English, 21.01.2022 14:00 stinematesa
The Contest
by Arthur Conan Doyle (adapted excerpt)
The blue-clad player struck several chords upon his lyre, and then burst suddenly out into the "Ode of Nlobe," and Policles sat straight up on his
bench and gazed at the stage in amazement. The tune demanded a rapid transition from a low note to a high, and had been purposely chosen
for this reason. The low note was a grunting, a rumble, the deep discordant growling of an ill-conditioned dog. Then suddenly the singer threw
up his face, straightened his figure, rose upon his tiptoes, and with wagging head and scarlet cheeks emitted a howl. All the while the lyre
twanged and thrummed, sometimes in front of and sometimes behind the voice of the singer. But what amazed Policies most of all was the
effect of this performance upon the audience. Every Greek was a trained critic, and as unsparing in his hisses as he was lavish in his applause.
Many a singer far better than this absurd fop had been driven from the platform, but now, as the man stopped and wiped the abundant sweat
from his face, the whole assembly burst into a delirium of appreciation. The shepherd held his hands to his bursting head and felt that his
reason must be leaving him, for it was surely a dreadful musical nightmare, and he would wake soon and laugh at the remembrance. But no, the
figures were real, the faces were those of his neighbours, and the cheers which resounded in his ears were indeed from an audience which filled
the theatre of Olympia. The whole chorus was in full blast, the hummers humming, the shouters bellowing, the tappers hard at work upon the
benches, while every now and then came a musical cyclone of "Incomparable! Divinel" from the trained phalanx who Intoned their applause,
their united voices sweeping over the tumult as the drone of the wind dominates the roar of the sea. It was madness-Insufferable madness! If
this were allowed to pass, there was an end of all musical justice in Greece. Policles' conscience would not permit him to be still
. Standing upon
his bench with waving hands and up-raised voice, he protested with all the strength of his lungs against the mad Judgment of the audience.
Answers: 1
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The Contest
by Arthur Conan Doyle (adapted excerpt)
The blue-clad player struck several chor...
The blue-clad player struck several chor...
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