short stories and essays-第7章

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women's　roles　in　his　time　were　always　taken　by　pretty　and　clever　boys；
could　be　more　naturally　managed　then　than　now。　　But　when　it　came　to　the
eclaircissement；　and　the　pretty　boys；　who　had　been　playing　the　parts　of
women　disguised　as　men；　had　to　own　themselves　women；　the　effect　must　have
been　confused　if　not　weakened。　　If　Mme。　Bernhardt；　in　the　necessity　of
doing　something　Shakespearean；　had　chosen　to　do　Rosalind；　or　Viola；　or
Portia；　she　could　have　done　it　with　all　the　modern　advantages　of　women　in
men's　roles。　　These　characters　are；　of　course；　〃lighter　motions　bounded
in　a　shallower　brain〃　than　the　creation　she　aimed　at；　but　she　could　at
least　have　made　much　of　them；　and　she　does　not　make　much　of　Hamlet。




III。

The　strongest　reason　against　any　woman　Hamlet　is　that　it　does　violence　to
an　ideal。　　Literature　is　not　so　rich　in　great　imaginary　masculine　types
that　we　can　afford　to　have　them　transformed　to　women；　and　after　seeing
Mme。　Bernhardt's　Hamlet　no　one　can　altogether　liberate　himself　from　the
fancy　that　the　Prince　of　Denmark　was　a　girl　of　uncertain　age；　with　crises
of　mannishness　in　which　she　did　not　seem　quite　a　lady。　　Hamlet　is　in
nothing　more　a　man　than　in　the　things　to　which　as　a　man　he　found　himself
unequal；　for　as　a　woman　he　would　have　been　easily　superior　to　them。
If　we　could　suppose　him　a　woman　as　Mme。　Bernhardt；　in　spite　of　herself；
invites　us　to　do；　we　could　only　suppose　him　to　have　solved　his
perplexities　with　the　delightful　precipitation　of　his　putative　sex。
As　the　niece　of　a　wicked　uncle；　who　in　that　case　would　have　had　to　be　a
wicked　aunt；　wedded　to　Hamlet's　father　hard　upon　the　murder　of　her
mother；　she　would　have　made　short　work　of　her　vengeance。　　No　fine
scruples　would　have　delayed　her；　she　would　not　have　had　a　moment's
question　whether　she　had　not　better　kill　herself；　she　would　have　out　with
her　bare　bodkin　and　ended　the　doubt　by　first　passing　it　through　her
aunt's　breast。

To　be　sure；　there　would　then　have　been　no　play　of　〃　Hamlet；〃　as　we　have
it；　but　a　Hamlet　like　that　imagined；　a　frankly　feminine　Hamlet；　Mme。
Bernhardt　could　have　rendered　wonderfully。　　It　is　in　attempting　a
masculine　Hamlet　that　she　transcends　the　imaginable　and　violates　an
ideal。　　It　is　not　thinkable。　　After　you　have　seen　it　done；　you　say；　as
Mr。　Clemens　is　said　to　have　said　of　bicycling：　〃Yes；　I　have　seen　it；　but
it's　impossible。　　It　doesn't　stand　to　reason。〃

Art；　like　law；　is　the　perfection　of　reason；　and　whatever　is　unreasonable
in　the　work　of　an　artist　is　inartistic。　　By　the　time　I　had　reached　these
bold　conclusions　I　was　ready　to　deduce　a　principle　from　them；　and　to
declare　that　in　a　true　civilization　such　a　thing　as　that　Hamlet　would　be
forbidden；　as　an　offence　against　public　morals；　a　violence　to　something
precious　and　sacred。

