'I will await him in a box,' he said.
'There's no room,' said the usher12.
Pinchas threw up his head. 'I am the author of "Hamlet"!'
The usher winced13 as at a blow. All his life he had heard vaguely14 of 'Hamlet'—as a great play that was acted on Broadway. And now here was the author himself! All the instinctive15 snobbery16 of the Ghetto17 toward the grand world was excited. And yet this seedy figure conflicted painfully with his ideas of the uptown type. But perhaps all dramatists were alike. Pinchas was bowed forward.
In another instant the theatre was in an uproar18. A man in a comfortable fauteuil had been asked to accommodate the distinguished19 stranger and had refused.
'I pay my dollar—what for shall I go?'
[270]'But it is the author of "Hamlet"!'
'My money is as good as his.'
'But he doesn't pay.'
'And I shall give my good seat to a Schnorrer!'
'Sh! sh!' from all parts of the house, like water livening, not killing20, a flame. From every side came expostulations in Yiddish and American. This was a free republic; the author of 'Hamlet' was no better than anybody else. Goldwater, on the stage, glared at the little poet.
At last a compromise was found. A chair was placed at the back of a packed box. American boxes are constructed for publicity21, not privacy, but the other dozen occupants bulked between him and the house. He could see, but he could not be seen. Sullen22 and mortified23 he listened contemptuously to the play.
It was, indeed, a strange farrago, this romantic drama with which the vast audience had replaced the Sabbath pieties24, the home-keeping ritual of the Ghetto, in their swift transformation25 to American life. Confined entirely26 to Jewish characters, it had borrowed much from the heroes and heroines of the Western world, remaining psychologically true only in its minor27 characters, which were conceived and rendered with wonderful realism by the gifted actors. And this naturalism was shot through with streaks28 of pure fantasy, so that kangaroos suddenly bounded on in a masque for the edification of a Russian tyrant29. But comedy and fantasy alike were subordinated to horror and tragedy: these refugees from the brutality30 of Russia and Rumania, these inheritors of the wailing31 melodies of a persecuted32 synagogue, craved33 morbidly34 for gruesomeness and gore35. The 'happy endings' of [271]Broadway would have spelled bankruptcy36 here. Players and audience made a large family party—the unfailing result of a stable stock company with the parts always cast in the same mould. And it was almost an impromptu37 performance. Pinchas, from his proximity38 to the stage, could hear every word from the prompter's box, which rose in the centre of the footlights. The Yiddish prompter did not wait till the players 'dried up'; it was his r?le to read the whole play ahead of them. 'Then you are the woman who murdered my mother,' he would gabble. And the actor, hearing, invented immediately the fit attitude and emphasis, spinning out with elocutionary slowness and passion the raw material supplied to him. No mechanical crossing and recrossing the stage, no punctilious39 tuition by your stage-manager—all was inspiration and fire. But to Pinchas this hearing of the play twice over—once raw and once cooked—was maddening.
'The lazy-bones!' he murmured. 'Not thus shall they treat my lines. Every syllable40 must be engraved41 upon their hearts, or I forbid the curtain to go up. Not that it matters with this fool-dramatist's words; they are ink-vomit, not literature.'
Another feature of the dialogue jarred upon his literary instinct. Incongruously blended with the Yiddish were elementary American expressions—the first the immigrants would pick up. 'All right,' 'Sure!' 'Yes, sir,' 'Say, how's the boss?' 'Good-bye.' 'Not a cent.' 'Take the elevated.' 'Yup.' 'Nup.' 'That's one on you!' 'Rubber-neck!' A continuous fusillade of such phrases stimulated42 and flattered the audience, pleased to find themselves on [272]such easy terms with the new language. But to Pinchas the idea of peppering his pure Yiddish with such locutions was odious43. The Prince of Palestine talking with a twang—how could he permit such an outrage44 upon his Hebrew Hamlet?
Hardly had the curtain fallen on the act than he darted45 through the iron door that led from the rear of the box to the stage, jostling the cursing carpenters, and pushed aside by the perspiring46 principals, on whom the curtain was rising and re-rising in a continuous roar. At last he found himself in the little bureau and dressing-room in which Goldwater was angrily changing his trousers. Kloot, the actor-manager's factotum47, a big-nosed insolent48 youth, sat on the table beside the telephone, a peaked cap on his head, his legs swinging.
