amateur and professional, must be secured from the author,
care of the New York Drama League, 7 East 42 Street, New
York.]
Stark Young, dramatist and critic, the author of _The Twilight Saint_,
was born in Como, Mississippi, on October 11, 1881. He was graduated
from the university of his native state and a year later took his
master's degree at Columbia University. From 1907 to 1915 he taught at
the University of Texas, and from 1915 to 1921 he was professor of
English at Amherst College. His travels have taken him to Greece, and
to Spain, and to Italy where he has lingered, making a special study
of the native drama.
The text of _The Twilight Saint_ has undergone revision by the author
since its first appearance. It was acted in 1918 with _Madretta_,
another of the author's plays, at the dramatic school of the Carnegie
Institute of Technology in Pittsburgh, under the direction of Thomas
Wood Stevens. The author writes: "The only instruction I should like
to propose is that the actor of St. Francis keep him very simple, not
get him moralizing and long-faced. In Egan's book on St. Francis[49]
there is a picture of the preaching to the birds in which Boutet de
Monvel shows a Tuscan type that is my idea of the man simplified." The
play itself suggests charming by-ways of literature that lead in one
direction perhaps to Hewlett's _Earthwork Out of Tuscany_ and
Josephine Preston Peabody's _The Wolf of Gubbio_, and in another
possibly to the Saint's own _Little Flowers_, and _Canticle to the
Sun_.
[Footnote 49: Maurice F. Egan, _Everybody's St. Francis_,
with pictures by M. Boutet de Monvel, New York, 1912.]
THE TWILIGHT SAINT
CHARACTERS
GUIDO, _the husband, a young poet._
LISETTA, _his wife._
PIA, _a neighbor woman._
ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI.
_In the year 1215 A.D._
_A room in GUIDO's house, on a hillside near Bevagna. It is a poor
apartment, clumsily kept. On your left near the front is a bed; on the
floor by the bed lie scattered pages of manuscript. A table littered
with manuscripts and crockery stands against the back wall of the room
to the right. On the right hand wall is a big fireplace with copper
vessels and brass. A bench sits by the fireplace and several stools
about the room. On the stone flags two sheepskins are spread._
_Through the open door in the middle of the back wall rises the slope
of a hill, green with spring and starred with flowers. A stream is
visible through the grass and the drowsy sound of the water fills the
air. The late yellow sunlight falls through a window over the bed like
gilding and floods the hill without._
_LISETTA lies on the bed, still, her eyes closed. PIA sits on the
ingle bench, halfway in the great fireplace, shelling peas. She is a
little peasant woman with a kerchief on her head and a wrinkled face
as brown as a nut._
_GUIDO sits at the table, his face to the wall, his chin on his palm._
PIA.
Guido, Guido, thou hast not spoke this hour,
Nor read one word nor written aught. Dear Lord,
The lion on the palace at Assisi
Sits not more still in stone! Guido, look thou!
GUIDO [_turning round without looking at her_].
Yes, old Pia, good neighbor.
PIA.
Yes, old Pia! Guido, grieve not so much,
Lisetta will be well before the spring
Comes round again.
GUIDO.
Yes, Lisetta will be well perhaps. God grant!
PIA.
Well, what then?
GUIDO.
'Tis not only of her I think, Pia, here am I
Shut in this house from month to month a nurse;
Here lies she sick, this child, and may not stir;
And I, lacking due means to hire, must serve
The house; while my best self, my soul, my art,
Rust. My soul is scorched with holy thirst,
My temples throb, my veins run fire; but yet,
For all my dim distress and vague desire,
No word, no single song, no verse, has come--
O Blessed God!--stifled with creature needs,
And with necessity about my throat!
PIA.
Thy corner is too hot, the glaring sun
Is yet on the wall.
GUIDO.
'Tis not that sun that maddens me, O Pia!
Can you not see me shrunk? Have you not heard
That other Guido of Perugia
How he is grown? How lately at the feast
That Ugolino, the great cardinal,
Spread at Assisi Easter night, Guido
Read certain of his verses and declaimed
Pages of cursed sonnets to the guests.
PIA.
Young Guido of Perugia, thy friend?
GUIDO.
