DRAMATIC VENTURES
We are accustomed to think of the early New England life as offering
few expressions of artistic beauty, and there is much truth in this
view, for the thoughts of our forefathers were directed chiefly toward
theology. But we must never forget that those first adventurers came
from England during the greatest age of artistic expression that
England ever had, the time of Sidney and Spenser and Shakespeare. When
the New Englanders had become settled in their new home, had become
somewhat unified, that “fervid activity of an intense, newly-kindled,
peculiar and individual life” resulted in all sorts of out-croppings
of that desire for beauty invincible in the human soul. We should be
surprised to see how general were attempts in dramatic form. In all
the schools, in the homes, in the societies and lyceums everywhere,
original dialogues and plays were the order; and the Sunday school,
when invented, threw a generous mantle of charity over various
colloquies, symbolisms, moralities, and other kinds of dramatic
presentation.
In Miss Pierce’s school there were many exercises of this character.
Miss Pierce herself was devoted, like her nephew, to the English
classics; she was a good reader, given to quoting long passages of
poetry and making her pupils do likewise. To the compositions for gala
days, declamations, colloquies and dramatic sketches were added. Then
My name is Norval; on the Grampian hills
My father fed his flocks, etc.,
was invariably spouted. “The Will, or The Power of Medicine,” is the
subject of one play on record; also a colloquy on “Improvements in
Education.” A play called “The Country Boy” was given, in which the
characters were _John Hickory_ and _Hotspur_. In one called “The
Curfew,” the hero is a robber disguised as a minstrel. “The Combat,”
from “The Lady of the Lake,” was another favorite. Miss Pierce herself
wrote some very respectable dramas which the pupils presented in the
exhibitions at the close of school. On these occasions a stage was
erected, scenery was painted and hung in true theatrical style, while
all the wardrobes of the community were ransacked for stage dresses.
When the principal’s favorite, “Jephtha’s Daughter,” was given, the
Biblical hero, adorned with a helmet of gilt paper, surmounted by
waving ostrich plumes, strode grandly in, declaiming,
“On Jordan’s banks proud Ammon’s banners wave.”
There was a procession of Judæan maidens, bearing the body of
_Jephtha’s_ daughter on a bier after the sacrifice, and there was also
a procession of sympathizing youths. For this part of the program
the young students from the Law School came in very handy; and,
judging by the diary of one of them which has been lately exhumed and
published,[4] the young gentlemen of a hundred years ago were not so
different from those of to-day.
If one desired to know the type of a young man to be found in the
town of Litchfield during the time that Harriet Beecher and her two
sisters, Catherine and Mary, were a part of the social life there, one
may have recourse to this published journal. George Younglove Cutler
is the name of the writer, and, judging by the fascinating pages he
indited, the name was not wholly inappropriate. He had a vivid way
of writing, as if he were directly addressing the person to whom he
was speaking, and he writes in his vehemence with a sublime disregard
of punctuation. For instance, he says: “Miss M., you were becomingly
dressed last night because there was less _fix_ about you than common.
I like richness of dress but hate ribbons & bows & knots & ruffles &
rigmaroles generally speaking I dislike ornaments of any kind. To see
ladies loaded with as many kickshaws as are put on now-a-days looks
more like burlesque than reality!” Again he harps on the same string
when he says: “It is a very pretty thing, no doubt, to see a young
lady dressed with Parisian flowers & Parisian gauzes & an Indian fan &
the whole &c of fashionable array. But I question after all, the style
in which a young man of any understanding sees a young lady with most
danger to his peace.” Extremely critical as he is of the Litchfield
young ladies, Mr. Younglove himself betrays a touch of vanity. There
is a great deal of talk in his diary about his “adonizationizing” of
himself in his toilet--by which manufactured word he means “frushing
up,” “furbishing,” “making fix,” or “prigging.” Once he takes pains to
say: “It being Sunday, I wore pumps and white stockings to meeting.”
