(saucily).
You looked at the clock only a minute ago, and I'm sure Abe's supper is
as easily seen as the clock is! Easier, too, if you happen to be
glancing that way. I wish that Nancy would hurry!
TOM
(as they seat themselves about fire).
And I wish that Abe would hurry. He must be trying for luck.
POLLY.
Luck?
TOM.
Yes, you know they say that rails split by moonlight bring folks good
fortune. Not that Abe needs good fortune--he's lucky at everything he
puts his hand to. He can shoulder an ax and swing it better than any
one I ever saw, and as for his books--there's no one who can beat him.
POLLY.
He's always at them--even after a hard day's work.
TOM.
There's nothing he won't read if he can get his hands on it, and at
spelling he's head of his class every time.
AMY
(amused).
You'd think he was a hero, Tom, the way you talk.
TOM
(eyes a-light).
Well, sometimes he does seem like a hero to me, he's so strong and
clever and kind. At school people are always coming to him with their
disputes, and out of school, too. Even the Indians respect his
knowledge. And with it all he can see a joke as soon as anybody, and
isn't a bit puffed up. And then I like him, because even though he's
quiet and it takes a long time for him to get angry, when he _does_ get
angry it's on the right side. I think some day he'll be a great lawyer.
Come, Amy, what do you think he'll be?
AMY
(mischievously).
Well, as you think he knows so much--almost as much as Mr. Andrew
Crawford--I think perhaps he'll be a teacher.
TOM.
What do you think he'll be, Polly?
POLLY
(absorbed in examining corn-popper, tongs, etc.).
I don't know. Oh, see! He's mended the tongs. I saw him working at it
the other day. (Facing about, laughing.) I'll tell you what I think
he'll be--he'll be a _mender_! (To Amy.) Look out, Amy, that's Abe's
precious snow-shovel. Dear knows why he has it out this early.
AMY.
Because paper is expensive, goosey. By the light of some pine cones he
can figure on this, and then scrape it off again.
TOM
(admiringly).
Nobody but Abe would think of such a thing. I tell you the day will
come when we'll be proud we knew him.
AMY
(gaily).
Bravo, Tom! You'll be making speeches soon, or lead in our next debate.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN
(speaking from outer doorway, ax on shoulder, a gaunt, rawboned,
kindly-eyed lad).
Who said _debate--?_
AMY
(jumping up with a burst of delighted laughter).
There he is now! (To Lincoln.) If any word would bring you, that one
would, I know!
POLLY.
Nancy isn't here. She said we were to wait. Go on with your supper,
Abe, and don't mind us. I know you're hungry.
LINCOLN.
Thank you, I will. (Puts by ax and goes towards table.) Hungry! I feel
half-starved! And my muscles are as stiff as boards. (Turns.) Here,
Tom, I'm a fine host--neglecting my guests! There's the corn-popper,
and (diving hand into cupboard and bringing out a bag) there's the
corn!
NANCY
(appearing in the outer door with Francois Durand, and little John
Henry).
And here's Nancy with a bag of salt, just in time. I'm glad you all
waited for me. Come to the fire, Francois.
FRANCOIS
(shyly to all, as they kindly make way for him).
Bon soir! Bon soir!
NANCY
(rattling on).
B-rrrrr! It's chilly. It's nice to be in by the fire. How's your
supper, Abe? I fixed it for you.
LINCOLN
(genially).
It's fine, Nancy, thank you. (Goes back to table and half-smiles,
dryly-humorous.) And the best thing about it is that there's enough of
it! (To John.) Well, John, how are you?
JOHN
(drawling, wide-eyed, childlike).
Did you see any _bears_ in the woods?
LINCOLN
(with a twinkle, solemnly imitating him).
No, I didn't see any bea-r-s in the woods; but I brought home some nuts
for you! (Gives them.)
[Francois, under pantomimic urging from the group around the fire, has
taken up his fiddle, tunes it, and from a mere ghost of an air breaks
into a gay tune. Little John Henry takes the corn-popper, swaying it in
time to the music, while the rest, with the exception of Lincoln, do a
step or so of an old-fashioned reel. Lincoln watches them as he eats.
John watches them also, to the detriment of the corn-popping.
NANCY
(pausing in dance, with little shriek of dismay).
Oh, mercy! The corn! I smell it burning!
ALL
(gathering about her, and thus hiding corn-popper from view of
audience).
Is it burnt? No! Yes! No! Oh, it's saved. (Lincoln, who has risen, goes
back to his supper.)
JOHN.
I didn't mean to!
NANCY
(relenting).
But when Francois plays the fiddle you can't think of anything else,
eh?
AMY
(as they group themselves in fire-glow).
Sit over here, Nancy. Isn't the corn splendid?
LINCOLN
(from where he is sitting).
Any news, Tom? How's the wolf-hunting getting on? Anybody got one?
TOM.
I heard in the store to-night that Hugh Foster had killed one. It may
be only a rumor. You're not fond of hunting, are you, Abe?
LINCOLN.
Oh, I try at it once in a while, Tom, but I'm not very keen. You boys
get more out of it than I do.
TOM.
Remember the raccoon hunt we had last summer?
LINCOLN.
Yes, I remember. (Facing about.) To tell you the truth, Tom, I don't
mind if things have to be killed outright; but I hate to see them in
cages. I like to see 'em _free_.
TOM.
I know you do, Abe.
POLLY
(merrily).
Oh, Abe, before you came we were all guessing----
LINCOLN.
Guessing?
POLLY
(nodding).
What you were going to be. Tom said you'd be a lawyer. Amy said you'd
be a great teacher, and I said you'd be a _mender_!
LINCOLN
(slowly).
A mender--! I never once thought of being a mender, Polly.
NANCY
(with a little cry).
Polly Prentice, look! Look what the time is! Ten minutes to eight!
We'll be late for the corn-husking.
LINCOLN
(surprised).
Corn-husking?
POLLY
(dancing about).
Didn't you know there was to be one? Oh, I thought we'd surprise you!
We're all going. You, too.
[Lincoln shakes his head.
POLLY
(pouting).
That means you think you have to study. Oh, Abe--!
NANCY
(aside).
Don't tease him, Polly. After we've called for Jason and Lucy we'll
come back this way--gracious! Look how the minutes are flying! We must
be starting. Where did I put my cloak? Oh, here it is! Hurry, Amy!
[They all dart out the door with every sign of haste, little John
following as fast as his legs can carry him. Sounds of laughter from
without, growing fainter.
LINCOLN
(to himself).
A corn-husking--!
[Shakes his head. Goes over and gets a book and stretches out in front
of fire. A pause.
NOCTAH
(quietly entering).
How!
LINCOLN
(turning).
How!
[Noctah, with the quiet of an accustomed visitor, sits on bench by
fire: pulls out a long pipe.
LINCOLN
(after a pause, looking up).
Supper?
NOCTAH,
No. Noctah only want to warm at fire. Like to watch Lincoln. Lincoln
get wisdom out of books.
LINCOLN
(ruefully).
Not so much as I'd like to, Noctah. The books are so few that it's just
learning by littles.
[Footnote: Lincoln's own words.]
NOCTAH.
Other people much talk. Lincoln heap silent: heap thinking. (Taps
forehead.) Other people try to cheat Indian. Lincoln heap honest.
LINCOLN
(twinkling).
Oh, come now, Noctah. I guess we're all pretty honest hereabout.
[A pause, during which Lincoln stares at the fire, above his book.
NOCTAH.
Lincoln look at fire. See visions of future.
LINCOLN.
There won't be any future if I don't work for it!
[Studies again.
NOCTAH.
Umph!
[Smokes pipe: a silence.
LINCOLN
(after a moment or so, looking up).
Anything I can do for you, Noctah?
NOCTAH.
No. Noctah want nothing.
[Another short silence. Noctah smokes. Lincoln studies. Then Noctah
moves towards door.
LINCOLN (looking up).
Going, Noctah? You know you're welcome to stay if you want to. (Noctah
continues impassively towards door.) Well, then, good-night.
NOCTAH.
Good-night.
[Exit Noctah.
[A moment later there comes the sound of Francois' fiddle, and the same
gay group breaks into the room, augmented by Jason and Lucy Brown. They
surround Lincoln, who has risen.
TOM.
Now, Abe, you know you like a husking better than anything else.
LINCOLN.
Better than most things, Tom; but not better than all.
[Looks toward his books.
JASON
(coaxing).
Come On, Abe, it's no fun without you.
LINCOLN
(decidedly).
Not to-night, Jason.