Yea. And when he ended, came the Duke
Down from the dais to kiss that Guido's hand
Humbly, and said that poesy was king.
PIA.
Madonna, kissed by the Duke!
GUIDO.
And I, O God, I might have honor too
Could I but break this prison where I drudge!
PIA.
Speak low, her sleep is light. Her road is hard
As well as thine. For all this year, since thou
Didst bring her to Rieto here to us,
Hath she lain on her bed, broken with pain,
This child that is thy wife and loveth thee.
GUIDO.
Aye, yes, 'tis true, she loveth me, she loveth me,
And I love her. 'Tis worse--add grief to care,
And Poesy fares worse.
PIA.
And she is grown most pale and still of late.
GUIDO.
Look, Pia, how she lieth there like death,
That far-off patience on her face. Now, now,
Surely I needs must make a song! And yet
I may not; ashes and floor-sweeping clog
My soul within me!
PIA.
Nay, let thy dreams pass. Look thou, how pale!
Dear Lord, how blue her little veins do shine!
GUIDO.
Thou art most kind, good neighbor, to come here
Helping our house. And it is very strange
That when we are so kind we cannot know
The heart also. For in my soul I hear
A bell summoning me always--
PIA.
If I should stew in milk the peas, maybe--
Do you think the child would eat it?
GUIDO.
For thy world is not my world, kind old friend.
PIA.
Why do you not walk, Guido, for a while,
I have an hour yet.
GUIDO.
Then I will go, Pia. But not for long,
I will come back soon enough to my chores, be sure;
Mine is a short tether.
[_He goes out. LISETTA on the bed opens her eyes._]
LISETTA.
Pia.
PIA.
Yes, dear child.
LISETTA.
Pia, turn my pillow, I am stifled.
PIA.
There! Thou hast slept well?
LISETTA.
I have not slept.
PIA.
Holy Virgin, thou hast not slept!
LISETTA.
Pia, think you I did not know? This month
I scarce have slept for thinking on his lot.
I read his fighting soul. Where are his songs,
The great renown that waited him? Down, down,
Struck by the self-same hand that shattered me.
I listen night on night and hear him moan
In his sleep--
PIA.
It is his love for thee, Lisetta.
LISETTA.
The padre from the village hemmed and said
That God had sent me and my sickness here
For Guido's cross to bear, his scourge. They thought
I slept--
PIA.
Thou hast dreamed this, he loveth thee, Lisetta.
LISETTA.
Yea, loveth me somewhat but glory more.
And I would have it so. O Mother of God,
When wilt thou send me death? O Blessed Mother,
I have lain so still!
PIA.
Beware, Lisetta, tempt not God!
LISETTA.
Death is the sister of all them that weep, Pia.
PIA.
Child, child, try thou to sleep.
LISETTA.
For thy sake will I try.
PIA.
Aye, sleep now. I will smooth thy bed.
[_PIA begins to draw up the covers smooth. She stops suddenly
to listen._]
Hist!
LISETTA.
What, good Pia?
PIA.
Footsteps. Look, it is a monk.
[_FRANCIS OF ASSISI comes to the door._]
FRANCIS.
I have not eaten food this day. Hast thou
Somewhat that I may eat?
PIA.
Alas, poor brother, sit thee here; there's bread
And cheese and lentils, eat thy store. Poor 'tis,
But given in His name.
FRANCIS.
I will eat then and bless thee.
PIA.
He taketh but a crust!
FRANCIS.
It is enough. He that hath eaten long
The bread of the heart hath little hunger in him.
PIA.
Sit thou and rest, poor soul.
FRANCIS.
Nay, I must go on. My daughter, child,
Thou sleepest not for all thy lowered lids.
Tears quiver on thy lashes, hast thou pain?
LISETTA.
The tears of women even in dreams may fall,
Good brother. Wilt thou not bide?
FRANCIS.
I must fare on.
LISETTA.
Aye, aye, the world lies open to thy hand,
But unto me this twelvemonth is a death.
The flesh is dead, and dying lies my soul,
Shrunk like a flower in my fevered hand.
FRANCIS [_he goes over and stands beside the bed_].
My dear.
LISETTA.
