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Apocryphal Tales

Page 12

by Karel Čapek


  And so I told him that it was an impossible situation, that he had to send away at least half of those worthless good-for-nothings who were eating me out of house and home. And do you know, he was offended! He accused me of ingratitude and all sorts of things; you have no idea how absolutely furious he was. Still, I know what’s right and what isn’t. Men only worry about their honor, but we women, we have to think about running a household and keeping things in order. They don’t care if the place is like a stable. Tell me, nurse, was I right or wasn’t I? There, you see? Father was deathly offended. But what was I supposed to do? I know I have a duty to him, nurse, but as a woman I also have a duty to my home, don’t I? And for that, father cursed me. And the duke — all he did was blink his eyes and shuffle from one foot to the other. Do you think he’d stand up for me? No. He let me be treated like an evil, petty scold. Nurse — listen, nurse, at that moment something inside me seemed to snap: I — I — I began to hate my husband. I hate him, and now you know! I hate him! And I hate father because it was his fault, do you understand? And that’s how it is, that’s how it is; I’m evil, I know, but I’m evil only because I was right —

  No, don’t say anything; I truly am evil. Of course you know I have a lover, don’t you? If you only realized how little it matters to me that you know! Do you think I love Edmund? I don’t; but one way or another I want revenge on the duke, because he — because he didn’t conduct himself like a man. I simply hate him. Nurse, you have no idea what it is to hate! It means to be evil, evil, evil through and through. Once you begin to hate — it’s as if you’re altogether changed. I used to be a good girl, really, nurse, and I could have become a good woman; I used to be a daughter, I used to be a sister, now I am evil and nothing more. Now I don’t even love you, nurse, I don’t even love myself — not even myself. I was right, and if they had acknowledged it, I would be a different woman, believe me —

  No, I’m not crying. Don’t think this pains me in any way. Quite the contrary: you are freer when you hate. You can think what you like — and you needn’t stop at anything. Before, I didn’t have the courage to see my husband as he is, to see that he’s mean-spirited, that he’s potbellied, that he’s a coward, that his hands are sweaty; and now I see it. Now I see that my father is a ludicrous tyrant, that he’s a toothless and muddle-headed old man — I see it all. I see that Regan is a viper and I, oh nurse, I have such strange and appalling things inside me — things I never suspected before. And it all happened so suddenly. But tell me, is it my fault? I was right; they shouldn’t have pushed me so far —

  — — No, you can’t understand it, nurse. Sometimes I think I could kill the duke while he’s snoring beside me. Simply slit him with a hunting knife. Or poison Regan — here’s some wine for you, sister dear, drink up. Do you know that Regan wants to take Edmund away from me? Not that she loves him; Regan’s cold as stone. But she’s plotting against me. She’s counting on Edmund somehow getting that fool of a duke out of the way and seizing the throne for himself once Lear dies. That’s it for a certainty, nurse. Regan’s a widow now — and that shrew’s been lucky from the first. But don’t imagine for a minute she’ll succeed, nurse: I’m keeping careful watch and — I hate. I don’t even sleep, so that I can think and hate. If you only knew how beautifully and boundlessly one can hate in the dark of night. And when I remember that it all happened only because of father’s stubbornness and the shambles they made of my house — Tell me if any mistress of a household could have put up with that —

  Nurse, nurse, nurse, why didn’t they see then, so long ago, that I was right!

  January 29, 1933

  Hamlet, Prince of Denmark

  Scene x

  [ROSENKRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN are exiting]

  HAMLET: Just one moment more, dear Guildenstern, And Rosenkrantz, a word!

  ROSENKRANTZ: A word, my prince?

  GUILDENSTERN: What is your wish, my prince?

  HAMLET: A question only.

  The court performance of that tragedy

  Wherein a king is poisoned — how did it,

  Do you think, affect the King?

  ROSENKRANTZ: Oh, terribly.

  HAMLET: Ah, terribly?

  GUILDENSTERN: He was beside himself.

  HAMLET: And what about the Queen?

  ROSENKRANTZ: My prince, she fainted

  HAMLET: And the rest?

  GUILDENSTERN: Whom does Your Highness mean?

  HAMLET: Well, you, the courtiers, the courtly ladies,

  And whoever else was present in the hall

  And saw it played. Did they not say a word?

  ROSENKRANTZ: Nothing, prince.

