Twelfth Night Revels
The autumn term was drawing rapidly to a close and Christmas was near at
hand. The Literary branch of the Alliance had been particularly active
in preparing a number of the united Magazine, which was now at the
printer's, and was to be issued shortly before breaking-up day. The six
editresses who were responsible for its production had not found their
task a light one. The expense of printing had limited them to one
hundred pages, so many of their original plans had had to be curtailed.
After much consultation it was decided to allow each school fifteen
pages and two illustrations, either in line, or half-tone, the spaces
for which must be included in their portion. The remaining ten pages of
the magazine were to contain a leading article on the Alliance, and
special news, such as reports of the Eisteddfod and Exhibition, results
of cricket and hockey matches since last Easter, the work of the various
leagues and guilds, and announcements for the forthcoming season.
Rachel Hutton, the head girl of the High School, was voted general
editress, and appointed to write the leader and the various reports,
while each sub-editress was responsible for the portion allotted to her
school. The work did not sound very formidable, but when Laura Kirby, as
editress for St. Cyprian's, began to get her material together she
realized some of the thorns which beset the journalistic path. Fifteen
pages of print seemed a small allowance, and very limiting to the powers
of her contributors. She could almost have filled it on her own account.
She wished all the best talent of the school to be represented, and
tried to map out her space accordingly. It was most difficult, however,
to keep her literary stars within due bounds. Nora Farrar, the generally
acknowledged poet laureate of the College, had been put down for a short
poem of twelve lines, calculated exactly to fill half a page; but when
she handed in her manuscript the dismayed editress found that it
contained no less than seven verses.
"You'll have to cut some of it out," she suggested.
"Cut it short! Impossible! Why, it would spoil it entirely," protested
the poetess indignantly. "Can't some of the others shorten their things
instead?"
"No, indeed! They'd prefer to lengthen them."
"Well, look here, it will ruin my piece utterly if I have to chop out
the middle half of it."
"I'm very sorry, but it's got to be done, unless you'd rather write
another poem."
Laura found that every contributor committed the same mistake, and each
manuscript was apt to overflow its due number of words. The distracted
editress had to be very stern in marking out passages which she
considered were not strictly necessary, and insisting upon their
omission. It was so hard to persuade the budding authoresses that this
matter of space was one of real importance, and that they must not
exceed their allowance even by a single paragraph. Many were the
grumbles and protests, and as Laura was unfortunately not blessed with
too large a share of tact, the making of the magazine proved a rather
stormy business. The illustrations were another source of difficulty.
Freda Kingston brought a very pretty pen-and-ink sketch, over which she
had spent much time and trouble. She had drawn it the exact size it was
to appear in the magazine, and was highly annoyed when she was informed
that all drawings meant for reproduction must be on a scale half as
large again as they would eventually be printed, as they were minimized
in the process of making the blocks.
"I shall actually have to do it over again! Why didn't you tell me
before, and save me all this trouble?" she asked plaintively.
"I didn't know myself," groaned Laura. "I've only just found out how
illustrations are printed. By the by, you'll have to make all your lines
thicker, too, because those will be thinned down when it's diminished."
"I hope they won't spoil my sketch at the printing works, I want to keep
it afterwards."
"You'll probably get it back adorned with the impress of the
compositor's thumb in black ink! It'll be a chance for you if you want
to acquire skill in reading finger-marks, but it won't be an improvement
to your design, so you'd best prepare yourself for the worst."
In spite of all these minor troubles Laura managed in the end to arrange
her fifteen pages satisfactorily, and sent them off in triumph to the
general editress by the appointed day. The printer faithfully fulfilled
his part of the bargain, and delivered the copies in good time, so that
the magazines were ready for subscribers at the beginning of the last
week of the term. It had been impossible to afford anything very grand
in the way of a cover, so they had contented themselves with the title
_The Alliance Journal_, and the motto "Unitas superabit", which had been
chosen as the watchword of the League. Rachel Hutton had written a
really capital leading article as an introduction, and had contrived to
express a large number of ideas and suggestions in an extremely small
space. Each of the separate schools had contributed highly readable
matter, and of a very varied character, so that sonnets, lyrics, and
parodies, essays, detective stories, adventures, Nature notes, historic
dialogues, reminiscences of country rambles, recitations, serious and
comic, humorous episodes, and school titbits all found due place.
General opinion voted the magazine "ripping", and the editresses had the
proud consciousness of having for once given entire satisfaction to
their reading public, a distinction which editors in the real world of
journalism might well envy them.