Again he records the sad news: “Tore my Angola pantaloons!” On one date
he sets it down with an outburst of enthusiasm: “To begin this great
day was powdered. Huzza!”
We may not know by what logic we reach the conclusion, but I believe
all will agree that the sort of young man self-depicted in this
long-buried, old diary could never have been averse to coming on
the stage as a robber in the disguise of a minstrel, or as a proud
_Jephtha_ in a gilt paper helmet declaiming in stentorian voice,
“On Jordan’s banks proud Ammon’s banners wave;”
and if George Younglove ever became in any way unruly, there was always
the overwhelming Miss Pierce, more powerful than any warrior, to bring
order out of chaos. The discipline that she gave to one youth of
George’s class is recorded. He gazed for something more than a minute
at one of the sacred members of her household, and the worst happened!
He was exiled. Surely not very frequently did anything take place to
bring so dire a fate upon a Litchfield youth!
But to come back to the play by Miss Pierce and the actors that
took part in it. They certainly did all the honor they could to the
dramatist. The costumes were copied out of the “Bible Dictionary”--with
the single exception, perhaps, of the nose-jewels--and the stabbing to
the heart and the chorus of wailing maidens were done to the life. In
this play the part of _Bethulah_, wife of _Jephtha_, was taken by “C.
Beecher,” as the list of actors shows, and she is on the stage most
of the time. Catherine also took a prominent place in the dramatic
representation of the beautiful story of Ruth. The story of Esther
the Queen was also enacted. Her majesty had a dress of old flowered
brocade from somebody’s wedding chest; _Mordecai_ and _Ahashuerus_
were appropriately enrobed, and the part of _Haman_--who was to be
hanged--was taken by the dog. At least this is the way Mrs. Stowe tells
about it, long afterward, in “Oldtown Folks,” but perhaps by that
time she may have forgotten some of the particulars as to the death
of _Haman_. For the plots of their plays, the young ladies in Miss
Pierce’s Seminary analyzed the stories in “Plutarch’s Lives,” and found
treasures there for dramatic representation from Romulus and Remus
down to Julius Cæsar. History in their own country came in for a share
of attention. Bunker Hill was done with a couple of old guns to give
effect to the scene and with the rolling of a cannon ball across the
floor behind the curtains to make the cannonades of battle. Harriet,
like _Tina_, a past master in getting up a cave of banditti, borrowed
suggestions from the “Mysteries of Udolpho,” and delighted one audience
with a playlet of the purest romance.
Those dramatic representations seem to have awakened no unfavorable
comment in the Beecher family so long as they were carried on under
the supervision of the Academy. But on an unlucky day Harriet’s
brilliant sister Catherine lighted upon a thrilling story in Miss
Edgeworth’s “Moral Tales,” called “The Unknown Friend,” which tells
how an attractive sixteen-year-old young lady was cured of a foolish
sentimentality. In this story _Angelina_, the heroine, reads a book
written by an unknown lady by the name of _Araminta_. This book speaks
extravagantly, and as it seems to _Angelina_ alluringly, of the charms
of friendship, and on the theory that one who wrote so feelingly of the
beautiful and romantic must be herself the embodiment of those traits,
_Angelina_ sets out to find this paragon, believing that in her she
will gain such a friend as she has dreamed of. After wandering futilely
for a time, she reaches a hut in the Welch mountains, where the writer
of the sentimental book has taken refuge. She finds in _Araminta_ a
disheveled, unlovely, forbidding person. Every sense of taste and
propriety is shocked, and they do not get on well together at all.
The story shows _Angelina’s_ complete disillusionment and the sorrows
that will come to one who disregards the practical side of life. The
incidents in this tale of Miss Edgeworth’s are ludicrous and the story
is not a bit tame. It might afford amusement even to-day.