  GUILDENSTERN: They were so captivated,

  They could not bring themselves to speak a word.

  HAMLET: And what about Polonius?

  GUILDENSTERN: He wept.

  HAMLET: And the courtiers?

  ROSENKRANTZ: They sobbed, my prince,

  And I myself could not hold back the tears.

  I saw friend Guildenstern here hide within

  His sleeve the telltale moisture from his eyes.

  HAMLET: The soldiers, then?

  ROSENKRANTZ: They turned aside their faces

  To conceal the power of their emotion.

  HAMLET: And so, accordingly, you think the play —

  ROSENKRANTZ: A fabulous success.

  GUILDENSTERN: And well deserved.

  ROSENKRANTZ: That splendid scenery!

  GUILDENSTERN: That thrilling story!

  HAMLET: Hm, I grant it had its share of flaws

  ROSENKRANTZ: I beg your pardon, prince, what flaws?

  HAMLET: For instance...

  I’m sure it could have been still better played.

  I know those actors did their best; and yet,

  Their king was not as kingly as he should be,

  And their murderer not murderous enough.

  Were I to play the role of murderer, a murderer

  Himself would see before him, by Hecatë,

  For the first time just what murder is!

  Dear gentlemen, here, judge me for yourselves! ( He acts.)

  ROSENKRANTZ: That’s splendid, prince!

  GUILDENSTERN: Superbly played

  ROSENKRANTZ: My God, my prince, one might well think

  That you yourself have seen a murderer

  Go slinking off to do his grisly deed.

  HAMLET: No, Rosenkrantz, it’s simply in me — as for

  Whence and why, who knows? But psst, come closer.

  Hamlet —

  GUILDENSTERN: Yes, prince?

  HAMLET: Hamlet has his secret.

  ROSENKRANTZ: A secret, prince?

  HAMLET: A great, important secret.

  Not for courtiers, but for the ears

  Of best friends only. Closer!

  GUILDENSTERN: Yes, my prince.

  HAMLET: No, not prince!

  GUILDENSTERN: Your Highness?

  HAMLET: Merely Hamlet.

  GUILDENSTERN: As you wish, prince.

  HAMLET: Good. Now listen to me

  And keep entirely to yourselves this plan

  I’ve so carefully ripened.

  ROSENKRANTZ: What plan, prince?

  HAMLET: I want to be an actor.

  ROSENKRANTZ: Truly, prince?

  HAMLET: It is decided, Rosenkrantz. Tomorrow,

  When those actors leave, I’ll go with them.

  In each and every town we’ll act this play

  About a great king who was foully murdered;

  About a murderer who stole his throne

  And stole into his still-warm nuptial bed;

  About a queen who, scarce one month a widow,

  Lies upon that sweat-drenched couch and dallies

  With the murderous coward, knave, and thief

  Who stole the realm . . . The more I think on it,

  The more his character appeals to me.

  To play the man in all his wretched vileness,

&n
bsp; That base, perverted reptile who infects

  With scabrous fingers everything he touches

  — What a part! I’d act it very differently,

  Differently than did that strolling player

  — Though he did his best, he was not equal

  To such evil. Let him play the king;

  He lacks the greatness needed for the villain.

  What a shame the role was wasted on him!

  How I would have played it! I’d have wormed

  My way into his slippery soul until

  I’d squeezed the final drop of all there is

  Of human wickedness! Ah, what a part!

  GUILDENSTERN: And what a play!

  HAMLET: Not altogether bad —

  ROSENKRANTZ: It was outstanding!

  HAMLET: Well, it could have used

  A bit more work, but on the whole — perhaps

  I’ll take the subject up again some day —

  It would be worth it: yes, that traitorous king,

  That base, deformed, disgusting character

  Entices me no end. Dear Rosenkrantz,

  I want to write plays.

  ROSENKRANTZ: Excellent, my prince!

  HAMLET: I’ll write. I have so much to write about

  — That villain was the first. The next will be

  About disgraceful, fawning courtiers —

  ROSENKRANTZ: Fantastic, prince!

  HAMLET: The third: a comedy

  About an old, thick-witted chamberlain —

  GUILDENSTERN: Outstanding theme!

  HAMLET: The fourth will be about

  A girl.

  ROSENKRANTZ: What kind of play?

  HAMLET: Well, just a play.

  GUILDENSTERN: A gratifying theme.

