The Artist
:\ DRAMA VVITHOiri' WORDS
Henry L. Mencken
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PS
Copyright, igog, by
xne Bokemian Publisking Comt>uiy
Copyright, igi2, by
Henry L. Mencken
The Four Seas Press Boston, Mass., U.S.A.
A Great Pianist
A Janitor
Six Mtisical Critics
A Married Woman
A Virgin
Sixteen-hundred and fofiy-ihree
Other Women Six Other Men TIME A December Afternoon PLACE A City of the United States m%. ll^'^SSSS
crT^OTE
During the action of the play not a word is uttered aloud. All the speeches of the charac- ters are supposed to be unspoken meditations.
A large, gloomy hall, with many rows of uncushioned, uncomfortable seats, de- signed, it would seem, by some one mis- informed as to the average width of the normal human pelvis. A number of busts of celebrated composers, once white, but now a dirty gray, stand in niches along the walls. At one end of the hall there is a bare, uncarpeted stage, with nothing on it save a grand piano and a chair. It is raining outside, and, as hundreds of people come crowding in, the air is laden with the w,ingled scefits of umbrellas, raincoats, goloshes^ cos- metics, perfumery and wet hair.
At eight mijiutes past four, the Janitor, after smoothing his hair with his hands a?id putting on a pair of detachable cuffs, e- merges from the ivings and crosses the
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stage, his shoes squeaking hideously at each step. Arriving at the piano, he opens it with solemn slowness. The job seems so absurdly trivial, even to so mean an understanding ^ that he can't refrain from glorifying it with a bit of hocus-pocus. This takes the form of a careful adjustment of a mysterious some- thing within the instrument. He reaches in, pauses a moment as if in doubt^ reaches in again, and then per- mits a faint smile of conscious sapience and efficiency to illuminate his face. All of this accomplished, he tiptoes back to the wingSy his shoes again squeaking,
THE JANITOR cSNow all of them people think I'm the professor's tuner.
[ The thought gives him such delight thaf^ for a moment, his brain is numbed. Then he proceeds. ]
I guess them tuners make pretty good [121
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money. I wish I could get the hang of the trick. It looks eas/^.
[,By this time he has disappeared in the wings and the stage is again a des- ert. Two or three women ^ far back in the hall, start a half -hearted hand- clapping. It dies out at once. The noise of rustling programmes and shuffling feet succeeds it. ]
FOUR HUNDRED OF THE WOMEN Oh, I do certainly hope he plays that lovely Valse Poup6e as an encore ! They say he does it better than Bloomfield-Zei- sleP.
ONE OF THE CRITICS I hope the animal doesn't pull any en- core numbers that I don't recognize. cAU of these people will buy the paper to- morrow morning just to find out what they have heard. It's infernally embar- rassing to have to ask the manager. The 1131
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public expects a musical critic to be a sort of walking thematic catalogue. The pub- lic is an ass.
THE SIX OTHER MEN
Oh, Lord! ^A^at a way to spend an afternoon !
A HUNDRED OF THE WOMEN
I wonder if he's as handsome as Pade- rewski.
ANOTHER HUNDRED OF THE WOMEN
I wonder if he's as gentlemanly as Josef Hofmann.
STILL ANOTHER HUNDRED WOMEN
I wonder if he's as fascinating as De Pachmann.
YET OTHER HUNDREDS
I wonder if he has dark eyes. You ne- ver can tell by those awful photographs in the newspapers.
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HALF A DOZEN WOMEN I wonder if he can really play the piano.
THE CRITIC AFORESAID What a hell of a long wait ! These rot- ten piano-thumping immigrants deserve a hard call-down. But what's the use ? The piano manufacfturers bring them over here to wallop their pianos— and the pi- ano manufacSlurers are not afraid to ad- vertise. If you knock them too hard you have a nasty business-office row on your hands.
ONE OF THE MEN
If they allowed smoking, it wouldn't be so bad.
ANOTHER MAN
I wonder if that woman across the aisle—
\_The Great Pianist bounces upon the stage so suddenly that he is bowing in the 1151
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center before any one thinks to ap- plaud. He makes three stiff bows. At the second the applause begins, swelling at ance to a roar. He steps up to the piano, bows three times more, a nd then sits down . He hunch- es his shoulders, reaches for the pedals with his feet, spreads out his hands and waits for the clapper-clawing to cease. He is an undersized, paunchy East German^ with hair the color of wet hay, and an extremely pallid com- plexion. Talcum powder hides the fa5l that his nose is shiny and some- what pink. His eyebrows are care- fully pencilled and there are artificial shadows under his eyes. His face is absolutely expressionless J\
THE VIRGIN Oh!
THE MARRIED WOMEN
Oh!
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THE OTHER WOMEN
Oh ! How dreadfully handsome !
THE VIRGIN Oh, such eyes ! Such depth ! How he must have suffered ! I'd like to hear him play the Prelude in D-flat major. It would drive you crazy !
THE MARRIED WOMAN
How he could play the Moonlight — or the Appassionata !
A HUNDRED OTHER WOMEN
I certainly do hope he plays some Schu- mann.