FRANCOIS.
You'll miss ze husking, Abe.
LINCOLN.
I know that, Francois; but then I'll gain--so much else! (Looks again
towards his beloved books.) There's husking to do there, Francois.
NANCY.
You'll be sitting here all lonely, without any friends.
LINCOLN
(with one of his rare smiles).
Without any friends--! Why, Nancy!
[Glances towards his books for a third time.
POLLY
(with a sniff).
He means that he'd rather have Defoe and Bunyan and Aesop than us.
LINCOLN.
Now, Polly.
POLLY
(with conviction).
You would. You know you would.
JASON.
Then you're not coming?
LINCOLN.
No, boys, I'm not coming. I tell you, it's like splitting rails. Once
you get tired or give up, your work gets the better of you. I mean to
stick to what I've set out to do.
TOM
(regretfully).
Well, then, good-night, Abe.
LINCOLN
(with the utmost friendliness).
Good-night. Good-night. (With a general stir and in the midst of a
chorus of leave-taking, he sees them to the door.) Watch your lantern,
Amy. Good-night. Good-night, all.
[For a moment he stands and there comes to him the sound of laughter
and retreating footsteps, and a gay lilt from Francois fiddle. As the
sound grows fainter and fainter he crosses resolutely to the hearth,
tosses on a cone or two, places the shovel where it will be within easy
reach, and stretches himself on the floor before the fire.
From outside a sudden gust of wind brings clearly a last snatch of the
air that Francois is playing in the distance. Lincoln raises his bead
and listens, smiles whimsically to himself, and then opens his books.
LINCOLN.
And now for the husking!
[He lies full length, absorbedly studying in the fire-glow as the
curtain falls.
COSTUMES
ABRAHAM LINCOLN. Blue flannel shirt. Faded black knee-breeches and
much-worn coat. Tall boots which he wears for out-of-doors, and changes
for old slippers.
POLLY. A brown woolen dress and scarlet cloak. Hair worn in quaint
fashion with combs.
NANCY LINCOLN. Dark-scarlet woolen dress, and brown cloak. All the
dresses of the girls are of the simplest. Their cloaks likewise.
AMY ROBY. Deep-blue woolen dress. Little white apron with pockets.
Dark-blue cloak with hood.
LUCY BROWN. Dark-green woolen dress and cloak.
TOM BUSH. Dark-brown flannel shirt. Dark-blue knee-breeches.
JASON BROWN. Faded red flannel shirt. Dark-blue knee-breeches.
FRANCOIS DURAND. Tan-colored flannel shirt. Dark-brown knee-breeches.
Crimson sash-belt.
NOCTAH. The usual Indian costume of buckskin. Fringed tunic. Long
trousers. Moccasins, or imitation moccasins of khaki. (The suit should
be of khaki also--the nearest imitation of buckskin.) He should wear a
wig of long, coarse black hair. If this wig cannot be had, simulate it
thus: make a tight-fitting skull-cap of black cheesecloth. Stitch it
where the parting in the hair should come. Make two braids of plaited
black cheesecloth, and fasten them to the skullcap so that they will
fall over the ears. They should be bound with a few wisps of red and
green. Noctah wears neither war-paint nor feathers, but his face and
hands should be stained brown.
DIRECTIONS
FOR INDOOR ARRANGEMENT OF THE PAGEANT OF PATRIOTS
While an outdoor stage is by far the best setting for a pageant there
are times and seasons when such a setting is not obtainable, and the
indoor pageant becomes advisable. And while no number of footlights can
hope to give the actual radiance of sunlight and blue sky, the indoor
pageant has several assets in its favor. It lends itself to such
festivals as Lincoln's and Washington's birthdays, and its performers
need have no fear of rain. Its dancers are sure of a level space. Its
woodland scenes can be arranged to suit the occasion, and the enhancing
effects of fire-glow, sunrise, or dimming twilight can be obtained as
in no other way.
If a painted forest scene cannot be had, tree branches fastened to
green screens placed right, left, and background can be made to do for
the outdoor setting. The screens can be covered with forest-green
burlap or cheesecloth. Real pine trees, in stands covered with green to
imitate bank of moss, are very effective. For a log to be used as a
seat, two vinegar barrels fastened together, covered with bark-brown
burlap splashed with green paint for moss and white for lichen. Red
electric light bulbs half hidden under fagots for the outdoor fire
effect.
The procession at the end can cross the stage, or march through the
assembly-room or hall in which the pageant is given. An armory or large
gymnasium is an ideal place in which to give the indoor arrangement of
the pageant if the stage of a small auditorium or theater is not
procurable. Many of the directions for the producing of the outdoor
pageant can be applied to the indoor one, and, therefore, those who
direct the indoor arrangement of the pageant are referred to the
outdoor arrangement. The directions for the final tableau, the march,
and the costume of The Spirit of Patriotism will be found there.
Throughout the pageant, its entire acts and marches, patriotic airs
should be played as much as possible.
THE HAWTHORNE PAGEANT
THE HAWTHORNE PAGEANT
1. CHORUS OF SPIRITS OF THE OLD MANSE
2. PROLOGUE BY THE MUSE OF HAWTHORNE
3. FIRST EPISODE (In Witchcraft Days)
4. DANCE INTERLUDE
5. SECOND EPISODE (Merrymount)
6. PROCESSION OF PLAYER FOLK
CHORUS OF SPIRITS OF THE OLD MANSE
From the dim world of dreams
Fraught with shadows and gleams
We entreat you and beckon and call.
Heed and harken you well,
Lend your hearts to our spell,
Let the soul of the Past hold you thrall.
Radiant, mystical, free
Unseen spirits were we
As we guarded the Manse long ago;
Moving soft through each room
In the twilight's gray gloom
While the fire on the hearth flickered low.
Hope and joy--these we brought;
Peace and fair dreams we wrought
For the Manse whose bright hearth was our goal.
Oh, then harken you well!
Lend your hearts to our spell,
Let the tide of the years backward roll.
PROLOGUE
(_Spoken by the Muse of Hawthorne_)
Ye who have known the great Enchanter's art,
Whose magic fired your brain and stirred your heart,
Whose touch, more potent than King Midas' gold,
Wrought Tales of Tanglewood and Tales Twice Told,
Whose Marble Faun and Mosses from the Manse
Still hold the lasting colors of Romance;
Who built 'for you the Hall of Fantasy
Through whose bright portals you might pass and see
Hester and Miriam and Goodman Brown
And Pyncheron, who dwelt in Salem Town--
Malvin and Endicott and Ethan Brand,
John Inglefield and that old crone whose hand
Was lent to fashioning Scarecrows built of straw--
All these through the Enchanter's eyes you saw,
Strange folk who trod the bleak New England shores,
Tithingmen, Sachems, Witches, Sagamores,
Puritans, Soldiers, Scholars, Quaker maids,
Royalists splendid in their rich brocades!
To-day the past has opened wide her door,
Scenes long since gone return to us once more,
Touched with the alchemy of history's gold.
First, ancient Salem, as it was, behold
In the grim days when "Witchcraft!" was the cry,
When folk declared that they saw witches fly
On devil's broomsticks straight across the moon,
While the wind piped by night a witch's tune;
When, e'en by day, intrepid witch-wives spoke,
Then vanished upward through the chimney smoke!
The Witches' Wood--this our first scene will show,
And all that once transpired there long ago.
Our second scene will picture Merrymount
Where lived gay royalists who took no count
Of Puritanic manners, and who sang
And laughed till all the woods about them rang
With outlaw merriment. These you will see
Engaged in maypole dance and minstrelsy,
While Puritans with grave and somber mien
Condemn such light-foot revels on the green!
These have you known on Hawthorne's living page.
Now shall you see them pictured on our stage.
Grant us your patience: lend your ears as well.
The rest our pageant now will strive to tell.
IN WITCHCRAFT DAYS
CHARACTERS
GOODY GURTON
PHILIPPE BEAUCOEUR
VIGILANT WINTHROP
HOLDFAST BRADFORD
JOHN GILES
GOODWIFE PRUDENCE HUBBARD
MERCY HUBBARD
BARBARA WILLIAMS, her playmate
DORCAS WORDELL
ANNE BROWN
REPENTANCE FOLGER
ROGER BLACKTHORNE
FEAR-NOUGHT CALDWELL
RENOUNCE WILTON
TABITHA BRETT
FAWNFOOT, an Indian maiden
GOODWIFE ABIGAIL WILLIAMS
The scene is an open glade near Salem, 1692.