I may not see the stars rise on the hills,
Nor tend the flocks at even, nor rise to do
Aught of the small sweet round of duties owed
To him I love; but lie a burden to him,
Calling on death who heareth not.
FRANCIS.
My life hath given me words for thee to hear.
LISETTA.
Surely thy life is peace.
FRANCIS.
There is a life larger than life, that dwells
Invisible from all; whose lack alone
Is death. There in thy soul the stars may rise,
And at the even the gentle thoughts return
To flock the quiet pastures of the mind;
And in the large heart love is all thou owest
For service unto God and thy Beloved.
LISETTA.
Little Brother!
FRANCIS.
May you have God's peace, dear friends. Farewell.
[_He goes out. PIA stands a moment wiping her eyes, then returns to
shelling the peas. There is a silence for a while._]
PIA.
Why dost thou look so long upon the door?
LISETTA.
Pia, the spring smiles on the tender grass,
Surely the sun is brighter where he stood.
PIA.
'Tis a glaring sun for twilight.
LISETTA.
Pia, 'twill be the gentlest of all eves.
Surely God sent the brother for my need,
To give His peace.
PIA.
Aye, and my old heart ripens at his words
Like apples in the sun. 'Tis a sweet monk.
LISETTA.
Who is he, think you?
PIA.
One of the Little Poor Men, by his brown.
They are too thin, these brothers, and do lack
Stomach for life. [_She returns to the peas._] Mark, oh, 'tis merry now
To see the little beggars from their pods
Popping like schoolboys from their shoes in spring!
The season hath been so fine and dry this year
My peas are smaller and must have more work.
Well, well, labor is good, and things made scarce
Are better loved.
LISETTA.
Pia, thou art a good woman.
PIA.
Child, do not make me cry. 'Tis thy pure heart
Deceives thee. Stubborn I am and full of sloth,
And a wicked old thing.
LISETTA.
I would not grieve thee. Pia, 'twas my love
That sees thy goodness better than thyself.
PIA [_hanging the kettle of peas over the coals_].
Lisetta, I see the sky at the chimney top.
[_PIA begins to sing in her sweet, old, cracked voice, as she stirs
the pot_:]
_Firefly, firefly, come from the shadows,
Twilight is falling over the meadows,
Burn, little garden lamps, flicker and shimmer,
Shine, little meadow stars, twinkle and glimmer.
Firefly, firefly, shine, shine!_
LISETTA.
Pia.
PIA.
Yes.
LISETTA.
Pia, come near me here. [_PIA kneels by the bed._] Can you not see
How much I love? If I could only speak
To him or he to me, Guido, my love!
PIA.
Surely he is beside thee often.
LISETTA.
His hand is near, but not his heart.
PIA.
Nay, child, 'tis Guido's way. He speaks but little.
When I speak to him look what he says,
"Yes, good Pia," 'tis not much.
LISETTA.
Aye, tell me not. On winter nights I lay
Hearing the tree limbs rattle there like hail,
And from the corner eaves the dropping rain
Like big dogs lapping all about--and he
Spoke not to me. He sat beside his taper
But never a line wrote down. Once I had words,
Bright dreams, that shone through him, the same fire shone
Through both, his songs were mine!
PIA.
Yes, thine--rest thee, rest thee!
LISETTA.
But more his, Pia, more his!
PIA.
Aye, his. Wilt thou not eat the broth?
LISETTA.
Not now, good Pia, 'tis not for food I die.
'Tis not for food.
PIA.
Yet thou must eat.
LISETTA.
Wilt thou not read one song of these to me?
PIA.
Close then thine eyes and rest.
[_LISETTA closes her eyes. A shepherd's pipe far-off and faint begins
to play; from this on to the end of the play you can hear the
shepherd's pipe. PIA takes up at random a sheet of the manuscripts.
She sighs a great sigh, and begins to mimic LISETTA's voice._]
THE BALLAD OF THE RUNNING WATER
O music locked amid the stones,
Beside the--amid the--
LISETTA.
Read on--and thou hast told me day by day
Thou couldst not read.
PIA.
I read from hearing thee from day to day
Repeat the verses.
LISETTA.
Fie! Give them to me here.