'Son of a witch! You come and disturb all my house. What do you want?' cried Goldwater.
'I want to talk to you about rehearsals49.'
'I told you I would let you know when rehearsals began.'
'But you forgot to take my address.'
'As if I don't know where to find you!'
Kloot grinned. 'Pinchas gets drinks from all the café,' he put in.
'They drink to the health of "Hamlet,"' said Pinchas proudly.
'All right; Kloot's gotten your address. Good-evening.'
'But when will it be? I must know.'
'We can't fix it to a day. There's plenty of money in this piece yet.'
'Money—bah! But merit?'
[273]'You fellows are as jealous as the devil.'
'Me jealous of kangaroos! In Central Park you see giraffes—and tortoises too. Central Park has more talent than this scribbler of yours.'
'I doubt if there's a bigger peacock than here,' murmured Goldwater.
'I'll write you about rehearsals,' said Kloot, winking50 at Goldwater.
'But I must know weeks ahead—I may go lecturing. The great continent calls for me. In Chicago, in Cincinnati——'
'Go, by all means,' said Goldwater. 'We can do without you.'
'Do without me? A nice mess you will make of it! I must teach you how to say every line.'
'Teach me?' Goldwater could hardly believe his ears.
Pinchas wavered. 'I—I mean the company. I will show them the accent—the gesture. I'm a great stage-manager as well as a great poet. There shall be no more prompter.'
'Indeed!' Goldwater raised the eyebrow51 he was pencilling. 'And how are you going to get on without a prompter?'
'Very simple—a month's rehearsals.'
Goldwater turned an apoplectic52 hue53 deeper than his rouge54.
Kloot broke in impishly: 'It is very good of you to give us a month of your valuable time.'
But Goldwater was too irate55 for irony56. 'A month!' he gasped57 at last. 'I could put on six melodramas59 in a month.'
'But "Hamlet" is not a melodrama58!' said Pinchas, shocked.
[274]'Quite so; there is not half the scenery. It's the scenery that takes time rehearsing, not the scenes.'
The poet was now as purple as the player. 'You would profane60 my divine work by gabbling through it with your pack of parrots!'
'Here, just you come off your perch61!' said Kloot. 'You've written the piece; we do the rest.' Kloot, though only nineteen and at a few dollars a week, had a fine, careless equality not only with the whole world, but even with his employer. He was now, to his amaze, confronted by a superior.
'Silence, impudent-face! You are not talking to Radsikoff. I am a Poet, and I demand my rights.'
Kloot was silent from sheer surprise.
Goldwater was similarly impressed. 'What rights?' he observed more mildly. 'You've had your twenty dollars. And that was too much.'
'Too much! Twenty dollars for the masterpiece of the twentieth century!'
'In the twenty-first century you shall have twenty-one dollars,' said Kloot, recovering.
'Make mock as you please,' replied the poet superbly. 'I shall be living in the fifty-first century even. Poets never die—though, alas62! they have to live. Twenty dollars too much, indeed! It is not a dollar a century for the run of the play.'
'Very well,' said Goldwater grimly. 'Give them back. We return your play.'
This time it was the poet that was disconcerted. 'No, no, Goldwater—I must not disappoint my printer. I have promised him the twenty dollars to print my Hebrew "Selections from Nietzsche."'
[275]'You take your manuscript and give me my money,' said Goldwater implacably.
'Exchange would be a robbery. I will not rob you. Keep your bargain. See, here is the printer's letter.' He dragged from a tail-pocket a mass of motley manuscripts and yellow letters, and laid them beside the telephone as if to search among them.
Goldwater waved a repudiating63 hand.
'Be not a fool-man, Goldwater.' The poet's carneying forefinger64 was laid on his nose. 'I and you are the only two people in New York who serve the poetic65 drama—I by writing, you by producing.'
Goldwater still shook his head, albeit66 a whit67 appeased68 by the flattery.
Kloot replied for him: 'Your manuscript shall be returned to you by the first dustcart.'
Pinchas disregarded the youth. 'But I am willing you shall have only a fortnight's rehearsals. I believe in you, Goldwater. I have always said, "The only genius on the Yiddish stage is Goldwater." Klostermann—bah! He produces not so badly, but act? My grandmother's hen has a better stage presence. And there is Davidoff—a voice like a frog and a walk like a spider. And these charlatans69 I only heard of when I came to New York. But you, Goldwater—your fame has blown across the Atlantic, over the Carpathians. I journeyed from Cracow expressly to collaborate70 with you.'