Trees right, left, and background. Flowers, Ferns. Berry-vines. Herbs.
Tabitha Brett, a Puritan child, enters from left. She carries a quaint
pewter bowl, and looking about her spies berries, whereupon she calls
back over her shoulder to Renounce Wilton.
TABITHA
(calling).
Renounce! There are berries here! Yet not so many as Goodwife Prudence
Hubbard bade us bring. Perhaps 'tis too near the edge of the town, and
others have been before us.
RENOUNCE
(entering from left).
Others before us--Do you mean witches, Tabitha?
TABITHA.
Hush! Speak not that word! There are no witches flying in the daytime!
RENOUNCE
(wide-eyed).
But at night, Tabitha, who can tell how many witches may be abroad?
Dost thou not know that this is ofttimes called the "Witches' Wood" and
Holdfast Bradford says that on the stroke of midnight 'tis here that
they foregather. Canst thou not picture them whirling over the tree-
tops?
TABITHA (with a cry).
Be still, Renounce Wilton! Oh, what was that? (Clutches her.) A shadow?
(With more composure.) If you do talk of witches we shall lose half the
berries we have gathered, and Goodwife Hubbard will scold us roundly.
[Eats a few berries.
RENOUNCE.
You should not eat the berries, Tabitha.
TABITHA.
I know. But they are so sweet. As sweet as the barley sugar Goody
Gurton gives us.
RENOUNCE.
I marvel that our mothers let us hunt for berries at all.
TABITHA
(childishly).
Aye, 'tis not often they are minded to let us stray to the edge of the
forest. I think there is something stirring that we are not to hear,
and that is why our fingers are kept busy. My mother and Goodwife
Prudence Hubbard were deep in talk together; but when I passed they put
their fingers on their lips.
RENOUNCE
(pretending to be vastly impressed).
Did they so!
TABITHA
(looking about her).
I wish I knew where some wild plums grew.
RENOUNCE
(as they continue to gather berries).
Philippe Beaucoeur could tell us, did he but wish to.
TABITHA.
Renounce Wilton! I am ashamed of thee! Thou dost not mean that thou
hast held converse with Philippe Beaucoeur, who is half French and
lives in the woods like an Indian.
RENOUNCE
(with spirit).
I will hold converse with whom I please, Tabitha Brett. French or no
French, Philippe Beaucoeur is a brave lad, and there is naught about
the wild things that he does not know. 'Twas because he lives in the
forest and not in Salem Town as we do.
TABITHA
(in an awed voice).
Have you ever seen the place where Philippe lives? Barbara Williams
says it a fearsome spot. The forests about it are all black and solemn,
and the pines seem to whisper together, and there Philippe dwells in a
hut he himself hath builded.
RENOUNCE (sagely).
They say he hath dwelt alone there ever since his father died. Think of
it! In the forest! I should fear the Indians! But then, I am not like
Betty Hubbard, who hath no fears at all. And as for Philippe Beaucoeur,
there is naught that can make _him_ tremble. He says that 'tis on
account of his "ancestree." And then he laughs and makes a gesture:
"Blue blood of France is never chilled by terror, Mistress."
TABITHA.
"Blue blood of France--!" Who ever heard the like? I never saw blue
blood, nor didst thou! The color of blood is scarlet, as thou knowest
right well. Prick thy finger and see!
DORCAS WORDELL
(off stage, left).
Tabitha Brett! Tabitha Brett! Where are you?
TABITHA
(calling in answer).
Here, Dorcas, here! Renounce Wilton and I are gathering berries.
DORCAS
(entering excitedly).
You'll gather no more berries when you've heard the news. Sure, there
be stirring things afoot this day in Salem. What dost think? Barbara
Williams hath been bewitched!
RENOUNCE.
Dorcas!
DORCAS
(importantly).
Aye, since yesternight she hath clean disappeared. The evening meal was
set: she did not come. They have searched the woods, and the marshland,
and the roadways. 'Tis plain she hath been spirited away, and Goodwife
Abigail Williams is nigh out of her mind. But now that they've found
the witch----
TABITHA
(eagerly).
Found her----
DORCAS
(triumphantly).
Aye, found her! And you'll never guess who 'tis! Hark! They're coming!
She was hobbling this way as I passed, little dreaming that her evil
deeds would find her out so soon! The half o' Salem must be at her
heels. Look! Look!
GOODY GURTON'S VOICE
(from left, a cry of terror).
I am no witch. Good sirs, I am no witch. Mercy! Mercy!
RENOUNCE
(startled).
'Tis Goody Gurton's voice! Why, she is a poor old woman who hath never
done harm to any.
CRIES
(off stage, left).
A witch! A witch! A-aaaaah! A witch!
[The crowd surges in from left, dragging in the midst of it poor old
Goody Gurton. They separate and form a wide semicircle of which
Holdfast Bradford and trembling Goody Gurton form the center. In the
crowd are Goodwife Williams, Goodwife Hubbard, Mercy Hubbard, Goodwife
Brown, Repentance Folger, Vigilant Winthrop, John Giles, Roger
Blackthorne, and other people of Salem.
BRADFORD.
Silence, and look! Look, people of Salem! You know this spot right
well. 'Tis here that witches are reported to hold their wicked revels.
What better place have we in which to try a witch? Custom hath had it
aforetime that we have tried them in the courthouse. Now let us try
them on their own ground. 'Twill show that we fear neither them nor
their master. Neither their black books, nor their caldron's brew.
Stand forth, Goody Gurton, the accused. What have you to say? There is
the woman whose child you have bewitched and stolen.
GOODY GURTON
(in a trembling, aged voice).
I stole no child. I have bewitched no one. I am a poor old woman, as
you all know. I get my living by my needle, and my brews of herbs.
BRADFORD.
Stand forth, Abigail. Is it not true that half the town hath searched
for Barbara Williams since yesterday at sundown, and not a trace of her
hath been found?
GOODWIFE WILLIAMS
(wildly).
Aye, 'tis true! My child has gone from me! She is bewitched and stolen!
Bewitched and stolen! Everywhere I looked and found no token: but at
the door of Goody Gurton I found _this_!
[Holds up small white Puritan cap.
THE CROWD.
A-aaaaaah!
BRADFORD.
How came this cap to your door, Goody Gurton?
GOODY GURTON
(in a shaking voice).
The children often visit me for sweetmeats. I gave the child a little
barley sugar. She may have dropped the cap. I do not know.
BRADFORD.
Where did she turn after she left your doorway?
GOODY GURTON.
I did not look which way she went. I do not know. Oh, worshipful sir----
BRADFORD. Silence! Who else accuses Goody Gurton?
GOODWIFE HUBBARD.
We've seen strange things about, have we not, neighbors?
ALL.
Aye! Aye!
GOODWIFE HUBBARD.
Last night the wind wailed in my chimney. And when I crossed the fields
at twilight I had a feeling _that something followed me._
MERCY HUBBARD
(piping up).
And Goodman Folger's cow hath died since yesternight. And Goody Gurton
was seen going by the pasture.
VIGILANT WINTHROP.
Aye, there be many signs. Last night the moon rose red.
JOHN GILES.
And the week before there were more bats flying than I have ever seen
in Salem.
GOODWIFE BROWN.
And Goodwife Eaton says that all night long in the woods behind her
house there is something crying--she cannot tell whether it be an owl
or a child.
REPENTANCE FOLGER.
Last eve, when the wind was blowing, something flapped past me like a
witch's cloak.
BRADFORD.
What have you to say to these things, Goody Gurton?
GOODY GURTON
(quite simply).
Why, naught, sir, naught. I noted myself that last week the moon rose
red, and that last night the wind blew shrewdly.
BRADFORD.
How comes it that you were leaving the streets of Salem, and walking
here in the forest? 'Twas here in the forest we found you.
GOODY GURTON.
I came to hunt for some simples...for spearmint and checkerberry and
tansy.
BRADFORD
(with deep sternness).
And for wolfbane and hellbore and all other hideous herbs that witches
brew in their caldrons. You stand accused, Goody Gurton.
GOODY GURTON
(bewildered).
Accused?
BRADFORD.
Of witchcraft.
THE CROWD
(alternately surging close to her, and falling back).
A-aaah! To the pond with her! To the pond!
JOHN GILES.
If she sinks she is a witch, if she swims----
GOODY GURTON.
Have mercy----
GOODWIFE HUBBARD
(with a shiver).
The water in the pond is deep and cold.
WINTHROP.