[_She takes the paper and holds it in her hands on her breast, and
reads without looking at it._]
_O music locked amid the stones,
My love hath spoken like to thee,_
Pia, think you--Pia, do you not hear
The mowers and the reapers in the fields
Singing the evening song, and the twilight pipes?
The twilight is the hour when hearts break!
How many lonely twilights will there be
Ere God will spare me?
PIA [_kneeling_].
Hush, child, hush, darling!
[_LISETTA turns her face to the window by the bed. PIA strokes her
hand and sings softly:_]
_Firefly, firefly, come from the shadows--_
There!--he is coming now, I hear his steps
Upon the gravel road. Good-night, sweet child,
I'll get me home.
LISETTA.
Pia, good-night once more.
[_PIA slips away. GUIDO enters softly. The twilight is gone and the
moon falls through the window over the bed. The hill outside is bright
with moonlight._]
GUIDO [_softly_].
Asleep, Lisetta?
LISETTA.
Guido! Ah, I have need of naught, Guido.
Thou needst not leave yet the pleasant air.
GUIDO.
Lisetta, my love, I have been long from thee.
LISETTA.
Let not that trouble thee, my needs are few,
And Pia is most kind.
GUIDO.
So little I may do.
LISETTA.
Thou hast already served to weariness.
[_He kneels beside her bed._]
GUIDO.
My love, I have been long from thee, but now
I will not leave thee any more. Oh, God,
Let these kisses tell my heart to her.
LISETTA.
Guido, my love, perhaps I dream of thee!
Perhaps God sends a dream to solace me.
GUIDO.
Along the stream I went and where it crossed
Bevagna road--where the chestnut grows, thou knowest--
Lisetta, I saw him.
LISETTA.
Yes, yes, I know, whom sawest thou?
GUIDO.
The brother, Francis of Assisi.
LISETTA.
Guido, sawest thou him?
GUIDO.
Aye, him. There had he stopped to rest, being spent;
And round him came the birds, beating their wings
Upon his cloak and lighting on his arm.
I saw him smile on them and heard him speak!
"My brother birds, little brothers, ye should love God
Who gave you your wings and your bright songs and spread
The soft air for you." He stroked their necks
And blessed them. And then I saw his eyes.
"Father," I cried, "speak thou to me, I faint
Beside my way!"
LISETTA.
Aye, and he said? Guido, what said he?
GUIDO.
"Thou art as one that lieth at the gate
Of Paradise and entereth not. For God
Hath given thee thy soul for its own life,
And not for glory among men."
LISETTA.
Guido!
GUIDO.
Lisetta, from his kind eyes I drank, and knew
How God had magnified my soul through him,
And sent me peace. And I returned to thee;
For here in thee have I my glory.
LISETTA.
Guido, the old spring comes back again. And now
I may speak. Guido, look through my window vines there
Where the stars rise. O Love, I have not slept
For lacking thee. And often have I seen
The moonlight lie like sleep upon the hill,
And in the garden of the sky the moon
Drift like a blown rose, Guido, and yet
I might not speak.
GUIDO.
Thou art my saint and shrine!
LISETTA.
Now shall my dream become thy song again,
And the long twilight be more sweet, Guido!
GUIDO.
I pray thee rest thee now and sleep. Good-night.
My full heart breaks in song; and I will sit
Hearing the blessed saints within my soul,
And will not stir from thee lest thou shouldst wake
When I might not be near to serve thy need.
[_The shepherd pipe far-off and faint is heard playing._]
[THE CURTAIN.]
THE MASQUE OF THE TWO STRANGERS[50]
By LADY ALIX EGERTON
[Footnote 50: Reprinted by special arrangement with Gowans &
Gray. Ltd., Glasgow. The acting rights are reserved.]
[Illustration: Costumes for _The Masque of the Two Strangers_ designed
at the Washington Irving High School.]
Between the Lady Alice Egerton, who acted in the masque of _Comus_,
which Milton composed for presentation before John, earl of
Bridgewater, then President of Wales, and the Lady Alix Egerton,
author of _The Masque of the Two Strangers_, lie three hundred years;
but throughout these centuries the descendants of the first earl of
Bridgewater have cherished consistently the great traditions of
English literature. The family has owned for many generations the
Ellesmere Chaucer and the Bridgewater manuscript of _Comus_, both of
which have recently been edited by the twentieth century Lady Alix
Egerton.
