The Yiddish 'Hamlet' was to be the Passover production at Goldwater's Theatre. The author was the world-renowned poet Melchitsedek Pinchas, and the music was by Ignatz Levitsky, the world-famous composer.
[281]'World-famous composer, indeed!' cried Pinchas to his garret walls. 'Who ever heard of Ignatz Levitsky? And who wants his music? The tragedy of a thinker needs no caterwauling of violins. Does Goldwater imagine I have written a melodrama8? At most will I permit an overture—or the cymbals9 shall clash as I take my call.'
He leaped out of bed. Even greater than his irritation10 at this intrusion of Levitsky was his joyful11 indignation at the imminence12 of his play. The dogs! The liars14! The first night was almost at hand, and no sign had been vouchsafed15 to him. He had been true to his promise; he had kept away from the theatre. But Goldwater! But Kloot! Ah, the godless gambler with his parents' lives! With such ghouls hovering17 around the Hebrew 'Hamlet,' who could say how the masterpiece had been mangled18? Line upon line had probably been cut; nay19, who knew that a whole scene had not been shorn away, perhaps to give more time for that miserable20 music!
He flung himself into his clothes and, taking his cane21, hurried off to the theatre, breathless and breakfastless. Orchestral music vibrated through the lobby and almost killed his pleasure in the placards of the Yiddish 'Hamlet.' He gave but a moment to absorbing the great capital letters of his name; a dash at a swinging-door, and he faced a glowing, crowded stage at the end of a gloomy hall. Goldwater, limelit, occupied the centre of the boards. Hamlet trod the battlements of the tower of David, and gazed on the cupolas and minarets22 of Jerusalem.
With a raucous23 cry, half anger, half ecstasy24, Pinchas galloped25 toward the fiddling26 and banging orchestra. [282]A harmless sweeper in his path was herself swept aside. But her fallen broom tripped up the runner. He fell with an echoing clamour, to which his clattering27 cane contributed, and clouds of dust arose and gathered where erst had stood a poet.
Goldwater stopped dead. 'Can't you sweep quietly?' he thundered terribly through the music.
Ignatz Levitsky tapped his baton28, and the orchestra paused.
'It is I, the author!' said Pinchas, struggling up through clouds like some pagan deity29.
Hamlet's face grew as inky as his cloak. 'And what do you want?'
'What do I want?' repeated Pinchas, in sheer amaze.
Kloot, in his peaked cap, emerged from the wings munching30 a sandwich.
'Sure, there's Shakespeare!' he said. 'I've just been round to the café to find you. Got this sandwich there.'
'But this—this isn't the first rehearsal,' stammered31 Pinchas, a jot32 appeased33.
'The first dress-rehearsal,' Kloot replied reassuringly34. 'We don't trouble authors with the rough work. They stroll in and put on the polish. Won't you come on the stage?'
Unable to repress a grin of happiness, Pinchas stumbled through the dim parterre, barking his shins at almost every step. Arrived at the orchestra, he found himself confronted by a chasm35. He wheeled to the left, to where the stage-box, shrouded36 in brown holland, loomed37 ghostly.
'No,' said Kloot, 'that door's got stuck. You must come round by the stage-door.'
[283]Pinchas retraced38 his footsteps, barking the smooth remainder of his shins. He allowed himself a palpitating pause before the lobby posters. His blood chilled. Not only was Ignatz Levitsky starred in equal type, but another name stood out larger than either:
Ophelia .. .. .. Fanny Goldwater.
His wrath39 reflaming, he hurried round to the stage-door. He pushed it open, but a gruff voice inquired his business, and a burly figure blocked his way.
'I am the author,' he said with quiet dignity.
'Authors ain't admitted,' was the simple reply.
'But Goldwater awaits me,' the poet protested.
'I guess not. Mr. Kloot's orders. Can't have authors monkeying around here.' As he spoke40 Goldwater's voice rose from the neighbouring stage in an operatic melody, and reduced Pinchas's brain to chaos41. A despairing sense of strange plots and treasons swept over him. He ran back to the lobby. The doors had been bolted. He beat against them with his cane and his fists and his toes till a tall policeman persuaded him that home was better than a martyr's cell.
Life remained an unintelligible42 nightmare for poor Pinchas till the first night—and the third act—of the Yiddish 'Hamlet.' He had reconciled himself to his extrusion43 from rehearsals44. 'They fear I fire Ophelia,' he told the café.