The supreme attraction of the last week of the term was the united
dramatic performance that was to be given in aid of the Children's
Hospital. It had been no easy matter to find any piece in which six
schools could be represented without giving undue prominence to one or
other; but the Twelfth Night revels which had been chosen happily
allowed such a wide scope that each was able to undertake a separate
department of equal importance. The play was a general combination of a
number of old mediaeval festivities, and though it might be somewhat
irregular to mingle them, the whole made an excellent entertainment.
They were supposed to be acted on Twelfth Night, but as that date would
fall during the holidays, it was considered no anomaly to anticipate it,
and the event had been fixed for 20th December.
All the schools had been busy practising their parts, and none had
worked harder than St. Cyprian's. The special portion of the performance
which they had undertaken was the entrance of the King and Queen with
their Court, and their enthronement amid due rejoicings. The speeches to
be learnt were only short, but there was a very elaborate ceremonial to
be observed, a dance to be executed by courtiers, and two part-songs to
be sung, therefore many rehearsals were needed before it was perfected.
Lottie was indefatigable. She drilled the chorus, trained the dancers,
coached the speakers, arranged the costumes, and during rehearsals, at
any rate, was sometimes stage-manager, pianist, prompter, dancing
mistress, Lord Chamberlain, and principal boy, all combined. She herself
was to act King, and Rose Percival, a very pretty girl from IVA Form,
had been chosen as the Queen.
Mildred's orchestra was to play during the whole entertainment, so they
learnt the music for the songs, dances, and processions of all the
schools, also the opening and closing marches. Erica Newstead, Tessie
von Steinberg, and Althea Ledbury, the girls respectively from
Templeton, the Anglo-German and Newington Green, proved valuable
additions, and with their help the little band really sounded quite
effective. Elizabeth Chalmers's zealous conductorship had trained them
to play in good time, exactly together, and in excellent tune; and if
they could not attain to rivalling Professor Hoffmann's Students'
Orchestra, they were at least a very welcome augmentation to the musical
portion of the performance.
Mildred keenly enjoyed the rehearsals. It is always gratifying when
one's pet scheme turns out well, and as she had taken much trouble in
arranging the scores, she felt a pardonable pride in the success of her
work. She loved the music for its own sake, but she was also very
public-spirited, both on behalf of St. Cyprian's and the Alliance, and
glad to contribute her share for the common weal. The charity to which
the proceeds were to be sent was one that appealed to the schools. The
Kirkton Children's Hospital was a new institution that had only lately
been opened. Many of the girls had been taken to see it, had walked
through the bright sunny wards, and had noticed the little patients
wearing the red-flannel jackets that had been provided by their United
Needlecraft Guild. To help to raise funds to keep the cots occupied was
an object worth working for, and justified the original intention of the
Alliance to be not only an institution for mutual improvement, but to
render real aid to their poorer sisters in Kirkton.
The revels were to be held in the Kirkton Assembly Hall, though in a
much larger room than that devoted to the Art Exhibition. Tickets had
been sent to the various schools, and had sold so well that a good
audience was assured beforehand. The Mayoress of Kirkton was to be
present, and to bring her children, and several other prominent citizens
had also promised their support. As it was essentially a children's
entertainment it was decided to hold it in the afternoon, which would
greatly simplify the difficulty of arranging for the safe home-going of
the performers when it was over.
Twenty girls from St. Cyprian's were to take part, not counting the
orchestra, and these were the heroines of the hour at the College. Their
dress rehearsal was viewed and approved by a school audience, and the
deepest interest taken in their costumes. Many of the details of these
were lent for the occasion. There had been dramatic entertainments
before at St. Cyprian's, so some of the ex-performers had various
properties laid by at home, which proved of valuable assistance to the
general effect. Clare Verrall, who had once been the ambassador in
"Cinderella", was able to lend her gorgeous trumpet with its silken
hangings to Agnes White, who was to act herald. Bess Harrison, who years
ago had been one of the "Princes in the Tower", was delighted to find
that her velvet doublet and silken hose would exactly fit Lucy Stearne,
who made a pretty page. Freda Kingston's artistic skill was
requisitioned to provide crowns for the King and Queen, and with
cardboard, gilt paper, and cracker jewels she manufactured quite a
magnificent regalia. Ivy Linthwaite prepared the Elizabethan ruffs of
the courtiers, and stencilled heraldic devices on various banners which
were to be used; and as many other girls were ready to contribute
beads, knots of ribbon, paste shoe buckles, ornaments for the hair, lace
ruffles, and other accessories useful in stage toilets, St. Cyprian's
congratulated itself that it would be able to make a brave show.