Her _The Masque of the Two Strangers_ here reprinted was given at the
Washington Irving High School in March, 1921. The designs for the
costumes used in this production are here illustrated. The following
notes will help the reader to reconstruct the costumes from the
pictures:
I. _The Princess_
White soft material.
Spangled trimming.
Mantle of blue.
Veil of blue net.
Hennin (head dress) in silver.
II. _Hope_
Glass ball.
Lavender under slip.
Veil of rose pink.
III. _Joy_
Draping of orange yellow.
Flowers of various colors.
Vermilion scarf.
IV. _Love_
Long, full cape of deep purple; cowl falling back.
Cerise costume.
Silver surcoat and helmet.
V. _Laughter_
Yellow and black.
Trimming of bells.
VI. _Poetry_
Light green with silver; paper design on border.
VII. _Song_
Robe dyed in rainbow hues.
Silver wings.
VIII. _Dance_
Vermilion.
IX. _Power_
Bright blue.
Gems.
Gilt headpiece jeweled.
Mantle and sash of purple.
X. _Fame_
Robe of deep green.
Gold border.
Laurel leaves on gold crown.
XI. _Riches_
Knight's close-fitting short coat of henna.
(Flannel dyed to represent felt or leather.)
Gold lacings; gold paper design on coat; gold and henna helmet.
XII. _Service_
Soft yellow shaded to brown at bottom of skirt and sleeves.
Front panel of dark green forming part of head drapery.
XIII. _Sorrow_
Gray.
XIV. _Herald_
Dark red and gold.
_PROLOGUE_
[_Enter a JESTER._]
Good people, of your gentle courtesy,
I pray your patience, now, and list to me.
Before you I will here present to-day
A story told in the medieval way.
Now sad--now merry--here and there a song,
While through it all a meaning runs along.
On this side is the Court of Youth where dwells
A Princess who is held by magic spells.
On that is the vast Otherworld from whence
The great Immortals come for her defense.
Betwixt the greater and the lesser Power,
That duel that goes on from hour to hour
Throughout the ages, I would have you see
Depicted in this passing phantasy.
[_Music of Masque begins._]
The players come and I had best away;
I'll come back afterwards and end my say.
THE MASQUE OF THE TWO STRANGERS[51]
[Footnote 51: I am indebted to Miss Italia Conti for the
original scenario of the Masque, and to former Editors of
_Vanity Fair_ and _The Crown_ for permission to reprint the
two songs which were published in their journals.--ALIX
EGERTON.]
CHARACTERS
JOY.
LAUGHTER.
SONG.
DANCE.
SERVICE.
POETRY.
HOPE.
JOY.
PRINCESS DOUCE-COEUR.
SORROW.
FAME.
RICHES.
POWER.
LOVE.
_JOY and LAUGHTER run in laughing, chase each other round the stage
and pelt each other with flowers._
LAUGHTER [_flinging herself on the ground, breathless_].
Ah, it is good to run and laugh again.
I am so weary of these somber days.
JOY.
And I of sitting silent in the house.
We used before to have such merry games,
Now Douce-coeur will not even smile.
LAUGHTER [_mysteriously_].
She says that she will never laugh again.
JOY.
And when I called to her to come and play
At hide-and-seek down in the rose-garden,
She said her playing days were over now.
LAUGHTER.
It seems so strange. Only a while ago
We played at ball across the laurel hedge,
And when the ball fell in the fountain-court
And rolled into the water, floating out
To where the lilies lay half closed in sleep,
'Twas she who went in barefoot, with her dress
Kilted above her knees, and laughed to feel
The flicking of the golden fishes' tails.
She said her pink toes looked like coral shells,
And splashed the water just to see it shine
Like diamonds in the sun upon my hair.
A while ago she was a child with us.
JOY [_sighs_].
Laughter, I like not living at the Court. [_Starting._]
Someone is coming.
[_They run and hide behind a seat. SONG enters, humming to herself and
twisting flowers into a garland. JOY and LAUGHTER spring out upon her
and catch hold of her hands one on each side._]
LAUGHTER. Why, 'tis only Song.
