B007P4V3G4 EBOK (51 page)

'Is so much gold not to art's benefit7' asked the king. I wish to
give double that! Think of all the fine things you will be able to buy!'

For a moment, Karel de Man thoughtfully let his long tresses
slip through his fingers; then, smiling, he asked: 'And how many
times would you wish to act?

'Once will be sufficient.'

'Let him act,' cried the others.

'A bodice of white lace,' the mother-part whispered, lovingly
stroking the king's knees the while.

The innocent young thing whispered something at the ear of
the young lover and the father-part spoke softly to himself: 'Down
coverlets ... caviar ... mocha, and Havana cigars.

Having hesitated a long time, Karel de Man then decided: 'So be
it! Once! No need for me to worry, for the difference between us is
too great.'

'Indeed it is,' said the king.

Then he was given his part and he left at once to go and learn it
in a small chamber.

Late that night the mother-part came knocking softly on his
door. 'D'you know your part already, lovey?' she asked, 'and might
a simple little woman be of service to you?'

'Not yet,' whispered the king through a crack.

A sigh was the reply to this.

On a small stage, among tattered cloths representing the walls
of a palace, the king would celebrate his triumph.

Never before had he been so cheerful; he knew his part and did
not doubt the success of his enterprise.

Truth would vanquish make-believe!

He felt he was about to do a great deed.

Laughing, he allowed his face to be smeared with grease. A
heavy beard was stuck to his chin. His eyes, lined in black,
enlarged unnaturally, had exceptional sparkle and his perfect teeth
glinted brightly in the fiery red frame of the painted lips.

Long lengths of cloth pinned to his shoulders were his robes of
state. A gilded crown rested on his hair.

No one would recognise his face!

The majesty of his person would have to prove his right of
kingship.

Through a little hole in the curtain, he saw many faces he knew:
the mayor's, the governor of the province's and those of many
dignitaries with whom he had often been bored to tears at table.

These men will instantly recognise the monarch by the grace of
god, he thought, but the star, standing in front of another spyhole, spoke, mezzo voce, while peeping at the same people: What
on earth will all those fine gentlemen make of it.'

Nervous, he continually talked to himself, for the calmness of
the stranger had made him fearful.

He had drunk much that afternoon to divert his thoughts, but he
had remained surprisingly sober.

The purse with gold weighed heavily in his trouser pocket.

When the curtain was raised, he withdrew, trembling, into a
dark corner whence he could see everything that was happening
on stage.

The contents of the play were romantic.

A nobleman who loves a simple shepherd's daughter, vows to
marry her, but the king, not wishing their union, has the lovers
condemned to death, later - touched by their glorious faithfulness
- to grant the ardent couple his forgiveness and their lives.

Instantly upon their appearance, the lovers enthralled the audience. The simple father of the girl arrived and there was unstoppable mirth until the caring mother came tripping in who, by her
heartfelt tenderness, moved many people to tears.

Then the king strode, well-controlled, up close to the footlights.

'Odious creatures,' he said loudly, but his first words were lost
in a storm of bravos.

'Odious creatures,' he said once more with greater conviction,
for the expression of enthusiasm with which they received him he
put down to the gloriousness of his appearance.

Never had he been more conscious of his power; the great
clauses of his role he spoke with splendid certitude and he moved
the train of his robes in an uncommonly elegant fashion.

It was quiet at first and then, slowly, a hubbub began in the
auditorium and suddenly it rang out from the densely packed crowd: 'It
isn't De Man! It's someone else! He's got nothing of a king about him!'

The king did not let himself be put off by that cry. Witheringly,
he looked into the auditorium and with the certainty of a man who
knows he will gain victory, he continued with the euphonious lines
of his part.

Mocking laughter began to erupt.

The king paled. He saw the dignitaries shake their heads at one
another, winking, but he continued to speak.

The laughter became even louder then, and with the despair of
one who is being deprived of his rights, he shrieked his words into
the hall after this. But the laughter became uncontrollable and the
more fervently he trod the boards, the more shudderingly the
people moved about, gripped by hilarity.