  ROSENKRANTZ: And quite poetic.

  HAMLET: And Hamlet will write on. A blackguard seated

  On the throne will grind the people’s faces,

  Courtiers will scrape and bow, and Hamlet

  Will write on. And wars will come which make

  Life far worse for the weak but better for

  The strong, and Hamlet will write on. And not

  Rise up and try to —

  GUILDENSTERN: Try what, prince?

  HAMLET: Who knows?

  What can one do against bad governing?

  ROSENKRANTZ: Nothing.

  HAMLET: Absolutely nothing?

  GUILDENSTERN: Well,

  From time to time, in history, there has been

  Some man who rose and stood before the people

  And by his eloquence or by example

  Prevailed upon them to rebel against

  Bad government and crush it.

  ROSENKRANTZ: Ah, but that, prince,

  Happens only in the history books.

  HAMLET: Well, well. In history only. And you say

  That eloquence can motivate the people?

  Grief is speechless. Someone must appear

  Who calls things by their rightful names, who says

  This is oppression, this is grave injustice,

  A dreadful crime is being done to you,

  And he who calls himself your king is but

  A thief, a murderer, a lecher — right?

  If any one of you is still a man,

  Why do you tolerate this degradation,

  Why do you not take up your swords and cudgels?

  Or are you gelded by your shame, mere slaves

  Who are content to live without your honor — ?

  GUILDENSTERN: Eloquent, my prince, most eloquent..

  HAMLET: Ah, eloquent? Then what if I — as in

  The history books — came forth and brought to life

  By my own eloquence the people’s voice?

  ROSENKRANTZ: The people are assuredly devoted

  To their prince.

  HAMLET: And later, at their head,

  O’erthrew the tainted throne?

  GUILDENSTERN: Your pardon, prince,

  That’s politics.

  HAMLET: A most unusual feeling,

  To see so great a task before one! Thanks,

  Good gentlemen.

  ROSENKRANTZ: We won’t disturb you, prince.

  [Exeunt ROSENKRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

  HAMLET: To be or not to be, that is the question.

  If to be, then what? To be, O heaven,

  Prince indeed! To stand beside the throne,

  A smile upon my lips, well-mannered, loyal

  — And why not on the throne? Another’s there!

  To wait, then, till the day he dies, until

  His black blood curdles? Must I? No! I’d rather

  Plunge a knife into the traitor’s breast,

  Avenge a father’s death and wash the shame

  From out a mother’s bed! Why do I then

  Still hesitate? Am I some bloodless craven?

  No, not so. I watch, drink in that loathsome

  Face, those lustful lips and roving eyes,

  And sense: I’ve got him now, can grasp him now,

  Can do him justice; secretly I try

  To slip behind those jowls. Ah, what a part!

  To be an actor — yes! I would reveal

  It all, the surreptitious, shameless evil

  Well concealed inside that smiling snout.

  Alluring, yes, alluring. But what if

  Only his coevals know that face,

  And later — no one? Better to convict him

  For all time, and all the human monsters

  He has gathered round him — all that’s rotten

  In the state of Denmark! Splendid task:

  But in truth, I am a poet! I can write

  Indictments which will long outlive the ages,

  With immortal, uncorrupted finger

  Pointing at that suppurating sore —

  Ah, such eloquence! A pity, surely,

  That I waste it merely on myself?

  Then stand up in the marketplace, convene

  The people there, and speak, and speak —

  They are not made of clay; a man of eloquence

  Could rouse a purging storm against all tyrants!

  Alluring, yes, alluring. — Ah, but then

  I’d lose the chance to play that role! A pity!

  What an actor I could be! And yet,

  As actor, would I then have time to rouse

  The storms that topple thrones? — But then again

  I’d have no time to write my plays! A pity!

  Well then, what? By acting in a play

  Unmask the tyrant? Nail him like a bat

  Upon the city’s gate forevermore?

  Or urge the mob to sweep him from the throne?

  Well then, what? — And what if, simply, I deceive

  Myself in thinking that I want revenge?

  Why be an actor if my only reason

  Is to tear the man’s mask from his jowls?

  If I’m to act, then it should be because

  It’s in me and because I must, I must

  By nature create human characters,

  Be they good or base! But even so,

  I’d dearly love to play him — what a part!

  To be, in short, an actor! Or to write —

 

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