the ways of men-第33部分

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ncavel〃　held　this　city　against　the　world。

Sleep　that　night　was　filled　with　a　strange　phantasmagoria　of　　crenelated　chateaux　and　armored　knights；　until　the　bright　　Provencal　sunlight　and　the　call　for　a　hurried　departure　　dispelled　such　illusions。　　By　noon　we　were　far　away　from　　Carcassonne；　mounting　the　rocky　slopes　of　the　Cevennes　amid　a　　wild　and　noble　landscape；　the　towering　cliffs　of　the　　〃Causses；〃　zebraed　by　zig…zag　paths；　lay　below　us；　disclosing　　glimpses　of　fertile　valley　and　vine…engarlanded　plain。

One　asks　one's　self　in　wonder　why　these　enchanting　regions　are　　so　unknown。　　EN　ROUTE　our　companions　were　like　children　fresh　　from　school；　taking　haphazard　meals　at　the　local　inns　and　　clambering　gayly　into　any　conveyance　that　came　to　hand。　　As　　our　way　led　us　through　the　Cevennes　country；　another　charm　　gradually　stole　over　the　senses。

〃I　imagine　that　Citheron　must　look　like　this；〃　murmured　　Catulle　Mendes；　as　we　stood　looking　down　from　a　sun…baked　　eminence；　〃with　the　Gulf　of　Corinth　there　where　you　see　that　　gleam　of　water。〃　　As　he　spoke　he　began　declaiming　the　passage　　from　Sophocles's　OEDIPUS　THE　KING　descriptive　if　that　classic　　scene。

Two　thousand　feet　below　lay　Ispanhac　in　a　verdant　valley；　the　　River　Tarn　gleaming　amid　the　cultivated　fields　like　a　cimeter　　thrown　on　a　Turkish　carpet。　　Our　descent　was　an　avalanche　of　　laughing；　singing　〃Cadets；〃　who　rolled　in　the　fresh…cut　grass　　and　chased　each　other　through　the　ripening　vineyards；　shouting　　lines　from　tragedies　to　groups　of　open…mouthed　farm…hands；　and　　invading　the　tiny　inns　on　the　road　with　song　and　tumult。　　As　　we　neared　our　goal　its　entire　population；　headed　by　the　cure；　　came　out　to　meet　us　and　offer　the　hospitality　of　the　town。

In　the　market…place；　one　of　our　number；　inspired　by　the　　antique　solemnity　of　the　surroundings；　burst　into　the　noble　　lines　of　Hugo's　DEVANT　DIEU；　before　which　the　awestruck　　population　uncovered　and　crossed　themselves；　imagining；　　doubtless；　that　it　was　a　religious　ceremony。

Another　scene　recurs　vividly　to　my　memory。　　We　were　at　St。　　Enimie。　　I　had　opened　my　window　to　breathe　the　night　air　after　　the　heat　and　dust　of　the　day　and　watch　the　moonlight　on　the　　quaint　bridge　at　my　feet。　　Suddenly　from　out　the　shadows　there　　rose　（like　sounds　in　a　dream）　the　exquisite　tone　of　Sylvain's　　voice；　alternating　with　the　baritone　of　d'Esparbes。　　They　were　　seated　at　the　water's　edge；　intoxicated　by　the　beauty　of　the　　scene　and　apparently　oblivious　of　all　else。

The　next　day　was　passed　on　the　Tarn；　our　ten　little　boats　　following　each　other　single　file　on　the　narrow　river；　winding　　around　the　feet　of　mighty　cliffs；　or　wandering　out　into　sunny　　pasture　lands　where　solitary　peasants；　interrupted　in　their　　labors；　listened　in　astonishment　to　the　chorus　thundered　from　　the　passing　boats；　and　waved　us　a　welcome　as　we　moved　by。

Space　is　lacking　to　give　more　than　a　suggestion　of　those　days；　　passed　in　every　known　conveyance　from　the　antique　diligence　to　　the　hissing　trolley；　in　company　with　men　who　seemed　to　have　　left　their　cares　and　their　years　behind　them　in　Paris。

Our　last　stop　before　arriving　at　Beziers　was　at　La　Case；　where　　luncheon　was　served　in　the　great　hall　of　the　chateau。　　Armand　　Sylvestre　presided　at　the　repast；　his　verses　alternated　with　　the　singings　of　Emma　Calve；　who　had　come　from　her　neighboring　　chateau　to　greet　her　old　friends　and　compatriots；　the　　〃Cadets。〃