Here come Caldwell and Blackthorne with a ducking-chair. (Blackthorne
and Caldwell carry between them a rude chair fashioned hastily from
wood on which the bark still clings.) Well and swiftly fashioned,
Blackthorne!
GOODY GURTON.
Mercy! Mercy! Gentle sirs, neighbors, goodwives! I am no witch! I swear
it. I had naught, naught to do with Barbara Williams.
BRADFORD.
A last chance, Goody. Call up your evil powers. Bring back the child,
and it shall be the stocks; but not the pond. Call! Call!
GOODY GURTON.
I have no words. I cannot bring her back. Mercy! Mercy!
BRADFORD
(curtly).
To the pond!
GOODY GURTON
(in a tremulous shriek as Blackthorne and Caldwell begin to bind her in
the ducking-chair).
Oh, no, no, no! I am no witch! I swear it! Will no one speak for me--
will no one----
[Philippe Beaucoeur, who has approached from right but a moment before,
and been partly hidden from view by those in front of him, now steps
forward boldly. The knife in his red sash-belt glitters in the sun. His
dark face is a-light with interest. His bearing is gallantly
determined.
PHILIPPE BEAUCOEUR.
I will speak!
RENOUNCE.
It is Philippe!
PHILIPPE
(boldly).
Stand back, Master Bradford. Be not so swift with your ducking-chair,
Goodman Caldwell. By what right have ye bound this poor old woman?
BRADFORD
(angrily).
By what right can a Jackanapes confront his elders?
PHILIPPE
(coolly).
By the right of free speech in a free country. By the right of seeing
defenseless age that lacks a champion.
GOODY GURTON
(her voice sunk to a low moan).
Mercy! Mercy!
PHILIPPE
(gallantly alert, hand on knife).
You have said your say against her. Is there one who hath spoken a word
for her?
BRADFORD
(blustering).
He has no right to confront us. He is not of Salem.
[Nevertheless, since Philippe is the only one armed, none step forward
to seize him.
PHILIPPE
(with light scorn).
The worshipful Bradford speaks true. I dwell in a kinder place. The
forest accuses neither man nor woman. Nay, do not frown at me, Holdfast
Bradford. My hand is as well matched as yours.
JOHN GILES.
By all the signs she is a witch. The moon rose red, and the wind----
THE CROWD
(not to be cheated).
Aye! Aye!
PHILIPPE.
What if the moon rose red? What if the wind wailed in the chimney? Are
ye children round the nursery fire that such things should be to you as
signs? Ye have seen the same a thousand times before. Is this all ye
can say against her? Is there naught ye can say for her--ye who have
known her kindness? John Giles, who sat with thy brother when he had
the fever? Goodwife Anne Brown, who helped thee keep watch the night
thy father's ship was lost at sea? Tabitha Brett, who healed thy
childish hurts, and drove away thy tears with sweetmeats? Thrice shame
upon you all! The poor old woman!
GOODWIFE WILLIAMS
(wildly).
Let her give back my child! Here is the cap that I found on her door-
sill.
PHILIPPE.
Let me look at the cap, Goodwife Williams. (Turns it inside out.) There
is a name embroidered on the band. (Reads.) "Hester Wordell." Not thy
child's cap at all.
[Hands it back.
GOODWIFE WILLIAMS.
'Tis more witchcraft!
PHILIPPE.
And is that witchcraft, too?
(A child's voice in the woods at right is heard singing:)
"In May I go a-walking to hear the linnets sing,
The blackbird and the throstle a-praising Queen and King:
It cheers the heart to hear them, to see the leaves unfold,
The meadows covered over with buttercups of gold."
GOODWIFE WILLIAMS.
'Tis Barbara's voice! 'Tis Barbara! (Enter Barbara, fleet as a shadow,
from right, followed by Fawnfoot. Both take the unconsciously tripping
steps that belong to the wild freedom of youth.) It is my child!
Barbara! Where hast thou been since yesternight?
BARBARA.
With Fawnfoot yonder. She taught me to play games, and angle for fish,
and----What be they staring at?
BRADFORD
(dryly).
Goodwife Williams, for children that rouse a village there is but one
remedy.
GOODWIFE WILLIAMS
(humbly).
A physic?
BRADFORD
(almost roaring).
No! A _slipper!_ See that it is administered. And light songs, such as
we heard but now, are scarcely seemly on a young one's lips. She should
learn graver measures.
[In groups of twos and threes the Puritans solemnly exeunt, left,
Bradford marching ahead. Fawnfoot, with agile grace, disappears into
background, dancing with her own shadow as she goes. Philippe and Goody
Gurton are left alone. Philippe bends over the ducking-chair, and with
his knife cuts the thongs which bind Goody Gurton, the while he talks,
half-tenderly, half-gaily, for the first time allowing a hint of accent
to creep into his speech.
PHILIPPE.
They do not even stop to unbind thee! It is a strange thing, this
witchcraft, that so turns the head!
GOODY GURTON.
You do for me what others do not do--you whom I have scarcely seen
before!
PHILIPPE.
A good deed sown is ofttimes a good deed reaped. So say they in la
belle France, and my tongue loves the words. 'Twas long ago that you
did a kindness for me when my father lay ill of a fever; but--I--I have
not forgotten. (He cuts the final thong that binds her.) Whither now,
Goody Gurton? Nay, it would seem that we have need of each other. For
you--a shoulder to lean on: for me--often I am lonely. I think what it
would mean in my hut in the forest to look up and see a grand'mere
sitting there! We be two outcasts; but the woods are kind. There is a
song about that oversea: it says--
(Sings)
Blue the sky above you,
Dans la foret;
True the hearts that love you,
Courageux et gai!
Come, Grand'mere, home!
[They exeunt right, he bearing himself with a proud erectness, she
leaning upon his shoulder with the peaceful dependence of a soul whose
problem is solved. The scene ends.
COSTUMES
The Puritan women and girls wear black dresses with white lawn
kerchiefs and cuffs, and Puritan caps. One or two of the women wear
black cloaks, falling to the edge of their gowns. The material of which
these dresses and cloaks may be made is black cambric with the glazed
side turned in. The kerchiefs and cuff of lawn or white cheesecloth.
For the men and lads full black knee-breeches, black doublets with the
sleeves a little fulled; white cuffs and Puritan collars. Long black
cloaks ankle-length. Beaver hats. Any well-illustrated edition of
"Pilgrim's Progress" will give an excellent idea of these costumes.
(See notes on Hawthorne Pageant, page 220.)
PHILIPPE BEAUCOEUR. Philippe Beaucoeur wears a tan-Colored costume cut
on Indian lines (supposedly dressed deerskin) with a sash of scarlet,
such as the French voyageurs were in the habit of wearing. A fur slung
across his shoulders and caught at his girdle. The costume is fringed,
Indian-like, but is not painted Of beaded. The breeches come to the
knee. Tan stockings and moccasins. The costume made of cotton khaki.
FAWNFOOT. The typical Indian maiden costume. Cotton khaki, gorgeously
painted at the neck. Bead chains and bracelets. Tan stockings.
Moccasins. Hair worn in braids. Scarlet head-band across forehead.
Black quill.
This play may be given by a cast of girls. (See notes on Hawthorne
Pageant.)
Music. The song which Barbara Williams sings can be found in "Songs of
the West," by S. Baring Gould. ("Folk Songs of Cornwall and Devon,
collected from the Mouths of the People.")
DANCE INTERLUDE
The dance interlude should be symbolic of the spirit of youth as
exemplified in the Indian and the Puritan. The music is MacDowell's
"From an Indian Lodge." The two players taking part in the dance are
Fawn-foot and Barbara Williams. The little Indian, dancing in the woods
with her own shadow, tries to entice the little Puritan into following
her steps. Barbara hangs back. But the dance proves too alluring. She
finally tries to imitate what the little Indian does; but at first the
quick motions of the other are quite beyond her. One is of the forest,
the other of the town! Yet, in the end, the little Puritan should show
that she has caught a little of the grace and freedom of her wild
playmate. Good pantomimic dancing, with grace and humor, should be
worked into this.
MERRYMOUNT
CHARACTERS
SIMON SCARLETT
SARAH SCARLETT, his sister
WILL LACKLEATHER
MOLL
NAN
JOCK
TIB
JOAN
ROBIN WAKELESS
FAUNCH
CHRISTOPHER CARMEL (KIT)
GOODY GLEASON
BESS
RESOLUTE ENDICOTT
GILLIAN PRITCHARD
FIGHT-FOR-RIGHT NORCROSS
AMOS WARREN
EBENEZER MATTHEWS
FAUNCH FRUGAL HILTON
SCENE: An open glade at Merrymount on a Summer's day in 1626. Trees
right, left, and background. In the center of the stage a maypole
decked with streaming ribbons that are somewhat faded.