For three days now we have not heard thy voice.
SONG.
No, Douce-coeur says life is too sad for songs.
Yet music is a gift of the high gods
And like the birds I sing or I must die.
JOY [_coaxingly_].
Sing us a ballad while we are alone.
Old Service is asleep beside the well
And will not hear thee.
SONG [_sitting on the seat_].
Well, what shall I sing?
How would you like "All on an April Day?"
JOY [_clapping her hands_].
About the knight who rode to Amiens Town?
LAUGHTER.
Then will we sing the refrain, Joy and I.
SONG [_begins very softly, and, forgetting, sings louder to the end_].
_A lover rode to Amiens town
(All on an April day);
He looked not up, he looked not down
But fixed his gaze on Amiens town
(Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._
_The cuckoo sang above his head
(All on an April day);
The blossoming trees were white and red,
Yet still he never turned his head
(Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._
_The dappled grass with daisies strewn
(All on an April day)
Was trodden by his horse's shoon;
He heeded not those daisies strewn
(Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._
_He wore a ragged surcoat green
(All on an April day)
But no device thereon was seen.
Nor blazon on that surcoat green
(Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._
_He rode in by the Eastern Gate
(All on an April day);
Though poor and mean was his estate
Kings have gone through that Eastern Gate
(Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._
_He stood by the Cathedral door
(All on an April day)
And watched of ladies fair a score
Pass in through the Cathedral door
(Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._
_A knot of ribbon at his feet
(All on an April day)
And one swift smile, such radiance sweet
Fell with the ribbon at his feet
(Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._
_He hid the token in his breast
(All on an April day)
Yet to his lips full oft he prest
The ribbon hidden in his breast
(Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._
_A lover rode to Amiens town
(All on an April day),
A beggar wore a starry crown
And a King rode out of Amiens town
(Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._
[_After the 4th verse enter DANCE, who dances through the remaining
verses._]
[_Enter SERVICE hurriedly._]
SERVICE. How now, what noise is this? Thou knowest, Song, thy voice
may not be heard at all, and ye children too, ye will get sent away.
Sure, that ye will. Here am I sent packing off to seek for the Wise
Woman Poetry. The heralds too are up and down the land with
proclamations. Go in, go in; Douce-coeur is wandering with the Gray
Stranger in the garden, and when she comes, may want your company.
[_Enter POETRY._]
POETRY.
I am the mouthpiece of the Eternal Gods,
And in my voice, that down the ages rings,
Men hear the ceaseless heart-beats of the world.
Without me all that has been would have died
And lain forgotten in a silent grave.
The present echoes what I once have sung,
The future holds the secrets I have read.
SERVICE. Hail, and well met! I was but starting forth to seek thee.
Thou who hast the wisdom of all time mayst help us in our hour of
need; an evil spell has been cast about the Princess, and how it is to
be broken, none of us know.
POETRY.
Good Service, tell me all; for I presume,
Despite the tender care which through her life
Has shielded Douce-coeur like a ring of steel,
That to her side some foe has won his way
And dimmed the peaceful mirror of her soul.
SERVICE. Yea, truly, one evening as the sun was setting a woman clad
in long gray robes entered the Palace gates and meeting the Princess
on the terrace walk led her down among the cypresses. They sat long
together in the twilight and ever since Douce-coeur is changed. No
smile curves her lips, the sunlight is gone from her face, and she
goes always with veiled head, and sad unseeing eyes. I heard but now
her companions are to be sent away. Joy, Laughter, Song and Dance, all
to be banished. This is the Gray Woman's doing, but why, no man can
say.
POETRY.
The stranger in gray robes of whom ye speak
Is Sorrow's self, whose other name is Pain.
She comes, and when she comes none may resist.
Against her none have power to bar their gates.
Ye who have always cherished Douce-coeur
And guarded her from knowledge of the World,
Have left her ignorance a prey to pain.
Thus night has fallen on a tender heart
That never saw the shadows for the sun.
Queen Sorrow, who can hide the stars of heaven,
Has torn the golden veil from top to hem,
And in the outer darkness Douce-coeur stands,
Seeing no rift to tell of light eclipsed,
Knowing no key to all the mystery.