Hysterical screams were reaching him.

Yet he went on.

It's the uncommonness of it that strikes them, he thought.
They'll appreciate me better later on. But long after he had left the
stage, people were still sniggering.

'I'm not a king,' he said softly to himself, passing by Karel de
Man sitting in his dark little comer rubbing his hands.

'I told you so, yesterday,' the actor said with something of
commiseration in his voice.

Proud, the king straightened himself out, for suddenly he felt
the humiliating nature of his position.

'The second act will prove to you who I am,' he said, haughtily.

'Ridiculous fool!' he heard the actor mutter.

The second act brought him even greater disillusionment and
the third the king could not bring to an end.

Protesting loudly, the audience left the auditorium.

Affably wiping the greasepaint from his defeated opponent's
face, Karel de Man said, in order to comfort him: 'A man is never
too old to You might still turn into something quite
acceptable, Come and see, tomorrow, and then learn
from me how a man of refinement does it.'

The king said: 'Dear friend, I'm quite knocked for six. I cannot
understand how you can be more regal than I.'

'And that's your mistake,' the actor laughed.

'Then I shall come and look, and if you are truly a worthy king,
I want to learn from you,' replied the king simply.

'His arrogant pride borders on insanity,' thought Karel de Man.

The night the king now spent was one full of strange feelings. In his little hotel room, he went nervously from the wall to the
window and from the window to the wall, his head sunk deep
down on to his chest, his warm hands clenched stiffly together.
Accustomed to the wide marble halls of his palace, he felt as if
imprisoned in the small, pokey space. He dared not pace about
loudly for fear of waking the actors sleeping in the rooms around
him, and all the time he was seeing the grim faces of the crowd,
mocking him. He heard their laughter and the sound of his own
voice reciting the dramatic verse. It seemed to him that he could
speak this far better now, that his voice could sound deeper and
richer, that his posture had not been sufficiently regal, and yet he
was certain never to have taken so much trouble to appear a man
of importance than he had that evening.

He had never declaimed his speeches from the throne in as
carefully prepared a manner as this, had never understood their
words as well. Those speeches had been received with acclaim, and
writers, in rich and lengthy paragraphs, had praised the warmth of
his voice. Time and again, courtiers had come to do him homage,
many of them even with tears of emotion in their eyes. He had
never doubted their sincerity; now, he no longer believed in anything.

He felt himself closer to the people than ever before, but now
he understood the people, he feared them. Humiliation, shame,
fear: he had learned to understand all ordinary human feelings. It
seemed to him as if he had suddenly been transplanted into
another world.

'So I shall get to know real life through ordinary people,' he
thought. 'Through Karel de Man's success, I shall have to see how
my people wish a king to be. An artist shall make me an artistking. So from De Man it is that I must learn; therefore my future
behaviour shall be according to his example:

He had forgotten the actor's strange manners and he no longer
thought of his oppressive smell of drink.

But when that tardy night had slipped away and the cheerful
star patted him in greeting on the shoulder with the affability of
one having the advantage, the king could no longer consider him
so full of hope to be his master.

'Ah yes,' said De Man, 'acting comedy seems easy but it's a
great art. In order to be a good actor one must be able intensely to
imagine oneself placed in all possible circumstances. If you want to
depict a king, it is necessary to imagine oneself to be king, Fantasy must become reality! and he blinked 'the
regal must be within you above all. That is what you lack, my
good fellow, and I saw this at once.'

Then the king felt the desire to shout out loud who he was, and
it was only with difficulty that he was able to control himself.

For the rest of that day, he stayed with the actor who continually
rattled the ducats buried in his trouser pockets and who bought all
kinds of things in a multitude of shops, things he called articles of
luxury by which one recognised the man of refinement. He bought
a multi-coloured collar, spats, pale-green shirts, handkerchiefs of
floral-print silk and a long, carved meerschaum cigar-holder. He
also purchased strong scent because a rich scent is indispensable to
a civilised man.