As　the　meal　terminated；　more　than　one　among　the　guests；　I　　imagine；　felt　his　heart　heavy　with　the　idea　that　to…morrow　　would　end　this　pleasant　ramble　and　send　him　back　to　the　　realities　of　life　and　the　drudgery　of　daily　bread…winning。

The　morning　of　the　great　day　dawned　cloudless　and　cool。　　A　　laughing；　many…colored　throng　early　invaded　the　arena；　the　　women's　gay　toilets　lending　it　some　resemblance　to　a　parterre　　of　fantastic　flowers。　　Before　the　bell　sounded　its　three　　strokes　that　announced　the　representation；　over　ten　thousand　　spectators　had　taken　their　places　and　were　studying　the　　gigantic　stage　and　its　four　thousand　yards　of　painted　canvas。　　　In　the　foreground　a　cluster　of　Greek　palaces　and　temples　　surround　a　market…place；　higher　up　and　further　back　the　city　　walls；　manned　by　costumed　sentinels；　rise　against　mountains　so　　happily　painted　that　their　outlines　blend　with　nature's　own　　handiwork　in　the　distance；　…　a　worthy　setting　for　a　stately　　drama　and　the　valiant　company　of　actors　who　have　travelled　　from　the　capital　for　this　solemnity。

Three　hundred　hidden　musicians；　divided　into　wind　and　chord　　orchestras；　accompany　a　chorus　of　two　hundred　executants；　and　　furnish　the　music　for　a　ballet　of　seventy　dancers。

As　the　third　stroke　dies　away；　the　Muse；　Mademoiselle　　Rabuteau；　enters　and　declaims　the　salutation　addressed　by　　Louis　Gallet　to　the　City　of　Beziers。　　At　its　conclusion　the　　tragedy　begins。

This　is　not　the　place　to　describe　or　criticise　at　length　so　　new　an　attempt　at　classic　restoration。　　The　author　follows　the　　admirable　fable　of　antiquity　with　a　directness　and　simplicity　　worthy　of　his　Greek　model。　　The　story　of　Dejanira　and　Hercules　　is　too　familiar　to　be　repeated　here。　　The　hero's　infidelity　　and　the　passion　of　a　neglected　woman　are　related　through　five　　acts　logically　and　forcibly；　with　the　noble　music　of　Saint…　Saens　as　a　background。

We　watch　the　growing　affection　of　the　demi…god　for　the　gentle　　Iole。　　We　sympathize　with　jealous；　desperate　Dejanira　when　in　　a　last　attempt　to　gain　back　the　love　of　Hercules　she　persuades　　the　unsuspecting　Iole　to　offer　him　a　tunic　steeped　in　Nessus's　　blood；　which　Dejanira　has　been　told　by　Centaur　will　when　　warmed　in　the　sun　restore　the　wearer　to　her　arms。

At　the　opening　of　the　fifth　act　we　witness　the　nuptial　fetes。　　　Religious　dances　and　processions　circle　around　the　pyre　laid　　for　a　marriage　sacrifice。　　Dejanira；　hidden　in　the　throng；　　watches　in　an　agony　of　hope　for　the　miracle　to　be　worked。

Hercules　accepts　the　fatal　garment　from　the　hands　of　his　bride　　and　calls　upon　the　sun…god　to　ignite　the　altars。　　The　pyre　　flames；　the　heat　warms　the　clinging　tunic；　which　wraps　　Hercules　in　its　folds　of　torture。　　Writhing　in　agony；　he　　flings　himself　upon　the　burning　pyramid；　followed　by　Dejanira；　　who；　in　despair；　sees　too　late　that　she　has　been　but　a　tool　in　　the　hands　of　Nessus。

No　feeble　prose；　no　characters　of　black　or　white；　can　do　　justice　to　the　closing　scenes　of　this　performance。　　The　roar　　of　the　chorus；　the　thunder　of　the　actors'　voices；　the　　impression　of　reality　left　on　the　breathless　spectators　by　the　　open…air　reality　of　the　scene；　the　ardent　sun；　the　rustling　　wind；　the　play　of　light　and　shade　across　the　stage；　the　　invocation　of　Hercules　addressed　to　the　real　heavens；　not　to　a　　painted　firmament；　combined　an　effect　that　few　among　that　vast　　concourse　will　forget。