The six companies of performers went early to the Exchange Assembly
Hall, each school in charge of a mistress. The arrangements had been
well made, so that there was no confusion over the dressing, though much
fun went on behind the scenes. The members of the Alliance had met so
often for various functions that they began to know one another, and to
exchange greetings almost like old friends. Though each was a stanch
supporter of her own school, they were always ready to combine for a
general object, and drop any rivalries for the moment. So St. Cyprian's
and Templeton girls might be seen chatting about hockey, and Newington
Green discussing the magazine with the Anglo-German, and a general
_entente cordiale_ reigned supreme.
The members of the orchestra had come in white dresses, and gave quite a
festive appearance to the room as they took their places and commenced
the overture. Templeton was first on the programme, and opened the
proceedings with a procession. Their players were dressed as boys and
girls in Old English costume, the former in smock-frocks, large felt
hats adorned with bunches of cowslips, and knees tied with knots of gay
ribbons; the latter in low-cut dresses, muslin cross-overs, mob-caps and
mittens, so that the whole looked exactly as if they had stepped out of
a Kate Greenaway picture-book. To celebrate the season they sang a
Christmas carol, and then proceeded to give a charming and elaborate
exhibition of morris-dancing. They had been carefully drilled, and went
through the most intricate steps without a hitch, waving their sprigs of
holly, coloured handkerchiefs, or ribbon-tipped wands, according to the
requirements of the measure. They sang well, and rendered all their
choruses crisply and in exact accordance with the actions of the dances.
With the orchestra to augment the music the effect was most gay, and
gave a vivid impression of the Merrie England of former days.
Templeton was succeeded by Newington Green, which had taken up a totally
different line. It had concentrated its energies on its younger members,
and its first item was a dance of fairies and elves by small girls of
nine or ten years of age. They had been selected with a view to their
appearance. The fairies were all blue-eyed and fair-haired, and in their
thin gauzy robes looked true gossamer sprites, as light as air. Their
little feet tripped about as if scarcely touching the stage, and they
left a general impression among the audience that they were of such
sylph-like and ethereal composition that it was almost possible to see
through them. Their partners, the elves, were all brunettes, and wore
pale-green tights and helmets made to represent big bluebells. Both they
and their sister fairies carried long garlands of flowers, which they
used in the performance of their dance, now holding them aloft, now
waving them to and fro, and now joining them in a floral chain to link
the sprites together. The songs chosen were: "The Fairy Pipers", and
"The Horns of Elfland", and Mildred had contrived so admirably to
arrange the melodies with pizzicato passages on the violins that the
ring of the little magic pipes and horns was unmistakable, and the
audience listened almost spellbound to the fairy music.
When the pretty scene was over, it was rivalled by another of equal
interest. As the fairies and elves danced off the stage, a troupe of
butterflies flitted on instead. Their costumes had been prepared by the
Newington Green art mistress and her best pupils. They were of thin
butter muslin, made extremely full from the neck, and with a thin piece
of bamboo stitched down the length of the skirt under each arm. When
these bamboos were seized at the bottom, and raised above the level of
the head, the skirt extended so as to give an exact impression of wings.
All the dresses had been painted with the characteristic markings of
certain butterflies, and as their owners gently waved them about, it
seemed as if Fritillaries, Tortoiseshells, Purple Emperors,
Swallow-tails, Camberwell Beauties, Painted Ladies, Red Admirals, and
Peacocks were holding carnival together upon the stage. They danced a
charming measure, twisting and turning so as to display the splendour of
their wings, and winding in and out as if flitting about among the
flowers. Each girl had a helmet contrived to represent a butterfly's
head, with long antennae and large round eyes, which further enhanced the
insect effect, and wore long brown stockings drawn over sandals, giving
a far more characteristic effect than shoes. The music was dainty and
appropriate, and after responding to a vigorous encore, the butterflies
flitted away, having covered Newington Green with glory.
It was now the turn of St. Cyprian's. Their chief feature was the
grandeur of their procession, so an opening march announced their
advent. They filed on to the stage with slow and stately steps, in all
the pomp and majesty which they had been able to get together. First
came the heralds, magnificent creatures in silk and velvet, holding long
trumpets from which hung emblazoned banners; then my Lord Chamberlain,
in flowered robe and long cloak, bearing his wand of office, and
ushering in with much ceremony the King and Queen. Lottie really looked
very fine in her gold-embroidered doublet, crimson cloak, long silk
stockings, and magnificent crown; and Rose Percival, in pearl-trimmed
white satin, with a mock-diamond necklace, her long flaxen hair arranged
to fall over her shoulders below her waist, and her pretty face
surmounted by her tiara, was regal enough to rival the monarchs of
story-book fame. Their Court was not behind in gorgeousness. The
gentlemen-in-waiting looked true cavaliers with their curled lovelocks,
lace ruffles, and plumed hats, and the ladies outvied them in the
gayness of their colours and the elaboration of their ruffs.