In　the　absence　of　any　public　regulation　the　precious　and　sacred　ideals　in
the　arts　must　be　trusted　to　the　several　artists；　who　bring　themselves　to
judgment　when　they　violate　them。　　After　Mme。　Bernhardt　was　perversely
willing　to　attempt　the　part　of　Hamlet；　the　question　whether　she　did　it
well　or　not　was　of　slight　consequence。　　She　had　already　made　her　failure
in　wishing　to　play　the　part。　　Her　wish　impugned　her　greatness　as　an
artist；　of　a　really　great　actress　it　would　have　been　as　unimaginable　as
the　assumption　of　a　sublime　feminine　role　by　a　really　great　actor。　　There
is　an　obscure　law　in　this　matter　which　it　would　be　interesting　to　trace；
but　for　the　present　I　must　leave　the　inquiry　with　the　reader。　　I　can　note
merely　that　it　seems　somehow　more　permissible　for　women　in　imaginary
actions　to　figure　as　men　than　for　men　to　figure　as　women。　　In　the　theatre
we　have　conjectured　how　and　why　this　may　be；　but　the　privilege；　for　less
obvious　reasons；　seems　yet　more　liberally　granted　in　fiction。　　A　woman
may　tell　a　story　in　the　character　of　a　man　and　not　give　offence；　but　a
man　cannot　write　a　novel　in　autobiographical　form　from　the　personality　of
a　woman　without　imparting　the　sense　of　something　unwholesome。　　One　feels
this　true　even　in　the　work　of　such　a　master　as　Tolstoy；　whose　Katia　is　a
case　in　point。　　Perhaps　a　woman　may　play　Hamlet　with　a　less　shocking
effect　than　a　man　may　play　Desdemona；　but　all　the　same　she　must　not　play
Hamlet　at　all。　　That　sublime　ideal　is　the　property　of　the　human
imagination；　and　may　not　be　profaned　by　a　talent　enamoured　of　the
impossible。　　No　harm　could　be　done　by　the　broadest　burlesque；　the　most
irreverent　travesty；　for　these　would　still　leave　the　ideal　untouched。
Hamlet；　after　all　the　horse…play；　would　be　Hamlet；　but　Hamlet　played　by　a
woman；　to　satisfy　her　caprice；　or　to　feed　her　famine　for　a　fresh　effect；
is　Hamlet　disabled；　for　a　long　time；　at　least；　in　its　vital　essence。
I　felt　that　it　would　take　many　returns　to　the　Hamlet　of　Shakespeare　to
efface　the　impression　of　Mme。　Bernhardt's　Hamlet；　and　as　I　prepared　to
escape　from　my　row　of　stalls　in　the　darkening　theatre；　I　experienced　a
noble　shame　for　having　seen　the　Dane　so　disnatured；　to　use　Mr。　Lowell's
word。　　I　had　not　been　obliged　to　come；　I　had　voluntarily　shared　in　the
wrong　done；　by　my　presence　I　had　made　myself　an　accomplice　in　the　wrong。
It　was　high　ground；　but　not　too　high　for　me；　and　I　recovered　a　measure　of
self…respect　in　assuming　it。






THE　MIDNIGHT　PLATOON

He　had　often　heard　of　it。　　Connoisseurs　of　such　matters；　young　newspaper
men　trying　to　make　literature　out　of　life　and　smuggle　it　into　print　under
the　guard　of　unwary　editors；　and　young　authors　eager　to　get　life　into
their　literature；　had　recommended　it　to　him　as　one　of　the　most　impressive
sights　of　the　city；　and　he　had　willingly　agreed　with　them　that　he　ought
to　see　it。　　He　imagined　it　very　dramatic；　and　he　was　surprised　to　find　it
in　his　experience　so　largely　subjective。　　If　there　was　any　drama　at　all
it　was　wholly　in　his　own　consciousness。　　But　the　thing　was　certainly
impressive　in　its　way。




I。

He　thought　it　a　great　piece　of　luck　that　he　should　come　upon　it　by
chance；　and　so　long　after　he　had　forgotten　about　it　that　he　was　surprised
to　recognize　it　for　the　spectacle　he　had　often　promised　himself　the
pleasure　of　seeing。

Pleasure　is　the　right　word；　for　pleasure　of　the　painful　sort　that　all
hedonists　will　easily　imagine　was　what　he　expected　to　get　from　it；　though
upon　the　face　of　it　there　seems　no　reason　why　a　man　should　delight　to　see
his　fellow…men　waiting　in　the　winter　street　for　the　midnight　dole　of
bread　which　must　in　some　cases　be　their　only　meal　from　the　last　midnight
to　the　next　midnight。　　But　the　mere　thought　of　it　gave　him　pleasure；　and
the　sight　of　it；　from　the　very　first　instant。　　He　was　proud　of　knowing
just　what　it　was　at　once；　with　the　sort　of　pride　which　one　has　in　knowing
an　earthquake；　though　one　has　never　felt　one　before。　　He　saw　the　double
file　of　men　stretching　up　one　street；　and　stretching　down　the　other　from
the　corner　of　the　bakery　where　the　loaves　were　to　be　given　out　on　the
stroke　of　twelve；　and　he　hugged　himself　in　a　luxurious　content　with　his
perspicacity。