The clever Catherine conceived the idea of making it into a play and
giving a happy surprise to the whole family by setting up the little
drama in the house itself. There were characters enough for every one
of the Beecher children to have one to himself--and that is saying
a good deal! There was also variety. The dialects used included
Welsh, Scotch, and broad Irish. The _Lady Diana Chillingworth_ and
her sister, the _Lady Frances Somerset_, trailed about in finery
extracted from mother’s band-boxes and chests. A palace, a mountain
top, a shop, afforded changes of scene that were easily designated in
true Elizabethan fashion by the use of a parlor table, or a kitchen
chair, or a set of shelves; and costumes were delightfully relied upon
to give aid to the imagination. Rehearsals were carried on in the
strictest secrecy for some weeks. The appointed evening came. Father
and mother wondered why a fire was built in the large parlor or why
so many neighbors and students happened to come in at about the same
moment; but before any questions could be asked, the door to the dining
room was suddenly thrown open and a mysterious drapery was seen at the
farther end of the room. The curtain rose and forthwith the actors
appeared and completed the whole drama amid thunders of applause--at
least so runs the account by an eye witness. The next day, however,
Catherine was told with some severity that while it was very good, they
must not do so any more!
When Catherine Beecher, the tragedy queen and star actress in all Miss
Pierce’s plays, went away to Hartford, she left a great vacancy in the
society of Litchfield; and when Harriet, author of the essay that had
astonished Dr. Lyman Beecher, departed, she carried with her a secluded
little ambition of which she spoke to no one. For in those days Harriet
was full of poetry and shyly entertained a dream that she herself might
join the glorious band of immortal poets. She was soon trying her hand
at blank verse, and she planned out a drama that should be written in
that form.
When at the age of about thirteen she was filled with her first
enthusiasm for classic lore, the subject of “Cleon” attracted her
dramatic instinct. Cleon was an historical person whose character and
problem were, not so very long after Harriet’s attempt, made the basis
of a noble poem by Robert Browning.
The story of Cleon is this: He was a Greek, living at the court of
Nero. This fixes the date for us as the first century of the Christian
era. He was a follower of the Greek gods, but he heard about Christ and
after much searching and doubting he at last came to a true knowledge
of Christianity. This transformation is the theme of Harriet’s play.
The scene opens in a street in Rome. Some Roman patricians, dressed
in their flowing togas, come upon the stage and discuss the lavish
entertainment that this wealthy Greek, _Cleon_, has been giving.
We shall live twice as fast while he is here,
says one of them.
By Bacchus, then we shall be lived to death;
I’m almost out of breath with living now,
declares the other. The first speaker continues the conversation,
describing _Cleon_ as one who has a thirst for pleasure so ravenous
that he works with hand and foot and soul, both night and day, to gain
diversion, and is so lavish of money that the Emperor Nero with all his
waste seems parsimonious compared to _Cleon_.
This is the picture of _Cleon_ given in the opening scene of the play.
In the next scene we find him reclining upon a luxurious couch in his
palatial apartment. Enter his old friend and teacher, _Diagoras_, who
has come from Athens to visit him. _Diagoras_ is amazed to see the
lavish richness and splendor of the house and the room. When _Cleon_
asks him politely to sit down, he answers that he cannot, for he does
not see any seat! _Cleon_ cries out that he thinks that _Diagoras_ must
have lost his eyes, and points out that there is in the room a fair
choice among some thirty different kinds of couches--couches of the
Phrygian and of the Grecian pattern, and many other kinds. _Diagoras_
is astonished when told that these beds adorned with pearls and gold
are made to sit on; he is, he says, a simple man, used to plain things,
and begs the pardon of _Cleon_ if he has been unappreciative. _Cleon_
thinks that behind this excuse his old teacher is displeased with him;
but, as it is, there is no choice between two evils: either _Diagoras_
must rest his philosophic feet upon that most profanely glittering
floor which is all inlaid with gems, or he must rest himself upon one
of those rich beds. _Cleon_ perceives that this jesting way of speaking
is giving pain to his good master, who should have known of old the
reckless tongue of _Cleon_. He assures _Diagoras_ of a hearty welcome
and begs him to sit down that they may have a long visit.