Towards the left background, at some distance from the maypole, a
forest bed of pine boughs, sweet fern, and moss. Not far from this bed,
towards foreground, a tiny glimmer of fire, over whose graying ashes is
hung a small iron kettle. Scattered on the ground by the fire a goodly
number of iron and pewter drinking-cups, and an iron skillet for
brewing. The play begins by the entrance of Simon Scarlett from the
left, with a troop of Merrymounters at his heels, Faunch, Nan, Moll,
Tib, Joan, and Will Lackleather. All wear tattered finery. That of
Simon matches his name.
SCARLETT.
Hither! Hither! Come, Faunch the fiddler, give us another tune--one
that will set the echoes of Merry-mount a-ringing, and make the lean
Puritans in the valley to hold their ears.
ALL.
A tune! A tune!
FAUNCH.
What tune will ye have, Simon Scarlett?
SCARLETT.
Let it be a maypole dance, Faunch the fiddler! And a merry one! (Faunch
begins to play.) Let's see you foot it! (The folk of Merrymount begin
to dance.) Oh, bravely, bravely! If the Puritans could see you you'd be
led to the stocks and the whipping-post!
LACKLEATHER
(darkly).
'Twill take less than a dance to lead us there! You know right well
that the Puritans have sworn that if they catch us straying beyond the
bounds of Merrymount 'twill be the stocks and the whipping-post, and
that without mercy!
SCARLETT
(with a laugh and a shrug).
The stocks and the whipping-post! Come, drive such thoughts from your
head! Look! Yonder comes Jock with a tankard of apple juice! Cups for
us all! Quick, Lackleather! (Carved wooden cups are taken from the
trunk of a hollow tree.) Come, where are we all?
TIB.
All here, save Sarah Scarlett, who bides with Goody Gleason, and Bess,
who hath been away since dawn. Robin and Kit have gone to search for
her.
SCARLETT.
Well, Bess or no Bess, the maypole is waiting! Play us another catch,
goodfellow Faunch! My heels grow rusty!
[All start to dance.
ROBIN
(bursting in from right, followed by Kit Carmel). Simon! Simon! You'll
not dance so gaily when you've heard the news! Put up your music,
Faunch! Give over your capers, Lackleather! Bess hath been taken by the
Puritans!
[General consternation.
SCARLETT
(as all stop dancing).
You're jesting, lad!
ROBIN
(as he catches breath).
'Tis no jest, Simon! 'Tis bitter truth. 'Tis towards the stocks they
are leading her!
SCARLETT
(outraged).
You let them capture her?
KIT.
What were we two against so many!
SCARLETT
(passionately).
All Merrymount to the rescue! Zounds! Shall a pack o' Puritans match
their wits against ours? Who follows me?
ALL.
All of us! All!
LACKLEATHER.
There'll be a rescue!
FAUNCH
(as he follows, fiddling gaily).
A rescue made to music!
[All disappear into the woods, right, just as Sarah Scarlett, with
Goody Gleason leaning on her arm, comes out of the woods, left.
SARAH.
Faunch! Faunch! (Looks after the vanishing Merrymount folk.) He does
not hear me! Where are they going that they do not hear me? Nay, then,
dear Gran'am, rest on me. Step slowly. They've left off dancing at the
maypole, and gone I know not whither. Will you not rest you, while I
blow this flicker o' fire? (Leads Goody Gleason to bed of pine.) I'll
make thee broth, and season it right pleasantly when the lads come back
from their traps; for, now that I think on it, it may be to their traps
they have gone. (Sees Goody Gleason placed in comfortable fashion on
the bed of pine.) Rest, then, if you can, dear Gran'am. 'Twill
strengthen you against your chills and fever. (Seats herself at fire.)
Rest, if you can, and I will watch close by.
[Goody Gleason dozes off: Sarah sits by her and sings.
"Fortune, my foe, why dost thou frown on me,
And will thy favors never better be?
Wilt thou, I say, forever breed me pain?
And wilt thou not restore my joys again?"
[A pause: then from distance comes tumult of voices: "_Ho! Steady
there, Will Lackleather! Have a care, Robin Wakeless!_" (The voices are
very faint but clear: the sound of them coming from a long distance.)
BESS
(running ahead of the others, disheveled, breathless, excited, enters,
and swinging about, halloos to those who are following her, her hands
held clarion-wise).
Have a care, Simon! Look well to the Puritan!
SARAH
(running to her).
Bess! What's here! What's happened?
BESS
(still greatly excited).
I'll tell thee when I catch my breath! I've been in the stocks with the
whole of Wollaston to gape at me. Puritan heads a-wagging! Puritan eyes
a-staring! And after the stocks 'twas towards the whipping-post that
they were leading me! But I've learned a trick or two from our lanes
here at Merrymount. I gave a sudden twist--the constable loosened his
hold--I ran and ran! There was not one could catch me. And for the
shaming they've done me they are to pay full dear. I ran ahead to tell
you. Listen!
VOICES
(coming nearer).
Easy there, Kit! Have a care, Robin!
SARAH.
Heaven's mercy, Bess, what is it they're bringing?
BESS
(with a blaze of excitement and triumph).
Can you not see? Our lads have stolen Resolute Endicott, spinning-wheel
and all.
[It is soon seen that Bess speaks truly. Mistress Endicott makes her
entrance seated on a pine board that is carried between Robin Wakeless
and Kit Carmel. She is closely guarded by Jock, who marches behind.
Scarlett and Will Lackleather carry her spinning-wheel. Faunch brings
up the rear, with the Merrymount maidens following. Joan carries a
spinning-stool.
SCARLETT
(as he and Lackleather set down spinning-wheel, left).
Look to your steps, Robin! Steady there, Kit Carmel! (As Resolute
stands, center, he approaches her with elaborate mocking courtesy.)
Mistress, we bid you welcome to Merrymount!
ROBIN.
What will you have, Mistress Endicott? A merry stave, a cup of cherry
wine, or a maypole dance? Speak, and we do' your pleasure!
SCARLETT
(to Sarah).
Rouse our gran'am, sister. Sure, such a sight as this will warm her
bones! (To Resolute, indicating Bess.) See! There is one of our number
who hath been royally entertained by your townsfolk. We are minded to
do the same by you! (To the others.) Come, we'll spread a feast for
Mistress Endicott. Empty your traps, Robin! Bring on your game, Will
Lackleather! We'll show how Merrymount can sup when it has a mind!
JOAN
(aside: outraged).
What! Waste our substance on a Puritan?
KIT CARMEL.
Why, lass, do you not catch Simon's meaning? 'Tis a rare jest to make a
Puritan dance, whether she will or no. Can you not see she would rather
go straight to perdition than vouch us a word or a glance? 'Twas a
shrewd trick of Simon's to seize her as she sat in her dooryard. We'll
have more mirth to-day than hath been here a twelvemonth.
SCARLETT.
Come! Come! We must prepare to feast! (To Resolute.) Think not to stir
from here, Mistress. Puritan feet can never outrun the heels of
Merrymount! Come, lads, let's start, or the feast will not be ready.
Who goes with us?
ALL.
I! I! And I!
SARAH.
I'll bide with my gran'am.
[Exeunt all the others, save Resolute, Sarah, and Goody Gleason. There
is a pause of a moment or so. Sarah, seated on the ground by Goody
Gleason, looks curiously at Resolute. Resolute stares straight in front
of her.
SARAH
(rising, and bringing Resolute her spinning-stool).
Best to be seated, Mistress. You'll be a long time standing. What! Not
even a word of thanks from a model of worshipful manners? It must be a
sad thing not to be able to use one's tongue, Mistress Resolute.
Indeed, I pity you!
RESOLUTE.
Such words as I could speak would fall full strangely on Merrymount
ears.
SARAH.
I doubt it not. We are not given to canting here at Merrymount.
RESOLUTE.
I might give you such answer as those words deserve, did I not know
that they are the words of one who lives in sin and ignorance.
SARAH
(crossing rapidly to left, her hands clenched, amazement and wrath in
her voice).
Sin and ig----Zounds! A plague take you!
RESOLUTE
(turning: her fingers in her ears).
Oh! Oh! Now you are swearing!
SARAH.
You little weazened, mincing, purse-mouthed Puritan!
RESOLUTE
(her fingers still in her ears).