'Then why do you spoil it all?' asked the mollified manager.
'It is my anxiety that Europe shall not be disappointed in you. Let us talk of the cast.'
'It is so early yet.'
[276]'"The early bird catches the worm."'
'But all our worms are caught,' grinned Kloot. 'We keep our talent pinned on the premises71.'
'I know, I know,' said Pinchas, paling. He saw Mrs. Goldwater tripping on saucily72 as Ophelia.
'But we don't give all our talent to one play,' the manager reminded him.
'No, of course not,' said Pinchas, with a breath of hope.
'We have to use all our people by turns. We divide our forces. With myself as Hamlet you will have a cast that should satisfy any author.'
'Do I not know it?' cried Pinchas. 'Were you but to say your lines, leaving all the others to be read by the prompter, the house would be spellbound, like Moses when he saw the burning bush.'
'That being so,' said Goldwater, 'you couldn't expect to have my wife in the same cast.'
'No, indeed,' said Pinchas enthusiastically. 'Two such tragic73 geniuses would confuse and distract, like the sun and the moon shining together.'
Goldwater coughed. 'But Ophelia is really a small part,' he murmured.
'It is,' Pinchas acquiesced74. 'Your wife's tragic powers could only be displayed in "Hamlet" if, like another equally celebrated75 actress, she appeared as the Prince of Palestine himself.'
'Heaven forbid my wife should so lower herself!' said Goldwater. 'A decent Jewish housewife cannot appear in breeches.'
'That is what makes it impossible,' assented76 Pinchas. 'And there is no other part worthy77 of Mrs. Goldwater.'
"You compare my wife to a Kangaroo!"
"You compare my wife to a Kangaroo!"ToList
[277]'It may be she would sacrifice herself,' said the manager musingly78.
'And who am I that I should ask her to sacrifice herself?' replied the poet modestly.
'Fanny won't sacrifice Ophelia,' Kloot observed drily to his chief.
'You hear?' said Goldwater, as quick as lightning. 'My wife will not sacrifice Ophelia by leaving her to a minor player. She thinks only of the play. It is very noble of her.'
'But she has worked so hard,' pleaded the poet desperately79, 'she needs a rest.'
'My wife never spares herself.'
Pinchas lost his head. 'But she might spare Ophelia,' he groaned80.
'What do you mean?' cried Goldwater gruffly. 'My wife will honour you by playing Ophelia. That is ended.' He waved the make-up brush in his hand.
'No, it is not ended,' said Pinchas desperately. 'Your wife is a comic actress——'
'You just admitted she was tragic——'
'It is heartbreaking to see her in tragedy,' said Pinchas, burning his boats. 'She skips and jumps. Rather would I give Ophelia to one of your kangaroos!'
'You low-down monkey!' Goldwater almost flung his brush into the poet's face. 'You compare my wife to a kangaroo! Take your filthy81 manuscript and begone where the pepper grows.'
'Well, Fanny would be rather funny as Ophelia,' put in Kloot pacifyingly.
'And to make your wife ridiculous as Ophelia,' [278]added Pinchas eagerly, 'you would rob the world of your Hamlet!'
'I can get plenty of Hamlets. Any scribbler can translate Shakespeare.'
'Perhaps, but who can surpass Shakespeare? Who can make him intelligible82 to the modern soul?'
'Mr. Goldwater,' cried the call-boy, with the patness of a reply.
The irate manager bustled83 out, not sorry to escape with his dignity and so cheap a masterpiece. Kloot was left, with swinging legs, dominating the situation. In idle curiosity and with the simplicity84 of perfectly85 bad manners, he took up the poet's papers and letters and perused86 them. As there were scraps87 of verse amid the mass, Pinchas let him read on unrebuked.
'You will talk to him, Kloot,' he pleaded at last. 'You will save Ophelia?'
The big-nosed youth looked up from his impertinent inquisition. 'Rely on me, if I have to play her myself.'
'But that will be still worse,' said Pinchas seriously.
Kloot grinned. 'How do you know? You've never seen me act?'
The poet laid his finger beseechingly88 on his nose. 'You will not spoil my play, you will get me a maidenly89 Ophelia? I and you are the only two men in New York who understand how to cast a play.'