It　was　all　the　more　comfortable　to　do　this　because　he　was　in　a　coup；
warmly　shut　against　the　sharp；　wholesome　Christmas…week　weather；　and　was
wrapped　to　the　chin　in　a　long　fur　overcoat；　which　he　wore　that　night　as　a
duty　to　his　family；　with　a　conscience　against　taking　cold　and　alarming
them　for　his　health。　　He　now　practised　another　piece　of　self…denial：　he
let　the　cabman　drive　rapidly　past　the　interesting　spectacle；　and　carry
him　to　the　house　where　he　was　going　to　fetch　away　the　child　from　the
Christmas　party。　　He　wished　to　be　in　good　time；　so　as　to　save　the　child
from　anxiety　about　his　coming；　but　he　promised　himself　to　stop；　going
back；　and　glut　his　sensibility　in　a　leisurely　study　of　the　scene。　　He　got
the　child；　with　her　arms　full　of　things　from　the　Christmas…tree；　into　the
coup；　and　then　he　said　to　the　cabman；　respectfully　leaning　as　far　over
from　his　box　to　listen　as　his　thick　greatcoat　would　let　him：　〃When　you
get　up　there　near　that　bakery　again；　drive　slowly。　　I　want　to　have　a　look
at　those　men。〃

〃All　right；　sir；〃　said　the　driver　intelligently；　and　he　found　his　why
skilfully　out　of　the　street　among　the　high　banks　of　the　seasonable
Christmas…week　snow；　which　the　street…cleaners　had　heaped　up　there　till
they　could　get　round　to　it　with　their　carts。

When　they　were　in　Broadway　again　it　seemed　lonelier　and　silenter　than　it
was　a　few　minutes　before。　　Except　for　their　own　coup；　the　cable…cars；
with　their　flaming　foreheads；　and　the　mechanical　clangor　of　their　gongs
at　the　corners；　seemed　to　have　it　altogether　to　themselves。　　A　tall；
lumbering　United　States　mail　van　rolled　by；　and　impressed　my　friend　in
the　coup　with　a　cheap　and　agreeable　sense　of　mystery　relative　to　the
letters　it　was　carrying　to　their　varied　destination　at　the　Grand　Central
Station。　　He　listened　with　half　an　ear　to　the　child's　account　of　the　fun
she　had　at　the　party；　and　he　watched　with　both　eyes　for　the　sight　of　the
men　waiting　at　the　bakery　for　the　charity　of　the　midnight　loaves。

He　played　with　a　fear　that　they　might　all　have　vanished；　and　with　an
apprehension　that　the　cabman　might　forget　and　whirl　him　rapidly　by　the
place　where　he　had　left　them。　　But　the　driver　remembered；　and　checked　his
horses　in　good　time；　and　there　were　the　men　still；　but　in　even　greater
number　than　before；　stretching　farther　up　Broadway　and　farther　out　along
the　side　street。　　They　stood　slouched　in　dim　and　solemn　phalanx　under　the
night　sky；　so　seasonably；　clear　and　frostily　atwinkle　with　Christmas…week
stars；　two　by　two　they　stood；　slouched　close　together；　perhaps　for　their
mutual　warmth；　perhaps　in　an　unconscious　effort　to　get　near　the　door
where　the　loaves　were　to　be　given　out；　in　time　to　share　in　them　before
they　were　all　gone。




II。

My　friend's　heart　beat　with　glad　anticipation。　　He　was　really　to　see　this
important；　this　representative　thing　to　the　greatest　possible　advantage。
He　rapidly　explained　to　his　companion　that　the　giver　of　the　midnight
loaves　got　rid　of　what　was　left　of　his　daily　bread　in　that　way：　the　next
day　it　could　not　be　sold；　and　he　preferred　to　give　it　away　to　those　who
needed　it；　rather　than　try　to　find　his　account　in　it　otherwise。　　She
understood；　and　he　tried　to　think　that　sometimes　coffee　was　given　with
the　bread；　but　he　could　not　make　sure　of　this；　though　he　would　have　liked
very　much　to　have　it　done；　it　would　have　been　much　more　dramatic。
Afterwards　he　learned　that　it　was　done；　and　he　was　proud　of　having
fancied　it。

He　decided　that　when　he　came　alongside　of　the　Broadway　file　he　would　get
out；　and　go　to　the　side　door　of　the　bakery　and　watch　the　men　receiving
the　bread。　　Perhaps　he　would　find　courage　to　speak　to　them；　and　ask　them
about　themselves。　　At　the　time　it　did　not　strike　him　that　it　would　be
indecent。

A　great　many　things　about　them　were　open　to　reasonable　conjecture。　　It
was　not　probable　that　they　were　any　of　them　there　for　their　health；　as
the　saying　is。　　They　were　all　there　because　they　were　hungry；　or　else
they　were　there　in　behalf　of　some　one　else　who　was　hungry。　　But　it　was
always　possible　that　some　of　them　were　impostors；　and　he　wondered　if　any
test　was　applied　to　them　that　would　prove　them　deserving　or　undeser