I do not hear a word that you are saying.
SARAH
(starting to pull Resolute's fingers from her ears).
I'll _make_ you hear, I warrant!
GOODY GLEASON
(moaning).
Alack! Alack! Will the posset never be done?
SARAH
(instantly remorseful).
Gran'am! Your posset! To think I could forget you! (Runs to fire.) And
yet--and yet----(Looks in kettle.) Alas! Alas! I am not skilled in
brewing.
RESOLUTE
(half against her will).
There's cure for ague in our forest herbs.
SARAH.
Oh, had I but your knowledge--! (With an effort towards healing the
breach.) If you'll take back your words about sin and ignorance, never
again will I call you a mincing white-faced moppet--even if you are
one.
RESOLUTE(provokingly prim).
I may not take back words that I have spoken.
SARAH.
Then you _are_ a prim-mouthed, white-faced jade, even as I have said.
RESOLUTE.
And that you dwell in sin and ignorance becomes more and more certain.
[They face each other as if with crossed swords, left.
GOODY GLEASON
(sighing).
Is the posset done?
SARAH
(despairing).
I cannot tell whether it be done or no.
RESOLUTE
(with her back turned).
If the brew be clear, then the posset is not yet done; but if a little
wax float on the top----(Sees Sarah's perplexity, and comes to fire
with the air of one bestowing wisdom.) All maids should know how to
make healing potions. I marvel that you've learned no hearthstone arts.
SARAH
(as Resolute seats herself at fire).
Mayhap, if I had a hearth I could compass such knowledge, Mistress. But
we be forest folk with no roof but the stars.
RESOLUTE.
You chose----
SARAH
(busying herself with pouring the posset into cup and giving it to
Goody Gleason).
Aye, Mistress, I know well what you would say. We chose to live the
life of Merrymount. We brooked no Puritan rule: therefore on our heads
be it! We suffer for the love of freedom. (Keenly.) Do you not suffer,
too, for the same cause? It was for freedom you and yours left England.
It was for freedom we and ours left Wollaston. You could not brook
restraint: no more could we.
RESOLUTE.
But your revels--your songs and dancing----
SARAH.
We meet misfortune with a laugh instead of with a groan: where is the
harm in that?
RESOLUTE
(with dawning friendliness).
Indeed you give me much to ponder on.
SARAH
(with a burst of candor).
Since I've known you I do not think so hard on Puritans. (Half-
wistfully.) I wish--I wish I had your arts and knew wise household
ways. I fear we be but addle-pates at Merrymount. I cannot brew a
medicine, nor spin, nor----
RESOLUTE
(rising).
Come, I will teach you! (They go to spinning-wheel.) Aye, sit you so,
and mind you do not break the thread. So! So!
[While the spinning lesson is going on, Scarlett and his followers
enter from left background, carrying fish, game, and wild fruits,
Scarlett in advance of the others. For a moment he stands transfixed by
what he sees. Then tiptoes back, beckons to others, and points out the
picture. Pantomime of surprise and stifled mirth.
SCARLETT
(mockingly).
Look! Look! Our Sarah hath turned Puritan! While as for Mistress
Endicott--! Come, Faunch, a tune, lad, a tune! A wreath for our worthy
guest! (Approaching Resolute.) Mistress, 'tis time you learned to trip
it about the maypole. I claim your hand for a measure----
SARAH
(suddenly returning from seeing to the preparations for feasting which
are going on in background).
You shall do no such folly. Mistress Resolute shall not dance if she
holds that dancing is a sin. Take that in your teeth, Simon Scarlett!
SCARLETT.
Are you bewitched? Hath the Puritan turned your head?
SARAH.
My wits, good Simon, are as clear as thine. 'Tis true that the
constables put our Bess in the stocks; but 'twas none of Resolute's
doing! And when you stole her hence that debt was paid. Moreover, of
her own free will she has made a healing brew for our gran'am, and for
that I stand her friend.
ROBIN WAKELESS
(drawing near and hearing the controversy).
Is there no mirth left in you, Sarah Scarlett, that you cannot see the
jest of making a sniveling Puritan to----
SARAH
(promptly and blazingly).
Cease your talk, Robin Wakeless! And when you speak of sniveling
Puritans, speak of them that do snivel. For though you brought Mistress
Endicott here in a rough and unseemly fashion, she has not once winced,
no, nor plead for mercy. You are quick to laud a brave front in
yourselves: are you less quick to laud it in your neighbors?
SCARLETT
(as some of the other Merrymount folk gather about the scene).
'Tis true what Sarah says. The maid is not given to whining. (To
Resolute, with an entire change of manner.) Well, then, Mistress,
though our feast go forward, you shall not sup with us unless it
pleases you. Say but the word, and we will take you back to Wollaston,
you and your means of industry!
SARAH
(eagerly).
Will you not sup with us first?
RESOLUTE.
I thank you, Sarah Scarlett.
SARAH
(delightedly).
Come, then!
FAUNCH
(singing, as he puts his fiddle under his chin, while Scarlett tosses a
wreath in the air).
"Fortune, my foe, why dost thou frown on me,
And will thy favors----"
TIB
(rushing wildly in from right).
Hush your music, Faunch! Down with your trumpery, Simon! The Puritans
are upon us--Pritchard and Norcross and Warren and Hilton--all a-
marching up the hill! Armed to the teeth they are, Simon, and there's
not an ounce of shot amongst us!
SCARLETT
(as Puritans begin to appear, right).
Zounds! They're upon us!
GILLIAN PRITCHARD
(as he and his followers come forward from right background).
Make no resistance, ye scum of Dagon's brood, or Merrymount and all
that is within it shall be sacked within the hour! Where is the maid ye
stole?
RESOLUTE
(dearly).
Here, Gillian Pritchard! Here, safe and sound, and courteously treated
by the folk of Merrymount. Why use ye such words as stole? 'Tis most
unseemly. And why come ye here unbidden? Sure, none sent for you?
GILLIAN PRITCHARD
(amazed: disapproving).
Resolute!
RESOLUTE
(haughtily).
Mistress Endicott, so please you, and the governor's cousin!
GILLIAN PRITCHARD
(more and more pained).
Resolute!
RESOLUTE
(continuing quickly).
May I not step from my door to do a deed of kindness for an old woman
but what the whole of Wollaston is at my heels? Or give a lesson in
spinning without a cry being raised that I am stolen? I do not take it
kindly of you, Amos Warren; no, nor of you, Ebenezer Matthews. Pick up
my spinning-wheel, Frugal Hilton, and let Fight-for-Right Norcross
carry my chair. (To Sarah.) There are herbs in that pocket for your
gran'am.
[Gives her herb pocket.
[The Puritans, including Resolute Endicott, exeunt right.
SCARLETT
(breaking forth).
She saved us! Saved us! Zounds! Was there ever anything like unto it!
What dost thou make of it, Sarah?
SARAH.
I make of it that Mistress Endicott hath a warm heart beneath her cold
white Puritan kerchief, and that in this new land of ours we should
better strive to understand each other; for, though our ways be
different, are we not beset by the same hopes and fears, doth not the
same sky arch above us all? (To Simon.) Think you not so, my brother?
(As all begin to go towards background where the feast is in
readiness.) Come, gran'am, lean on me. Our feast must be near to
readiness. A Puritan hearthstone--sooth, it must be a goodly place; yet
right glad am I that we live beneath the stars, and are still the light
free-hearted folk o' Merrymount!
COSTUMES
The costumes are those of the seventeenth-century cavaliers for the
Merrymount lads. Slashed jerkins, full sleeves with puffs and
slashings, or bishop's sleeves of white lawn showing through tattered
velvet oversleeves. Their cloaks are sometimes topped with white lace
collars. They wear either stockings and low slippers with buckles, or
high cavalier boots. Their hair is worn in lovelocks. See the
illustrated edition of "Pilgrim's Progress," or any good cavalier
pictures. If the velvets and satins cannot be had, use cambric in gay
colors with the glazed side out, which gives the effect of satin.
SIMON SCARLETT. Scarlet suit. Scarlet cloak with white lace collar.
Scarlet shoes and stockings. His costume is the high note of color in
the play.
WILL LACKLEATHER. Dark-brown cloak. High brown boots. Brown jerkin,
through which show sleeves of white lawn. The jerkin is of leather.
ROBIN WAKELESS. Suit of blue satin. Gray cloak. Gray foot-gear.
CHRISTOPHER CARMEL. Dark-blue velvet slashed with orange.