At　the　farewell　banquet　in　the　arena　after　the　performance；　　Georges　Leygues；　the　captain　of　the　Cadets；　in　answer　to　a　　speech　from　the　Prefect；　replied：　〃You　ask　about　our　aims　and　　purposes　and　speak　in　admiration　of　the　enthusiasm　aroused　by　　the　passage　of　our　band！

〃Our　aims　are　to　vivify　the　traditions　and　language　of　our　　native　land；　and　the　memory　of　a　glorious　ancestry；　to　foster　　the　love　of　our　little　province　at　the　same　time　as　patriotism　　for　the　greater　country。　　We　are　striving　for　a　　decentralization　of　art；　for　the　elevation　of　the　stage；　but　　above　all；　we　preach　a　gospel　of　gayety　and　healthy　laughter；　　the　science　of　remaining　young　at　heart；　would　teach　pluck　and　　good　humor　in　the　weary　struggle　of　existence；　characteristics　　that　have　marked　our　countrymen　through　history！　　We　have　　borrowed　a　motto　from　Lope　de　Vega　（that　Gascon　of　another　　race）；　and　inscribe　‘PAR　LA　LANGUA　ET　PAR　L'EPEE'　upon　our　　banner；　that　these　purposes　may　be　read　by　the　world　as　it　　runs。〃




Chapter　30　…　The　Dinner　and　the　Drama


CLAUDE　FROLLO；　holding　the　first　printed　book　he　had　seen　in　　one　hand；　and　pointing　with　the　other　to　the　gigantic　mass　of　　Notre　Dame；　dark　against　the　sunset；　prophesied　〃CECI　TUERA　　CELA。〃　　One　might　to…day　paraphrase　the　sentence　which　Victor　　Hugo　put　into　his　archdeacon's　mouth；　and　pointing　to　the　　elaborately　appointed　dinner…tables　of　our　generation；　assert　　that　the　Dinner　was　killing　the　Drama。

New　York　undoubtedly　possesses　at　this　moment　more　and　better　　constructed　theatres；　in　proportion　to　its　population；　than　　any　other　city　on　the　globe；　and；　with　the　single　exception　of　　Paris；　more　money　is　probably　spent　at　the　theatre　by　our　　people　than　in　any　other　metropolis。　　Yet　curiously　enough；　　each　decade；　each　season　widens　the　breach　between　our　　discriminating　public　and　the　stage。　　The　theatre；　instead　of　　keeping　abreast　with　the　intellectual　movement　of　our　country；　　has　for　the　last　thirty　years　been　slowly　but　steadily　　declining；　until　at　this　moment　there　is　hardly　a　company　　playing　in　legitimate　comedy；　tragedy；　or　the　classic　　masterpieces　of　our　language。

In　spite　of　the　fact　that　we　are　a　nation　in　full　literary　　production；　boasting　authors　who　rank　with　the　greatest　of　　other　countries；　there　is　hardly　one　poet　or　prose…writer　to…　day；　of　recognized　ability；　who　works　for　the　stage；　nor　can　　we　count　more　than　one　or　two　high…class　comedies　or　lyric　　dramas　of　American　origin。

It　is　not　my　intention　here　to　criticise　the　contemporary　　stage；　although　the　condition　of　the　drama　in　America　is　so　　unique　and　so　different　from　its　situation　in　other　countries　　that　it　might　well　attract　the　attention　of　inquiring　minds；　　but　rather　to　glance　at　the　social　causes　which　have　produced　　this　curious　state　of　affairs；　and　the　strained　relations　　existing　between　our　elite　（here　the　word　is　used　in　its　　widest　and　most　elevated　sense）　and　our　stage。

There　can　be　little　doubt　that　the　deterioration　in　the　class　　of　plays　produced　at　our　theatres　has　been　brought　about　by　　changes　in　our　social　conditions。　　The　pernicious　〃star〃　　system；　the　difficulty　of　keeping　stock　companies　together；　　the　rarity　of　histrionic　ability　among　Americans　are　　explanations　which　have　at　different　times　been　offered　to　　account　for　these　phenomena。　　Foremost；　however；　among　the　　causes　should　be　placed　an　exceedingly　simple　and　prosaic　fact　　which　seems　to　have　es