OTHER WOMEN
What beautiful hands ! I could kiss them 1
\_The great Pianist^ throTving back his head, strikes the massive opening chords of a Beethoven sonata. There [17]
is a sudden hush and each note is heard clearly. The tempo of the first movement, which begins after a grand pause, is allegro con brio, and the first subject is given out in a sparkling cascade of sound. But de- spite the buoyancy of the music, there is an unmistakable undercurrent of melancholy in the playing . The aud' ience doesn't fail to notice it. 2
THE VIRGIN Oh, perfec5t ! I could love him ! Pad- erewski played it like a barn dance. W^hat poetry he puts into it ! I can ape a soldier lover marching off to war . . . and thro-wing kisses to his sweetheart . . .
ONE OF THE CRITICS
The ass is dragging it. Doesn't con brio
mean — well, what the devil does it mean ?
I forget. I must look it up before I write
the notice. Somehow, brio suggests
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cheese. Anyhow, Pachmann plays it a damn sight faster. It's safe to say Ma/, at all events.
THE MARRIED WOMAN
Oh, I could listen to that sonata all day! The poetry he puts into it— even into the allegro ! Just think what the andante will be ! I like music to be sad.
ANOTHER WOMAN
What a sob he gets into it I
MANY OTHER WOMEN How exquisite !
THE GREAT PIANIST \^Gathering himself together for the difficult development section.^
That American beer will be the death of me ! I wonder what they put into it to give it that gassy taste. And the so-called German beer they sell over here— good
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Lord ! Even Bremen would be ashamed of it. In Munchen the police would take a hand.
\_Aiming for the first and second Cs above the staff, he accidentally strikes the C sharps instead and has to transpose three measures to get back into the key. The effeSl is harrowing, and he gives his audience a swift glance of appre- hension^
TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY WOMEN
What new beauties he gets out of it !
A MAN
He can tickle the ivories, all right, all right!
A CRITIC
^Vell, at any rate, he doesn't try to imi- tate Paderewski.
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THE GREAT PIANIST
\_Relieved by the non-appearajice of the hisses he expelled, '\
Well, it's lucky for me that I'm not in Leipzig today ! But in Leipzig an artist runs no risks: the beer is pure. The authorities see to that. The worst enemy of technique is biliousness, and biliousness is sure to follow bad beer.
\^He gets to the coda at last and takes it at a somewhat livelier pace. ^
THE VIRGIN How I envy the woman he loves ! How it would thrill me to feel his arms about me— to be drawn closer, closer, closer I I would give up the whole world ! ^A^at are conventions, prejudices, legal forms, morality, after all ? Vanities I Love is be- yond and above them all— aoid art is love ! I think I must be a pagan. [21]
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THE GREAT PIANIST
And the herring ! Good God, what her- ring ! These infernal cAmericans —
THE VIRGIN Really, I am quite indecent ! I should blush, I suppose. But love is never a- shamed — How people misunderstand me!
THE MARRIED WOMAN
I wonder if he's faithful. The chances are against it. I never heard of a man ^vho ^vas.
[,An agreeable melancholy overcomes her and she gives herself up to the mood with- out further thought^
THE GREAT PIANIST
I wonder what ever became of that girl
in Dresden. Every time I think of her,
she suggests pleasant thoughts— good
beer, a fine band, gemuethlichkeit, I must
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have been in love with her— not much, of course, but just enough to make things pleasant. And not a single letter from her ! I suppose she thinks I'm starving to death over here— or tuning pianos. W^ell, when I get back with the money there'll be a shock for her. A shock— but not a pfennig!
THE MARRIED WOMAN \_Her emotional coma ended. ^
Still, you can hardly blame him. There must be a good deal of temptation for a great artist. All of these frumps here would—
THE VIRGIN Ah, how dolorous, how^ exquisite is love! How small the world would seem if—
THE MARRIED WOMAN
Of course you could hardly call such old scarecrows temptations. But still— 1231
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[ The Great Pianist comes to the last measure of the coda— a passage of almost Haydnesque clarity and spirit. As he strikes the broad chord of the tonic there comes a roar of applause. He arises, moves a step or two down the stage, and makes a series of low bows, his hands to his heart. ~\
THE GREAT PIANIST \_Bo7ving.'\ I wonder why the American w^omen always wear raincoats to piano re- citals. Even when the sun is shining brightly, one sees hundreds of them. W^hat a disagreeable smell they give to the hall. [_More applause and more bows.~\ An American audience always smells of rubber and lilies-of-the-valley. How dif- ferent in London I There an audience al- ways smells of soap. In Paris it reminds you of sachet bags— and lingerie. [ The applause ceases and he returns to the piano ^ And now comes that damned adagio, [24]
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[.As he begins to play, a deathlike silence falls upon the hall.'\
ONE OF THE CRITICS \A^at rotten pedaling !
ANOTHER CRITIC A touch like a xylophone player, but he knows how to use his feet. That suggests a good line for the notice— * 'he plays bet- ter with his feet than w^ith his hands," or something like that. I'll have to think it over and polish it up.