But a final blow awaited him. No ticket reached him for the première; the boxes he had promised the café did not materialize, and the necessity of avoiding that haunt of the invited cost him several meals. But that he himself should be refused when he tried to pass [284]in 'on his face'—that authors should be admitted neither at the stage door nor at the public door—this had not occurred to him as within the possibilities of even theatrical45 humanity.
'Pigs! Pigs! Pigs!' he shrieked46 into the box office. 'You and Goldwater and Kloot! Pigs! Pigs! Pigs! I have indeed cast my pearls before swine. But I will not be beholden to them—I will buy a ticket.'
'We're sold out,' said the box-office man, adding recklessly: 'Get a move on you; other people want to buy seats.'
'You can't keep me out! It's conspiracy47!' He darted48 within, but was hustled49 as rapidly without. He ran back to the stage-door, and hurled50 himself against the burly figure. He rebounded51 from it into the side-walk, and the stage-door closed upon his humiliation52. He was left cursing in choice Hebrew. It was like the maledictions in Deuteronomy, only brought up to date by dynamite53 explosions and automobile54 accidents. Wearying of the waste of an extensive vocabulary upon a blank door, Pinchas returned to the front. The lobby was deserted55 save for a few strangers; his play had begun. And he—he, the god who moved all this machinery—he, whose divine fire was warming all that great house, must pace out here in the cold and dark, not even permitted to loiter in the corridors! But for the rumblings of applause that reached him he could hardly have endured the situation.
Suddenly an idea struck him. He hied to the nearest drug-store, and entering the telephone cabinet rang up Goldwater.
'Hello, there!' came the voice of Kloot. 'Who are you?'
[285]Pinchas had a vivid vision of the big-nosed youth, in his peaked cap, sitting on the table by the telephone, swinging his legs; but he replied craftily56, in a disguised voice: 'You, Goldwater?'
'No; Goldwater's on the stage.'
Pinchas groaned57. But at that very instant Goldwater's voice returned to the bureau, ejaculating complacently58: 'They're loving it, Kloot; they're swallowing it like ice-cream soda59.'
Pinchas tingled60 with pleasure, but all Kloot replied was: 'You're wanted on the 'phone.'
'Hello!' called Goldwater.
'Hello!' replied Pinchas in his natural voice. 'May a sudden death smite61 you! May the curtain fall on a gibbering epileptic!'
'Can't hear!' said Goldwater. 'Speak plainer.'
'I will speak plainer, swine-head! Never shall a work of mine defile62 itself in your dirty dollar-factory. I spit on you!' He spat63 viciously into the telephone disk. 'Your father was a Meshummad (apostate), and your mother——'
But Goldwater had cut off the connection. Pinchas finished for his own satisfaction: 'An Irish fire-woman.'
'That was worth ten cents,' he muttered, as he strode out into the night. And patrolling the front of the theatre again, or leaning on his cane as on a sword, he was warmed by the thought that his venom64 had pierced through all the actor-manager's defences.
At last a change came over the nightmare. Striding from the envied, illuminated65 Within appeared the Heathen Journalist, note-book in hand. At sight of the author he shied. 'Must skedaddle, Pin-cuss,' he [286]said apologetically, 'if we're to get anything into to-morrow's paper. Your people are so durned slow—nearly eleven, and only two acts over. You'll have to brisk 'em up a bit. Good-bye.'
He shook the poet's hand and was off. With an inspiration Pinchas gave chase. He caught the Journalist just boarding a car.
'Got your theatre ticket?' he panted.
'What for?'
'Give it me.'
The Journalist fumbled66 in his waistcoat pocket, and threw him a crumpled67 fragment. 'What in thunder——' he began. And then, to Pinchas's relief, the car removed the querist.
For the moment the poet was feeling only the indignity68 of the position, and the Heathen Journalist as trumpeter of his wrongs and avenger69 of the Muses70 had not occurred to him. He smoothed out the magic scrap71, and was inside the suffocating72, close-packed theatre before the disconcerted janitor73 could meet the new situation. Pinchas found the vacated journalistic chair in the stage-box; he was installed therein before the managerial minions74 arrived on ejection bent75.
'This is my house!' screamed Pinchas. 'I stay here! Let me be—swine, serpents, Behemoth!'
'Sh!' came in a shower from every quarter. 'Sit down there! Turn him out!' The curtain was going up; Pinchas was saved.