Of everything offered him for sale, he took the most expensive,
and while making his choice the ducats tinkled the song of riches
in his trouser pocket.

The father-part spent his share on his favourite dishes, of which
there were many he had never tasted before, and the mother
provided herself with colourful dresses.

The king had pleasure from his money.

De Man said to him: 'It's a pity that there are so few patrons of
the arts, for artists such as I are a rarity. It's a disgrace that I cannot
always sit on velvet.'

The mother whispered: 'I also bought a saut-de-lit of Brussels
lace. . .' and in her eyes the king read all-promising gratitude.

The lover-parts did not speak but ate chocolates from one
another's lips.

The artistes spent their day relishing their suddenly acquired
luxury and made their way to the theatre, singing joyfully.

In the dressing room where he, too, had been decked out, the
king saw how Karel de Man made himself unrecognisable. The
artist stuck the same beard that he had worn to his face; with the
same crown he adorned his hair, and he pinned the same red cloths
to his shoulders in which the king had moved about the previous
night.

Once again the hall was full, for it had been made known in the
town that the star himself would now play his role.

'Of course,' spoke he when they came to tell him of the large
influx, 'how could it possibly be otherwise?'

The father-part sang a jolly ditty and the mother, enchanting in
her new lace underwear, came to ask the king whether a freshly bought posy of roses in her hair honestly didn't look peculiar.

At the stroke of eight the curtain went up.

The king was sitting in one of the last rows of the stalls, which
were full to bursting, and he had to crane his neck in order to see
the stage.

Once again, the lovers spoke intensely of marriage and faithfulness, the father arrived to make his clod-hopper comments and the
tender mother wept so touchingly that the audience was much
moved.

Tension mounted as the moment of the king's appearance approached.

'Oh, behold: the king,' cried suddenly the mother-part and at
that moment the star stepped out from the gloom.

It was an impressive moment.

Calmly, he proceeded forwards, lips clenched.

'Odious creatures is what you've got to say,' thought the king.
'He's not saying anything; drink has put him off his stroke! He has
forgotten his part.'

But a moment later he understood why the artist had kept
silent.

He allowed the audience to complete their jubilations, did not
bow, made no move, but waited, his face a tense mask.

Then, in the silence that followed the impudent clamour, the
tightly clenched lips suddenly tore apart. The words 'Odious
creatures!' he cried out with mighty roar and his eyes glinted
wildly.

Then it went quiet again.

The king bent far forwards. His gaze burned on to the king of
the stage, he kept his eyes wide open and he cupped his hands to
his ears.

He saw Karel de Man's wrath mount, heard the slow swelling of
his voice to a roar, followed with eager eyes the broad gestures,
saw the gathering of the faded, red cloths that looked in the
distance like velvet wings, shook his head in time with the king's
thudding paces and trembled at the sight of his glittering pupils.

The actor had turned into an entirely different being.

His voice sounded rich and dark, his words were of a different
construction than in ordinary life.

He did not say single is but rolled them instead, and of the n's
he did not forget a single one. The r-become-r's gave a special
expansiveness to the words, it rendered them more difficult to say and by this an effect was achieved as if each syllable had been
carefully considered.

The s's hissed into the auditorium, the T had a sharp, penetrating
sound. The 'a' sped forth from a wide-open mouth and for the
letter 'o' he pursed his lips to a little tube.

The king repeated the words after him and attempted to imitate
the facial gymnastics, but a young lady sitting next to him forbade
it in an angry voice.

The audience sat listening with bated breath.

The king saw how the monarch became steadily more angry on
stage. At first, it was only his voice providing the anger, but in
due course everything about his body began to betray his unbridled
temper. The eyebrows joined and parted brusquely; the nostrils
billowed out as though they were elastic; the lips shrank, rounded,
tensed; the chin hopped forward and cowered, while the twinkling
fingers interpreted the fierce rushes of emotion. The cloak shrivelled, widened out, billowed and hung down straight as the sound
of the words demanded. The legs of the actor arched and stretched.
The feet moved rhythmically.