JOCK. Very dark-purple cloak, with touches of tarnished gold. Leather
jerkin, pieced out with fur.
FAUNCH THE FIDDLER. Costume of pale-blue satin and black velvet. A
black velvet cloak.
All the Merrymount maidens wear fine raiment that is equally tattered
and weather-worn. They have peasant bodices--that is, a very deep
girdle the color of their skirts, worn with white square-necked waists
that have soft semi-full sleeves; or they wear bodices of one piece
made very plainly. Cambric in gay colors will do.
SARAH SCARLETT. Forest-green dress, ankle-length. White bodice showing
through tattered green sleeves. Forest-green cloak patched with
scarlet.
GOODY GLEASON. Leaf-brown cloak and dress, patched a little with black
and gray.
MOLL. Olive-green dress, white bodice. It is pieced out with bits of
leather.
NAN. Maroon dress, patched in black.
TIB. Dull blue dress.
JOAN. Dark dull-green and red flowered dress, giving the appearance of
tattered brocade.
BESS. Gray dress.
The maypole dancers are in dull-green, dull-violet, and dull-blue,
bronze, and slate-gray. Some wear cloaks and some do not. All should
have a wild, picturesque gipsyish look.
RESOLUTE ENDICOTT. Black dress, ankle-length. White Puritan cap, cuffs,
and kerchief. (Black cambric with the glazed side turned in.) The
Puritan men wear long cloaks coming to their ankles: deep, white plain
collars, plain white cuffs on black sleeves. Black hats. "Boxed"
hair, falling below the ears. Low black shoes. Black stockings. Black
knee-breeches, somewhat full.
For a cast composed entirely of girls, such as a girls' camp or school,
this play can be given with gymnasium suits forming part of the
costumes for both Merrymount lads and Puritans. The girls can wear the
bloomers of their gymnasium suits fastened with a ribbon-garter, so as
to make the puffed seventeenth century garb. The ribbon should be gay
in color and fastened either with a rosette or a bow. White, soft loose
waists, with rather full long sleeves. The cloaks of cambric in bright
colors should come to the ankles, the glazed side worn outward, to give
a satiny look. The cloaks for the Puritans should be of the same
length, made of black cambric, with the glazed side turned in. They
should wear black cotton waists, and it will be easy and simple for the
girls to fashion the white cuffs and collars out of white lawn or
cheesecloth. The whole play can thus be costumed for a very small sum.
If a further touch of color is to be added to the costumes of the
Merrymount lads, their gay cloaks may be topped with white lace
collars. Their stockings can be gay in color, and here and there a
slashed jerkin will add variety. The maidens of Merrymount can wear
dresses of cambric, made on the simplest possible lines. The color
scheme of the foregoing costumes should, in the main, be adhered to.
The ribbon-garters and stockings may match in color. Pale-blue, orange,
purple, jade, corn-yellow, and hunter's green will prove effective. No
pink or old rose should be worn, as scarlet is the high note of color
in the play.
MUSIC: Any quaint old-time maypole dance will do for the maypole rout.
The words and music of "Fortune, My Foe" can be found in Chappell's
"Popular Musk of Antiquity," Vol. I, page 62.
PAGEANT DIRECTIONS
The Hawthorne Pageant can be produced either indoors or out of doors.
For the outdoor production there should be a level sward with trees
right, left, and background. It is suitable for any of the Spring,
Summer, or Autumn months, or for Hawthorne's birthday, July 4.
For an indoor production of the pageant if a green woodland set cannot
be had, green screens with pine branches fastened to them, a green or
brown floor-cloth, and forest-green hanging filling in the background
may be used. Pine trees in green stands around which green and brown
burlap is banked is another way of having an inexpensive and realistic
scene setting. _The setting for the whole pageant is the same_. It can
be given in an assembly hall, gymnasium, or armory.
The costumes for the episodes have already been indicated. The pageant
may be given by a cast made up entirely of girls, if it is so wished.
THE MUSE OF HAWTHORNE. Pale-pink cheesecloth draperies. A tall white
staff, on which is fastened a cluster of pink hawthorn blossoms.
Flowing hair, and a chaplet of laurel leaves. White stockings and
sandals.
THE SPIRITS OF THE OLD MANSE. Greek robes in colored cheesecloth or
cotton crepe. There are eight of these maidens, and the colors they
wear are pale-green, pale-lavender, pale-yellow, and pale-blue. They
carry great garlands of moss interwoven with pine--about two yards for
each player, so that it can be held gracefully. White stockings and
sandals. Hair bound With Greek fillets of white or of silver.
Symbolically these spirits represent Joy, Mystery, Peace, Dreams, Hope,
Aspiration, Fulfilment, Ecstasy.
MUSIC. The songs of the episodes are already indicated on pages 194 and
203. The music for the chorus of the Spirits of the Old Manse can be
found in "Songs of the West," by S. Baring Gould, which is a collection
of the Folk Songs of Devon and Cornwall, collected from the mouths of
the people. The music of this chorus is set to the seventeenth-century
folk song called "The Sweet Nightingale" ("My sweetheart, come along,"
etc.). The incidental music for the Hawthorne Pageant when it is given
indoors should be from Edward MacDowell's "New England Idylls" Op. 62,
and from his "Indian Suite." "From an Old Garden," "Midsummer," "An
Indian Idyll," and "From Puritan Days" can be played between the
episodes and the Dance Interlude. An orchestra or piano can add to the
music of Faunch's fiddle in the Merrymount scene. The music for the
procession should be very stately, and by a seventeenth-century
composer, if possible.
NOTES ON DIRECTING THE PAGEANT. The first verse of the chorus of the
Spirits of the Old Manse should be sung off stage in the indoor
production. The stage should be darkened: footlights low. With the next
verse the spirits enter, four from right, and four from left, mystic,
half-seen figures. As they enter the lights gradually begin to come up,
until with the middle of the second verse there is full strong
daylight. If the eight voices are not enough a hidden augmented chorus
can be behind the scenes. If the stage is such that it can be darkened
and lighted at will, a fire-glow effect should be given for the
Merrymount scene. The light for all the scenes should be that of strong
daylight. There should be no curtain. The characters simply appear and
disappear. After the Spirits of the Manse have made their exit the
Prologue enters. The procession at the end of the play may simply cross
the scene to march music, the players not stiffly moving in ones and
twos, but in more or less significant groups.
Those who direct the pageant should see to it that the players speak
the dialogue in the episodes with the utmost briskness. There should be
no waits and pauses. Simon Scarlett especially should enunciate clearly
and swiftly, with dash and fire in both voice and gesture. Even if some
of the words are lost, it is better to keep up the tempo of the piece.
Philippe Beaucoeur should also speak with a rush of energy and
determination. The players who are on the scene but not speaking,
should develop their pantomimic powers, and form animated groups; their
interest should be first with one character who is speaking, and then
with another. They should never stand idle, looking blankly at the
audience, as so many amateurs are in the habit of doing. In the Salem
episode they should surge forward and back, and discuss in pantomimic
groups all that is happening.
BY CARROLL WATSON RANKIN
STORIES FOR GIRLS
THE CINDER POND
Illustrated by ADA C. WILLIAMSON. $1.35 net.
Years ago, a manufacturer built a great dock, jutting out from and then
turning parallel to the shore of a northern Michigan town. The factory
was abandoned, and following the habits of small towns, the space
between the dock and the shore became "The Cinder Pond." Jean started
life in the colony of squatters that came to live in the shanties on
the dock, but fortune, heroism, and a mystery combine to change her
fortunes and those of her friends near the Cinder Pond.
THE CASTAWAYS OF PETE'S PATCH
Illustrated by ADA C. WILLIAMSON. $1.35 net.
A tale of five girls and two youthful grown-ups who enjoyed
unpremeditated camping.
DANDELION COTTAGE
Illustrated by Mmes. SHINN and FINLEY. $1.35 net.
Four young girls secure the use of a tumbledown cottage. They set up
housekeeping under numerous disadvantages, and have many amusements and
queer experiences.
"A capital story. It is refreshing to come upon an author who can tell
us about real little girls, with sensible ordinary parents, girls who
are neither phenomenal nor silly."--_Outlook_.
THE ADOPTING OF ROSA MARIE
A sequel to "Dandelion Cottage." Illustrated by Mrs. SHINN. $1.35 net.
The little girls who played at keeping house in the earlier book,
enlarge their activities to the extent of playing mother to a little
Indian girl.
"Those who have read 'Dandelion Cottage' will need no urging to follow
further...A lovable group of four real children, happily not perfect,
but full of girlish plans and pranks...A delightful sense of humor."--
_Boston Transcript_.