_Diagoras_ thereupon is made to recline upon one of the couches. He
proceeds to tell the cause of his disappointment in his pupil. He
has heard that _Cleon_ is the common talk of the city on account of
his evil ways, his rioting and his luxuriousness. He has heard that
his former pupil has become the companion of the very dross and dregs
of all mankind. _Cleon_ interposes, and asks if _Diagoras_ means by
the “dross and dregs” the Emperor Nero. _Diagoras_ will not answer
directly, but assures him that this is the tale that he has heard about
him. He exclaims:
Is this the Athenian Cleon, is this he
Who drank philosophy and worshiped virtue?
This he who triumphed in the Olympian race
Followed by wondering eyes?...
Rememberest thou the glory of those days?
he asks.
_Diagoras_ succeeds in calling the soul of _Cleon_ back from the
downward path that it is following. At last _Cleon_ exclaims that it
has been only a curse to him to have had so much wealth; he has striven
desperately to satisfy himself with the things that satisfy the common
crowd, but he has not succeeded.
As the play goes on _Cleon_ passes through a spiritual crisis and
becomes a Christian. Now this, we must remember, is the time of the
most extreme persecutions of the Christians. _Cleon_ is brought to
the supreme test that the followers of Christ were subjected to under
the persecuting monarch _Nero_. An on-looker describes the scene, and
tells us that _Cleon_ bore the ordeal with courage; he was steady and
undismayed; he declared his fixed purpose, saying that he was willing
to abide by whatever should come to him. The one who tells the story
says that _Cleon_ would have fared better if he had given a fiery
answer to the Emperor, for his very composure made _Nero_ mad and he
stamped his foot as a signal to the slaves to bring in the torture.
In the next scene _Cleon_ is led in by two soldiers. Though he is weak
and faint from the torture he has endured, he insists upon standing on
his feet. Harriet Beecher follows the historical tradition of _Nero’s_
character, in making him cause his friend _Cleon_ to suffer these
frightful agonies. The unspeakable Emperor now apologizes for the
severity of the torture, and assures _Cleon_ that he has only loving
intentions toward him. He gives him permission to keep his religion
if he will but consent to worship--privately! “Suppose you do call
yourself a Christian,” he says, “why need you let everybody know it?
Only be quiet about it and I will not interfere; worship in any way you
will, only let it be--out of my sight.” _Cleon_ then asks the Emperor
what he shall do if he is questioned about his faith. The Emperor
suggests that he should under those circumstances make up some “smooth,
decoying phrase” that would turn off the inquiry. _Cleon_ receives this
proposal with the shock that shows the inner truth of his nature. He
exclaims:
My lord, I scarce may trust myself to answer,
Since I have heard such degradation named.
In place of open bold apostasy
Thou dost propose an hourly, daily lie.
_Cleon’s_ whole nature revolts against anything so base. He declares
that it is his settled purpose while he lives to leave nothing undone
or untried to win everybody to the reverence for Christ that he has
learned to enjoy within himself. Thus he defies the Emperor and all the
world.
This drama which has many elements of nobility in it and which shows
a great deal of skill, filled Harriet’s waking thoughts and her
dreams at night, and for a long time she was joyously filling blank
book after blank book with the flowing lines. But the play was never
finished. Her sister Catherine pounced down upon her one day and told
her that she should not waste any more time writing poetry, but that
she should discipline her mind by the study of Butler’s “Analogy.” So
the obedient Harriet laid aside her loved play and began to write out
abstracts of the “Analogy.” Thus her dramatic aspirations were for the
time arrested. Catherine snuffed out the little light of her sister’s
budding poetic genius; or, rather, perhaps we should say that she
turned those powers in another direction; she saved and stored that
intellectual energy for a purpose of which neither of them had at that
time the remotest dream.