But only for more gruesome torture. The third act began. Hamlet collogued with the Queen. The poet pricked76 up his ears. Whose language was this? Certainly not Shakespeare's or his superior's. Angels and ministers of grace defend him! this was only the [287]illiterate jargon77 of the hack78 playwright79, with its peppering of the phrases of Hester Street. 'You have too many dead flies on you,' Hamlet's mother told him. 'You'll get left.' But the nightmare thickened. Hamlet and his mother opened their mouths and sang. Their songs were light and gay, and held encore verses to reward the enthusiastic. The actors, like the audience, were leisurely80; here midnight and the closure were not synonymous. When there were no more encore verses, Ignatz Levitsky would turn to the audience and bow in acknowledgment of the compliment. Pinchas's eyes were orbs81 straining at their sockets82; froth gathered on his lips.
Mrs. Goldwater bounded on, fantastically mad, her songs set to comic airs. The great house received her in the same comic spirit. Instead of rue16 and rosemary she carried a rustling83 green Lulov—the palm-branch of the Feast of Tabernacles—and shook it piously84 toward every corner of the compass. At each shake the audience rolled about in spasms85 of merriment. A moment later a white gliding86 figure, moving to the measure of the cake-walk, keyed up the laughter to hysteria. It was the Ghost appearing to frighten Ophelia. His sepulchral87 bass88 notes mingled89 with her terror-stricken soprano.
This was the last straw. The Ghost—the Ghost that he had laid forever, the Ghost that made melodrama of this tragedy of the thinker—was risen again, and cake-walking!
Unperceived in the general convulsion and cachinnation, Pinchas leaped to his feet, and, seeing scarlet90, bounded through the iron door and made for the stage. But a hand was extended in the nick of [288]time—the hand he had kissed—and Pinchas was drawn91 back by the collar.
'You don't take your call yet,' said the unruffled Kloot.
'Let me go! I must speak to the people. They must learn the truth. They think me, Melchitsedek Pinchas, guilty of this tohu-bohu! My sun will set. I shall be laughed at from the Hudson to the Jordan.'
'Hush92! Hush! You are interrupting the poesy.'
'Who has drawn and quartered my play? Speak!'
'I've only arranged it for the stage,' said Kloot, unabashed.
'You!' gasped93 the poet.
'You said I and you are the only two men who understand how to treat poesy.'
'You understand push-carts, not poesy!' hissed94 the poet. 'You conspire95 to keep me out of the theatre—I will summons you!'
'We had to keep all authors out. Suppose Shakespeare had turned up and complained of you.'
'Shakespeare would have been only too grateful.'
'Hush! The boss is going on.'
From the opposite wing Hamlet was indeed advancing. Pinchas made a wild plunge96 forward, but Kloot's grasp on his collar was still carefully firm.
'Who's mutilating the poesy now?' Kloot frowned angrily from under his peaked cap. 'You'll spoil the scene.'
'Peace, liar13! You promised me your wife for Ophelia!'
Kloot's frown relaxed into a smile. 'Sure! The first wife I get you shall have.'
Pinchas gnashed his teeth. Goldwater's voice rose in a joyous97 roulade.
[289]'I think you owe me a car-fare,' said Kloot soothingly98.
Pinchas waved the rejoinder aside with his cane. 'Why does Hamlet sing?' he demanded fiercely.
'Because it's Passover,' said Kloot. 'You are a "greener" in New York, otherwise you would know that it is a tradition to have musical plays on Passover. Our audiences wouldn't stand for any other. You're such an unreasonable99 cuss! Why else did we take your "Hamlet" for a Passover play?'
'But "Hamlet" isn't a musical play.'
'Yes, it is! How about Ophelia's songs? That was what decided100 us. Of course they needed eking101 out.'
'But "Hamlet" is a tragedy!' gasped Pinchas.
'Sure!' said Kloot cheerfully. 'They all die at the end. Our audiences would go away miserable if they didn't. You wait till they're dead, then you shall take your call.'
'Take my call, for your play!'
'There's quite a lot of your lines left, if you listen carefully. Only you don't understand stage technique. Oh, I'm not grumbling102; we're quite satisfied. The idea of adapting "Hamlet" for the Yiddish stage is yours, and it's worth every cent we paid.'
A storm of applause gave point to the speaker's words, and removed the last partition between the poet's great mind and momentary103 madness. What! here was that ape of a Goldwater positively104 wallowing in admiration105, while he, the mighty106 poet, had been cast into outer darkness and his work mocked and crucified! He put forth107 all his might, like Samson amid the Philistines108, and leaving his coat-collar in Kloot's hand, he plunged109 into the circle of light. Goldwater's amazed face turned to meet him.