'You leave it to me,' said Kloot; 'I have a wife of my own.'
'What!' shrieked90 Pinchas.
'Don't be alarmed—I'll coach her. She's just the age for the part. Mrs. Goldwater might be her mother.'
[279]'But can she make the audience cry?'
'You bet; a regular onion of an Ophelia.'
'But I must see her rehearse, then I can decide.'
'Of course.'
'And you will seek me in the café when rehearsals begin?'
'That goes without saying.'
The poet looked cunning. 'But don't you say without going.'
'How can we rehearse without you? You shouldn't have worried the boss. We'll call you, even if it's the middle of the night.'
The poet jumped at Kloot's hand and kissed it.
'Protector of poets!' he cried ecstatically. 'And you will see that they do not mutilate my play; you will not suffer a single hair of my poesy to be harmed?'
'Not a hair shall be cut,' said Kloot solemnly.
Pinchas kissed his hand again. 'Ah, I and you are the only two men in New York who understand how to treat poesy.'
'Sure!' Kloot snatched his hand away. 'Good-bye.'
Pinchas lingered, gathering91 up his papers. 'And you will see it is not adulterated with American. In Zion they do not say "Sure" or "Lend me a nickel."'
'I guess not,' said Kloot. 'Good-bye.'
'All the same, you might lend me a nickel for car-fare.'
Kloot thought his departure cheap at five cents. He handed it over.
The poet went. An instant afterwards the door reopened and his head reappeared, the nose adorned92 with a pleading forefinger.
[280]'You promise me all this?'
'Haven't I promised?'
'But swear to me.'
'Will you go—if I swear?'
'Yup,' said Pinchas, airing his American.
'And you won't come back till rehearsals begin?'
'Nup.'
'Then I swear—on my father's and mother's life!'
Pinchas departed gleefully, not knowing that Kloot was an orphan93.
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1
voluptuously
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| adv.风骚地，体态丰满地 | |
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2
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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pedestrians
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| n.步行者( pedestrian的名词复数 ) | |
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5
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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6
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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7
flamboyant
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| adj.火焰般的，华丽的，炫耀的 | |
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8
janitors
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| n.看门人( janitor的名词复数 )；看管房屋的人；锅炉工 | |
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haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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10
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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11
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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12
usher
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| n.带位员，招待员；vt.引导，护送；vi.做招待，担任引座员 | |
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13
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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15
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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16
snobbery
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| n. 充绅士气派, 俗不可耐的性格 | |
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ghetto
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| n.少数民族聚居区，贫民区 | |
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18
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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19
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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23
mortified
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| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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pieties
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| 虔诚，虔敬( piety的名词复数 ) | |
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transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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28
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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31
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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32
persecuted
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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morbidly
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| adv.病态地 | |
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gore
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| n.凝血，血污；v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破；缝以补裆；顶 | |
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bankruptcy
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| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
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impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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punctilious
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| adj.谨慎的，谨小慎微的 | |
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40
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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41
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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44
outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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45
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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46
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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47
factotum
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| n.杂役；听差 | |
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48
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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49
rehearsals
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| n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 )；排练；复述；重复 | |
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50
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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51
eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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52
apoplectic
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| adj.中风的；愤怒的；n.中风患者 | |
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53
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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54
rouge
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| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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55
irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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56
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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57
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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58
melodrama
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| n.音乐剧；情节剧 | |
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59
melodramas
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| 情节剧( melodrama的名词复数 ) | |
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60
profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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61
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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62
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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63
repudiating
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| v.（正式地）否认( repudiate的现在分词 )；拒绝接受；拒绝与…往来；拒不履行（法律义务） | |
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64
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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65
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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66
albeit
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| conj.即使；纵使；虽然 | |
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67
whit
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| n.一点，丝毫 | |
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68
appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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69
charlatans
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| n.冒充内行者，骗子( charlatan的名词复数 ) | |
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70
collaborate
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| vi.协作，合作；协调 | |
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71
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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72
saucily
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| adv.傲慢地，莽撞地 | |
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73
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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74
acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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76
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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78
musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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79
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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80
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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81
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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82
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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83
bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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84
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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85
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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86
perused
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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87
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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88
beseechingly
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| adv. 恳求地 | |
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89
maidenly
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| adj. 像处女的, 谨慎的, 稳静的 | |
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90
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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92
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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93
orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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