ONE OF THE OTHER MEN
Now comes some more of that awful classical stuff.
THE VIRGIN Suppose he can't speak English? But that wouldn't matter. Nothing matters. Love is beyond and above — I25J
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SIX HUNDRED WOMEN
Oh, how beautiful !
THE MARRIED WOMAN
Perfect I
THE DEAN OF THE CRITICS [Sinking quickly into the slumber which always overtakes him during the adagio^
C-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h!
THE YOUNGEST CRITIC
There is that old fraud asleep again. And tomorrow he'll print half a column of vapid reminiscence and call it criticism. It's a wonder his paper stands for him. Because he once heard Liszt, he seems to be a privileged charac5ter.
THE GREAT PIANIST That plump girl over on the left is not so bad. As for the rest, I beg to be [26]
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excused. The American women have no more shape than so many matches. They are too tall and too thin. I like a nice rubbery armful— like that Dresden girl. Or that harpist in Moscow— the girl with the Pilsner hair. Let me see, what was her name? Oh, Fritzi, to be sure— but her last name? Schmidt? Kraus? Meyer? I'll have to try to think of it, and send her a postcard.
THE MARRIED WOMAN
What delicious flutelike tones !
ONE OF THE WOMEN If Beethoven could only be here to hear it! He would cry for very joy! Maybe he does hear it. Who knows ? I believe he does. I am sure he does.
[ T/ie Great Pianist reaches the end of the adagio, and there is another burst of applause, which awakens the Dean of the Critics.^
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THE DEAN OF THE CRITICS
Oh, piffle! Compared to Gottschalk, the man is an amateur. Let him go back to the conservatory for a couple of years.
ONE OF THE MEN
[Looking at his programme . ]
Next comes the shirt-so. I hope it has some tune in it.
THE VIRGIN The adagio is love's agony, but the scherzo is love triumphant. ^Vhat beauti- ful eyes he has ! And how pale he is !
THE GREAT PIANIST [^Resuming his grim toil^
Well, there's half of it over. But this scherzo is ticklish business. That horrible evening in Prague— v^ill I ever forget it? Those hisses — and the papers next day ! [281
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ONE OF THE MEN Go it, professor! That's the best you've done yet !
ONE OF THE CRITICS
Too fast !
ANOTHER CRITIC
Too slow !
A YOUNG GIRL My, but ain't the professor just full of talent !
THE GREAT PIANIST
Well, so far no accident.
[,He negotiates a difficult passage, and plays it triumphaiitly , but at some expendi- ture of cold perspiration . ]
What a hellish way for a man to make a living !
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THE VIRGIN "What passion he puts into it ! His soul is in his finger tips.
A CRITIC A human pianola !
THE GREAT PIANIST This scherzo always fetches the women. I can hear them draw long breaths. That plump girl is getting pale. Well, why shouldn't she ? I suppose I'm about the best pianist she has ever heard— or ever will hear. ^A^hat people can see in that Hambourg fellow I never could imagine. In Chopin, Schumann, Grieg, you might fairly say he's pretty good. But it takes an ajiist to play Beethoven.
\_He rattles on to the end of the scherzo and there is more applause. Then he dashes into the finale^
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THE DEAN OF THE CRITICS
Too loud! Too loud! It sounds like an ash-cart going down an alleys. But \vhat can you expec5t ? Piano playing is a lost art. Paderewski ruined it.
THE GREAT PIANIST I ought to clear 200,000 marks by this towniie. If it weren't for those thieving agents and hotel-keepers, I'd make 300,000. Just think of it— twenty-four marks a day for a room ! That's the way these Ame- ricans treat a visiting artist ! The country is worse than Bulgaria. I was treated better at Bucharest. V^ell, it won't last forever. As soon as I get enough of their money they'll see me no more. Vienna is the place to settle down. A nice studio at 50 marks a month— and the life of a gentleman. "What was the name of that red-cheeked little girl in the cafe on the Franzjosefstrasse— that girl with the gold tooth and the silk stockings ? I'll have to look her up.
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THE VIRGIN "What an artist I V/hat a master ! What a—
THE MARRIED WOMAN
Has he really suffered, or is it just in- tuition ?
THE GREAT PIANIST No, marriage is a waste of money. Let the other fellow marry her.
[_He approaches the closing measures of the finale.^
And now for a breathing spell and a swal- low of beer. American beer ! Bah ! But it's better than nothing. The Americans drink water. Cattle I Animals ! Ach, Muen- chen, wie bist du so schoen!
\_As he concludes there is a whirlwind of applause and he is forced to bow a- gain and again. Finally, he is per- [32]
mitted to retire, and the audience pre- pares to spend the short intermission in whispering , gru7iting, wrigglifig , scraping its feet, rattling its pro- grammes and gaping at hats. The Six Musical Critics and Six Other Men, their lips parched and their eyes staring, gallop for the door. As the Great Piayiist comes from the stage, the Janitor meets him, with a large glass of beer. He seizes it eagerly and downs it at a gulp.^
THE JANITOR My, but them professors can put the stuff a\vay I
PS MencKen, Henry Louis
3525 The artist
Ei!,3A8 1912
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