[290]'Cutter of lines!' The poet's cane slashed110 across Hamlet's right cheek near the right eye. 'Perverter111 of poesy!' It slashed across the left cheek near the left eye.
The Prince of Palestine received each swish with a yell of pain and fear, and the ever-ready Kloot dropped the curtain on the tragic112 scene.
Such hubbub113 and hullabaloo as rose on both sides of the curtain! Yet in the end the poet escaped scot-free. Goldwater was a coward, Kloot a sage114. The same prudence115 that had led Kloot to exclude authors, saved him from magnifying their importance by police squabbles. Besides, a clever lawyer might prove the exclusion116 illegal. What was done was done. The dignity of the hero of a hundred dramas was best served by private beefsteaks and a rumoured117 version, irrefutable save in a court of law. It was bad enough that the Heathen Journalist should supply so graphic118 a picture of the midnight melodrama, coloured even more highly than Goldwater's eyes. Kloot had been glad that the Journalist had left before the episode; but when he saw the account he wished the scribe had stayed.
'He won't play Hamlet with that pair of shiners,' Pinchas prophesied119 early the next morning to the supping café.
Radsikoff beamed and refilled Pinchas's glass with champagne120. He had carried out his promise of assisting at the première, and was now paying for the poet's supper.
'You're the first playwright Goldwater hasn't managed to dodge,' he chuckled121.
'Ah!' said the poet meditatively122. 'Action is greater than Thought. Action is the greatest thing in the world.'
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收听单词发音
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1
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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grimaces
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| n.（表蔑视、厌恶等）面部扭曲，鬼脸( grimace的名词复数 )v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的第三人称单数 ) | |
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sniffs
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的第三人称单数 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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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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testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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melodrama
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| n.音乐剧；情节剧 | |
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cymbals
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| pl.铙钹 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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imminence
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| n.急迫，危急 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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liars
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| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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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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minarets
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| n.（清真寺旁由报告祈祷时刻的人使用的）光塔( minaret的名词复数 ) | |
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raucous
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| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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baton
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| n.乐队用指挥杖 | |
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deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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munching
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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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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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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retraced
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| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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extrusion
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| n.挤出；推出；喷出；赶出 | |
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rehearsals
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| n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 )；排练；复述；重复 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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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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hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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51
rebounded
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| 弹回( rebound的过去式和过去分词 )； 反弹； 产生反作用； 未能奏效 | |
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52
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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53
dynamite
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| n./vt.(用)炸药(爆破) | |
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54
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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56
craftily
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| 狡猾地，狡诈地 | |
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57
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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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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59
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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60
tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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smite
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| v.重击；彻底击败；n.打；尝试；一点儿 | |
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defile
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| v.弄污，弄脏；n.(山间)小道 | |
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spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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venom
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| n.毒液，恶毒，痛恨 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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indignity
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| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
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avenger
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| n. 复仇者 | |
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muses
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的第三人称单数 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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janitor
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| n.看门人，管门人 | |
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minions
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| n.奴颜婢膝的仆从( minion的名词复数 )；走狗；宠儿；受人崇拜者 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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jargon
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| n.术语，行话 | |
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78
hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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playwright
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| n.剧作家，编写剧本的人 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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81
orbs
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| abbr.off-reservation boarding school 在校寄宿学校n.球，天体，圆形物( orb的名词复数 ) | |
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sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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piously
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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spasms
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| n.痉挛( spasm的名词复数 )；抽搐；（能量、行为等的）突发；发作 | |
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gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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sepulchral
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| adj.坟墓的，阴深的 | |
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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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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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hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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conspire
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| v.密谋，（事件等）巧合，共同导致 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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101
eking
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| v.（靠节省用量）使…的供应持久( eke的现在分词 )；节约使用；竭力维持生计；勉强度日 | |
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102
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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103
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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104
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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105
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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106
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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107
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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108
philistines
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| n.市侩，庸人( philistine的名词复数 )；庸夫俗子 | |
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109
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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slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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111
perverter
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| 不正当的 | |
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112
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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113
hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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114
sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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115
prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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116
exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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117
rumoured
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| adj.谣传的；传说的；风 | |
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118
graphic
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| adj.生动的，形象的，绘画的，文字的，图表的 | |
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119
prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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120
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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121
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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