In this part of the revels there were a few speeches; the King and Queen
were enthroned, songs were sung, and an old-fashioned dance was
performed by the courtiers, such as might have taken place at some
pageant of the fifteenth century. At its conclusion, instead of retiring
from the platform, the royalties kept their thrones, and their maids of
honour and gentlemen-in-waiting grouped themselves picturesquely on
either side. They were to act stage audience for the mummers who came
to play before the Court. This important department of the
entertainment had been undertaken by the High School, which had risen
nobly to the occasion. First came St. George of England, St. Andrew of
Scotland, St. Patrick of Ireland, and St. David of Wales, all arrayed as
knights in armour and all mounted on hobby-horses. They wore surcoats
emblazoned with their countries' coats of arms, and carried pikes and
shields; and with the permission of the King and Queen they engaged in a
spirited tournament, making their hobbies prance about with fiery zeal,
and dealing resounding blows on their pasteboard armour. But their
internal rivalries were soon put an end to by the entrance of a common
enemy--a huge and terrific green dragon, a scaly monster with horrible
jaws and businesslike talons with which it suggestively clawed the air.
It immediately made for its opponents, and there followed a grand scene
of dodging, scuffling, and pursuing before the fabulous beast was
finally subdued and bound in chains.
A jester in motley costume, with hood and bauble, was a special feature
of the mummers, and provided immense fun as he made his jokes and plied
his comic antics upon the other characters, belabouring John Bull with
his bladder, rallying the doctor on the virtues of his pills, and
tripping up the constable with the easy mirth of the clown in an
old-fashioned pantomime. Quite out of breath with their violent
exertions, the various champions ranged themselves on the steps of the
throne, to give the audience the pleasure of beholding them during the
performance of the next item on the programme.
Marston Grove School was in no way behind the others. To make a variety,
it had provided a series of "Songs in Character", mostly chosen from
nursery rhymes. "Where are you going to, my pretty maid?" was acted with
lifelike coyness by a charming country wench swinging her milk can; Jack
and Jill came together, bearing their pail between them; little Miss
Muffet fled in a panic from the onslaught of a gigantic spider; six
pretty innocents danced round a mulberry bush; Bo-Peep lamented the loss
of her sheep; and Wee Willie Winkie stole about in his night-gown,
blowing sand into the eyes of his companions. The costumes were
charming, and each little scene was perfect in itself.
The Anglo-German, the last on the programme, had arranged a totally
different display as a final effect. A large grandfather's clock stood
at the back of the platform, and had before appeared only a part of the
stage scenery. The space in front of this was now cleared, and after an
appropriate speech from the King, and a song from the mummers, all
waited with close attention while the chimes rang out and the hour was
tolled. As the last stroke died away, the door of the clock-case opened,
and out trooped, one after another, a procession of wonderful
personages. First came old Father Time, with scythe and hour-glass, and
behind him the months of the year, from snowy January to rosy June,
corn-crowned October and holly-decked December. Then followed many a
well-known nursery character--Little Red Riding Hood, Puss in Boots,
Bluebeard, Aladdin, Hop o' my Thumb, the Three Bears, Cinderella, Jack
the Giant Killer, Beauty and the Beast, Catskin, the Snow Queen,
Rumpelstiltskin, Robinson Crusoe, Dick Whittington, and Goody Two-Shoes.
Ranging themselves at the front of the stage, they performed a pretty
series of German action-songs, very appropriate to the season, and
ending in compliments to the audience. As a climax to the whole, Father
Christmas made his appearance, bearing in his arms the New Year (a
darling three-year-old baby, borrowed for the occasion), and in a little
speech thanked everybody for coming to the performance, and gave hearty
good wishes to all for the coming holidays. With one final parade round
the stage the pageant retired. For the last time the butterflies
flitted, the fairies tripped, the dragon roared, and the jester swung
his bladder; then amid a storm of clapping and cheering, headed by
Father Time and with Father Christmas at the rear, the long procession
wound itself off the platform and behind the scenes, to the
accompaniment of sprightly music from the band.
"Your orchestra really was a great addition, Mildred," said Mrs. Graham
that evening. "It kept everybody together, and made the whole affair
sound most gay."
"I'm glad you say so! I think it was worth the trouble. We had a
glorious afternoon, and every one of the six schools enjoyed it
equally," said Mildred. "Do you know what we did in the dressing-room
afterwards? We all joined hands in one big circle and sang 'Auld lang
syne', and shouted 'Hip, hip, hip, hooray!' for the Alliance."