I feel that I am entitled to speak with perfect freedom of the
entertainment lately given in our parish hall, for, except as a
spectator and as contributing several of the performers to the
programme, without myself knowing anything about it beyond what rumour
and the unwonted bustling mystery of the household brought to my
knowledge--except, as I say, in these points, I had nothing to do with
it. The whole thing was managed by an informal committee of ladies,
acting on the discovery that the School Children's Meals Fund was at
its last gasp, and required replenishment in order to carry it on
through the ensuing year. Upon that the informal committee got to work
and held several meetings. Now the methods of a committee of ladies
differ from those of men. The ladies meet together in drawing-rooms
and, so far as a casual observer can judge, they discuss every subject
except the particular one for which they have been summoned. Then
comes the moment when they intimate to one another that they must go,
and they arise and draw slowly and reluctantly out from the
drawing-room through the hall to the front-door step. Then, but never
till then, just as they are about to go away, they suddenly remember
what they came for, and in another five minutes the whole business is
settled, and they stream away with the consciousness of work
satisfactorily done. It is an unceremonious method, but a highly
efficient one if judged by its results. In this particular case it
produced a delightful entertainment, which I may describe as being by
the children, for the children and of the children, as well as of the
elders who gathered together to applaud the zeal and skill of the
little performers.
Fortunately the appointed day was fine and there was a great rush of
spectators, who soon filled the hall to its utmost capacity. The
entertainment began with a tribute to patriotism in the shape of
_tableaux vivants_, all save one selected from the storehouse of our
kind old friend _Mr. Punch's_ cartoons. There, brilliantly and
magnificently accoutred, was seen Britannia setting out to war for
friendship and honour. There again we beheld brave little Belgium
defying the German bully, and Holland succouring the refugees, and
Belgium consoled by Liberty, and a final picture of Liberty blessing
the Allies. All these were admirably represented, the immobility of
the performers being not less remarkable than the splendour of their
equipment; and enthusiasm was still further stimulated by the singing
of the anthems of the various allied nations.
The performance proceeded, and the _intermezzi_ had been briskly
taken; the harp had spent its last liquid notes; "Caller Herrin'" had
been delightfully sung, and four tiny girls (combined height some
twelve feet) had charmed us with the pretty innocence of their flower
carol. Also a dramatic version of "The Holly Tree Inn" had been played
in a fashion that DICKENS would not have disapproved. Now there was a
murmur of expectation among the audience; soon the crystal-clear
strains of "He shall feed His flock" sounded through the room, and as
they lingered and died away the curtain rose for the masque, "The Holy
Night." At the back of the stage was a lowly shed, its closed door
guarded by two angelic figures clothed in pure white draperies and
with wings that sparkled with a silver sheen. High above, to the left
of the shed, a third angel soared, and these three watched and waited,
intent and motionless, their hands crossed over their breasts. In
front of them lay three shepherds, and amongst them frisked a white
and woolly little lamb (Douglas, the Vicar's son), and further to the
left we recognised little Kit Price as a raven in sleek black satin,
and our John only partially disguised as a highly-coloured and
effective cock, strutting and flapping and pecking and scraping to his
heart's content, and admitted to the cast in spite of the stage
directions, which declare that "if any little boy have very fat legs
he shall not play the part of the cock." He made such amends as were
possible by the extreme vividness and energy of the beak with which he
kept the raven in order. At the back of the scene there were vague
indications of the presence of an ox and an ass. It had been intended
to represent them in a lifelike fashion by two heads; but these,
though ordered, had failed to arrive, being cut off on their way by
floods.
Now the shepherds burst into song, and when that was over the cock
flapped his wings and crew, and the raven cawed, and the lamb ba-a-ed,
and the uncompleted ox and ass made noises after their kind, and there
was a lively bustle everywhere, except where the angels watched and
waited with their hands crossed and their shining wings at rest. The
shepherds began to gossip as shepherds, I suppose, have gossiped ever
since the care of sheep began. One told how his grandam said, on the
authority of a wise woman, that on the night Messias is born all the
beasts shall speak. Another doubted whether this would hap in our
time. Nothing, he thought, would hap save these heavy taxings; but the
other reminded him that it had been a good year for sheep. But
suddenly, as the shepherds chatted, the three angels, invisible to the
shepherds, raised each a warning hand and bent forward and whispered,
"Hush-sh!" and an awe-struck silence fell upon the scene. Something
great and wonderful had happened, but what was it, and how would it be
revealed?
Thereupon the cock, flapping his wings, did not crow, but cried out,
"_Christus natus est!_ Christ is born!" and the raven, instead of
cawing, called "_Quando?_ When?" and the ass in a loud voice answered,
"_Hac nocte!_ This night!" and the ox said "_Ubi?_ Where?" and the
lamb stood up and bleated "Be-e-ethlehem." Oh, then was heard a
swelling sound of great exultation, and above the shed the dark and
starry skies were opened and drawn away to each side, and there were
disclosed angels raised up and standing in a long row, their bright
wings folded and pointing upward, while they declared the glory of the
Lord. And next the two guarding angels folded back the door of the
shed, and there were seen MARY and JOSEPH, "and betwixt them two"--I
quote from the directions--"the Holy Child lieth on a tuft of straw in
a little box which shall be called the Manger," while two diminutive
angels knelt, one at each side of the open door. No more beautiful and
gracious picture could be imagined. Thus might some old Italian master
have painted it, but this had, not colour alone and simplicity, but
life and song and jubilation and perfect harmony of movement so
natural as to seem unstudied. Then the shepherds did obeisance and the
Wise Men, MELCHIOR, CASPAR and BALTHASAR, came and offered their
gifts, and, last, after preparations had been made for departure into
Egypt, the whole company sang together the glorious and triumphant
"_Adeste, Fideles_," and the curtain drew down and the beautiful
masque was over. There was no applause--only a universal sigh of
contentment and admiration.
* * * * *
"Rudyard Kipling's 'The Camelion's Hump' was very well recited by
the whole school, every word being very clearly pronounced, and an
encore was called for but not acceded to."
_Times of Natal._
All the same there seems to have been one word which the reporter
missed.
* * * * *