THE GIRLS OF GARDENVILLE
Illustrated by MARY WELLMAN. 12mo. $1.35 net.
Interesting, amusing, and natural stories of a girls' club.
"Will captivate as many adults as if it were written for them...The
secret of Mrs. Rankin's charm is her naturalness...real girls...not
young ladies with 'pigtails,' but girls of sixteen who are not twenty-
five...as original as amusing."--_Boston Transcript_.
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
BY ALFRED BISHOP MASON
TOM STRONG, WASHINGTON'S SCOUT
Illustrated. $1.25 net.
A story of adventure. The principal characters, a boy and a trapper,
are in the Revolutionary army from the defeat at Brooklyn to the
victory at Yorktown.
"The most important events of the Revolution and much general
historical information are woven into this interesting and very well
constructed story of Tom and a trapper, who serve their country bravely
and well. Historical details are correctly given."--_American Library
Association Booklet_.
TOM STRONG, BOY-CAPTAIN
Illustrated. $1.25 net.
Tom Strong and a sturdy old trapper take part in such stirring events
following the Revolution as the Indian raid with Crawford and a flat-
boat voyage from Pittsburgh to New Orleans, etc.
TOM STRONG, JUNIOR
Illustrated. $1.25 net.
The story of the son of Tom Strong in the young United States. Tom sees
the duel between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr; is in Washington
during the presidency of Jefferson; is on board of the "Clermont" on
its first trip, and serves in the United States Navy during the War of
1812.
TOM STRONG, THIRD
Illustrated. $1.30 net.
Tom Strong, Junior's son helps his father build the first railroad in
the United States and then goes with Kit Carson on the Lewis and Clarke
Expedition.
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
THE HOME BOOK OF VERSE FOR YOUNG FOLKS
_Compiled by_ BURTON E. STEVENSON, _Editor of "The Home Book of Verse"_
_With cover, and illustrations in color and black and white by WILLY
POGANY. Over 500 pages, large 12mo. $2.00 net._
Not a rambling, hap-hazard collection but a vade-mecum for youth from
the ages of six or seven to sixteen or seventeen. It opens with Nursery
Rhymes and lullabies, progresses through child rhymes and jingles to
more mature nonsense verse; then come fairy verses and Christmas poems;
then nature verse and favorite rhymed stories; then through the trumpet
and drum period (where an attempt is made to teach true patriotism,) to
the final appeal of "Life Lessons" and "A Garland of Gold" (the great
poems for all ages).
This arrangement secures sequence of sentiment and a sort of cumulative
appeal. Nearly all the children's classics are included, and along with
them a body of verse not so well known but almost equally deserving.
There are many real "finds," most of which have never before appeared
in any anthology.
Mr. Stevenson has banished doleful and pessimistic verse, and has dwelt
on hope, courage, cheerfulness and helpfulness. The book should serve,
too, as an introduction to the greater poems, informing taste for them
and appreciation of them, against the time when the boy or girl, grown
into youth and maiden, is ready to swim out into the full current of
English poetry.
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
TWO BOOKS BY CONSTANCE D'ARCY MACKAY
COSTUMES AND SCENERY FOR AMATEURS
A Practical Working Handbook with over 70 illustrations and full index.
258 pp. 12mo. $1.75 net.
A book that has long been needed. It concludes chapters on Amateurs and
the New Stage Art, Costumes, and Scenery, but consists mainly of simple
outline designs for costumes for historical plays, particularly
American Pageants, folk, fairy, and romantic plays--also of scenes,
including interiors, exteriors, and a scheme for a Greek Theatre, all
drawn to scale. Throughout the book color schemes, economy, and
simplicity are kept constantly in view, and ingenious ways are given to
adapt the same costumes or scenes to several different uses.
HOW TO PRODUCE CHILDREN'S PLAYS
The author is a recognized authority on the production of plays and
pageants in the public schools, and combines enthusiastic sympathy with
sound, practical instructions. She tells both how to inspire and care
for the young actor, how to make costumes, properties, scenery, where
to find designs for them, what music to use, etc., etc. She prefaces it
all with an interesting historical sketch of the plays-for-children
movement, includes elaborate detailed analyses of performances of
Browning's _Pied Piper_ and Rosetti's _Pageant of the Months_, and
concludes with numerous valuable analytical lists of plays for various
grades and occasions. $1.25 net.
_New York Times Review_: "It will be useful...practical advice."
_Magazine of General Federation of Women's Clubs_: "There seems to be
nothing she has forgotten to mention. Every club program chairman
should have it."
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
SHORT PLAYS ABOUT FAMOUS AUTHORS
(Goldsmith, Dickens, Heine, Fannie Burney, Shakespeare)
By MAUDE MORRISON FRANK. $1.25 _net_.
THE MISTAKE AT THE MANOR shows the fifteen-year-old Goldsmith in the
midst of the humorous incident in his life which later formed the basis
of "She Stoops to Conquer."
A CHRISTMAS EVE WITH CHARLES DICKENS reveals the author as a poor
factory boy in a lodging-house, dreaming of an old-time family
Christmas.
WHEN HEINE WAS TWENTY-ONE dramatizes the early disobedience of the
author in writing poetry against his uncle's orders.
MISS BURNEY AT COURT deals with an interesting incident in life of the
author of "Evelina" when she was at the Court of George III.
THE FAIRIES' PLEA, which is an adaptation of Thomas Hood's poem, shows
Shakespeare intervening to save the fairies from the scythe of Time.
Designed in general for young people near enough to the college age to
feel an interest in the personal and human aspects of literature, but
the last two could easily be handled by younger actors. They can
successfully be given by groups or societies of young people without
the aid of a professional coach.
LITTLE PLAYS FROM AMERICAN HISTORY FOR YOUNG FOLKS
BY ALICE JOHNSTONE WALKER. $1.10 _net_.
HIDING THE REGICIDES, a number of brief and stirring episodes,
concerning the pursuit of Colonels Whalley and Goff by the officers of
Charles II at New Haven in old colony days.
MRS. MURRAY'S DINNER PARTY, in three acts, is a lively comedy about a
Patriot hostess and British Officers in Revolutionary Days.
SCENES FROM LINCOLN'S TIME; the martyred President does not himself
appear. They cover Lincoln's helping a little girl with her trunk,
women preparing lint for the wounded, a visit to the White House of an
important delegation from New York, and of the mother of a soldier boy
sentenced to death--and the coming of the army of liberation to the
darkies.
The big events are touched upon, the mounting of all these little plays
is simplicity itself, and they have stood the test of frequent school
performance.
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
COMPANION STORIES OF COUNTRY LIFE
FOR BOYS
_By_ CHARLES P. BURTON
THE BOYS OF BOB'S HILL
Illustrated by GEORGE A. WILLIAMS. 12mo. $1.30.
A lively story of a party of boys in a small New England town.
"A first-rate juvenile...a real story for the live human boy--any boy
will read it eagerly to the end...quite thrilling adventures."--
_Chicago Record-Herald_.
"Tom Sawyer would have been a worthy member of the Bob's Hill crowd and
shared their good times and thrilling adventures with uncommon
relish...A jolly group of youngsters as nearly true to the real thing
in boy nature as one can ever expect to find between covers."--
_Christian Register_.
THE BOB'S CAVE BOYS
Illustrated by VICTOR PERARD. $1.30 net.
"It would be hard to find anything better in the literature of New
England boy life. Healthy, red-blooded, human boys, full of fun, into
trouble and out again, but frank, honest, and clean."--_The
Congregationalist_.
THE BOB'S HILL BRAVES
Illustrated by H. S. DELAY. 12mo. $1.30 net.
The "Bob's Hill" band spend a vacation in Illinois, where they play at
being Indians, hear thrilling tales of real Indians, and learn much
frontier history. A history of especial interest to "Boy Scouts."
"Merry youngsters. Capital. Thrilling tales of the red men and
explorers. These healthy red-blooded, New England boys."--_Philadelphia
Press_.
THE BOY SCOUTS OF BOB'S HILL
Illustrated by GORDON GRANT. 12mo. $1.30 net.
The "Bob's Hill" band organizes a Boy Scouts band and have many
adventures. Mr. Burton brings in tales told around a camp-fire of La
Salle, Joliet, the Louisiana Purchase, and the Northwestern
Reservation.
CAMP BOB'S HILL
Illustrated by GORDON GRANT. $1.30 net.
A tale of Boy Scouts on their summer vacation.
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK