:iM 
 
 M 
 
 
 ,=i^ 
 
5fem iotfe 
 
 Hatt (SoUege of J^gticulture 
 
 Kt fifatnell Untuecaity 
 Jtljara, JS. $. 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PN 3203.C7 
 The dramatic festival:a_con^^^^ 
 
 3 1924 014 449 189 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924014449189 
 
The 
 Dramatic Festival 
 
 A Consideration of the Lyrical Method as a 
 Factor in Preparatory Education 
 
 By 
 Anne A. T. Craig 
 
 With a Foreword by 
 
 Percival Chubb 
 
 Leader, Ethical Society, St. Louis 
 And an Introduction by 
 
 Peter W. Dykema 
 
 Director of Music and Festivals at the Ethical Culture School in 
 New York City 
 
 G. P. Putnam's Sons 
 
 New York and London 
 
 ttbe iRnfcherbocRe); prew 
 
 1912 
 
Copyright, 1912 
 
 BY 
 
 ANNE A. T. CRAIG 
 
 This volume is copyrighted for the United States and for Great Biitain. The 
 text of the Plays and of the Festivals can he placed at the disposal of schools or 
 for performances by amateurs in consideration of a moderate fixed charge. The 
 Plays and Festivals are also available for use in theatres or on the professional 
 platform under a royalty arrangement. Application for the right of utilizing the 
 Plays or Festivals should be made to the author — Mrs. Anne A. T. Craig, igi 
 Lincoln Place, Brooklyn, N. Y. 
 
 11^ Iknfcficrbpcftcv pvcWf t^ew fiorit 
 
BevotcO 
 
 TO THE INTERESTS OF CHILDREN 
 AND TEACHERS WHOSE HOURS NEED 
 THE LEAVEN OF THE LYRIC ARTS NOW 
 FINDING ADJUSTMENT IN THE SCHOOL 
 THROUGH THEIR FOCUS IN THE FESTIVAL 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Foreword. Percival Chubb . . . . vii 
 
 Introductory Chapter. Peter W. Dykema . xi 
 
 Author's Preface xxiii 
 
 PART I 
 
 A DEPARTMENT FOR FOLK-PLAYS IN SCHOOLS 
 
 AND PLAYGROUNDS 
 
 I — A Department for Folk-Plays: Its 
 
 Organic Form . . . . i 
 
 II — The Administration of Class Work in 
 
 A Department for Folk-Plays . 22 
 
 III — Bibliography for Teachers . . 52 
 
 PART II 
 
 FORMS OF PLAYS AND FESTIVALS FOR THE 
 
 SUCCESSIVE SCHOOL PERIODS 
 
 Foreword ....... 67 
 
 I — Primary Period ..... 73 
 
 Appendix 90 
 
vi Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Grasshoppers and the Ants . 97 
 
 The Greatest Gift .... 107 
 
 Collections of Plays and Festival 
 
 Matter ...... 125 
 
 II — Intermediate Period .... 126 
 
 Appendix ...... 190 
 
 Minka's Wedding .... 193 
 
 Bibliography ..... 253 
 
 III — Final Preparatory Period . . 254 
 
 Appendix 281 
 
 The Course of True Love . . 285 
 
 Outline from Sannazzaro's "Arcadia" 325 
 
 The Pool of Answers . . . 327 
 
 Additional References . . . 355 
 
 Index 357 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 THIS book is, I take it, another expression of 
 the New Humanism in education, which bids 
 fair to transform our schools until they become 
 the homes and instrumentalities of a liberal cul- 
 ture. Our schools have not yet responded to 
 the tremendous changes which have come over 
 our social life within the past fifty years or more. 
 Educators have not yet sufficiently realised the 
 extent to which the older sources of popular and 
 folk culture have been destroyed and how seriously 
 our great modem cities and small modern homes 
 are lacking — both for young and old, but especially 
 for the young — in opportunities for the develop- 
 ment and nurture of the humanities. In play, 
 in amusements and recreations, in song and 
 balladry, in story-teUing, in festival and pageant, 
 much, very, very much, has been lost for which 
 no substitute has been found. 
 
 It sufficed in the old days to supply, through 
 the schools, what was necessary to enable the 
 child to master the simple processes in the three 
 R's. His culture he received outside the school 
 through the home and the social life and environ- 
 ment. All that has been changed. The school 
 
 vii 
 
Vlll 
 
 Fore-word 
 
 must now be the means of supplying most of this 
 culture, in addition to the elementary knowledge 
 and skill which the child needs for the purpose of 
 relating himself to life through the book, the pen, 
 and the mechanisms of reckoning. Thus the 
 school is becoming the custodian of much of the 
 play, the lore, the custom, and ritual of childhood, 
 which have always been the main agencies of 
 education ; and its new business is to hand on this 
 body of childish culture from generation to 
 generation. 
 
 Such are the facts which explain the continually 
 increasing burden which the school is called upon 
 to carry — all those "fads and frills" against which 
 our utilitarians have been crying out. What 
 these objectors to our miscellaneous curriculum 
 overlook is that these things are veritably the 
 bread of life for the child, quite as necessary as 
 all the proficiencies for which they clamour; be- 
 cause without them the powers of life, of emotion 
 and imagination and all the leisure accomplish- 
 ments which are essential to the development of 
 manhood and womanhood, must perish. The prob- 
 lem is a much larger one and a more profoundly 
 serious one than these critics of our modernised 
 schools realise. 
 
 The demand which this book voices may seem 
 to involve another and possibly intolerable expan- 
 sion of school work. Such expansion is, however, 
 inevitable; and it means a radical change in our 
 attitude toward the school and its functions. 
 
Fore-word 
 
 IX 
 
 So far, we have taken only a few first steps toward 
 the full and effective employment of the capacities 
 and aptitudes of the child for the purposes of its 
 education and humanisation. This volume looks 
 to a proper employment of its basic dramatic 
 instincts; and helps to bring home all that is 
 involved in these, and to indicate the culture 
 values of many kinds which they carry with 
 them. It brings us face to face with a conception 
 of culture which differs radically from the tradi- 
 tional scholastic ideal. The old classic ideal is no 
 longer appHcable. It must give way to one which 
 may none the less be justified by an appeal to 
 antiquity ; one the roots of which must be national 
 and native. Latin and Greek are obviously 
 doomed except for a small and select number of 
 students. Our schools must find compensating 
 values in the still living and appealing literature, 
 art, music, drama, story, folk-lore, folk-tradition, 
 and custom which are accessible in English, or 
 through English, our national language. We 
 must follow the Greeks, not by using their lan- 
 guage, but by emulating the spirit and methods 
 of their own nurture. We have an infinitely 
 richer storehouse to draw upon than they: what 
 we must learn is how to make it count as they 
 made their more limited stock count, in devel- 
 oping power and sensibility. 
 
 Mrs. Craig is a worker in the new field of child 
 culture. What she has written will speak for 
 itself, as indicative of the infinite riches contained 
 
X, Fore-word 
 
 in that type of culture which may be called, as 
 she has called it, "dramatic," dealing, as it does, 
 with the slighted potencies of childhood in mimetic, 
 lyric, and gestural capacity. Her cause is the 
 cause of letters in the deepest sense; that is, the 
 cause of song, story, and drama as children natur- 
 ally concern themselves with these. Hers is an 
 appeal to the creative capacity of the child and a 
 plea for the enhstmeht of those childlike interests 
 and that joy in activity which we have come to 
 recognise as the motive-powers in all effective 
 education. For these reasons, I respond to Mrs. 
 Craig's request to say a word or two to commend 
 her enterprise; and I would add a hearty wish that 
 her volume may serve to direct and stimulate 
 that type of education now striving to be born, 
 which I have called the "New Humanism." 
 
 Percival Chubb. 
 St. Louis, Mo., 
 i6 May, 1912. 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER 
 By Peter W. Dykema 
 
 TO the reflective visitor at Goethe's home in 
 Frankfort, there are few of the relics of him 
 which are more suggestive than his Puppen- 
 Theater. In his Wahrheit und Dichtung, he dis- 
 closes what a source, not only of pleasure, but of 
 education, this little stage with its paper and 
 wooden puppets was to him. As the boy made his 
 toys go through their parts he was unfolding the 
 many sides of his own personality; as the little 
 figures met and reacted upon each other and ex- 
 pressed their separate individualities, their young 
 director was expanding his capacities to embrace the 
 larger beings which the dumb actors represented. 
 With this plaything, he was acquiring not only, as 
 he says, technique which was to aid him in his later 
 'dramatic writings, but, more important from our 
 present point of view, he was laying the foundation 
 for that broad outlook on human actions which 
 made him one of the master thinkers of the world. 
 The public schools of this and other countries 
 have been curiously dilatory about utilising the 
 dramatic instinct as a means of general education. 
 For ages the drama has been one of the most 
 
xii Introductory Chapter 
 
 potent means of popular instruction. Its mes- 
 sages have dealt with every phase of human ex- 
 perience, from the highest aspirations of exalted 
 moments to the humblest aspects of every-day 
 work and play. Priest and strolling rfiinstrel 
 have invoked its aid ; king and peasant have shared 
 in its delights. Its widespread use and vmiversal 
 appeal have been due to many causes which need 
 not here be discussed. One point may however 
 be emphasised, namely, that the successful drama 
 always held its place because of its intrinsic merit ; 
 it was liked for its own sake and not because 
 of external encouragement or command. Unlike 
 many other educational agencies it was to the 
 people a welcome comrade, eagerly sought in- 
 stead of reluctantly accepted. The exclusion 
 from our modem schools of this potent means of 
 education is a tribute to the persistence of the 
 reactionary church influence of the Reformation 
 period, especially to that Puritanical point of view 
 which branded as dangerous all art subjects. As 
 a corollary there was deeply entrenched the hoary 
 notion that disagreeableness of attainment and 
 assimilation is about the truest measure of value. ' 
 Both in education and in medicine we have long 
 believed that the more bitter the dose, the better 
 it was for us. But in literature at least, the use 
 of the drama throughout many ages has abun- 
 dantly disproved this theory. Moreover, it 
 follows that some of our newer pedagogical doc- 
 trines, dealing with interest, attention, etc., are 
 
Introductory CHapter xiii 
 
 but revivals of ideas that have long been utilised 
 by astute teachers of the past. 
 
 At present we are in the midst of a strong move- 
 ment toward extensive use of dramatic forms in the 
 schools. This wave of enthusiasm has come sud- 
 denly. While in some of our more progressive 
 schools, festival work has been carried on consis- 
 tently for a decade or more, the present general 
 fervour that is sweeping the country is not to be 
 traced merely to these pioneer institutions. While 
 undoubtedly the gradually enlarging appreciation 
 of dramatic work as another manifestation of 
 motor expression has played a large part in this 
 movement, we must recognise a number of other 
 vitalising elements. We may mention the great 
 community dramas which Mr. Louis N. Parker 
 inaugurated with the Sherborne Pageant in 1905 
 and which have numbered twoscore or more 
 worthy followers in England and America; certain 
 social movements in our coimtry for wider public 
 recreation through social settlements and play- 
 ground centres; our Sane Foiirth propaganda; 
 out-of-door performances, particularly those by 
 the Ben Greet and the Cobum Players ; convenient 
 acting editions of Shakespearian and other plays 
 for older children, and various sets of dramatic 
 readers for the younger ones; such organisations 
 as the Theatre-goers Club, the American Play- 
 goers, the MacDoweU Club, the recently formed 
 and rapidly growing Drama League, etc. So we 
 might continue enumerating elements which have 
 
xiv Introductory Chapter 
 
 stimulated interest in using the drama, or rather 
 in acting the drama. To-day the schools of our 
 land, even in remote country districts, are finding 
 new meaning in Hamlet's enthusiastic exclamation, 
 "The play's the thing!" 
 
 This wave of devotion is not without its dangers. 
 Enthusiasm untempered by reflection and know- 
 ledge may make mistakes which vitiate many of 
 the values of the new work. Many of the more 
 recent comers in the school curriculum have fallen 
 into the disrepute implied in the term "fads and 
 frills" largely because of the haste of their advo- 
 cates, who made excessive claims concerning the 
 values of these subjects and who allowed them to 
 be introduced into the schools before the many 
 problems connected with the teaching had been 
 adequately considered. There is, doubtless, as 
 little probability that dramatic work wiU be cast 
 out of the educational programme as that music, 
 drawing, manual training, domestic science, and 
 the other non-3-r's will be dropped. But it 
 would be unfortunate if the permanent evolution 
 and installation of the latest claimant to the 
 brotherhood of school studies were attended with 
 aU the misunderstandings and mistakes which 
 have marked the efforts of the group just men- 
 tioned to enroll themselves. 
 
 This volume should aid in determining the place 
 of the dramatic festival in the schools. Mrs. 
 Craig through her dramatic training and her 
 general philosophical tendencies is able to see 
 
Introductory CHapter xv 
 
 and clearly point out the weakness that is liable 
 to appear in dramatic and festival work. She 
 rightly maintains that such failures as have 
 already resulted are due to false ideals, inadequate 
 preparation, and wrong methods. Both in schools 
 and in communities in which the festival has 
 fallen into disrepute — ^witness the stagnation in 
 many English towns in which the great pageants 
 rose and waned in a few brief years — the trouble 
 has been largely due to the overdoing of the 
 "show" side. Too much attention was paid to 
 the effect on the audience; not enough to the 
 reactions on the actors. Impressiveness of pro- 
 duct rather than soimdness of process has been 
 the guiding idea. Obviously this must spell 
 ultimate failure when, as in these non-professional 
 affairs, what the participants receive in return 
 for their labour is solely or largely the value in- 
 herent in preparing and performing the festival. 
 
 It is therefore necessary in considering the use 
 of dramatic festivals for schools and other edu- 
 cational institutions, to formulate the basis on 
 which the work shall rest and the best means of 
 carrying it out. The ever-increasing body of 
 festival workers will welcome the treatment of 
 this problem by Mrs. Craig. She quickly passes 
 beyond the conception of dramatic work as a 
 convenient device for producing a pleasant enter- 
 tainment and takes the position that it offers an 
 almost unequalled method for all-round culture; 
 a method for supplying in vivid form much of the 
 
xvi Introdxictory Chapter 
 
 intellectual material of the "regular subjects" 
 which is now frequently acquired in a confused 
 jumble; a method for heightening the interest in 
 all school work; and especially a method for doing 
 justice to that most neglected element in our 
 education — the training of the emotions. 
 
 Most of our educational efforts have been con- 
 tent if they have properly attended to the intel- 
 lectual side; the emotional elements, which in 
 reality are far more important in determining 
 character and action, have been left to shift for 
 themselves, practically unguided. The home and 
 the church have a difficult task to make up this 
 deficiency in training, especially when sensational 
 newspapers, highly coloured magazines and best- 
 sellers, tawdry popular songs, moving-picture 
 shows, the dance hall, and many other stimiilants 
 to a low or at least mediocre emotional life are 
 everywhere presented to the youth of the land 
 in attractive and easily accessible form. These 
 stimulants coupled with the lack of proper avenues 
 for healthful expression result in those pranks, 
 escapades, "mistakes," or something worse, by 
 our young people, which are the source of worri- 
 ment and even despair to parents and citizens. 
 The large army of tramps and young desperadoes 
 is recruited principally from boys who have been 
 deprived of proper emotional life; the ease with 
 which thousands of young girls enter into a way- 
 ward life is not so much an indication of human 
 frailty as of the craving for larger experiences. 
 
I ntrod victory Chapter xvii 
 
 Nor is poverty a sufficient explanation, for do not 
 the equally pathetic excesses of the over-rich 
 testify to the meagemess and shallowness of their 
 intellectual and especially of their emotional life? 
 Now it would be futile to assert that greater 
 use of dramatic work will alone remedy these 
 conditions. But it can do much. The impersona- 
 tion of other characters — ^in a word, dramatic 
 games and plays from the simplest pantomime 
 to the most involved drama — may well be called 
 the "safety-valve" of the emotional life. Yes, 
 it is more than that, it is really a generating power 
 for a fuU and controlled emotional life. Acting 
 a part not only allows the actor to vent his surplus 
 emotional energy in the carrying out of a character 
 which by its imaginative sweeps demands a larger 
 field of action than is usual in ordinary life, but, 
 at the same time, for its proper presentation, de- 
 mands losing one's self, or rather stimulating one's 
 self to such a point, that one will live the assumed 
 character. A boy who is to portray the knightly 
 Launcelot or Galahad; Joseph, resourceful in 
 trouble and generous in power; Robin Hood, 
 leading his gallant band; Patrick Henry, eloquent 
 in his patriotic fervour; the girl who is to present 
 Ruth, the devoted daughter; Demeter, the an- 
 guished mother; the beautiful princess of a thou- 
 sand fairy tales; or the heroic Joan of Arc — to 
 name only a few of the characters of childhood's fa- 
 vourite stories — must of necessity assume, and be, 
 temporarily, a larger personality than he or she 
 
xviii Introductory CKapter 
 
 usually is. The young actor must use all of his 
 ordinary self and more in order to be an adequate 
 knight, ruler, or whatever his part may be; the 
 young actress must be more of a woman if she 
 is to make her audience see in her the moving 
 qualities of her assigned character. This is one 
 of the fundamental functions of art, whether it be 
 drama, music, painting, sculpture, or any of the 
 others — so to fiU us with the high spirit of the art 
 product that, drawn up to it and identified with 
 it, some glow and inspiration of having been on the 
 heights will still thrill us after the exalted state 
 has passed away. 
 
 This assuming of new personalities is a perfectly 
 natural act. A little child dramatises his stories 
 and his songs,* and in a trice becomes a train, a 
 horse, a giant, a bird, a fish, or what not; he 
 rumbles, he clatters, he growls, he whistles, he 
 leaps, he moves his arms as if flying, he capers, 
 and makes other sounds and movements as a part 
 of his impersonation of objects and beings. These 
 spontaneous expressions of early childhood persist 
 more or less tenaciously into youth and even later 
 according to the character of the child and espe- 
 cially according to the kind of training he receives. 
 Kenneth Grahame in his Dream Days and The 
 Golden Age has given a typical example of the 
 rich flowering that is possible under favourable 
 conditions. But with even less encouragement 
 these spontaneous early expressions easily develop 
 into controlled characterisations, songs, dances. 
 
Introductory CKapter xix 
 
 and pictorial art forms. Every child has in 
 him the making of an actor, a singer, a dancer, an 
 artist — ^in short he has a lyrical side to his being. 
 Moreover the development of this aspect of him 
 is essential for joyous and yet controlled conduct. 
 For let no reader imagine "playing a part" is 
 merely a romp: even the child who is spontan- 
 eously impersonating so simple a part as a gal- 
 loping horse must choose his movements, must 
 reject many which are not in keeping with his 
 character. Let this impersonation progress through 
 the parts of the grocery-keeper, the family doctor. 
 Little Red Riding Hood, Santa Claus, the mis- 
 chievous brownies, and so on to some of the more 
 heroic characters mentioned earlier, and it is easy 
 to conceive the amount of self-discipline involved 
 in the successful portrayal of these varied per- 
 sonalities. Let any reader who doubts it try in a 
 number of characters himself to satisfy a youthful 
 audience ! 
 
 Not the least valuable part of this volume wiU 
 be fotmd in the three appendices. Here besides 
 helpful bibUographies are six plays Ulustrating 
 many of the problems discussed in the text. 
 As a dramatic writer, Mrs. Craig has a rare and 
 peculiarly poetic touch. The band of Irish players, 
 with their delightful plays, have made us feel 
 again the charm of that primitive and eerie quality 
 which we associate with the Gaelic temperament. 
 It is the characteristic which causes that wide- 
 eyed and open-mouthed deeply contemplative 
 
XX Introductory CKapter 
 
 attitude in little children, as they listen to an old 
 folk-tale, and which persists with all of us in 
 varying degrees however far .'n years we may be 
 removed from this period. For such as live in 
 this world of wonder all Nature is ahve with 
 mystery, and between her and the world of 
 mankind there is no great gulf. Nor for them are 
 the deeds of Humans so complex and troubled as 
 modem writers would have us believe. Life of 
 tree, of animal, of air and field spirits, of human- 
 kind is all an open book to these far-seeing simple 
 natures. Mrs. Craig knows this spirit and has 
 embodied it in many lovely bits of her plays. Con- 
 sequently they are not to be considered merely 
 as illustrative or suggestive. They are valuable 
 material, adapted, with slight alterations, for im- 
 mediate use in many schools and settlements. 
 
 This book is not a plea for "acting of plays" in 
 the usually understood sense of the term. It cer- 
 tainly does not commend the servile imitating of 
 a professional coach as he indicates inflection, fa- 
 cial expression, gesttire, position on the stage, etc. 
 There is already too much of this. Nor is it 
 merely a plea for freer oral English expression. 
 It is, to quote Mrs. Craig's sub-title, a plea for the 
 "lyrical method as a factor in preparatory educa- 
 tion. " Her volume is another statement of that 
 point of view which is gradually modifying the 
 teaching of aU the subjects in our schools, especially 
 the art subjects. Original composition in litera- 
 ture, in music, in drawing, and painting, in dancing 
 
Introdvictory CHapter xxi 
 
 — types of work which are becoming common in 
 our best schools — are all manifestations of what 
 Mrs. Craig asks for. This book comes at a time 
 when htmdreds of teachers are seeking guidance. 
 Through natural bent, and valuable training, Mrs. 
 Craig is adapted to be their guide. 
 
 New York, June, 1912. 
 
AUTHOR'S PREFACE 
 
 IN presenting this book I am aware that it 
 includes much material familiar to pioneers 
 in the field of aesthetic culture it deals with, and 
 also to those who have gained experience in the 
 field since it has been more widely incorporated 
 in school work. But I have prepared it with the 
 yotmg teacher in mind, and the normal-school 
 student. 
 
 It is the experience of those taking this work 
 up at all specially, to find themselves continually 
 turned to for help and information as to its ma- 
 terials and technic, by young teachers who are 
 now being expected to deal with the work in our 
 schools, yet who are practically without training 
 or experience in it. For although now for a long 
 time the need of scope for the aesthetic elements 
 in education has been recognised, and those 
 lyrical features representing them have entered 
 our school regime, there is yet no department 
 established in which training for them is focused, 
 and distinct from others. 
 
 In the school for children, not for training 
 teachers, there are properly separate departments 
 in which the different arts belong. But to focus 
 
 xxiii 
 
xxiv AvitHor's Preface 
 
 the results of training in these arts in the way the 
 festival and dramatic forms so valuably afford, 
 a special department in the teachers' training 
 school is needed to show the way, and has not 
 thus far been provided. In the teachers' training' 
 school the teacher may learn folk-dancing in 
 connection with athletics, oratory in the English 
 Department, music and graphic arts, also sepa- 
 rately. This is all very well, but now that she 
 is required when she graduates and becomes a 
 teacher, to administer a special work which re- 
 qtoires the correlation of these arts and intellect- 
 ual studies in a special way, another department 
 of training is needed for that purpose. Without 
 it, as at present, she must originate the process 
 herself through experiment, and necessarily mis- 
 takes, at the expense of her pupils. It is undoubt- 
 edly good for her to be obliged to originate in this 
 way, but she might with no loss to herself, but 
 to her advantage as well as that of her pupils, 
 begin her development of originative powers in 
 the training school rather than afterwards. It 
 is because aU women have a natural instinct for 
 story-telling and game-playing with children, that 
 they get on at all in the present fuller application 
 of aesthetics through festival work and dramatics 
 in the schools; but needless to say, better than 
 haphazard work can be done with such a depart- 
 ment. At present it is left so to chance in many 
 schools, that the possibilities for developing a 
 splendid part of culture go largely to waste. 
 
AutKor's Preface xxv 
 
 My object, therefore, in preparing this book, was 
 to suggest at least one consistently worked out 
 method for administering such work. If the sug- 
 gestion it presents does not seem directly avail- 
 able as a plan upon which to base a department 
 of training in normal schools, it may at least 
 carry some useful hints to the young teachers who 
 find themselves in need of suggestions, as those 
 who have come to me directly for them have 
 been. 
 
 An indication of the wish among teachers for 
 special training in this field of work was plain 
 in the enthusiasm with which a Department of 
 Festivals allied to the University of Wisconsin, 
 last summer, was received by the summer-school 
 students there. It was instituted by Mr. Bassett 
 of the University and Mr. Dykema of the Ethical 
 Culture School, New York, and is now an under- 
 stood part of the summer schedule. To better 
 study the correlation of aesthetic departments of 
 educational work, towards making their values 
 most telling in connection with schools, public 
 recreation, and civic festivals, the Festival Society 
 was organised the past year in New York. Its 
 executive membership is limited to active workers 
 in these special educational fields, with an associate 
 membership of those in allied fields, and through 
 combining such specialised effort, valuable work 
 should be accomplished after a while towards 
 focusing school and community work in this field 
 of lyric arts and festivals, and organising its 
 
xxvi AutKor's Preface 
 
 administration until it justifies itself as a special 
 means of public culture and social betterment. 
 
 Such university extension cottrses as that at 
 Madison, and the formation of groups like the 
 Festival Society for co-ordinating and focusing 
 this work, promise help to the needed methodis- 
 ing of teachers' festival departments, and towards 
 plans of preparatory training courses for them in 
 the work. 
 
 I would say here that in this small preliminary 
 contribution to the subject I present in this book, 
 my special aim in developing its plan has been 
 to emphasise the value of correlating choice of 
 material with the personal needs the child's 
 stages of development indicate and with a certain 
 particularity that other departments of work may 
 not always seem to demand. I have indicated 
 how this may be done with the sort of material 
 I have chosen as illustrative. The principle may 
 be followed with other ordering and selection of 
 material, but I think it will be found a principle 
 worth considering. The secondary aim has been 
 to maintain in the scheme of work a close connec- 
 tion between the material chosen and the special 
 centralisation of work in the arts, which is neces- 
 sary for festival purposes, and which centraKsa- 
 tion, indeed, is the festival's greatest value. 
 
 Further, for kind permission to use excerpts 
 from other works in this volume, I take pleasure 
 here in acknowledging mj?^ indebtedness to: Dr. 
 Douglas Hyde, for passages from his Literary 
 
AvitKor's Preface 
 
 XXVll 
 
 History of Ireland, and to the publishers of the 
 volume, Messrs. T. Fisher Unwin, London, and 
 Charles Scribner's Sons, New York; to Messrs. 
 Charles Scribner's Sons, again, for the use of 
 passages from Paul du Chaillu's Viking Age; to 
 Mr. Redfern Mason for passages of text and music 
 from his Song Lore oj Ireland, published by Wessels 
 & Bissell; to the J. B. Lippincott Co. for the use of 
 passages from their edition of Dr. Karl Mantzius's 
 History of Theatrical Art, translated by Louise von 
 Cossel; and to Dr. Leo Wiener for permission to 
 make a metrical version of the translation of The 
 Word of Igor's Troop in his Anthology of Russian 
 Literature, as also the use of occasional notes 
 throughout the poem ; for the use of these excerpts 
 from the Anthology I am also indebted to 
 Messrs. G. P. Putnam's Sons, the publishers of 
 the volume. 
 
 Aside from the advantage of using excerpts 
 from the above volunies to illustrate points in my 
 present book, I wish to acknowledge the aid to 
 research which they have afforded me in certain 
 departments of my special work, and in my text 
 I commend them especially to teachers for this 
 reason. 
 
 I am indebted to the publishers of the modem 
 edition of Purchases Pilgrims for the quotation 
 of a passage from that work. 
 
 My thanks are due as well to Messrs. Ives & 
 Butler for the right to use again in this volume my 
 paper on the organisation of a department for 
 
xxviii Author's Preface 
 
 folk-plays, which appears in the April, 1912, issue 
 of their publication, Educational Foundations. 
 
 Finally, but especially, I wish to express my very 
 grateful appreciation of the kind commendation 
 and encouragement of my effort to contribute at 
 least a tentative plan of organisation for certain 
 departments of this valuable field of culture, 
 accorded me by Mr. Peter W. Dykema, and Mr. 
 Percival Chubb, and their friendly help in its 
 behalf. 
 
 A. A. T. C. 
 
 New York, February, 1912. 
 
The Dramatic Festival 
 
The Dramatic Festival 
 
 PART I 
 
 A DEPARTMENT FOR FOLK-PLAYS IN 
 SCHOOLS AND PLAYGROUNDS ' 
 
 ITS ORGANIC FORM 
 
 WE have seen the value of play in educational 
 development; that its processes are like 
 those of work, and differ only in so far as work is 
 bent towards a direct concrete result, while play 
 is primarily aimless. Yet play has a valuable 
 effect upon the growth of the playing child, while 
 all through this tmconscious process his faculties 
 are being made adept and facile for work. 
 
 Music has always had its place in the schools, 
 but it has taken longer to give a place to its natural 
 accompaniment, dance, — dance, which has every- 
 thing gymnastics and calisthenics can give, with 
 
 ' Published in Educational Foundations, Ives & Butler, New 
 York, April, 19 12. 
 
 I 
 
2 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 that necessary human thing, joy, added, — to give 
 it true vitality. Dance and song are the first 
 steps of expression of happy healthy spirits, follow- 
 ing the formless expressions of the play instinct in 
 the aimless tumblings and rompings and skippings 
 of very little children. Mimicry, childish panto- 
 mime, "make-believe" plays, together with the im- 
 pulse to bring into regular rhythms their instincts 
 for lively movement until dances grow to match 
 the measures of music, all these are the first grop- 
 ings towards definition in personal expression, 
 towards beauty, and intelligible form; and from 
 these grows readily the childish drama, the love of 
 "acting-out" the stories they read, the doings of 
 the grown-up world over again. So much has 
 been written and said of late years of the use of 
 this "dramatic instinct" in children, as an edu- 
 cational force, that it is not necessary even to sum 
 it up here. We have now for some time intro- 
 duced it in our school work as accessory to some 
 of our studies, and as recreation, or for holiday 
 exhibitions. 
 
 That this element in school work has been 
 coming to the fore widely in the last few years 
 is something to be glad of, but to advocate full 
 appreciation of its value and better organised and 
 more comprehensive method for it as employed in 
 school processes does not mean that it wotdd be 
 well to specialise its use in a way to seem to turn 
 schools into training classes for the theatre, nor 
 to have the matter entered upon with dramatic 
 
Department for FolK-Plays 3 
 
 art as an object in itself. But its employment 
 as a means to the end of a richer educational 
 process has values now no longer doubted, and its 
 varied possibilities are open to fruitful discussion. 
 There remains much to be said respecting the re- 
 lation of this work, with all it may imply, not only 
 to the studies of the school regime, as illustrative, 
 but to the aesthetic growth of the child. 
 
 We are coming to imderstand how far from a 
 complete, harmonious development of the child 
 our school S3^stem now brings about, as it stands, 
 and in our attempt to better it we must discover 
 more and more definitely that it is the tem- 
 peramental side, the side through which the soul 
 moves us as human beings, that we are most 
 neglecting, and we must next slowly see how the 
 arts are the human means of the soul's expression 
 through the temperamental powers. It is exactly 
 this need that has been creating the inner human 
 urgence which has brought about what we now 
 call the Psychology of Pedagogy. 
 
 Of all the arts, those coming nearest to the 
 child's first instinct for temperamental, or let us 
 say, more simply, personal expression, in play, 
 are: — dramatic art, — the lyric arts, — those that 
 require personal action, vocal expression, to carry 
 them out. We know the stages of activity the 
 child goes through as his plays and games begin to 
 take on coherence, — ^how from his baby-pretending 
 that he is a horse, dog, or soldier, he and his little 
 companions act out made-up adventvires that are 
 
4 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 more and more like complete stories; and how from 
 running and racing aimlessly about, the touch of 
 music inspires them to march rhythms and to the 
 first joyous incoherent little jumps and steps and 
 whirlings, and rudimentary snatches of song, which 
 forecast later enjoyment of rhythmical dance and 
 song forms which are to give, stiU natural, but 
 more beautiful, conventionalised vent to the exu- 
 berance of healthy young spirits. We are com- 
 ing to see what Nature has been trying to say 
 to us through all these manifestations of childish 
 energy, and we are no longer cruelly suppressing 
 them, but giving them their due through a realisa- 
 tion that they are the natural way of awakening 
 and energising all the faculties of the young child 
 and getting him in symmetrical trim for the later 
 demands life is to make upon him. 
 
 Considering these things, and granting the value 
 of the dramatic, the lyrical play as a first all- 
 around personal gymnastic and aesthetic culture 
 — we may go on and see some further ranges of 
 its usefulness which are come upon in the course 
 of its administration, and which carry the pupil 
 into the stages of intellectual education. 
 
 Pantomimes, games, dances, and spontaneous 
 make-believe plays appropriately open such a 
 department of work — or recreation work — in the 
 early primary stages. Children take up these of 
 their own accord, naturally, in their playtime by 
 themselves, and teachers are beginning to give 
 them place in the moments of recreation in school 
 
Department for FolK-Plays 5 
 
 hours. The children may be given stimulus for 
 these directions of their play, later, by their studies 
 — history, geography, reading, and story-telling, 
 — and teachers do so give it, as a rule. There 
 has not yet been, however, any series of plays or 
 any organic scheme arranged, or at least pub- 
 lished, with the special purpose of developing 
 the values in this department of work as a field 
 in itself. That is to say, it does not need to be 
 only an accessory; it can suggest altogether too 
 many things on its own account. It may project 
 a plan all its own for bringing to the school child- 
 ren glimpses of the ways of folk in .other lands and 
 at other periods, as well as making them observant 
 of their own times and people, while it gives them 
 a broader development of their faculties than any 
 other one thing can do. For this reason it can 
 do best free of any prescribed history cotirses in 
 its original project, although its context, in a pro- 
 jected plan, might always be utilised to advantage 
 for illustrative work with history and literature. 
 
 It has seemed that such a scheme clearly laid 
 out might be useful as a working basis, however 
 it were employed, as accessory or special, and the 
 present outline is suggested as a possible help 
 towards such an organised plan. A first sugges- 
 tion, however elementary, often suggests further 
 development, or better ideas, and so may serve 
 to more definitely point out latent possibilities. 
 In this special work there are unlimited ones which 
 attention will readily bring out. I have adopted 
 
6 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 the name of a Department for Folk-Plays, because 
 that seems to indicate rather happily what Adstas 
 it might open, and in accordance with my idea 
 of it I range an amount of material, certain com- 
 positions already known, classics and standard 
 works, which apply to the scheme, and in the 
 appendix to section II of Part II give an example 
 of a folk-play which includes folk material in a 
 way which I believe can be particularly useful. 
 
 For special story-telling in a period in which the 
 children give free play to their active expression 
 and fancy independent of prescribed lessons in 
 history and other studies, it is to be supposed that 
 the teacher would herself make some regular plan 
 of the kind of stories she chooses, and their pro- 
 gression and relation, so that at the end of a series 
 the children would have a consistent knowledge 
 of some chosen subject. Introduced in the field 
 we are considering, it would properly be a series 
 to stimulate fancy, and the wish for expression in 
 action. 
 
 But for such material, a simple outline of the 
 syllabus beginning mth the later primary years' 
 in this field might begin with: 
 
 Fables: .^Esop's; of Bilpai (East Indian); 
 Reynard the Fox, too — even if this last carries a 
 satire which the children cannot fully fathom, be- 
 cause the animal stories in its series are delight- 
 fvd fables in themselves. This last, Reynard the 
 
 'As it will be detailed more fully in Part II, I do not recom- 
 mend this ready-made story material till the later primary years. 
 
Department for FolK-Plays 7 
 
 Fox, might be given not only in the translation of 
 the Goethe version, but in German, as also La 
 Fontaine's are sometimes given in French in 
 schools, — for this hour might well be made to 
 serve for the much needed and sometime discussed 
 work in foreign languages in this period of the 
 cliild's school-life, when more than at other times 
 languages are most readily acqmred by the natural 
 method of conversation, and the sort of reading 
 that arouses desire to translate. There are some 
 of the modem animal stories, too, which may be 
 used in this way, and which give, entertainingly 
 for children, instructive glimpses of animal ways.. 
 In addition, fairy-tales and folk-myth make an 
 unending supply. But in accordance with the 
 plan I have in mind, I would choose the tales 
 of one people at a time, making each series of them 
 long enough to impress its character on the child- 
 ren, before another series was begvm. Young 
 children are very literal; with them it is better 
 to begin with what is most familiar and progress 
 to the more remote. A progression with them 
 will be more geographical than historical. Begin 
 at home, mth stories of the people about them, 
 their doings; then stories of the historj'- that has 
 brought about their own environment, and after 
 that the folk-tales and the history stories related 
 to each other, in the order of their relation to the 
 history of their own country, and what is near at 
 hand. I would suggest this order from the first, 
 for instance : First, nature stories of animals, in- 
 
8 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 sects, flowers, the elements, as the children see 
 and know them; next, the simplest fables, espe- 
 cially such as deal with famiUar things of nature, 
 and animals' ways, which is an easy step from the 
 first direct nature stories, to the use of them figura- 
 tively, to illustrate an idea; then next, more 
 personal incidents of the children's own environ- 
 ment, followed afterwards by the history stories 
 and folk-myth of those peoples related to us, in 
 the order in which their relation is most apparent 
 to the children; beginning for instance with our 
 own country, with the stories of our pilgrim ances- 
 tors, and the myth that has grown in instances 
 about their doings, as in the case of Henry Hudson 
 and his men playing at bowls in the Catskills, 
 and then of Rip van Winkle. Such related myth, 
 history, and classic literature can be carried out in 
 thousands of instances. What examples suggest 
 themselves to me for this outline, I will give; all 
 teachers have thought of and will think of many 
 more. Suppose then we choose the Red Indians. 
 We will tell their true history, and their relation 
 to the newcomers to this country, in one little 
 series of stories, and associate their historical 
 stories wherever it is pertinent, with their myth, 
 the introduction of examples of their music, their 
 songs, accoimts of their customs, their crafts, — ■ 
 as those of the Arizona Indians, particularly; 
 the relics of unknown races of them, — as of the 
 Mound Builders. If this seems to lead the 
 teacher ftext to the Mexican and South American 
 
Department for FolK-Plays 9 
 
 early Indian civilisations, those of the Aztecs and 
 Incas, she may follow the same plan in series for 
 them. This will bring her in touch with the 
 Spaniards, and from them easily to the other 
 European continental nations. The French, Dutch, 
 Scandinavians, and the rest, however, who were 
 the main ones in our congregation of ancestors, 
 the teacher may appropriately have made her 
 series bring in earlier than the Indians if she has 
 so preferred, and then she may continue with 
 more remote nations afterwards. In this way a 
 series may finally include all the peoples. It will 
 be seen that this is a kind of Folk-Group method, 
 in historical and geographical relations. 
 
 These simplest forms of stories, games, dances, 
 songs, and plays might cover progressively the 
 period from seven or somewhat younger to twelve 
 or fourteen years of age, and include what we call 
 the primary and intermediate or "grammar school " 
 grades. 
 
 We will suppose the hour given to this is opened 
 by the teacher with the narration of the chosen 
 history incident, folk-tale, or literary selection, or 
 the correlation of all the three which she may have 
 chosen, and that then from this the children are 
 asked to decide upon some form of expression of 
 the narrative's context. They may choose an 
 idea for a dance, a game, childish songs, from it, — ■ 
 or to act it; and to whatever form of expression 
 they choose, the remainder of the hour will be 
 given. Where it is interesting to discuss the 
 
10 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 "properties" for their game or play or dance, and 
 to introduce special customs and modes of dress 
 and speech, the teacher may illustrate these before 
 the class with pictures, actual specimens when 
 possible, and with makeshifts for costuming from 
 things at hand, or that the pupils can find at 
 home; so that the impressions may become more 
 lifelike and interesting to the class. If the child- 
 ren want to carry out their idea with some elabo- 
 ration, — always barring expense, of course, — let 
 them do so, and help them, and let each game 
 or play or dance, or whatever form the expres.sion 
 takes, cover as many recreation hours as it needs ; 
 even a week or so of these periods for one subject 
 may not be too long. The good of letting the 
 children get them up as interestingly as they can 
 and wish to, is much greater than it can be if set 
 times are doled out for each story of the series. 
 One may properly need a long, another a shorter 
 time, but if the children are allowed to satisfy 
 themselves with the result, each will leave a 
 definite and interesting impression. The pre- 
 paration and painting of the scenery and its frame- 
 work may well be done in periods for manual 
 training and dramng and colour work, and it is 
 so done in some schools now. All such depart- 
 ments of work added to or associated with this 
 one, increase its value in the child's culture, — 
 and the work deserves this scope. Detail relative 
 to such association of this work with other depart- 
 ments is given in section III of Part II, and 
 
Department for FolK- Plays ii 
 
 also in the paper on the administration of class 
 work. 
 
 With older classes this recreational study of 
 races, the form which it would seem this depart- 
 ment of culture may most interestingly and 
 appropriately take, — since drama is an active 
 personal expression of the phases of human life, — 
 may take its development in the same manner 
 as in the earlier classes, except for selection of 
 episodes, folk-lore, and literary productions of an 
 order suited to the advanced period of the school 
 grades, or it may very interestingly and valuably 
 take its course from the more abstract historical 
 view, along the lines of racial progressions, as one 
 theory stands, beginning with our Aryan ancestors 
 in Persia; or in the European steppes, — if that 
 theory appeals most to the teacher. However 
 open to change the theories of racial progressions 
 have been, and may still be, — along the main 
 lines of the accepted ones, at least, the develop- 
 ment of literatures, arts, and governments may be 
 very consistently followed. 
 
 In the primary years the pupils will perhaps 
 have become acquainted in these recreation 
 periods with the simpler myth and the main 
 incidents in the histories of the peoples about the 
 globe, — supposing this plan here suggested is 
 followed, — but now they may take the more 
 complex historical developments of the nations, 
 their clashes, interferences, conquests, decadence; 
 glimpses of their epochs of brilliance through 
 
12 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 the famous romances of their ancient chronicles. 
 They may begin to see them in the actual epic 
 sweep of their migrations, colonisation, and in- 
 teraction in such a way as to begin to understand 
 how our present world has been built up, and its 
 civilisation developed, and what will be the forces 
 of its future building. 
 
 The periods for this may still be called a recrea- 
 tion time, as before, and the ordering of it be after 
 the same plan. The teacher in her progressive 
 stories may make plain the influence of the peoples 
 on each other's movements, and the effects of 
 physical conditions; the resultant myth, customs, 
 and character. 
 
 With these older pupils the teacher may intro- 
 duce the romance of the history of the peoples, 
 their poetry and arts, in the advanced stages more 
 perfected and advanced than those producing the 
 ranges of decorative and industrial arts to which 
 the younger children's attention was mainly di- 
 rected. For at this later period of school-life is 
 dawning in the children the sentiments of adoles- 
 cence, to which is natural a love for romance, 
 poetry, and the beauties in the manifestations of 
 art; sentiments that should be given fiiU response, 
 if life thereafter is to unfold richty for the child. 
 
 This in fact is the simple principle of the whole 
 idea for the administration of such a department ; 
 that, as it is a department for active, joyftd, full 
 personal expression in forms of art, it shall take 
 for its suggestion and stimulus the active, personal 
 
Department for FolK-Plays 13 
 
 life story, and the expressional art story of the 
 races. The natural correspondence in the racial 
 story and expression with the development of the 
 individual child, must make the introduction of 
 this story in his culture fit most naturally his own 
 developing instincts for expressing himself through 
 his energies and faculties, and it will give him rich 
 material to serve his wish for expression, and help 
 him focus its forms. Perhaps nothing helps us 
 to find ourselves and to focus our capacities, more 
 than scope for expression in the arts, — and in 
 such an hour as I can foresee this hour for folk- 
 plays and kindred forms might become, there is 
 not one of the faculties that would not be given 
 play, — no aesthetic perception that would not 
 be developed and refined. The crafts, including 
 mechanics and simple carpentry for the prepara- 
 tion of stage scenes and properties ; dramng, colour, 
 decoration, ornament; appreciation of art forms, 
 through the illustrative exhibition of pictures and 
 specimens of the crafts of peoples, that teachers 
 and scholars might collect; as also instinctive 
 feeling for art forms that practice in dance and 
 the symmetrical movements of games, and the 
 needed accord of action in dramas, however simple, 
 bring to the participants; strength and health 
 of body which belong always with grace, which 
 dance and dramatic action — the best of all gym- 
 nastics — bring; and the use of the voice, for 
 beauty as well as for clearness; the appreciation 
 and constant use of good speech; the appreciation 
 
H 
 
 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 which must come increasingly from the familiarity 
 with good literary and poetic forms, and which 
 stimulates the creative poetic gift, — these are the 
 elements of culture which it plainly includes. In 
 fact the most splendid thing of all that this would 
 do, woiald be, first to give scope to the full, free 
 development of the child in the three inseparables 
 of beauty, health, and grace, with faculties all 
 elastic, freed, and ready to do with eagerness and 
 vigour whatever chosen work should eventually 
 disclose itself before him; and second, to stimulate 
 his creative gifts for strong individual expression, 
 so that he shall be helped to find and recognise 
 his special individual work and focus his powers 
 freely upon it with strong initiative and joyous 
 originality. 
 
 It will not be forgotten by any practised teacher 
 that, in the conduct of such hours, a little question- 
 ing wiU often lead the class itself to contribute 
 much unexpected and entertaining information 
 about the subject in hand, — of relics, of travel, of 
 home reading. In this country where we have such 
 a metiley of races, children often contribute val- 
 uable data concerning the customs of out-of-the- 
 way places in "the old country." 
 
 It will also be remembered that, since the object 
 of such a department of work would be primarily 
 to encourage and develop powers of expression in 
 the piipils, each narrative of the series presented 
 by the teacher must contain some striking inci- 
 dents, some description of interesting customs, or 
 
Department for FolK-Plays 15 
 
 introduce some production of the arts, Kterature, 
 poetry, industrial occupation, or music, to be 
 material for games, youthful dramas, dances, 
 rondes, childish cantatas, or recitations. The con- 
 ventionalisation of the game and dance forms 
 it is interesting and profitable to give the pupils 
 every opportunity to work out from their own 
 fancy. Help them to reduce their ideas finally 
 to order, if need be, but let them take the initiative. 
 It is especially valuable, also, to let them formulate 
 dance steps and rhythmic bodily movements spon- 
 taneously as the teacher plays one and another 
 kind of composition. Audible rhythms and phy- 
 siological rhythms act and react to develop the 
 primitive dance; emotions and ideas respectively 
 inspire and define their forms and force. Things 
 should not always be presented to children ready- 
 made; they should often be given opportun- 
 ity and encouragement to invent their games 
 themselves, compose their plays, songs, choruses, 
 and operettas, in their own childish ways, and to 
 improvise their own dances to express their fancies, 
 or the natural impulses stirred by music of dif- 
 fering rhythms. Relative to this point, we may 
 consider what we now call Greek dances. We 
 must believe that the Greeks were as sensitively 
 spontaneous as any people could be; as expressive 
 of youth and freshness. We reconstruct their 
 dances from the fragmentary scraps of art relics 
 they have left us. A dance, a dramatic gesture 
 in a choral movement, caught in a picture or a 
 
1 6 THe Dramatic Festi-\sal 
 
 stone, can be related to a whole only by a-perfect 
 assthetic sense as to what the progression of move- 
 ment from first to last must have been to pro- 
 duce it in a certain part of a dance. One must 
 be as an eesthetologist, what Cuvier was as a 
 naturalist, to do it! That is, to do it without 
 the aid of human illustration and experiment. 
 The sesthetologist can be supplied with this, if 
 Cuvier could not be with his primeval specimen. 
 The unerring response to such experiment will be 
 in scope for spontaneous expression in dance 
 forms. Without a thought of attempting to copy 
 Greek dances, we may through spontaneous experi- 
 ment be actually doing over again just the kind 
 of dances that, attempted otherwise, we are re- 
 constructing quite wrongly because artificially, 
 from fragmentary knowledge unrelated to con- 
 sistent development of expressional gesture in 
 any choral form. For the forms of gestural 
 expression, spontaneously produced, grow of course 
 from the same principles with all human beings; 
 but we can never find out these principles truly 
 ■^vithout studying expression, spontaneously aroused 
 and developed without self -consciousness or in- 
 struction. No true form of dance, or in fact 
 of drama, or any art, can be developed without 
 understanding these principles as nature" shows 
 them, and as they can be discovered from spon- 
 taneous processes. 
 
 When there is a special room and a specially 
 allotted time for such a department in the schools. 
 
Department for FolK-Plays 17 
 
 just as there is already a gymnasium and a manual- 
 training room, and in some schools a swimming- 
 pool, one can see for it a little museum of its 
 own gradually collected, of the specimens of inter- 
 esting products of the varied folk of the world, or 
 of properties made by the children to represent 
 things used by foreign peoples, their costumes, 
 and whatever has contributed to the historical 
 or lifelike representation as "properties" for the 
 scenes of the plays or dances or whatever. There 
 will also be copies of famous pictures on the walls, 
 where such have helped to bring the reality of the 
 subjects introduced, to the classes, as also books 
 of reference gradually collected for use in these 
 series, of narratives which are to be illustrated 
 in beautiful forms of activity, and also, perhaps, 
 copies of compositions in music and dramatic 
 form, original with the children themselves! It 
 would be a museum worth a visit, and the children 
 who had helped to make it would have interesting 
 acquirements accordingly. 
 
 A bibliography is given, to serve as a pointer 
 for such a course of teacher's reading as may help 
 a consistent progression in the work of a depart- 
 ment of this kind. Every teacher will select and 
 develop his own to fit the particular needs of 
 his classes, but a hint of one formula is usually 
 effective in stirring the invention of others. The 
 following one is presented only as one such hint. 
 
 The bibliography is arranged after such a 
 scheme as will seem likely to bring to the teacher 
 
1 8 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 for his store of material: first, in each section 
 of the list, the historic basis for his folk-group; 
 (second) folk customs, racial tendencies, and 
 racial expression, as affected by locality, environ- 
 ment, and external race influences, and expressed 
 again in myth, customs, arts, and industries; 
 (third) striking historical episodes, with the im- 
 portant personalities standing as their exponents; 
 and (fourth) the romance of history and litera- 
 ture, with the classic forms of the arts. To this 
 are added, usually, references to writings which 
 give atmosphere and colour to present-day customs 
 of the various countries, and make their locality 
 more vivid. 
 
 The bibliography is not exhaustive, by any 
 means ; it merely aims to name a few of such books, 
 standard and miscellaneous, in each department 
 of the progression, as shall indicate to the teacher 
 the trend of essential study for it. The selections 
 for the most part, as will be seen, are for the 
 teachers themselves, and to give them a store 
 for their own choice of narrative, or from which 
 to recommend reading to their classes, for home or 
 school hours. 
 
 While it is not necessarily to be expected that 
 the comparatively young teachers in our public 
 schools would have given exhaustive reading to 
 the great historians, it should be expected of them 
 that they know how to use them generously for 
 reference, and that they have already used them 
 so before beginning practical work in teaching 
 
Department for FolK-Plays 19 
 
 such a course as this, here laid out. It is to the 
 great historians we must go for the real substance 
 and riches of historical writing; for the epic sweep, 
 the understanding of humanity in its struggHng 
 growth; the power of correlation of aU parts of 
 civilisation's progress; the rich flow of anecdote 
 and illustration; all those things that come readily, 
 and therefore most delightfully, only from minds 
 most splendidly stored. Not for nothing are they 
 "great historians"; it is for their understanding 
 of Man, — their real touch of life. This perhaps 
 needs to be said to the young teacher, who turns 
 away rather fearfully from the rows of ponderous- 
 looking volumes to some of the superficial, abridged 
 "outlines," — ^really published merely for the 
 convenience of making a first skeleton upon which 
 to build more, and to fill in with the real living 
 pictures of the peoples. From these "outlines," 
 if one used only such, one must txuTi away un- 
 satisfied, longing for that charm, that romance, 
 that breathing life that the true historians have 
 caught, that make their heavy looking volumes 
 the only real treasure-houses of enchanted lore. 
 It is only those who have caught this enchantment 
 and tell it who have stood out from among the 
 annalists of men's ways. It is good advice to the 
 yoimg teacher to go, too, to the fotmtain-heads, 
 the old chronicles, — where they can be consulted, 
 as many of them can, in our libraries. To realise 
 one is reading contemporaneous accounts, — or 
 nearly so, — comparatively (since the perspective 
 
20 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 of years makes centuries dwindle), lends a peculiar 
 charm to these records, and, moreover, the naivete, 
 simplicity, and directness of the old chroniclers 
 in recounting their times and environment, no 
 more sophisticated modem narrator can possibly 
 reproduce, even when he attempts it in the way 
 of atmosphere for fiction and romance. 
 
 It is a general principle, that to tell a little well, 
 to children, even, — one must know a great deal; 
 and it is true. Where one has but a skeleton of 
 information for resource, what one tells is dry as 
 bones; but the deeply informed person may tell 
 a very simple thing, and it will be rich with life, 
 with vision. Only by giving herself a rich store 
 of her own, may the teacher hope, in her most 
 simple recounting, to give the gleams of life and 
 beaut}'- that irresistibly vivify a class. It is 
 largely for these reasons that I make my biblio- 
 graphy, for the most part, far from juvenile in its 
 context, expecting teachers to prepare from its 
 material a series of juvenile presentations that will 
 be vastly richer and better and more real than 
 juvenile literature proper can supply, even al- 
 though the teacher's work is for children, and 
 beginning with very small ones. The plays I give 
 as illustrative, and the collections I cite, are meant 
 to be an indication of what may be done toward 
 such a presentation of matter for children's use; 
 to stimulate pupils to go on by themselves or with 
 their teacher's help, to prepare original composi- 
 tions for action or other forms of expression from 
 
Department for FolK-Plays 21 
 
 material they themselves collect from reading, or 
 from their teacher's narratives. 
 
 It will be seen that archaeological books are 
 especially included in the list that follows. This 
 is so, because of their value in presenting the 
 modes of art and industrial expression of primitive 
 peoples, and of early civilisations. When the pu- 
 pils get up their little plays, games, and dances, 
 and prepare "properties" for them, to know the 
 principles of the arts of the peoples whose doings 
 they wish to mimic will be a small education in 
 itself. For instance, then, books on our Indian 
 basketry are most pertinent; on potteries and 
 implements, — and besides these, a study of the 
 music of the different peoples in conjunction with 
 their other lore. The series of folk-song books 
 now published, and the folk-dance books with 
 descriptions of the dances so that any teacher 
 may work them out, will be indispensable adjuncts 
 to the department of work here outlined. Arts 
 and industrial training, represented by our manual 
 training in the elementary grades, will go hand 
 in hand with it, too, to the advantage of all, in 
 addition to the apparently more immediate rela- 
 tion of this department to history and literature. 
 And at last, in reality, all these elements that may 
 enter this work are vehicles, or expressions for 
 the vital core of it : the freeing of personal faculties, 
 scope for originality, power, and efficiency. 
 
II 
 
 THE ADMINISTRATION OF CLASS WORK IN A DEPART- 
 MENT FOR FOLK-PLAYS 
 
 IN such a department as that just outHned, if 
 the teacher is working with a class in a recrea- 
 tion period, — which we shall suppose a good forty 
 or sixty minute one for this kind of work, — we 
 will suppose the children are past the period when 
 the dramatic instinct has satisfactory vent to them 
 in marches, the most childish and made-up dances, 
 and the simplest forms of game and "make- 
 believe," and are interested in acting out stories, 
 to the point of even wanting to make up their 
 speeches and action into little plays for their 
 companions to look on at, because at this more 
 advanced period we may demonstrate more fully 
 what the scope of this work actually is. With this 
 premise, we will say we open the class hour by 
 first telling a story, or several stories, and letting 
 the children choose one they would like to "pre- 
 tend," or we may tell one longer narrative in 
 which we know there is the possibility of finding 
 several dramatic plots. This last gives most 
 scope for originality in discovering and choosing 
 
A.dininistration of Class WorK 23 
 
 the incident they want to make a play of. Most 
 children catch the salient features of a story, a 
 few have a weaker sense of the relations of detail 
 to main facts, but out of the various suggestions, 
 a good outline for the action will easily come. In 
 our unfortunately big classes, so far exceeding the 
 only possible number for good results, all the 
 children cannot possibly take part in each play, 
 so they must be asked who will be audience for 
 the first play, when the number of those needed 
 in it is found. Then it may be explained to them 
 that there are many other things to be done beside 
 acting, in the getting up of a play, — that there will 
 be something for each member of the class to do 
 to help. 
 
 The teacher may remind the children that a 
 play ought to be made interesting to look at by 
 making the scene of it appear at least .something 
 like reality. This does not need much impressing, 
 for it is natural for children to make up a semblance 
 of scenes in all their plays, as we know; so by very 
 little talking and questioning you may get them 
 gradually to give their ideas of what the imaginary 
 scene of the play they want is to be like, and fol- 
 lowing that up, you may ask them how they think 
 they can manage to make it like that. Perhaps 
 as has been suggested they will think of decorations 
 and "properties" they can bring from home to 
 help, or makeshift things they have at hand with 
 imagination to aid, both of which methods have 
 their advantages and are a splendid beginning. 
 
24 Department for FolK-Plays 
 
 It is a good plan to let them work out each play 
 in a makeshift way at first, for rehearsals, yet the 
 further ways of carrying out the plan are what 
 widen the field of achievement and educational 
 benefit for it. For the function of imagination is 
 to spur on realisation. At each rehearsal it may 
 be suggested — indeed it will suggest itself to the 
 children — that the scene may be improved upon. 
 If there is a blackboard behind the platform let 
 it be utilised for drawing or colouring an imaginary 
 background to the scene. Then from that you 
 can explain to the children what it will help them 
 to know about the painted scenes in the real 
 theatre. 
 
 The idea of wishing they could make some 
 semblance of real scenery will have probably 
 suggested itself. Then they will begin to think 
 how they can themselves make such, and make it 
 more and more Hke theatre scenery on a small 
 scale. All these accessory things necessary to 
 the play those who are to be audience can do 
 entirely, and they wiU be perfectly happy over 
 this part because it will keep them busy and 
 interested. The actors themselves can attend 
 to their makeshift costumes and the general bet- 
 tering of them, and to their personal "properties." 
 In these simple little plays for the children them- 
 selves it is better to have them originate their own 
 lines gradually, playing them out as they go, than 
 to have them put the plays at first into set lines 
 and learn them, by rote before acting them; and 
 
A.clniinistration of Class WorK 25 
 
 for most occasions it is best to get up plays with 
 no idea of exhibiting them except for the children's 
 companions, or parents and teachers. Let the 
 children rehearse the play over and over until cer- 
 tain lines stick and are always in substance the 
 same, proving that they belong to the real action. 
 By and by each child can write down an outline 
 of what he remembers he says, the teacher can 
 help in the putting together of these outlines, and 
 yovi have a play all in order for reference and help 
 at rehearsals, and nothing, at any rate, can be 
 better for the children than this process of making 
 it up themselves; certainly not for the younger 
 children. 
 
 But with so much premised it is necessary to 
 imagine a very delightful, but as yet unusual 
 state of things, that is, the open space schoolroom 
 with no close rows of desks, or else that right at 
 hand, for use in connection with this "recreation 
 study," shall be a work-room, or work-space, for 
 preparing just these needed accessories to the play 
 the children are getting up ; that in this work-room 
 there shall be tools and utensils for work, and that 
 materials shall be provided for it as they are 
 needed. Where there is a room for Sloyd or 
 other manual training, this may be easily realised. 
 
 Let us see next what the children would have 
 to do. Suppose the ordinary furnishings for the 
 scene were at hand, that is, tables, and chairs, or a 
 bench or stools, but that the children wanted to 
 make the semblance of a special background and 
 
26 Department for FolK-Plays 
 
 side framing to their play picture. First of all 
 they must make the skeleton for the canvas or 
 paper to be stretched on before it is painted, and 
 here is introduced at once a simple carpentry, 
 easily and gladly undertaken by some of the boys. 
 But are the children sure how the)'' want the 
 scene painted? Who has a clear idea? Let them 
 tell. Discuss the ideas, then let each one make a 
 drawing to show his idea, a drawing big enough to 
 be held up for the class to see, and done in broad 
 lines of charcoal, or best practice of all, lines of 
 ivory black wash paints. Finally the best points 
 of all will be sifted, through criticism, the out- 
 line of the scene picture decided itpon, and the 
 result drawn by teacher, or a pupil, and hung up 
 again in view. Each pupil must again copy this 
 in pencil outline, and then colour his design ac- 
 cording to his idea; all the designs again to be 
 submitted, discussed, and compared as before, and 
 the best points chosen for the colour model. 
 
 Now who shall paint the scenery? You have 
 already given the carpentry of its structure to one 
 group of pupils, so now your number is reduced 
 and easier to choose from. You ask for volunteers 
 and if there are too many you may tell them as 
 before that there are still other things as inter- 
 esting to be done, for which there must be workers. 
 To vote upon the question of who has made the 
 best colour designs if you like, is a natural way, 
 though as all who like to draw and paint are to be 
 benefited, to turn and turn about among the 
 
A-dministration of Class WorK 2j 
 
 incinbors of the class for all Lhc different, lands of 
 wtn-Is. needed should he the plan followed. Yet 
 choosing the best drawings, the liesl enrpentry, 
 niui so forth as a means of assigning "head- 
 workers" exeites a wish in tluvse not eliosen, to 
 improve, if the teaelier will .say that she will 
 ehoose a new heail-worker in any part, of the work, 
 whenever any other (luinl siieeeeds in doing as 
 well as the head-wtirker in olliee. 
 
 Having the ilesign settled upoi\, the eor]is that 
 is to St retell eanvas, or nail or [xisle eardboard on 
 the seene frames, must eome forward and go to 
 woi'k. If the designs are Ici extend he\'ond the 
 frames as they would ilo in tree branehes or the 
 like, the pasteboard must allow for this, or if 
 eanvas eovei-ing is used, the eanvas extensions 
 will have to be stifTened with pasteboard. The 
 yovnig seene-painters may then draw their pro- 
 jeeting outlines and the yinnig pasters or eanvas 
 stretehers must eut the extension away along the 
 outlines of the design. When this is done the 
 seenery is ready to paint, and the artists may put 
 on gingham aprons, girls and boys both, and go 
 to W'cn'k. If pasteboard has been used, eolours 
 made from vegetable dyes may be used for the 
 medimn, mixeil with Water simi^ly. and used like 
 waler-eoKnu\s with big soft brushes; if eanvas, oils, 
 bought in quantity and thinned; the eans of paint 
 or stains used for walls or furniture or floors or 
 for kalsomining, ai\d that eome in all eoknu's, may 
 be used, also with big brushes. But the vegetable 
 
28 Department for FolK-Plays 
 
 dyes may be UvSed on most fabrics, and are harm- 
 less. In either case obtain brushes that are 
 well made for such uses, and which allow for 
 detail work, not of course, large and clumsy ones 
 like whitewash-brushes, except for big flat-toned 
 spaces. The children's ingenuity will tell them how 
 to set up the frames steadily, unless they can also 
 make a holding frame to shift the wings in, which is 
 more difficult, but possible enough to do, and more 
 steady and satisfactory for use, in the end. 
 
 Can you imagine anything children wotdd find 
 more entrancing? To have their fling fully with a 
 good big paint-brush and plenty of lovely colours ? 
 Yet they will all the time be having the natural 
 discipline demanded by the very aim they them- 
 selves have for their work, — their desire to make 
 it like the design they have decided to follow, and 
 to do it well because they want it to be a good- 
 looking scene, which is, indeed, the very heart and 
 soul of the only discipline worth having, — the 
 discipline inherent in the necessity to do good 
 work in order to bring a desired good resvdt. The 
 child with this aim will be careful, jealous to pro- 
 tect his work, anxious to finish it, and delighted to 
 see it grow under his hands, without any teacher 
 or meddling grown-up person needing to stand over 
 him with grim authority. This is always so when 
 the work the child is given to do is full of interest 
 to him, as this kind of play work — with its very 
 wonderful potentiality — is full, for him. 
 
 So now we may see we have given to the children, 
 
Administration of Class "WorK 29 
 
 in this preparation for their play, two kinds of 
 "manual training": the carpentry of the scene 
 structure and the pasting or stretching and cutting 
 of the scene surface; this has necessarily included 
 the calculation of spaces and measurements and is, 
 so, a further mental exercise; we have also given 
 them a splendid lesson in symmetrical design 
 through the making of scene sketches; as well as 
 the colour designing afterward, and the delightful 
 chance at broad colour work that the final scene- 
 painting squad has, and which shall be given to 
 other squads in their turn. So: — design, with its 
 accompanying discussion of perspective necessary 
 for a scene sketch, in simple terms for practical 
 application, with the chance for instructive com- 
 parisons of perspective, outdoors and in; painting, 
 with the ideas of distances as expressed in colours 
 and tones, which -will naturally be discussed and 
 compared with the interior and the exterior chiar- 
 oscuro ; and manual training, to say nothing of the 
 mental and imaginative exercise of originating 
 the idea of the play; these so far; and what next? 
 Those pupils who have nothing else to do may 
 constitute themselves a force to get together and 
 arrange personal properties and the stage setting 
 of "movable properties" and they can be critics 
 at rehearsals. They can notice how the stage 
 looks, whether it makes a good picture, and they 
 can work at the setting till it is good, or, that is, 
 till it is as nearly like as they can make it to what- 
 ever is appropriate to the action to take place in it. 
 
30 Department for FolK-Plays 
 
 Then they must notice how it looks when the 
 little actors come upon it, and they must see how 
 the groups must stand to make the picture look 
 well; they must notice, too, about the colours of 
 the costumes, how they go together, and with 
 the scenery. In short they will gradually, without 
 knowing it, and in this play-hour manner, develop 
 their sense of harmony and symmetry, with respect 
 to colour, mass, and line, and they will come to 
 know instinctively what it is that makes imity in 
 the composition of a picture; what makes it strik- 
 ing by its centre of strong action and its contrasts, 
 or what makes it beautiful and appealing by its 
 pleasant, soft-toned colours and its gentler action ; 
 thus a million details in the training of the finer 
 perceptions, we can readily see, can be suppHed 
 the child, which perhaps no other one thing could 
 give so well to him, not even outdoors, because 
 in this play of make-believe — acting — the attention 
 is concentrated, and the influence of its accessory 
 benefits is attached to something directly in hand. 
 It is in fact a spur to the noticing of nattiral objects 
 and beautiful outdoor scenes, and to all apprecia- 
 tion of them, in a way the child might not arrive 
 at through the influence only of working among 
 outdoor things without having any wish aroused 
 in him to focus and reproduce in some creation of 
 his own the beauties about him. Outdoor beautj' 
 is so diffused it does not necessarily make a poet, or 
 painter, or a man of thought or invention of the 
 farmer or other out-of-doors worker, by its influ- 
 
i\dministration of Class "WorK 31 
 
 ence, so long as that influence is not met by aes- 
 thetic sensibiUty inherently keen or developed to 
 activity through the awakening of intellect and 
 vision to invest the mere physical eyesight, and 
 make it focus attention on beauty to the point 
 of appreciation and understanding. But this 
 particular power of focusing aesthetic faculties, 
 the application to arts accomplishes. 
 
 There is more still. — The words of the little 
 play must be heard by the audience of the players' 
 companions; they will insist that they hear, so 
 voices must be used clearly and words spoken well. 
 But the voice must also sound pleasant, must have 
 a good tone, not be harsh, hard, and loud as it too 
 often is in our public-school rooms, as if the only 
 object were to have it heard, whether agreeably 
 or not. Therefore it will be necessar}?^ to discover 
 the right way to use the voice, which is the only 
 way that allows it to be heard and to be pleasant 
 and sweet at the same time. When songs are 
 introduced into the plays, this helps the vocal 
 work, as well as bringing another element of vital- 
 ity and enjoyment into the little drama. Even a 
 "character" or eccentric use of the voice for 
 portraying a type, must have a good tone 
 placing. The audience also wants to see every- 
 thing that is happening on the stage, and plainly, 
 not with one thing crowding or blurring another, 
 for the drama is a way of telling a story, and the 
 audience must know how all the parts of the story 
 work together and finally resolve themselves. 
 
32 Department for Folk-Plays 
 
 So the little actors have to make their gestures 
 and steps tell clearly what is happening, and each 
 one must give his neighbour his chance to be in 
 view. This must give practice to the players 
 in moving about among people, in overcoming 
 clumsiness and rude ways of pushing about, and 
 it helps the little audience to learn further to 
 understand what is meant by the good composition 
 of a picture, even if the technical words to explain 
 it are not introduced. That, too, is an eye practice 
 in good arrangement, and eye practice means 
 something contributed to all the senses. 
 
 If we introduce dancing, folk-dances, and rondes 
 into the plays, that is another elaboration of this 
 element of grouping, and of attainment of com- 
 mand of physical motion. Like singing, too, it 
 brings a splendid vital element into the recreation, 
 — vital and an awakener of aesthetic sensibilities 
 in gay, natiural young ways. Where there is out- 
 door exercise for children in its right measure 
 and dancing, singing, and active occupations of 
 interesting kinds, artificial gymnastics are not, or 
 should not be, necessary at all. That is, for a 
 normally developed and healthy child they should 
 not be ; but in these hours of play theatre, through 
 the different kinds of action demanded of the 
 children, physical defects can be readily discovered 
 and remedial gymnastics applied in the course of 
 the work being done, and as if it were not a medi- 
 cine, but merely a part of making them carry out 
 their small festival better. 
 
Administration of Class WorK 
 
 33 
 
 The little class audience will be loudly and 
 mercilessly critical; children' are very ready to 
 pounce upon each other's faults, especially when 
 these faults interfere with enjoyment. If they 
 don't hear the lines, they will insist that they be 
 spoken more clearly; if they are spoken in bad 
 voices they will also be corrected with great 
 promptness; if the spectators cannot see plainly 
 what is happening, they will cry out against the 
 bunglers, who will have to remedy things and make 
 their actions simple and plain. You wiU notice 
 from this, that the audience will be criticising 
 the actors because they want to know what the 
 play is about, because they want the play to be as 
 pretty or as interesting as they imagined it would 
 be; they don't criticise because they want Mary 
 or Tommy to look more attractive or to show what 
 good voices they have. And that is the best part 
 of it. While the teacher knows that the whole 
 thing is for the benefit and improvement of the 
 children individually; that Mary's voice may be 
 better, that she may physically improve and not be 
 clumsy, as well as that she may be benefited by 
 the other things the dramatic game can give her, 
 and which we have enumerated; yet the teacher 
 must know also that this benefit, even subjectively, 
 is altogether to have its best fruition through the 
 effort of the children to accomplish something 
 outside of themselves, for its own sake; therefore 
 the criticism directed against the effect of the play 
 upon the young audience is right, and should not 
 
34 Department for FolK-Plays 
 
 be in the nature of personal criticism as apart from 
 the needs of the play. 
 
 Personal criticism of the kind to produce in- 
 dividual self-consciousness or the excessive wish 
 to be singled out and admired is obviously wrong, 
 and to be avoided, even though a childish bit of 
 this wish is but human, and as such, merely not 
 to be noticed overmuch, for a tactful teacher may 
 easily keep a balance in this respect, by paying 
 equally kind attention to all, ignoring the little 
 passing vanities, and upholding outwardly the 
 idea of working only for the collective result, and 
 when fitting, commending individual effort to- 
 wards this result. 
 
 So now, in addition to the first accessories to 
 this work, which we have enumerated, — of manual 
 training, and of design, as in scene carpentry, and 
 painting, — we see also enter the sense of good com- 
 position through stage setting and grouping, — with 
 the assthetic attainment this implies; we see the 
 entry of music as part of the plan, the introduction 
 of which in any range fitting the age of the child- 
 ren is possible, and through instruments as well 
 as the voice. In this connection and in that of 
 the speaking voice, we see how the right use of 
 the voice belongs to the preparation of festival 
 or play, since in order to make their words plain 
 and expressive to their audience, the children must 
 learn to respect pronunciation and enunciation 
 of their speech and songs, and to appreciate the 
 values and beauty of language and of tones in 
 
v\dininistration of Class W^orK 35 
 
 their innumerable shadings. For they will have 
 been forced to learn, if only from the outcry of 
 their young comrades as critics, — as we have seen, 
 — that they must say what they have to say, 
 intelligibly, — ^first qmte understanding it them- 
 selves, which of course they will do, if they have 
 made up their own play, and which they may be 
 helped to do better and better gradually, if they 
 are learning ready-made ones. 
 
 Further, we see how physical culture enters, 
 both through such remedial gymnastics as shall 
 seem necessary to help the children to convey the 
 story of their play by freer gestures, and spon- 
 taneous action, but most definitely, by the dancing 
 brought into the plays; for there is no better 
 physical gymnastic than dancing except outdoor 
 sports of the various kinds in fit proportions. 
 By dances here, free, gay, folk-dances are meant, 
 which unlike languid ballroom dances, — em- 
 ploy muscles almost universally, and so are of 
 great hygienic value as well as awakeners of 
 aesthetic sensibilities. Such normal dancing as 
 folk-dances and such gay exercise as sports are 
 always true and thorough gymnastics for the very 
 reason of their gaiety. Besides, the abstract 
 purposes held up as the objective of artificial 
 gymnastics, such as the gaining of health, or 
 good carriage, or grace, or muscular power as such 
 alone, are not real enough objectives to a child 
 to be effective, — and they should not be, for the 
 matter of that. For health belongs with joy, 
 
36 Department for FolK-Plays 
 
 and a normal joyous child should never have it 
 mentioned to him, however his parents may guard 
 it for him without his being conscious of it. 
 
 Yet of course so long as we seat yoimg ramping 
 children for five hours a day at a stretch at desks 
 and mainly over books, with an outrageously 
 hurried luncheon in between, to have them get 
 up once or twice in that time and bob about 
 stiffly in unison between the rows of desks may be 
 a little relief, if even of a clumsy kind, — but we 
 hope for better schooldays after awhile in all 
 schools, as they are now in the few,— with out- 
 doors and real child kind of hours in them as the 
 main constituent, — with things learned in happi- 
 ness and through such methods as do not let en- 
 ergies dull to the point of finding relief in these 
 inane dippings and jerldngs called "calisthenics" 
 still used in too many of our overcrowded school- 
 rooms. How much better wotdd the hours be, 
 not only momentarily relieved in this set way, 
 but enlivened by gymnastics of a natural order 
 like the folk-dance, music, gardening, one or 
 another land of productive occupation, or this 
 dramatic game with which no "gymnastic" of a 
 mechanical sort can compare in opportunity for 
 varied activities and development of many powers 
 — ^not alone physical, — as the enumeration which 
 we are making of its benefits must show. It is 
 very hopeful for school improvement that its 
 adoption is not only becoming popular, but better 
 understood as valuable. It is the lyrical elements 
 
♦ 
 
 Administration of Class WorK 37 
 
 it is bringing more definitely into school, which, 
 perhaps more than anything else, will do away 
 with our criminally unhygienic methods of arti- 
 ficial "discipline," our enforced, unnatural re- 
 strictions to quiet, and long silent periods at desks 
 for children at ages when this is likely to be, and 
 often proves to be, a positive injury, physical, 
 mental, and nervous. 
 
 To continue ^th the possibilities of our work: 
 On our children's stage, of course, the matter of 
 their learning to walk about in the groups there, 
 is a help in getting over clumsiness and in a number 
 of related ways. They will be seen to get over 
 their awkwardness readily when their attention 
 is called to the need of ordering their steps and 
 movements in ways that don't impede others 
 whose movements must be seen, too, to make the 
 play clear to the onlookers. This also must ap- 
 pear to them to be for the sake of the play, and 
 not because they are themselves "clumsy" or 
 "stupid." Surely it is a poor method to tell 
 children such things of themselves, and it should 
 never be done. If they are awkward they are 
 so only from timidity, which is not allayed by 
 making them more self-conscious. Make them 
 forget themselves in interest in what they are do- 
 ing, and awkwardness is gone, gradiially. At all 
 events, the play is not given them to do, for the 
 sake of their acquiring a perfection of dramatic 
 technic right away, but for purposes more fitted 
 to their childish development. But a little child. 
 
38 Department for FolK-Plays 
 
 active and happy and healthy, is as graceful as a 
 fawn when he is doing something in which lie 
 forgets himself because of its interest to him, and 
 it is a perpetually valuable gymnastic to do things 
 graceftilly because of happiness in them. 
 
 We may have the children make the properties 
 and paraphernalia necessary, as real as they like, 
 and actually make things themselves for use, in 
 the handicraft hours that nowadays they are 
 supposed to have. They can model clay pottery 
 and weave some of their fabrics; they can cook 
 things in their domestic science classes for use on 
 their stage tables, and make simple carpentry 
 products for furnishings. 
 
 It is good to create things for a purpose of use 
 always; and the make-believe use in the little 
 plays is practice for real use, and besides what is 
 concocted for use in the play hour may be de- 
 stined for taking home to an actual use afterwards 
 if it is a substantial product, as something woven, 
 some piece of furniture, or something really 
 decorative might be. At all events if the school 
 theatre became an institution the children would 
 build up and accumulate all its necessary para- 
 phemaha gradually, and very satisfactorily and 
 instructively to themselves, by this method. 
 
 So much for the beginnings of class work relating 
 most to the active and assthetic elements of this 
 recreational exercise. Now for the further in- 
 tellectual acquisition that may belong to it. Illus- 
 tration is the easiest way to set this forth. 
 
Administration of Class WorK 
 
 39 
 
 Suppose we take a play built on some especial 
 episode in history, or about picturesque racial 
 customs with a simple dramatic story running 
 through it as theme. Whether we use a play 
 ready-made, or the class and teacher together 
 build it as I have suggested, we may take up the 
 work in the following manner, which has proven 
 satisfactory and interesting. 
 
 I will take the Httle genre- or folk-play appended 
 to section II of Part II, Minka's Wedding. It 
 is one adapted to classes midway between the 
 primary and advanced, and it includes the main 
 features which we have just discussed as important 
 in a play's preparation for our educational use. 
 
 My own method in preparing a play of this 
 kind is, as preliminary, to sketch for the class 
 the possibilities in the history and racial ways of 
 several nationalities, and then ask the class which 
 it would prefer to begin upon. For our present 
 purpose — from, say, French, Spanish, Irish, Japan- 
 ese, and Russian material supposedly presented, 
 which might find varied adherence in the class, — 
 we will say the Russian material sketched out by 
 the teacher is that finally chosen. With that 
 done, the next step is for the teacher to present 
 several suggestions about different periods and 
 their incidents, in Russian history; to talk about 
 Russian customs, and of the country itself de- 
 scriptively. In the case of this Russian folk-play 
 taken for example, and which was discussed first 
 in class in the way sketched here, the idea of 
 
40 Department for FolK-Plays 
 
 "a plot" finally focused about the provincial 
 wedding customs, as giving a chance for liveliness, 
 bright costumes, and the introduction of some of 
 the most picturesque types and customs as special 
 features, — as, for example, the introduction of the 
 bard with his recitation of a famous epic. 
 
 In a school drawing upon the foreign quarters 
 in our big cities, one or another nationality chosen 
 will be found, likely enough, well represented in 
 the class. For our Russian play, suppose we 
 should find among our class a number of Russians, 
 there would be a chance of arousing their special 
 personal interest by getting them to make inquiries 
 of their parents about Russia, if they had not 
 themselves been there. Usually such class mem- 
 bers will report their possession at home of inter- 
 esting relics, costumes, utensils, ornaments, and 
 furnishings from the "old country," some of which 
 would not be held too precious to lend as "proper- 
 ties" for the play. It is also often the experience 
 of the teacher that upon her inquiries, the foreign 
 children wiU delightedly bring quaint and inter-/ 
 esting bits of information about present customs 
 that still persist from many past generations in 
 the provincial districts of their fatherland. 
 
 The best plan for working out the action is that 
 already outlined, — gtiiding the pupils to work out 
 the lines themselves with appropriate relation to 
 the chosen plot. When this has been done enough 
 to give the substance of the dialogue, the teacher 
 may herself shape it consistently, but the value to 
 
Administration of Class "WorK 41 
 
 the child is greater if the teacher will do this shap- 
 ing in class with the pupils, letting them see the 
 steps she takes to put it into good structural 
 form. During this time, while teacher and class 
 are getting the play shaped, and working it out by- 
 tentative rehearsals, books may be suggested to 
 the pupils to look up, which relate to the subject 
 of the play, and further, they may be directed to 
 museums and shops where there are exhibits to 
 illustrate the subject. Whenever it is possible 
 for a teacher to take her class on a tour of inspec- 
 tion herself for such illustrative material, she can 
 add thereby to the interest of the whole work. 
 
 For the costume part of the preparation, some- 
 times more help is necessary from the teacher 
 than mere drawings of costumes, or directions to 
 books of costume plates. In this Russian play, 
 for example, the headdresses would require help 
 usually in the cutting of patterns, and the explana- 
 tion of character touches in the costumes, as, for 
 instance, such points of dress as indicate rank, or 
 official position. For this play, the foundation 
 of the costumes would be simple and supplied from 
 materials and garments in every-day use; the 
 picturesque and character touches would be in the 
 detail, and to supply these touches, a little paint, 
 gold paper, particular kinds of bows and streamers, 
 and the utilisation of long cloaks, sashes, gymna- 
 sium suits, and imitation top boots will answer, 
 and make up satisfactorily the wardrobes of 
 bridesmaids, principals, guests, and Cossacks. 
 
42 Department for FolK-Plays 
 
 In such a process as this, if carried out with 
 enthusiasm, and with effort on the part of the 
 teacher to have her pupils get the most benefit , 
 from its possibilities, the class may be given a 
 glimpse they will not forget into the ways of a 
 foreign country, its appearance, its history, its 
 folk-lore, its people's character. As in the play 
 taken here for example, some typical episode 
 may often characterise and throw light on the 
 people's history, and open a vista for interest 
 in its arts and literature. By introducing the 
 bard to the j'^oung players as a character in the 
 scenes, the teacher is given a chance to tell them 
 the picturesque story of the unearthing of the mass 
 of epic treasures that were for generations previ- 
 ously only handed about from mouth to mouth 
 by the wandering skoromokhi or minstrels, in out- 
 lying, primitive districts, and to introduce any 
 number of examples of this folk-literature too. 
 The flavour of romance in such narrative is alwaj'^s 
 delightful to children, and the teacher who is on 
 the lookout for such opportunities, and cares to 
 inform herself with some richness and variety 
 upon the subjects that come into her work, will 
 open a whole treasure-house of possibilities that 
 will make her hours as well as her pupils' full of 
 charm and life. 
 
 All plays in the schoolroom may be developed 
 from a similar basic plan, varied of course in devel- 
 opment according to their nature. The play used 
 for demonstration here is just one idea from a 
 
Administration of Class "WorK 
 
 43 
 
 vast treasure-house of the lore of peoples, their 
 history and romance, open to any teacher who is 
 interested enough to explore it for the sake of 
 more life in the schoolroom, and the richer field 
 of work she can make. 
 
 The best part of all this is that the action of the 
 children themselves, the opportunity to make them 
 feel actually part and parcel of the scenes, espe- 
 cially after they have been made vivid to them by 
 discussion and investigation of the details relat- 
 ing to them, impresses the whole new realm the 
 process has opened to them indelibly upon their 
 minds, perhaps as a spur t9 further interest and 
 study on their part, — at all events in a way that 
 is delightful to them, and never to be forgotten. 
 
 So it may be seen from this, not only how fully 
 plays may be made to help the study of history, 
 geography, literature, and the world of romance 
 and myth, — and we have employed them already 
 in our schools as accessory illustrations of these 
 studies, — but how the employment of them with 
 all their possibilities developed maj^ bring in 
 every element of educational work in a manner 
 that is peculiarly valuable because of the natural 
 relation of all parts to a particular and concrete 
 aim. 
 
 To this enumeration of the values represented 
 by this work, and so far discussed in this and the 
 previous paper, we may add: the development of 
 ability to compose yaried literary and musical 
 forms. This may indeed readily be seen to be 
 
44 Department for FolK-Plays 
 
 but a natural sequence to the origination of the 
 play outline, to the making up of the lines by the 
 children themselves for songs and speeches, and 
 the putting together of the full play. The intro- 
 duction of songs and verse, of rhythmical forms, 
 into the simple play, is a value in itself, because it 
 more definitely develops the capacity for spon- 
 taneous rhythmical utterance. Rhythmical utter- 
 ance is really as natural to human expression as 
 are the rhythms of breathing and of all the in- 
 voluntary physical actions, — ^in which personal 
 rhythms, as we know, the rhythms of art take 
 their rise. Therefore this further value our 
 lyrical or dramatic exercise has in giving scope to 
 rhythmical utterance is a value meriting special 
 attention. 
 
 Now, if for any reason, — either for the sake of 
 a study to be illustrated, or the advance of the 
 children to capacity for it, — an already made play, 
 classic or other, is chosen for use, the teacher is 
 likely to find the odd, stilted self-consciousness 
 manifest itself which for some reason or other the 
 untutored human being assumes the moment he 
 attempts to deliver the printed sayings of another 
 human being. 
 
 He would not do so if he were reporting what 
 his friend John said to him, even if his friend 
 Johh's information took the form of a long and 
 exciting or comic or even tragic narrative. He 
 woidd not be melodramatic, or artificially burlesque 
 or lachrymose; he would be quite simple and the 
 
Administration of Class WorK 
 
 45 
 
 narrative would carry, therefore, as that of a real 
 occurrence to real human beings. But to learn 
 from the written word seems at once to induce an 
 intense formality, general stiffening or exaggera- 
 tion. Why? An amount of wrong training and 
 wrong standards, for one thing, in school recita- 
 tions, and from public examples, but also, — with the 
 child, as it is, too, with the tmcultured professional 
 actor, — because the printed words seem not, to his 
 imagination, to invest themselves with Hfe. With 
 the professional actor lacking culture this is chronic 
 and probably irremediable except through educa- 
 tion usually beyond his opportunity or taste, but 
 with the child the remedy for it lies in awaken- 
 ing his intelligence and originality. There are 
 two methods for this: the first, and usually the 
 best, of them being to lead him to make up his 
 lines in the way we have suggested already, with 
 the teacher only helping with material for ideas 
 through her suggestions. The other way is to 
 help the child to really imderstand intelligently 
 lines he has to learn if he is learning from an already 
 prepared play, — and more, — to understand the 
 whole play until the relations of aU the parts and 
 speeches become clear to him. There can be no 
 more pernicious method than to give a child lines 
 and cues alone to learn before he knows fully the 
 import of the play ; it is a wretched enough method 
 for professional managers to inflict upon profes- 
 sional players. 
 
 To help the child, in this respect, suggest to 
 
46 Department for FolK- Plays 
 
 him that he remember when he is speaking the 
 lines of the play that they are just such things as 
 real people like himself would say, whether they 
 are supposed to belong in China, Russia, or any- 
 where else, and that then if he and his companions 
 only think the idea of the words and then say them 
 feeling as if they were themselves those other 
 people, in such and such situations, it will begin 
 to come more simply to them, and seem more real. 
 Children are imaginative enough not to need much 
 of such suggestion, though it is a help in cases of 
 awkwardness and self-consciousness, for it helps 
 them to forget themselves in the thought of the 
 characters they are pretending to be, and this in 
 proportion to the clearness with which the teacher 
 can bring them to see the characters and their 
 situation first. This of course it will be under- 
 stood, in accordance with our discussion of method, 
 must be accomplished by guiding the child to un- 
 derstand the points for himself, not by one-sided 
 telling by the teacher. 
 
 Often, though, let us remember, this sense the 
 child has of the unreality of printed lines he is to 
 learn, has a true foundation in their actual arti- 
 ficiality, for of all beings in the world, the child 
 has the keenest sense of what is sincere, and what 
 unreal and artificial in expression, — expression 
 through books or through people, — and for the 
 most part the plays ready-made for children have 
 this defect. Any one thinks he can turn off a 
 hack pla);- for children or young people, and does 
 
A.dniinistration of Class "WorK 
 
 47 
 
 not realise that one must take some pains to pro- 
 duce written language in forms that are simple 
 and sincere, even when they deal with fanciful 
 or childish subjects, or the naive juvenile romance 
 that carries a harmless poetic sentiment for older 
 boys and girls. 
 
 To obviate the trouble when this is the cause, 
 the teacher must first look over the play she gives 
 the children and see if its lines are in themselves 
 stilted and unreal in expression, and if they are, 
 ruthlessly change them, into verse or prose, as 
 she sees fit, only, if verse, it must also be simple 
 and good. But better far, she may ask each child 
 how he would teU the content of the lines in his 
 own words, and help him so to make his own 
 changes. Classics will be, of course, simple and 
 true in diction, but those above the children's 
 heads, so that they cannot feel their reality, should 
 not be given them to learn, any more than inferior 
 literary work. In this latter class, if plot or story 
 is fanciful or interesting, the faults of artificiality 
 should be eliminated, and poor blank verse or 
 rhymed plays that make children feel unreal when 
 they speak the lines should always be subjected 
 to whatever changes will commend them to the 
 child's sense of reality. In using their own lan- 
 guage forms it really is not bad to let the children 
 have leeway; certain childish simple expressions 
 should be left to them without correction. That 
 is, too much correction and perfection is never 
 necessarj^ all at once, and at all events from the 
 
48 Department for FolK-Plays 
 
 companionship of cultivated teachers and parents 
 the child's language becomes correct and loses 
 primitive expressions or those ungrammatical or 
 undesirable ones he may pick up outside of home 
 or school. Mere childish language it is better to 
 let grow and improve in its own natural ways. 
 
 With all this we should not expect nor wish to 
 see the whole work of a school focused upon the 
 preparation of a play, even with the fine variety 
 of accessory work that can belong in the process ; 
 but that it introduce and demonstrate more thor- 
 oughly the principle that the educative process 
 has its rise in the play instinct, the first method 
 the child employs for trying his energies, — that is 
 to be expected and wished, for the more this 
 principle of nattu-al use of natiural energies is al- 
 lowed to develop its own possibilities, the nearer 
 we shaU come to an educational process less tied 
 to unchallenged custom, and more nearly allied to 
 the needs of natural growth. 
 
 The examples of plays in this volume are given 
 to show the kind of plays and festivals which may 
 be made to include the special activities I have 
 cited as valuable accessories to the now increas- 
 ingly adopted plan of introducing dramatic work 
 and festivals into schools in such a way as to 
 correlate them more intimately with the regular 
 regime. But they are given as types and sug- 
 gestions only; that they may be used satisfactor- 
 ily as ready-made plays, and with some benefit 
 to the pupils, I know, always provided that the 
 
A.dministration of Class "WorK 49 
 
 process be rationally developed, and not mechani- 
 cal or a rote one, as too often the case with ready- 
 made plays. But in offering them for such sug- 
 gestion of types as they may give usefully, I must 
 emphasise the point already dwelt upon, that the 
 best values are to be obtained in this work by 
 leading the pupils to build the plays and festivals, 
 the dances, songs, and games themselves, through 
 the processes nature indicates for spontaneously 
 developing powers of expression. This should be a 
 main principle to build upon throughout the entire 
 course of the work, and it should result finally 
 in each pupil's ability to construct for himself 
 the outline of a simple play, and in his gradually 
 learning to compose it completely. Such a develop- 
 ment of the work brings out the literary faculty, 
 the power of clear construction, poetic and, as well, 
 musical talent, in the pupils. At last it must 
 sift out those with marked gifts for the several 
 arts. The development of constructive faculty 
 alone, required in the making of a play, reaches 
 farther than the making of a play, too. Though 
 we might not necessarily aim to make each child 
 distinctly a litterateur, a composer of music, or 
 a dramatist, still, to produce a work of art noble 
 in conception, and excellent in structure, presup- 
 poses high gifts and devoted effort in the composer, 
 therefore a process that develops even elementary 
 powers in these directions must have a distinctly 
 comprehensive educative value. Even supposing 
 the child's natural bent turn him finally away 
 4 
 
50 Department for FolK-Plays 
 
 from the arts as a special work and, instead, to 
 science or industries, — this aesthetic, personal 
 culture we have been considering, appHed after a 
 sincere method, must give him constructive faculty 
 and augmented gift for any work he does, as, 
 undoubtedly, no other one factor in the whole 
 educational plan can give them. 
 
 But it is especially to be desired that this de- 
 partment of work should be a source of happiness 
 to the children in school, and least of all that it 
 should exist for an end of laborious exhibitions. 
 So for this reason all fuss of scenery and properties 
 which cannot be made or collected by the children 
 in ways that are useful and educative and happy 
 for them should be avoided, — and such accessories 
 supplied only by imagination, plenty of it, and 
 the fun of clever and amusing makeshift. Then 
 all the recreation of value there is in this new 
 departure — or comparatively new in its present 
 applications — will be for the sake of the children 
 and not for the sake of a display of their "pro- 
 gress" to outsiders, except only so far as all child- 
 ren like to have their own friends come to enjoy 
 their fun with them, and see the results of their 
 work. 
 
 While such a department is a recreational one, 
 in measure, in the school regime, yet because it is 
 a method of giving beautiful forms to recreation, 
 it means it is also work, and not desultory or 
 haphazard, or only relaxation. But happiness 
 is not in relaxation, — necessary preliminary as 
 
A.dininistratioii of Class 'WorK 51 
 
 that is to recreation, — nor in spasmodic impulse 
 and effort; but always in work that has a 
 constructive purpose, especially in original and 
 creative work. Creative work and the real happi- 
 ness it brings from its awakening of energy is 
 the soul of this department of plays, festivals, 
 the lyrical arts. For happiness is the main- 
 spring of the lyrical arts, and it is through them 
 we see now coming the regenerative process — the 
 leaven — needed in education. These modem de- 
 partures in education are not for the purpose of 
 giving children the idea that life is one long play- 
 day in which everything difficult is to be avoided, 
 but to give their powers scope to find themselves 
 through a proper meed of relaxation and freedom 
 from rule, and then to give them material to en- 
 cotirage the creative energy that arises from such 
 freedom, and to inspire it to valuable and beautiful 
 expression. 
 
Ill 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY FOR TEACHERS 
 
 America 
 
 Fiske: Discovery of America, with Some Account of Ancient 
 
 America and of the Spanish Conquest. 
 Du Chaillu: The Viking Age. 
 Dasent: Popular Tales of the Norse. 
 Nadaillac: Prehistoric America (includes matter relative to 
 
 the Pueblo, Central American, and Peruvian Indians). 
 Compton: American Indian Fairy Tales. 
 Skinner: Myths and Legends of our own Land; Myths and 
 
 Legends beyond our Borders (Canada and Mexico). 
 Burton: American Primitive Music. 
 Also Miss Alice Fletcher's and Dr. Fillmore's researches in 
 
 Indian music, and the myth connected with it, and American 
 
 Folk-Lore Society Publications in general. 
 Abbott: History of King Philip. 
 Eastman: Old Indian Days. 
 Howard: My Experiences with our Hostile Indians (with 
 
 coloured plates of authentic Indian costume). 
 James: Indians of the Painted Desert. 
 Janvier: The Aztec Treasure House. 
 Raymond: The Aztec God. A Drama. 
 Mercer: The HiU Caves of Yucatan. 
 
 Spanish in America 
 
 General Reference: Prescott, Conquest of Mexico; Con- 
 quest of Peru; History of the Reign of Ferdinand and 
 Isabella. 
 
 52 
 
Bibliog'rapKx for TeacHers 53 
 
 French in America 
 
 General Reference: Parkman, Pioneers of France in the New 
 World; Jesuits in North America; Discovery of the Great 
 West; Conspiracy of Pontiac; Montcalm and Wolfe; Count 
 Frontenac and New France under Louis XIV. 
 
 Clarke: Longfellow's Country. 
 
 Longfellow: Evangeline. 
 
 Irving: Astoria (chapter relative to Canadian "Voyageurs"). 
 
 See also the several French-Canadian romances of Sir Gilbert 
 Parker. 
 
 Pilgrims. English in America. Colonial Days 
 
 General Reference: Green, History of England (relative 
 to the 1 6th century). 
 
 Kingsley: Sir Amyas Leigh; Westward Ho! 
 
 Hart: Colonial Children. 
 
 Brooks: Colonial Stories. 
 
 Fisher: Men, Women, and Manners in Colonial Times. 
 
 General Reference, also: Bancroft; Taine, Eng. Lit., bks. 
 ii. and iii. ; WooDROW Wilson. 
 
 Poetry and Romance of American Hist, and Lit.: See Haw- 
 thorne, Whittier, Longfellow, Irving, etc. 
 
 Wright: Children's Stories in American Literature. 
 
 HugTienots 
 
 Hale: In His Name (story of the Waldenses). 
 d'Aubign^: History of my own Time. 
 See also Riker's History of Harlem. 
 
 Dutch in America 
 
 Riker: History of Harlem. 
 Schuyler: Colonial New York. 
 Irving: The Sketch-Book. 
 See also Holland. 
 
54 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 England 
 
 English Origins: Celts, Teutons 
 
 Elton: Origins of English History. 
 
 Rhys: Celtic Heathendom. 
 
 England, Ireland, Wales, Cornwall. 
 
 Ancient Briton: Celtic Legend. 
 
 General Reference: Morley, English Writers; Rhys, Ar- 
 thurian Legend; Lady Guest's ed. Mabinogion; Sir 
 Thomas Malory's Morte d'Arthur. See also: Dunlop's 
 Hist, of Prose Fiction. 
 
 Morris: King Arthur and his Knights. 
 
 See also Borrow, Wild Wales; Hains, Cornish Saints and 
 Sinners (folk-tales and anecdote). 
 
 Also Joyce, Concise .History of Ireland (for gen. outline ref.). 
 
 Hyde: Literary History of Ireland (for guide in research). 
 
 O'CuRRY: Lectures on the MS. Materials of Ancient Irish 
 History. 
 
 Gregory: Heroes and Fighting Men; Cuchulainn of Muir- 
 themne. 
 
 Also selected writings of Lady Wilde, W. B. Yeats, Archibald 
 Percival Graves, Fiona MacLeod (William Sharpe), 
 (and other representative writers of the Irish Literary 
 Revival.) 
 
 Mason: Song- Lore of Ireland. 
 
 Also Petrie and Joyce for collections of ancient Irish folk- 
 music and songs. 
 
 Refer to Dr. Hyde's Literary History, for a list of the ancient 
 chronicles of Ireland, some of which can be found in trans- 
 lated editions in American libraries. 
 
 Also refer to Revue Celtigue, Ed., de Jubainville. 
 
 See also Publications of the Royal Irish Academy: Hodges, 
 Figgis & Co., Dublin. 
 
 Anecdota Oxoniensa, Mediaeval and Modem Series; Clarendon 
 Press, Oxford. 
 
 England of the Anglo-Saxons 
 
 Alfred's Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. 
 Earle: Anglo-Saxon Literature. 
 
BibliograpKy for TeacKers 55 
 
 William Morris: Sigurd, the Volsung. 
 BuLWER: Harald, Last of the Saxons. 
 Glover: Boadicea (a play). 
 Mason: Caractacus (a play); Elfrida (a play). 
 Strickland: Queens of England. 
 
 Scotland, England, and the Border Country 
 
 Percy: Reliques. 
 Scott : Tales of a Grandfather. 
 Shakespeare: Macbeth (also Hudson's Essay on). 
 Fraprie: Castles and Keeps of Scotland (useful for inci- 
 dental anecdote, lore, and description of customs). 
 Strickland: Queens of Scotland. 
 
 The Normans in England 
 
 General Reference: Freeman, Norman Conquest of England. 
 Lehuerou : Institutions M&ovingiennes. 
 
 Saintsbury: History of French Literature (for Chansons de 
 Geste). 
 
 Feudal Period 
 
 General reference to Middle Ages: Hallam, Middle Ages. 
 
 Baring-Gould: Curious Myths of the Middle Ages. 
 
 Guizot: Histoire Generale de la Civilisation en Europe. 
 
 Brooks: Chivalric Days (Juvenile). 
 
 In connection with the Charlemagne cycle of romances, see 
 Saintsbury as above; for the story of Ogier the Dane, the 
 Danish hero Holger Danske, c/. Hans Andersen; also 
 Dunlop, Hist, of Prose Fiction, for myths of Avalon and 
 Morgan le Fay. 
 
 Sismondi: Literature of the South of Europe. 
 
 Smythe: The Trobadors. 
 
 Lang: Ballads and Lyrics of Old France. 
 
 Lang (Ed.): Perrault's Fairy Tales. 
 
 Kroeger: The Minnesingers of Germany. 
 
 See also, for anecdote and description, into which peasant folk- 
 custom enters : 
 
 Macquoid: Through Normandy. 
 
 Le Braz: The Land of Pardons (Breton) (modern). 
 
56 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 Relations of France with Spain in the Middle Ages 
 
 Poole: Story of the Moors. 
 
 Taylor: Aryans {see reference to Basques). 
 
 Spain 
 
 General Reference: Burke, History of Spain. 
 
 Ticknor: Spanish Literature. 
 
 Southey: Trans. Poema Del Cid. 
 
 Lockhart: Ancient Spanish Ballads. 
 
 Field: Old Spain a:nd New. 
 
 Also, for colour and customs: 
 
 DE Amicis: Spain and Spaniards. 
 
 Baxter : Spanish Highways and Byways. 
 
 Hay: Castilian Days. 
 
 Also Mediaeval Towns Series (Dent, Pub., London); Taine, 
 
 Tour through the Pyrenees; Washington Irving, Conquest 
 
 of Granada; AUiambra. 
 
 Teutons: Goths, Normans, Franks; in Italy, 
 Mid-Europe, and along the North Seas. 
 
 General Reference: von Pflugk-Harttung, The Great Migra- 
 tions (Hist, of all Nations Series, vol. vi.) ; Richards, His- 
 tory of German Civilization. 
 
 Bradley: Story of the Goths. 
 
 Crichton: Scandinavia, Ancient and Modem. 
 
 Scherer: History of German Literature. 
 
 Niebelungen Lied. 
 
 Crawford: Translation of Kalevala. 
 
 Ragozin: Siegfried and Beowulf; Frithiof and Roland. 
 
 Baring-Gould: Iceland. 
 
 Bay: Danish Fairy and Folk-Tales. 
 
 Saintine: Mythologie du Rhin. 
 
 Laing: Eng. Trans. Snorre Sturleson's Heimskringla — 
 Sagas of the Norwegian Kings. 
 
 Brace: The Norse Folk. 
 
 Von Sybel: Die Entstehung des Deutschen Konigtums. 
 
Biblio^rapKy for XeacHers 57 
 
 Gaillard: Hisioire de Charlemagne. 
 
 See also the folk-tales of the Brothers Grimm; and book -list 
 for France and the Middle Ages. 
 
 Holland (the Netherlands) 
 
 See references covering Normans, Franks, Saxons, House of 
 
 Hapsburg, Spain. 
 Motley: History of the United Netherlands. 
 Griffis : Brave Little HoUand. 
 
 DE Amicis: Holland and its People (coloiir and anecdote). 
 See also Dutch in America. 
 
 Belgium 
 
 Juste: Histoire de Belgique. 
 
 Italy 
 
 General reference: Cabot, Italy (Hist, of all Nations Series, 
 vol. vi.) ; Bosco, Compendium of Italian History. 
 
 HoDGKiN: Italy and her Invaders. 
 
 Symonds: Renaissance in Italy. 
 
 Also Taine. 
 
 Freeman: Sketches from the Subject and Neighbour Lands of 
 Venice; History of Sicily from the Earhest Times. 
 
 For reference to the Etruscans and earliest peoples of Italy, also 
 see Edwards, Pharaohs, Fellahs, and Explorers; La 
 Saussaye, Science of Religions; Taylor, Etruscan Re- 
 searches. 
 
 d'Ancona e Bacci: Manuela della Litteratura Italiana. 
 
 Ariosto: Orlando Furioso. 
 
 Bulwer: Rienzi. 
 
 Blashfield: Italian Cities. 
 
 Howells: Italian Journeys; Tuscan Cities. 
 
 Crawford: Ave Roma; Salve Venetia. 
 
 Cavazza: Count Finimondone {genre stories). 
 
 The Holy Roman Empire ; the Crusades. 
 
 General Reference: Bryce, The Holy Roman Empire. 
 Archer and Kingsford: The Crusaders. 
 
58 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Taylor: Land of the Saracens. 
 
 Poole: Story of the Moors. 
 
 GRAY^ Children's Crusade. 
 
 See also France, Germany, Charlemagne, Italy, in this list; 
 
 as also Jews and Jerusalem. 
 Freeman: History and Conquest of the Saracens. 
 
 Switzerland; Austria, Hungary (House of 
 Hapsburg) 
 
 General Reference: Leger, History of Austro-Hungary; Dand- 
 
 LiKER, Short History of Switzerland. 
 Colquhoun: The Whirlpool of Europe: Austria, Hungary and 
 
 the Hapsburgs. 
 Holme: Peasant Art in Austria and Hungary. 
 Radiguet: Celtic Origin of Swiss Institutions (Celtic Rev., 
 
 vol. iii., 1907). 
 Guerber: Legends of Switzerland. 
 Rilliet: Origines de la Confederation Suisse: histoire et legende. 
 
 The Slavs in Europe 
 
 General reference: Stepniak; Leroy-Beauheu. 
 
 Schrader: Aryan Peoples. 
 
 Rambaud: Russie Epique. 
 
 Talvi Robinson: Historical View of the Language and Litera- 
 ture of the Slavic Nation (published, Andover, Mass., 1834; 
 New York, 1850). 
 
 Curtin: Myths and Folk-Tales of the Russians, Western Slavs, 
 and Magyars. 
 
 Brandes: Poland. 
 
 Wiener: Anthology of Russian Literature. 
 
 VOYNICH (Trans, of misc. authors) : The Humour of Russia. 
 
 Pollen: Rhymes from the Russian. 
 
 See also stories and novels of Sienkiewicz (trans. Curtin) and 
 of Turgenev, for general colour and atmosphere, mod- 
 em and historical. 
 
 See also references covering Hungary, Magyars, etc. 
 
 Curtin: Mongols in Russia. 
 
Diblio^rapKy for XeacHers 59 
 
 Ancient Rome and Greece. Byzantium, Con- 
 stantinople ; the Conquerors from the Far 
 East 
 
 Greece 
 
 General Reference: Grote, History of Greece; Bulfinch, Age 
 
 of Fable. 
 Symonds: Studies of the Greek Poets. 
 Gladstone: Homer and the Homeric Age. 
 Lang and Butcher: Trans, of Odyssey. 
 Lang, Leaf, and Myers: Trans, of the Iliad. 
 Buckley: Children of the Dawn (recent; F. A. Stokes & 
 
 Co., Pub.). 
 Becker: Charicles: The Private Life of the Ancient Greeks 
 
 (trans. Metcalfe; Longmans, Green). 
 
 Rome 
 
 General Reference: Gibbon, Mommsen, Freeman, Froude, 
 
 Tacitus, Livy, Julius C^sar. 
 See also Finlay, History of Byzantine Empire, and references 
 
 for Constantinople, and Italy (Etruscans) in this list. 
 Kuhl and Koner: Life of the Greeks and Romans. 
 Lanciani: Ancient Rome in the Light of Recent Discoveries. 
 Church: Pictures from Roman Life and Story. 
 Guerber: Myths of Greece and Rome. 
 Jonson: The Poetaster. 
 Church: Burning of Rome. 
 Melville: The Gladiators. 
 Bulwer: Last Days of Pompeii. 
 Massinger: The Roman Actor. 
 Eckstein: The Chaldean Magician. 
 Lee: Parthenia: The Last Days of Paganism. 
 Ware: Julian: Scenes in Judaea. 
 Massinger: Emperor of the East. 
 Stanley: History of the Eastern Church. 
 
6o The Dramatic Festival 
 
 The Structure of the Ancient Civilisations: 
 Egypt, Assyria, Babylonia, Chaldea. The 
 Jews 
 
 Gen. reference: Rawlinson, Petrie, Wilkinson, Budge; the 
 
 Old Testament; the Talmudic Books. 
 Sayce: Babylonian and Assyrian Life and Customs. 
 Maspero: Life in Ancient Egypt and Assyria. 
 Perry: Land of Temples (Prang). 
 Reber: History of Ancient Art. 
 
 The Jews 
 
 General reference: Millman, Kent, Josefhus; also Russia, 
 
 Spain. 
 Hosmer: History of the Jews. 
 Oliphant: Jerusalem, the Holy City. 
 Sue : Le Juif Errant. 
 
 Asia Minor and the Conquerors from the Far East 
 
 Poole: Story of Turkey. 
 
 Freeman: The Ottoman Power in Europe. 
 
 Grosvenor: Constantinople. 
 
 Persia 
 
 Rawlinson: History of Ancient Religions. 
 
 Bjerregaard: Trans, of Omar Khayyam (with valuable 
 
 commentaries relative to Persian cults). 
 Ridley: Tales of the Genii. 
 See also India, Parsees. 
 
 Syria, Arabia 
 
 Wright: Syriac Literature. 
 See also Sismondi. 
 The Koran. 
 
Diblio^rapHy for Teachers 6i 
 
 Arabian Nights Entertainments. 
 
 Timur (Tamerlane). 
 
 M argot: Histoire de Tamerlan. 
 
 Marlowe: Tamburlaine (drama) (In connection with this: 
 
 Dowden's Transcripts and Studies.) 
 Jenghis Khan. 
 
 Douglas (Trans, from Chinese) : Life of Genghis Khan. 
 AuBiN (Trans.) : History of Genghiscan the Great. 
 See China, Japan, also Hannah: Brief History of Eastern Asia. 
 
 China 
 
 Boulger: History of China. 
 
 Scidmore: China, the Long-lived Empire. 
 
 Giles: A History of Chinese Life. 
 
 Bard: Chinese Life in Town and Country. 
 
 Holcombe : The Real Chinaman. 
 
 Yan Phou Lee: When I was a Boy in China. 
 
 India 
 
 General reference: Hunter, Indian Empire; Weber, History of 
 Indian Literature (Trubner, Oriental Series). 
 
 MuLLER: Chips from a German Workshop; History of Ancient 
 Sanskrit Literature. 
 
 Haug: Essays on the Religion of the Parsees. 
 
 Fables of Bilpai (recent edition pubUshed by E. P. Button, 
 New York). 
 
 Frere: Old Deccan Days. 
 
 Ragozin: Vedic India. 
 
 Kipling: Jungle Stories (selected others). 
 
 Gypsies (Hindu Relationship and Origin) 
 
 Rawlinson : Ethnic Affinities. 
 
 See also History and Folk Literature of other countries. 
 
 Leland: The Gypsy. 
 
 Borrow: Lavengro; Romany Rye; Romano- Lavo-Lil; The 
 
 Zincah (Gypsies in Spain). 
 Gipsy Lore Journal. (Full sets in only a few libraries.) 
 
62 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Japan 
 
 General reference: Aston, Japanese Literature; Writings of 
 
 Lowell (Peecival), Griffis, Lafcadio Hearn. 
 MiTFORD : Tales of Old Japan. 
 See also Scidmore for customs and detail of modern Japan. 
 
 Supplementary 
 
 Negroes 
 
 (In America.) 
 
 Harris: Nights with Uncle Remus. 
 
 (In Africa.) 
 
 Stanley: My Dark Companions and their Strange Stories. 
 
 Hawaii 
 
 Kalakaua (Editor, Hon. R. M. Daggett): Legends and 
 
 Myths of Hawaii. 
 Stevenson: A Footnote to History; In the South Seas. 
 
 The Arctic Regions 
 
 (Folk-Lore and Discoveries) 
 
 Whymper: Heroes of the Arctic, and their Adventures. 
 
 Rasmussen: People of the Polar North. 
 
 Eskimo Folk-Lore (Publishers, Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co.).^, 
 
 The Dutch in Africa 
 
 HiLLEGAS: Com Paul's People. 
 Schreiner: A South African Farm. 
 
 General References 
 
 Literatures of the World Series (Ed. Edmund Gosse) (Publisher, 
 
 Heinemann, London). 
 Story of the Nations Series (Publishers, G. P. Putnam's Sons, 
 
 New York). 
 
Diblio^rapHy for XeacKers 63 
 
 Heroes of the Nations Series (Publishers, G. P. Putnam's Sons, 
 
 New York). 
 Mediaeval Towns Series (Publisher, J. M. Dent, London). 
 Epochs of Modern History Series (Publishers, Longmans, Green, 
 
 New York). 
 MiCHELET and Simpson: Modern History. 
 Dixon: Tower of London. 
 
 Hesdin: Journal of a Spy in Paris (French Revol.). 
 Also Carlyle and Hugo. 
 Griffis: Romance of Discovery. 
 Russell: The Ship, her Story (Stokes). 
 Freeman: Historical Geography of Europe. 
 Guyot: Man and the Earth. 
 Jameson: Celebrated Female Sovereigns. 
 Lossing: Eminent Americans. 
 Froissart's Chronicle. 
 Hawthorne : Notes of Travel. 
 Irving: Tales of a Traveller. 
 Sven Hedin: Through Asia. 
 Trumbull: Studies in Oriental Social Life. 
 Kakuzo: The Ideals of the East. 
 
 Baring-Gould: Origin and Development of Religious Beliefs. 
 Lang: Custom and Myth; Myth, Ritual, and Religion. 
 See also Sismondi for Spain, Arabia, Provence, Italy. 
 
 Art 
 
 Lubke: History of Art. 
 
 Reber: History of Ancient Art; History of Mediasval Art. 
 
 Jameson: Sacred and Legendary Art. 
 
 Prang's Illustrations of the History of Art. 
 
 Drama — ^History of the Theatre 
 
 Mantzius: History of Theatrical Art. 
 
 Magnin: Les Origines du Thedtre antique et du Thedtre moderne 
 "Le Monde Byzantin," Revue des Deux Monies, vol. xciv., 1891 
 Dictionnaire Historique des Mcsurs, Usages et Coutumes des Fran- 
 Qais, by Lachenaye-Desbois (Paris, 1767). 
 
64 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 Brand; Observations on Vulgar Customs, Ceremonies, and Super- 
 stitions (London, 1813). 
 
 Warton: History of English Poetry. 
 
 Pollard: English Miracle Plays, Moralities, and Interludes. 
 
 Michel (Mommerqu6 et Francisque): Thedtre Frangais du 
 Moyen Age. 
 
 Creizenach: Geschichte des Neueren Dramas (Mittelalter und 
 Fruhrenaissance) . 
 
 d'Ancona: Orig. del Teatro in Italia. 
 
 Hastings: The Theatre (London, 1901). 
 
 Gregg: Pastoral Poetry and Pastoral Drama. 
 
 See also Morley, for Drama in England; Moulton, Ancient 
 Classical Drama. 
 
 Lang: Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus; rendered into Enghsh 
 prose. 
 
 Scherillo: Commedia dell' Arte. 
 
 Sand: Masques et Bouffons. 
 
 Crafts and Fine Art Crafts 
 
 Pottery 
 
 Barber: Primers of Art (Penn. School of Industrial Art). 
 The Connoisseur's Library (Publishers, G. P. Putnam's Sons, 
 New York). 
 
 Basketry 
 
 Mason: Aboriginal American Basketry (and other Reports. 
 
 National Museum. 1902. Col. illusts.). 
 Matthews: Navaho Legends (American Folk-Lore Soc. 
 
 Memoirs, v. 5, 1897). (lUus.) 
 Tinsley: Practical and Artistic Basketry. 
 
 Embroidery 
 
 Christie: Embroidery and Tapestry Weaving. 
 Image: ' Designing for the Art of Embroidery. 
 Barber: Drawings of Ancient Embroidery. 
 
Bibliography for XeacHers 65 
 
 Weaving 
 
 Gilroy: Art of Weaving, with account of its rise and progress. 
 Hollister: The Navaho and his Blanket. 
 Priestman: Weaving as an Occupation for Women. 
 
 Dyeing 
 
 Beaumont: Colour in Woven Design. 
 
 Wood Carving 
 
 Leland: Wood Carving for Beginners in Useful Arts and 
 Handicrafts, (1899-1900). 
 
 Matsuki: Catalogue of Antique Carvings from Japanese Temples 
 and Palaces. (lUus.) 
 
 Small: Scottish Woodwork of i6th and 17th Centuries. 
 
 Sanders: Examples of Carved Oak Woodwork in Houses and 
 Furniture of i6th and 17th Centuries. 
 
 Redfern: Ancient Wood and Iron Work in Cambridge. 
 
 Rowe: French Wood Carvings from National Museums; 
 Practical Wood Carving; Hints on Wood Carving, Recrea- 
 tive Classes, and Modelling. 
 
 General References 
 
 Addison: Arts and Crafts in the Middle Ages. 
 
 Beard: Indoor and Outdoor Handicraft and Recreation for 
 
 Girls. 
 Sanford: The Art Crafts for Beginners. 
 Williams : The Arts and Crafts of Older Spain. 
 
 Folk-Songs of Different Countries 
 
 (Published by G. Schirmer, New York.) 
 
 Songs of Italy: Coll. and ed. by Eduardo Marzo. 
 Songs of Germany: CoU. and ed. by Max Spicker. 
 Songs of Sweden: CoU. and ed. by Gustav Hagg. 
 Neapolitan Songs. 
 
 Forty-four French Folk-Songs and Variants from Canada, 
 Normandy, and Brittany. 
 5 
 
66 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Folk-Dances 
 
 Bergquist: Swedish Folk-Dances. 
 
 Newton: Graded Games and Rhythmic Exercises. 
 
 Crampton: The Folk Dance-Book. 
 
 Crawford: Folk Dances and Games. 
 
 Brenmer: a Book of Song Games and Ball Games. 
 
 School-Songs 
 
 Songs in Season (A. Flanagan, Pubhsher, Chicago). 
 
 Bentley: Song Primer; Song Series, Book I.; Song Seriesi 
 
 Book II. 
 Rix: Assembly Song Book. 
 
PART II 
 FOREWORD 
 
 IN Part I, I have considered this subject more 
 as to material for a basic model scheme in its 
 outward arrangement. Part II will emphasise 
 especially the point of the personal values of this 
 aesthetic form of action, drama, in its various 
 modes. The point is of first importance, since 
 we cannot be sure a scheme will fit personal 
 needs until it has been successfully submitted to 
 the subjective test. 
 
 In the pages relating to primary work, I speak 
 of the effect of mimicry of action on faculty in 
 the other arts. It is a case in point of the special 
 tendency to quicken the power of subjective cor- 
 relation of faculties, which makes the vital element 
 of this dramatic feature. There is increasing at- 
 tention given to the better correlation of outer 
 material for study, but the measure by which to 
 gauge a true correlation of such material with the 
 pupil's needs, is observation of the natural cor- 
 relation of his faculties in their stages of awaken- 
 ing. In fact, new forces and ideas are urging 
 themselves so fast upon the educational scheme, 
 
 67 
 
68 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 that the spectacle at present is a bit jmnbled; 
 what strikes one in the work of schools whose 
 aim it is to be progressive and to accept and try- 
 new elements, is that coherence and organisation 
 with a true basis are lacking, and the attempted 
 organisation, where it exists, is artificial; that the 
 new inroad of many and diverse features into the 
 modern schedules has made them almost as arbi- 
 trary in their relation to the natural co-ordination 
 of the child's needs, as the old hideboimd mediaeval 
 mode was in its way. The problem awaits its 
 solution in more accurate response to the inner 
 processes of the child's growth, which in their 
 turn await better understanding. It is in this 
 respect that the real value of the dramatic fea- 
 ture in school work consists when we make it 
 include in its meaning the comprehensive culture 
 of personal activities and the power of creative 
 expression, for it then continually contributes 
 opportunity for the subjective test of true applica- 
 tion of cultural material and method. 
 
 Therefore, than this recreational aesthetic, in 
 its various forms, with the elements of culture we 
 know it to possess, there can be no fitter focus 
 for the co-ordinate arrangement of certain depart- 
 ments of oiu: educational work. 
 
 At least this is a logical basis for an organic 
 plan in developing this work in schools. Without 
 such a logical basis and organic plan, no other 
 cultural feature is so much as this one in danger 
 of fantastic and erratic application, for the reason 
 
Kore^word 69 
 
 that the supply from which to select its material 
 is so unlimited and so varied, and because its 
 own possibilities for employing material are cor- 
 respondingly multiple and diverse. 
 
 The application of drama in school curricula is 
 threefold: first, for personal culture; second, as 
 an adjunct to other studies, as, primarily, history, 
 geography, and literature; and lastly, as a special 
 study in itself, — in its history and literature as 
 well as special aesthetic. It seems practical to 
 supplement the suggested outline and syllabus of 
 the preceding papers by examples of such forms as 
 are of value in this work. These examples are 
 intended merely as illustrative and not necessarily 
 as model ones, but only such as will show useful 
 ways of employing material in relation to the 
 studies appropriate to preparatory work, and with 
 regard to its aesthetic values for the pupils. 
 
 The element of personal culture, the aesthetic 
 element, is inseparable from the application of 
 this dramatic feature, but the extent of this 
 application as a vehicle for history and other 
 studies properly varies with the periods of school 
 work. 
 
 I shall fit this discussion of the application of 
 dramatic forms to the three main divisions of 
 preparatory-school work: first, the primary; sec- 
 ond, the intermediate; and third, the advanced 
 — the "final preparatory" — or high school period. 
 
 In the primary period, understanding it to ex- 
 tend from the kindergarten to classes of nine and 
 
70 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 ten years old children, the element of personal 
 culture is properly the predominant one, and the 
 idea of the forms of drama bringing with them 
 acquaintance with special compositions of art 
 and literature, or the impression of historical 
 facts, is secondary. 
 
 In the intermediate period, — as from ten to 
 fourteen, — the dramatic exercise will be given 
 zest for development by supplying the history, 
 folk-lore, and literature elements as its material. 
 For culture in these subjects it becomes then the 
 liveliest possible vehicle, and even if progress in 
 their study takes some more special importance, 
 the aesthetic values of the dramatic exercise are 
 by no means lost, but will, from this time on, be 
 enhanced in many respects by the supply of 
 always new and interesting material of this order. 
 I qualify this by saying "in many respects," 
 because where the main object is to study or even 
 to improvise from ready-made material, the 
 special subjective values inherent in original 
 composition and improvisation are necessarity 
 subordinated. But it is possible to keep a balance 
 of these values, and such a balance is supposed 
 and planned for throughout the present outline. 
 
 In the section upon the final preparatory period, 
 further developments in the use of forms will be 
 considered, and the use of more advanced material. 
 The study and adaptation to school use of actual 
 forms in the progressive history of drama is 
 especially dealt with, both with reference to the 
 
Fore-word 71 
 
 student's maturing sesthetic sensibility, to which 
 certain of these forms particularly respond, and 
 because of their association with the special peri- 
 ods of history, literature, and, probably, of foreign 
 tongues, which this school period brings with it. 
 
PART II 
 
 FORMS OF PLAYS AND FESTIVALS FOR 
 THE SUCCESSIVE SCHOOL PERIODS. 
 
 PRIMARY PERIOD 
 
 In developing plans for this work the suitable 
 ^ base for the teacher to build upon is the his- 
 tory of culture modified by experience with the 
 individual child. Although it is a platitude to say 
 that the history of an individual's development 
 is analogous to that of the race, — with the modi- 
 fications of advancing civilisation which makes 
 the period of primitive intelligence ever shorter 
 in the individual, — it has proved a most valuable 
 platitude to remember in the development of 
 theories of education. In this matter of develop- 
 ment of temperamental powers and expression, 
 to which the dramatic feature in schools primarily 
 applies, it is peculiarly useful. 
 
 The child's expression of physical exuberance 
 gradually takes form in definite games; his facile 
 state of sense and emotion in their degrees of 
 awakening, and his increasing responsiveness 
 
 73 
 
74 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 to more and more complex outer impressions, — ■ 
 as of action, colour and the rhythms of sound and 
 movement, — bring enjoyment in measuring, off 
 or conventionalising his romping and games into 
 dance and march forms; he mimics action, and 
 delights to bring to his play, colour, in personal or 
 accessory decorations; in which points his ten- 
 dencies to personal expression resemble his primi- 
 tive race ancestor. At the point where the 
 primitive ancestor began to take his mimicry, 
 personal adornment, and dance seriously, and ap- 
 ply it as propitiatory ritual to personified natural 
 forces he feared, the modem child merely con- 
 tinues his expression of these impulses through 
 the progressive forms of play and occupation, — 
 out of school and in, — which constitute the prac- 
 tical culture that is to be his vehicle of expression 
 of matters he will at last take seriously. 
 
 This primary part of dramatic work in the 
 schools is now for the most part planned suitably, 
 and the order is in the main this obviously natural 
 one of rondes, dance, song, games, and simple 
 forms of mimicry. 
 
 The material of it for the most part is folk- 
 tales, ballads, songs and dances, and games, of 
 which suitable collections are now published, with 
 the object of adaptation to school use. These 
 collections are for the most part well known to 
 teachers, but I have nevertheless noted, in the 
 foregoing bibliography, some of those on the public 
 school lists. 
 
Forms of Plays and Festivals 75 
 
 Yet although, for the most part, this feature of 
 work as appUed to grades for Uttle children is 
 fairly simple and adapted to their years, there 
 still seems danger, now that it has at last gripped 
 the popular notion, that the child is to be exploited 
 for the sake of the experiment, rather than that 
 the latter shall be carefully admitted with the 
 consideration that it is first of aU for the benefit 
 of the child's culture. 
 
 For this reason, in the first years of the primary 
 period, the idea of attempting the essentially 
 dramatic should not be the first thought, and the 
 material or inspiration for the recreational periods 
 should be of the simplest, and taken from hap- 
 penings and conditions near at hand, — as a mother 
 seeks for it for her verj'' young children, — rather 
 than from tales and songs from books or ready- 
 made games and dances. Part I of this volume 
 alread}'' prefaces this suggestion, so here we need 
 only sketch a few examples slightly more in detail. 
 Improvisation and mimicry are natural to the 
 child ; with the little child these are more nattirally 
 inspired by what is near at hand, or by suggestion 
 of what is familiar, fi.rst, rather than by attempts to 
 make him fancy unknown or unfamiliar things, and 
 such improvisation is more interesting to him be- 
 cause more real, — and must therefore be more valu- 
 able. A child's fancy develops fast enough, and the 
 natural method it follows is the most wholesome 
 one, even if the fantastic sayings of children over- 
 fed with imaginative tales do entrance their elders. 
 
76 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 To regard this natural interest of the child in 
 present or familiar things, and yet to make use 
 of it as a means of his culture in the fields we are 
 considering, woiild be a very simple and beautiful 
 matter if all our schools were country ones, or if 
 they had, as they might, even in otir cities, some 
 open tree-planted green spaces about them. 
 That it is more beautiful and wholesome for a 
 child to begin his culture in relation to out- 
 door life, rather than predominantly related to a 
 manufactured indoors, makes it the harder to 
 match the actual city conditions with which we 
 have to contend with what we know is best for 
 the child. But taking conditions as they are, 
 there are still means in reach of most teachers 
 for carrying out to some extent their best ideas. 
 There are aquaria and window gardens in school- 
 rooms; there are periods allowed in some schools 
 for natiire study in nearby parks, and even with- 
 out these at hand, even in the city, we hear the 
 wind and the rain, — see trees, birds, and animals, — 
 so that when the teacher says in kindergarten 
 fashion, "How do the branches of the trees wave ? ' ' 
 or, "the birds fly?" or, "How does the wind 
 sing?" or "the rain sound on the panes, or v/hen 
 it rushes down the gutters?" all these things may 
 suggest a mimicry that shall grow to songs and 
 dances and games that with absolute simplicity 
 and without forcing will become gradually, in 
 degree, harmonic, choral, and formal. There are 
 many voices in the wind and in the rain, and 
 
Forms of Plays and Festivals 77 
 
 the leaves on a single branch bow and nod about 
 in so many different ways at once when it swings, 
 that when the teacher asks the children to listen 
 to the high voices, the middle and the low voices 
 in these sounds, and each to choose which he 
 will sing, there may at last grow a vocal har- 
 mony through her guidance; or for a leaf play, 
 when the children choose the rdles of the various 
 leaves, to dance and bow each in a direction and 
 way of its own, yet all remembering to be related 
 in general direction of movement, and in keeping 
 time, — ^just as the branch swings as one thing 
 even with the varied dancing of its leaves, — there 
 grows at last a full dance figure, its individual 
 dancers each dancing a distinct part, but all 
 related in a choral ensemble. 
 
 Once begun, a teacher finds this plan unfolds 
 subjects in all directions, and the most barren 
 schoolroom will begin to yield unsuspected ma- 
 terial from the sights and sounds through its 
 windows, and even here and there from its own 
 furnishings. For instance, a game or a dance 
 of a clock face and its hands can be improvised, 
 the children representing the hours carrying out 
 some action appropriate to the successive parts of 
 the day, the children who are the hands going 
 about to find out what each hour means. The little 
 fish in the window aquaria may suggest dances, 
 there may be games to represent the growth of 
 plants in the window boxes, or as they are remem- 
 bered from the children's experience out of doors. 
 
78 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 Practically, this dramatic feature, as part of the 
 primary period, is best in this form of a kind of 
 recreational gymnastic, a little more lively and 
 on broader lines than the conventional kinder- 
 garten play, and with more scope for original 
 impulses, but still reaching no elaborate form. 
 The beauty of this is, especially, that it can be 
 made the focus of so much of the occupation of 
 the primary time, that it can relate itself so defi- 
 nitely to the various crafts and elementary arts 
 the children are engaged in. Into this I have gone 
 in detail in section II of Part I, and I will here 
 only mention some points that emphasise the 
 connection, especially with reference to its sub- 
 jective force. Ask the child to draw a picture of 
 the fish in the aquarium. It is better to have 
 him go and watch them, and then draw without 
 looking at them, in the Japanese fashion for 
 children to do. After he has done this, let him 
 improvise a game or dance in mimicry of them. 
 When he has done this several times for daj^s in 
 succession, looking at the fish between times, let 
 him draw them again, and see if he has not gained 
 something in his depiction of motion. In model- 
 ling it will be the same thing as with drawing, but 
 the results will be more marked usually in their 
 developments from time to time. 
 
 In the matter of the songs the children im- 
 provise, it is very interesting to them, as they grow 
 old enough, for the teacher to help them to match 
 their songs with the notes of the piano, and then 
 
Forms of Plays and Festivals 79 
 
 transfer them to score paper. It goes without 
 saying that for pedagogical interest the teacher 
 does well to note down also the figures of dances 
 and games the children improvise. 
 
 Mimicry of animals is always highly entertain- 
 ing to children. They can carry it out from recol- 
 lections of their own, and even very small children 
 are amazingly observant of the ways of the crea- 
 tures. They reproduce all sorts of characteristic 
 action of animals to define them, without sugges- 
 tion from the teacher, — as for instance to look up 
 and try to make their eyes goggly and seem on 
 top of their heads like a frog's, or to sniff and 
 munch along the ground, halting and hopping 
 like a hare. And all this mimicry, as I cite its 
 development in the case of the fishes, — this ob- 
 served action transformed into the observer's 
 physical personal possession, — presents its further 
 result again, in awakening and rounding of faculty 
 for the other arts. 
 
 The psychology of the telling of fairy-tales to 
 children seems not yet to have been conclusively 
 threshed out. I believe, for myself, that they 
 should be handled as the essence of poetry, — 
 never explained. But children are, imdoubtedly, 
 frightened by any presentation of these tales 
 which makes their actors out as mysterious and 
 supernatural beings, even if well-intentioned ones. 
 Hobgoblins, witches, and ogres I am sure should 
 be introduced sparingly, and explained as only dis- 
 agreeable old — or young — persons, as the case fits 
 
8o THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 — without too graphic flights as to their traditional 
 characteristics. Fairies, dryads, brownies, and 
 all those cherished creatures lend themselves to 
 eloquent description as having every attraction — 
 but no shivery mystery need attach to them, 
 except only the mild one as to the haphazard way 
 they appear, and their quite irresponsible way 
 of having no apparent headquarters, or visible 
 means of support, — which petty details, however, 
 matter not at all to children. This notion of the 
 matter may be quite irrational, and is advanced 
 timidly; but I am weakly loath to believe in plans 
 of educational propriety that would heartlessly 
 exclude the beloved stock characters of the fairy 
 horde, — whose places would thereafter for ever 
 go unfilled. One shudders to think how dun- 
 coloiu-ed our grown-up thoughts might become if 
 we had n't these elusive and inconsequent com- 
 panions of long ago to leave their trail, and their 
 perfiune and their echo, twisting about our som- 
 brer notions, to keep us a bit fantastic still. 
 
 But with this for what it is worth to the indi- 
 vidual teacher, — when the primary' children show 
 interest in narrated tales, fairy or other, they may 
 fitly be added to the material we are discussing. 
 The test of whether the children's fancy is ap- 
 pealed to, will lie in the interest they manifest 
 in reproducing the story in their games, and how 
 much, and what elements, of it they remember, 
 and their manner of depicting the characters in it. 
 With the mimicry of natural things in the forms of 
 
Forms of Plays and Festivals 8i 
 
 recreation and elementary art crafts, as we have 
 considered them, and later, the introduction of 
 simple story-telling, the primary period is suffi- 
 ciently supplied. 
 
 For this period, for little festival-day amuse- 
 ments in the schoolroom, any of the games, 
 plays, and songs the children have made up, and 
 been interested to repeat and so work them into 
 consistent form, are appropriately given, and a 
 gala atmosphere added by such festive "riggings" 
 and toy accessories as can conveniently be brought 
 by the children from home. Such little festivals 
 among the children themselves wisely replace 
 the exhibitions of their childish prowess before a 
 roomful of spectators. The holiday feeling is 
 given to the children, and the unprofitable, even 
 harmful exploitation of their work from a plat- 
 form, for strangers, is avoided. 
 
 Subjects to build these festival amusements 
 about, are the animal plays, the nature mimicry 
 in songs and dances and games, and the simplest 
 forms of pantomime, plays, or pageantry. There 
 are ideas for season and month processionals; 
 and those representing races of people, the kinds 
 of minerals, trees, and flowers; and especially in- 
 teresting series of scenes may be made to rep- 
 resent the trades the children know about. Of 
 course the story-telling material is the most in- 
 teresting in the matter of giving greater variety 
 for personal characterisation ; but this leads to work 
 of the older children, and to the intermediate years. 
 
82 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 When stories are used for material and told or 
 read aloud by the teacher, it is always more val- 
 uable, as in the case of other material suggested 
 above, to allow the children to improvise their 
 expression from the narrative, than for the teacher 
 to cast it first in dramatic or game form herself. 
 From improvisation upon a plot suggested to them, 
 they will come to inventing and developing plays 
 from their own plots, and this point is enlarged 
 upon in the chapter on the administration of 
 class work. 
 
 The most successftil method must always be to 
 alternate occasions of wholly original work with 
 a supply of sufficient and interesting outside 
 material to perpetually feed the fancy and make 
 the original work progressive. Obviously the sup- 
 plied material is to be increasingly advanced in 
 its nature. 
 
 In planning such simple pageantry, or proces- 
 sionals, and other festival forms as we have just 
 suggested, the teacher finds it almost necessary 
 to make out for her own reference a species of 
 charting for the groups and ordering of each, 
 and a general full scenario. 
 
 In the appendix to this section, in addition to 
 the suggestions for festival forms, and the two 
 types given, is included an explanation of such 
 charts as they should be used in the production 
 of a play. 
 
 For myth and folk-tale material and its pro- 
 gressive ordering for later primary and for inter- 
 
Forms of Plays and Festivals 83 
 
 mediate use, I refer the teacher to the introductory- 
 paper and the bibliography in Part I. The 
 bibliography includes in its several sections a few 
 juvenile books which may be read directly to 
 children, or easily adapted. These may be 
 readily selected from the lists, as for instance: 
 American Indian Fairy Tales, Colonial Children, 
 Children's Stories in American Literature, — Per- 
 rault, Grimm, Hans Andersen. 
 
 For the most part, the bibliography is particu- 
 larly arranged for teacher's reading, so far as the 
 early school work is concerned, my reason for 
 doing this, as indicated in that section, being that 
 the personal narrative of the teacher, out of her 
 own knowledge, has a more lively value for the 
 child than narratives read aloud, with the ex- 
 ception of such writing as is actually for child- 
 ren, and so beautifully told that we grudge having 
 a word changed, — as in Hans Andersen's tales 
 and in poetic forms, where such are within the 
 child's understanding; and in these cases the only 
 requisite is that the reading be as charming as the 
 matter. 
 
 For these departments, I will call -attention 
 again to the books listed under Crafts and Fine 
 Arts, which ought to recommend themselves to 
 the teacher as valuable material for carrying out 
 the accessory possibilities of this recreational 
 sesthetic culture, — as also the lists of Folk Songs 
 and Games, which are directly useful as ready- 
 made material. In the appendices of this Part 
 
84 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 II, I add, with a few references to special material, 
 titles of a few collections of plays, which are of 
 the best possible sort and therefore, if ready-made 
 material is to be used, the kind that is really 
 worth while using. 
 
 One important element of this work needs 
 treatment by itself: the development of structure 
 in dramatic and lyrical forms used. This develop- 
 ment has a direct relation to the child's instinctive 
 sense of proportion, and therefore a distinct part 
 in maintaining and further educating it, which is 
 why the dramatic and lyrical features in modern 
 school-work augment the constructive faculty, and 
 give symmetry to native powers for any work to 
 which they may be eventually directed. 
 
 When young children improvise games or plays, 
 their productions are almost sure to embody, in 
 however crude outlines, a complete plot structure, 
 i.e.: an impulse to action, action, and its result. 
 This logical form — of plainly related beginning, 
 middle, and end — is natural to the direct simplicity 
 of the child's concepts, and it is a lack of appre- 
 ciation of this, on the part of elders, and of the 
 value of its preservation, which often causes the 
 child, when he comes to the period of noticing 
 details, to lose this sense of proportion natural 
 to him, and to have it obscured by bad meth- 
 ods of introducing details to him, by one-sided 
 elaboration of things taught him, and by the alto- 
 gether ill-adapted methods of their addition to his 
 culture. 
 
Forms of Plays and Festivals 85 
 
 For this reason, in the special work we are 
 discussing, — through which more than any other 
 kind of cultural exercise the natural concept of 
 symmetrical structure may be kept clean cut and 
 strong, — when the teacher tries to improve the 
 children's outline plots for plays, games, or other 
 festival forms, it is useful for her to remember, 
 if she is not particularly experienced in this 
 comparatively new feature of work, in which not 
 every one is technically trained, that the child- 
 ren's simple, rough outline — the product of their 
 unspoiled instinct — is more likely to have the 
 necessary basic dramatic structure than many a 
 grovvTi-up improvement, — unless the matter of 
 elaboration is continually subordinated to the 
 structural action. 
 
 Of course the principle of structure is the same 
 in all arts, qualified by the modus operandi of 
 each. In dramatic forms, being properly expres- 
 sion through personal action, their development 
 of plot must be kept in the scope of this means 
 of expression. Not only that, but this means of 
 expression must be that accented. 
 
 But personal action is to be classified, for ob- 
 viously there are other ranges of it than muscu- 
 lar ones. Episodes may be intensely dramatic 
 in their portrayal, without being dependent on 
 predominantly physical activity. Yet there are 
 certain absolute proportionings of physical action, 
 nervous tension or excitement, and speech, which 
 differentiate forms possible in Hterature from those 
 
86 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 which carry on the stage. But in this place 
 further analysis of this sesthetic law is not neces- 
 sary, but only the elementary ranges of it as ap- 
 plied to the simple children's work considered 
 here. 
 
 Yet the law is the same for both elementary 
 and advanced practice, though developed in 
 degree. However simple the plot, the points of 
 its development must be at certain proportionate 
 intervals, and the gauge of these intervals is in 
 their power of sustained progression. That does 
 not mean that there must always be physical 
 action ; it only means that whatever is done, said, or 
 held must sustain the forward action of the plot. 
 A pause, or "picture, " must be suspensive, holding 
 the interest in the main action. A bit of narrative 
 must never be a digression to the point of losing 
 connection with the main interest; it may be 
 used as a means for allowing stureptitious ac- 
 tion — clear to the audience — to be carried out; 
 but it must be a link, or means for a link, in 
 the progression of plot. Action and dialogue 
 must be well knit in themselves, and in their 
 interaction, — in their sustainment of the plot's 
 movement. 
 
 Children's own impro\'isation is likely to have 
 the main action and dialogue clearly suggested, in 
 natiural, and so true, proportion, and this is the 
 backbone of the drama, game, dance, or other 
 festival form chosen. If, therefore, in elaborating a 
 plot for production, additional dialogue, byplay, or 
 
Forms of Plays and Festivals 87 
 
 any explanatory narrative passages at teacher's 
 or pupils' suggestion, are introduced, the teacher 
 may test the proportioning, and help the pupils 
 simultaneously to do so, and to understand it, by 
 trying out these new insertions in connection with 
 the main action, and seeing what ones heighten 
 its effects, and what ones make its movement 
 heavy, and the interest flag. 
 
 A sense of this right proportioning of action and 
 effects, in elaborating these exercises, increases 
 with experience, and the personal aesthetic of dra- 
 matic study — a point previously emphasised — 
 makes the growth of this sense twofold: result 
 of, first, experiment with outward forms, and, 
 second, with personal action. 
 
 Needless to say, the power of maintaining grip 
 on the main theme, through no matter what or- 
 ders of elaboration introduced, is the life of any 
 work of art, or anj^ form of expression. Practice 
 makes it possible to coquette with it ; to apparently 
 digress or be silent, or inert,— yet still to know 
 just the moment when the hold would break, the 
 chain of interest snap, if the next point of the 
 motif were not instantly introduced. The prin- 
 ciples of a law so necessary to all departments of 
 culture are worthy the teacher's attention, and 
 since the child has not yet been hopelessly dis- 
 turbed from his instinctive sense of this law's 
 rudiments, the school can do nothing better than 
 to cherish and develop it in him instead of obscur- 
 ing it, — as the piling on of untimely and ill-pro- 
 
88 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 portioned detail has often been proven to do. 
 Therefore the somewhat technical analysis I 
 submit to the teacher is not out of place, or a 
 matter unnecessary to consider even in the begin- 
 ning years of school. Indeed, it is in these years 
 that such fundamental things need most under- 
 standing on the teacher's part, — for lack of regard 
 for them early is the cause of the loss or dull- 
 ing of many precious abilities in children, — and 
 abilities which are, early, vigorously ready for 
 development. 
 
 Obviously this rule of unity of interest applies 
 to all forms of dramatic representation, only 
 varying in application with the form chosen. It 
 is true, all sorts of exercises are continually 
 presented which are without unity of idea, — 
 and such work, if it deserve the name, is opposed 
 to every natural effort towards the organic and 
 symmetrical. It is not beauty, nor art, — and its 
 employment in schools helps on no consistent 
 progress in culture, but is, rather, a positive force 
 against the faculties of co-ordination and the 
 natural instinct for coherent purpose. Either 
 this now much talked of, and almost frantically 
 adopted, department of dramatic culture is to 
 represent an ill-adapted fad, distracting, and not 
 intelligently educational, or not only must the 
 most appropriate schedules for its outward organ- 
 isation be a matter of careful study, but the intrin- 
 sic unity of its various forms of exercises must be 
 understood and adhered to. Lastly, these specific 
 
Forms of Plays and Festivals 89 
 
 forms in their turn are to be considered, not only 
 for their reflex value as objective forms of art, 
 but very importantly, as exercises in personal 
 culture in the subjective sense. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 IN this appendix are given a nature allegory, as a 
 festival form, and a little play, illustrative of the 
 suggestions given in this section for the use of fables, 
 tales, and simple lyrical action. In addition to this, 
 I would refer the teacher also to the passages on 
 pastorals, in the last section of Part II, and to the 
 material suggested there, if she is not already familiar 
 with the compositions representative of this form of 
 entertainment. While, obviously, the classical com- 
 positions of the eclogue form are not recommended 
 for small children, their study will be found suggestive 
 to the teacher, in the preparation of festivals adap- 
 ted to little children. As for instance, the pastoral 
 element in the Towneley Mysteries, though having 
 farcical elements to be modified, is suggestive of out- 
 lines for certain types of fStes. A Christmas play 
 for little children may be built-on this simple out- 
 line, from the Towneley Mysteries, for instance, as 
 follows: 
 
 First: A rustic farce (which may mean, in the 
 children's version, a country scene, with shepherds 
 and simple country folk for characters, enjo3H[ng 
 themselves in some usual gay manner, and ending 
 with an awed discussion of the prophecy of the coming 
 of a celestial message). 
 
 Second: The appearance and announcement of 
 90 
 
i\ppenclix gr 
 
 the angels that the heavenly messenger has arrived 
 (which suggests its own presentation quite simply for 
 adaptation to the children's play, in either the voices 
 of the angels singing without, only, or also appear- 
 ing in some veiled and softly Hghted way before the 
 country folk) . 
 
 Third: The Adoration (which may be arranged 
 as a tableau copied from any of the famous paintings 
 of the subject, accompanied by the singing angels, 
 without, or arranged as background grouping to 
 the tableau). 
 
 In using forms from these historic " Mystery Plays " 
 it interests children to explain to them that these were 
 the forms of holiday celebration used in England long 
 ago,- — ^or wherever the form chosen was used, — and 
 whatever else of detail about them can be made 
 graphic and real to young primary classes. 
 
 The making out of "plots" or charts, in preparing 
 a play, is indispensable to its smooth production, and 
 orderly production of work is important to the pupils, 
 even if the effects are simple and the play or festival 
 is to be given only for the classroom. Of course for 
 very simple little plays, the ordering of its groups 
 and details may not need writing down, but may be 
 carried in the memory of the teacher and children. 
 In a festival with any elaboration, and in cases where 
 it is useful to give it as a general holiday entertain- 
 ment for the whole school, and not only the small 
 classroom, to schedule its details and groupings will 
 be something the teacher will find she can hardly do 
 without if the festival is to be one enjoyed by every one 
 taking part as well as by those looking on, for it will 
 make all the difference between confusion from lack 
 of plan, and order, with each one in his place at the 
 
92 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 right moment. A method of making out such charts 
 is as follows : 
 
 First, from a scenario of the play or festival, the 
 plan of production is outlined as a whole. This the 
 teacher needs for her own use, and to make a copy of 
 for the assistants who take charge of the separate 
 departments of the production to refer to. It must 
 map out the whole action of the play, with the indi- 
 vidual actors and groups who carry it. Tabulated 
 forms in work of this kind are a great help to the eye. 
 
 Next, the departments of the work are parcelled 
 off, and a chart made out for the work of each. These 
 are given to the assistants the teacher has chosen 
 for the supervision of the play. An assistant, or 
 corps of assistants, must take charge of each depart- 
 ment. As recommended in Part I, it is always well 
 for the teacher to choose so far as possible her assist- 
 ants from among the pupils themselves, for the work 
 of production is as interesting and valuable to them 
 in its way as the participation in the acting, and the 
 pupils are happy to feel the responsibility of it. 
 
 The arrangement of the costumes is one department 
 of the work of production. A chart for these, lists 
 them in detail, with the characters to which they 
 belong. If groups must be ordered on the scene with 
 regard to colour or type classification of costume, 
 this is noted. The acts and scenes in which certain 
 costumes are worn are scheduled, and where there are 
 changes of costume during the play, the cues for exits, 
 change of costumes, and re-entrance of the players 
 involved must be entered in the tabulation. 
 
 For the properties, personal and scenic, there must 
 be charts, noting the actors by whom they are to be 
 used, when and where they must be on hand for use. 
 
7\ppenclix 93 
 
 if they are personal properties; and as to scenic 
 properties, — -which should be separately attended to if 
 the play is elaborate, — the times and places for their 
 use must be designated carefully. Whoever has 
 charge of the properties should be directed to collect 
 them and have them on hand for use at least at the 
 last three or four rehearsals. There is a great deal 
 in getting used to properties just as one gets used to 
 lines and action, although preliminary practice with 
 imaginary properties and setting is training in initia- 
 tive, and necessary, — and too much rehearsing with 
 properties, in producing mechanical smoothness, loses, 
 for the purposes of our special work, some better cul- 
 tural elements. 
 
 The actors themselves, both principals and groups, 
 should be managed in squads, so to speak, so far as 
 possible with a head for each, either an assistant 
 teacher, or, if one of the pupils not acting, one old 
 enough to be responsible. Each head of a squad 
 should have his chart giving the description of his 
 group, the actors in it, if principals, or its divisions 
 or nature, if a dancing, singing, or other non-indi- 
 vidualised group. His chart must designate cues for 
 entrances and exits of the groups or principals; 
 their stage business, position on the scene, costumes, 
 and properties. One head might direct the "calls" 
 of all the principals, marshal them for action, and 
 see to their costuming and properties, — unless the 
 cast were long, and many simultaneous entrances 
 made from different parts of the scene. 
 
 If there is incidental music, the cues for it must be 
 listed, and the correct introduction of it be carefully 
 attended to at all rehearsals. Songs and dances 
 must be looked out for in the same way in conjunction 
 
94 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 with orchestral or other instrumental accompaniment 
 on or off the scene, — even though included in the 
 separate group charts. 
 
 Shifting of scenes, cues for curtains, special light- 
 ing, aU require also systematised attention with espe- 
 cially detailed aides to see to them. Needless to add, 
 the teacher or head supervisor must have in hand 
 copies of all the charts herself, or incorporate the plan 
 of them fully in her own general schedule. 
 
 Such ordering as this should be made at the be- 
 ginning of rehearsing the completed play, and the 
 assistants taking charge of each of these departments 
 of the production should become accustomed to their 
 duties just as much as the actors to their rdles. The 
 object of this is not, however, to give a counterpart of 
 a professional theatrical performance; but in so far as 
 a theatrical performance is at least bound to be car- 
 ried out with system and precision, its plan is worth 
 following, for the acquisition of power to produce any 
 work in that way is valuable. 
 
 To take a simple example of charting, or making 
 "plots" for the production of a play, we may use 
 the little .^sop's Fable play given in this Appendix. 
 It is a play so simple that it probably would not need 
 any elaborate tabulation, but it serves as a clear 
 example, and any production, however simple, gains 
 by a systematic division of its work. 
 
 It would require : 
 
 First: General outline of action, first act and 
 second act. This for the head director. 
 
 Second: The scene plots, one for each act. 
 
 Third : A chart of the principals. If they all enter 
 from one side of the scene, one head would answer for 
 them, if not, two might be needed in cases where the 
 
A.ppendix 95 
 
 entrances were opposite but simultaneous. In this 
 simple play with few principals, one leader would be 
 enough. 
 
 Fourth: Charts for each of the groups, the group 
 of Ants, and the group of Grasshoppers. 
 
 Fifth: There must be a music plot, if there is 
 orchestral accompaniment. If not, the group leader 
 will note the times for singing by his groups, and the 
 leader of the principals, of those he takes charge of. 
 
 Sixth: There will be need of a light plot, if scenic 
 effects are attempted, and not only imagined. The 
 time for moonlight to shine over the scene must be 
 noted at the cue of spoken lines in the play, a lantern 
 moved on the outside of the scene, to shine in, and 
 taken away when it is cloudy and supposed to be 
 dreary. 
 
 Seventh: Properties must be attended to also, — 
 the guitar of the Grasshopper, the bags of meal of 
 the Ants. 
 
 There are usually additional things in plays, as 
 effects outside, of storms, winds, and other sounds, 
 or snow blowing in, and so on. Some one, or some 
 people, must be responsible for these, too. 
 
 Even if this tabulation is not really needed carried 
 out to such an extent of care in this little play, the 
 outline of it here may suggest what is needed for 
 making the schedules to use for more elaborate ones 
 that do need their production systematised. 
 
THE GRASSHOPPERS AND THE ANTS 
 An ^sop's Fable Play 
 
 97 
 
Characters: 
 
 First Grasshopper {the Guitar Player). 
 
 Second, Third, Fourth Grasshoppers, and an 
 Old and a Young Grasshopper. Other Grass- 
 hoppers. 
 
 Leader of the Ants. 
 
 An Old Ant. 
 
 Any number of Other Ants. 
 
 The Great Owl. 
 Place: A Field beside an Ant-hill. 
 Time: Summer, and then winter. 
 
 98 
 
THE GRASSHOPPERS AND THE ANTS 
 
 ACT I 
 
 Scene: The fields in summer; everything green 
 and sunny. The Grasshoppers come running in from 
 either side, dancing and singing. One with a guitar 
 plays while the rest sing and caper. 
 
 grasshoppers' song 
 
 Oh, in this pleasant summer weather, 
 
 Let us sing and play together. 
 
 Who is saying this will end, 
 
 That old Father Time will send 
 
 Cold and snow, winds that blow, 
 
 Freezing all the brooks that flow, — 
 
 Laying all the flowers low? 
 
 Oh, ho, ho ! We don't know 
 
 Anything of cold and snow ! 
 
 All those things are very far! 
 
 Hum — hum, — turn — tum ! Neighbour, play on your 
 guitar ! 
 
 (They caper and dance; the Player stands aside 
 with his guitar. A procession of Ants enters, 
 carrying bags of food. The Grasshoppers stop 
 to look at them, and begin to laugh and jeer.) 
 
 A Grasshopper: Oh, look at the foolish Ants! 
 
 Another Grasshopper: What are they doing, 
 bending over like that and toihng along? 
 
 99 
 
loo The Dramatic Festival 
 
 Third Grasshopper: Think of working like that 
 when it is such fine weather! 
 
 Fourth Grasshopper: Can't one find enough 
 food, without carrying it around in bags? {They all 
 laugh.) 
 
 The Ant Leader: Yes, there maybe is enough 
 food now, but if we only eat it, and don't store any 
 up, what wiU happen to us, when the cold comes, and 
 we can't find any growing any more? 
 
 First Grasshopper : Oh, oh, — there he goes, talk- 
 ing about cold and those disagreeable things! {To 
 the Ant.) We don't believe in your old cold, good 
 Friend Ant, anyway. We may be gone away to some 
 other pleasant country then, too, if this grows cold I 
 
 The Ant: Oh, well, that may be; but you can't 
 teU. Maybe there is no other country, and an3rway 
 you know about this, and perhaps could n't find your 
 way anywhere else. You will be wise to come with 
 us some days, instead of dancing all the time, — and 
 spend some time gathering food for winter. 
 
 A Young Grasshopper: Oh, dear, there he goes 
 again with his talk of winter! What is it, I wonder? 
 Good Mr. Ant, what is this dreadful winter? I, for 
 one, am not afraid of its coming. 
 
 An Old Ant: {Going to the Leader Ant.) Come, 
 come, what are you wasting time with these foolish 
 people for? They will listen to no one. And we 
 have more work to do. 
 
 The Ant Leader: Yes, true enough; we must go. 
 WeU, I 'm sorry for you, for you will surely find out how 
 silly you are being, Mr. Grasshopper and your friends ! 
 {He turns away, and the Ants all go off past the 
 grasshoppers. The grasshoppers begin their ca- 
 pering again.) 
 
TKe GrassHoppers and tKe Ants loi 
 
 Second Grasshopper: What silly old things! 
 Croaking and fussing, and having no pleasant time 
 at all! 
 
 The Great Owl: (Without.) Tu-whit — to-whoo! 
 {He flies in.) Oh, oh, you don't know! It's your- 
 selves, indeed, that are foolish! 
 
 Third Grasshopper: Dear, dear, another old 
 thing to croak at us! 
 
 The Great Owl: Never you mind! To-whoo! 
 You '11 find part of the time it's good to play, but 
 not to spend the livelong day and evening, too, that 
 way! To- whit — to-whoo! You 'd best take my 
 advice, I say. And now I 'm going to fly away. 
 I hope you '11 heed it, foolish creatures; Ants, maybe, 
 you 'd find good teachers. — Tu-whit — to-whoo! {He 
 flies away.) 
 
 {The grasshoppers hop about a moment, and then 
 crowd together as if frightened.) 
 
 Fourth Grasshopper : Dear, dear, — he 's a scary 
 old thing ! 
 
 Third Grasshopper: Come, we 're foolish, hud- 
 dling here! Laugh and sing! {Going to Player.) 
 Play, good neighbour! What 's to fear? {They dance 
 a bit, but not so gaily, and some stop and begin to 
 whisper together.) 
 
 The Young Grasshopper: Oh, you silly ones: 
 I believe you are really growing frightened! Ha-ha! 
 Look, now, — how the moon is shining up over the 
 hill. {Points off to R.) Let us run up there and 
 dance while it comes up. Oh, come, — come along! 
 {He leads the way, and begins hopping off.) 
 
 Other Grasshoppers : {Successively.) Yes, come; 
 it's silly to be frightened by an old Owl ! 
 
 Yes, yes, — so it is! 
 
I02 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 Another: Oh, yes, so it is ! Ha-ha! 
 Yes, yes, come! 
 
 (They all run off, dancing and singing the first 
 verse over again.) 
 
 Oh, in this pleasant summer weather, 
 Let us sing and dance together, etc. 
 
 {End of Act I.) 
 
 ACT II 
 
 Scene: The Field again. Everything is brown and 
 withered. The wind is blowing : "Whoo-whoo!" Aa 
 Ant comes to the door and looks about. 
 
 The Ant: Dear, dear! This certainly is cold! 
 How glad we ought to be that we have our food all 
 safe indoors, and don't need to be running about in 
 the bad weather for it! And where should we find 
 it now, if we had left it still to gather? Everything 
 is dried and dead! 
 
 (A very sad and wailing song is heard without.) 
 Why, what is that? Some people in distress, I 
 should think. 
 
 {He comes down to the Centre, and looks off.) 
 Tut-tut- tut! I believe it is the poor foolish Grass- 
 hoppers! They are hungry and cold enough now! 
 Well, well, we told them all we knew about what would 
 happen, to warn them. I don't see what we can do for 
 them, now; we need all we have stored, I 'm sure, for 
 ourselves and our children! Our children can't be 
 hungry because other people are silly and won't do 
 what they should when they can! {He looks off a 
 while, then goes into the Hill and closes the door.) 
 
The GrassKoppers and tHe Ants 
 
 103 
 
 The Grasshoppers: {Without, singing waiUngly.) 
 Oh, oh, cold and snow! 
 Surely this is what they told us! 
 Now the icy breezes hold us! 
 
 {They enter, slowly, mourning.) 
 What shall we do? What shall we do? 
 What the Great Owl said, was true! 
 Our great folly we repent us, — 
 Now our punishment is sent us ! 
 Ah, too late! Too late, ah! What shall we do? 
 
 {They stop and look about, all crowding in the 
 Centre of the stage.) 
 
 A Grasshopper: There 's the Ants' house. Don't 
 you think they will help us? 'It's cold, and we did n't 
 know it was going to be like this ! 
 
 Second Grasshopper: Help us? I 'd hardly dare 
 ask them after we laughed at them so, when they were 
 working in the good weather ! 
 
 Third Grasshopper: I 'm ashamed, too, to ask 
 them! 
 
 Fourth Grasshopper: Still, we're freezing and 
 starving! 
 
 Second Grasshopper: Pooh, anyway they won't 
 help us! They 're so selfish with all they have, I 'm 
 sure of that; my grandmother told me so! 
 
 Fourth Grasshopper: Anyway, there 's nothing 
 else to do, unless we all die of the cold, and of hunger. 
 Who will ask? 
 
 First Grasshopper : Well, I suppose we must ask 
 
 them. I feel rather foolish, I must say, when we were 
 
 so sure they were wrong and we right in the summer ! 
 
 {He knocks on the Ants' Door. An Old Ant opens it.) 
 
 The Old Ant: Oh, so it's you, is it? Hm, it's 
 rather cold after all ! 
 
I04 
 
 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 First Grasshopper: {Stammering.) Well, you 
 see — we did n't know — 
 
 The Old Ant: (Tartly.) Well, you know now! 
 
 First Grasshopper : (Humbly.) Ah, but we 're 
 very cold and very hungry! Will you not help us 
 just a wee bit? — from your store? — ^You must have 
 so much — 
 
 The Ant : Indeed, and we worked well for it, as I 
 recollect we advised you to do, too! But where is 
 that other country you were talking about? Why 
 don't you go there now? You seemed to be so sure 
 you could find it! It's probably just over the hill 
 where the moon shines! Ha-ha! 
 
 First Grasshopper:' (Miserably.) What other 
 country? — ^I 'm sure I don't know — 
 
 The Old Ant: Oh, you 've forgotten so soon? 
 You boasted well of it, last summer ! 
 
 First Grasshopper: I don't know of any other 
 country; I 'm sure I 've forgotten what you mean; 
 and if I did know, we should n't know how to reach 
 it now — 
 
 The Old Ant : Well, it's now you '11 have to go find 
 it, I think ! — Right over the hill where the moon shines 
 — ha-ha, ha-ha ! And it's a good time now to be danc- 
 ing, to keep yourselves warm, I 'm thinking ; could n't 
 be better! Doubtless on the way, too, there '11 be 
 folks will pay to hear that guitar you carry ! — Or, over 
 there in that place, on the other side of the hill, where 
 the moon shines! Ha-ha! Ha, ha! 
 
 (He goes in laughing, and closes the Ant-hill door.) 
 
 First Grasshopper: (Coming down to his friends.) 
 Oh, dear, now, what shall we do? So, our folly we 
 must rue ! 
 
 All: (Sighing and wailing.) Oh — oh — oh! 
 
TKe GrassKoppers and the Ants 105 
 
 First Grasshopper: I see now there is nothing 
 for it, but to try to find the other country! 
 Another Grasshopper : If there is one ! 
 The Old Grasshopper : And if we 're not all dead 
 before we get there! 
 
 All: (Wailing.) Oh, — oh! — Now we go! — 
 Cold and snow have caught us! 
 
 (They begin trailing off, singing dolefully.) 
 If we 'd listened to a word of the good advice we 
 heard, — cold and snow and hunger had not taught 
 us ! Oh — oh — oh ! 
 
 (They go off. Snow falls in behind them, blowing 
 over the stage.) 
 Now we go, through the snow — 
 Where, oh, where — we do not know! 
 Oh— oh! 
 
 (Their voices die away mournfully without.) 
 
 (End of Play.) 
 
THE GREATEST GIFT 
 A Mid- Year or Spring Festival 
 
 107 
 
Characters: 
 
 The Mother of Life. 
 
 The Four Winds, the Shepherds of the Clouds 
 " (the East and West, the Cold Wind and the 
 
 Warm). 
 The Three Seedlings (the Flower Seedling, the 
 
 Grain Seedling, and the Tree Seedling). 
 The Winter Mists and Clouds — Dancers. 
 The Little Rivers — Pantomime, lines, and 
 
 songs. 
 The Little Wild Creatures — Pantomime. 
 
 io8 
 
THE GREATEST GIFT 
 
 Scene: In the centre of an open space, a great 
 Tree grows on a slight elevation. Its far-spreading 
 roots reach down and about on all sides. 
 
 To the rear, open lands reach off to a partly moun- 
 tainous horizon. 
 
 It is gloomy and grows more so. 
 
 In front of the Tree, among its roots, and near a 
 great hollow in its trunk, the Mother of Life sits 
 brooding, silent, in dark garments that shadow her 
 face. 
 
 Curtains of grey moss hang over the roots of the 
 Tree and down from cliffs that border the sides of 
 the scene. All looks bare about the scene, except 
 the branches of the great Tree, which hang down 
 from above, dark but with leaves upon them. 
 
 At Rise: There is soft, low singing about, as if far 
 and wide from under the ground, — not sad, but a 
 murmur and crooning, without words. Then — weird, 
 windy, piping sounds from without {from R. and L.) 
 and presently two Shepherds enter, blowing lustily 
 on pipes (one enters from L. U. E., one from R. I. E.). 
 They bear on their shoulders bags of leaves — 
 some bright, some brown. Circling around the Tree 
 blowing on their pipes, every moment or so they 
 stop to fling from their bags swirls of leaves. They 
 are frolicsome and boisterous. Finally they stop 
 
 before the MOTHER, 
 
 109 
 
no TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 First Shepherd Wind: Did you see our clouds 
 rushing by, Mother? 
 
 Second Wind : They are spread out well, now, over 
 the sky ! Our brother will have a hard time to chase 
 them to fold when he comes back from the warm land. 
 
 First Wind : If he come, — you mean. 
 
 Mother of Life: Why "if" — boy? 
 
 First Wind: Because who knows if he will come 
 again? 
 
 Mother of Life: Hush, you thoughtless boy! 
 At all events, don't blow such fooUsh words where the 
 birds can hear them! They are wise creatures, but 
 still they rely on you so much, you must remember! 
 
 Second Wind : But may one not jest sometimes, 
 mother? 
 
 Mother: Not idly, boy! Have you not played 
 long enough in my trees to know better things? 
 
 First Wind : Ah, you brood so, mother ! 
 
 Mother: It is dark, and time to rest and prepare. 
 
 Second Wind : Has the light been long gone, now? 
 
 Mother: So it seems; but leave me in peace! 
 My thoughts are longer than Time, and call me. 
 
 First Wind: But first, mother, what are they, — 
 yovii thoughts? 
 
 Mother: Then learn a lesson from them! — They 
 are of many things; of what is growing in the earth; 
 of what it shall be, and what it shall do. — You have 
 your part towards it, you, with your jesting! — So, 
 work, instead ! 
 
 iXhe two Winds swirl about with their leaves a 
 moment.) 
 
 Second Shepherd Wind: {Stopping.) I saw the 
 last of the birds go down over the hills, mother. Are 
 you lonely without them? 
 
TKe Greatest Gift iii 
 
 Mother: They will come back. 
 
 First Wind : (Stops after another swirl of leaves, on the 
 other side of the Mother.) Why do you not go with 
 them, and with the light, — since you love them so? 
 
 Mother: Indeed, and who would do my work 
 for me, then? Each one in his place, — and some- 
 times we must wait in the dark! Now, attend to 
 your place; cover my children, before your brother 
 comes blustering in! 
 
 Both Winds : {Grumbling, but swirling their leaves 
 about again, and blowing on their pipes. The orchestra 
 accompanies them here as if the wail of their blowing 
 echoed far and wide through the woods and country 
 beyond.) First: Hm, — indeed! As if we had 
 not attended to our work! 
 
 Second: As if we had not herded and blown our 
 
 clouds about till our big brother will have it hard 
 
 enough fleecing them! Hm — indeed! Hoo-hoo-oo! 
 
 {They blow and whirl about R. and L.) 
 
 {The Third Brother Wind is heard blowing his 
 
 pipe and approaching.) 
 
 First Wind: Ah, hurry, hurry, — our brother is 
 certainly bringing the cold with him! 
 
 Second Wind: Yes, yes! Ho-ho! 
 
 {They flourish about, scattering leaves. The Third 
 Wind enters with a flourish, scattering a flutter 
 of white flakes from his bag.) 
 
 Third Wind: Ho-ho! ho-ho! Is it time for this. 
 Mother? Is it time? Wool from my sheep — for 
 your children's blanket, mother! Mother, mother, 
 is it time? Ho-ho! {Shouting and approaching.) 
 
 Mother: {To the other two Winds.) See, you were 
 none too quick. Do your work, then go and be still ! 
 Your big brother's noise is all I can stand! 
 
112 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 {The Third Wind blusters about, whirling snow, 
 while the other two retire more slowly, R. andL. U., 
 flurrying leaves about them.) 
 
 Mother: {To Third W.) Hush! You 've no 
 need to be quite so noisy ; you '11 wake my children, — 
 and frighten them so they '11 not dare come out when 
 it 's time! 
 
 Third Wind : Ho-ho I Maybe they '11 never wake 
 up again! Ho-ho! 
 
 Mother: Don't speak of what you don't know! 
 But you were always worse even than your brothers ! 
 
 Third Wind: Ho-ho! But you yourself never 
 know but this is the last time ! 
 
 Mother: I have lived longer than you, foolish 
 boy! What does the Ice tell you, — that holds the 
 story of the light? 
 
 Third Wind: Ho-ho! Whoo-whoo! Even so; 
 even so! Who can tell? Ho-ho! 
 
 Mother: None, surely, who is never still enough 
 to think ! 
 
 Third Wind: Ho-ho! {Carelessly and wildly) 
 Ho-ho! {Blows his snow about.) Don't take it amiss, 
 don't take it amiss, mother! See, I 'm spreading out 
 a fine blanket now for your little ones, mother! I 'm 
 not so bad as I sound ! Ho-ho ! {Swirls about.) 
 
 Mother: Indeed, and if you were, I 'd send you 
 packing! But you're quite rough enough! {She 
 rises and looks about; speaks to herself.) It is more and 
 more dark; it is near the end! {She bends down over 
 the tree roots and looks at the crevices where the moss 
 hangs, and leaves are thrown.) Yes, they are well 
 covered. {Spreads the leaves over with her hands. 
 She rises and enters the Hollow in the Tree and is 
 obscured in its shadow behind overhanging moss.) 
 
XHe Greatest Gift 113 
 
 (_The Third Wind, behind, hooting between his 
 hands, shakes snow all about. The other two 
 Winds retire in their cloaks to the rocks, L. and 
 R. U., and blow softly but more shrilly, to accom- 
 pany the Third Wind. The orchestra reinforces 
 the pipes of the three, and more snow is whirled 
 in from the wings, and settles on the ground. The 
 Third Wind from dancing about, comes to Centre 
 front, and settles down on the roots of the Tree, 
 and pipes loudly, and more wildly, and lustily 
 as if he hugely enjoyed it. Over the cliffs and 
 from behind and all about come silent white and 
 grey mist and cloud children, in a dance of 
 whirling scarves from which snow flies. It 
 grows darker and darker, and the low croon 
 under the earth sounds farther and farther away, 
 and with a longer, slow, rhythm. The Third 
 Wind's piping becomes stronger and turns minor 
 with occasionally a wild harsh call — like a shriek 
 of the wind. His enjoyment turns to impish 
 derision. Suddenly he stops, at one wild note, 
 and as if it were frightened into silence it dies 
 with a quaver; an utter lull falls, while the cloud 
 and mist children sink together back, and settle 
 among the side cliffs, as fogs mass and settle. — 
 Far, far off is heard a long sweet call, like a bird, 
 once. The darkness deepens, with light only 
 catching the white draperies of the mist and cloud 
 children. Out of the intense darkness, just over 
 the horizon a great Star shines (R. U.) The 
 Mother pushes aside the curtain of moss, and, 
 with her cloak partly thrown back, leans out from 
 the Tree opening, and with her hand on the 
 shoulder of the Third Wind, points to the Star.) 
 
114 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 Mother: Look— look! The Promise! Hush! 
 The flood-gates are open; pipe no more! {As if awed 
 the Shepherd Wind holds his pipe suspended. Im- 
 mediately the Song of the Rivers joins far off with the low 
 croon under the earth which has been heard before. First 
 orchestral, low, sweet, then bright with a swift release 
 of sound, — and without, distant, children clap their 
 hands, but softly, and sing, with laughing notes at begin- 
 ning and end.) 
 
 SONG OF THE RIVERS 
 
 {Bright and quick, but soft and distant.) 
 
 All: Oh, ho! Ah — ha, ha! {Laughing notes.) 
 
 Ah, see! See! 
 One Voice: What brightness creeps along our rims 
 of ice? 
 
 Another Voice: Like sweet warm fingers breaking 
 it away! 
 
 Another Voice: What blew upon me like a summer 
 air? 
 
 Another Voice: I thrill.^I wake! 
 Many Voices: We wake ! What fire along the ice, 
 — what lovely fire? — Ho-ho! {Joyfully.) 
 Sisters, awake, awake! 
 The flood gates break — 
 The Star of the Waters calls us ; we are free ! 
 Away! away! 
 {Their voices die, distantly, with accompanying 
 sweet orchestral notes. There is silence again. 
 The Third Wind with a roguish look sets his 
 pipe to his lips, and blows a blast; the mists stir 
 and move towards back slightly.) 
 Mother: Give me your pipe! My children can 
 never hear your brother's, — for your noise! 
 
THe Greatest Gift 115 
 
 Third Wind: My brother's! Pooh, — he will not 
 come. He loves the warm land much too well. The 
 rivers have stopped their laughing, and gone back! 
 .Besides, if my brother does come, that is not saying 
 the Hght will come with him ! {But his blustering tone 
 has become awed and subdued.) 
 
 Mother: Give me your pipe! {Takes it.) No 
 niore! Your brother comes because the light is 
 coming. {Raises her head.) Now, — I scent the soft 
 wind from his pipe ! 
 
 Third Wind: {Derisively.) Ho-ho! {Tries to blow 
 at his pipe in the Mother's hand. She takes him 
 by the shoulders firmly and turns him off, away from the 
 Tree.) 
 
 Mother: Go up there, and sit down on your cliff 
 and be quiet! 
 
 {Slowly and surlily he goes, scrambles on the rock, 
 
 and sits hugging his knees frowning) 
 (r^e .Mother listens, standing with her head in the 
 shadowy hollow of the Tree, her face uplifted. 
 The light over the sky at the back seems to lighten 
 so that the Star -grows paler.) 
 He is far off — but he is coming ! {She muses, turns her 
 cloak again down over her face, and goes hack into the 
 Tree.) Awhile yet I must plan my children's work! 
 {Disappears in the shadow.) 
 
 {Soft music like distant pipes playing. The scene 
 lightens slightly to a soft grey-purple glow. The 
 music makes one think of soft little winds that 
 bring the scents of new tiny flowers; and that one 
 hears the first calls of birds, in scattered, long- 
 drawn notes. A few pale flower-petals blow 
 across the scene from R. U. and catch the fading 
 light from the Star. The Third Wind throws 
 
Ii6 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 back his cloak and peers over the cliff. The other 
 two Winds creep out from L. and R. U. and look 
 and point off R. U. The Third Wind clambers 
 a bit nearer inquisitively. Shrinking, the mists 
 retire towards rear entrance and cluster there.) 
 First Wind: To be sure, — to be sure! He is 
 coming, — our brother ! 
 
 Second Wind: And it's lightening behind him! 
 After all, — it is always so. 
 
 First Wind: Yes, yes, — but how is one to know? 
 
 {More petals blow across scene from Right, and a 
 
 sweeter strain of pipes comes nearer, and echoes 
 
 of soft bird calls, in many directions.) 
 
 Second Wind: After all, it's not so bad to have 
 
 him come back! 
 
 First Wind : We can't be so rough, but I like it 
 just as well. It 's rather pleasant to play with the 
 gentle little waves instead of the great rough ones, 
 and to swing more lazily in the trees ! 
 
 Third Wind : {Grumbling and scrambling upon his 
 rock.) Yes, I suppose he 's coming! No more fun 
 for me! Still, one must rest sometime! 
 
 {The sweet sounds come nearer still. A flurry of 
 
 last year' shaves blows across the stage followed by 
 
 a shower of petals, — and with a final sweet blow on 
 
 his pipe, the Fourth Wind enters. The Third 
 
 Wind, with a cfoss look back, scrambles upon his 
 
 rock and settles down grumpily. The two other 
 
 Winds go towards the New Coming One. The 
 
 grey mists huddle and disappear R. and L. U. E.) 
 
 First and Second Winds : {Severally.) Hoo-hoo! 
 
 We hardly thought you 'd come, brother! No, the 
 
 dark seemed to stay so long! — and our big brother 
 
 blew so loud! 
 
TKe Greatest Gift 117 
 
 Fourth Wind: {Who wears lighter, softer clothing 
 and carries a syrinx. His face is smiling, and his hair 
 fair.) Yes, yes, — ha-ha! (Blows a sweet note or two.) 
 And the light is coming — see! {Pointing to the sky 
 R. U. behind him.) I mujt go about and wake all the 
 children! Are you glad to see me, brothers? 
 
 First AND Second Winds : {Severally.) Yes — oh, 
 yes! I think we are, — ha-ha, — after all! 
 Yes — after all! 
 
 Third Wind: {From his perch half to himself.) 
 But it's hardly time! I haven't half had my fling. 
 If the old Dame now — {Mumbles crossly, but the 
 Fourth Wind blows his pipe to silence him.) 
 
 Fourth Wind : 'Sh — 'sh ! {Laughing and blowing; 
 then runs down, front R. around the Tree trunk. 
 He knocks at the roots where the moss hangs down, 
 and leaning over by the hollow in the Tree blows 
 a very sweet low call there, and laughs softly.) 
 I have come! — A -ah — I have come! 
 
 {His voice is like a breath of summer wind. Then 
 he runs down over the roots and out, off scene, 
 at L. D. {L. I. E.) playing softly as he goes, 
 and gradually ceasing as if in distance without. 
 The two first Wind Shepherds group off up L. 
 beyond the Tree, looking towards the distant 
 horizon R. U. There comes again the soft song 
 of the distant waters.) 
 The Rivers: {Singing together and severally with 
 soft accompaniment.) 
 Voices All: We come! 
 Higher: We come! 
 
 All: High in the hills the treasures of the sun — 
 High: — the sun — 
 
 All: Were given us to bring! — to bring! 
 
ii8 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Lower Voices: Sing, little reeds that grow along 
 the banks — 
 
 High Voices: — little reeds that grow along the 
 banks — 
 
 All: See now with golden rings we bind you into 
 pipes — 
 
 High: — with golden rings! 
 
 All: To wake the fields ! 
 
 Low: — to wake the sleeping fields — 
 
 Higher: — the sleeping fields ! 
 
 High and More Distant: Sing ! — 
 
 {Voices die away, hut orchestra echoes for an 
 interval longer, growing softer, while from cran- 
 nies in the rocks at the sides of the scene little 
 animals peep out, nose about a moment, and run 
 back. With that the music ceases, while from 
 the root crevices of the Tree, three Seedlings peep 
 out. They wear little cotyledons for caps.) 
 First Seedling: {R. of C.) Oh, what was that? — 
 What wakened me? 
 
 Second Seedling: (L. of C.) Who are you? Did 
 you hit against my house? 
 
 Third Seedling: (C) Oh, I heard something 
 very sweet ! 
 
 First Seedling: {Sniffing the air.) And, oh, what 
 a sweet scent in the air! What has gone by? 
 
 Second Seedling: I don't know. Somebody must 
 have ! I was dreaming about a place light and open — • 
 and wide about — Oh, but it 's rather dark here! But 
 some one called us ! 
 
 Third Seedling : I was dreaming too, about music 
 playing around me, — that sounded like what just 
 went by! I was high up somewhere — and saw far 
 away to wonderful shining places! 
 
The Greatest Gift 119 
 
 First Seedling : I can 't remember how it was I 
 came here. 
 
 Second and Third Seedlings: {Severally.) 
 Nor I! 
 Nor I! 
 Third Wind: {From his cliff.) Hoo-hoo! 
 Seedlings : {Severally, frightened.) 
 Oh, what was that? 
 Oh!— Oh! 
 
 {They go back in their nooks.) 
 {The Third Wind laughs and rolls about glee- 
 fully.) 
 {Now the music of the waters sounds orchestrally 
 again and the Rivers' singing is heard nearer, 
 in successive voices: together, medium, and 
 high.) 
 The Rivers and Brooks: 
 We come ! 
 
 We come! 
 Awake ! 
 
 Awake ! 
 {Over the edges of the cliffs at the sides the Brook 
 Sprites come clambering with trailing, shining 
 clothes, and down over the roots of the Tree. 
 They take hands and wind about over the roots ^ 
 crooning little laughing notes, and echoing the 
 words of their refrains from each other and from 
 without. As they pass the Third Wind, he 
 jumps up, laughing roughly, and tries to blow 
 them back, — but they only laugh, with little de- 
 tours passing him and clambering on. The other 
 Winds play more gently with them, blowing at 
 them as they pass.) 
 
 {The Seedlings look out again.) 
 
I20 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 Seedlings : {Severally.) 
 Why — who — ? 
 Why — who are you? 
 
 {Some Sprites stop.) 
 Sprites: {Severally.) 
 Why, we 're the brooks, ha-ha! 
 Don't you know? Don't you know? 
 
 Seedlings: {Severally.) 
 Oh, stop and talk with us! 
 Tell us where you go ! 
 Tell us! 
 
 {Some run on, laughing back and singing.) 
 Water Sprites: Oh — oh — the fields are waiting 
 for us, we must go! 
 
 One Sprite : {Mischievously splashing her veil at the 
 Seedlings as if it were water.) You 're waiting for us, 
 too, ha-ha! {Laughs and clambers on over the roots.) 
 First Seedling: {To Sprites.) Oh — oh — stay! 
 Second Seedling: {Looking about.) It 's getting 
 lighter, see! 
 
 Third Seedling : I thought it maybe never would 
 be light again, as my dream was — 
 
 Sprites: {Near the Seedlings.) It was no dream — 
 but true ! — but true ! We know — 
 
 {Laugh and clamber on.) 
 Seedlings: {Severally.) Oh, stop and tell us, do! 
 It 's still not light! — And we 're afraid, — Oh, do! 
 
 {One Seedling tries to hold a Sprite, who splashes 
 at him, so he lets go, and she runs on laughing, — 
 but all the Sprites then sing as they go, turning 
 and waving back their veils at the Seedlings.) 
 Water-Sprites: {Singing.) 
 Harmonically: We know — we know — 
 High: We know — 
 
THe Greatest Gift 121 
 
 Harmon.: For under the ice and under the snow 
 Still we flow ! 
 
 And there the shining hours that go 
 Leave their jewels still to glow — 
 We know — 
 High: We know! {These Sprites go out.) 
 
 (Others clambering after go on singing.) 
 Distant and high: We know! {Entering.) 
 Harmon.: Where the tree roots pierce and grow 
 So deep down we go — we go — 
 And hear their secrets — so we know! 
 {Soft and echoing.) We know! 
 {They go off towards edges of stage, — some run- 
 ning off and appearing again on edges of rocks, 
 where they dangle their shining draperies over. 
 The Fourth Wind is heard piping again R. U. 
 Birds sound nearer from same direction. The 
 two first Winds stir and look more aroused, 
 towards the horizon R. U., leaving the Water 
 Sprites alone. The Third Wind clambers 
 down from his rock and approaches his brother 
 curiously. There is a flourish of birds' calls near 
 at hand and the Fourth Wind's piping again, — 
 and the Mother looks out from the Tree, her 
 dark cloak off and with soft grey and green 
 garments on. As she looks out, a shower of 
 petals blows from R. U., as if from before the 
 Fourth Wind, and falls in front of her. 
 She looks about happily — and bends over the 
 little Seedlings.) 
 Mother : {Touching the Seedlings on their heads and 
 shoulders gently.) Come! Are you ready? It is time! 
 The Seedlings: {Severally.) Time? {The others 
 look questioning.) What, mother? 
 
122 XHe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Mother: The Light of the World is coming; — 
 what have you to give him? 
 
 {They look in their nooks.) 
 
 Seedlings: {Shaking their heads.) Oh, mother, 
 we don ' t know ! 
 What shall we do? 
 What would he like, mother? 
 
 Mother: What has been given you? Think! — 
 you '11 remember. 
 
 {They are silent.) 
 
 First Seedling: Why, mother, long ago — I 
 thought I dreamed it — was it true? — the little winds 
 brought me sweet scents, and colours shone about me 
 in the light; I danced with lovely things on dainty 
 stems, — and I was one. 
 
 Mother: Go call them; they were flowers, — it 
 was true, — and they will bring your gift! (First 
 Seedling goes to entrance of her nook and pauses watch- 
 ing Mother and other Seedlings.) And you — what fell 
 to you? {To Second Seedling.) 
 
 Second Seedling: Light, and warm winds, good 
 mother, — and I dreamed of bearded stalks, all waving 
 like a sea, — and I was one. 
 
 Mother: Neither was yours a dream, but true! 
 Light fed the blessed grain, with which you grew. 
 Go bring it — for your gift; go to the fields and tell 
 them it is time! (Second Seedling turns to his nook, 
 in the same way as First Seedling and pauses there.) 
 And you? {To Third Seedling.) What bounty did 
 you know? 
 
 Third Seedling: Oh, mother, very high I swung, 
 and all about me sang the sweetest winds, playing 
 about as if I 'd been a harp; — and through a green- 
 gold light — far, far away — I saw bright shining lands. 
 
The Greatest Gift 123 
 
 Mother: Far from this highest Tree, you flut- 
 tered down to sleep, — and having such a glory for 
 your dream, must bring a lovely gift ! So it shall be — ? 
 
 {He thinks.) 
 Third Seedling: Let me go see — oh, mother! 
 {Turns to his nook, and with the others parts the moss 
 to re-enter.) 
 
 Other Two Seedlings: {Together to Mother, 
 nodding.) So — we will go! 
 
 {Exeunt Seedlings in nooks behind their moss 
 curtains. The Fourth Wind re-enters R. U. E. 
 and sits on rocks R. U., playing. Immediately 
 music of birds and streams and soft winds is heard 
 — voices without, and orchestra, a harp among 
 the pieces. The light becomes lovely, like dawn, 
 or the opalescent softness of early spring days. Out 
 from the tree roots at the Mother's feet troop: 
 With the Flower Seedling — //leFiRST Seedling, — 
 Flower-Children— violets, wind-flowers— ^the tiny 
 early things; after the Second Seedling, of 
 the Grain, troop little children, with sprouting 
 grain for caps. They flank at either side the scene 
 over the roots and under the cliffs where the Brook 
 Sprites sit above; the little animals nosing, peep 
 out again. Last of all, and when the tableau is set, 
 the Third Seedling enters from Centre nook 
 alone, carrying a censer, and kneels before the 
 Mother. The First Seedling holds out to her 
 a flower; the Second Seedling a stalk of grain.) 
 Mother: {To Seedlings, smiling.) Your offerings 
 for the Light of the World — what are they then? 
 
 First Seedling: Flowers are Beauty, mother, — 
 so, I bring him Joy! {She kneels before Mother, 
 holding up the flower.) 
 
124 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Second Seedling: And I bring grain for bread — 
 and that is Life ! {He kneels, extending the grain stalk.) 
 Third Seedling: {Rising and with lifted face 
 swinging his censer before the Mother.) Mother, I 
 bring him aspiration from the trees, — that, like this 
 incense, soar up towards the sky! 
 
 {Remains standing.) 
 Mother : — -Whose Light first gave them Life ! 
 
 {Raises her face, looks up, pointing.) 
 
 And now 
 
 {All becomes brighter. All the soft new sounds of 
 spring begin rising as if from all sides in the 
 music of orchestra and voices, on and off the 
 scene, and at a sudden joyful chord the Light is 
 brilliant over all as if directly above the Tree, and 
 shining down through its branches, so its leaves 
 glisten brightly. The sounds of birds' notes rise 
 above all others. The Star has faded in the 
 greater light. The Shepherd Winds all sink, 
 kneeling and subdued, in the circle of light on the 
 ground beyond the Tree, up the scene, except the 
 Fourth Wind, who rises, playing, and comes 
 lightly near the foot of the Tree, and to the Right 
 of it. The Rivers make a joyful undercurrent, 
 nearer and stronger, with their lower voices. All, 
 but the three subdued Winds, who kneel with bent 
 heads, look up.) 
 Mother : He is here ! — 
 
 All: {Echoing harmonically, with instruments ac- 
 companying.) He is here! — He is here! — 
 
 {Repeated, more and more distantly, carried off 
 scene, as if by universal voices, far and wide.) 
 
 (End of Play.) 
 
COLLECTIONS OF PLAYS AND FESTIVAL 
 MATTER 
 
 {Appropriate to Primary Grades.) 
 The Masque of English Trees and Flowers: M. F. 
 
 Hutchinson. Pub. Blackie and Son, London. 
 The Masque of the Woodlands (same author and 
 
 pubHsher) . 
 The House of the Heart: Constance d'Arcy Mackaye. 
 
 Henry Holt & Co., New York. 
 Masque of the Seasons: John Wessex. (Songs, music, 
 
 and dances arranged by Oriska and Rosalind 
 
 Fuller.) Munster Press, Sturminster Newton, 
 
 Dorset, England. 
 
II 
 
 INTERMEDIATE PERIOD 
 
 IN the Intermediate Period the appUcation of 
 material in history and folk-tales begins to be 
 appropriate, obviously, because the active mind 
 of the child is increasingly eager for information 
 about the world around him, what has made it as 
 it is, and he is beginning more actively to correlate 
 what he learns of outside things with his personal 
 life and interests. 
 
 For progressively arranged material, beginning 
 with this time when literary or historical narrative 
 is advantageous, the suggestions in the intro- 
 ductory section of Part I already present a good 
 working basis. The present section will consider 
 some of the main forms of the dramatic exercise 
 in conjunction with such material and their 
 appropriate adaptation to the child's aesthetic 
 development, powers of comprehension, and appre- 
 ciation. 
 
 As the introductory thesis suggests, a geographi- 
 cal progression is more appropriate with young 
 children than a strictly historical one, and the 
 locality interest, information about people, their 
 
 126 
 
Intermediate Period 127 
 
 activities, customs, and arts, best dominate and 
 lead to the historical interest rather than subserve 
 it, — at least, apparently, — for they actually serve 
 its best understanding, finally. 
 
 Interest in the genre type of narrative is natural 
 to children. In the primary period it shows it- 
 self in their observation and mimicry of people 
 about them, and their doings. As they begin 
 to show interest in accounts of people of other 
 places, the teacher may then begin systematising 
 her presentation of such material as that given in 
 Part I, — and for the reasons given there,- — ^while 
 the geographical progression as the elementary 
 structure, gradually develops into a framework 
 for the historical interest. 
 
 By a "geographical progression" in this con- 
 nection, I mean what it will be remembered I have 
 called before a "Folk-Group Method," that is, 
 the taking of our stories in series from group to 
 group according to the most naturally suggested 
 association, racial, historical, geographical, or all 
 three, by a method of genre- or folk-stories, with 
 accounts of racial customs and characteristics. 
 
 We have considered the outward correlation of 
 material; the question of forms of use of this 
 material comes next, — and what may be a logical 
 means of planning their progression. We prob- 
 ably cannot do better than resort to our timewom 
 analogy of the primitive man's development of 
 expression, ritual, and celebration. We may prac- 
 tically use the same order in our development of 
 
128 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 dramatic forms and in our combination of them 
 which we used in the primary period, only now, 
 with children able further to elaborate and formal- 
 ise them, and to appreciate material that passes 
 beyond what is simplest in their own experience 
 and environment, and which belongs to more 
 advanced intellectual attainment. 
 
 In choosing illustrations for this period, prefer- 
 ence is given to a folk-group method that relates 
 itself systematically to historical developments 
 and influences, although it may be subordinated 
 to the genre interest. It seems the richer and more 
 fruitful method, and entirely consistent with the 
 child's growing powers of acquisition and intelli- 
 gent correlation of knowledge. 
 
 For instance, he has already been through a 
 rudimentary interest in immediate environment, — 
 in the current sights and doings close at hand in 
 the world he has entered. In the comprehension 
 of any group of people, near or far, his child-mind 
 can only go a limited distance. When that is 
 traversed, replies to his questions of how and 
 wherefore wiU present the association of facts 
 which introduce him to his first glimpses of history, 
 geography, and the races. But through descrip- 
 tion and his own awakening fancy, he can go as 
 far in comprehension of these different subjects, 
 relative to other times, places, and peoples, as he 
 can go in comprehension of his own immediate 
 group, — its time, place, and doings; and he can, by 
 an intelhgently related method of presenting the 
 
Intermediate Period 129 
 
 groups to him, come to realise their relations 
 to each other, as to history and development, and 
 to his own group, very naturally, and without 
 conscious effort. But a piu-ely contemporaneous 
 racial and national group method may have 
 equal possibilities of interest, and be made, in its 
 way, to lead to the understanding of the history 
 of peoples as well as to relate itself consistently, 
 too, to the child's growth of faculty and intelli- 
 gence. The important points are to develop 
 consistently in these respects whatever plan is 
 chosen, and in the development of this plan, to keep 
 in mind the value of correlating folk-customs and 
 myth with history and classic literature through- 
 out the progression as recommended and instanced 
 in the introductory outline in this volume. But 
 the method given in Part I has been chosen 
 because it presents a satisfactory working basis 
 and a symmetrical progression in the choice of 
 material, so it is with reference to that, that the 
 illustrative forms given will be chosen and dis- 
 cussed. 
 
 The genesis of dramatic forms, as it is manifested 
 historically and in the child's play, is appropriate 
 to its cultural use in the second period as in the 
 first, remaining to be elaborated and built up 
 with more diverse material. 
 
 Taking the simplest forms for a beginning, and 
 adding to the exercise in them, what we did not 
 in the primary period, a special historical asso- 
 ciation, we may choose, in our American schools, 
 
130 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 the Red Indians, for our first group, introducing 
 them in association with the stories of our coun- 
 try's discovery. Good and varied material is 
 cited in the BibHography, and there is such a 
 mass now of ethnological information concerning 
 our Indians that no teacher need be at a loss for 
 it. In this connection I would especially recall 
 to the teacher again the appropriateness of books 
 on American Indian pottery, basketry, and blanket 
 wea\'ing; for the matter of crafts and trades is 
 always of interest to children, and also supplies 
 matter as instructive as picturesque for pageant 
 and other festival use. Also I would call attention 
 to the researches in Indian music made by Dr. 
 Fillmore, Miss Fletcher, and Mr. Frederick Burton, 
 and to the researches of the American Folk- 
 Lore Society, in general. Many of the legends 
 suggest their own forms of reproduction in the 
 dramatic game, but the historic value is enhanced 
 if the children are told of the actual primitive 
 forms of celebration and ' ritual of the group 
 studied, and so the reproduction of these espe- 
 cially suggested. This is in addition to the point 
 before introduced, namely, that primitive forms 
 of action are natural to the child as to the primitive 
 man, and so subjectively appropriate. 
 
 Obviously, the teacher's judgment will gmde 
 her choice of accounts of savage celebrations, 
 and of picturesque and typical features of dance, 
 pantomime, and recitation to be retained, — with 
 such points as commemorate the brutality of 
 
Intermediate Period 131 
 
 savage peoples omitted, or modified to harmless- 
 ness. 
 
 Animal pantomime has been a feature of some 
 of the festivals of American Indians, as of other 
 primitive and savage tribes, — the Australians, 
 for instance, in their hunting dances. I quote 
 here a paragraph from Karl Mantzius's History of 
 Theatrical Art as being suggestive on this point, 
 though from personal experience, one finds the 
 fancy of children in mimicry lively enough with- 
 out much suggestion of method : "... they [the 
 Australians] are capable of imitating the peculiar- 
 ities of the emu, the kangaroo, the frog, and other 
 animals, merely by movements, especially with 
 their arms, — by which they represent the neck 
 either of the emu, or of the kangaroo. Later they 
 deck themselves out with hide or feathers . . . 
 and make masks, which, in a more or less fantas- 
 tic way, represent heads of birds or animals ; . . . 
 the red Indians, in particular, excel in these animal 
 disguises; their bear, dog, and buffalo dances are 
 said to be more like pantomime farces than like 
 what we call dances. Their dramatic point con- 
 sists in making a comical chase after the supposed 
 animals, some of the dancers representing the 
 hunters, others the beasts." 
 
 As a point of history method, there may be 
 a question of introducing the Norsemen to the 
 children earlier than the Red Indians — but as 
 the former's civiHsation was far less primitive 
 than the latter's at the time we readily associate 
 
132 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 them with our own country's history, I give the 
 Red Indians the preference in such a chosen 
 arrangement as the present one. 
 
 The festivals to celebrate peace are as interest- 
 ing as those to arouse the war fury among savages, 
 and their general plan may be used in represen- 
 tations of our American Indian stories. 
 
 The order of a typical one is as follows': 
 
 I. The singing and marking of rhythm on 
 their primitive instruments by the medicine 
 men, while 
 
 II. The dancers, in gala decorations, dance in 
 circles about a central pole bearing trophies^ or a 
 dancer in the centre carries the trophies. All take 
 their steps rhythmically in time with the music. 
 
 III. A pause, for rest, in which the centre 
 dancer, or an especially selected one, relates his- 
 torical events (in the case of the Peace Dance, 
 events of the war just concluded) and eulogises 
 fallen warriors, — at the end of the recital exclaim- 
 ing: "Whose trophies do I carry on my shoul- 
 der?" at which the dancers cheer and cry out for 
 vengeance, and break into their dance afresh. 
 
 This point in a class representation would make 
 a dramatic finale, for the suggestion is sufficient, 
 and to continue and repeat after the manner of 
 the reaHty would be tiresome ordinarily, though 
 repetitions and monotony in pantomimes and 
 
 ' See Mantzius, History of Theatrical Art, vol. i. 
 " Needless to say, scalps, which fact the teacher's discretion 
 will modify. 
 
Intermediate Period 133 
 
 dances, used skilMly, produce parallelisms of 
 effect that have striking dramatic force. This 
 is a point, too, especially exemplified in the ritual 
 performances of savages, and made use of in 
 ecclesiastical ritual, and having a special interest 
 for its aesthetic and psychic effect, in stirring emo- 
 tion and enthusiasm. It is the secret of the march 
 form's stirring of martial feeling. But as for its 
 use in a school exercise, the length and repetition 
 of effects in a recreation or festival performance 
 must depend upon the method of their introduc- 
 tion, — whether as a dance, pantomime, and recital 
 feature complete in itself, or whether they form 
 subordinate episodes of another composition. 
 The knowledge of how to use such effects as this 
 comes with experience in developing structure, — 
 which point has been dwelt upon already at 
 some length in the last paragraphs of section I 
 of this Part II. 
 
 If the American Indian stories lead us to the 
 Aztec Indians, as our introductory paper suggests 
 they may do, there is material in accounts of their 
 festivals for very charming pantomime plays 
 and dances, which are independent of such cruel 
 rites as the preparation and sacrifice of the "Fair 
 God," and other monstrosities of their ritual. I 
 append a passage from Purchases Pilgrims, ^ which 
 
 ' Vol. XV., chap, v., p. 367, of the modem edition, published 
 by James MacLehose & Sons, Glasgow, Scotland, 1906. Mac- 
 millan & Co., New York. Hakluyt Society Publications, Extra 
 
 Series. 
 
134 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 makes a favourable glimpse for school children 
 to get of this remarkable ancient people's customs. 
 "There was in this Temple a Court of reasonable 
 greatness, to the which they made great dance and 
 pastimes, with games or comedies, the day of the 
 idol's feast, for which purpose there was in the 
 middest of the court a theatre, thirty feet square, 
 very finely decked and trimmed, the which they 
 decked with flowers that day with all the art and 
 invention that might be — being invironed roimd 
 with arches of flowers and feathers, and in some 
 places there were tied many small birds, conies, and 
 other tame beasts. After dinner all the people 
 assembled in the place and the Players presented 
 themselves and plaied Comedies, some counter- 
 feiting the deaf and the rheumatic, others the lame, 
 blind, and so on, to seek cure of the idol. The 
 deaf answered confusedly," — etc. (here the narra- 
 tor describes the pantomime of the halt and defec- 
 tive, which is not the best kind of pantomime for 
 children to employ. Then he continues): "others 
 came in the form of little beasts; some were hke 
 Snailes, others like Toades, and some like Lizards ; 
 then meeting together, they told their offices, and 
 every one retiring to his place, they sounded on 
 small flutes, which was pleasant to heare. They 
 likewise counterfeited Butterflies and small Birds 
 of divers colours, and the children of the Temple 
 represented those forms, then they went into a 
 little forest planted there for the nonce where the 
 priests of the temple drew them forth with instru- 
 
Intermediate Period 135 
 
 merits of musicke. In the meantime they used 
 many pleasant speeches, some in propounding, 
 others 'in defending, wherewith the assistants were 
 pleasantly entertained. This done, they made a 
 Maske or Mummerie wth all these personages, and 
 so the feast ended; the which was usually done in 
 their principal feasts. " 
 
 In dealing with the French, Dutch, Spanish, and 
 Scandinavian groups, as well as those from other 
 regions of the old world, it is simpler to deal with 
 them in two sections or stages; first, in connection 
 with the colonisation of this country, with only a 
 brief preface of their European estate and origin, 
 enough for a satisfactory preliminary explanation ; 
 and then not until later, when a fuller idea of the 
 early settlements and their progress has been 
 given the class, to turn back and give special 
 attention to the specific history of origins, cus- 
 toms, myth, and arts of each, as a separate group. 
 
 While, however, for the American child, we 
 make our starting point and pivot of action, so to 
 speak, the birth of this country and its develop- 
 ment as a new civilised world, — nevertheless, so far 
 as possible without confusion or too great digres- 
 sion, it is well to build up the history of the nations 
 through contemporaneous stages, towards any fo- 
 cusing point chosen in the history of civilisation. 
 
 Obviously the focus must be kept in view, and 
 the action of the forces towards it well knit and 
 clear, and, when the audience is of children, the 
 exposition is to be as simple as possible, and the 
 
136 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 features introduced to point the progress, and to 
 illuminate the causes, such as will appeal to the 
 child and impress him. 
 
 As soon as we come to the narration of plain 
 history stories in which the main action is so im- 
 portant that any associated myth or odd typical 
 customs become subordinate, any representation 
 we make of this material, when we use it for a 
 dramatic exercise, naturally exacts the complete 
 dramatic form. In using it as material we pass 
 beyond what can be satisfactorily expressed by 
 dances, pantomime, and games, unless we conven- 
 tionalise certain features of the stories, but I refer 
 to the direct use of the story, and this brings us to 
 the actual complete dramatic form proper, however 
 juvenile. 
 
 Since singing, dancing, pantomime and mimicry, 
 and poetic recital are the earlier steps towards the 
 complete dramatic form of the play proper, their 
 values as cultiiral forms separately and collectively 
 should not be neglected, even when the intellectual 
 material in history and literature advances to 
 points where its dramatic use would seem to find 
 sufficient scope in such play forms as may be 
 carried wholly by free, direct, and unconventional- 
 ised action and use of speech.^ 
 
 The children of the intermediate period are still 
 very young, and while they can be interested in 
 the more intellectual dramatic forms as the pri- 
 
 ' In this connection song, poetry, dance, and pantomime are 
 differentiated as conventionalised action or use of speech. 
 
Intermediate Period 137 
 
 mary children would not be, they still need, as well 
 as love, the more vivid action of song, dance, and 
 lively and amusing mimicry. 
 
 To keep to the rule of correlating folk-myth, 
 information concerning trades, arts, and customs, 
 with history and literature, will continually keep 
 before the teacher material she can supply to the 
 children for the introduction of the elements of 
 dance, song, poetrj^ and lively by-play into the 
 plots that are to reproduce their history narrative. 
 
 But the study of the groups of people in con- 
 temporaneous stages, as we bring their respective 
 historic movements into relation with each other 
 and towards our chosen central point, of itself — 
 through the history of their culture, their arts, and 
 modes of expressing themselves, lyrically or ritual- 
 istically — supplies material for such classwork as 
 we are discussing. It is material that suggests to 
 us how our use of dramatic forms may be kept 
 more evenly advancing, maldng use all along, 
 separately or in combination, of their variety of 
 beautiful and lively forms. We find by such a 
 method that while we preserve a historic unity 
 that gives to the child a very clear and splendid 
 notion of the spread and building of civilisation, 
 and the coherence of its elementary forces, we are 
 applying to him, too, a system of personal culture 
 that has an analogous unity and symmetrj^ Tell 
 a child about the Pilgrim Fathers going through 
 the woods with guns, and he will undoubtedly 
 enjoy incorporating it in his plays and games, — 
 
138 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 and stories and plays about the incidents of thoce 
 brave times need hardly lack action or variety, 
 even when more grim and heroic than gay and 
 attractive. Far be it from me to say that wherever 
 the real human action and the heroisms of history 
 appeal to a child, he should be diverted from any 
 of the interest he can take in them. But it is for 
 the teacher to intersperse the beautiful, the lyrical, 
 the fanciful, or the amusing, with the stories of 
 stem or only practical realities. With grim Puri- 
 tan tales of hardship in the New World may enter 
 the picturesque and poetic legends and customs of 
 the Indians, and the romantic adventures of ex- 
 plorers and seafarers, — and I am loath to omit 
 pirates ! In fact the child himself misses the more 
 brilliant elements after awhile, if only the bare 
 structure of history enters in his lessons, since it 
 is n't solely made up of periods where guns in 
 woodpaths are necessary, and Indians and wolves 
 are to be expected behind the kitchen door. In 
 order to interest children, what is presented to them 
 must have striking features, —in action, in beauty, 
 or gaiety, — but it is a rarely dtill teacher who does 
 not see and take advantage of the wonderful 
 opportunity in teaching history! 
 
 The most striking features, to the child, in the 
 main lines of action that have built nations, as 
 such, are deubtless wars, and venturesome explora- 
 tions, — and this brings up a certain point which 
 calls for more definite facing in our teaching than 
 it always has. 
 
Intermediate Period 139 
 
 The sentiment concerning war, in our teaching 
 of the building of nations, is not iinimportant. 
 For the civilised world to have attained the appar- 
 ent intellectual advance, and the humanitarianism 
 of the present day, and to have been so long in 
 fixing the ethical status of war, would be an incom- 
 prehensible anomaly, if it were not for the fact, 
 that, averaging all our factors, it is to be realised, 
 after all, that, through and through, our civilisation 
 is not as real as it is apparent. We cannot fail to 
 introduce this question of the ethics of war to our 
 school children, if only by the suggestion that our 
 method of referring to it gives, — and we should 
 know what we believe about it now, at least, even 
 though it is late for a supposedly enlightened era! 
 It is true, it is a diffictilt subject to broach to a 
 youth of seven to whom some still barbaric relative 
 has given a toy gun, and who is having an enchant- 
 ing time, killing hundreds of people, and probably 
 wild beasts, in the back yard. But when the hare 
 is caught, so to speak, and really in school, — it 
 becomes our duty ! No doubt it was duty in the 
 back yard, — ^but reforms are slow, and one can be 
 a savage for so short a time, after all! However, 
 when it comes to history, in school or at home, 
 and the point really stares one in the face, then I 
 believe we must attempt to clear it up for the 
 children. We may draw for them an analogy 
 between the dispute of two nations, and that of 
 two men. The more ignorant and unable to use 
 their minds to come to an understanding the men 
 
1 
 
 140 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 are, the likelier they are to fight; and the same 
 holds good of the nations. Yet if the men had 
 never had means of learning to use their minds 
 reasonably, they could not be blamed for using 
 the means they could command to defend the 
 possessions that they had worked to own; and 
 again the same of nations. Therefore in times 
 past, when men have fought because it was the 
 only way they believed they could accomplish what 
 they thought shoiild be accomplished, and if they 
 fought bravely without caring for danger and 
 agony to themselves, they were heroic. Again, 
 in periods when men might be supposed to have 
 been able to settle their disputes more intelligently 
 than by war, if they fought bravely, believing 
 they were right in doing so, thej'' too, were heroic ; 
 as, for instance, who would not say that our Civil 
 War was fought with the sincerest belief in its 
 necessity and justice? And so, of similar cases. 
 
 Surely now, children may begin to learn that to 
 settle disputes by force of arms, even to employ 
 it to hold in check more lawless communities, 
 is a confession of lack of such nobler powers of 
 control and reasonableness as should characterise 
 highly developed human beings. 
 
 I believe such an ethical sentiment as the Inter- 
 national Peace Society inculcates, should charac- 
 terise our dealings with this subject in our schools, 
 and to sum up one method of presenting it to the 
 children is absolutely pertinent here, considering 
 the field of work we are discussing, and especially 
 
Intermediate Period 141 
 
 because of the illustrative forms of exercise it gives 
 opportunity for. 
 
 So in taking up our history narratives, on the 
 whole the war element is better subordinated, and 
 as much as possible other interesting activities of 
 the typical periods introduced, diversified by the 
 matter of legend, and gay and picturesque customs. 
 It is not to be expected that the sober industrial 
 growth of communities, in its large aspects, Avill 
 interest children, but small trades and crafts will, 
 because they become specific and personal, and the 
 intimate charm of character types, and the real 
 everyday doings of people may come into the dis- 
 cussion of them. 
 
 If sufficient personal element and variety of 
 even simple happenings enters into the method 
 of relating genre stories, they have a charm for 
 the child equal to that of even striking hero tales, 
 and often more than imaginative stories have for 
 them. 
 
 Commerce, too, is attractive material, and 
 hinges upon the other mOst striking feature in the 
 tendency of nations-, adventure and exploration. 
 
 These elements need all to be regarded in such 
 a working out of the story of the peoples as will 
 make this department of dramatic culture as rich 
 as it can be, but the thread of them needs to be 
 woven into all parts of the progression, none to be 
 forgotten entirely as if it were broken off some- 
 where in the web, but each instead to be fol- 
 lowed, glinting here, then lost apparently, but 
 
142 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 only to show again later on, till the whole fabric 
 is done, — a tapestry of rich threads, telling coher- 
 ently, as far as it spreads, the story of the world's 
 experience, for the child's culture, and though but 
 an elementary basis, complete and beautiftd in 
 its range. 
 
 In going back from the history stories of the 
 modem era, and the settlement of our coimtry, 
 and considering the parts in the historic westward 
 movement by the several nations, we need to intro- 
 duce the story of the ancient tribal life of the Celts 
 and Teutons, who, through the interaction of their 
 subdivisions with the Romance peoples, and the 
 absorption of elements from the tribes of the more 
 eastern races, went to make up our EngHsh fore- 
 fathers themselves. 
 
 The field of material in this direction is so fuU of 
 splendour, that it would be difficult to choose from 
 it, if it were not that we are dealing ■with children, 
 which consideration must simplify our choice to 
 the narration of the customs and arts of the ancient 
 peoples, — the simplest elements of their myth, and 
 the most peaceful tales from the sagas. The deeds 
 of "heroes" need modifjdng in the telling, doubt- 
 less, though children do not realise the actual 
 bloody barbarism of these old times, even when 
 hearing the tales of them, — and valour was there, 
 and men that were men, doubtless, not giving a 
 thought to danger, and despising agony when 
 deeds were to be done. And these elements of 
 bravery and valour may be, and should be, pre- 
 
Intermediate Period 143 
 
 served in the telling; nothing is less to be desired 
 than an emasculation of our teaching. 
 
 From the rich sagas of the Irish, representative 
 of so high a stage in the civilisation of the early 
 Celts, and from those of the Norse, as well as 
 from the archaeological matter relative to their 
 periods, with their highly perfected crafts, their 
 architecture, boatbuilding, commerce, exploration 
 — not to say marauding, — and their social life, — 
 sxifficient beautiful and romantic material is to be 
 selected for use in this elementary period of study, 
 for scenic pictures, byplay, and main action. So 
 much of this material is so powerfully dramatic 
 that, even in modified form, it fits better with 
 a more advanced school time, and introduced 
 with the fuller study of comparative literatures. 
 But simplified lyric forms of the stories, mth" 
 special interest aroused for their scenes of action, 
 and the contemporary manners and customs, is 
 sufficient heroic material for young children. 
 
 Here is the description of the scene of a feast in 
 ancient Ireland': 
 
 Once upon a time Conor, son of Fachtna, and the 
 nobles of the Red Branch, went, to a feast, to the house 
 of Feidhlim, the son of Doll, the King's principal story 
 teller ; and the King and people were merry and light- 
 hearted, eating that feast in the house of the principal 
 story teller, with gentle music of the musicians, and 
 with the melody of the voices of the bards and the 
 
 ' See Literary History of Ireland, Douglas Hyde, for this quo- 
 tation from MS. in Belfast Museum. 
 
144 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 ollavs, with the delight of the speech and ancient tales 
 of the sages, and of those who read the keenes [ ?] [writ- 
 ten on] flags and books; [Hstening] to the prognostica- 
 tions of the druids, and of those who nvimbered the 
 moon and stars. 
 
 The personal descriptions of kings and heroes; 
 the Amazonian queens who taught feats of arms 
 to the warriors; the troops of young maidens and 
 waiting women attending upon the queens, bend- 
 ing over their embroidery and weaving in the great 
 halls of the barbarically splendid, if primitive, 
 palaces; of the fine instances of their craft in 
 metals, weaving, and embroider}^; all these supply 
 brilliant colotir for representation of the romance 
 and poetry of this period of history. 
 
 The vildng Kjartan is thus described in the 
 Scandinavian sagas ^: 
 
 Kjartan, Olaf's son, grew up at Hjardarholl; he 
 was the handsomest man born in Iceland. He had 
 fine and marked features in his face, with most beauti- 
 ful eyes and fair complexion; he had much hair as fine 
 as silk which fell down in locks. He was large and 
 strong as his mother's father Egil, or Thorolf, had 
 been. He was better shaped than any man, so that 
 all wondered who saw him ; he also fought better than 
 most other men; he was a good smith and swam better 
 than any other man ; he surpassed others greatly in all 
 idrottir^; yet he was better liked and more humble 
 than any other man, so that every child loved him ; he 
 
 ■ Du Chaillu, The Viking Age. Charles Scribner's Sons. 
 ' Feats of skill, mental, warlike, or athletic. 
 
Intermediate Period 145 
 
 was merry and open-handed. Olaf (the Irish) loved 
 him most of all his children. ' 
 
 This description may be compared with that 
 of the Irish heroes Conor Mac Nessa, Cormac 
 Mac Art, and others. 
 
 In the Book of Ballymote, Cormac Mac Art 
 taking his seat in the assembly at Tara is thus 
 described. Cormac Mac Art was King of Ireland 
 in the third centtiry. ^ 
 
 Beautiful was the appearance of Cormac in that 
 assembly, flowing and slightly curling was his golden 
 hair. A red buckler with stars and animals of gold 
 and fastenings of silver upon him. A crimson cloak 
 in wide descending folds around him, fastened at his 
 neck with precious stones. A torque of gold around 
 his neck. A white shirt with a full collar, and inter- 
 twined with red gold thread upon him. Two wonder- 
 ful shoes of gold, with golden loops upon his feet. Two 
 spears with golden sockets in his hands, with many 
 rivets of red bronze. And he was himself, besides, 
 symmetrical and beautiful of form, without blemish 
 or reproach. 
 
 To turn to the vikings again, Mr. du Chaillu 
 also quotes fashions of costumes for warriors 
 from the Konungs Skuggsja. Kings and warriors, 
 particularly, were recognised by the splendour of 
 their accoutrements. 
 
 Sigurd " wore a a blue kirtle and blue hose, high 
 
 shoes laced round his legs, a grey cloak (kapa) and a 
 
 ' Laxdaela Saga, c. 38. " See Dr. Hyde, Lit. Hist, of Ireland. 
 
146 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 grey broad-brinuned hat and a hood over his face, a 
 staff in his hand with a gilt silver mounting at the 
 upper end, from which a silver ring hung.'" 
 
 When we come to looking up glimpses of our 
 ancient ancestors' dwelling places, here for in- 
 stance, from the Irish sagas in the Red Branch 
 Cycle, is the description of Scathach's house. 
 
 The house of Scathach " was built upon a rock of 
 appalling height." . . [Cuchulain] " knocked at the 
 door with the handle of his spear, and entered. . . ." 
 
 [The house] "had seven great doors, and seven 
 great windows between every two doors of them, and 
 thrice fifty couches between every two windows of 
 them, — and thrice fifty handsome girls, in scarlet cloaks 
 and in beautiful' and blue attire, attending and wait- 
 ing upon Scathach." Scathach was the Amazon war 
 teacher to whom Cuchtdain went to learn war feats. 
 
 This quotation I have taken from Dr. Hyde's 
 Literary History of Ireland, and in the same 
 volume is a longer description of Crede's house, 
 from the Dialogue of the Sages, Book of Lismore. 
 It is long, but most of it I cannot forbear quoting, 
 — it carries such beautiful colour, and that is what 
 we want in oiir play settings, and our story-telling! 
 
 Happy is the house in which she is 
 Between men and children and women. 
 Between druids and musical performers. 
 Between cupbearers and doorkeepers, 
 
 " St. Olafs Saga, Eyrhiggia Saga, c. 43. 
 
Intermediate Period 147 
 
 Between equerries without fear, 
 And distributors who divide (the fare) 
 And, over all these, the command belongs 
 To Cred6 of the yellow hair. 
 
 The colour (of her house) is like the colour of lime, 
 Within it are couches of green rushes (?) 
 Within it are silks and blue mantles. 
 Within it are red, gold, and crystal cups. 
 
 Of its many chambers the comer stones 
 Are all of silver and yellow gold. 
 In faultless stripes its thatch is spread 
 Of wings of brown, and of crimson red. 
 
 Two doorposts of green I see. 
 
 Door not devoid of beauty. 
 
 Of carved silver, long has it been renowned 
 
 In the lintel that is over the door. 
 
 Crede's chair is on your left hand. 
 The pleasantest of the pleasant it is. 
 All over, a blaze of Alpine gold, 
 At the foot of her splendid couch. 
 
 A splendid couch in full array 
 Stands directly above the chair; 
 It was made by Tuile in the East, 
 Of yellow gold and precious stones. 
 
 There is another bed on your right hand 
 Of gold and silver without defect. 
 With curtains, with soft (pillows), 
 With graceful rods of golden bronze. 
 
148 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 An hundred feet spans Credo's house 
 From one angle to the other, 
 And twenty feet are fully measured 
 In the breadth of its noble door. 
 
 Its portico is covered, too. 
 
 With wings of birds, both yellow and blue, 
 
 Its lawn in front and its well 
 
 Of crystal and of Carmogel. 
 
 Of the ancient hostelries of the Irish-Celts here 
 is a description from a tale in the Book of Leinster ' : 
 
 Seven doors there were in each hostelry, seven 
 roads through it, and seven fireplaces therein. Seven 
 cauldrons in the seven fireplaces. An ox and a salted 
 pig would go into each of these cauldrons, and the man 
 that came along the road would [i.e., any traveller 
 who passed that way was entitled to] thrust the flesh 
 fork into the cauldron, and whatever he brought up 
 with the first thrust, that he would eat, and if nothing 
 were brought up with the first thrust, there was no 
 other for him." 
 
 Any writer of plays, or teller of stories, or teacher 
 of children knows what such little touches of in- 
 formation as this lend to description and action! 
 There are many such for those teachers who want 
 to look for them. 
 
 As for the grander dwellings of the ancient kings 
 of our Celtic forebears in Ireland, the palace of 
 King Conor Mac Nessa is thus described^: 
 
 • This excerpt is from Dr. Hyde's Literary History of Ireland. 
 ' Here quoted from Dr. Hyde's Literary History of Ireland. 
 
Intermediate Period 149 
 
 It had "three buildings: that of the Red Branch 
 where the kings lodged; and that of the Speckled 
 House, where were laid up the shields and spears and 
 swords of the warriors of Ulster. It was called the 
 Speckled or Variegated House from the gold and 
 silver of the shields, and gleaming of the spears, and 
 shining of the goblets, and all arms were kept in it, 
 in order that at the banquet when quarrels arose the 
 warriors might not have wherewith to slay each other. 
 
 " Conor's palace at Emania contained, according to 
 the book of Leinster, one hundred and fifty rooms, 
 each large enough for three couples to sleep in, con- 
 structed of red oak, and bordered with copper. 
 Conor's own chamber was decorated with bronze and 
 silver, and ornamented with golden birds, in whose 
 eyes were precious stones, and was large enough for 
 thirty warriors to drink together in it. Above the 
 King's head hung the silver wand with three golden 
 apples, and when he shook it, silence reigned through- 
 out the palace, so that even the fall of a pin might be 
 heard. A large vat, always full of good drink, stood 
 ever on the palace floor." 
 
 In the connection of feasts and entertaining, 
 again, the Book of Leinster affords a description 
 of the pagan king's retinue journeying with him 
 to be fed at the house of a retainer' : 
 
 All the Ultonian nobles set out; a great train of 
 provincials, sons of kings and chiefs, young lords and 
 men at arms, — the curled and rosy youth of the king- 
 
 ' Quoted here from passage in the Literary History of Ireland, 
 Dr. Hyde. 
 
150 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 dom, and the maidens and fair ringleted ladies of 
 Ulster. Handsome virgins, accomplished damsels, 
 and splendid, fully developed women were there. 
 Satirists and scholars were there, and the companies 
 of singers and musicians, poets who composed songs 
 and reproofs, and praising-poems for the men of 
 Ulster. There came also with them from Emania, 
 historians, judges, horse riders, buffoons, tumblers, 
 fools, and performers on horseback. They all went 
 by the same way, behind the king. 
 
 Here is a fine bit of pageantry at once! Suppose 
 we were setting a play descriptive of these old 
 times of Ireland, with what a splendid processional 
 this little passage would supply us! With some 
 further references to sources of costume descrip- 
 tion, odd bits here and there to be found, as to 
 manners, ornament, — and to music, songs, and 
 recitation of tales and poems, — our scene building 
 and the group setting and action of oiar production 
 would be readily filled out. 
 
 Here again : 
 
 Briucriu,' the Thersites of the Red Branch, hav- 
 ing built a new and magnificent house, asks King 
 
 ■ The passages from the ancient Irish MS. materials, which 
 Dr. Hyde has incorporated in his volimie. The Literary History 
 of Ireland, have been many of them so applicable to my need 
 here, that, with his kind permission and that of the publishers 
 of his volume, I have drawn upon them largely. My indebted- 
 ness for this I have acknowledged already with pleasure in a 
 prefatory note. The present quotation, as have been those pre- 
 ceding it which have reference to Irish Celtic materials, and, with 
 a few exceptions, those following, are quoted from the Literary 
 History of Ireland. 
 
Intermediate Period 151 
 
 Conor and the other chieftains to a feast, for the 
 house was very magnificent. "The dining hall was 
 built like that of the High King of Tara. From the 
 hearth to the wall were nine beds, and each of the side 
 walls was thirty -five feet high and covered with orna- 
 ments of gilt bronze. Against one of the side walls 
 of that palace was reared a royal bed destined for 
 Conor, King of Ulster, which looked down upon all 
 the others. It was ornamented with carbuncles 
 and precious stones and other gems of great price. 
 The gold and silver and all sorts of jewellery which 
 covered that bed shone with such splendour that the 
 night was as brilliant as the day." 
 
 One more excerpt descriptive of Irish building is 
 again from the same source. ' 
 
 Most of the early Irish Celts' houses were . . . 
 of wood. The ordinary dwelling house was either a 
 cylindrical hut of wicker work with a cup shaped 
 roof, plastered with clay and thatched with reeds, 
 or else a quadrilateral house built of logs or of clay. 
 The so-called City of Royal Tara was, in fact, a vast 
 enclosure, containing a number of different raths, 
 and houses inside the raths. ^ 
 
 " Literary History of Ireland, Douglas Hyde. 
 
 ' As the teacher develops her study of comparative customs, 
 she may interestingly point out to her pupils the similarity in 
 these ancient feudal dwelling arrangements as both primitive 
 and barbaric, as well as a mode among peoples more advanced, 
 and one almost identically developed in aU parts of the world; 
 in the Far East, for instance, the citadel of the Shogunate in 
 Japan, with its central palace, then the dwellings of the daimyos 
 surrounding it, with in their turn the quarters for the attendant 
 
152 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 The buildings seem to have been constructed of 
 the timbers of lofty trees planted side by side, prob- 
 ably carved into fantastic shapes upon the outside, 
 while the inside walls were closely interwoven with 
 slender rods, over which a putty or plaster of loam 
 was smoothly spread, which, when even and dry, was 
 painted in bright colours, chiefly red, yellow, and blue. 
 The roofs were formed of smooth joists and cross- 
 beams, and probably thatched with rods and rushes, 
 much in the same manner as the houses of the peasan- 
 try to-day. The floors appear to have been of earth, 
 carefully hardened and beaten down, and then covered 
 with a coat of some kind of hard, shiny mortar. No 
 doubt some very fine barbaric effects were realised 
 in these buildings, some of which, as is evidenced by 
 the description of Cormac's Teach Midhchuarta, 
 must have been immense. There were as many as 
 seven duns, or raths, round Tara, each containing 
 within it many houses, and each surrounded by a 
 mound, or vallum, planted with a stockade like a 
 Maori pah.' 
 
 The finest house of all, painted in the gayest colours, 
 planted in the sunniest spot, and provided overhead 
 with a balcony, was reserved for the ladies of the place, 
 
 samurai; in savage tribes, the rude stockaded plan of dwellings; 
 and in military orders of government, as that of the Free Cossacks 
 of the Rivers in Russia, whose body grew up almost to indepen- 
 dence, prior to Catherine II's reign. AU these points belong to 
 our work because they bear on the customs and accomplishment 
 of peoples, on their relations to each other, on their progress 
 toward civilisation. 
 
 ' The raths or lisses were embankments of earth, inside which 
 were the houses. 
 
Intermediate Period 153 
 
 and was called the grianan [pron. greenawn], or sunny 
 house. 
 
 Stone, however, was used in places, at a very early 
 date, long before the first century, as seen from the 
 stone forts of western and south-western Ireland, but 
 there was no knowledge of mortar. . . The Danish 
 invasions forced them to construct the round towers 
 in which to take shelter when the enemy was upon 
 them, saving thus their jewels, books, and shrines. 
 The idea and form of the round tower, the Irish 
 almost certainly derived from the East. 
 
 [In a footnote the following is added]: There are 
 three well marked styles of these towers. The doors 
 and windows of the earlier ones are primitive and 
 horizontal, but in the later ones the rude entablature 
 of the earlier towers has given way to the decorated 
 Romanesque arch, and the beauty and number of 
 the arched windows is greatly increased. 
 
 The colour, the decorations of such primitive 
 splendours as are shown to us in the descriptions 
 of these ancient abodes, are quite possible to 
 suggest in scenes, and give scope for delightful 
 work, and for the contribution of properties and 
 accessories from the classes in the crafts, which 
 point is enlarged upon in Part I. To suggest 
 magnitude of an interior, there are a few simple 
 enough principles in the employment of botmding 
 lines to the scene, and in the distribution of the 
 properties and furnishing making up the stage 
 "set." The perpendicular lines bounding the 
 scene in front may disappear, apparently before 
 they reach the ceiling, and for the rear scene the 
 
154 XHe Dramatic Festival 
 
 back walls of the interior may be painted in a reced- 
 ing perspective much exaggerated beyond the actual 
 distance of the stage space. This is supposing any 
 scene painting is possible as part of the class work. 
 The arrangement of properties to fit this exagger- 
 ated perspective assists the idea of distance. At 
 all events they must be so placed in the stage 
 picture as not to counteract the effect which 
 property placed receding perpendiculars are em- 
 ployed to give. This effect of space may be ob- 
 tained also without scene painting, by draperies 
 in long lines at either side of the front, with drapery 
 of some much more indefinite and shadowy colour 
 and tone hung across the rear, and by producing 
 an artificially exaggerated chiaroscuro of light and 
 shadow as substitute for the perspective of line 
 that painted scenes might make easier. Such an 
 effect can be produced bj'- methods of side-light- 
 ing from without, and experiment ■will perfect it. 
 Similarly, in this case, the distribution of properties 
 and fiutiishings must not break the artificial per- 
 spective, and in both cases, if it is possible, the 
 actors must not pass back upon the stage beyond 
 a point where their dimensions would be out of 
 proportion with the exaggerated perspective ! This 
 sounds elaborate for simple school plays, but I am 
 giving it only as the principle for producing an 
 illusion of greater distance than actually exists, by 
 more means than that of painted perspective. As 
 a principle it can be remembered as useful and 
 employed so far as possible. 
 
Intermediate Period 155 
 
 Through the sagas of the peoples run passages 
 which continually give glimpses of their proficiency 
 in the arts and crafts which betoken their degrees 
 of advance in aesthetic refinement. It is only 
 possible to quote a few passages, but through the 
 books to which I refer both in notes and in the 
 Bibliography plenty of rich material will be found 
 suggested. As the Irish Celts represent especial 
 perfection and originality in the art crafts of the 
 Celts, I recommend reference to their archaeology 
 particularly, and have found The Literary History 
 of Ireland a most satisfactory guide to research, 
 because of its comprehensive and clear classifica- 
 tion of subjects. For the same reason, with 
 regard to the culture of the Norse tribes, I recom- 
 mend du Chaillu's Viking Age to teachers. Of 
 this volume I speak particularly later on. 
 
 Ireland is said to have been, anciently, one of 
 the lands of Europe richest in gold, and Dr. Hyde 
 quotes a paper from the Proceedings of the Royal 
 Irish Academy, 1896, to the effect that the fine 
 gold ornaments of the early Irish, as discovered in 
 various archaeological "finds," would have required 
 modem goldsmithing tools to produce. All such 
 hints of methods of work and of utensils are useful 
 as well for general study as for use in illustrating 
 historic scenes in a play. The ancient designs, both 
 those indigenous, and those traceable to the East, 
 surviving in works of stone, bronze, and parchment " 
 
 'The Post- Christian work of the missals makes use of the 
 ancient designs. 
 
156 XKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 may be studied by the teacher in numerous 
 books of design, and copies of old missals, and 
 what features are characteristic and racial pointed 
 out to pupils for their craft work in connection 
 with illustrative work in the scenic embellish- 
 ment of such dramatic presentations as they 
 build upon stories of related periods of his- 
 tory. In this connection, colour schemes are so 
 important to beautiful effect, and in the matter of 
 impression on children's minds, that teachers do 
 well to give accounts of them full place in their 
 work. This applies to colour schemes in metal 
 work, embroidery, weaving, decorations of houses, 
 and costumes. The enamelling process, especially, 
 reached a high stage of perfection with the pagan 
 Irish, and presents rich colour effects. 
 
 Here is a passage giving a hint of the household 
 work and arts of the women of pagan Ireland : ' 
 
 Scathach's daughter sits embroidering and watch- 
 ing the young heroes without on the lawn, from the 
 windows of the grianan, and in the work she is em- 
 broidering [because of her absent thoughts] she put 
 the gold thread where the silver thread should be, and 
 the silver thread into the place where the gold thread 
 should go. 
 
 A Httle farther on I quote from The Viking Age 
 passages relative to the richly pictorial tapestry 
 weaving and embroidery of the Norse women. 
 
 Sweden is rich still in carved doorways, and the 
 
 ' Literary History of Ireland, Hyde. 
 
Intermediate Period 157 
 
 specimens of the crafts of the Viking Age, in orna- 
 ment, and for weapons, prove a high degree of 
 skill in the use of tools, just as has been found to 
 be the case with the Irish Celtic work, in metals 
 especially. I am not in any sense comparing the 
 two cultures here, and it is only possible in our 
 space to suggest to the teacher the value of calling 
 attention to such features of ornamental design as 
 are characteristic of the races in question, either as 
 proven to be indigenous, or adopted and incorpor- 
 ated with native design to an extent to make its use 
 typical. To some teachers such introduction into 
 this folk study of particularity in distinguishing 
 species of design in ornament and other handicrafts 
 may seem an unnecessary detail, but it is to be re- 
 membered that expression through the crafts is as 
 distinctly significant of racial tendency and temper 
 as anything else, — both as to the matter of indige- 
 nous design, and choice in the gradual adoption of 
 foreign additions. It is also a runic, often tragic 
 story of the influence of peoples on each other, — 
 of conquests, of absorption; of the introduction of 
 richer, more refined elements of culture, or, sadly, 
 of the arrested development of beautiftd and peace- 
 ful endeavour, or the intrusion of the coarse or the 
 artificial upon simpler and ingenuous ideals. 
 
 The teacher will find herself amply repaid who 
 gives time to reading at the libraries from the 
 sagas themselves, — such as are translated and 
 available, — but no better guide to the viking 
 sagas for just the material wanted for such a 
 
158 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 department of folk-lore study as this can be had 
 than du Chaillu's Viking Age, cited in this connec- 
 tion, and from which I have largely quoted. The 
 classification of material, as in Dr. Hyde's Literary 
 History of Ireland, is in just the form to be most con- 
 venient and useful to the teacher of the work in ques- 
 tion, malcing it also an invaluable guide to research. 
 Its selection of excerpts from the sagas, illustrative 
 of folk customs, is similarly pecuHarly apt for our 
 purposes. It is perhaps more delightftil gradually to 
 classify, oneself, from one's own. increasing reading, 
 but books where such classification is so satisfac- 
 torily done, and with such pertinence to a special 
 need, the already well occupied teacher must find 
 a boon. My quotations can only indicate how 
 much of immediate utility in this connection is to 
 be foimd in these two volumes and a few others 
 which I mention especially. 
 
 On occasions for the discussion of racial faith, in 
 class work, such a picture as that of the Irish Ely- 
 sium given in various texts is an example of what 
 is appropriate for illustration. Asgard, Olympus, 
 the homes of the gods, and the homes of the dead, as 
 conceived by the various peoples, must enter the 
 class discussion of folk-myth and whatever charac- 
 terises the folk-thought of these things will then 
 need explaining so far as children can understand. 
 If we were dealing with the Greeks, we might tell 
 of their rudimentary behefs, of their folk-lore and 
 its origins, but children would not be ready for 
 talk on the one hand of the faith in the Olympians, 
 
Intermediate Period 159 
 
 too lacking in idea,Kty, and the profundity of 
 Orphism on the other. And Scandinavian poetry 
 bears on its surface, indications of depths for which 
 children are not ready. Only such of it as can 
 be made clear to them, and as is needed for asso- 
 ciation with study, in general, of these peoples, can 
 be given to young pupils. But the peculiar deli- 
 cacy of the Irish Celtic poetry on this subject 
 carries something that can touch childhood; it 
 is far nearer to it than the development of faith 
 in any other peoples in approximately similar 
 stages of civilisation, it seems to me. It is ingen- 
 uous, naive, wistful; the embodiment of man's 
 pathetic longing through all the centuries for a 
 land of peace, where discord never enters, and 
 relations are all adjusted and in tune. And I am 
 tempted to dwell on some selections from the 
 poetry relative to it. To have it here before us as 
 illustrative in this connection I would quote from 
 the familiar Voyage of Bran, the description of 
 the Land of Moy Mell, the Irish Otherworld, or 
 Elysium. ' 
 
 It will be remembered how (I quote from Dr. 
 Hyde) : 
 
 "In the Voyage of Bran a mysterious woman, an 
 'emissary from the lovely land, appeared in Bran's 
 household one day, when the doors were closed and the 
 
 ' The passage I quote may be found in The Literary History of 
 Ireland, above cited. The full poem of course is to be found in 
 the edition of Kuno Meyer and Alfred Nutt. 
 
i6o THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 house full of chiefs and princes, and no one knew 
 whence she came, and she chanted to them verses 
 describing the pleasant cotmtry,' Moy Mell."^ 
 
 The lovely recital from which I quote the pas- 
 sage, in showing us what was the vision of this 
 ancient people, must give a special atmosphere to 
 our thought of them, as nothing else could. Here 
 is what the "mysterious woman" told to Bran's 
 household, to lure them awa^' with her: 
 
 "There is a distant isle, 
 Around it sea horses glisten, 
 A fair course against the white swelling surge — 
 Four feet uphold it. 
 
 Feet of white bronze under it 
 Glittering through beautiful ages. 
 Lovely land throughout the world's age, — 
 On which the many blossoms drop. 
 
 ' Hy Brasil, Connla's Well, Timanoge, and Moy MeU, — vari- 
 ants of the same place. See further for this, Redfern Mason's 
 Song Lore of Ireland, among recent publications. Poetic traces 
 of it are to be found in all the poets and writers of Ireland. It 
 is the "Land of Heart's Desire'' of the modern poet, William 
 Butler Yeats; it is the land under the sea of the enchanted seal 
 people of Western Ireland, and of the islands, the Hebrides, 
 and the Shetlands. It is under the sea, and it is, too, reached by 
 way of the Sidh mounds. Dr. Hyde speaks further of it : " People 
 were sometimes carried there while alone, — or to reach it they 
 either traversed the North-West Sea, entered one of the Sidh 
 mounds, or dived beneath the water." See also: "The Wooing 
 of Etain" in the Book of the Dun Cow, and for the late William 
 Sharpe's incomparably beautiful presentation of the idea, see 
 his drama. The Immortal Hour. 
 
Intermediate Period i6i 
 
 An ancient tree there is with blossoms 
 On which birds call to the hours. 
 'T is in harmony it is their wont 
 To call together every hour. 
 
 Unknown is wailing or treachery 
 In the familiar, cultivated land, 
 There is nothing rough or harsh. 
 But sweet music striking on the ear. 
 
 Without grief, without sorrow, without death, 
 Without any sickness, without debility, 
 That is the sign of Emain, 
 Uncommon, an equal marvel. 
 
 A beauty of a wondrous land 
 Whose aspects are lovely. 
 Whose view is a fair country 
 Incomparable in its haze. 
 
 The sea washes the wave against the land, 
 Hair of crystal drops from its mane. 
 
 There will come happiness with health 
 
 To the land against which laughter peals, 
 
 Into Imchuin [i.e., the very calm place] at every 
 
 season 
 Will come everlasting joy. 
 
 It is a day of lasting weather 
 That showers (down) silver on the land, 
 A pure white cliff in the verge of the sea 
 Which from the sun receives its heat." 
 
i62 XHe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Manannan, the Irish Neptune, chants to Bran: 
 
 "A wood with blossom and fruit 
 On which is the vine's veritable fragrance 
 A wood without decay, without defect, 
 On which are leaves of golden hue. " 
 
 Manannan, driving in a chariot across the sea, which 
 to him was a flowery plain, meets Bran and chants 
 to him of Moy Mell. Prophesying of the death of 
 Mongan, he sang: 
 
 "He will drink a drink from Loch L6, 
 While he looks at the stream of blood; 
 The white hosts will take him under a wheel of clouds, 
 To the gathering where there is no sorrow." 
 
 At line after line of this, we find ourselves 
 exclaiming at its exquisite imagery. It is pagan, 
 fairy, but fvill of glamour, of an elusive light that 
 belongs to reverie, to the inner vision which we 
 feel, but never fitly describe, and the chord of 
 which poetry alone ever touches. Perhaps this 
 poignant faculty of suggestive vision is peculiarly 
 Celtic — ^and Irish-Celtic most of all; I believe it 
 is, and for this reason all the more, the lyricism of 
 Ireland is particularly valuable in our essentially 
 aesthetic field of work. It is never quite sensuous 
 in the heavier emotional or more passionate mode 
 of Eastern and Southern peoples, — but detached, 
 with an elfin touch, that frees it from earth, and 
 makes it truly a thing of vision. The exquisite 
 
Intermediate Period 163 
 
 melodies of early Irish music, for similar reasons, 
 I want to bring into this discussion. The haunting 
 loveHness of what they called their "Faerie Music," 
 once heard, cannot be forgotten; no lullabies are 
 more truly lullabies, — and the cries of their sorrow 
 are out of the depths, — plaintive, lost in grief, 
 wild, — but never with a note of self -consciousness. 
 Throughout, their expression seems that of the 
 naif, — the forever child-hearted, — and the fruit of 
 this must be purest lyricism. The beautiful fairy 
 song of Oonagh, ' of which the original words are 
 lost, has been set to a version of one of the songs 
 descriptive of the Irish Elysium, — the song of 
 Midir to Etain, telling of his fairy kingdom of 
 "Timanoge." 
 
 Thomas Moore has used the melody over-em- 
 bellished for the thread of several songs, but with 
 Mr. Redfem Mason's permission I quote prefer- 
 ably the pure melody unembellished which he 
 prints in his book. Sir Charles Villiers Stanford 
 is the author of the version of "The Song of 
 Midir," set to this fairy melody of Oonagh.^ 
 
 ' Una of the fairies (the same as she of The Faerie Queen) . 
 
 ' For further melodies under this head of "faerie music,'' as well 
 as the other characteristic orders of Irish folk-music, I would 
 refer the reader directly to the George Petrie collection espe- 
 cially. It is edited by Sir Charles Villiers Stanford and should be 
 found in most libraries. In this connection, I would advise the 
 teacher interested, to choose many melodies of each order, and 
 play them over and over, until the special character of them be- 
 comes distinct in her mind: take for instance a series of the an- 
 cient keenes (caoines, Gael.), and of the music of war, which is 
 sorrow, too, to which order they belong, and familiarise herself 
 
"Song Lore of Ireland,*' 
 
 By Redpern Mason. 
 
 IVessels & Bissell Co., N. Y. ' 
 
 ^^S 
 
 ^^^^^E^^ 
 
 $ 
 
 ;i=l^ 
 
 .^^e5 
 
 -,-p g ^a 
 
 =S=* 
 
 iziizi 
 
 i^ 
 
 ^^^^^^ 
 
 '-fr-W- 
 
 
 
 ' Mr. Mason's volume is now published by .The Baker and 
 Taylor Co., New York. 
 
 164 
 
Intertnediate Period 165 
 
 As an example of clearly arranged study of the 
 folk-music of one people, I commend Mr. Mason's 
 book above cited to teachers. In it are given 
 numerous examples of typical Irish folk-melodies: 
 Songs of Work and Play, of Chivalry, Gathering 
 Songs, Lullabies, Songs of Joy and Sorrow, in 
 addition to those of Faerie and Spirit already 
 mentioned. Among the last is given one singu- 
 larly wild and plaintive Irish "keen" and a ban- 
 shee's cry. Lady Wilde gives another, a longer 
 and very weird banshee's cry, in a collection of her 
 folk-stories, — as well as other "faerie music" which 
 I have not found elsewhere. ' 
 
 These points, in connection with our study of 
 folk-lore, especially for dealing with a department 
 like that of festivals with all they imply of the 
 lyric arts and aesthetic culture in general, — ^it 
 must be plain — are not over-subtleties. As in 
 
 with their mode; then the lullabies, then the " faerie music," and 
 then the songs of labour, — as those of the fields, of weaving, and 
 so on, and of merrymaking, — with the dances, — the " planxties," 
 —and the jigs. Needless to say, this is a good method to follow 
 with all folk-music study. One gets the sense of its psychological 
 tendency in this way — not only information about it. 
 
 ' It will repay the teacher to look up such material. The selec- 
 tions I cite are apt as types of the peculiarly spontaneous emo- 
 tional expression which characterises Irish lyricism. Any one 
 who has ever heard an Irish woman "keen " will appreciate this. 
 But sincerity and abandon in emotional expression, even when 
 sympathetic and, so, dramatic, rather than directly personal, 
 are characteristic of peasants, — of simple people generally. The 
 Italian woman's mourning cry is as weird as the Irish woman's, 
 if different. 
 
i66 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 the arts and varied expressions of one people, we 
 find traces of their vision, their special race genius, 
 and so may be helped to judge of their place in the 
 general" growth of humanity, so we may, in similar 
 ways, trace it in other peoples. 
 
 To properly administer a department of festi- 
 vals essentially demands investigation of the psy- 
 chology and aesthetic development of peoples, 
 with a special further correlation and application 
 of the results obtained, and this will shortly have 
 to be given a place in our training schools. 
 
 To continue with suggestions of romantic mate- 
 rial of the peoples selected here to illustrate a plan 
 of comparative study of folk-lore, history and arts, 
 for application to our work, it will repay us to look 
 into that part of Ireland's culture which went 
 beyond the naive folk-myth, and the most ancient 
 epic products. The customs in connection with 
 the bardic schools, among the Irish Celts, for 
 instance, — the judicial supremacy of the arch- 
 oUavs and the long lasting influence it had, the 
 periodic contests for this office, with their pictur- 
 esque features, the position of these poets at the 
 courts of the chieftains and kings, their relation to 
 the Christian fathers — the early "saints" from 
 Rome, — and the tales of their adoption of the 
 Christian faith, — about all these things is gathered 
 a mass of wonderful lore. Further than to outline 
 features of it, and to give sources for research, 
 incidentally, or in the foregoing Bibliography, is 
 not in the intended scope of this book. Such 
 
Intermediate Period 167 
 
 features as are appropriate to dwell upon some- 
 what especially are those which most nearly relate 
 to development in the arts, and to those features 
 which give coloiir for our special work, and suggest 
 vistas for its development. 
 
 The tragedy of the ultimate persecution of the 
 bards in Ireland belongs rightly to a period of 
 history later than the one I am considering for the 
 intermediate years of school work, but the story 
 of the daj^s when their sway was undisturbed, when 
 they were tritimphantly welcome everywhere they 
 went, is full of colour and romance of the kind to be 
 peculiarly valuable for illustration in our festival 
 departments. 
 
 The ancient stories of the invention of the Irish 
 harp, ' of its three kinds of strings — of iron, bronze, 
 and silver, which stood for its three kinds of music, 
 that of sleep, that of laughter, and that of tears,- — 
 set the keynote of the glamour that surrounds the 
 Irish harp, and that has never left the thought of 
 it. With only myth and tradition to depend on, 
 there is no authentic knowledge of what the 
 Irish harp was most anciently like: whether it 
 really had three kinds of metal strings or not. In 
 no archasological finds has one yet been discovered, 
 and even of more modern harps, the last one 
 
 ' Given delightfully in Mr. Mason's Song Lore of Ireland. 
 See also Grattan Flood, History of Irish Music. I make my 
 abstract of the story of the harp of the Tuatha de Danaan from 
 Mr. Mason's book, with his kind permission. 
 
 ' Compare accounts of the modes of ancient Greek music 
 especially. 
 
1 68 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 known to be used by a travelling bard was lost 
 sight of after 1810. During the times of the 
 persecution of the bards, by EngUsh edict, their 
 instruments were to be destroyed wherever fovind. 
 The poor owners, themselves, were hanged! But 
 the poetic stories of the music played upon them, 
 of the occasions where it made a chief feattu-e of 
 the entertainments and feasts, remain to us for 
 charming material. The mythical tale of the 
 capture by the Fomorians of the harp of the 
 Tuatha de Danaan, and of its recapture from their 
 very midst by the chief Druid, to whose voice it 
 responded, leaping from the wall where it was 
 hung, to come to him, and at once then playing, 
 after it had been spellbound in silence before, is an 
 example of the underlying poetic symbolism which 
 is inseparable from most of the myth of this early 
 race; this tale, of coiu"se, carries with it the mean- 
 ing that only to the initiate of soul will beauty, 
 poetry, and music truly respond. 
 
 Before I end my references to the lyric expres- 
 sion of the ancient Irish, I want to include another 
 passage from the ancient poetry. ' 
 
 ' This passage, " Credo's Lament over her Husband Slain," is 
 quoted from Dr. Hyde's Literary History of Ireland. It is cited 
 by him as from Dr. O'Grady's translation. Beautifully rendered 
 in rhythmic prose, it carries, better than any explanation can do, 
 the idea of the eloquent pathos of the emotional expression which 
 characterises Irish song and poetry. The peculiar emphasis 
 produced by the timing of repetitions and transpositions of phrase 
 is a characteristic and very beautiful mode, and has, plainly, 
 sesthetic values to be noted especially in making use of it for 
 
Intermediate Period 169 
 
 Credo's Lament over her Husband Slain 
 
 "The haven roars, and O the haven roars, over the 
 rushing race of Rinn-da-bharc. The drowning of the 
 warrior of Loch-da-chonn, that is what the wave 
 impinging on the strand laments. Melodious is the 
 crane, and melodious is the crane, in the marsh 
 lands of Druim-da-thr^n. 'T is she who may not 
 save her brood alive. The wild dog of two colours 
 is intent upon her nestlings. A woful note, and O a 
 woful note is that which the thrush in Drtunqueen 
 emits, but not more cheerful is the wail which the 
 blackbird makes in Letterlee. A woful sound, and O 
 a woful sound, is that the deer utters in Drumdaleish. 
 Dead lies the doe of Dnunsheelin, the mighty stag 
 bells after her. Sore suffering, and O suffering sore, 
 is the hero's death, who used to lie by me. Sore 
 suffering to me is Gael, and O Gael is a suffering sore, 
 that by my side he is in dead man's form; that the 
 wave should have swept over his white body, that is 
 what hath distracted me, so great was his delight- 
 fulness. A dismal roar, and a dismal roar, is 
 that the shore's surf makes upon the strand. . . . 
 
 A woful booming, and O a boom of woe, is that 
 which the wave makes upon the northward beach, 
 butting against the polished rock, lamenting for Gael 
 now that he is gone. A woful fight, and a fight 
 of woe, is that the wave wages with the southern 
 shore. A woful melody, and a melody of woe, 
 is that which the heavy surge of Tullacleish emits. 
 
 illustrative poetic and dramatic work. Cf. also: Kuno Meyer, 
 Anecdota Oxoniensa, Battle of Ventry; Dialogue of the Ancients, 
 Book of Lismore. 
 
170 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 As for me, the calamity fallen upon me has shattered 
 me; — for me prosperity exists no more. " 
 
 To turn again to dwellings of otir ancestors in 
 barbaric times: for Teutonic examples, the dwell- 
 ings in the Viking Age which we have selected to 
 look into for typical material were not in their 
 main plan dissimilar from those of the Irish Celts 
 concerning which we have already inserted de- 
 scriptive passages. ' 
 
 Their bmldings were enclosed in a quadrangular 
 court, with a grass plot or tun, and stu^rounded 
 by a fence — gaard, — "high and well-closed," and 
 having an entrance gate. The roofs of the build- 
 ings were "shingle-covered and tarred."^ 
 
 " Olaf Haskuldson had a hall larger and more mag- 
 nificent than people had ever seen ; on the wall and on 
 the ceiling famous sagas were carved with such skill 
 that the hall was thought to be far more splendid 
 when the hangings were taken down."^ 
 
 The halls and buildings were of wood only. The 
 doors and the benches along the walls were finely 
 carved, shields adorned the walls, and they were 
 also adorned with tapestry which the women wove 
 and embroidered. The one dwelling with its col- 
 lection of outbuildings placed inside the gaard, as 
 described above, called boer, formed one family 
 estate. 
 
 ' Cf. footnote, pp. 151-2. 
 
 'The quotations are from du Chaillu's Viking Age. 
 ^Laxdaela Saga, c. 29. See du Chaillu's Viking Age for this 
 excerpt. 
 
Intermediate Period 171 
 
 " It was customary, at that time to have large halls 
 at the boer, at which the people sat before long fires in 
 the evening; tables were placed in front of the men, 
 who afterwards slept alongside the walls, away from 
 the fires. During the daytime the women carded 
 and spun wool in the halls."' 
 
 The reception of guests is here described : 
 
 "When King Olaf approached, the farm servants 
 ran ahead to the farm and into the house where 
 Asta, his mother, sat with her women. They told her 
 of the king's journey, and that he would soon be 
 there. Asta rose at once, and bade men and women 
 prepare for him in the best manner. She set four 
 women to take the fittings of the stofa, and quickly 
 arrange the hangings of the benches. Two men 
 spread straw on the floor, two brought in the trapiza 
 [table at entrance of hall] and the skap-ker [a vat 
 from which ale was put in cups] ; two placed the tables, 
 two the food — two she sent away from the house — 
 and two carried in the ale; all the others, men and 
 women, went out into the yard. Messengers went 
 to King Olaf to take him his tignarklaedi [clothes 
 of rank] and his horse, which had on a gilt saddle, and 
 the bit was gilt all over and enamelled. Four men 
 Asta sent in different directions throughout the 
 district, inviting the high-born men to a feast, in order 
 to welcome her son. All who were there were dressed 
 in the best clothes, and to those who had none suit- 
 able, she lent clothes."^ 
 
 ' Gretti's Saga, du Chaillu's Viking Age. 
 
 ' St. Olaf 's Saga, excerpt from du Chaillu's The Viking Age. 
 
172 THe Dramatic Festival < 
 
 The women of humble rank milked the cows, 
 prepared the food and drink, served the men, 
 worked in the fields, made hay, carded wool, and 
 attended to the clothes. But the women of high 
 rank superintended the work of the farm, and 
 queens brewed ale, bleached linen, worked at their 
 looms, and were Amazons, like the Celtic queens, 
 as we have cited them. 
 
 Brynhild "spent her time in a bower with her 
 maidens, and surpassed in handiwork all other women. 
 She made embroidery with gold, and sewed thereon 
 the great deeds of Sigurd, the slaying of the serpent, 
 the taking of the treasure, and Regin's death,'" and 
 we are told that Gudrun'' "made embroidery and 
 worked thereon many great deeds which were cus- 
 tomary at that time . . . and King Sigmund's ships 
 gliding along the shore." 
 
 "The pride of the high-bom girls was very great, 
 and none but brave men could claim the privilege of 
 leading them to their seats "^ in the halls at feasts. 
 
 Sickles, shears, and ploughs were among the 
 utensils for men's work, and their peaceful land 
 occupations were agricultural and pastoral, aside 
 from the crafts connected with the building of 
 houses and ships, and metal-smithing for weapons, 
 ornaments, and tools. Prominent chiefs did not 
 scorn work in the fields. 
 
 • From Volsunga Saga, as given in The Viking Age, du Chaillu. 
 ' Ibid., du Chaillu. 
 3 Ibid., du Chaillu. 
 
Intermediate Period 173 
 
 "Sigurd Syr was a great husbandman; his men were 
 always at work, and he often went himself to look to 
 the fields, meadows, and cattle, and the smithy, or 
 wherever anything was going on." ' And we are told 
 that the young men going to Gudmund Riki's estate 
 "had not to work, though it was their custom when 
 they were at home, high-bom [though] they were, to 
 work."^ 
 
 The viking people travelled from place to place 
 in their trading ships to the great general "fairs" 
 that were held at certain seasons. The burden- 
 bearing ships were distinguished by striped sails 
 and hulls. 
 
 "Thorolf had a large seagoing ship; in every way 
 it was most carefully built and painted all over above 
 the water line; it had a sail with blue and red stripes, 
 and all the rigging was very elaborate. This he made 
 ready, and ordered his men servants to go with it; 
 he had put on board dried fish, tallow, grey fur and 
 other furs which he had from the nets; all this was 
 of much value. He sent it westward to England to 
 buy cloth [woollen] and other goods he needed. They 
 went southward along the coast, and then out to sea ; 
 when they arrived in England, they found a good 
 market, loaded the ship with wheat and honey, wine 
 and cloth, and retiuned in the autumn with fair 
 winds."' 
 
 ' St. Olaf s Saga, c. i, vid. du Chaillu, ibid. 
 
 ' Ljosvetninga Saga, c. 5, vid. du Chaillu, ibid. 
 
 3 From Egil's Saga, vid. du ChaiUu, ibid. 
 
174 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 In all the shadowy cycles, on the borderland 
 between history and myth, it seems better to be- 
 gin with those recording what approximates real 
 history, and to introduce the more vaguely mythi- 
 cal tales only so far as necessary to explain subse- 
 quent doings and beliefs of the pagan warriors and 
 heroes. Such a selection is easier to advise than 
 make, perhaps, but with the beginning of the so- 
 called hero-cycles, the actors in the narratives 
 become nearer flesh and blood realities, and their 
 paths of action more definite. 
 
 I have merely touched upon a point before, 
 which requires more emphasis. In the matter of 
 mythology, importance attaches to the question 
 of its relation to the religious beliefs of the ancients, 
 for it is to be remembered that every one of the 
 cosmogonies and theogonies are gropings after a 
 First Cause behind the manifestations of things. 
 As mankind has bettered his ideal of life, he has 
 spiritualised, in proportion, his idea of its Creator 
 and Sustainer, and as experience and then science 
 have shown him the necessary harmonies of things, 
 he has first felt, then believed that such unity 
 must be from a single First Cause, however 
 infinite and varied its powers, rather than from 
 manj'^ not necessarily unified causes. But the 
 tendencies to believe the strongest power, or 
 powers, good, and that they ultimately conquer or 
 negative the baleful powers; to wish protection 
 from the former, and to flee from the latter; to 
 honour the man who acts according to the best 
 
Intermediate Period 175 
 
 beliefs of his time, and to punish him who acts 
 against them; — these tendencies have always per- 
 sisted, and the fotindations of ethics and religion 
 are not different to this day. As to the changing 
 outward forms and terminology of religious beliefs, 
 they have mainly consisted from age to age, and 
 from people to people, in a readjustment of deific 
 titles, and a differing application of symbology, — 
 though always with the ultimate tendency towards 
 expression of the idea of unification of celestial 
 powers, and greater and more refined abstraction 
 in the use of vSymbol. 
 
 Through aU the ages in which mankind has 
 seemed even monstrous, one tendencj^ has steadily 
 emerged and prevailed, — towards harmony and 
 beauty, and towards faith in the triumph of benefi- 
 cence; and such an understanding as this, of the 
 development of ethical tendency and spiritual 
 aspiration, belongs in the study of the races, even 
 with children. 
 
 The teacher, keeping this in mind, may make it 
 plain to her pupils, in simple language, as occasion 
 requires, throughout all courses of work that deal 
 with the civiHsing of man. Festival work lends 
 a tremendous opportunity for this, through the 
 introduction of themes which, carried in simple 
 form and with simple words, yet convey a high 
 order of ethical and philosophic standards. This 
 does not mean that the illustration of denomina- 
 tional beliefs, or of varjang religions in any biassed 
 comparative sense is the plan to follow; far from 
 
176 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 it. But as the question of the beliefs of mankind 
 arises, it may be guided by the teacher to an un- 
 biassed discussion of the development of ethics 
 and of religious feeling and idea in their aspect as 
 signs of the gradual and universal awakening and 
 aspiration of the peoples, however much each 
 seems to express itself in different words and forms. 
 An effort to bring to the minds of children a 
 realisation that the messages of illumined spirits 
 of whatever race or period, and the efforts of all 
 peoples to find and live up to higher and higher 
 beliefs, are aU worthy of reverence as indispens- 
 able contributions to the world's spiritual aspira- 
 tion and ethical wisdom, — deserves the fullest 
 consideration by parents and educationalists alike. 
 Themes contributory to such a higher develop- 
 ment of culture may be carried through poetic 
 productions and allegory simply and impressively 
 as part of festival work of the school year. Beauti- 
 ful allegories and moralities are given occasionally 
 in schools, which tend in this direction. The tone 
 of the entire teaching and atmosphere of a school 
 is shown through such work. I have in mind at 
 the moment, two wonderfiil allegorical festivals 
 given this year (1911-1912) at the Ethical Cul- 
 ture School in New York. One, a Norse festival 
 for Christmas time, "The Tree of Life," in which 
 the beings of the Norse mythology were made to 
 convey a lesson of the regeneration of the life of 
 the world; and a poetic Morality for Patriots' 
 Day, "The Quest" which had for its theme the 
 
Intermediate Period 177 
 
 finding of Freedom by Youth, not through War, 
 worldly Glory, and restless adventuring, but 
 through labouring with Peace at works of use and 
 beauty; deeply significant, even profound themes, 
 both, yet actually wrought out through the 
 everyday class-work of the school, and through 
 such departments as must contribute naturally 
 to the festival preparation, the departments of 
 the arts and of English mainly, but with accessory 
 help of others, — ^manual training and domestic 
 science, — for costumes and mechanical effects. 
 They represented in all respects the ideal method 
 of festival production by a school, and by kind 
 permission of Dr. William E. Bohn of the school, I 
 give in my final appendix his outline of the plan 
 followed in the preparation of one festival, that 
 of Patriot's Day which I mention, and which is 
 typical. The main point I am making here, 
 however, is that relative to the high order of 
 theme these festivals carried, and their demonstra- 
 tion, therefore, of the possibility of introducing 
 themes of serious and even philosophic import 
 into school work with simplicity enough to be 
 clear to young students. This is further convin- 
 cing from the fact that the themes were, in these 
 instances, worked out and developed into the 
 full festival production, by the children themselves. 
 No school which did not from day to day, from 
 its first year in each child's school life till the 
 last, inculcate the highest order of ideals, could 
 accomplish such work in just this way. Of course 
 
178 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 the Ethical Culture School stands for the working 
 out of as advanced pedagogical theory as we know, 
 and only a few great schools, perhaps, have to- 
 day such independent scope for rich development ; 
 but such splendid object-lessons pave the way for 
 more. ' The teacher taking up the suggestions for 
 this work may readily see, in the present connec- 
 tion, how the study and employment of folk-lore 
 will give her material for allegory and for presen- 
 tation of such themes to the children as shall give 
 them glimpses of the deeper spiritual forces under- 
 lying all the steps of man's progress to civilisation. 
 1 have cited allegory and poetic productions here 
 in connection with the idea of presenting such 
 serious themes, because these forms, with still im- 
 mature young people, carry them more definitely 
 to their minds. Drama in realistic setting entirely, 
 usually needs the maturer mind to appreciate the 
 philosophical themes it may carry. For instance, 
 two modem plays carrying themes of a spiritual 
 order, The Servant in the House, and The Passing 
 
 ' Two festivals I give in my appendices, "The Greatest Gift" 
 and "The Pool of Answers," are in a way, suggestive of forms 
 presenting themes with a philosophic and spiritual import, 
 although they are very small contributions, and simple, to this 
 broad subject. A suggestion of Mr. Percival Chubb in this 
 direction encouraged me to consider preparing some further 
 material towards this need, or at least preparing a special bibli- 
 ography and outlines of material for such a field of work. It is 
 a matter for the Festival Society to take up, but the suggestion 
 is open to all teachers, and the need is apparent, for there can be 
 . no true culture with philosophical reasoning and spiritual vision 
 left out. 
 
Intermediate Period 179 
 
 of the Third Floor Back, exactly illustrate this 
 point ; that is, it is more than likely that the depth 
 of the lessons they convey would be more or less 
 lost on young boys and girls, by comparison with 
 the impression the same themes would make if 
 developed through the medium of morality forms, 
 or poetic allegory. In these latter cases the pre- 
 sentation is actually more direct and less subtle, 
 if in a sense disguised. In the realistic drama, 
 the apparent thing to the immature mind, is 
 the realistic setting, and not having grown to a 
 time of understanding subtleties in human actions, 
 not understanding life enough for that, the young 
 person does not analyse sufficiently to spell out 
 the underlying lesson when it is given without 
 those outer, fanciful signs, which distinguish 
 the morality form. But it is easy to analyse a 
 theme when characters actually bear the names 
 of the abstract qualities which are to develop it. 
 
 Before leaving this possibility in the matter of a 
 high order of festival themes, cast in forms which 
 will be clear and dir.ect, for children, two classes 
 of subject may be suggested. One of these would 
 be the use of the abstract philosophical and ethical 
 themes as above suggested, and set in appropriate 
 forms, the theme chosen as a general one irrespec- 
 tive of direct historical association with time or 
 place. Another method is that employing history 
 or tradition for its vehicle: — that is, the historic 
 episodes in the growth of human philosophical 
 thought, and religious expression, may be used. 
 
i8o THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 where they can be cast simply, as basis for drama- 
 tic forms; also such stories of the great ethical 
 teachers, and spiritual seers, as carry the essential 
 spirit of their messages, may be beautifully em- 
 ployed in this way. But in all such work, the 
 vital point is to try to see and to lead the pupils 
 to see what relation these episodes and these 
 separate messages bear to the working out of one 
 universal ideal of the perpetual uplifting of human 
 conditions. This is the vital thing to look for in 
 all history, and the teacher must look for it, and 
 seek to trace it everywhere, in folk-lore, in arts, 
 in governments, in industries, if she intends giving 
 her pupils substance, not lifeless data. When she 
 looks for this, and leads her pupils also to do so, 
 there will be life in every simplest fact. 
 
 To continue with the outline of material ap- 
 propriate to work upon in this period, relative to 
 study for general festival work, and progressing 
 after our elected "folk-group method": going 
 backwards from the colonisation of America as a 
 starting-point, we come to some discussion of 
 Eastern races affecting Europe by their subsequent 
 migration and colonisation. This would bring in 
 heroic and mythical stories of Greece and Rome, 
 though material beyond the hero cycles of the 
 Iliad and the Odyssey and the .^neid belongs 
 suitably to later school periods than the inter- 
 mediate one. Such of this material as is given 
 for elementary work, needless to say, is best given 
 through the medium of the translations which are 
 
Intermediate Period i8i 
 
 expressly edited for children's reading, elaborated 
 appropriately by the personal information of the 
 teacher with regard to such accessories of the 
 culture of these peoples as has already been re- 
 commended in the case of the ancient northern 
 European peoples. The method recommended 
 for gathering this material applies to all peoples 
 equally. Such editions as are for children's 
 reading are cited in the Bibliography in Part I; 
 most of them are well known. Appropriate 
 sources are also given for teachers' reading in the 
 case of these more remote peoples as well as of 
 those whose culture has been enlarged upon in the 
 present section. 
 
 Further than this, the Charlemagne cycle, 
 the Arthurian cycle, and selected tales from the 
 Mabinogion give together a generous supply for 
 selection, for children to the age of twelve or 
 fourteen. This is typical material; I do not 
 mean to exclude, for literary selection, the romance 
 represented in any of the great epics: — the Nibel- 
 ungen Lied, the Kalevala, the mythic and heroic 
 periods of Russia, the Cid, German heroic tales, 
 Breton legend. They are all wound and inter- 
 woven with Europe's growth, and the mass is 
 so rich it is bewildering; therefore, for the sake 
 of maintaining clearness of general plan in the 
 pupil's mind, continual adherence to a progres- 
 sion such as already indicated is advisable, — 
 in which the choice shall be guided by, first, that 
 subject-matter offering the richest material of 
 
1 82 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 cotirse, but second, according to its logical place 
 in the development of peoples in the order we have 
 elected to study them. 
 
 Thus, in accordance with this, it is advisable, 
 in following the contemporaneous history of Eng- 
 land and the continent farther than the- Middle 
 Ages, and on to the time of this country's recog- 
 nised discovery, to do so only in outline sufficient 
 to intelligibly relate our reversion to the tribal 
 beginnings of European nations with our reasons 
 for it, namely, the explanation of the character 
 and ambitions of the peoples who were our fore- 
 fathers, this country's first colonists. The teacher 
 may keep in her pupils' minds that this is not to 
 exaggerate the importance of our own spot on the 
 earth over every other, but because we have chosen 
 it for the starting point of our study, and made our 
 retrogression from it in the study of peoples, for 
 reasons already advanced as useful in keeping the 
 plan consistent. 
 
 During the epochs of Etu-opean growth lead- 
 ing to the period of the Renaissance, what of 
 romance or of expressions of the arts may still be 
 presented to the child in broad lines is inter- 
 estingly used in connection with the history, 
 after the plan already illustratively sketched as 
 relating to the Irish Celts and the Norsemen. 
 But all this advancing and transitional stage of 
 European history and art development must 
 necessarily be reverted to in advanced classes. 
 Its arts from this time taking a more distinctly 
 
Intermediate Period 183 
 
 intensive trend, approach a stage where their 
 special study must be more complex than is fitly 
 imposed upon children of the supposed age of the 
 intermediate or early "grammar" grades. 
 
 Therefore when we leave the romantic half 
 fairy cycles of Arthur and Charlemagne and the 
 rest, with whatever associated legend and art it 
 is wise to enrich the study of them, again the 
 choice of material should be in accordance with 
 its relation to the episodes of most marked im- 
 portance in their historic effect, and without too 
 much digression into the less marked ones or those 
 in the history of peoples comparatively remote 
 from otu" main line of study. It will probably be 
 found that the study of such marked episodes and 
 such main peoples will be all that is possible in 
 this school period, and ample as source- of material 
 to cover the period between the Middle Ages and 
 the Renaissance. The legend and poetry and 
 accessory information of arts and customs in 
 general, taken in association mth the plainer 
 matter, is important to the fuller understanding of 
 all periods, and so it is far better to treat of fewer 
 historic events, and to cover even a much shorter 
 historic period, than to omit this accessory mate- 
 rial relative to the life and customs of the people, 
 as we have recommended its use and illustrated 
 it in our examples of folk-study given here; for it 
 is a survey of these details thoughtfully and fitly 
 presented by the teacher which pre-eminently 
 gives life to such study, and makes it possible 
 
1 84 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 to understand the underlying causes of the great 
 historic events themselves. It is for the purpose 
 of such real understanding that this folk-study 
 makes a value in itself while at the same time it 
 is supplying the richest possible material for festi- 
 val work. 
 
 For romance material beyond the ancient sagas 
 and epics, what is • in association with history 
 through the Middle Ages fits this elementary 
 course. The historic action of the epochs this 
 period includes is broad and strong, and the 
 romantic records almost lyrical in their thematic 
 development. Their striking elements are such 
 as immediately to enlist the child's fancy as 
 it awakens to a degree of romance and as he 
 passes beyond enjoyment of what is mainly 
 but animated and exuberant. In the Anglo- 
 Saxon period the stories associated with King 
 Mlired seem to cross from the predominant law- 
 lessness of paganism to a humanitarian, milder 
 condition of reason, and receptiveness to new ele- 
 ments of refinement, while as yet no artificial 
 elements enter. Their actors bear with them still 
 that splendid valorous breeziness that belongs to 
 men living free and vigorous lives, — sea-gods and 
 warriors at call, — which characterises the figures 
 of the Norse and Celtic Saga. 
 
 In all the foregoing, there are whole storehouses 
 of material impossible to touch upon. Perhaps 
 I have already made it clear that mj'- object has 
 been to present a method for use of material, and 
 
Intermediate Period 185 
 
 as far as the material itself goes, only to suggest 
 certain fields for it, which of themselves shall 
 almost automatically suggest others. But to the 
 end of suggesting method, it suffices, I think, to 
 choose, as I have done, from two grand racial 
 divisions, as peculiarly appropriate examples, those 
 branches of their stock which represent the most 
 unmixed racial tendencies in richly typical forms 
 of arts and manners, since in the period of school 
 study we are taking up in this section, it must be 
 valuable to consider the prevailing and staying 
 race qualities and impulses which were conspicuous 
 forces in the barbaric stage of European history — 
 for it is these forces which survived as triumphant 
 elements of its later civilisation. Although I 
 have chosen the viking people and the Irish Celts 
 as representative stocks, such as have a siurviving 
 literature and history which maintains, especially 
 clear-cut, the individuality of type, I do not mean 
 to omit some definite references to the other 
 material relative to the diverse tribes of Europe 
 whose influence was also appreciable in the build- 
 ing of its history and the blending of its racial 
 forces. I have given sources in the foregoing 
 Bibliography, but will cite here for teachers' 
 reading some special ones which are useful for 
 this period's work. For instance, the "whole 
 works of King Alfred, ' ' edited by J. A. Giles 
 (2 vols.), is a standard work and should be foimd 
 at any large public library. The earliest Anglo- 
 Saxon poems, Beowulf, the Traveller's Song, and 
 
1 86 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 the Battle of Finnesburg, are to be found published 
 in several editions, also in some editions, together,, 
 and are usually at libraries with any fair collection 
 of reference books. In addition to the Heims- 
 kringla and other Scandinavian remains already 
 cited, the Voluspa is to be noted as typical of those 
 qualities peculiar to Northern poetry, — a gloomy 
 grandeur of imagery, and power of lyrical flight. 
 Of old German poetry, I have not included in 
 my Bibliography the Song of Hildebrand; and, 
 to revert to the traditions of the Celtic divisions, 
 the ballads, and romantic and fairy legends of the 
 Bas-Breton and of Cornwall as well as Wales are 
 not to be neglected. Certain citations in the 
 Bibliography cover much of the Welsh and Cornish 
 tradition, and for that of the Bas-Breton, the 
 Revue Celtique (Ed. : de Jubainville) is an accurate 
 source of bibliographical material. Jeremiah Cur- 
 tin's history of the beginnings of Russia, with the 
 Northern Varangians and their conquest of the 
 earlier eastern tribes there, is an important ele- 
 ment in this survey of the initial formation of 
 European civilisation, as well as are those references 
 to Russian folk-poetry already given in Part I. 
 It will be remembered that the Bibliography in 
 Part I is especially arranged to accord with the 
 plan of study of each people as here laid out. 
 
 Toward the latter part of the intermediate 
 division, the dramatic form employed in class 
 work may take a step nearer the intellectual, 
 and away from the more simply lyrical; that is, 
 
Intermediate Period 187 
 
 it may appropriately come to depend more upon 
 its main context, and its expression in the direct 
 form of speech and simple directness of action, 
 rather than, as heretofore, upon its accessory 
 illustrative byplay, and elaboration of setting in 
 the way of music, dances, interludes, and second- 
 ary incident. 
 
 While truth to customs, character, and locale 
 of a chosen period must be always regarded, the 
 degrees of elaboration of these elements with re- 
 lation to the main structure of a play, belong to 
 a distinct classification, .^schylean simplicity, 
 which, while marching directly to its goal, is j^et 
 accompanied by lyrical elements, is quite a 
 different thing from that most direct modem form 
 which is plain even to grimness. The Renais- 
 sance forms, with their elaboration and exuber- 
 ance, create another class. Each is perfect in its 
 way, and each responds to and satisfies certain 
 developments of assthetic and intellectual needs, — 
 and a survey of these forms and their application 
 is not useless to the teacher even of elementary 
 work. They readily suggest correspondence to 
 the successive stages of children's development 
 in the application of dramatic forms in this recrea- 
 tional exercise. 
 
 While the sublime compositions of the ancient 
 classics are in themselves inappropriate for the 
 use of children, the form of their structural de- 
 velopment is yet most appropriate: — the simpli- 
 city in directness of theme, yet embellished wth 
 
1 88 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 a simple flowing line of grace through choral ac- 
 companiment. The Renaissance modes and mat- 
 ter — romantic in their appeal, full of variety and 
 life, with full share of fun and of lyricism — sug- 
 gest forms most appropriate to the period of 
 romantic awakening in yoimg people. With re- 
 gard to the actual compositions of the Renais- 
 sance and the Middle Ages, it has already been 
 suggested that careful selections from them may 
 be made appropriately and juvenile compositions 
 improvised after their fashion. The modem direct 
 form is the most simply intellectual one of all, and 
 requires a certain further maturity of insight to 
 appreciate it, and its use is to be so applied in 
 school work ; that is, as minds grow to the ability 
 of appreciating the main theme most, the setting 
 may become more plain, and the accent be put 
 upon the substance. Yet not to be misled by these 
 statements, it is to be remembered, that it is by way 
 of the accessory elements in the illustrative use of 
 song, dance, picturesque customs, and so on, that 
 this recreative exercise may be made to bring the 
 knowledge of the character and lives of people in 
 other times and far off countries most vividly to 
 the children's attention, — that therefore they are 
 important, and not to be allowed too soon to make 
 way for a predominant employment of other less 
 ornate modes of illustration. Besides this, in addi- 
 tion to their use as a vehicle for information 
 concerning folk-lore, they give the more compre- 
 
Intermediate Period 189 
 
 hensive personal exercise to the children, and 
 provide the more comprehensive aesthetic gym- 
 nastic needed for their degree of development. 
 Throughout the work, the most important thing 
 to remember is, that the forms of exercises chosen 
 should bear a constant relation to the child's 
 stages of growth, and that this relation should 
 also be regarded in the choice of material. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 IN addition to what is already given as material in 
 the text in the way of outlines of the pantomime 
 and ritual of those exotic races most nearly associated 
 with our historical progression; and with suggestions 
 for the use of historical and romantic subjects appro- 
 priate to the studies of this school interval,— a play is 
 here added typical of the folk-play form suggested in 
 the text as embodying features illustrative of manners 
 and customs, of the arts of the peoples, and introducing 
 examples of famous folk-literature. 
 
 In preparing ffites from saga material, no teacher 
 need be deterred by a fear that costuming and effects 
 must be elaborate. The initiate in the preparation of 
 festivals know how much effect can be obtained with 
 little cost beyond ingenuity and care in selection 
 and arrangement — however beauty may be enhanced 
 sometimes by increased facilities of stage mechanism. 
 But the main thing to remember is that such fStes as 
 include plays, pageants, and so on, are for the recrea- 
 tion of the children, and while it is an assthetic advan- 
 tage to make spectacles as beautiful as possible, 
 expense and care that take away from pleasure, or 
 produce vanities or unwholesome excitement, are to be 
 absolutely eliminated, or the raison d'etre of the whole . 
 matter is gone. 
 
 In the Russian play the epic included must be cut 
 190 
 
Intermediate Period 191 
 
 for use even as part of the play, or it over weighs in the 
 dramatic proportion, but with the necessary cuts 
 indicated, it is here printed in full in order that, for 
 the sake of its interest as a folk-poem, it may be 
 available for use as a separate reading in miscellaneous 
 school programmes, or be used as it is in the play 
 (even if not in full) in the cantata form indicated, 
 with possibly selections from Borodin's opera of 
 Prince Igor^ used incidentally, or the words of the 
 poem adapted in recitative to parts of the music. In 
 this form aside from its use in the play, but in a set- 
 ting of the same costumes as those in the play, and 
 recited by a Rune Singer in typical costume, it might 
 be a very effective separate recital. Ideas for such a 
 scene may be take from Munkacsy's famous painting 
 of a Russian wedding feast. 
 
 Further than this, I believe the text includes suf- 
 ficient suggestion for the use of saga literature for 
 dramatic forms, and the Bibliography in Part I notes 
 other sources for material of this kind. But for 
 ready-made material I want to commend to teachers 
 the most' charming collection of folk-plays for young 
 people I know, — -Constance d'Arcy Mackaye's The 
 Silver Thread, and other Folk-Plays for Young People 
 (Henry Holt & Co.). They are appropriate for either 
 the advanced part of this intermediate period just 
 considered, or for much of the "final preparatory" 
 interval to be considered in the next section. 
 
 ' The score of this opera may be obtained of Schirmer, New 
 York. 
 
MINKA'S WEDDING 
 A Russian Folk-Play 
 
 IN 
 
 TWO ACTS 
 
 With The Word of Igor's Troop rendered into English metres 
 from the translation in Dr. Leo. Wiener's Russian Anthology. 
 
 13 193 
 
Characters: 
 
 Ivan, a well-to-do Russian Peasant. 
 
 Katrina, his Wife. 
 
 MiNKA, their daughter. 
 
 Sergius, a young Tradesman, betrothed to 
 
 Minka. 
 Dmitry, a Cossack in love with Minka. 
 Vladimir, Brother to Minka. 
 Grandmother to Minka. 
 The Village Priest. 
 The Bard. 
 Marya 
 
 . 1 Bridesmaids. 
 
 Anna ) 
 
 Cossacks, companions to Dmitry. 
 
 Companions to Sergius. 
 
 Wedding Guests. 
 
 Scene: Ukrainian Poland. 
 
 Time: Customs, costumes, .and conditions appropri- 
 ate to any period within two or three hundred 
 years prior to the eighteenth century. 
 
 194 
 
NOTE 
 
 No difficulty need be encountered in getting up an effective 
 appearance 'in costumes and setting for this little play if it is 
 remembered that effectiveness can be obtained by very simple 
 and makeshift means, if we get in our minds — and eyes — the 
 general picturesque appearance, the main chararteristics of the 
 scene we wish to present a semblance of. To look out for 
 the colour and the adjustment of the materials we can command, 
 however simple they may be, is the main secret of an effective 
 stage picture. We can have things as elaborate and as accurate 
 as we want and can command, of course, and whatever can be 
 commanded in this direction is a help to the historical side of our 
 presentation, and of course can make the scene richer and more 
 interesting to young actors and to their audience, — but for effect, 
 where elaborations are not possible, no teacher or class need 
 despair. Only let them look up all the pictures they can that 
 might relate to such a setting as they wish to prepare; as has been 
 generally recommended in our introductory paper, hunt up shops 
 and the rooms in museums where utensils and furnishings or 
 fabrics can be seen that might belong to such settings; find out 
 all they can about the costumes, activities, and manners of the 
 people they are going to prfetend to be in their play, and then 
 adjust their stage manners and their properties and costumes 
 accordingly. The twist of a ribbon, the turn of a hat-brim, the 
 recollection of some little mannerism in the right place, will give 
 folk-colour to a piece magically. 
 
 In any library will be found books of coloured plates illustrating 
 costumes and furnishings also of the various countries of the 
 world, in their successive periods. For the rest, encouragement to 
 read up concerning the countries and history and customs of 
 the periods they wish to represent is one of the very things to make 
 this kind of undertaking in schools valuable, a point already 
 emphasised. 
 
 195 
 
196 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 In the special book-list I have appended to this play it will be 
 seen that I have noted portions of the references here and there 
 when it seemed that such would be useful pointers to the teacher. 
 
 It always seems best in the beginning for the teacher to have in 
 mind a good, clear, and interesting outline of any historical or 
 racial facts that will help the pupils to a sense of vitality, romance, 
 and beauty in the incident of their play; to a recognition of the 
 element in aU episodes and periods that makes them akin in 
 the simple principles of life and human feeling. Only this 
 spur on the part of the teacher will inspire the class to interest. 
 They must feel first the teacher's enthusiasm, and find vitality 
 and human interest in the subject because she first is able to 
 open its vistas to them with her own enthusiasm. 
 
MINKA'S WEDDING 
 
 ACT I 
 
 Scene: Interior of well-to-do peasant's dwelling. 
 R. C. U. a window. L. C. U. a door entering from 
 without. Between the door and window, the sem- 
 blance of a tall porcelain stove, such as is characteristic 
 of Russian dwellings. Down Left, a deal table; near 
 it a bench and stool. Down Right, a long sideboard 
 set out with tankards, bowls, cups, and a samovar; in 
 front of this, several chairs. Left of door, a bench. 
 Left Upper Entrance, a door, preferably practicable, 
 gives into interior. There is a similar door opposite 
 on Right, presumably giving into interior of house, 
 also. Chairs are by the stove. To left of door at 
 back, behind the bench L. C. U., is another, but small, 
 window. The place seems in its best order, as if 
 arranged for guests. 
 
 At Rise: Ivan and Katrina are discovered seated 
 by stove; Minka is standing by window, L. C. U., 
 looking pensively out. 
 
 Katrina : Minka, come here, my child. 
 
 Minka: {Turning to come down.) Yes, mother. 
 
 Katrina: You should be happy, girl, the day of 
 
 your wedding. 
 
 Minka : (Hesitating.) I am sad at leaving home. 
 197 
 
198 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 Katrina: Yes, yes, child; but the new home you 
 are going to is a good one ! 
 
 (MiNKA stands silent, with head bent and down- 
 cast eyds.) 
 Ivan: {Looking up scowling.) Come, come! What 
 is all this, Minka? You are not leaving us entirely; 
 you will come and visit us! Your betrothed is an 
 excellent fellow; he pays a good settlement for you; 
 you shall not offend him by such sour looks ! 
 
 Minka : {Looking up a bit startled, but speaking only 
 obediently.) Oh, yes, father, I know! I — I did not 
 mean to — look so unhappy! 
 
 Ivan: {Half-rising, almost angrily.) And I say to 
 you, you shall not feel so unhappy — you — ungrate- 
 ful— 
 
 {Enter Grandmother, looks from one to the other 
 disapprovingly; shakes her head.) 
 Grandmother : Ay, Minka, so ! You are married 
 to-day, and look so sad? {Looks keenly at the girl.) 
 
 Katrina : Ay, mother, it is that for which we are 
 chiding her, now. 
 
 (Grandmother turns and speaks sotto voce to 
 
 parents, and meantime Minka crosses left to 
 
 bench and seats herself there listlessly, fingering 
 
 some work laid there.) 
 
 Grandmother: Ye are acting foolishly. Ye 
 
 should learn something from her looks and be warned ! 
 
 Katrina: {Startled.) What? What is that, 
 
 mother? — What should we learn? 
 
 Ivan : Psh ! you are always putting follies into the 
 child's head! If you were not my mother, I would 
 send you packing ! 
 
 Grandmother: {Laughing quietly.) You were al- 
 ways a dullard, Ivan ! If you had half the wise folly 
 
MinKa's Wedding 199 
 
 of your mother, Minka would have a light heart this 
 day. You are like your grandfather, never seeing the 
 way the land lies till too late; but Minka is like me, 
 which if your father were living now to tell you, is a 
 warning ! Ivan, Ivan, you are a fool ! 
 
 {She shakes her head, and brings her stick down 
 hard on the floor.) 
 
 Ivan: {Angrily.) It is well you are my mother, 
 when you dare talk so to me ! 
 
 Katrina: {Puzzled and anxious.) What do you 
 mean, mother? — what? — 
 
 Grandmother: {Wagging her head.) Ah-ha! You 
 will learn what I mean, when you have not heeded it! 
 
 Ivan : She means nothing, wife, but to torment me, 
 for the reason that I have not her sharp tongue ! 
 
 Grandmother: Ah-ha! and for something more, 
 Ivan, — a less stubborn head on my shoulders ! 
 
 (Ivan grumbles; Katrina looks troubled; Grand- 
 mother hobbles down, stage shaking her head and 
 muttering. Katrina at last rises and follows 
 her.) 
 
 Katrina : But what is it, mother — mother? What 
 shall we do? I do not want to make my poor child 
 unhappy. That would be the farthest from my 
 heart. 
 
 Grandmother: Ah-ha! So one might know! A 
 mother's heart will give way before the pride of a 
 father's head! {Sotto voce.) Daughter, do not have 
 the wedding to-day! Make some excuse. It can 
 be done. You will see, — you will see, if you will but 
 do as I say ; you are a mother, you will find where the 
 trouble is! 
 
 Katrina: {Disturbed.) What, and all the prepa- 
 rations made ! 
 
200 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Grandmother: (Shaking her head.) Ah, you 
 young people! What ye see to-day — that is more 
 important than the daughter's happiness! That is 
 to come in the future! 
 
 Katrina: (Somewhat abashed.) No — no, grand- 
 mother, — but — but — 
 
 Grandmother: Ah, yes, well, I see; it is "but — 
 but." Well, let your people come; have your feast; 
 that is after all better, since ye will not see. But ye 
 will see — and the better then, at your feast — what is 
 the trouble. Maybe, maybe, — since your heart is 
 after all tender, Katrina — you will see then, even at 
 the feast, in time, and persuade my stupid Ivan to 
 delay the wedding, — even at the last moment. 
 
 Katrina: I wish I understood what you really 
 would say, mother! You must tell me! 
 
 Grandmother: Ah, very well, now, — but speak 
 low and do not anger Ivan. It will but make him the 
 more stubborn. He must see for himself; I am his 
 mother, mind you, and know him from the cradle! 
 But you, Katrina, you have still a woman's true sense, 
 though you did love my foolish Ivan ! (Laughs good- 
 humouredly.) Well, now list ye! Have you noticed 
 that young Dmitry, who looks so fine when he comes 
 riding over the plain from the river, and stamps about 
 the village in his high boots? And do you think that 
 your Minka has not noted him likewise? Ah-ha — I 
 have seen it, and the more since, handsome girl that 
 she is, he too, has noticed her! Heed me, now, Kat- 
 rina mother, — for Minka has eyes like mine, that 
 came from the south, where they do not go to sleep 
 when love comes, — as Ivan's eyes sleep ; and yours, 
 Katrina, they are only saved by the mother's heart in 
 you! 
 
Minka's Wedding 201 
 
 Katrina: Oh, mother, mother, how you frighten 
 me! What shall I do? Why did I not know this 
 before? — Now — now, it is too late! 
 
 Grandmother: You were blinded by Ivan, as 
 many a wife is, if she does not think too, for herself! 
 But do as I say now, — there is yet time. Do as I 
 say, or your mother heart will grieve ! Yet say little 
 to Ivan, till it is the right time to use your own wits, 
 too, to wake him up. And you will see well enough 
 for yourself when the time comes, for you have a 
 woman's wits after all, and are not a blockhead like a 
 man! 
 
 Katrina: {Turning away greatly fluttered by the 
 romantic suggestion about the young Cossack and her 
 daughter.) Dear, dear, grandmother, I can hardly 
 think it is you talking! What a wild girl you must 
 have been! 
 
 {Laughs, but nervously.) 
 
 Grandmother: {Chuckling to- herself.) Ah-ha! 
 Yet not so wild but that my parents might have 
 understood me better, as you might now your child ! 
 Wait and see, — but go now, Katrina, and attend to 
 what you must and do not try to talk to Ivan, — till it 
 is time, remember! But keep yourself awake; then at 
 the monient, pull Ivan's sleeve, and tell him you, too, 
 see it is time to heed the grandmother, the foolish old 
 grandmother — ha-ha — and hold back ! — that he must 
 make an excuse to the bridegroom ; — but do you then 
 invent it, yourself, for him, since Ivan is slow of 
 thought, and would never do it, — without making a 
 great botch of it, at least! But above all things, men- 
 tion not Dmitry in your warning, or Ivan will not 
 allow him as one of the guests, — and there would be a 
 great scene, — with no knowing what would come of it 
 
202 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 then! (Katrina turns, looking shocked and question- 
 ing.) Ah, you stupid! — See what I say! Listen well, 
 but go now — ! 
 
 Katrina: {Turning away.) Oh, Granny, Granny, 
 — I hardly know what to think or do ! 
 
 {Goes up to Ivan and puts her hand on his shoul- 
 der. He looks up frowning.) 
 Ivan: What are you doing there, Katrina? Lis- 
 tening to my foolish mother! 
 
 V Katrina: Tut-tut — Ivan! She is still your 
 mother, and she is old, and has seen more than we 
 have! 
 
 Ivan: {Impatiently.) Oh, Katrina, you, too, are 
 a fool ! — No woman can help being ! 
 
 Katrina: {Smiles good-naturedly.) Well, well, 
 Ivan ! Come now, though, there is much to be done ! 
 Bestir your lazy legs from the stove, if you be a man, — ■ 
 and wise or not! 
 
 Ivan: {Rising and taking her chaff in good part.) 
 Yes — yes {stretches himself) ; there is too much to be 
 done, to be wasting time here in foolish talk ! {He makes 
 preparation, picks up cap and tools, etc., for work.) 
 That is certain! 
 
 (Katrina turns to Minka, who all this time has 
 
 been sitting listlessly dabbling at her embroidery, 
 
 which she has finally let lie untouched in her 
 
 lap.) 
 
 Katrina : Minka, my child, — you will come soon, 
 
 for I need you? 
 
 Minka: {Looking up and sighing.) Yes, mother, 
 I will come. {She speaks dutifully but listlessly.) 
 
 (Katrina looks wistfully at her daughter, paus- 
 ing beside her as if longing to speak something 
 of what is on her mind.) 
 
MinKa's Wedding' 203 
 
 Katrina : That is pretty work, Minka. 
 
 Minka: {Taking up work and picking at a stitch 
 or two with her needle, as if trying to appear interested) 
 Yes, oh, yes, mother, it is pretty, is n't it? 
 
 {Meantime Ivan comes down to Grandmother.) 
 
 Ivan : Mother ! You are my mother, although you 
 have made me angry; but still Minka is my child, not 
 yours ! 
 
 Grandmother : Nay, therefore she is twice rhine, 
 Ivan! — Now go to your work! You w^U listen some 
 day! 
 
 Ivan: Hmph! {Exit, muttering, R. upper E.) 
 {Almost simultaneously, but more quickly, Ka- 
 trina makes exit by opposite door, L. upper E.) 
 
 Grandmother: {Crossing to Minka.) You do 
 not love the young merchant, do you? 
 
 Minka: {Looking up astonished.) Oh, Granny! 
 
 Grandmother : I know ! — and you shall not marry 
 him! (Minka remains dumb with surprise.) You 
 love the young Dmitry! (Minka looks down embar- 
 rassed; the Grandmother smiles) — and a Cossack is 
 a very splendid fellow! — Your grandfather was a 
 Cossack; did ye know that? 
 
 Minka: {Looking up interested.) Yes, Granny, — ■ 
 oh, yes. But you, you — were — ? 
 
 Grandmother: {Shaking her head.) Nay, you 
 have heard ; but I was not a gypsy. Your great-great- 
 grandmother was ; yet even so, even so, I had enough 
 in me! — Ah, yes, it is a great blood! It is in me, — 
 and by your eyes, it is in you, also, Minka, — so that 
 you cannot do what your heart accepts not; for the 
 gypsy blood cannot ! And you shall not do so, Minka, 
 my child ! I am your grandmother, and I say so ! I 
 am an old woman, but it is a blood that will not die, 
 
204 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 nor grow old ; it is a proud blood that we have, you and 
 I, and my granddam, and hers before her, — and it will 
 love truly, or not at all! 
 
 Minka: {Looking amazed and excited.) Granny! 
 
 Grandmother: {Continuing.) You shall not 
 marry him you do not love ! 
 
 Minka: {Low and excited.) And — and what did 
 you — did you do, grandmother? Did — did they 
 want you to marry some one else than the — my Cos- 
 sack grandfather? 
 
 Grandmother : {Patting her on the shoulder.) Ay, 
 that they did! Ay! 
 
 Minka: And — what did you do? How — ? 
 
 Grandmother: I — ran away! 
 
 Minka: Oh — oh! 
 
 Grandmother : {Leaning over and laying her hand 
 on her shoulder firmly.) Minka, little one, do nothing 
 wilfully and wildly ! Wait — wait ! Your mother and 
 father love you. Your mother wishes to help you. 
 Your father is my son, and I may say he does not see 
 that he is harming you, and he wishes to do the best 
 — but he is a man, and men do not see always what 
 we women see. Wait — for him, Minka. He may 
 change his mind in time. Do nothing rashly. Dmi- 
 try is an excellent fellow, but he, too, is a man, Minka. 
 Granny knows; you must not be unhappy for life, 
 but wait and see, — wait — do not — 
 
 Minka : But — you ran away, Granny ! 
 
 Grandmother : Yes, yes, — and your Dmitry may 
 turn out as well as my Mikula ! But 't was a risk ! 
 Wait and see — wait and see! 
 
 Minka: {Excited and pressing her hands together.) 
 But — I — would be afraid to run away ! 
 
 Grandmother : {Doubtfully and shaking her head.) 
 
Minha's Wedding' 205 
 
 Ah-ha! But first, I would have you promise me, 
 child! For I know! and when Dmitry came, you 
 might not be so afraid as you think. No, you 
 must say to me that you will wait, little one! And 
 if no one else will tell you when it is time to wait no 
 longer your old Granny will, and she will go herself to 
 the priest in the village and see that he takes your 
 part and brings about forgiveness, so that shall protect 
 you. But wait till then, little Minka; your father 
 may see and save you! {Turns away, and speaks half 
 to herself.) But I — I — know the mistakes of his fore- 
 bears. Ah — I know! 
 
 Minka: But — oh — oh. Granny! Anyway — I 
 know — I should be afraid to — run away ! 
 
 {Looks around, almost scared as she says it.) 
 Grandmother : So much the better indeed ! {Pats 
 Minka's shoulder, and goes off shaking her head.) 
 (Minka sits looking rapt and excited; she gets up 
 and moves around nervously, then suddenly stops 
 as if in distress at recollection of her coming mar- 
 riage and finally flings herself down on bench L. C. 
 with her head on her arms on the table. The door 
 opens softly from without, and Dmitry enters, C. 
 He goes down to Minka and puts his hand on her 
 head, looking down at her questioningly. She 
 looks up, startled; they pause, looking into each 
 other's faces.) 
 Dmitry: What is it, little one? 
 Minka: Oh, how can you ask? — and to-day my 
 wedding ! — I am so frightened ! I cannot escape it ; it 
 is too late! 
 
 Dmitry: {Nonchalantly.) So? It has come to 
 that at last, has it? 
 
 Minka: {Nodding.) Yes — oh — oh! But Granny, 
 
2o6 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 — oh — Dmitry, — Granny was sorry for me; she was 
 going to try to coax father — 
 
 Dmitry : To coax your father? — 
 
 MiNKA : To — not make me marry Sergius ! But — 
 but, you speak so carelessly! Are you not afraid? — 
 
 Dmitry: (Throws back his head and laughs.) Not 
 of things I can manage! (Minka looks at him admir- 
 ingly.) Oh, but your Granny — what did she have to 
 suggest? — She was a gypsy, eh? — was n't she? 
 
 Minka: No, Granny 's not a gypsy, but of their 
 blood, and I too ; she says I am like her, and — she says 
 grandfather — he was a Cossack, and — and — 
 
 Dmitry: {Laughs.) Like me, and so? — How does 
 she know so well that you are unhappy? Did n't her 
 father want her to marry him? 
 
 Minka: No, that was it. But — but — she did! 
 
 Dmitry : Oh ! How did she do it then? 
 
 Minka: {Rising and looking nervously about.) Oh 
 — oh, Dmitry, — they — ran away — ! 
 
 Dmitry: {Laughs and takes her hands.) Oh-ho! 
 and so — they thought of the same thing as I — as we — 
 
 Minka: {Embarrassed.) Oh! — I would have been 
 afraid ! I — I did — not say — we should — 
 
 Dmitry : Oh, yes, — but it would n't have taken 
 long to put the idea in your head, Minka girl, eh? 
 But you 'd be afraid, would you? Yes — alone, maybe. 
 
 Minka: Oh, or — even with — you, I thought, but 
 not now — 
 
 Dmitry: Well, don't be afraid any more! You 
 see, I am finding nothing to worry about ! Let them 
 come on with their wedding; see, Minka — and laugh, 
 now! {Pinches her cheek.) See, listen to me: my 
 horses will be in the yard ; I am to be one of the guests, 
 but / will not lose my wits with vodka ! 
 
MinKa's "Wedding 207 
 
 Minka: And the rest will? 
 
 Dmitry: More than likely. 
 
 Minka: And then we — ? 
 
 Dmitry: Ah, we — that is easy! — 
 
 Minka : Suppose my father does not lose his wits? 
 He seldom does. 
 
 Dmitry: And it grow too late, — near morning? 
 
 Minka: Yes. 
 
 Dmitry: Then, well, we will be on the lookout. 
 He cannot be looking at us all the time. 
 
 Minka: Still, it may not be easy! (With sudden 
 compunction) and — and. Granny warned me to — wait 
 — to see if — 
 
 Dmitry: What? 
 
 Minka: If — if father will not change — in time — 
 
 Dmitry: Well — so I will wait for that, too, — but 
 there will be a limit, little one! {A bit fiercely, but 
 quietly.) If it come to swords, even, remember, you 
 will never marry Sergius ! 
 
 Minka: {Admiringly and thankfully.) Ah! 
 
 {A knock at door L.C. U.) 
 
 Minka: (Alarmed.) Oh, you must not be here 
 now, if any one comes! It will spoil it all! Go in 
 there, — in there, in the passage, and then out through 
 the farther way ; hurry, Dmitry ! (Points left. Dmitry 
 hurries out by that entrance.) Wait, though, to see who 
 it may be ; then go quickly, if need be ! (She opens door 
 and an old man in the dress of a travelling Bard, and 
 carrying a kobsha, ' enters.) 
 
 Minka: Oh, oh, — Dmitry, you may come back! 
 (Then to the stranger.) The Rune-Singer! What a 
 
 ' A kind of lute or stringed instnament. A semblance of it 
 could be concocted, while the piano or other accompanying 
 instrument off the stage supplies the real music. 
 
2o8 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 pleasure! (Dmitry re-enters and comes down. With 
 MiNKA he greets the Bard and they together lead him to 
 the bench L. C. D. He puts down his instrument, seats 
 himself and leans back as if weary, while he bows and 
 murmurs thanks and greeting to them.) 
 
 Minka: Oh, how glad we are that you have 
 stopped here to rest ! Will you sing to us this after- 
 noon? We have a feast — 
 
 {Stops suddenly, looking distressed at the memory 
 of what the feast is for, and glances at Dmitry.) 
 
 Bard: Yes, yes — I see: a bridal feast! (Looking 
 about at decorations, and then glancing at young couple.) 
 Ah-ha! a fine Cossack, and a pretty lass! (Minka 
 looks sad, and glances again at Dmitry. Bard sees it.) 
 I should not think ye would need be sad ! 
 
 Minka : Ah, indeed ! {Shakes head.) 
 
 Bard : But what is the trouble? 
 
 Dmitry: {Sits down confidentially beside Bard^ 
 but speaking cheerfully.) She is afraid she is not going 
 to marry me ! {Laughs mischievously towards Minka.) 
 
 Bard: Ah! {Looking guestioningly from one to the 
 other.) But why is it? Ah — some obstacle? Biit 
 why are you not afraid? {Turning to Dmitry.) 
 
 Dmitry: Because I am not at all afraid I shall not 
 marry her! 
 
 Bard : {Looks puzzled.) This is a strange mixture ! 
 
 Minka: Oh, dear poet, — he is brave, and believes 
 he will carry things through, but you don't under- 
 stand ! He is not the one my parents have chosen for 
 me to marry. It is not to him I am to be married 
 to-day ! 
 
 Bard: Ah! 
 
 Minka: And — dear poet — he thinks he can take 
 me away. But I am afraid — 
 
MinKa's "Wedding 209 
 
 Bard: Ah, I see! Then it is he whom you wish 
 to marry? {Laughs softly and merrily.) Ha-ha! 
 (Dmitry smiles with assurance. The Bard looks at 
 him.) But your great Cossack here, he looks as if he 
 might do what he says! 
 
 MiNKA : {Looks wistfully from one to the other, then 
 seats herself at Bard's feet impulsively, and clasps her 
 hands on his knees.) Oh, oh, do you think so? How 
 — how? But you know all the guests may not be 
 sleepy with vodka, and my father never is, and what 
 will keep them from noticing while we escape? I 
 cannot marry the dreadful Sergius, — at. least I do not 
 love him, and oh — oh, my heart will break ! 
 
 Bard : This is all very sad ! {Looks sympathetically 
 from one to the other.) Let us think a bit. — See now» 
 you have a strong young lover. He can carry out this 
 thing ; you need not fear ! 
 
 MiNKA: Yes, yes, but the guests, who may not 
 have drunk overmuch vodka, and my father, — they 
 will be in their senses — and if we cannot escape, then 
 Dmitry will fight for me, — and oh, it would be better 
 if we could get away without all that! I love my 
 parents and they mean well by me. Oh, I am sure you 
 can help us; maybe now, maybe before the guests 
 come, while my father and my brother are busy! 
 Though you might try to persuade them ; perhaps they 
 would listen to you! That would be better — for I 
 have promised to wait and see — until at least there 
 is no hope — Granny said, — then she would help to 
 straighten things for us. — But still, if you spoke, 
 too, — 
 
 Bard: But what would they think I knew about 
 it? — their business? 
 
 MiNKA: Ah, but you are a Rune-Singer! You 
 14 
 
210 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 know all listen to you! — Then if they would not be 
 persuaded, by you and Granny. — she has talked with 
 them already, oh, she has indeed, — and she will talk 
 with you and tell you how it is; she thinks they are 
 doing wrong, my father and mother, to make me marry 
 this Sergius, when I do not want to, myself — but 
 then — if they — 
 
 Dmitry : Hush, hush, Minka — how fast you talk ; 
 no one can understand what you are at! Besides, 
 why trouble? — when I can carry the whole matter! 
 Let be, child, and the feast shall be for us in the end, 
 and the good Singer here have no trouble but his sing- 
 ing, and a measure as he pleases of good drink ! 
 
 Minka : Ah, how confident you are, Dmitry ! But 
 I can see in my mind that Sergius has a good sword, 
 and Vladimir a heavy stave, and that trouble will brew 
 from what you take so surely! Indeed, I have made 
 up my mind, that — if — there is no persuading, and 
 nothing to be done beforehand, — that I will ask the 
 Rune-Singer to give us his advice, and his help to — 
 to — escape — without — waiting — oh, Dmitry — I am so 
 afraid — if I — cannot get away — that I will have to 
 marry — Sergius — Oh! {Begins to cry.) 
 
 Dmitry: Tut-tut, — foolish girl! You were but 
 a while back — afraid to think, even, of "running 
 away"! Now you would do it, when it is the most 
 foolish time to think of it ! You are crazy, little one ! 
 It is broad daylight. How should we escape meeting 
 the guests on one road or another coming to the very 
 feast they would find you running from ! And what 
 would happen then? Foolish child! {Laughs.) 
 
 Bard: Ay, little one, cease your crying and your 
 fears ; you have all a maid needs — a brave lover ! But 
 a singer must always have a warm heart for two good 
 lovers in a plight ; and I will do aught that falls to me 
 
MinKa's Wedding 211 
 
 to help where it is fair play, and your parents may be 
 brought to see it. 
 
 Minka: And what if they will not be brought to 
 see it?— Oh! 
 
 Dmitry: Hush! — So! Wipe the foolish eyes, 
 Minka. Leave it to me! The guests will be taken 
 up with one thing or another, their dances or their 
 songs — 
 
 Bard: There! {Pauses, thinking a moment.) You 
 have given me an idea! Songs, since you speak of 
 them! — they can be listening to my songs; that is a 
 good idea! 
 
 Minka: {Looks at him delightedly a moment.) Oh, 
 why, yes, yes! That is good of you, indeed! Good 
 father, do — do — sing them a long song, full of excite- 
 ment and battles, so they will at first listen ; but long — 
 so, if possible they will — from the vodka, and the 
 dancing, and all — get stupid, and sleepy, and maybe 
 drop to sleep all about the room ! Oh, that is a great 
 idea, — and we will be thankful to you for ever, — ■ 
 Dmitry and I. Oh, see, Dmitry, — will not this surely 
 help? 
 
 Dmitry : Ay, yes, — 't is a good notion ! Though 
 for myself, a bout at swords would have added zest to 
 the occasion! {Laughs.) Eh, Minka? 
 
 Minka: No, no — you are teasing ! See, Father, he 
 must not talk so! I like your way best! {Rises to 
 get Bard something to drink. Voices heard without as of 
 people approaching. Minka and Dmitry exchange 
 glances.) 
 
 Dmitry : Well, well, Minka, here come some of the 
 people. I must not be here! Farewell! Farewell, 
 Father! Minka, have no fear! Come, come, how 
 shall I go out, to enter properly with the guests? 
 {Looks about.) 
 
212 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 Minka: As I told you before. {Motioning hur- 
 riedly.) Here! — You will meet no one; brother and 
 father are in front. 
 
 {Exii Dmitry L. upper E.) 
 {Enter Katrina R. upper E.) 
 
 Katrina : The guests are coming, Minka, Minka ! 
 You have not come for your head-dress yet! {Sees 
 guest.) Ah, who is this? {Goes to greet him.) Oh, 
 what a good fortune. Father! We did not know we 
 should have songs to-day! {Turns to Minka.) But, 
 Minka, why did you not summon me for our guest? 
 Take the kind visitor now to a room to rest. He must 
 be tired! And then come to me at once. Your 
 father and brother will be bringing in guests presently. 
 (To Bard.) Are you not tired. Father? My daughter 
 will show you to a quiet place to rest you. 
 
 Minka: {To the Bard.) Yes, Father, come with 
 me, do! 
 
 Bard : {Rising and taking his kobsha.) Ah, thank 
 you, Mother! {He and Minka go out R. upper E. 
 Katrina fusses about the room at things, setting dishes 
 about, smoothing cloths, etc. Finally she lifts a dish of 
 some kind, and drops it and it breaks.) 
 
 Katrina: There, there, — how my hand trembles! 
 Minka, Minka, to go away to-day; that was bad 
 enough! But what did Granny mean? I do not half 
 know what she meant by her talk to me! Oh — oh! 
 How dreadful it is to think of one's daughter leaving 
 one, — dear — dear — dear — dear — {Tries to fuss about 
 some more, but uselessly). Oh — oh, I can do nothing 
 more till I recover myself; and I do not know at all 
 what to do about what Granny said — and I am quite 
 upset — {Sits in chair by table.) Dear — dear! {Weeps. 
 Sounds of Guests without are heard; harnesses rattle, etc. 
 Katrina starts and looks around, begins hastily wiping 
 
MinKa's Wedding 213 
 
 her eyes, rises and stands listening. Vladimir and Ivan 
 are heard without greeting Guests, as the curtain falls.) 
 {End of Act I) 
 
 ACT II 
 Scene: Set same as first. Wedding Guests about. 
 Vladimir seated beside Minka on bench left of door, 
 rear, ready to give her away. He holds a sword or 
 staff decorated with red guelder-rose berries. Dmitry 
 stands with a careless smile on his face not far from 
 Minka, behind bench, and up near entrance door. 
 Ivan R. C. U. Bard is seated R. C. D. picking at 
 strings of his instrument as if he had just finished 
 playing something. Katrina, Grandmother, and 
 Marya L. D. Anna among Guests at R. D. Other 
 Guests are ranged to make a well-distributed picture. 
 Vodka passes from hand to hand, and there is a buzz 
 of laughter and talk as curtain rises. 
 
 Katrina : {Stepping forward at rise, and speaking 
 to Bard.) Ah, that was a fine one. Father! Let us 
 have another ! 
 
 Ivan: Ay, indeed! 
 
 A Guest: Yes, another! one of the oldest tales. 
 
 Another Guest: Sing to us of Sadko the Mer- 
 chant ! 
 
 Anna: Or of Ilya, — Ilya of Murom — 
 
 Bard: Ah, though, who would like to hear the 
 finest of all — the Word of Igor's Troop? 
 
 Guests: {In unison and alternately.) Hey-hey! 
 {Several pass vodka and clink cups.) 
 Yes — yes ! The Word of Igor's Troop ! 
 Yes — Yes ! 
 
 (Bard strikes kobsha into soft accompaniment, of 
 occasional chords only, and begins in recitative 
 
214 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 "The Word of Igor's Troop." During 
 the recital Guests drink, listen, laugh softly, 
 flirt, and seem to whisper together occasionally; 
 finally one or another yawns, some look sleepy 
 as the recital stretches on. As the song proceeds, 
 Dmitry from time to time reaches furtively out 
 and snuffs candles near him until the corner 
 where he and Minka are is comparatively dim. 
 As the tale is reaching its close, he lays his hand 
 on Minka's shoulder, and turns her head slightly 
 to see that he has his other hand on the door-latch 
 ready to open it. She creeps up softly, after 
 edging away from her brother, who has closed 
 his eyes sleepily and leans his head on his hand, 
 resting his elbow on the back of the bench. As 
 the Bard reaches his last two verses, and when 
 the company are part of them still zealously join- 
 ing in the choruses and refrains, the rest grown 
 sleepy, Dmitry and Minka choose a moment 
 when no attention is paid them, and slip swiftly 
 out of the door leading to outdoors. The Grand- 
 mother has also worked up from the group she 
 was in and disappeared off, L. upper E.) 
 
 The Word of Igor's Troop' 
 
 IPrefatory Note: This ballad is given in fuU, and with the 
 employment of choruses and refrains to be recited by one and 
 another of the Wedding Guests may be very eflEective, but for use 
 in the play, cutting is necessary, or it makes too long a break in 
 
 ■ The Word of Igor's Troop, here given, is arranged in metrical 
 form and adapted from the translation in Dr. Leo Wiener's. 
 Anthology of Russian Literature by kind permission of the author 
 of that volume and of its publishers, Messrs. G. P. Putnam's 
 Sons, New York. In common with the play, and by courtesy 
 
MinKa's "Wedding 215 
 
 the action. Such cutting is indicated by printing in italic those 
 passages which may best be omitted in the incidental use of the 
 poem in the play. 
 
 To be most effective the poem should tie recited to a musical 
 accompaniment while the Bard strikes chords on his instrument, 
 to produce an effect of the minstrel tale-telling of old time's. 
 
 The metre chosen has been with reference to its adaptability 
 to recitative with musical accompaniment. Variations of accent 
 between the martial and pathetic portions — such as Yaroslavna's 
 lament as compared with Svyatoslav's appeal to the Princes — 
 have been employed for dramatic effect, and this effect will be 
 enhanced if the accompanying music is selected to accord with 
 these variations. Portions of the Kiev Chronicle (also from Dr. 
 Wiener's Anthology) are made use of in the poem, because of 
 their fitness to the dramatic sequence of incidents.] 
 
 (Bard, with Guests — half each — taking choruses 
 
 and refrains.) 
 Bard: So, ye shall hear, my brothers, the song in 
 
 the ancient strain, — 
 The story of Igor's Troop ! In the ancient words of 
 
 the time. 
 Simple, and plainly told, for how should I sing it again 
 In the words of Boyan the Wise,' the cunning and 
 
 wonderful Bard 
 Who, when he wished to sing soared with his thought 
 
 in the tree, — 
 Ran as the grey wolf runs swiftly over the ground ; 
 Flew as the eagle flies under the racing clouds. 
 Boyan the wonderful, wise, — when he recalled the times 
 Of heroes and olden strife, over a flock of swans 
 
 of the publishers of the Anthology, this version is copyrighted. 
 The explanatory notes throughout the "Word" are, in all but one 
 or two instances, fronLthe-Anthology... .._--,- -..,-- 
 
 ' Boyan, a celebrated ancient minstrel. Perhaps half mythical 
 in the same way as Ossian or Homer. 
 
2i6 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Ten falcons swift let loose till in the thrilling chase 
 The mingling wings and cries heat out his hero songs; 
 What were the falcons swift? — The fingers light of the 
 
 Bard! 
 What were the singing swans ? — The living strings of his 
 
 lyre ! 
 How should ye ask of me the fire of Boyan the Wise ? 
 How may my fingers burn these laxer strings to life 
 Until they sing of themselves the glory of princes 
 
 dead ? 
 Even as Boyan the Wise? — Nay, but I still will 
 
 tell 
 In hvunbler strain as I may, the tale of Igor of old, 
 A tale to strengthen the soul and sharpen the heart 
 
 to deeds ! 
 Hearing the courage of him who, urging his spirit on, 
 Led out his valiant men among the; foreign hordes 
 For the youthful pride of his heart, to honour the 
 
 Russian land. 
 Urged by his stormy pride, and his high, hot brow of 
 
 youth, 
 Burning, Prince Igor cried, and spoke to his valiant 
 
 men: 
 "Oh, brothers, mount!" he cried, "and let us spur 
 
 away 
 To behold the beautiful Don, where the Polovtses'' 
 
 horde 
 Greedily crowd its banks. For it must water 
 
 again 
 But the fields of Russian men, and I would break my 
 
 spear 
 Where its stolen waters brim; I would lay down my 
 
 head 
 ' A tribe encroaching on the Don. 
 
MinKa's "Wedding 217 
 
 And drink from my helmet there. Come, my dru- 
 zhina, ' mount!" 
 
 Chorus : Oh, how would Boyan the Wise, the Night- 
 ingale of old. 
 Sing of the spurring knights, and the ardent battle- 
 march? — 
 
 Refrain (minor) : Whence, oh whence is the 
 
 storm, driving the falcons swift 
 Over the stretching fields? Why do the flocks of 
 
 crows 
 Haste to the rolling Don? 
 
 Bard : Beyond the Sula's" stream 
 The pawing horses neigh ; in Kiev glory sounds ; 
 And stream-blessed Novgorod raises the trumpets' 
 
 blare ; 
 What brilliant wings of birds under Putivl's walls, — 
 Or flowers, giant grown, shine in the sunny day? 
 Vsevolod the Grim, Igor his brother awaits ; 
 Under Putivl's walls brightly his standards stir 
 Flung in the wind-bright air! "Glorious brother of 
 
 mine 
 Saddle thine own swift steeds, for mine are ready for 
 
 thee! 
 Igor, my brother, my light ! ' ' Thus the Grim Aurochs ' 
 
 spoke 
 Over Putivl's walls. "Here do my Kurians stand. 
 Warriors tried and strong, nurtured by trumpets' 
 
 cries, 
 
 ' Drazhina, name for the princes' bodyguard. 
 
 ' A tributary of the Dnieper. 
 
 3 Vsevolod, Grim Aurochs, i.e., "Rushing Bull" (Curtin). 
 
2i8 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Fed at the point of the spear! Clear are the roads to 
 
 them; 
 Bright are the dark ravines! taut are their bowstrings 
 
 now, 
 Their quivers open and free, and every sword to 
 
 a man 
 Whetted for what may be! Like grey wolves over 
 
 the fields 
 Stealthy and fleet they race, seeking the warrior's 
 
 hour 
 With glory and death to face! " 
 
 Chorus: Oh, how would Boyan the Fair sing of 
 
 the trumpet's blast. 
 Sing of the banners bright against Putivl's wall? 
 Sing of the frothing steeds, and the panting warriors' 
 
 cries? — 
 
 Bard: Igor has mounted his steed, in the golden 
 
 stirrup stepped 
 To hurtle over the field; but even as he rose 
 The sun now barred his way with darkness in 
 
 the sky 
 Dim as a moon to see ! Yellow the murk around 
 A heavenly omen fell. But on the burning heart 
 Weak as a dream it fell! " On, on, my men," he cried, 
 "Let no more pagans drink the sweet floods of the 
 
 Don!" 
 
 Refrain (minor) : Why so eager and swift fly the 
 falcons over the. fields , . - - 
 
 In the unstirring air? Why do the hurrying crows 
 Shadow the way to the Don? 
 
MinKa's "Wedding 219 
 
 Bard: Night with the cries of birds 
 
 Groans till the sleepers awake. 
 
 Chorus : Igor, wilt thou awake? 
 
 Bard: Beasts from the thickets howl, and Div 
 
 from the tops of the trees 
 Tidings of unknown woes back to the seacoasts 
 
 shrieks ; 
 Sula's and Volga's banks, Suroszh and Tmutorokan 
 Hear the wailing of Div! 
 
 Chorus: Igor, wilt thou awake? 
 
 Bard : Over untrodden paths creaked the ■ Po- 
 
 lovtses' carts 
 At midnight like swans let loose, seeking the River 
 
 Don. 
 Igor, thou heedest not? Thou and thy brothers 
 
 bright, 
 With Russia's crimson shields the border fields have 
 
 barred ; 
 Thy warriors, Russia's sons, by the sweet waters rest ; 
 Out of their helmets drink ; prowl by the reeds of the 
 
 Don. 
 
 Out of the mountain clefts the wolves bristle up and 
 howl. 
 
 Where the crows' shadow fell, Igor, thou saw it not ; 
 
 But now their cawing is heard. Down from the dis- 
 tant crags 
 
 The eagles screech and call; where Russia's crimson 
 shields 
 
 The river borders bar, the foxes yelp and bark ! 
 
220 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 Refrain {minor): Shall Russia's pride arise and 
 glory for her sons 
 Out of a murky night? Out of a darkling dawn, 
 And mists above the fields? The nightingale is still. 
 Hearest thou, Prince, not yet, the cawing of the crows? 
 
 Chorus : How would Boyan the Bright sing of the 
 
 crimson shields 
 Barring the fields of the Don where honour and glory 
 
 should rise ? 
 How of the eagle's screech calling the furtive beasts 
 Forth to a charnel fare ? How of the silent birds 
 And the evil croaking of Div? Oh, Land of Russia's 
 
 sons 
 You are lost beyond recall I 
 
 Bard : Hearest thou Igor laugh? 
 
 Why was the crying of Div? and why do the foxes 
 
 bark 
 Where glimmered the crimson shields? See now where 
 
 Russia's sons 
 Walk on the Polovts cloaks and jingle their golden 
 
 spoil ! 
 See where for Igor flaunt the red panache and flag, 
 The pennon and silver sign! Like arrows over the 
 
 field 
 The sons of Russia spread, crushing the pagan host. 
 Like a grey wolf has run, with Konchak in his track, 
 Gza of the Polovts band, over the flowing Don, 
 Fleeing from Oleg's' brood and Svyatoslav's brave 
 
 son! 
 
 ' Oleg, ancestor of Igor. Konchak and Gza, Polovts chief- 
 tains. 
 
MinKa's Wedding 221 
 
 Refrain {minor) : Why dost thou howl, O Div, 
 over the Russian land? 
 
 Bard: See where the bloody dawn calls up the 
 
 sluggish day! 
 See where the inky clouds are blowing in from the sea 
 And shrouding Russia's suns, her four bright princely 
 
 suns ! ' 
 See the blue lightning's dart quivering in the murk ! 
 Thunder shall strike the ground, and arrows like rain 
 
 shall fall 
 Into the foam of the Don. Swords shall be blunted 
 
 there. 
 Spears shall be snapt in twain, where the Kayala runs 
 Into the River Don. Hark to the wail of Div, 
 Children of Oleg's band ! Lost beyond recall 
 Art thou, O Russian land ! 
 
 Refrain {minor) : Lost beyond recall 
 
 Art thou, Russian land! 
 
 Bard: Even now Stribog's^ brood, 
 
 Turning against thee, comes, — blowing darts from the 
 
 sea! 
 Turbid the rivers flow within their groaning banks ; 
 Choking, the yellowed fields lie in the whirling dust ; 
 Sweeping, the banners hiss, and seem to whisper in 
 
 fear! 
 Oh, for Boyan's words to tell of the stormy fields 
 Where the devil's children^ swarm! Oh, for his lyre's 
 
 strings 
 
 ■ The Four Suns: Igor, his brother Vsevolod, his son Vladi- 
 mir, and nephew Svyatoslav Olgovich. 
 ' Stribog, God of Winds. 
 3 The Pplovtses are here called the devil's children. 
 
2 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 sound for the crimson shields! Alas for the ancient 
 
 days 
 henfettds were sown and grew, and Dazhbog's children^ 
 
 failed ; 
 the days of the son of Woe/ when the years of men were 
 
 short 
 'd rarely behind the plough walked sons of Russia's 
 
 land, 
 t ravens croaked in the fields, and fattened at banquets 
 
 there, 
 t to the thunder of swords, the hurtle of darting spears 
 zr the Polovts plain, was never the like before! 
 ider the hoofs was sown the blackened earth with bones, 
 itered with Russian blood, and a harvest of woe went up 
 om Russia's smitten land! 
 
 3horus: Oh, what noise is that? 
 
 'tat din before the dawn? Doth Igor lead again 
 s brave druzhina forth ? Had not Kayala swift 
 fill of bloody wine? 
 
 R.EFRAIN : The grass from sorrow wilts; 
 
 e anguished trees bend down their branches to the 
 ground! 
 
 Bard : Three bloody dawns went round, ere Igor's 
 
 standards fell, 
 2 fell the hapless hour, by swift Kayak's stream, 
 len Mischief from afar walking in distant lands 
 ;o the blue sea flew splashing her swanny plumes ; 
 [ashing along the Don, walked among Dazhbog's 
 
 hosts ! 
 
 Children of the Sun, i.e., the Russians. 
 Oleg, son of Gore, i.e., Woe. 
 
MinKa's "Wedding 223 
 
 Refrain (minor): Oh, far has the falcon flown, 
 
 driving the birds by the sea. 
 But who are these silent here, sleeping to rise no more? 
 What is this silent horde that follows not from the 
 
 field 
 That crimson bucklers barred where the hungry 
 
 foxes barked? 
 What is this wild complaint from Svyatoslav's brave 
 
 son? 
 What is this women's moan, out of the Russian land? 
 
 Bard: Oh, might my harp wail now, as Boyan's 
 
 strings of old. 
 With Igor's loud lament, recalling his old sins; 
 The evils he had wrought, even in Christian lands! 
 Father from son he 'd torn, till living envied the dead'; 
 Not old nor young were spared: "All this have I done!" 
 
 he cried, 
 "Till the vengeance of God descends! Where is my 
 
 brother's son? 
 Where Yaroslavna's' child? Brother is lost from 
 
 brother 
 By red Kayala's stream! Even Vsevolod, 
 Fighting in mighty stress until his weapons failed, 
 
 ' This Lament of Igor is not in the poem, but is taken from the 
 Chronicle of Kiev, — as given in Wiener's Anthology. In this in- 
 stance as in others I have taken the Kberty accorded in versifi- 
 cation and dramatisation, of such elaboration, or re-arrangement 
 of incident, as shall better bring out the dramatic progressions 
 of the narrative, or make its beauty of description and figure 
 clearer to the young readers for whom it is now intended, just as 
 one instinctively emphasises and enlarges upon such passages in 
 relating stories to young people, for the better awakening of 
 their imagination. — Author's Note. 
 
 " Yaroslavna, Igor's wife. 
 
The Dramatic Festival 
 
 the rim of the lake I saw trampling the grass about 
 1 1 turned my face away that I might not see Mm fall! 
 \ere are my wise Boyars^? My soldiers and eager 
 
 steeds ? 
 the pagans' hands the Lord hath delivered me 
 tered and bowed in the dust! Now is Igor repaid; 
 ? sins have fallen upon him!" 
 
 R.EFRAIN : Kiev has groaned in her sorrow 
 
 d Chernigov for her misfortune ! Out of the gloom 
 
 of Russia 
 w blows the wail of the women: " Now shall we see 
 
 our dear ones 
 ver again by our hearthstones; now shall our 
 
 thoughts not reach them 
 r shall we with tinkling silver and gold be adorned 
 
 to please them!" 
 
 Bard: Konschak has called to Gza, and over the 
 
 fields of Russia 
 ,s hurled the terrible fire out of a horn all flaming 
 wn on the sons of Russia! The voice of Igor is 
 
 weeping: 
 'thers to-day are receiving the crown of innocent 
 
 martyrs; 
 iy may not I, the guilty, suffer for these, unsinning ? 
 t do thou not reject me, but as thy will prevaileth, 
 God, may also thy mercy to us, thy servants! 
 ject me not to the end, Lord, my God, beseeching! " 
 t surely Vsevolod and Igor had wakened dishonour, 
 zrging their wealth in Kayala and with the gold of 
 
 Russia 
 
 Boyars — Boyarin — i.e., landholders, men of rank and con- 
 uence. 
 
MinKa's Wedding 225 
 
 Filling the Polovts river; even as Svyatoslav 
 
 Had bordered its banks with terror, levelled its hills and 
 chasms 
 
 And dried its lakes and rivers, snatching away from his 
 army 
 
 Kobyak, their pagan chieftain, even away from his 
 army 
 
 Steel clad by the blue sea's borders. The glory of Svya- 
 toslav 
 
 All sing, but against Prince Igor are wroth for the Rus- 
 sian sons 
 
 Brought low by the pagan Polovtses. For there by the 
 blood-dyed waters 
 
 The illustrious Igor, unseated from out his golden 
 saddle, 
 
 Mocking, the Polovts vassals on a slave's saddle set 
 him. 
 
 By so much as he was lofty, great was the fall of Igor ! 
 
 THE DREAM OF PRINCE SVYATOSLAV 
 
 The city walls were silent where merriment now had 
 perished! 
 
 Great Svyatoslav lay brooding, and into his dream 
 stalked evil. 
 
 Thus he has told his Boyars: " In Kiev I dreamed, on the 
 mountain, 
 
 In a black shroud you enwrapped me, a bed of yew 
 beneath me; 
 
 Blue wine was poured for my drinking, but with drops 
 of gall in its mixture ; 
 
 Gems were showered upon me, but out of empty quivers 
 
 So that their comfort failed me. Boards without a cross- 
 beam 
 
 IS 
 
226 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 The hall of gold now showeth, and all night long their 
 
 cawing 
 The devilish crows have ceased not I" ' 
 
 To Svyatoslav the Boyars: 
 "How is thy spirit fettered, Prince, with its burden of 
 
 sorrow! 
 Here is thy vision's meaning: From the golden throne of 
 
 their fathers 
 Two falcons' flew to the southward, eager to drink Don's 
 
 waters, 
 And splash it on Russian meadows. Clipped are the 
 
 wings of the falcons; 
 They are grimly enmeshed in fetters! On the third day 
 
 fell darkness; 
 Two suns" wefe dimmed, and shrouded were two young 
 
 moons' in shadows 
 By the Kayala's waters. Over the Russian meadows 
 Prowled like a litter of lynxes, keen-eyed and fierce, the 
 
 pagans. 
 — Now by the blue sea's borders, tinkling with Russian 
 
 jewels 
 Sing the fair Gothic maidens exploits of Polovts princes!" 
 
 Then the great Svyatoslav, with golden-tongued words, 
 
 and weeping. 
 Lifted his voice bewailing: "Alas," he cried, "my 
 
 nephews. 
 Too early sought ye honour! Too early began your 
 
 onslaught 
 
 ' A series of evil omens. 
 
 ' "Two falcons" and "two suns," the two elder princes; the 
 "two young moons," the younger. It will be seen that this 
 dream is a figurative narrative of the expedition of Igor. 
 
MinKa's Wedding' 227 
 
 Upon the land of the pagans t Ingloriously were ye 
 
 vanquished 
 As so ye rashly assaulted, spilling the blood of the pagans ! 
 Where now is my mighty brother? Where his noble 
 
 druzhina ? 
 See how my silvery hair recounts my burden of sorrow. 
 Why vaunted ye so vainly, to cry: ' We will gain the glory 
 And share the fame of our fathers!' For ye in that 
 
 moment were fallen ! 
 Yet, alas, should an old man's years chill the heart of his 
 
 valiance ? 
 When the falcon is moulting, he drives the birds from his 
 
 nestlings; 
 But now my years turn to nothing ! The princes will not 
 
 aid me 
 Though under the Polovts swords the sons of Russia lie 
 
 groaning!" 
 
 Yet cried he, his voice uplifting, lest he be faint of spirit: 
 "Thou, Prince Vsevolod, Aurochs, — haste from afar to 
 
 deliver 
 Thy father's throne from its trouble; for Volga's swelling 
 
 waters 
 Thy spreading oars could cover, and lordly Don's deep 
 
 channel 
 Couldst drain up with thine helmets; even as do the 
 
 pagans, 
 The gnawing Greek fire thou knowest to hurl from the 
 
 spouting horn's mouth! 
 
 "Rurik and David, ye, did not your golden helmets 
 Swim in the battle's blood, while like the wounded 
 aurochs 
 
228 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Bellowed your brave druzhina, in a strange field fast 
 
 falling ? 
 Into your stirrups of gold set now your feet, Princes! 
 Haste to avenge your land; haste to avenge the flowing 
 Of blood from the wounds of Igor, — my son, the valiant 
 
 Igor!" 
 
 Thus Prince Svyatoslav, as told in the ancient story, 
 Summoned his princes all, forth to avenge Prince Igor, 
 Defiled by the wounds of the pagans. So called he then 
 Yaroslav: 
 
 "High on thy throne of gold, with thy druzhina 
 Propping the beetling hills far in Carpathia; 
 Closing the Danube's gates; higher than clouds mayfly 
 Hurling thy missiles up! Thy thunders o'er the land 
 Pass, and the keys of Kiev thou holdest in thine hand! 
 Sultans within their walls fall, slain by distant bolts 
 From thy paternal throne! Slay, then, O Yaroslav^ 
 Konchak, the pagan chief! Vengeance for Russia's 
 
 land! 
 Vengeance for Igor's wounds, brave son of Svyatoslav! 
 
 "Thou, strong Mystislavich, Prince of Volhynia, 
 Who lilie a lion rushed down on the pagan horde! 
 Like a fierce lynx thou raged, and in your onslaught 
 
 swooped 
 As the swift falcon down ! For you the earth has quaked 
 In many a pagan land! But now, hearken. Prince! 
 Brave Igor's sun is dimmed; and the paternal throne 
 Quakes now a naked tree ! Where run Sula and Ros 
 All the fair towns are sacked, and where the crimson 
 
 shields 
 
 ' Yaroslav, father of Igor's wife. 
 
MinKa's Wedding 229 
 
 Bordered the river's fields, there Russia's sleeping sons 
 Lie, and shall rise no more!" 
 
 Chorus: Woe for the ancient days, woe for the 
 ancient sins I 
 Now are the standards divided, and discord is sown 
 among brothers! 
 
 Bard: Princes, to victory! Hear, the Don calls to 
 ye! 
 What avail golden helms, Polish war clubs and shields, — 
 Idle, inglorious? Whence now this wingtd brood? — 
 See Oleg's mighty sons, Ingvar and Vsevolod, 
 Three sons of Mystislav, haste to the pagans' land! 
 Standards united be; discord no more be sown! 
 Bar now the pagans' way! Venge ye the Russian land! 
 Spill now the pagans' blood, for blood of Igor spilled. 
 Son of Svyatoslav ! ' 
 
 yaroslavna's lament 
 
 Hark! from a lonely spot like the note of the cuckoo 
 
 ariseth 
 The voice of Yaroslavna, plaintively in the morning. 
 
 "Oh, let me fly like the cuckoo, along the Danube," 
 
 she waileth, 
 " To wet my sleeve in Kayala and wipe off the wounds 
 
 of Igor!" 
 At Putivl town in the morning, on the broad wall 
 
 Yaroslavna 
 
 ' In the poem here follows an apostrophe to the ancient princes, 
 long, and too much of a digression from the active movement for 
 dramatic purposes, even separate from the play. 
 
230 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 Weeps, saying: "Wind, thou mighty! Why blowest 
 
 thou so fiercely? 
 Under the hissing arrows the Khan gives to thee 
 
 winged, 
 Pall the warriors of my beloved one! Doth it not 
 
 then suffice thee 
 On high to blow as thou listeth, rocking the ships of 
 
 the sea? 
 Over the grass of the steppe my joy in flight thou 
 
 drivest!" 
 
 At Putivl town in the morning, on the wall weeps 
 
 Yaroslavna, 
 Saying: "Oh, famous Dnieper, you have pierced the 
 
 rocky mountains 
 Across the Polovtses' country! The boats of Svyatos- 
 
 lav 
 Thou hast rocked on thy waves to safety. Safely 
 
 also, I pray thee, 
 Bring back my master, my sweetheart, that I may 
 
 not in the morning 
 Send my tears on thy waters, out to sea vainly to call 
 
 him!" 
 
 At Putivl town Yaroslavna weeps on the wall in the 
 
 morning: — 
 "Bright, three times bright sun, thou, joy to all that 
 
 bringest, 
 Why hast thou thrust thy beams on the warriors of 
 
 my beloved one 
 To dry in the waterless plain the young bows, supple 
 
 bending, — 
 And sealed the qtoivers with sorrow?" 
 
MinKa's "Wedding 231 
 
 Refrain {softly) : Hark ! from a lonely spot like 
 the note of the cuckoo, flew upward, 
 Plaintively in the morning, the wail of Yaroslavna ! 
 
 THE FLIGHT OF IGOR 
 
 Chorus: How might the strings of Boyan throb 
 for the captive Igor? 
 — As a sad winci complaining, and murmuring of 
 trouble. — 
 
 Bard : As the hot heart of Igor, held in the tents of 
 
 the Polovts, 
 The sea is restless at midnight, washing the shores of 
 
 the pagans ; 
 Mists are borne in the darkness, and through their 
 
 illusive glimmer 
 God sends to the vision of Igor the path to his father's 
 
 country. 
 The evening twilight has faded; Igor has slept, but 
 
 awakens; 
 From the Don to the river Donetz, his thought has 
 
 measured the pathway. 
 Ovlur, his faithftil companion, over the river has 
 
 called him; 
 Or did the wind then whistle? — Who of the Polovts 
 
 shall tell it? 
 Over the river at midnight where Ovlur holds the 
 ^ bridle ; 
 Was it a bird that whistled? — Who of the Polovts 
 
 shall know it? 
 
 Now to the ears of Igor the solid earth resounded ; 
 Like spears the grass blades rustled, whispering to 
 betray him; 
 
2 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 e Polovts tents have trembled. But Igor like an 
 
 ermine 
 ced in the reeds of the river ; like a white duck m the 
 
 water, 
 d leaped to the waiting saddle. On to the River 
 
 Donetz 
 rough the white mist they hasten, Igor and faithful 
 
 Ovlur, 
 der the white mist's curtain. Light as wolves they 
 
 dismounted 
 len the strong steeds were wearied ; raced as a wolf 
 
 and falcon 
 iftly on to the northward, shaking the dew of morn- 
 ing 
 ;ght from their flying pathway. 
 
 w have the Donetz waters shone in the runners' faces; 
 w speaks the voice of the river, sounding between its 
 
 borders: 
 reat is thine honour, Prince Igor! Great is the grief 
 
 of Konchakl 
 •at is the joy of Russia!" Joyful, Prince Igor 
 
 answers, 
 •,e a harp his voice and exultant, "Donetz, great is 
 
 your honour! 
 5 Prince in thy waves thou hast cradled, and on thy 
 
 silver borders 
 'ead out the green grass for him! With warm mists 
 
 hast thou cloaked him, 
 der the green trees' shadows! As a duck on the water 
 
 thou buoyed him, 
 a gull on the waves thou lulled him; as a mallard 
 
 above thy flowing! 
 
MinKa's Wedding 233 
 
 Alas, not so did the rivers that spread their flood in the 
 
 marshes 
 And hid in their waters the princes on the dark banks of 
 
 the Southland! 
 Those that I wailed in the battle; those that their mothers 
 
 are weeping; 
 The flowers drooped in their sorrow, at the dark waters 
 
 closing; 
 The trees bent down their branches, to sweep the ground 
 
 in anguish, 
 For Russia's sons and princes! Now me of all thou 
 
 savest 
 And bear est back on thy waters to stand by the throne of 
 
 my fathers! 
 So gladly do I exalt thee!" 
 
 THE PURSUIT OF GZA AND KONCHAK 
 
 Chorus: What sounds disturb the air? What 
 shakes the low-hung boughs 
 Over the river's bank? Do magpies flutter there? 
 
 Bard: Nay! But the pagan chiefs, Konchak and 
 
 Gza that ride 
 Swiftly on Igor's track, stirring the leafy ways, 
 Spurring to reach the plain! Now see the friends of the 
 
 Prince, — 
 The trees and the birds of the air! Never a raven hath 
 
 croaked; 
 Closed are the jackdaws' beaks; the chattering magpies 
 
 still, 
 As tho' no passing steeds had waked their still retreat; 
 So the pursuers shall learn naught of Prince Igor's way! 
 But listen now how the chieftains in sinister converse 
 
 whisper: 
 
234 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 "Since the falcon is flying, let us enmesh the fledgling; 
 Shoot him mith golden arrows!" — thus said Cza, but 
 
 Konchak: 
 " With a fair Gothic maiden, lure him back to our 
 
 meadows!" 
 And Gza to this, in answer: " Trust not to youthful fancy! 
 They flee, and lost is the maid as the fledgling falcon! — 
 Then in the Polovts plain the elder birds will attack us, 
 That even now rouse and come with beetling spears from 
 
 the Northland!" 
 
 Swiftly Prince Igor has fled with faithftil Ovlur beside 
 him. 
 
 Night and day have they sped; the wild geese fell for 
 their eating, 
 
 Shot with their glancing arrows; nightingales warned 
 of dawn, 
 
 And woodpeckers with their pecking, showed them the 
 way to the river. 
 
 Vain the pursuit of Igor, since sun and darkness be- 
 friend him! 
 
 Chorus: Like a body without its head, — sang 
 even so Boyan, — 
 Without its valiant Igor, was left the country of Russia ! 
 
 Bard : Now high in the heaven the sun shines, and 
 
 from the shores of the Danube 
 Over the sea to Kiev, float voices of singing maidens ; 
 Igor has come to Russia! Rides he but now to haven 
 Across the Borichev rides, to where in the church's 
 
 altar , ;^ 
 
 Is smiling the Holy Virgin to say God did not reject 
 
 him! 
 
MinKa's Wedding 235 
 
 Chorus: Now is the country happy; the towns 
 send up their voices, 
 Singing songs to the princes, the elder and then the 
 younger! 
 
 Refrain: Now are Yaroslavna's tears turned to 
 rejoicing; 
 All her prayers are answered ; back across the steppes 
 Sun and wind and water bring her her beloved ! 
 
 Bard : Svyatoslav's vision of evil now is vanished 
 
 in sunlight. 
 Beside the golden throne like a young tree flourishes 
 
 newly 
 The tree of ancient days! Protecting the olden 
 
 honour, — 
 Triumphantly back from the Southland, the princes' 
 
 banners circle ! 
 
 Come then, let us raise our voices for Igor, and for the 
 
 princes, 
 The illustrious names for ever! Hail, princes and 
 
 druzhina 
 Who battle for the Christians against the host of 
 
 pagans ! 
 Glory for ever be to ye, glory and honour ! Amen. 
 
 All : Glory and honour be to ye for ever and ever ! 
 Amen. 
 
 (_As the Bard ends at last, sounds of horses are 
 heard without, announcing the approach of 
 Sergius.) 
 
236 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Ivan : Here comes the bridegroom ! ( Turns to part 
 of room where his daughter was, and towards his wife.) 
 Katrina ! Minka ! 
 
 Vladimir: (Rising a bit sleepily.) Minka! Minka! 
 {Looks about.) Why, she was close beside me! 
 Minka ! {There is a knock at the door. Ivan opens it. 
 
 Guests bow and stand aside. Sergius enters with 
 his friends behind him. He bows.) 
 
 Ivan : Ay, ay ! So it is. The bridegroom, — he is 
 here! 
 
 Sergius : Ah, father Ivan and Httle mother, yes I 
 am here at last! I was delayed; I waited for the 
 stupid priest. 
 
 Katrina: Oh, tut-tut! 
 
 Sergius : Yes, but he is all of a sudden marrying 
 some other couple from somewhere, who will be off to 
 the groom's house presently. I rode slowly, but he 
 will come or we will go back for him. 
 
 Katrina : Oh, no, no, that would n't be fitting ; 
 he will come. Meantime it is cold out; have some 
 brandy! {She pours and offers tumblers to the Guests. 
 They bow to Ivan, signalling that he bid his wife drink 
 first. ^) {Katrina turns to where Minka was.) Minka 
 waits here beside her brother. {All turn to look in the 
 same direction.) 
 
 Vladimir: {Who is wandering about.) Minka has 
 left the room, mother. You will have to fetch her. 
 I did not notice when she went. 
 
 Katrina : {Looking startled.) Why Vladimir, how 
 odd! 
 
 Vladimir : {Surprised at his mother's look of sud- 
 den alarm.) Nothing startling, mother, I should say! 
 
 ' A folk custom in receiving guests. 
 
MinKa's Wedding' 237 
 
 Katrina: {Shakes her head anxiously.) Tut-tut- 
 tut. {Looks around.) Where is grandmother? 
 
 Vladimir: (Also looking about.) Why, if she is 
 gone, then Minka is with her somewhere. 
 
 Katrina: (Unable to conceal her anxiety.) Was- 
 n't that young Captain Dmitry here, Vladimir? I am 
 sure I greeted him. Was n't he? He is very hand- 
 some ; I could hardly overlook him ! 
 
 Vladimir: (Looking at her inquiringly.) What 's 
 the matter, mother? Yes, — I think I saw Dmitry 
 here. Why? He has^ probably slipped out some- 
 where. Do you think he has eaten Minka and grand- 
 mother? (Laughs.) 
 
 Katrina: (Looking frightened now.) Hush, Vladi- 
 mir, don't joke so ! 
 
 Vladimir: (Looking at her still more question- 
 ingly.) You are very funny, mother! — Nervous, 
 I suppose. But the priest has n't come yet. 
 Minka and grandmother will be in presently. (He 
 seats himself L. C. D. unconcernedly; pours brandy 
 and drinks.) 
 
 Sergius: (Looking about.) Well, father Ivan, 
 there is Vladimir unconcernedly sitting drinking 
 vodka, and paying no attention to bringing his sister 
 here for me to buy from him. " Vladimir, how many 
 thalers shall I give you for your sister? 
 
 Vladimir: Ah, she is worth many thalers to keep, 
 but kopecks to sell, and a good bargain! (Laughs.) 
 Take your choice; I will be easy with you, to think 
 what she will cost you! 
 
 Katrina: Oh, hush, hush, Vladimir! Are n't you 
 
 ' A folk custom at weddings is for the brother supposedly to 
 sell the sister to the bridegroom. 
 
238 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 ashamed to jest so! Think how we shall miss your 
 good sister around the house! 
 
 Vladimir : Well, since it is jesting, mother, don't 
 fidget about it ! 
 
 Marya : Yes, Minka is a sweet girl ! But brothers 
 must be always teasing! Where is she, Vladimir? 
 
 Vladimir: {Looking around.) I don't know. 
 When we hear the priest, we can fetch her, one of us. 
 
 Marya : Yes, you lazy-bones ! Why don't you go 
 fetch her now? But I will; I am tired of sitting still! 
 But — shall I? {Turning to Katrina.) 
 
 Katrina : Oh, yes — yes, Maryushka, go find her, do ! 
 
 Marya: {Going to Katrina.) You are anxious! 
 Why? 
 
 Katrina: {Nervously.) Oh, I don't know! But 
 — go find her! (Marya runs off L. upper E.) 
 
 Sergius: {Seeing Bard.) Ah-ha, you, Rune- 
 Singer! This is an honour! Have you finished sing- 
 ing, now that the bridegroom has come, or may I not 
 have a ballad? 
 
 Bard: {Twanging his strings.) Ay — ay — yes, in- 
 deed! What will you have? 
 
 Anna: Oh, a Marriage Song! We have not had 
 the Marriage Song yet! 
 
 Sergius: Why, of course; a Marriage Song, in my 
 honour ! {Pleased. ) 
 
 Bard: What bridesmaid will sing it with me? 
 
 Sergius: {Looking at Anna.) You, Anna, — you! 
 
 Anna: Where is Marya? 
 
 A Guest : {Looking about.) She ran out just now. 
 
 Sergius: {Sentimentally.) I would rather hear 
 you sing alone, Anna! 
 
 Anna: {Archly, but flattered.) Oh, oh, — but what 
 would Minka say? 
 
MinKa's "Wedding 239 
 
 Sergius : Well, to-morrow Minka shall say if she 
 will, but not to-day ! 
 
 Anna: {Shakes her head at him laughingly.) Ah, 
 well, I should know not to trust you, if I were Minka ! 
 
 Sergius: {Laughs.) Ah, well the song! — Come! 
 
 Guests : Yes, the song ! 
 
 (Bard strikes chords and Anna sings or recites.) 
 
 Marriage Song 
 
 {To be Recitative with accompaniment of chords or 
 low running melody, or set to music, as preferred. ') 
 
 "Oh, come, my child, my darling one," 
 
 Anxious, the mother cries, — 
 "Come, and let me tell thee 
 
 Which way danger lies. — 
 
 "Go not to the garden close 
 
 Where apples hang too high, 
 Nor seize, upon the flowers swayed, 
 
 The mottled butterfly. 
 
 "The fruit that 's plucked before its time, 
 
 Its tree shall withered lie; 
 The butterfly that hands shall touch, 
 
 That frail poor thing shall die. 
 
 "Frighten not thou the little birds 
 
 Building their early nest; 
 And she who hears the nightingale 
 
 In silence shall be blest. 
 
 ' Adapted and versified by the author, from the translation 
 of W. R. S. Ralston's "Russian Folk Songs" given in Wiener's 
 Anthology of Russian Literature. 
 
240 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 " For as thou frightest building birds 
 
 So may thy home be torn; 
 And he who flouts the nightingale 
 
 Some day his soul shall mourn! 
 
 " But go, my child, my dear one, catch 
 
 The falcon in the field 
 And bring him to my hearthstone; 
 
 Thy fortune he shall yield." 
 
 The little daughter, heeding well, 
 
 Has caught the falcon bright 
 Out in the green, the open field. 
 
 And holds him with delight. 
 
 She runs then to her mother; 
 
 He perches on her hand, — 
 "See, now," she cries, "dear mother, see!" 
 
 — Across the meadowland — 
 
 "Oh, mother mine, dear mother mine, 
 
 The falcon I have caught, 
 Here to your hearth the falcon bright. 
 
 Dear mother, I have brought!" 
 
 (Bard twangs some final chords, and Anna turns 
 smiling to the guests, who applaud, clinking their 
 cups, and laughing gaily.) 
 
 Guests: Hey, hey! Good, Anna! A fine song! 
 {Etc., simultaneously and alternately, as Anna ends 
 and seats herself.) 
 
 Sergius: Ah-ha! (Pleased and laughing.) "The 
 falcon bright!" That is myself, eh?— "The falcon 
 bright"—? 
 
MinKa's W^eddin^ 241 
 
 Guests: {Good-naturedly, while they laugh and 
 drink.) Ay', ay, the falcon; Sergius, the Falcon! 
 Ay, ay ! {Alternately and in concert as before.) 
 
 (Marya runs in softly from L. upper E. and, 
 somewhat frightened, goes to Katrina.) 
 
 Marya: {To Katrina, sotto voce.) I cannot find 
 her; I cannot find her anywhere; I have looked ! 
 
 Katrina: {Alarmed.) And her grandmother? 
 Did you not find her? 
 
 Marya: {Shaking her head.) No-^no. {Looks 
 anxiously at Katrina.) 
 
 {Sounds outside.) 
 
 Vladimir: {Rising, looks guestioningly at Marya.) 
 Well, Marya, I hear some one at the gates now. It 
 must be the priest. Where is that foolish Minka? 
 
 Marya : {Shaking her head.) Why, I could not 
 find her! It is certainly very odd! 
 
 Ivan: {Coming down to group of Katrina, Vladi- 
 mir, and Marya.) Where is your daughter, now, 
 Katrina? I hear wheels in the road. The priest will 
 be here; where is she? 
 
 Katrina: {Foolishly and frightened.) Oh — oh, I 
 don't know, Ivan! 
 
 Ivan: {Wondering.) What, you foolish one? She 
 has slipped out? Go fetch her. 
 
 Katrina: Marya here can't find her; she has 
 looked. 
 
 (Vladimir rouses, walks about a bit as if thinking 
 what to do, and exit.) 
 
 Ivan: {Fuming.) Well, well, what is she thinking 
 of? It is her place to be here! 
 
 Katrina: {Almost tearfully.) Oh, Ivan — Ivan — 
 
 {Stammers and stops.) 
 
 Ivan: {Looking at her curiously.) What in the 
 16 
 
242 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 world 's the matter with you, Katrina? You are 
 always in a stew about something ! 
 
 Katrina: Dear, dear! don't say so! Ivan, Ivan, 
 you have made a mistake! It is too late! Dear, 
 dear ! Grandmother told us ; grandmother warned us, 
 — but I am afraid it is too late, — oh — oh ! 
 
 Ivan: (Angrily.) What are you chattering about? 
 Heaven knows! — You and my mother — ^what a man 
 must stand from you ! 
 
 (Vladimir enters, frowning and looking rather 
 perturbed.) 
 
 Vladimir : {Going to his father and speaking low.) 
 It is true that crazy Minka is nowhere about ; neither 
 is our grandmother, which makes it the odder ! What 
 could grandmother have gone for at this time? 
 
 Ivan: {As if not understanding him.) Hm? — 
 What? — They are not hereabout? 
 
 Katrina: {Wringing her hands.) Oh — oh! 
 
 Ivan: {With savage impatience.) Hush, Katrina, 
 do ! you will have the guests all frightened for nothing. 
 Vladimir is a careless one ; they are somewhere about ; 
 I will go myself! 
 
 {Exit, L. upper E.) 
 ' Sergius: {Coming down.) Hm? What is the 
 matter? The priest and the bride both absent ! That 
 would be a one-sided wedding, to be sure! I shall 
 have to be choosing some one else, presently, mother 
 Katrina; with who will for a priest! {Laughs.) 
 
 Katrina: {Laughs nervously, but tries to conceal 
 her disturbance.) Oh, how you young men jest! — 
 Now Vladimir, here, at the most serious times, — he 
 is ready with his foolish jesting ! I can tell you, if you 
 men are wanting to please the women, you would n't 
 do it; it makes us nervous! {Tries to laugh again.) 
 
MinKa's Wedding' 243 
 
 But, as for Minka, she will be here presently; her 
 father has just gone to fetch her. She slipped out, 
 for I don't know what, some trinket she had forgotten 
 to put on, the silly little one! — And she has no sense 
 about the time! — 
 
 Vladimir: {Who has been walking about restlessly, 
 looking disturbed and angry, and apparently thinking 
 things over, speaks aside, down Left.) That devil of a 
 Dmitry! What a fix! Why hadn't I more sense? 
 Father never would have; he never thinks anything 
 can go differently from his plans ! I might have seen 
 it all along! And it would have been as well, maybe, 
 ■ — quite as well; Dmitry is no bad sort! As good as 
 Sergius — and — But now something will have to be 
 done! — and quickly, too! 
 
 (Marya plucks Vladimir suddenly by the sleeve. 
 Other group, R. C, made up of Katrina, Ser- 
 gius, and Guests, drink brandy, pour tea from 
 the smoking samovar, and drink it, meantime. 
 Marya and Vladimir come down L. C.) 
 
 Marya: What 's the matter, Vladimir? 
 
 Vladimir: Hsh, Maryushka! The devil 's to pay, 
 indeed ! 
 
 Marya : {Looking frightened, but a bit mischievous 
 and speaking sotto voce.) Do you think it 's Dmitry? 
 
 Vladimir : It 's serious, Marya ; don't jest ! It 
 makes a lot of trouble, all this! If it 's so — then I '11 
 have to go right after them. That Dmitry is a devil 
 of a fellow ! — if he 's truly run off with Minka — 
 
 Marya: Oh — oh — you say so yourself ! 
 
 Vladimir : Sh — Marya ! Something must be done 
 this minute! When father comes back and has n't 
 found her, there '11 be an uproar at once. Father 
 has no prudence. Come, I 'm going! But — kiss me, 
 
244 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Marya; no one is looking! Some day soon, now, — we 
 shall be asking the priest to bless us, eh, eh, Mary- 
 ushka? — (Kisses her, while she pretends to avoid him 
 and laughs softly. He turns and hastens up to door 
 Centre Entrance — and slips out silently, just as Ivan 
 enters L. upper E. blustering.) 
 
 Ivan: Well — well, this is very strange, very 
 strange! Sergius, something has happened, I don't 
 know what ! There is no time to be lost making bones 
 of it, but out with it, to you ! It is certain, something 
 has happened! We are men, we must go and find 
 out! 
 
 Sergius: {Rousing from his jolly drinking.) 
 What 's up? What 's up, did you say? — What 's the 
 matter? The bride and the priest, are they coming? 
 {Rises.) 
 
 Ivan: {Excitedly.) That 's just it; they 're not 
 here! The girl is gone, — gone! Do you hear me, 
 man? 
 
 Sergius: {Becoming roused.) What? What 's 
 that you say? — What? {Coming out from behind the 
 table.) 
 
 Ivan : Get on your horses ! Come, — come ! 
 
 Guests: {Uproar.) What 's the matter? What 
 has happened? What is it? {Etc.) 
 
 Sergius: What? — what? 
 
 Ivan: {Raging about.) Come along, man! Who 
 but that Cossack Dmitry that 's been casting sheep's 
 eyes on my girl since the harvesting? — Ah — ah, I sup- 
 pose that 's it, — and I not to see it and take pre- 
 cautions ! 
 
 Katrina: {At his elbow.) Ay — ay — that 's just 
 it, — to have seen it before as we told you to — 
 
 Ivan: {Furiously, shaking her off.) Don't talk 
 
MinKa's "Wedding 245 
 
 about it now, fool woman ! The way of you — ! Why 
 did ye not speak in time? Always too late with your 
 "told you so"! 
 
 {Bounds towards the door, Sergius following.) 
 Katrina: {In tears.) Hm! the way of a man! 
 He will not listen, then blames us that he is not 
 warned in time! 
 
 {As Ivan is about to throw open the door, it opens 
 from without, and Vladimir appears in the door- 
 way, behind him the Grandmother. Vladimir 
 looks disturbed but resigned; the Grandmother's 
 eyes sparkle.) 
 Ivan: {Falling back astonished, but quickly begin- 
 ning to fume at sight of his mother.) Well — well, — now 
 mother, this is some of your witchwork, — I '11 warrant 
 you! 
 
 Grandmother: {Laying her hand on his arm.) 
 Come, come, now, — calm yourself, Ivan! It is youi- 
 own witchwork more than mine ; but it is all straight- 
 ened, and that is due to me ! 
 
 Katrina: Oh, mother, what has happened to 
 Minka? 
 
 Grandmother: Come, come, — they are not far 
 away ; and here, — here is the priest also. 
 
 Ivan : {A ngrily still.) ' ' They "— " they ' '— ? Who 
 are "they," indeed, mother? If 't is that young ras- 
 cal of a Cossack you mean with your "they" — 
 
 (Priest, holding cross, enters, and behind him, 
 rather sheepishly, come Minka and Dmitry. 
 Ivan starts angrily; Sergius puts his hand to his 
 sword; Vladimir looks half frowning, half enter- 
 tained; Marya dismayed; Katrina alarmed 
 and looks at Ivan pleadingly. Guests wait in 
 suspense. Priest raises hands to quiet them. 
 
246 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 and makes a gesture of blessing; all bow before 
 
 him respectfully.) 
 
 Priest : Ah, Ivan, little father ! (Ivan bows to him) 
 
 and Katrina! (Katrina bows also.) Here are your 
 
 children. I have married them ; you must give them 
 
 your blessing. 
 
 Sergius : {Blusters a bit, sotto voce, and presses for- 
 ward a step or two.) Father, they have deceived you! 
 IVAN: (Angrily, recovering from his astonishment.) 
 This is the bridegroom! {Indicating Sergius.) 
 
 (Priest looks from one to the other. Dmitry steps 
 forward.) 
 Dmitry: (ro Sergius.) Shall we be at swords in 
 the matter? 
 
 (Sergius grasps sword; uproar. Ivan angry, 
 storms about. Priest raises hands, and all 
 become quiet.) 
 Priest: Peace! Which loves the girl? 
 
 (Dmitry turns and puts his arm about Minka, as 
 if to indicate his right to protect her.) 
 Sergius: {Angry sotto voce.) Ah-ha, — so this was 
 the couple that was being married, while I was waiting 
 for the priest ! A pretty trick upon a person ! If I 'd 
 but known it — ! {Aloud to Priest.) She was pledged 
 to me. They have broken the contract. I claim her, 
 or the price of a broken contract I ' 
 
 Dmitry: {Laughing lightly.) Ho-ho! That is 
 easy! — With a horse over the steppes, Minka and I 
 are content ! You may. have the money ! — and more — 
 for the matter of that ! {He steps forward gaily, and 
 taking out coins from his leather pouch, hardly counting 
 them, tosses them on the table before Sergius. Sergius, 
 
 ' Part of old customs appertaining to a marriage. 
 
MinKa's Wedding 247 
 
 however, stands watching him hotly, with his arms 
 folded, and pays no attention to the money.) 
 
 Priest: Is this true? Were you not the true 
 bridegroom? {To Dmitry.) 
 
 Grandmother: {Bending low to speak into the 
 Priest's ear.) Father, there is no other true bride- 
 groom. Can you not see how the young people choose 
 each other? 
 
 Priest: What say you to this, Ivan? 
 
 Ivan : {Glowering.) My mother has deceived you. 
 Father ! I dare say it, though she be my mother ! It 
 is this young Sergius here, who is my choice. He is 
 telling the truth ! 
 
 Priest: Minka, do you hear? Why is it you do 
 not love this Sergius? 
 
 Minka: {Weeping.) Oh — ^oh, Father, I cannot 
 tell, — but I love Dmitry, and the very sight of Sergius 
 — makes me want to run away — 
 
 Priest: But he is well-looking, my child! 
 
 Minka: Oh — oh, I don't know, — but if he only 
 touches my hand, I shiver! 
 
 Sergius : Indeed, that is true, Father ; she should 
 have been made to treat me better, you see ! 
 
 Priest: {Meditatively.) Ah-ha! So it seems I have 
 made a bad mess of it ! (To Sergius.) This was foolish 
 of you, Sergius, though, it seems, — to wish to take a 
 girl to your home who wants to run away at sight of 
 you ! (Sergius is sullenly silent. The Priest turns to 
 Dmitry.) And where will you take your Minka? 
 You young Cossacks who are so fond of wandering, — 
 wives are not always so ready for that kind of life ! 
 
 Dmitry: To a good home by the Donetz, Father. 
 I have a place for my head, and need not always be in 
 the saddle, however I may love it ! 
 
248 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Minka: {Interrupting tearfully.) And if he had 
 not a place, Father, I would go with him wherever he 
 went — 
 
 Dmitry: But there will be no need of any such 
 haphazard, little one! Now — cease thy foolish tears! 
 
 Katrina: {Who has been weeping copiously, and 
 wiping her eyes.) Oh — oh, but when he goes to war, — ■ 
 what will my child do? 
 
 Vladimir : Oh, that is far-fetched, mother ! Don't 
 weep! You must always be hunting troubles before 
 they come! 
 
 Ivan: Ay, these foolish women, they are all alike; 
 heed you, Vladimir! 
 
 Katrina : Oh — oh, but indeed, troubles come ; see, 
 see, how this has come ! 
 
 {Continues sniffling.) 
 
 Ivan: Oh, sh! Will you never cease your wailing, 
 you foolish one ! It can help none, now ! — Hsh ! — 
 
 Priest: {Looking from one to the other.) Well, 
 then, what is to be done? Here is a broken contract, 
 to be sure, — but paid for. What do you say to it, 
 Sergius? 
 
 Minka: {Weeping.) But, Father, whatever he 
 says to it, I would never marry him! If he should 
 kill my Dmitry, I would never marry him ! And if I 
 had married him, I would have run away with my 
 Dmitry, — where Sergius would never have found me ! 
 
 Priest: Tut-tut, — daughter! {Pauses judicially.) 
 It seems that our daughter here decides the matter. 
 What have you to say, Sergius? An uncertain wife 
 that would be, to worry over, eh? — And after all {with 
 demure humour), I have already married them! 
 
 Minka: Yes, yes! We are already married! 
 {Clings to Dmitry, laughing nervously.) 
 
MinKa's "Wedding 249 
 
 Sergius : (Grumblingly.) 'T is not worth the 
 trouble of undoing! 
 
 (Folds his arms sullenly and stands back against 
 the wall.) 
 Dmitry: (Mockingly.) Ho-ho, what is that?— I 
 shall have something to say to that; "not worth the 
 trouble of undoing"? Say you so? You will eat 
 those words "not worth," if you have not a care! 
 (Puts hand to his sword.) 
 
 (Sergius mutters, putting his hand also to his) . 
 Minka: (Hastily, dragging at Dmitry's arm and 
 looking beseechingly at Sergius, in alarm.) Oh, no — 
 no ; indeed it is n't worth the trouble ! Oh, Dmitry, 
 indeed I will go no rood with you over the steppes, if 
 you do not put up your sword! 
 
 Dmitry : (Laughing at her.) Well , hush ye, Minka . 
 The trouble is but skin deep, with him; do not fear! 
 (He speaks sotto voce, but Sergius catches the 
 comment apparently, for he turns angrily again . 
 Minka clings terrified to Dmitry, who only 
 smiles nonchalantly, but with his hand on his 
 sword still.) 
 Priest: (Noting disturbance, makes a gesture to 
 quiet them.) Hsh, now, you young people! Naught 
 but peace is needed here for the smoothing of all this ! 
 (Turns to Ivan and Katrina.) It seems, then, — 
 it may stand so, best, eh, Ivan? — and you, Katrina? 
 Katrina : Oh, Father, Father, anything for peace ! 
 And with Minka married to Sergius, she would lead 
 him a dog's life ! One can see that ! Moping all day 
 for another one ; that is no way for a wife ! 'T is but a 
 pity we heeded it all not sooner! Yes, yes, — Father, 
 do as you please ! And after all, Dmitry is a fine fel- 
 low, sure enough ! ( Wipes eyes and seems cheering up.) 
 
250 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Ivan: (Sullen.) A pretty affair, hm ! 
 
 Vladimir : (Jovially claps his father on the shoulder.) 
 Oh, come, now ! There is Anna over there, blushing, 
 and good looking as Minka; and she won't run away 
 at the sight of Sergius, I '11 warrant ! Minka is a wild' 
 capricious thing, and better on the steppes with her 
 Cossack, — eh, grandmother, like yourself? (Across 
 the room Sergius steals a glance at Anna, who looks 
 down shyly; the Grandmother nods hack at Vladimir.) 
 And as for me, come — where is my Maryushka? We 
 are going to dance! This shall be a wedding feast 
 after all, and we shall send the two foolish ones off to 
 their Donetz River gaily! Come, now! All! 
 
 (He seizes Marya around the waist, peasant 
 fashion, the music strikes up in the orchestra, or 
 on the stage the Bard twangs chords on his instru- 
 ment. All pair off, and prepare for a dance.) • 
 
 Sergius: (Rousing angrily.) Yes, yes, all very 
 well, but this is no wedding feast for me to dance at. 
 (To Ivan and Katrina.) Little father, little mother, 
 this is no fault of yours! (Bows, scatters the money 
 scornfully, that Dmitry has laid on the table.) I want 
 no price for the insult to-night! No price at all, — 
 but — I 'd have ye all to know, that the looks of Anna's 
 eyes are sweeter to me than all the gold ye can scatter 
 about, or all the wild-hearted Cossack brides ye could 
 steal across the steppes! (He stands before Anna and 
 bows before her.) This night has shown me how bright 
 her eyes are, and how sweet her voice, for my good 
 fortune! Farewell, Anna; you and I shall see this 
 priest again! Never fear, and you will wait but the 
 next daylight's coming, for me ! (Stoops and kisses her 
 hand, then turns to Priest.) Fare you well. Father, — 
 till the luckier day again ! This was no fault of yours ! 
 
MinKa's Wedding' 251 
 
 {Goes dramatically to door, turns and hows to all.) 
 Farewell, Ivan; Katrina; Vladimir! Fear not for the 
 wedding feast there will be by and by — for even me — 
 from whom your Minka, here, escapes! Eh, — Anna? 
 {Waves his cap to Anna, and with a flourish, and still 
 with an air of scornful arrogance to cover his discomfiture, 
 makes his exit, with his companions, who bow about to 
 their hosts, and to the Priest and the Icon as they go. ') 
 
 Dmitry: {Looking after S^^givs.) A good fellow, 
 after all! He has pride, Minka! — Are you sorry? 
 
 Minka: No, no, Dmitry ! {Clingin,g to him.) 
 
 Dmitry: {Raising glass of vodka high.) Hey, 
 then? — Here 's to grandmothers for ever! 
 
 Grandmother: Hey, what? 
 
 Katrina: You did it, — you saved her, after all. 
 Granny ! Yes, it 's true you did ! {Still wiping her 
 eyes, but smiling now.) And we were stupid, that 's 
 true, too, Ivan and I ! But what did you do. Granny, 
 what did you do? 
 
 • Grandmother: {With eyes twinkling.) Eh? — I 
 kidnapped her, when it was too late, at last, and you 
 and my stubborn boy would hear naught! I knew! 
 I knew! — To have a young thing's heart broken? — Do 
 ye think I 'd let it be? 
 
 Ivan: {Still somewhat stormy, but attempting to join 
 in.) Ay — to grandmothers that kidnap their grand- 
 children ! — A pretty business ! {But he lifts a cup and 
 drinks too.) 
 
 Vladimir: Come, cheer up, father! Now, Marya! 
 But there will be one faithful marriage, father ! and as 
 it is planned! Eh, Maryushka? I wiU carry you 
 
 ' The Icon that hangs on every Russian wall is always saluted 
 by those entering and leaving the room. 
 
252 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 away on a horse across the steppes myself, if that is the 
 only way to please the women! Hey, now, — to the 
 Bride and the wild Cossack! — Hulla! {Waves a cup 
 of vodka, and bursts into the song " The Cossack and the 
 Maiden " ^ ; all join.) 
 
 {At the end of the song, Dmitry's Cossacks come 
 forward and fall into a Cossack dance. ^ Guests 
 and all seem to he drinking and laughing and 
 chatting and humming snatches of the dance tune. 
 At the end of the Cossack dance all standing 
 around the stage take hands and move forward and 
 hack as if beginning a ronde, or contra-dance, 
 singing again a verse of "The Cossack and the 
 Maiden." The doors are opened, and sounds of 
 harness rattling without are heard; Dmitry and 
 MiNKA separate themselves from the throng, take 
 Centre, and prepare to leave. As all cheer, wave 
 caps or vodka cups or scarfs, shout good luck 
 sayings, grouping themselves about the departing 
 couple, the Curtain descends.) 
 
 {End of Play.) 
 
 ' "Der Cosack und das Madchen," with English words also, 
 may be found in miscellaneous collections of European popular 
 folk-songs. Some are published or sold by Schirmer, Union Sq., 
 New York City. 
 
 ' This dance with directions for its use in schools will be found 
 in C. Ward Crampton's The Folk-Dance Book. See Bibliography, 
 Part I. 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 Bain: Slavonic Europe (see chaps, on History and Cossacks). 
 
 Bazan: Russia, its People and Literature. (Trans. Gardiner.) 
 
 Brandes: Poland (see chaps, on The Romance of the Ukraine, 
 etc.). — Impressions of Russia. 
 
 Curtin: The Mongols of Russia (for detailed account of the 
 princes from the beginning, see Vol. I. Including the ex- 
 peditions against the Polovtses by Igor). — Myths and Folk- 
 Tales of the Russians, V\?'estern Slavs, and Magyars. 
 
 Edwards: Russians at Home. 
 
 Griswold: Tales Dealing with Life in Russia. 
 
 KoRSAKOW: Russian Folk-Songs and Music. 
 
 Morfill: Story of Russia. 
 
 Pollen: Rhymes from the Russian. 
 
 Rambaud: Russie Epique. 
 
 Robinson: Historical View of the Language and Literature of 
 the Slav Nation. (Pub. Andover and New York.) 
 
 Wiener: Anthology of Russian Literature (extracts fronl 
 "Chronicle of Kiev," "The Word of Igor's Troop"). 
 
 Wolkonsky: Pictures of Russian History and Russian Litera- 
 ture. 
 (This BibUography is intended primarily for teachers. From 
 
 it they may make appropriate selections for pupils' reading.) 
 
 253 
 
Ill 
 
 FINAL PREPARATORY PERIOD 
 
 It is natural — and well — that in the advancing 
 period of final preparatory work the studies 
 of history and literature should require more spe- 
 cialising, and that the departments of each should 
 need too much detailed attention to bring them, 
 in combination, entirely into the scope of one 
 department. But this is exactly a point where the 
 dramatic department, if no longer able conveni- 
 ently and without complication to comprehend 
 the separate detailed reach of these studies, may 
 continually demonstrate their relation, by its 
 function of dramatic illustration of literature and 
 arts which are in their turn the offspring of those 
 social and political conditions relegated to the 
 special department of history study. 
 
 This part of preparatory work where the special- 
 ising of studies begins, and our convenient and 
 advantageous inclusion of them in one department 
 ends, — or their closer correlation in all their 
 stages becomes less practicable for one depart- 
 ment's work, if each study is to be done full 
 justice, — is appropriately the High School period 
 
 254 
 
Final Preparatory Period 255 
 
 or its equivalent, and in it the average age of the 
 students, therefore, reaches from fourteen or fifteen 
 to the time of collegiate work. 
 
 In the previous section of Part II, it has been 
 said that, with the idea of developing the best 
 aesthetic values of a dramatic department, the 
 lyrical elements of drama are best made predomi- 
 nant until we approach the final preparatory- 
 period, when the intellectual theme of the play 
 may be brought to the fore, while not excluding 
 the picturesque and realistic elements that have 
 been useful before in our work, and which, appro- 
 priately qualified and adjusted, have special values 
 of vitality and human interest to contribute. 
 
 With the more detailed material the specialising 
 in literature, history, and the arts brings to pupils, 
 the richer is the fund of it for suggestion in the 
 dramatic department where it may so well be 
 illustrated, — and the method recommended for 
 employing material up to this time will further 
 gain in efficacy, since its essential requirement of 
 continual emphasis upon the correlation of material 
 and appropriate application of forms employed 
 in connection with it, and with the agsthetic 
 needs of the pupils, will have the more varied 
 resources. More especially, the improvisation of 
 dramatic forms from the richer material suggested 
 to this department by those departments now 
 separated from it will continually strengthen the 
 impression made upon the pupils of the inter- 
 active tendencies of the peoples whose history and 
 
256 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 productions they are now spending special study 
 upon. 
 
 In the preceding periods of this department's 
 work, the pupils have been exercised in the 
 elementary forms of drama, such as might be 
 correlated with fitting materials of their study, 
 and with their personal capacity, and have 
 reached a preliminary understanding of more 
 intellectual dramatic forms to better illustrate 
 advancing studies; now they may not unfitly be 
 introduced to certain other varied forms, which, 
 as active forms of art, characterise the periods of 
 the history they are studying. Heretofore, they 
 have through their dramatic exercises illustrated 
 the narratives of history and romance presented to 
 them in forms chosen for their appropriateness to 
 the nature of the material, as well as to the pupils' 
 powers, but, except in the case of emplo3dng forms 
 of primitive ritual and pantomime and dances, 
 this choice has been without reference to study of 
 historic forms of drama itself. In the perio:!'s of 
 European history they will now consider in their 
 school cotirses, drama presents certain new and 
 well defined forms, and it is appropriate, therefore, 
 both in relation to their history and literature 
 study and their growing aesthetic capacity, that 
 the students learn something of the way in which 
 the peoples of various periods themselves expressed 
 their artistic impulses in more and more elaborate 
 and finished forms of drama and festivals. 
 
 We left our outline with a series of suggestions 
 
Final Preparatory Period 257 
 
 for work in dramatic illustration, correlating the 
 study of history with its attendant survey of 
 customs and arts, at the period approaching the 
 Renaissance. It was recommended in Section II 
 that the course be brought through this mediaeval 
 period following the great Charlemagne and con- 
 temporary cycles of history and romance, in a 
 preferably general and outline fashion, for the 
 purpose of again clinching our starting point in 
 the history of peoples with the explanatory di- 
 gression appropriatelj^ introduced, — before we left 
 the work at a point where its parts in continuance 
 must properly be specialised. Such an outline 
 treatment of this period is the most fitting one 
 for young pupils, obviously, because of the over- 
 whelming mass of influences which, at this time, 
 were focusing slowly towards the Renaissance, and 
 making an epoch so complex, yet so important to 
 the understanding of the flowering of western 
 civilisation, that it can only be studied to advan- 
 tage — after a first general survey — one aspect 
 at a time ; and in school work these aspects are to 
 be chosen only in the order of their appeal to the 
 ages of the pupils. 
 
 At this stage of school work, specialisation in 
 history and literature in American schools usu- 
 ally begins with English history, while the history 
 of the United States, already begun, is continued 
 to the present epoch, and such Etu-opean and other 
 foreign history is introduced as cannot be dis- 
 pensed with for the comprehension of English 
 
258 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 and American national development. Ancient 
 history is usually introduced only in outline form 
 and only a superficial survey of artistic, political 
 and intellectual developments belonging to its 
 consideration is possible or, indeed, suitable at 
 this time. As to its forms of the arts, in connection 
 with the point just brought up, so far as the 
 study of the dramatic forms of expression of the 
 peoples studied, is concerned, as has been stated 
 actual compositions of the classic period are 
 ob\'iousty too majestic and profoimd for young 
 students — but illustration of the forms of ritual 
 of the ancient civilisations may be introduced 
 for the older pupils, as also consideration of the 
 early forms of the Greek drama in more detail. 
 They may at least learn of the beautiful and simple 
 development of the choric forms from the irregular 
 ecstasies of the dithyrambic, and employ examples 
 of these in school fStes, where such forms may be 
 appropriately introduced, as for instance, in certain 
 pastorals. Presumably in this period of the pre- 
 paratory time, United States history may be 
 brought to the present, probably also English 
 history, — and these, well-taught, introduce a 
 good general knowledge of the contemporaneous 
 history of the other countries. 
 
 Whatever, in this progress of the nations, com- 
 mends itself for illustration through the dramatic 
 department, we may take, and consider in what 
 form it may best dress itself. Strong historic 
 events, striking incidents of stirring times, may be 
 
Final Preparatory Period 259 
 
 treated with the most direct and simple play con- 
 struction, and their substance will carry them, 
 whether we interweave much or little of pictur- 
 esque accessory, as previously suggested. As, for 
 instance, the story of Captain John Smith and 
 Pocohontas (or, rather, any of his stories, he being 
 so prolific in this respect!) is dramatic enough 
 in its plain main incident, though it may easily, 
 and interestingly, too, be set in the midst of por- 
 trayals of Indian rites and customs, and the 
 troubles and doings of the early colonists. In 
 England, in the same way, though it is perhaps 
 unnecessary to multiply instances, the incidents 
 of the Border Ballads are in themselves striking 
 enough to be plainly set, although the appro- 
 priate use of picturesque accessory may be made 
 to give richness and also the suspensive ele- 
 ment spoken of before, which, if well applied, 
 is a power in play convStruction. But when we 
 come to illustrating the quieter elements that 
 none the less build nations, dramatic illustra- 
 tion of them is a different matter, calling for 
 more subtlety in choice of mode and in arrange- 
 ment of effects to focus attention upon the cen- 
 tral theme. This brings us to the genre type 
 of play, or folk-play, which may include the 
 character type, and leads to the character play 
 proper, a higher form of composition than the play 
 in which incident is most emphasised. 
 
 Through the stages of development from the 
 liturgical drama, through "Mysteries," "Morali- 
 
26o THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 ties," and secular farce in the Middle. Ages, we 
 reach the Comedy of Art and its widespread 
 influence, and from that the true character play, 
 as especially exemplified in Molifere. Except for 
 the suggestion of certain dramatic arrangements 
 to be found in many of these developing forms, I 
 see no object whatever in introducing them in 
 full into school study prior to the work of a colle- 
 giate department which shotdd elect to make the 
 history and literature of drama a special study. 
 It is so obviously not possible, because of their 
 coarseness, to use the farces and moralities of the 
 Middle Ages as they are, for school students, 
 excepting a few compositions here and there, that 
 it is not to this point I refer, but to the matter 
 of form. 
 
 In connection with whatever study of customs 
 and arts enters the discussion of mediaeval his- 
 tory, the expression of the people's holiday spirit 
 which took form in " Mysteries, " Pageants, and 
 "Gild-Plays" is a distinctly striking feature, 
 and not to be neglected as information — but literal 
 imitation of their forms for a school exercise for 
 young students is objectionable for several reasons. 
 That they were rudimentary forms of drama is not 
 one of these reasons; for it is the simplest first 
 structure of them that the teacher may adapt and 
 use interestingly. It is the developing elaboration, 
 rather — so pell-mell, as it were, that it brought 
 that confusion of detail, utter neglect of time 
 values and of values of main and subordinate 
 
Final Preparatory Period 261 
 
 action, which characterises mediaeval representa- 
 tions. This is what makes it necessary for the 
 teacher to be careful in her selection of features 
 for illustration for this time of groping artistic 
 feeling in her pupils, if she does not wish to pro- 
 duce an effect on their minds of perplexity and 
 muddled sense of form. But it is to be recom- 
 mended that she make use of the forms of clearest 
 structure and of characteristic features in the 
 representations of this period in the development 
 of the arts, as vehicle for such historic or romantic 
 or quieter social or domestic incidents as it may 
 be profitable to cast in a dramatic form for her 
 class illustration. 
 
 The first simple form of the liturgical drama is 
 dignified, complete of its kind, and structurally 
 clear. In outline, first: the introductory address 
 from the pulpit, equivalent to the "prolog ' ' ; second : 
 music, and a processional; next: the interlocution 
 between officiating priest, or "prolog, " and charac- 
 ters entering in the processional, this interlocution 
 introducing the theme (through itself or through 
 consequent or simultaneous action) , as the drama- 
 tic centre of the form ; then : the resolution of the 
 dramatic proposition, through words or action, 
 followed by music and the final recessional expres- 
 sive of whatever sentiment would follow the 
 denouement of the theme. Such an outline 
 is applicable to the illustration of many themes. 
 
 The adoption of features from the further elabo- 
 rate development into the Mysteries of this simplest 
 
262 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 form of liturgical drama, presents some elements 
 for special consideration. In the first place, 
 since the Mysteries are largely built on the myth 
 and theology of the Romish Church, to intro- 
 duce the discussion of them necessitates explana- 
 tion of this theology .and mythology, to some 
 extent, and its comparison with others. It is 
 just such occasions as this, which, not regarded 
 as a difficidty, may rather make opportunity 
 for the discussion of matter concerning the de- 
 veloped forms of the main religions of the peoples, 
 — ^in some such ways as have already been con- 
 sidered in the previous section, with something 
 of their growth and attendant legend, poetry, and 
 ritual, stated in simple form, of course, by the 
 teacher, and adapted to the understanding of the 
 hearers, and ■vs'ith reference always to tmiversal 
 values and ideals. It is difificult to see how some 
 discussion of this element in htiman progress can 
 escape entering in definite form in any intelli- 
 gently correlated study of civilisation, — and it is 
 to be taken for granted that most teachers do so 
 introduce it in its proportionate measure all 
 along, and that it has its share in the illustrative 
 work we are discussing, through certain festival 
 forms, allegorical drama, and more, through the 
 daily work associated with their preparation. 
 
 But in considering mediaeval art, the main 
 influence was so distinctly that of the Romish 
 Church that, without expression of bias in any 
 way, it is yet a point to be made distinct to classes 
 
Final Preparatory Period 263 
 
 taking up a form of work such as drama, which 
 in so prominent a way introduces the subject. 
 Aside from this point, the consideration of the 
 Mysteries as an artistic form must relegate them 
 to the list of historical ciiriosities, part of 
 the phenomena of a markedly transitional stage. 
 Therefore, they are advisably introduced into 
 study as such phenomena, and not in any sense 
 to be confused with ideas of model form. Also, 
 for the same reason, they should be imitated 
 sparingly in school f^tes for yoimger pupils, who 
 are likely to so confuse them. There is time 
 enough for their consideration as part of the phe- 
 nomena in the genesis of dramatic forms, when the 
 study is made a special one in collegiate or cor- 
 respondingly advanced work. 
 
 As an expression of the naive and childish love 
 of "shows" and fetes, with unlimited opportunity 
 for the piling on of magnificence, regardless of 
 jumble, Pageants and Mystery Plays, more than 
 anything else, perhaps, represent the aspect of 
 the Middle Ages — a mass of. struggHng, het- 
 erogeneous atoms, glittering, harsh, or earthy, 
 awaiting the suave crystallisation of the Renais- 
 sance, which should assort them properly as 
 background, relief, and foil. But in measure, infor- 
 mation concerning the religious and other ideas 
 underlying the transition phenomena of the Middle 
 Ages, with needful explanation as indicated, must 
 of course belong even with the elementary history 
 and literature study appropriate to the final 
 
264 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 preparatory period. In a proportionate degree, 
 therefore, such typical features of the time as 
 the forms of public fSte and recreation must be 
 introduced, and simple adaptations of their naive 
 forms are both useful and charming. Especi- 
 ally features of the festival pageantry attendant 
 upon their performance may well be incorporated 
 in genre plays illustrative of the period, to give 
 colour and picturesqueness. The introduction of the 
 Mystery players in Josephine Preston Peabody's 
 The Piper is an instance of such use. For the 
 most part, such introduction of their feattires for 
 colour in plays of good dramatic structure, original 
 or adapted, is more to the purpose than any other 
 employment of them for this stage of school work. 
 To suggest such a theme: imagine, for instance, 
 some interesting incident in, say, a Ntiremberg 
 family, and have it connected TOth the giving of 
 a Mystery, or Pageant, or Gild Play, in the town. 
 Lead the action to the giving of the f§te in the 
 town square, with the townspeople participating, 
 and so on. This places the Mystery Play 
 in its human relation, and the pupils view its 
 fantastic form as such, and not as a model. In 
 such a case, the imagined family incident may be 
 used as an induction to lead to the f^te, or may 
 make the main thread of story running through 
 the play. 
 
 Pageants and Gild Plays representative of the 
 industries of communities present a more appro- 
 priate form of fete for young people than the 
 
Final Preparatory Period 265 
 
 Mysteries, and in the previous section the 
 adaptation of forms of these for recreational use 
 is recommended. Such forms have been widely 
 adapted in schools and the idea hardly needs 
 illustrative instances given here, to support it. 
 The main point is, in all cases, to regard the rela- 
 tion of the idea represented in any f^te, to the 
 general field of study. It is further important, 
 apropos of the discussion of special forms, to 
 maintain a consistent relationship in the portrayal 
 of manners and customs, and, where it can be 
 artistically done, in the use of forms, to the period 
 studied; needless to say, to the specific locality 
 which is the chosen scene. 
 
 The Moralities are interesting as the step from 
 the Mysteries to the character play of, first, the 
 set, then the free types, — after meandering through 
 the modifications of the secular play. Basing its 
 structure upon the interaction of abstract qualities, 
 the idea of the Morality Play may be adapted to 
 any time and theme, which fact is its recom- 
 mendation to the teacher. 
 
 While discussion of the manner of its mediaeval 
 presentation, as to costimies, scenes, and so on, is 
 matter of suitable historical information, to be 
 recommended for class study in the same way as 
 is that associated with the Mysteries and other 
 forms, and though it is interesting to reproduce 
 some simplified stiggestions of the mediaeval 
 setting for occasional illustration of history or 
 literature, the personification of qualities and 
 
266 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 the allegorical themes of the Moralities are in- 
 terestingly transferred to plays in a setting of the 
 present as well as of any other time. Allegory is 
 interesting to children, as well as appropriate 
 for them, for reasons already spoken of, and it is 
 open to elaboration in attractive ways, — to the 
 introduction of music, and of poetic forms of 
 expression. The Morality Play, like the Gild 
 Play and the Pageant, has come into favour, and 
 its forms are already adapted by teachers for 
 their use in numbers of schools,' so that, as in 
 the case of the latter, it is superfluous to outline 
 methods of using the simple Morality Play. 
 
 For the most part, the secular farces and the 
 satires of the Middle Ages, even when in the ama- 
 teur stages prior to the Renaissance, approach 
 the intellectual drama in their theme and dialogue 
 to an extent that sets them in the collegiate 
 period of special study of development of the 
 drama. Yet certain plays of these types have 
 been adapted to school use, as for instance the 
 well-known L 'Avocai Pathelin. But the stereo- 
 typed figures of the Comedy of Art, with their 
 origin in genre types, and to which the succession 
 of brilliant improvisateurs gave ever new and 
 vivacious qualities, have some of them survived 
 for our childhood's entertainment, in the clowns, 
 
 ' The work in this direction at the Ethical Culture School in 
 New York has already been cited. Some of the Brookline 
 (Mass.) and Boston schools have demonstrated the attractive- 
 ness of adaptations of these forms. 
 
Final Preparatory Period 267 
 
 Harlequins and Columbines, and Pantaloons of 
 Christmas pantomimes, and the circus, and because 
 they have always been so dearly beloved in the 
 "golden age" of each of us, the story of their most 
 brilliant epoch of existence ■will make an excep- 
 tional appeal to even young students who might 
 not go appreciatively very far into a consideration 
 of the subtly comic travesty of romance, the 
 gay satire, the cream of grotesquerie, the finish, 
 the nimbleness, which we imagine must have 
 characterised the mode of these Comedians of 
 Art — and whose tradition Coquelin in our own 
 day has seemed to embody and bring down to us 
 through his interpretations of Moliere, so directly, 
 in his turn, influenced by the art of the Italians. 
 In this connection the teacher will find at 
 any of our libraries Maiirice Sand's Masques et 
 Bouffons, containing plates of the twoscore and 
 more typical characters of these improvisatori, 
 from which those to be discussed in school may be 
 sketched, where the volumes cannot be withdrawn, 
 and at the end of each volume will be found ac- 
 counts of the prescribed and customary colours 
 and fabrics of the costumes worn by them. At 
 the end of the second volume of Dr. Mantzius's 
 History of Theatrical Art will be found an example 
 of the kind of scenario prepared by the managers 
 of these Italian players, which served as the skele- 
 ton upon which they were to improvise. It seems 
 to us so long and complex that it must have de- 
 manded indeed great skill and vivacity to make it 
 
268 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 hold an audience, but we remember that plays 
 lasted for days together in those times, and a 
 complex plot of not very heavy substance may 
 well have been treated as we treat a vaudeville 
 performance, something to be watched a while 
 and left by the holiday makers at the fairs and 
 f^tes, — and returned to at will. The frequent 
 introduction of the lazzi, or comic byplay carried 
 on by other characters than those sustaining the 
 main action, must have kept the balance between 
 monotony of story, and delight at the unexpected, 
 and while, cleverly done and introduced, they 
 were supposed to knit up the main incidents, 
 they undoubtedly produced an effect of relaxation 
 that obviated the monotony and tiresome com- 
 plexity of small incidents that appears to us in 
 the reading of the mere scenarios. 
 
 To reintroduce the pantomime characters of 
 childhood, yet in a manner in the more brilliant 
 dress of the Comedy of Art's mode, and in con- 
 nection with what we elect to tell the young classes 
 of this Renaissance product of dramatic art, I 
 have prepared a sort of holiday farce somewhat 
 after the fashion of these old scenarios though 
 with a much simpler thread and less tangle of 
 incidents. The play I present is ■wiitten in full, 
 but if it interests a class to present such an idea 
 in pantomime form, or to impro\'ise upon any 
 other chosen or similar scenario in the fashion of 
 the sixteenth-century Italians, instead, my exam- 
 ple may serve as a suggestion. 
 
Final Preparatory Period 269 
 
 But before we leave this preparatory time of 
 school work, there remains to be considered 
 another product of the mediaeval art impulse, the 
 forms of which may be applied to our own out- 
 door festivals. This is the Pastoral of Exirope, 
 which, revived from the classic eclogue, blew to 
 such brilliant flower during the Renaissance, only 
 to grow attenuated and artificial, and from its very 
 dependence on form rather than substance, sur- 
 vived at last only as the lyric accessory, as inter- 
 mezzi, to dramas of more substantial content. 
 While the forms of the bucolic play may be adapted 
 very beautifully to ffites in the schools, especially to 
 out-of-door f^tes, as specified, — in adapting them, 
 the ver}^ history of the rise and decline in favour 
 of this form of dramatic art suggests to us what 
 elements in its forms and which of its composi- 
 tions we may adopt and adapt successfully for 
 young people, whose wholesome minds reject 
 the over-fantastic, insipid, and artificial. 
 
 The shepherd and his sheep; the music contests 
 between country swains; the Maypole dance of 
 rustic girls and boys; even a moonlight dance of 
 tree or stream spirits, with comic elves for anti- 
 masque, or a simple allegorical masquing that 
 does not reach the over-fantastic or gruesome, all 
 such furnish material, and passages may be found 
 in the literature of the eclogues which may be 
 adapted or sometimes used as they are. This 
 literature is surprisingly full of fresh lyrical 
 feeling, considering the few and essentially senti- 
 
270 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 mental main themes the bulk of it had, — except- 
 ing its most brilliant products; and songs and 
 lyrical dialogues, masques and antic fairy passages 
 of a fresh and spontaneous order, with a little 
 searching, may be easily chosen from the mawkish 
 and artificially lovesick ones which seem to be cast 
 in such strain quite perfunctorily, at last, and only 
 for the sake of fashion. 
 
 This mawkish sentirnental element, it goes 
 without saying, is distasteful to children, as well 
 as tmsmtable, and also to be avoided is the atti- 
 tude of dilettante rusticity which characterised 
 the Pastoral when it became a fashionable play- 
 thing, — and which last condition was indeed its 
 death! In adapting compositions of this kind for 
 young people, these two points are to be heeded. 
 
 On the whole, as it has usually been employed, 
 the pastoral mode is slight and ephemeral. Idyllic 
 rather than dramatic, its use for lyrical passages 
 in outdoor fStes may be very beautiful; short 
 lyrical pastorals interspersed as intermezzi in a 
 musical or allegorical or poetic play to which they 
 are appropriate as accompaniment, add an element 
 of glamour and charm ; and its element introduced 
 through side characters and incidents into the 
 general scheme of a completely constructed drama, 
 to give colour and outdoor atmosphere, as it is 
 imsurpassably woven into the scheme of As You 
 Like It, carries a buoyancy, a certain insouciance, 
 that one still feels is not incompatible with good 
 human sense, and intelligent aims in life; — that 
 
Final Preparatory Period 271 
 
 is, it is still sanity, if on a holiday. These uses 
 of its forms and elements are perhaps those most 
 effective in dramatic representations. But they 
 are more than enough to give it raison d'etre: 
 without its impulse, even perhaps without the 
 specific impression caused by the short-lived 
 exotic development of the Pastoral as a thing 
 apart, the drama would be poorer by the measure 
 of a fresh and joyous lyricism, the best of its 
 laughter, and a spontaneous gaiety that only the 
 Pastoral, albeit only through its forms of sincer- 
 est expression, could have given, — possibly poorer, 
 too, for a more refined handling of the illusion of 
 beautiful scene. 
 
 In school use, the Pastoral suggests opportunitj'- 
 for the combination in charming lyrical forms of 
 the gayest and most wholesome of our modem 
 recreational features. Obviously the original nar- 
 rative form of the eclogue, and its simple dialogue 
 development, except where these give opportunity 
 for lively descriptive action, are not interesting 
 for school . use unaided by interludes of dance, 
 song, and music, or subsequent action to which 
 the dialogue or narrative acts as induction. These 
 combined forms the teacher and her class may 
 invent themselves, weaving into them such pastoral 
 Ij^rics of the poets as they wish, — or they may 
 choose and adapt the compositions of the more 
 highlj"^ developed and varied pastoral forms, which 
 combine already dramatic and lyric elements with 
 the narrative ones. 
 
272 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Ben Jonson's Sad Shepherd is illustrative of 
 very rich combination of the romantic and lyrical 
 in pastoral setting, and offers opportunity for very 
 beautiful adaptation, or at least suggestion to the 
 teacher for the composition of similar forms from 
 any other legendary material. If fanciful, it is 
 3'et, however, a play form, as distinct from the 
 fragile idyl carried by the fluting of a few shep- 
 herds' pipes, a rustic dance, a bit of buffoonery or 
 banter between masque and anti-masque, and for 
 this reason is a development from the Pastoral 
 which presents suggestions for complete festival 
 forms as the more fragmentary undramatic eclogue 
 does not . Numberless untried possibilities for com- 
 plete festival forms, and the beautiful out-of-door 
 play, suggest themselves from it. In Appendices 
 I and III, two festivals, The Greatest Gift and 
 The Pool oj Answers, — also illustrating other 
 points in the text, — apply here as suggestive of 
 festivals for outdoor setting, or especially appro- 
 priate for such, and of measurably dramatic 
 structure, that is, of a mode in which the plot is 
 carried actively rather than mainly presented 
 through narrative and lyrical passages. Struc- 
 turally plays, the idyllic setting and lyrical method 
 of development of theme accessory to the main 
 action, in such forms, bring them into the pastoral 
 class, and they serve to show what orders of festi- 
 vals may be built from the varieties of eclogue 
 material. For although the country idyl has 
 contributed gaiety, through dance, clowning, and 
 
Final Preparatory Period 273 
 
 rollicking colloquy, — other than jocular forms 
 may have appropriately an idyllic setting, for 
 which there is ample example in serious masques 
 and allegories associated with pastoral literature, 
 as for instance, Comiis, or the short rustic idyls 
 with a religious purport, such as are found in the 
 Hterature of the ' ' Mystery Plays . " In addition to 
 The Pool of Answers, in the Appendix to this sec- 
 tion I give also a short synopsis of Sannazaro's 
 Arcadia, which may suggest a form of Pastoral to 
 be built upon. I would suggest here again to the 
 teacher, in this connection, two books given in the 
 Bibliography, — Greg's Pastoral Poetry and Pas- 
 toral Drama, and Symonds's Italian Literature, as 
 guides to research in the literature of Pastorals. 
 
 A handy volume of pastoral songs from which 
 teachers may select ready material for such combi- 
 nations as are here recommended, for the arrange- 
 ment of a complete pastoral f^te, is Edmund K. 
 Chambers's English Pastorals. Some of the tyrics, 
 which are particularly melodious, and which con- 
 tain vivacious dialogue, suggest their use at once 
 as interludes in a setting of rustic groups preparing 
 for dances or games. 
 
 Certain ones of this type may be cited as appro- 
 priately serving for inductions or interludes, and, 
 even in cases where their themes are sentimental, 
 these have such charming fanciful elements, or the 
 country feeling and freshness enough to make the 
 sentimental quality inoffensive and not artificial, 
 for even sentimentality is sometimes sincere or 
 
274 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 spontaneously gay and charming. This is true, 
 for instance, of Philida's Love Call, "Ignoto" 
 (from England's Helicon) ; Country Glee, from The 
 Sun's Darling, Ford and Dekker; Daffodil from 
 the Ninth Eclogue, Michael Drayton; Sirena, 
 from The Shepherd's Sirena, Drayton; The Con- 
 test, also Drayton, from The Muses' Elysium, — 
 but this last contains complete development of 
 theme, and may suggest itself, therefore, as a 
 central feature in any composition, not only as 
 incidental, — that is, a complete festival scheme 
 might be based upon it, as we have suggested in 
 the case of the complete play forms in idyllic or 
 pastoral setting. 
 
 I have cited The Sad Shepherd, as suggestion 
 for complete schemes. It may, though unfinished, 
 be beautifully adapted, at least as to its lyrical 
 passages. There are also exquisite lyrics in 
 Jonson's Shepherd's Holy Day; his The Gypsies 
 offers picturesque, charming material, too, — in 
 fact, the collected volume of his masques is in 
 itself a treasure house of suggestion for out-of-door 
 f^tes. Comus, cited already in relation to allegorj'^ 
 in idyllic drama, has beautiful suggestion in its 
 lyrics and imagery. Shelley and more of the 
 poets one could cite, and one may find grist every- 
 where in literature, — though certain poets have 
 especially cast material in the eclogue forms in 
 ways to be most suggestive for the work we are 
 considering. 
 
 In the little handbook of Chambers, just men- 
 
Final Preparatory Period 275 
 
 tioned, there are a few lyrics suggestive of the 
 "piscatory eclogue,"^ and the selections from 
 John Gay's eclogues may be in part adapted, or 
 the suggestions of their rustic humour used for 
 comedy or semi -burlesque passages, with the actors 
 supposed to be husky and jolly country clowns, as 
 foil to more lyrical and daintier elements, where 
 such contrast is useful. "Patie and Roger" 
 from Allan Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd also offers 
 suggestions in its form and mood. 
 
 "The Peasants' Chorus" and "Osme's Song" 
 from Sylvia — George Darley — are two charming 
 lyrics not to be omitted from this citation. Al- 
 together, the field is very rich and once looked into 
 research itself wiU suggest material step by step. 
 The teacher herself must know first of all, 
 Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus, — especially The- 
 ocritus, the most sincere and freshest of idyllists. 
 Adapt or use the compositions or not for school 
 study, still to know them as idyls, true almost as 
 unstudied folk product rather than art, must give 
 a tone to one's taste in the field of pastoral 
 literature. Finally the folk-lyrics themselves, 
 of any people, must always make fundament- 
 ally true material for idylHc composition of any 
 kind. 
 
 ' Cf. Theocritus, Idyl XXI ; and the piscatory eclogs of San- 
 nazaro, in which the fisher people of the shore replace the 
 usual shepherds of the hills and fields. {"La novita del soggetto; 
 le malagevole oppozione, in che semhra esser la felicita con la triste 
 e laboriosa vita dei pescatori." Filipo Pagano, ed.: Arcadia, 
 Naples, 1825.) See also: Goethe's Fischerin. 
 
276 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Pxirther than these forms applied in simple 
 fashion, preparatory students do not average 
 ability to go, that is, with any thoroughness of 
 appreciation. Carefully selected, with reference 
 to what is the need of the student, in the sense of 
 what is seen to bring forth response in true en- 
 joyment, the brilliant compositions of the Renais- 
 sance, as of other epochs, have their place in the 
 preparatory periods of school. There are plenty 
 of appropriate methods of selecting and arranging 
 special passages, or of adapting whole composi- 
 tions without marring their symmetry, — and for 
 school use, especially for younger students, this is 
 the most approved plan to follow. While it is 
 true that education imposes always a step beyond 
 full comprehension in order to enlist aspiration, 
 to go too far blindly must leave a blank interval, 
 and it is as futile as pedantic to foist on immature 
 minds learning that should be, normally, beyond 
 young experience. There are certain coturses of 
 reading prescribed for "college preparatory work 
 that include compositions which may be shown to 
 come imder this head, and the point is pertinent 
 here, because it is just these courses which are 
 illustrated through dramatic representations. This 
 prescribed reading includes, together with much 
 that is appropriate, too much that might better 
 be introduced when it is more thoroughly absorbed 
 by the student, rather than earlier. It is impos- 
 sible to discuss instances here, but an explanation of 
 the exception taken to such parts of these courses, 
 
TKe Preparatory Period 277 
 
 will sufficiently clear the point in this- connection. 
 Many things do not impress the immature mind 
 so clearly as the brilliant teacher, who understands 
 them so well himself, when he gives out his material, 
 believes. In the period of predominant emotional 
 awakening, between twelve and twenty, the na- 
 tural sympathy is especially with what is lyrical 
 and gay, on the one hand, romantic and mystical, 
 on the other. Where the emotions are maturely 
 balanced with intellect, as in the older student, 
 there will be interest in compositions for which the 
 sympathy of the immature nature lags. Stead- 
 fast friendship, produced by the maturity of 
 reasonable affection; the subtleties of wit, irony, 
 satire; points of political honour; these are not fully 
 in the grasp of the impulsive, poetic, dreaming 
 stage of youth, inchoate because so tumultuously 
 awakening to the wonders of life, — and which 
 should not be hastened in its crystallisation. 
 Literary material dependent upon such intellec- 
 tually mature qualities and attributes for the 
 development of a central theme will not be fully 
 appreciated by young girls and boys. Yet certain 
 beautiful and noble things are a joy at this stage 
 of youth, as never again equally; others are an 
 effort and a mental harassment which will be a 
 greater satisfaction later. There is a certain 
 amount of precious time for each stage of develop- 
 ment ; why let the time for the more fitting response 
 — for that which gives most joy, and therefore 
 most culture — be usurped by the less fitting, that 
 
278 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 belongs better later, and which will, later, assert 
 its claim unurged? 
 
 It is easy to see how this applies to our dramatic 
 work, and why it bears considering. Even if it is 
 not qmte so easy to select our material for work 
 more accurately with reference to its relation to 
 the complex psychological needs of the child, 
 rather than first with relation to a prescribed 
 course of college reading, which time will modify, 
 — it is nevertheless of vital importance to do so. 
 Such a department as this, of both recreation and 
 definite culture, presents opportunity for as won- 
 derful work as can be done in the schools both as to 
 nature of material used for it, and as to effect on 
 personal growth. It is safe to say that no other 
 one department may be so comprehensive in its 
 scope, or include so many elements in the develop- 
 ment of the faculties, of aesthetic appreciation, 
 and of creative powers. To be brought to its 
 full value in the scheme of culture it needs to be 
 administered without hurry, never with anxiety 
 over its exhibitional use, and first of all, with 
 quiet and steady understanding of its value to the 
 child. 
 
 Beyond such outline presentation and explana- 
 tion of the forms of arts of the peoples, ancient and 
 modern, as may show how to usefully employ them 
 with relation to the field of work we are discussing, 
 it is not in the scheme of this book to go. The 
 purpose here has been to make clear, methods of 
 illustrating the cultural material which fits the 
 
THe Preparatory Period 279 
 
 preparatory years of education in school, through 
 an employment of forms of the lyrical arts and 
 of drama, which shall be appropriate, first of all, 
 to the stages of young people's growth; and to 
 suggest principles for the selection and arrange- 
 ment of material from such rich and varied fields 
 as shall give the fullest scope for origination on 
 teacher's and pupils' part, and for adaptation to 
 special needs. Therefore specific devices for the 
 preparation of festival work, or any illustrative 
 school drama, with analysis of model compositions, 
 and ready-made directions for use, although useful 
 in other treatments of the subject, are not given 
 space. The few complete plays and festival forms 
 given in the appendices — as has been stated — 
 are not given in any sense as models, but as sug- 
 gestions and to illustrate certain points in the 
 text. While leaving to the teacher the independ- 
 ent selection and arrangement of material, the 
 Bibliography has been progressively classified with 
 the intention of suggesting ways of simplifying 
 the task of consistently planning departments 
 for this newly specialized work, and so to definitely 
 supplement the fuller plans of research and of 
 method set forth in the main text. At least a 
 lastingly effectual way to help people is to give 
 them principles by which to help themselves; 
 in this work it ought to prove so, because each 
 teacher must continually adapt and specialise so 
 much; to suit her particular classes. Such prin- 
 ciples as have appeared to be of some value, in 
 
28o The Dramatic Festival 
 
 conjunction with certain apparent needs, are given 
 in this volume, and it is hoped they may so prove 
 to be in contributing to the further adjustment of 
 this work. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 REASONS for including The Course of True Love, 
 in this Appendix, the outline from Sannazaro's 
 Arcadia, and an idyllic or pastoral form of play, The 
 Pool of Answers, have been assigned in the foregoing 
 text. 
 
 Further, I take pleasure in including here, what I 
 have cited before, an outline of an ideal method of 
 conducting festival work. The outline has been 
 written for me by Dr. William E. Bohn, the work of 
 whose department, of English, at the Ethical Culture 
 School in New York it represents, and he kindly per- 
 mits me to use it here. The method is representa- 
 tive of the general festival work of the school which 
 was long wonderfully developed under Mr. Percival 
 Chubb, and is now in the hands of able successors. 
 
 The outline given refers to the preparation of a 
 play already mentioned in section II, Part II, of this 
 volume. The Quest, which was given on Patriots' Day 
 of this year (1912). 
 
 Dr. Bohn says: 
 
 "As regards the performance of this festival, I think 
 the principal facts to be emphasised are as follows: 
 
 "The play was actually planned, written, and per- 
 formed, the programme was designed and printed, and 
 some of the scenery, even, was painted, by the pupils 
 
 281 
 
282 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 themselves. Of course five departments of the 
 school co-operated in the production of the festival. 
 They all took part so enthusiastically it is difficult to 
 say to which' most credit belongs, if indeed to any one 
 more than to another. 
 
 "The playwriting was the charge of the English 
 Department. The dances were invented and the 
 dancers were trained by the Physical Culture Depart- 
 ment. The music was selected and the singers were 
 trained on the part of the Music Department. The 
 programme was designed, the scenes were painted, 
 the colour schemes and costumes were decided upon 
 by the Art Department. The costumes themselves 
 were designed by the Domestic Science Department. 
 
 "As to the production of the play itself. — Last June 
 when the children went home for their vacations, I 
 suggested to the members of the class finishing its 
 Junior year that it would be helpful if the various 
 members would bring back with them, after the 
 vacation, scenarios for plays, or at least ideas upon 
 which plays might be based. Three or four members 
 of the class took this suggestion and actually returned 
 with material upon which we could begin work. Of 
 three scenarios completed, one was selected. Then 
 the class set to work to write the play. The first two 
 acts were written by the whole class. The teacher 
 would give out each day as an assignment the writing 
 of the next scene. Then when all the scenes sub- 
 mitted had been read before the class, the best one 
 was selected by vote of the class. Suggestions for 
 changes were made, and as many good points in the 
 rejected scenes as possible were embodied in the scene 
 which had been chosen. Then a committee of the 
 class set to work to produce the finished composition 
 
The Preparatory Period 283 
 
 so far as that scene was concerned. This method was 
 kept up until two or three acts were completed. 
 
 "When it came to selecting the actors for the vari- 
 ous parts, choice was made by vote of the class. As 
 the work of rehearsing began, all of the pupils had a 
 chance to make criticisms or to suggest changes. So 
 the play as finally performed was, in a real sense, the 
 work of a communal body." 
 
 Such an outline as the above, from actual experience, 
 must be illuminative to teachers taking up festival 
 work — and, from a school where this work has 
 been so long brilliantly conducted, it comes with 
 added authority. I am grateful for the privilege of 
 using it here, to present to other teachers. It is to 
 be seen, however, that such power of co-operation and 
 of original work in a student body as the above out- 
 line supposes must be the result of perfect organisa- 
 tion of all the cultural forces in a school. To bring 
 about such a result by superficial means is impos- 
 sible, and the problem of every teacher who desires 
 it must be in the adjustment of preliminary methods 
 accordingly. To every teacher it is plain that the 
 crowning value of this result wotdd be, not that a 
 creditable festival was produced, but that the com- 
 munal work, and original effort towards its produc- 
 tion, meant splendid school organisation, and vital 
 and individual culture for students. 
 
THE COURSE OP TRUE LOVE 
 
 A Holiday Farce 
 
 (After the Fashion of the Comedy of Art 
 Scenarios) 
 
 285 
 
Characters: 
 
 Columbine ) 
 Harlequin | 
 
 Pantalone 
 
 burattino 
 
 Pasquella 
 Pedrolino 
 Tartaglia 
 Zanni 
 The Two 
 Rogues 
 
 CiNTHIO 
 
 Lovers 
 
 Father of Col- 
 umbine 
 
 Landlord of the 
 Inn 
 
 His Wife 
 
 Their Servant 
 
 The Sheriff 
 
 His Servant 
 
 An unwelcome 
 suitor of Col- 
 umbine 
 
 Habittially: 
 
 Charming 
 
 Gallant and insou- 
 ciant 
 
 Querulous 
 
 Penurious 
 Shrewish 
 Unlucky 
 Choleric 
 A scapegoat 
 
 Clever and slippery 
 
 Foppish and dis- 
 comfited 
 
 286 
 
THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE 
 
 Scene: A street in front of an Inn. 
 At rise: Pasquella looks out over the balcony, while 
 she wipes a dish. She is in a fret over something. 
 
 Pasquella: Burattino! Bu-rat-tino! Where is 
 that miserable wretch? (A sound of quarrelling ser- 
 vants is heard within.) Oh, oh! If it is n't one thing, 
 it's another! Wretches! Villains! {Rushes back into 
 the house.) 
 
 (Burattino enters from R. carrying a large basket 
 of provisions. His face is beaming.) 
 Burattino: {Peering into the basket.) Ah-ha! 
 Excellent, excellent ! {Smacks his lips. Seats himself 
 near C. on a bench beside Inn door.) And before I go 
 in — {Looks up at balcony. Inserts his hand in basket, 
 takes out some fruit, looks at it, puts it back. Takes out 
 a bottle of wine, inspects it, puts it back; a cake, same 
 business. Looks in again, uncorks bottle of wine. Pre- 
 pares to drink when the Two Rogues enter from Left, arm 
 in arm. They wink at each other at sight of the basket 
 of food, and approaching Burattino go one on either 
 side of him.) 
 
 First Rogue: Ah-ha! Good morning! 
 Second Rogue: What a delightful day! 
 
 {They seat themselves without more ado, one on 
 either side of Burattino.) 
 Burattino: {Looking up from one to the other.) 
 287 
 
288 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Ah, good day, good day to you, sirs ! What can I do 
 for you? 
 
 First Rogue: Oh, don't disturb yourself, sir! 
 Plenty of time! Let us sit here and look about. We 
 have come a good distance, sir! Ah, a wonderful 
 country, sir, — a wonderful country ! {Wags his head.) 
 This is very fine, here, — but — 
 
 BuRATTiNO: {Becoming interested.) Ah, indeed! 
 And where, may I ask — 
 
 First Rogue: Ah, such fare — such fare! {As if 
 with delightful reminiscence.) Why, the fruit, sir, — you 
 never saw the like — {He winks at the other thief, who 
 dips his hand in the basket unseen by the landlord who 
 now is listening to the talker, and extracting a piece of 
 fruit, begins to devour it surreptitiously while the First 
 Rogue holds the Landlord's attention with his gestures 
 and extravagant expressions as he talks.) 
 
 First Rogue: {Continuing.) Yes, indeed, the 
 size and colour of it is wonderful and it has the gift of 
 turning on its stems when one side is ripened in the 
 sun, till all are ruddy and mellow I Ah, sir, indeed ! — 
 and such partridges, troth they are as big as geese, 
 and melt in one's mouth with their fatness! And, 
 indeed, the people are wonderful, too, for such fine 
 eating, as you can well imagine! Laughing and 
 merriment all the time goes around at their meals, and 
 dance and song afterwards. Ah, it is a pleasure to 
 dance with the fine girls there, for their teeth are as 
 white as the luscious cheese they eat, and their cheeks 
 as red as their bubbling wine! {Smacks his lips and 
 wags his head. Burattino involuntarily mimics his 
 gestures and expression, so lost in listening does he 
 become.) 
 
 First Rogue : Ah, the wine ! {He makes gesture of 
 
The Course of True Love 289 
 
 drinking imaginary wine. The Second Rogue really 
 filches the wine bottle from the basket and drinks, and 
 slides the bottle back. He has been meantime helping 
 himself liberally to the other contents of the basket when- 
 ever he can do so under the Landlord's hands, without 
 being detected.) Ah, yes, yes, — what a pity the coun- 
 try is so far away ! One must walk, walk ! {action) and 
 ride, ride {expressive pantomime), hop, hop down hills 
 {pantomime of Rogue, complete action, which Landlord 
 imitates with hand gestures), then climb, climb, up! 
 {Pantomime with hands and legs. Burattino mimics 
 with hands and feet, but still sitting while the Rogue is 
 prancing about with his pantomimic description. He 
 pauses and sits down again finally, with a sigh of resig- 
 nation, presumably that such delightful countries can- 
 not be everywhere.) Ah, indeed! {Business of wink 
 and furtive gesture at other Rogue, who slyly wipes his 
 mouth, clears his throat, and begins to talk in his turn, 
 leaving the First Rogue the freedom of the basket.) 
 
 Second Rogue: {Wagging his head.) Ah, yes, 
 and I was there, too, but it is sad to see that in such a 
 wonderful country, there should be any wickedness, — • 
 tut-tut! 
 
 (Burattino transfers his attention to Second 
 Rogue) 
 
 Second Rogue: Ah, yes, — ah, yes, indeed ! {Wags 
 his head.) Thieves, sir, thieves! 
 
 Burattino: You don't say so ! 
 
 Second Rogue : Why, sir, can there be anything 
 worse than thieving? Indeed, may it not lead to all 
 the ills? — An honest man earns his dinner; a thief 
 • steals it ; the family are hungry, the wife scolds ; imme- 
 diately there is an uproar. She chases him from the 
 house ; he chases the thief. If by chance he kill him, 
 19 
 
290 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 he is a murderer; he is hung. There you have it! 
 Tut-tut, tut-tut! And all upon an honest man! 
 
 {He accompanies all this with vivid gesture or 
 entire action, entrancing Burattino. Mean- 
 while the other Rogue is finishing the contents of 
 the basket. A t the end of the tale both thieves rise, 
 and talking in prompt succession to each other, 
 with great effusion bid the spellbound Landlord 
 good-by.) 
 First Rogue : Ah, beautiful morning ! Good-day 
 to you ! 
 
 Second Rogue: A delightful talk! We shall call 
 at your inn again! 
 
 First Rogue : If your fare is as good as your com- 
 pany, sir! 
 
 Second Rogue: Of which there can be no doubt! 
 First Rogue: Delighted to have stopped here! 
 Second Rogue: Yes, great good fortune! May 
 we meet again! 
 
 First Rogue: Ah, good-by to you, sir! 
 
 {Bowing effusively they back away behind him, while 
 he looks, bewildered with their compliments, from 
 one to the other, without time to speak himself, but 
 bowing, smiling, and attempting to reply, so that 
 his mouth is open and he is comical in his efforts 
 at politeness that shall be equal to theirs. As 
 they reach the rear they join arms, and go off 
 looking back with comic gaiety and roguery, 
 chuckling together. When the Landlord recovers 
 himself, and gets over his daze, he looks down at 
 his basket, and is dismayed at the result of the 
 rogues' call.) 
 Burattino: Ow-wow! What? What? Rascals! 
 Wretches ! 
 
The Course of True Love 291 
 
 (With chagrin he picks Up crumbs of cake, tries the 
 
 bottle, shakes it, drains it at his lips. Makes 
 
 a wry face at the dregs. Paws desperately about 
 
 in the basket, his mouth turning down at the 
 
 corners, as if on the point of blubbering. Gets 
 
 up, shakes his fist after the thieves, and runs out 
 
 after them. Pasquella enters from Inn door, 
 
 comes down, sees basket.) 
 
 Pasquella: What, what? Wretch, villain! All 
 
 our lunch! The dog! The glutton! Where is he? — 
 
 Ah ! {Looks around angrily.) And then to run away ! 
 
 But wait! {She enters the house, fetches a broom, and 
 
 posts herself behind the door.) 
 
 {Voices of BuRATTiNO and another are heard from 
 around the corner of the house.) 
 BuRATTiNO: {Tearfully.) Ah, indeed, yes, and 
 such fine talk ! " Such wonderful things to eat there ' ' 
 ■ — and all the time — and then the other one, sir — 
 "How wicked it was to steal!" In the place where 
 he was the thieves, — and all the time, my dinner — 
 Pasquella: Thieves! "Dinner!" Indeed! 
 
 {She rushes out, just as Burattino with old 
 Pantalone turns the corner of the house. In her 
 rage she begins thrashing about with her broom, 
 but instead of striking Burattino, it is poor 
 Pantalone who gets the thwacks, for Burattino, 
 at her angry voice, gets nimbly out of the way.) 
 Pantalone: Ouch! Ouch! What is this? Why 
 — Ah! Woman! — 
 
 {In anger and amazement he tries to escape, but 
 
 before she discovers her mistake, he has been well 
 
 belaboured.) 
 
 Pasquella: {Seeing that it is Pantalone.) Oh, 
 
 ah, sir. {Drops broom.) Ah, what have I done, sir! 
 
292 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Where is my Burattino? I heard his voice and saw 
 him just as I came out of the house, sir! (Seeing 
 Burattino.) It 's like you, sir, to be getting out of the 
 way, and letting a poor innocent old gentleman get 
 your desserts! Why, sir {she walks down, points to 
 basket), here he comes home bringing luncheon for all, 
 but sits himself down and gobbles it up alone. Only 
 wait! (She turns to chase Burattino again with her 
 broom. He takes to his heils and from hiding behind 
 the house corner, peers out once in a while.) 
 
 Pantalone: But, dear madam, — the poor man 
 was telling me — 
 
 Pasquella : Poor man, indeed ! What lies was he 
 telling you? Though between you and me {whispers) 
 he is an honest man ; but this time he must explain — 
 
 Burattino: {From behind house corner, peering 
 out.) Yes, — but — 
 
 Pasquella: {Rushing at him.) Yes, "but!" 
 Come out and explain, sir — 
 
 (Burattino again vanishes with speed. Pas- 
 quella comes back to Pantalone.) 
 
 Pasquella : You see, you see, what a coward he is — 
 
 Pantalone: But my dear madam — if you would 
 let him — 
 
 Pasquella: But let him? What 's to prevent 
 him? — {She flourishes her broom again and glares about 
 towards B.'s retreat.) 
 
 Pantalone: But, my dear madam — he was but 
 now peacefully telling me — 
 
 Pasquella: You? — and why not me, indeed, sir? 
 Why not peacefully tell me — ? {She turns about 
 brandishing broom again, at which Burattino, who 
 has just peered out, retreats in terror again before she 
 sees him.) 
 
TKe Course of True Love 293 
 
 (Columbine enters at back with Harlequin. A 
 
 sight of Pantalone, she warningly pushes 
 
 Harlequin off, and he tiptoes away, hut not 
 
 quickly enough to escape the eye of Pantalone, 
 
 who turns at the moment.) 
 
 Pantalone: What 's this? what 's this? Oh-ho, 
 
 the rascal! I see, Columbine, again you 're trying to 
 
 fool your old father. Come here to me! 
 
 (Columbine, who was trying to go off, also, after 
 Harlequin, stops, and comes down dutifully, 
 but pouting, to her father.) 
 Columbine : Indeed, father, you treat me wretch- 
 edly. Can I help it if I meet Harlequin in the public 
 street? 
 
 Pantalone: {To Pasquella.) You see, I too 
 have my troubles! This miserable girl can't be con- 
 tent with the fine handsome fellow I 've picked out 
 for her. 
 
 Columbine: {Aside) Hmph! 
 Pasquella: What can you expect? And if she 
 won't be content, she will end with some miserable 
 rascal like my Burattino ! {Looks around again brand- 
 ishing broom; Burattino same business as before in 
 rear.) 
 
 (Pedrolino enters from Inn and after looking 
 around goes up and wrenches at broom in Pas- 
 quella's hands. She turns on him furiously _ 
 He has paroxysm of fright, then begins making 
 many bows, and pointing at house, takes hold of 
 broom, which she still holds, and makes gestures 
 of sweeping with it. She gives it to him, and 
 pushes him towards house violently, almost tum- 
 bling him over. He stumbles off, muttering, and 
 enters Inn.) 
 
294 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Pasquella: Yes, go, clown, and see you get 
 things clean! 
 
 (BuRATTiNO, peering out and seeing the broom 
 gone, ventures to emerge.) 
 
 BuRATTiNO: {Blusters.) What, what, what? A 
 "rascal like your Burattino"? A rascal, am I? 
 
 Pasquella: {Turning upon him.) What, you, 
 you — 
 
 {He retreats behind Pantalone.) 
 (CiNTHio appears at R. finely dressed and 
 becurled.) 
 
 Pantalone: Yes, and here, here is your Cinthio, 
 my Columbine, — a firter fellow — (Columbine pouts 
 and turns away.) See there, how she behaves! {To 
 Pasquella.) Good-morning, Cinthio. (Cinthio ap- 
 proaches, bowing. Meantime Pedrolino is seen 
 within Inn sweeping around the window frames, and 
 dusting about; as CiNTHio makes a fine bow, he appar- 
 ently accidentally pushes the broom through the open sash, 
 and into his face, knocking him down. Pantalone 
 rushes to help him. Pasquella rushes at Pedrolino, 
 who disappears, and she follows him into Inn. Burat- 
 tino follows Pantalone to commiserate Cinthio and 
 lurches about the two obsequiously. Columbine puts 
 her hand over her mouth to hide her laughter, runs up 
 stage, and beckons at back. Harlequin appears. They 
 point, gesture, and laugh at the group about Cinthio and 
 run off.) 
 
 Pantalone: {To Burattino.) What a servant 
 you have, sir! To knock a man in the face with a 
 dirty broom! 
 
 Cinthio: {Rising with pomposity.) You will 
 make me amends, sir! {To Burattino.) Where is 
 that rascally servant, sir? 
 
THe Course of True Love 295 
 
 BuRATTiNO: (Obsequiously.) Oh, indeed, sir! 
 Pray, sir! I — 
 
 (Pedrolino is heard within raising an outcry, 
 and Pasquella's voice angrily scolding him. 
 Presently a door hangs. Pedrolino appears at 
 back of stage running across and off at Left with 
 Pasquella after him.) 
 Pasquella: (Shrieking at Pedrolino.) Monkey! 
 Clown! I '11 teach you! Baboon! — 
 
 (CiNTHio instinctively makes a movement as if to 
 
 join the chase, but stops and begins smoothing 
 
 down his frills disturbed by his mishap.) 
 
 CiNTHio: A pretty way to treat one! And your 
 
 daughter, sir, she 's a hussy ! She was here, sir, I saw 
 
 her. Where is she now? She laughed and ran away. 
 
 A pretty kind of treatment! You may take it from 
 
 me, now, sir, I will not marry your daughter ! 
 
 Pantalone: (Distressed and apologetic.) Oh, my 
 good young Cinthio! Columbine has run away in 
 fright, I am sure, at the sight of such an attack on you. 
 Oh, I am sure she will be back ! 
 
 Cinthio : (Still huffed.) Well, and I care not now 
 at all whether or no she return, sir ! 
 
 Pantalone: Well, now, my dear sir, we will go 
 fetch her, and all will be well. 
 
 BuRATTiNO: (Solicitous to make peace.) Oh, my 
 dear sirs, — now — let us be at peace. See now, Zanni 
 shall bring us some wine — 
 
 (Pasquella re-enters from Left Upper Entrance 
 
 leading Pedrolino by the collar.) 
 
 Pasquella: (Panting and fretting.) A pretty 
 
 time; a pretty time I 've had of it ! With your fool of 
 
 a servant! And all for a pair of lovers' doings; a girl 
 
 that runs away from her father's choice and is only 
 
296 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 now strolling about the market with her sweetheart 
 
 while he buys sweets for her ! Hmph, — a pretty time ! 
 
 CiNTHio: Hey? "What 's that? The market-place? 
 
 Pantalone: Hey? The knave! 
 
 Pasquella: Ay, and when they saw me, they 
 
 made off, and that in haste, I can tell you, and no 
 
 knowing where they 're gone now ! 
 
 Pantalone: What 's that? Made off, did they? 
 CiNTHio: The impudent rascal! And which way 
 did they go, woman? 
 
 Pasquella: Oh, indeed, how could I be telling, 
 with my hands full to bring back this fool here? 
 
 (Pedrolino begins to gesture and point.) 
 CiNTHio: Well, well, he can show us the way. 
 Come now, clown, take us after them, and — (takes him 
 by the collar and shakes him) and I '11 teach you to poke 
 brooms in my face again ! Knock me down, will you? 
 — knock me down? (He gets warmed up as he speaks 
 and shakes Pedrolino with each sentence. Pedrolino 
 in pantomime of fear and apology.) Well, lead us 
 along! {With a push, and freeing Pedrolino.) 
 
 {All turn to go off Upper Left, Pasquella still 
 carrying the broom. Burattino turns and 
 picks up the basket, looks sadly in it, and carries 
 it off on his arm. Pedrolino leads. Panta- 
 lone and CiNTHio bring up the rear. As they 
 all creep off in comic procession, and on tiptoe 
 with exaggerated stealth. Harlequin and Colum- 
 bine enter from Left First Entrance, also stealthily 
 with fingers to lips and peering about. Simul- 
 taneously Tartaglia enters from R. ist E., in a 
 rage, and stammering. He carries a basket.) 
 Tartaglia : Rogues ! Wretches ! — What — what — 
 what — {He gobbles out his words with anger.) 
 
The Course of True Love 297 
 
 Columbine: {Approaching with Harlequin.) 
 Why Messer Tartaglia, what ails you? 
 
 Tartaglia: (Opening his basket and taking from it 
 a cabbage decked with ribbons.) What do you think of 
 this? Two rogues! Wretches! If I could but — 
 Why, my servant, poor fellow, he was bringing home 
 some fine partridges for me, — and what should happen 
 but he was set upon by two rogues and the birds 
 filched from him! And in its stead they must insult 
 me with the thing you see here; bah! And if it had 
 not been that I saw it from my window, the poor 
 clown would have had a drubbing, for he has a liking 
 for partridge himself ! A shame, indeed ; a decent man, 
 an honest man, treated so, and in his own town, by 
 outlandish knaves! Could I but lay my hands on 
 them — (Mutters and gobbles again angrily.) 
 
 Harlequin: Ah, now, Messer Tartaglia, don't 
 take on so, for there are more partridges to be had, 
 though it 's indeed a shame — 
 
 (The Two Rogues appear, first looking out from 
 either side of the Inn. They come down chuck- 
 ling to either side of the group, and begin making 
 low bows: When suddenly they catch sight of the 
 cabbage in Tartaglia's hands, they each make a 
 step of retreat, but seeing it is too late, wink at 
 each other, and prepare for an encounter of wits.) 
 Tartaglia: (Starting angrily at sight of them.) 
 My word for it, but it 's the two rogues? (He makes a 
 plunge towards one and then the other, shaking his fist, 
 but stands between, eyeing both alternately.) 
 
 First Rogue: (Taking a step towards Tartaglia, 
 with a sprightly air.) Ah, so it 's you, good sir, whose 
 servant was taking him such an interesting present 
 as a cabbage all finely trimmed in this style! Truly 
 
298 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 we thought 't was a shame, sir, — ahem — as if to say 
 —as it were, — fine clothes do not — ahem! 
 
 Tartaglia: (Strangling with rage.) As if to say? 
 — as if to say ? — Never mind what it 's to say ! Knave ! 
 What? What's that? My servant? Didn't I see 
 you — with my own eyes — (Makes a lunge at the 
 Rogue. 
 
 First Rogue : Not so fast, not so fast ! (Side 
 stepping and stopping with a bow to Tartaglia.) And 
 if it was your servant, my good sir, where is he pray, 
 that I may teach him a lesson? 
 
 Tartaglia: A lesson? A lesson? And why, pray — 
 (Angry, but growing bewildered.) 
 
 First Rogue : And he has a fine sense of a bargain, 
 sir, I can tell you, and to your advantage! But 't is 
 hardly the way to serve strangers to your town, sir, — 
 for a fine brace of partridges — 
 
 Tartaglia: Partridges? Partridges, sir? Indeed 
 that is what I saw you filching from him, sir — I — 
 (Lunges for him.) 
 
 First Rogue : (Side stepping.) Again wait, if 
 you please, sir! Your fine rogue of a servant, sir, is 
 either a knave, or you have him well trained and are 
 a knave yourself, sir; which, sir — 
 
 Tartaglia: (Wrathy.) A knave sir? I — I — ? — 
 (stammering.) 
 
 First Rogue: (Side stepping with a low bow.) 
 Which I, sir, — as I was about to say, — could not 
 believe, sir! — 
 
 Second Rogue: (Also, side stepping, with a like 
 bow.) Nor I, sir! 
 
 Tartaglia looks from one to the other comically. 
 During the talk of the First Rogue, the second 
 one has followed his talk with gestures of assent, 
 
TKe Course of True Love 299 
 
 nods, and bows, comically. Now he appears to 
 have caught his friend's cue enough to begin to 
 join in.) 
 
 Tartaglia: Oh, ah! 
 
 First Rogue: But your servant, sir, let me tell 
 you, is a great rogue, and you should know it. ( Vir- 
 tuously.) 
 
 Second Rogue: Ah, indeed, sir! {Wags his head.) 
 
 Tartaglia: {Lookingfrom one to the other.) Um — 
 ah? 
 
 First Rogue: My friend and I here, we were 
 innocently entering your town, with a fine brace of 
 partridges to sell in your market. 
 
 Second Rogue : Yes, indeed, a fine brace ! 
 
 Tartaglia: Hum, indeed! {Curious.) 
 
 First Rogue : We meet this man, — your valet, I 
 assume, sir. He says to us — "Ah — ha, just what my 
 master is sending me to the market to buy, and here 
 I meet you on the way, and shall be saved the trip." 
 That is what he said, sir. 
 
 Second Rogue : Indeed, so it was sir ! 
 
 (Tartaglia same business as before.) 
 
 First Rogue: "Come with me to my master," 
 said he, sir, "and he will pay you; and let me look at 
 the partridges, I think they are fine plump birds." 
 And, indeed, they were, sir ! 
 
 Second Rogue : Indeed they were, sir ! 
 
 First Rogue: So, with that, he takes the par- 
 tridges in his hands to feel of them, as we being honest, 
 suppose, — and presto, sir, before we could make a 
 move, he was taking to his heels with them! And 
 there on the ground he had set down his basket, shout- 
 ing and mocking at us as he ran, that it was more than 
 a bargain we would find within ! And sure enough so 
 
300 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 it was, sir, — but bedecked or not, we would sooner eat 
 partridge than the finest cabbage head that was ever 
 cut off! And this you see, sir — 
 
 Tartaglia: (Bewildered.) Why — why, but it was 
 you, sirs, I saw giving to my servant this miserable 
 fodder, and laying hands on him, sirs, to take away my 
 fine fat partridges, sirs — 
 
 First Rogue: {Aggrieved.) Indeed, sir, we might 
 well lay hands on him, and we wish we might again, 
 for to be sure we ran after him and filched back our 
 birds, — and but our own property, — and left with 
 him the fine gift he first had, just as you see ! 
 
 Tartaglia : {Puzzled the more, looking from one to 
 the other, then at the cabbage head.) But — how came 
 he by this? Who would have given this to me — Who 
 would? {Looks from one Rogue to other.) Ah, my 
 servant is a good servant — and indeed he has not the 
 wit for lies, so I doubt — ■ 
 
 First Rogue : {With a shrug.) Indeed, it does n't 
 concern me how he came by it. And he has the wit 
 to see the difference between that and a good par- 
 tridge, so he 's no doubt not such a fool as you think. 
 In the meantime we have each a leg of partridge left, 
 sir, so take them, to give your zany a drubbing with ! 
 {With a low how jie presents a roasted bird drum- 
 stick from his pouch to Tartaglia.) 
 
 Second Rogue : And I, sir ! {Presenting a second 
 drumstick, same business.) 
 
 Tartaglia : {Bewildered, looks from one to the other, 
 not knowing whether to be offended or not.) Well — oh, 
 ah — What — what ? — 
 
 {An outcry is heard, R. U. E., and Zanni, Tartag- 
 lia's servant, runs in, pointing at the two Rogues, 
 gesticulating and exclaiming.) 
 
XHe Course of True Love 301 
 
 Zanni: There, master! The rogues, the rogues! 
 At them! At them! 
 
 Tartaglia: (Angrily, turning around.) At them? 
 At them? Rogue yourself! I '11 teach you to bring 
 me cabbage heads tied with ribbons! A jest, is it? 
 And cheat strangers, will you? Ruin my good name, 
 will you? I '11 teach you — I '11 — 
 
 (Holding a drumstick in either hand, which he has 
 taken in a bewildered way from the two Rogues, 
 he chases Zanni off R. U. E. The Two Rogues 
 double up with merriment. Harlequin and 
 Columbine join with their mirth and come 
 down to talk to them.) 
 Harlequin : You are clever chaps ! Help us. 
 Second Rogue : What can we do for you? 
 Columbine: (Stepping forward.) My father 
 wants me to marry a fool. 
 
 First Rogue: What? Him? (Points at Har- 
 lequin.) 
 
 Harlequin: (Promptly knocks him down.) Take 
 that! (The others laugh.) 
 
 First Rogue : (Getting up and rubbing his bruises.) 
 You have a good arm. Come, we '11 be friends ! 
 
 (Shakes hands with Harlequin.) 
 Columbine: We want to escape. 
 The Rogues: (Laughing.) Well — that's easy! 
 Columbine: How? Where? 
 The Rogues: There 's the road — you both can 
 walk! 
 
 Columbine : But they will come after us^! 
 Second Rogue: Who? 
 
 Harlequin: Messer Pantalone, and the young 
 Signore Cinthio, but it 's likely they '11 bring others to 
 help give me a drubbing too! (Laughs.) 
 
302 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Columbine: Oh, you 're not afraid, are you? 
 Well, but whether they beat you or not, they '11 take 
 me home! (Begins to whimper.) And make me 
 marry Cinthio ! 
 
 Second Rogue : Well, and what can we do for you ? 
 
 Columbine: (Listening.) Hush, they are coming ! 
 (Outside, footsteps are heard in a measured, fur- 
 tive tramp and loud sounds of people saying 
 together: "Sh!" long drawn out and repeated 
 with the measured steps.) 
 
 Harlequin: (To Rogues.) Help me to defend 
 her. 
 
 Second Rogue : Wisdom is better than valour ; let 
 us first try wits. You go and hide. 
 
 Harlequin: Well, well, you are clever, and how 
 do I know you will not play me tricks as you have 
 others? 
 
 Second Rogue: Ha-ha, have I not seen the 
 strength of your arm? And I prefer wits. Go you 
 and hide. 
 
 Harlequin: (Looking at his arm.) Well, it is 
 strong still, if the temptation to tricks is too much for 
 you! And at least it can be but one vexation more, 
 eh. Columbine? Come, let us do what they say. 
 
 Columbine : What ? 
 
 Harlequin: (Taking her hand and leading her 
 behind the Inn to R.) Hide here, and see what comes. 
 
 Second Rogue: Wait , first tell us who are coming ? 
 Name them again. 
 
 Harlequin: Messer Pantalone — 
 
 Second Rogue: (Counting the names off on his 
 fingers.) 
 And who may he be? 
 
 Columbine : My father. 
 
TKe Course of True Love 303 
 
 Second Rogue : And so to be treated with due 
 respect. And then? 
 
 Harlequin: The Signore Cinthio. 
 
 Second Rogue: A young gentleman, I take it? 
 
 Columbine : A very foolish one. 
 
 Second Rogue: Still a young gentleman. 
 
 Harlequin: Who sets great store by his riches — 
 
 Columbine: And rightly, for he has little else! 
 {Scornfully.) 
 
 Second Rogue: Still, that is to be remembered; 
 a young gentleman, and rich. {Counts him off.) And 
 then? 
 
 Harlequin: None, that I know of, unless they 
 pick up townsfolk to help pursue us. 
 
 {Sounds again without of people approaching.) 
 
 Second Rogue: They have more than four feet 
 between them, if it is but the two of them ! We may 
 need more than wits ! But go, you two, and hide. 
 
 (Harlequin and Columbine listen a moment, and 
 then tiptoe off behind Inn, R.) 
 
 First Rogue : {Looking about him.) It is here we 
 played our trick this morning, if I mistake not ; I judge 
 we '11 not be in good odour! 
 
 Second Rogue: Well, well, come; prepare! Sit 
 you here. Two honest fellows would not be fretting. 
 {He seats himself coolly on bench by Inn door, and 
 motions his friend to do likewise. Begins to sing in a 
 loud cheerful tone.) Ti-rol, ti-rol, ti-riddle-rol — 
 {Turns to his friend.) And be you asleep and snoring, 
 as do those with a good conscience — or a full paunch! 
 Ha-ha! Ti-rol, ti-rol, ti-riddle-rol — {The other Rogue 
 does as he 's told.) 
 
 {Presently the procession of searchers after the 
 young couple enters L. U.E. They stop and fall 
 
304 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 back a step when they see and hear the Rogues. 
 The Second Rogue affects not to see them, and 
 keeps on singing.) 
 Second Rogue: {Singing.) 
 
 A gay song from an honest heart — 
 
 Ti-rol, ti-rol, ti-riddle-rol — 
 'T is ill to keep true lovers apart — Heigho — 
 With a gay song from an honest heart — Hey — 
 Pasquella: {Approachingandinterrupting.) Well, 
 upon my soul, who may you be, sir? 
 
 Second Rogue: {At first as if he did n't hear.) — A 
 gay song from an honest heart — {Then turning to see 
 her, apologetically springs up with hows and smiles.) 
 Why — oh — oh — Madam ! — 
 
 BuRATTiNo: {Gaping open-mouthed at the Rogue.) 
 An honest heart? An honest heart? — By all that 's 
 wonderful, the audacity of this ! 'T is the very rogues 
 that stole my dinner! Wait now, till I get at you! 
 {He is setting down his basket and preparing to 
 make a charge at the Rogues.) Singing, and asleep, 
 are they? And here in front of my very house! The 
 impudence — 
 
 Second Rogue: {As if with pleased surprise.) 
 Why, why — {Going towards Burattlno.) Upon my 
 word ! If here is n't the gentleman we were waiting 
 for! The landlord! Who treated us so hospitably 
 this morning! 
 
 BuRATTiNO: {The wind taken out of his sails.) Hos- 
 pitably ? — hospitably ? — The impu — why — er — 
 
 Second Rogue: {Turning to Pasquella.) Why, 
 this morning, this good man — your — relative, ma- 
 dam? — this morning — 
 
 Pasquella: My husband, worse luck, — and a 
 poor fool — 
 
TKe Course of True Love 305 
 
 Second Rogue: Oh, don't say so, madam, for a 
 better breakfast could n't have been served up to two 
 travellers than his kindness — 
 
 BuRATTiNO: My kindness — ? The — 
 
 Second Rogue: Ah, you do not appreciate your 
 husband, madam! His modesty — 
 
 BuRATTiNO: {Changing his tune a little.) Ahem! 
 
 Pasquella: So it was you, sirs, that got my 
 luncheon? Showing off his modesty, his hospitality, 
 is he, for the sake of strangers, — -while his wife goes 
 hungry? I'll — - {Turns threateningly towards Bvrat- 
 TINO again, who dodges behind Pedrolino.) 
 
 Second Rogue: Ah, but don't be too hasty, 
 madam! Without doubt he would have presented us 
 with a neat bill, but we were in a bit of a hurry — 
 
 Burattino: {Interrupting.) A bit of a hurry — 
 ah—! 
 
 Second Rogue: {Smiling.) Calm yourself, sir, 
 and let me add, we were but now on the point of 
 knocking at your door for it, — -if by this time it 
 chanced you had figured it up — so, sir, you see, sir — 
 {Conciliatory.) 
 
 Pasquella: {To Burattino.) Yes, fool that 
 you are ! I 've no doubt you kept the poor gentlemen 
 waiting while you bungled over figures, till they were 
 out of all patience for it! I 've seen you myself — 
 (Burattino tries to stammer out explanations. Pas- 
 quella turns to the Rogues.) Oh, yes, sirs, — indeed, 
 I can well believe it ! And every one must suffer for 
 his clumsiness, forsooth! I without my luncheon, 
 and led to blame two good gentlemen who have come 
 to settle their bill indeed! {ingratiatingly to Rogues). 
 The plague of my life, surely you are, sir! {to Burat- 
 tino, who stammers and instinctively dodges.) 
 
3o6 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 CiNTHio: {Who has been looking about, impa- 
 tiently.) Here, here, ceaise your squabbles. This is 
 not helping me t6 find the culprits we are after, — and 
 they may be but this moment getting away from us. 
 Come, 'Ser Pantalone, — this won't do. I — {Swagger- 
 ing about.) 
 
 Pasquella: {FidgettingJoBvsA'mNO.) "Well, go 
 you, now, sir, and make out your bill! 'T is n't every 
 patron that comes asking for it ! Get the benefit of it, 
 you zany, or they '11 be in a hurry again, the first thing 
 you know ! B e off with you ! {She begins pushing him 
 towards Inn door.) 
 
 First and Second Rogues: {Winking at each 
 other.) Ahem ! 
 
 (CiNTHio is wandering about, and occasionally 
 coming too near the corner of the Inn where Har- 
 lequin and Columbine have hidden. The two 
 Rogues nudge each other, and the First Rogue 
 approaches Cinthio, behind whom Pantalone 
 is also stepping about occasionally. The Second 
 Rogue engages Pantalone 's attention by walk- 
 ing towards him and pointing to Burattino.) 
 Second Rogue: Now, a hard lot for an honest 
 man! And a kindly soul, too! Ah, — to marry — 
 there a man is at once in prison, — and in Bedlam — 
 {Wags his head. Pantalone looks up at him 
 responsively.) 
 First Rogue: {Approaching Cinthio and doffing 
 his cap.) Ah, Signore, — surely I have met you before ! 
 This is Signore Cinthio, is it not? and — but recently — 
 Cinthio : {Looking at him with astonishment.) Why, 
 sir, how is it you know my name? I never laid eyes 
 ' on you before now ! 
 
 First Rogue: {As if surprised, and slightly of- 
 
THe Course of Tr\ie Love 307 
 
 fended.) Well, well, sir, I 'm sure I had no notion of 
 being treated by an acquaintance, thus, sir! — Why 
 {raising his voice so thai all may clearly hear) — how can 
 you not recall me, sir? I am the cousin of that young 
 Milanese lady, sir, to whom, if I mistake not, you are 
 betrothed! (Pantalone stops the talk he was appar- 
 ently entering with the Second Rogue, and comes a 
 step nearer the others.) 
 
 Pantalone: What? — What is that? 
 
 CiNTHio: {Stammering and astonished.) I — sir? I 
 — What do you mean, sir? 
 
 Pantalone: {Coming nearer.) A Milanese lady, 
 sir? — And this Venice, — and my daughter never out 
 of the town, sir — What — what — ? 
 
 First Rogue: {As if puzzled, but suspicious.) 
 Ah — um! Well, well, ahem! A mistake, perhaps 
 {raising his eyebrows with intentional significance) — 
 but I thought I could hardly be mistaken, having met 
 you often — that is — fairly often {with a shrug, and a 
 side glance at Cinthio as if willing to soften his scrape 
 for him in others' presence) and knowing from my 
 cousin that you had been away from Milan for a con- 
 siderable time, — on — ahem — pressing business, as she 
 supposes, sir. 
 
 Cinthio: {Becoming more angry, and stammering.) 
 What are you saying, sir? — What — what — what? I — 
 I know no Milanese lady, sir! I — I never laid eyes on 
 you, sir! It is an outrageous — a mistake, sir — or an 
 impertinence — I know not, — but I mistrust you — sir — 
 I— I— 
 
 Pantalone: {Coming forward.) Well, well, this 
 puts a new face on things ! A Milanese lady, and you 
 betrothed to my daughter! Indeed! There is an 
 explanation necessary, somewhere — that is certain ! — 
 
3o8 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 {Looks from one to the other bewildered, suspicious, and 
 becoming angry.) 
 
 First Rogue: {With feigned anger.) Sirrah! You 
 {to CiNTHio) betrothed to a Venetian lady? {Laughs.) 
 A pretty game you play ! Why, you are quite a killer ! 
 Well, there will be a reckoning about this ! 
 
 Pantalone: Indeed, sir, {to Cinthio) fooling me 
 all this time, have you been, sir ! luring my daughter 
 into your clutches, sir! 
 
 Cinthio: {Enraged, with his hand to his sword.) 
 What, sir? — Some one will pay for this, sir! I — I — 
 your 're all mad, sir! 
 
 First Rogue : No swords, sir, no swords ! You 
 may put yourself deeper into a dilemma! Proofs will 
 be necessary, sir {threateningly). And my cousin, sir, 
 I am her next of kin, — her next male relative, sir — 
 father and brother to her — and I — 
 
 Cinthio: {Sputtering and red in the face hut ap- 
 parently frightened.) I — er — you — rascal — I — 
 
 Pantalone: Ay, indeed, proofs {angrily.) And I — 
 why you cannot say a straight sentence, sir, since the 
 accusation! {To the Rogue.) It will be necessary 
 to bring your cousin, sir, — and — 
 
 Second Rogue: {Righteously.) Ay, proofs in- 
 deed — (Cinthio backs away.) 
 
 Cinthio: {With a spurt of courage.) Ay, bring 
 your cousin, sir, — for on my faith, there is no such 
 person {backs away more) — and in the meantime I — 
 
 First Rogue : You '11 be off, will you? Nay, nay ! 
 
 Pantalone: No, stop him! Those who are not 
 guilty will face their tests! 
 
 {Moves towards Cinthio, who suddenly shows 
 alarm, and turns about, to be off. The First 
 Rogue lays hands on him and Cinthio turns, 
 
TKe Course of True Love 309 
 
 and struggling, thwacks the Rogue over the head. 
 Tartaglia enters, running in.) 
 Tartaglia: What 's this? What 's this? 
 Pantalone : A liar, a knave, a deceiver of women ! 
 — Take him, — stop him! 
 
 Tartaglia: Which, sir, which? 
 Pantalone: The fine young gentleman, Signore 
 Cinthio! Ah, a fig for his fine feathers, indeed, and 
 his father an honest man — and respected ! Ah ! Take 
 him — see how he pummels the man who finds him 
 out — whose cousin — Take him — ! 
 
 First Rogue : Ay, help, he is a tougher customer 
 than I thought! Help, before he gets away ! Arrest 
 him! 
 
 Tartaglia : And what for ? I can make no arrests 
 without good reason — sirs — 
 
 Second Rogue: Assault, sir, assault, can you not 
 see ! See, with his sword, he would have ripped up my 
 good comrade but now! Take him, sir! 
 
 (Tartaglia stammers, and questions, and bungles 
 about, while the others rush upon Cinthio and 
 hold him. Cinthio cries loudly for help, but 
 the Rogues drown his cries, and put their hands 
 over his mouth.) 
 Tartaglia: {Coming up to group finally and bung- 
 ling about flourishing his stick.) Well, well, some one 
 must be bound , that is certain ! Some one — The peace 
 must be kept ! {But he only bungles about, flourishing 
 his stick and doing nothing. The two Rogues whip off 
 their belts, and bind Cinthio about the arms.) 
 First Rogue : Now we have him ! 
 Tartaglia : (Mopping his forehead as if he had done 
 all the work.) Ay, indeed, and now — 
 Second Rogue: Here he shall sit ! (rwo Rogues 
 
310 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 lead him to bench.) And will only be let loose when 
 he answers all questions honestly ! 
 
 Tartaglia: Let loose, indeed! A prisoner, and 
 after such a run as I 've had for it ! To jail with him ! 
 
 First :Rogue : Ah, good sir, — let us have our way ; 
 we are lenient gentlemen! If the fellow will but be 
 honest — why then — 
 
 Tartaglia: Ahem — we shall see! We shall see! — 
 Out of order — out of order! No — no — But I will 
 see! 
 
 CiNTHio: {Breathless.) Wretches! It is they — 
 sheriff — it is they! — Lies — and tricks! — Believe a 
 stranger — a lying stranger before a citizen? — Ah — 
 
 Tartaglia: {Bewildered.) Ahem — we shall see — 
 we shall see! 
 
 Second Rogue: Do not all rogues talk so? But 
 we will be lenient ! 
 
 Pantalone: Ah, now, if but my daughter would 
 come along! — ^Ah, Colimibine — Columbine! These 
 young men — what is a father to do? 
 
 First Rogue : Columbine ! Is that your daughter's 
 name , sir ! Ah , a pretty name , indeed ! " Columbine ' ' 
 — and to be treated so! And my own cousin a like 
 sufferer! Of a truth, to be tarred and feathered were 
 not too much for a man of such a sort! For your 
 pretty Columbine I am sorry, sir. {He steps back as 
 he speaks, and opposite the hiding place of Harlequin 
 and Columbine, signals to her. She and Harlequin 
 appear, hut the Rogue motions Harlequin back before 
 he is seen. Columbine enters from hiding, looking 
 innocently about.) 
 
 Columbine : Why, father, did you not call me now ? 
 Indeed, I was stopping by the inn to gossip with the 
 maid, and I heard a great rumpus! I was afraid to 
 
The Course of True Love 311 
 
 come by, — but just now I heard my name — and the 
 noise seems quieted. What did you want, sir? {To 
 Pantalone. (Suddenly sees Cinthio.) Ah, and 
 what is this, pray? You, — the good Cinthio? In 
 trouble ! Ha-ha ! Faith, I wonder you had so much wit ! 
 
 Pantalone : In trouble indeed, — and, ah, daughter,- 
 if I 'd been having my way, he 'd have put us in with 
 himself ! Ah, a traitor ! Indeed, you were right when 
 you could not endure him, I see that now ! 
 
 First Rogue: Ay, a woman's wit! (Sagaciously 
 wags his head.) We are no match for it, good sir, — 
 and indeed, my cousin — 
 
 Pantalone : Ah, my daughter, it is not fitting for 
 you to hear the knavery of this man! In faith, this 
 gentleman's cousin was plighted to him, and by 
 chance heaven sent him this way in time, for another 
 hour and I should have had you wedded to the rascal ! 
 
 Cinthio:-. Lies! Abominable lies! I know no 
 cousins. (Struggles. Tartaglia stands over him with 
 club, and Second Rogue cows him with a look, also 
 standing over him, though with an air of nonchalance.) 
 
 Columbine: (With pretended ignorance and bewil- 
 derment.) Well, I know not what it is all about — but, 
 dear father, I don't think I 'd have wedded him within 
 the hour, i' faith, for I was on my way to the bazaar, 
 and indeed was not thinking of returning till supper 
 time. But — perhaps, dear father, you will trust me 
 now, — and when an honest man — if he is poor — asks 
 for my hand — 
 
 Pantalone: Hm! An honest man, and where is 
 he? (Suspiciously.) Faith, the, next time I '11 learn 
 a man's whereabouts from his cradle to his wedding 
 day, before he shall have you ! 
 
 Columbine: (Pretends to weep.) Oh, father, you 
 
312 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 are unjust, and cruel! You know well whom I love, 
 and that he is an honest man can be proved by the 
 way he never leaves my side ! Indeed, you know well 
 he has but lived in this town all his days, and the other 
 maids in the place are at odds with me, because he will 
 not speak a word to them. He is so good-looking and 
 gay, that they would all be pleased with my luck, but 
 you father — Oh ! ( Weeps again.) 
 
 Pantalone: (Looks at her doubtfully.) Ahem! 
 But a humble fellow, — and you — you could do better ! 
 — And— 
 
 Columbine: Yes, but you see what these rich 
 young men are up to — and a humble, honest fellow — 
 he would never think of such ugly tricks. (Tearfully.) 
 
 Pantalone : Well, but where is this honest fellow, 
 now when a time comes — 
 
 (Harlequin enters with a great dash as of cour- 
 age and protection.) 
 
 Harlequin: Ha! What is aU this? — Columbine! 
 In the midst of all this noise? I heard it from the 
 distance, when I was looking for you to go to the 
 bazaar ! (He goes up to her and boldly takes her in his 
 arms, with an air of resolute defiance of all the company.) 
 I moped, I wandered restlessly, till time to find you 
 came! Ah, why did you not make the hour earlier? 
 What has been happening here? — Until I see you, the 
 day is dark, and the other maids — Ah — bah! (A ges- 
 ture of disgust.) 
 
 Pantalone: (Nervously.) Ahem! But this — By 
 what right, sir? (To Harlequin) You are too ready 
 with your assurance — it seems — 
 
 Harlequin: (Paying no attention to Pantalone, 
 sees Cinthio.) Ha-ha! Signore Cinthio? And what 
 is this? 
 
XHe Course of True Love 313 
 
 CiNTHio: (WrafhfuUy.) Sirrah, you dare speak 
 in such a tone to me ! You — sheriff — I shall see that 
 you are called to account for this ! 
 
 (Tartaglia stammers, and gobbles, looks about 
 from one to the other, and apparently settling in 
 his mind that Cinthio, at least for the present, is 
 the proper culprit, lifts his baton again over him, 
 at which Cinthio expresses rage.) 
 (BuRATTiNO re-enters from the Inn bearing a long 
 bill, reading it to himself as he comes. Pas- 
 
 QUELLA follows Mm.) 
 
 First Rogue: (Looking at him in astonishment.) 
 And by my eye, ate we in long measure as much as 
 that? One would think we could not eat for a twelve- 
 month again! Faith, my paunch is near bursting at 
 the sight of it! 
 
 Second Rogue: {Clasping his forehead.) By the 
 gods! And mine too! Is this for us? You have 
 been at great pains, sir! 
 
 First Rogue : Not as great as ours would be had 
 we eaten the half length of it ! 
 
 {Both Rogues are merry in their banter, not 
 apparently dismayed.) 
 
 BuRATTiNO: [Bowing and presenting the bill before 
 them, holding it up.) Ay, indeed, sir, it is most care- 
 fully figured out, that no item should go unnoted ! 
 
 Second Rogue : We warrant you ! 
 
 BuRATTiNO: Ah, but also, that you should not be 
 cheated with payment for a crumb too much ! 
 
 First Rogue : Sir, you give us credit at least for 
 a most excellent digestion ! Would you might give our 
 pockets as long a credit ! 
 
 BuRATTiNO: Faith, I 've given you the day, sirs, 
 and strangers to the place I Indeed that 's unusual ! 
 
314 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 First Rogue : And the day, then, is it as long as 
 the bill? Faith, it would take longer to digest the 
 items of that! Well, well, come now to business. 
 'T is after all {with a wink at his comrade) not a cir- 
 cumstance to the pretty bills we paid in Milan, which 
 I doubt not our friend here {indicating Cinthio) may 
 remember us for, for though he 's churlish with his 
 welcome to his town, we gave him many a pretty 
 diversion in ours ! 
 
 Cinthio: What? — The rascal! the knave! His 
 town! His diversions! I never — Sheriff! {He is 
 subdued by the threatening gestures of those about him.) 
 
 Pantalone : Hear that, my daughter, hear that, — 
 and he pretends, this fine Signore Cinthio — to ignore 
 those who have been good to him! — and it is for a 
 good reason — indeed — ah, my poor child — that he is 
 unwilling to recognise them ! Ah ! 
 
 Second Rogue: Well, now — to the bill, good 
 Master Innkeeper ! Let us see ! The very reading of 
 it should serve us for dinner ! {Reads.) A veal pasty, 
 a large one. Faith, and the one I ate was far too small, 
 — we will carry a measure to the next inn ! And this 
 has cost us, this pasty — and if I remember it, 
 't was cold and a bit tough — 
 
 Pasquella: {Aside.) Hm! Fine words before! 
 My husband's "hospitality," and all — until the bill 
 comes ! 
 
 Second Rogue: {Continuing.) Ten paolo! Rob- 
 bery! {Wags his head, but good-naturedly.) A bottle 
 of Chianti, — but an ordinary wine that, and I remem- 
 ber no great mellowness in its flavour, and for this he 
 charges — 
 
 Burattino: 'T is an injustice sir, 't was old wine, 
 and of a quality that — 
 
XKe Course of Xrue Love 315 
 
 Second Rogue: Ah, we do not complain — and 
 only compare our taste with yours! Surely now the 
 advantage is soon to be yours, good sir! 
 
 First Rogue : Well, well, you are good at a bar- 
 gain, sir! Or your good wife, there, — for I mistrust 
 it is her doing, and not the outcome of a round-faced 
 good-nature like yours — 
 
 Pasquella: What? — What? 
 
 First Rogue: {Continuing, with only a glance in 
 Pasquella's direction.) Faith, madam, none but a 
 woman or a baker would have the wit to remember 
 the names of a hundred small cakes, and have them 
 down correctly with a price for each! {He makes a 
 bow of mock compliment to her.) 
 
 Pasquella : {Not knowing whether to be offended or 
 pleased.) Ahem — ahem! 
 
 Second Rogue: {Head on one side summing up.) 
 Hm ! — 'T is a goodly sum ! Ah, well, we ate and 
 enjoyed ! 'T is a trifle, if a bit of difference in our 
 calculations — 
 
 First Rogue: {With a shrug.) Hm! Ay, a trifle. 
 And innkeepers were never honest; but they 're bom, 
 not made, — and 't is not their fault. 
 
 Burattino: Ahem! Discontented, gentlemen? I 
 ■ — er — told my wife — 
 
 Pasquella: {Aside, angrily.) Zany, hold thy 
 tongue ! 
 
 Cinthio: {Interrupting savagely.) Here, here, 
 what is all this? This won't do. To sit here all day, 
 am I, while you haggle over your food bills! Sheriff, 
 what do you mean, sir? {He struggles to get up, pushes 
 the Sheriff aside, and goes for Harlequin with his 
 head.) 
 
 Harlequin: {Protecting Columbine.) What 
 
3i6 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 do you mean, sir? (Tumbles him over, and holds 
 him.) 
 
 Tartaglia: (Gobbling.) Here, here! (Makes for 
 the two and flourishes his stick.) 
 
 Pantalone: My daughter, my daughter! (Goes 
 to her.) 
 
 Harlequin: (Affecting ignorance and with a great 
 show of courage.) What is all this about? A hurly- 
 burly ever since I came upon you all? and all talking to 
 different ends? — Let's have an end to it! This yoimg 
 coxcomb here (indicating Cinthio) — you 've found a 
 knave, — is that it? And he it was, was to rob me of 
 my sweetheart? (Laughs.) Well, you may lead a 
 horse to water — Columbine, — ^where are you? (She 
 is crying on her father's arm.) Here (to the Rogues), 
 you gentlemen hold this fellow, and let us help the 
 sheriff do his duty, for he seems but able to stutter 
 and bungle about with his baton. Let's have this 
 knave in jail, — if knave he iS, — or prove he is not! 
 Come! 
 
 Columbine: (Admiringly.) Ah, good father, see 
 what a brave lad my choice is! How can you help 
 wishing for such an honest son? 
 
 (Pantalone looks doubtfully about.) 
 
 Pantalone : Ahem, well, daughter — (Hesitatingly.) 
 
 Columbine: Oh, Harlequin, my father is saying 
 what a brave man you are, — 
 
 Pantalone : Hush, child — I said no such — 
 
 Columbine: Oh, father, — but you know, — you 
 surely see — ■ 
 
 (The two Rogues come over to Harlequin.) 
 
 BuRATTiNO: Ah, but my bill, my bill! 
 
 Cinthio: Have done about your bill, and if I 'm 
 to be led to the court, let it be at once, for I am inno- 
 
TKe Course of True Love 317 
 
 cent, and I '11 bid some honest person there get word to 
 my father, and have you all — 
 
 (Tartaglia stammers apologetically.) 
 
 First Rogue : Well, indeed, sir, we '11 give a hand 
 to holding you here, but we '11 not pay this bill, till 
 we 've settled some points in it, for fair as our friend 
 the innkeeper, here, is, — we think his wife, not being 
 witness to our breakfast, has added unmerciful num- 
 bers to our stomachs' credit, and tho' there 's a place 
 for good-nature, still, it rankles to be put upon ! 
 
 CiNTHio : Faith, if there was a way to have it done 
 with! 
 
 Pasquella: And when these fine fellows with all 
 their talk pay the bill as it 's put down, it will be over 
 with, but not before ! 
 
 CiNTHio: Faith, I would myself readily pay the 
 difference, to be out of this ! What is your difference, 
 Messer Burattino, — out with it and let us have done, 
 if these knaves will not hand you what your wife asks, 
 though I 've no notion you 're any one of you the more 
 honest than another! 
 
 Second Rogue: (Jauntily.) Oh, sir, 'tis not a 
 matter of difference. If we can have it proven that 
 the bill stands correct, we '11 pay it as readily as if 
 't were but a paolo, instead of fifty ! 'T is a matter 
 of principle, and we'll not leave off till the fight is 
 done. 
 
 CiNTHio : Hm ! I ' ve a great notion of your ' ' prin- 
 ciples," for you 're a deuce of lying knaves, that 's what 
 you are, I '11 warrant, with your "Milanese lady," and 
 "met you before"! Out with you! And my name 
 into the bargain! How did you know it? — Surely 
 enough, you 're as clever as you 're rascally ! 
 
 Pantalone: Indeed, that 's just it! — His name 
 
3i8 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 he knew, and a stranger here! So how else but in 
 Milan — 
 
 CiNTHio: {Shrieks with rage.) In Milan? And 
 how know you they came from — 
 
 Harlequin: What a bawling! Let something be 
 done! Not so much noise, and all hopping about 
 like puppies! 
 
 CiNTHio : Sheriff, 't is your duty to take me to 
 a hearing, and now ! Stop your gaping, if I 'm to go, 
 and come with me. Unhand me from this fellow, too ! 
 {Indicating Harlequin.) 
 
 (Tartaglia only bungles impotently about, with 
 hums and haws.) 
 
 CiNTHio: Well, you fellows, — Messer Pantalone, 
 you, — any one, take me to the fit court, — since this 
 zany cannot ! And 't is hard with one, if a sheriff can- 
 not arrest him when he wants it, for justice sake and a 
 hearing, and to get a bailing from his father! — but 
 instead that one must have a sheriff about who is only 
 buttons, a paunch, and a stick, bawling about with a 
 stammer! 
 
 {The Rogues step up.) 
 
 First Rogue : Well, we 're willing to accompany 
 you, and see justice, for we have a tale as good as your 
 own. 
 
 Second Rogue : And if you had a good one, faith, 
 you 've had time to bring it out now ! 
 
 Pantalone: Ay, indeed! 
 
 Burattino : {As the Rogues take Harlequin's place, 
 and he turns to Columbine, while Tartaglia hovers 
 about as before.) No — no — no ! Not so fast ! 
 
 Pasquella: Indeed, no! 
 
 Burattino: Faith, I '11 have justice at the court 
 myself, for my good breakfast indeed — if that 's your 
 
The Course of True Love 319 
 
 song, — or not a one of you will step away from here 
 first! My money first, good sirs, before you leave 
 this place! 
 
 First Rogue : Not a paolo from us, without more 
 argument. Faith, there were many names of heathen 
 cakes there we never heard tell of, and if we were given 
 them unknowing 't was forcing food upon us under 
 false pretences! 
 
 BuRATTiNO: And if you talk that way, good sirs, 
 I '11 tell my wife, — how you filched my food from my 
 basket,— and waited not for any service in a civil way, 
 — and all without my permission ! 
 
 Rogues: {Severally.) Ha! What is that, good 
 sir? That foolish talk was settled long ago! 
 
 Pasquella : Faith, but if you pay not your bill, I 
 shall believe it ! 
 
 CiNTHio: Here, good landlord — what if I should 
 pay their bill and stop their squabbling? They are 
 mean knaves who will quibble over the names of 
 cakes, — and will never be done! 
 
 Pasquella: Faith, so I think! {Eagerly.) 'Tis 
 very good of you, Signore Cinthio! Indeed I never 
 would believe such ill tales as they would now be put- 
 ■ ting up against you, indeed — 
 
 BuRATTiNO : Ay, Master Cinthio, if you are willing, 
 surely it 's a way out of it ! And then we can go to the 
 court in peace, and find the bottom of it all ! 
 
 Cinthio: Well, and indeed, I 'm not such a fool 
 through and through, after all, as you think! Come 
 to think of it, if I pay the bill of these rogues, to free 
 myself — why not free myself here, with no further 
 trouble? Surely that will settle matters — 
 
 BuRATTiNO: Well. {Eagerly.) What say you? I 
 am willing. 
 
320 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 Pantalone: Nay, nay! 
 
 CiNTHio: Well, and then I '11 not pay, come to 
 think of it {stubbornly) . For if these two knaves go 
 to the court, they are swifter of tongue than any 
 honest man, and maybe my father '11 not bail me. 
 
 Harlequin: Ah, a sharper than one would take 
 you forj Cinthio, indeed! Since the poor landlord's 
 bill is less than a bailbond, — and — {with a shrug) 
 maybe there 's a reason why you 'd not wish to be 
 faced in court with these pretty tales! 
 
 Pantalone: Ay, indeed! So! 
 
 Columbine: Surely, father, I '11 not bear to see 
 him loosed until I 'm safely married to Harlequin, 
 for since he 's a traitor — and — {Begins to cry.) 
 
 Harlequin : And if he 's loosed before, I '11 bring 
 a charge myself, and have him there on my account ! 
 Saw you his battery of me? And when he 's there, 
 these other fellows here can bring their tales, which I 
 can well believe, but know no proof of! He '11 not 
 escape — trying to snarl my sweetheart in his meshes ! 
 
 Pantalone: Hm, yes — yes! {Scratches his head, 
 perplexed.) 
 
 Cinthio: {In despair.) Ye gods! The clock 
 stops! Nothing will move! when 't is n't one clog 't is 
 another! Troth, these girls, they put us in such 
 tangles as they 're not worth the pains for ! Hah, — ■ 
 bah! Take your daughter, Messer Pantalone, — but 
 when I 'm free, if Harlequin has married her — 
 
 Harlequin: These many years we 've lived in 
 these same streets, and yet I have not seen a danger 
 from your drubbing! 
 
 Columbine: Oh, oh, but me! Oh, father, let me 
 marry Harlequin before that wicked Cinthio is free ! 
 
 Burattino : Well, well, about the bill ! 
 
TKe Course of True Love 321 
 
 CiNTHio: Hm, if I pay it, who 'U free me? For 
 these rogues care not for me, and Harlequin is strong, 
 even if they did ! Tartaglia, you 're the one. Take 
 me to the court! 
 
 (BuRATTiNO and Pasquella stand in front of 
 him with the bill.) 
 
 Both: The bill! 
 
 CiNTHio : Hm, give it to them that owe it. Figure 
 it out with them! (Burattino and Pasquella still 
 stand.) Well — if you must stand planted — ! {Trying 
 to free himself from the Rogues, and shove Tartaglia 
 about and past Burattino and Pasquella.) Good 
 heavens, turn my pockets, take the money! (In 
 despair, he nods at his pockets with his head, and 
 reaches ineffectually for them with his tied hands. 
 Burattino makes a move, Pasquella follows, but 
 the Rogues, still holding him, nimbly use one hand each 
 to help themselves.) 
 
 First Rogue: So by your. leave! (Filching coin.) 
 
 Second Rogue: Ah, many thanks! 
 
 CiNTHio: Thieves! Not you! The landlord! 
 
 Rogues : Ah, no, you asked us to arrest you since 
 the sheriff 's futile, — and by your leave, the bail is 
 due to us ! 
 
 Burattino: But I, where do I come in? 
 
 The Rogues: (With a nod at each other.) Oh, 
 well, to prove our honesty, we '11 pay you what you 've 
 asked for — The change is bail, for us ! 
 
 (They divide, pay the Landlord with a lordly air, 
 and pocket the rest.) 
 
 CiNTHio: Arrest them, 'Ser Tartaglia! 
 
 Tartaglia: Hah! (Bungling about.) 
 
 Rogues: (Graciously.) And now shall we undo 
 you? 
 
322 The Dramatic Pestival 
 
 Harlequin: Nay, nay, I come in here! Arrest 
 him for assault! (To Tartaglia.) 
 
 (Tartaglia same business as always.) 
 
 CiNTHio: Ye gods! What next! Of course this 
 would be so! — and now unless my father bails me, — 
 I 've no money — Bah ! 
 
 Harlequin: Who '11 take him to the court? 
 
 CiNTHio: Is no way out of this? 
 
 Columbine: Unless you stay here till I 've mar- 
 ried Harlequin. 
 
 CiNTHio : (Furious.) Indeed I '11 not ! (Struggles 
 to free himself from Harlequin. The two Rogues are 
 standing by, with folded arms, now, smiling.) Here, 
 help, fellows, you promised you would free me ! 
 
 Rogues: So we would! His is another score! 
 We 've naught to say to that ! 
 
 Pantalone: (Helpless and nervously.) I know 
 not what to say ! Tartaglia, let 's all to court ! 
 
 (Tartaglia bungles about.) 
 
 Columbine: Oh, Harlequin, now let him go, and 
 come with me! And if Tartaglia can't, Pasquella, — 
 you can hold him ! 
 
 CiNTHio : This is too much ! And if my arms are 
 tied, I still have legs! 
 
 Harlequin: Perhaps not! (He sits Cinthio on 
 bench forcibly, in spite of his struggles and of Tartaglia, 
 who begins to dance about, — ties Cinthio 's ankles with 
 his scarf, stands up and looks down at him with folded 
 arms.) Now then ! (Cinthio tries to get to his feet, 
 and stumbles over.) 
 
 Cinthio: (To Rogues.) Here, help, you fellows! 
 
 Rogues : 'T is no more our affair! 
 
 Burattino: (Going to Cinthio.) And if you 're 
 not a knave, and you have paid my bill quite prettily, 
 
The Course of True Love 323 
 
 this treatment is a jot too rude, I 'm thinking. {Helps 
 CiNTHio to his feet.) 
 
 Harlequin: Look you now, landlord, he 's ar- 
 rested ! I Ve complained, and justly. I came in unof- 
 fending ; was attacked. If you untie him, loose him, 
 you ''re a culprit, likewise. Do you understand me? 
 
 BuRATTiNO: But 't were a pity, — ^an he 's proved 
 innocent — 
 
 Harlequin : My coimt 's a different one. 'T is 
 very well for you {sneers), when you 've your reck'ning 
 paid, to be so willing others should lose theirs ! And 
 I Ve a score of bigger value joined to my complaint, 
 good Sir; a wife, — that 's better than a wretched pasty, 
 and some tartlets ! 
 
 Columbine: {To Pantalone.) How he appre- 
 ciates me! Ah, now, come father, take us! 
 Pantalone: Hm! Where? 
 Columbine: Why, to the priest! 
 
 (Pantalone hums and haws.) 
 Harlequin: So, you '11 sit here, my man, tied so, 
 unless Tartaglia takes you to the court. That 's not 
 my business. But if, on my return, with Columbine 
 my wife, I find you here still tied, Tartaglia still mum- 
 bling doubtful of his duty, — I '11 then myself untie 
 you, — and discharge the plea ! See you, Ser Cinthio ! 
 {Coolly mocking.) 
 
 (Pantalone mumbles, Tartaglia bungles about, 
 stammering nothing. Harlequin takes Col- 
 umbine and starts for Upper Left Entrance, 
 Pantalone follows, but hesitatingly. Cinthio, 
 enraged, looks after them, makes a movement 
 to get up, at which Tartaglia dances, and 
 Cinthio relapses frowning on the bench again. 
 The two Rogues make bows all around, blandly 
 
324 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 smiling, and go off arm in arm as in previous 
 scene, — similar comedy business. Pasquella 
 and BuRATTiNO look open-mouthed at each other, 
 and at the departing ones. Pedrolino gapes 
 also after them and all about. Zanni looks out 
 from behind the Inn, sees Tartaglia, and keeps 
 out of his vision. Tartaglia dances about 
 CiNTHio for a moment, then looking after each 
 departing group, in a kind of frantic futility, 
 waves his stick, stammers, and runs a few steps in 
 each different direction.) 
 Tartaglia : I arrest you all ! {Gobbling and stam- 
 mering.) I arrest you all! 
 
 {Those going out continue calmly, unheeding him, 
 
 those on the scene dodge a little till he finally 
 
 comes down, and seeing Zanni, chases him at 
 
 once.) 
 
 Ah, clown, I 've caught you at last! Give away my 
 
 partridges, will you? Steal a cabbage head for me? 
 
 With ribbons on it? Insult me with it! Monkey, 
 
 booby ! {Exit after Zanni.) 
 
 (CiNTHio sits glowering on the bench, with the 
 other three remaining, Pasquella, Burattino, 
 and Pedrolino, gaping at him.) 
 
 Curtain 
 
 {End of Play) 
 
OUTLINE FROM SANNAZARO'S 
 "ARCADIA" 
 
 (Selected from the "Arguments" in the original.) 
 
 Note. — The outline is given for its suggestion of attractive 
 passages for utilisation in the preparation of outdoor fStes, and 
 the teacher wiU readily see how similar scenarios and detail may 
 be culled from many other classical compositions which, com- 
 plete, are too long or too full of recitals and the monotonous 
 succession of similar incidents, to be dramatic in effect. 
 
 I. — A company of shepherds, who, with their flocks, 
 have assembled, amuse themselves with competing 
 in feats of "rustic skill," — afield sports, songs, and the 
 like; "e ciascuno varie maniere cercando di sollazzare, 
 si dava maravigliosa festa." One of the number is sad, 
 so to comfort him another shepherd singles him out 
 and sings with him. 
 
 II. — They hail a later coming shepherd going along 
 the roads, and challenge him to match his skill in 
 song with theirs. He accepts, and contributes further 
 to the musical contest. 
 
 III. and IV. — A festival ensues sacred to the god- 
 dess of herds, with a priestly recital in her honour, and 
 further songs by the shepherds, and the offering of 
 prizes. ' 
 
 ' In adaptation of such a passage, praise of nature, of out- 
 of-door life, of the product and work of the fields, may replace 
 what in. the Arcadia or similar idyls are praises of special 
 Nature deities. 
 
 32s 
 
326 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 V. et seg. — The festival is diversified by a visit to 
 the tomb of a beloved shepherd in the woods where 
 "wanton satyrs frolic in the night." 
 
 The dead shepherd's praises are recited and sung, 
 an old man of the company sings of the merits of 
 olden times, and an exile relates his journeys. 
 
 The company trails off finally, its mood softened to 
 talk of serious and mystic things. 
 
 XII. — One, Sincero, lingering behind, because of 
 his sad mood, is led by a nymph through underground 
 caverns, where, among other wonders, he sees the 
 sources of famous rivers, and, following them, comes 
 at last to Naples. 
 
THE POOL OF ANSWERS 
 An Idyllic Play 
 
Characters : 
 
 The Mother Gypsy. 
 The Romany Rye. 
 Other Gypsies. 
 Townsfolk: 
 
 An Old Man. 
 
 An Elderly Man. 
 
 An Elderly Woman. 
 
 A Careworn Woman. 
 
 A Woman with a Vexing Son. 
 
 Two Young Girls. 
 
 A Youth. 
 
 Other Men and Women. 
 The Oreads. 
 Place: An Opening among Forest Trees. 
 
 A Pool in the Centre. 
 
 328 
 
COSTUME PLOT 
 
 The Mother Gypsy: {Fanciful.) A flowing garment, greens 
 and greys, girdled at the waist. About her shoulders for scarf or 
 kerchief a figured East Indian cotton. Hair in coroneted braids, 
 or flowing, wreathed with myrtle and brier rose. 
 
 The Romany Rye: Also distinctive and symbolic, not realistic 
 wholly, though in general style having the character of a gypsy 
 man's garb. Grey, green, or soft light brown tunic and breeches, 
 with white loose underblouse, and yellow kerchief knotted about 
 the neck. A picturesque cap, or brimmed hat with a pheasant's 
 feather or hawk's wing. Long hose of same colour as tunic and 
 breeches, or softly contrasted. 
 
 Other Gypsies: Picturesque gypsy garb: browns, greens; 
 here and there touches of cobalt, scarlet, Indian yellow; sparing 
 and carefully used crimson and purple. Also in some cases, 
 stuffs quaintly figured suggesting Persian or East Indian decora- 
 tion. 
 
 Townsfolk: Preferably provincial dress of some picturesque 
 nature, as 14th century English. Colour scheme simple, not 
 eccentric or picturesque in the degree of the gypsies' costuming. 
 Fovmdation colours in neutral tones. 
 
 Youth: Ohve green the note colour; white loose underblouse, 
 scarf with a note of contrast, — red, orange, rose colour, or 
 darker green. 
 
 Young Girls: Gay, light gowns, simple (according to period 
 chosen). Flowers in their hair or belts. 
 
 Young Woman: Light grey, or brown, furbelowed, and 
 ribboned wit cherry colour. 
 
 The Older Women: Sober housewives' gowns, with white 
 329 
 
330 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 kerchiefs or tuckers and caps, according to period. Foundation 
 colours of gowns, dark browns or drabs. 
 
 Old Man: Dark homespun clothes, grey, brown, or black. 
 White turn-over coUar and cuflfs, rufHed shirt or stock, according 
 to period. 
 
 Elderly Man: Prosperous-looking garb of a provincial towns- 
 man. One or two other townsmen to be similarly costumed. 
 
 Oreads: Filmy garments. Foundation colours, greys, greens, 
 soft browns, dull Indian yellows, and wine colour (the colours of 
 the foliage in early spring) , each with lighter veiling over it, — some 
 with grey, some with white, some with rainbow scarves. Hair 
 bound with tiny -leaved vines and berries, snowdrops, and spring 
 flowers. 
 
THE POOL OP ANSWERS 
 
 . Scene: An open space in a Grove, flanked and 
 backed by trees and shrubbery. A space towards the 
 front, centre, surrounded by stones and low greenery, 
 to simulate a Pool. One large flattened stone near 
 the Centre, rear rim. 
 
 Music: Soft, with intervals of sparkle, then flow- 
 ing, dreamy. Reminiscent of sounds of nature. ' 
 
 Oreads enter, separately, from behind and among 
 the trees. They dance noiselessly, and with first 
 antic, then dreamy measures. They dart in and out 
 from the greenery elusively, giving the impression of 
 never being in full view ; elvish, whimsical, but poetic 
 in their dance convolutions. 
 
 Mother Gypsy appears, Centre. The Oreads 
 dart in among the greenery and stand half concealed 
 there. The Mother Gypsy comes down and seats 
 herself on the flat stone, and looking off, with far-away 
 eyes, croons her song, but not sombrely, — rather with 
 a note of joy. 
 
 Mother Gypsy: {Singing.) 
 Ye who would know for iU or well ' 
 What I of the gypsy folk may tell: — 
 
 Without a path the bee finds honey, 
 
 The rabbit his burrow ; 
 
 ' A score is prepared separately for this play. 
 331 
 
332 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Knowledge is yours in the flame of a fire 
 — the flame of a fire — 
 {The Oreads dance out again near the edges of 
 the trees, darting about like shadows and light, 
 noiselessly.) 
 Mother Gypsy: 
 Without a path the bee finds honey, 
 The rabbit his burrow; 
 In the birds' call is your heart's desire! 
 
 {A lull falls for a moment. Then, first soft and 
 distant, without, approaching, the gypsy band is 
 heard singing gaily, — suggestive of mazurka 
 measure.) 
 Gypsies : 
 Tra-la-la-lala-la-la! See! hovering now — 
 How the snow mists shiver away ! 
 
 Under-the mat of the leaves the seedlings stir, — 
 Wake and lie still, 'sh ! like children at dawn ! 
 
 What in the rift of the trees goes flashing by? 
 See! up from the South — a harrow of birds! 
 
 Tra-la-la-lala-la-la ! Oh, now don't you hear 
 Soft ! — out of the woods — 
 Hark ! the robins' trill ! 
 
 {They enter, dancing, but subdue their merriment 
 at sight of the Mother Gypsy.) 
 The Rye : 'Sh ! — our Mother is here ! 
 
 {The Gypsies spread out in a semicircle behind 
 her, swaying softly as a finish to their gayer 
 dance.) 
 She rests ! 
 
 Gypsies : {Softly and chantingly.) 
 
THe Fool of A.ns"wers 
 
 333 
 
 With myrtle and a wild rose in her hair 
 Over the pool she sings, our Mother, the Queen! 
 Hear in her tones the voices of the birds, 
 — the secret early talking of the birds! 
 Downward in the pool her image trembles, 
 
 — with myrtle and a wild rose in her hair — 
 In the pool so like an eye 
 Watching the sky endlessly out of the roots of the 
 
 world ! 
 Behind the shadowy eyes, prophecy hides, shining like 
 a lamp far off, 
 Behind the soft veil of them! 
 Mother Gypsy: My children? 
 Gypsies: (All.) We have come! 
 
 (Then gathering near her, they offer their burdens, 
 while successively the leaders of each group speak. 
 Throughout the ensuing dialogue the chanting re- 
 citative tone is held, becoming lyrical in the 
 Mother Gypsy's chant, — until the Townsfolk 
 enter, when it becomes more colloquial until other- 
 wise specified.) 
 Gypsy Leaders: (Successively.) 
 
 We bring you early fruits 
 
 — ^And flowers 
 
 — And water from the wells the Spring has freed ! 
 
 Mother Gypsy: How have you followed me so 
 soon? 
 
 Rye : Along the ways where branches had grown 
 soft, because you passed them ! 
 
 A Bringer of Flowers : By way of the brooks, 
 that sang to know you passed, and waked these flowers 
 growing by their rims ! 
 
 Rye: We quickly found your path, watching the 
 way the South Wind blew the birds ! 
 
334 
 
 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Another Gypsy: Hark! Who come now this 
 way? 
 
 Another Gypsy: Some from the towns, maybe, 
 to hunt for joy — now winter 's shivered off! 
 
 Rye: Or question you, good Mother, — 'tis their 
 wont, — bringing their pent-up woes the winter 's left, 
 for you to clear away ; or to find out from you, if lovely 
 hopes that wake when in the dim recesses of the trees 
 the robins trill together, shall play false or true. — In 
 the clear pool where shines the endless sky they know 
 you read, good Mother, and can tell the answers to 
 the heart's desire I 
 Mother Gypsy: 
 I but read what they may read — 
 In my hands is the open book — 
 I but know what the waves have sung, 
 What the leaves tattle ! 
 
 In the birds' call is the heart's desire, — the heart's 
 desire ! 
 Several Gypsies : (Listening.) Hark! Now they 
 come creeping — Hark! — 
 
 (All listen — voices of many people are heard with- 
 out, — some dull, some gay.) 
 (Gypsies chant softly together.) 
 Hark ! Those who would know for ill or well — 
 What you of the gypsy -folk may tell — 
 Around the pool come creeping, — now come creeping ! 
 Hark! 
 
 {They pause again, listening and waiting.) 
 Mother Gypsy: (Chanting.) 
 I but know what the leaves have sung, what the waves 
 
 tattle — 
 Knowledge is yours in the flame of a fire — 
 From the Mid-Earth's fire, — her hidden fire! 
 
TKe Pool of Ans-wers 335 
 
 Gypsies : Here now they come ! 
 
 Rye: 
 Let us stand among the green ; 
 Leave them to the Mother Queen — 
 
 {The band distributes itself along the border of 
 trees.) 
 
 Mother Gypsy: {Crooning.) 
 Where the winds blow — among the leaves 
 Listen and hear! — from all the worlds — 
 Hear the secrets that they tell — 
 
 Golden secrets to the leaves — 
 Listen — and know! — 
 
 Townsfolk: {Severally, without.) 
 Who sings? — 
 
 I hear a strange voice like the winds! 
 What place is this? 
 
 {Entering.) 
 Ha, gypsies here, and surely there 's their Queen! 
 A strange, weird woman! 
 Will she tell our fate? 
 Maybe; but sometimes that 's not welcome! 
 
 A Young Girl: {Gaily.) Ha — good or bad — I '11 
 ask her mine! 
 
 Another Young Girl: And I! 
 
 An Old Woman: 
 Better not! Leave well enough alone! 
 Happy and young , and have not all you want? 
 
 First Young Girl : 
 What? all we want? Ah, no, indeed, not yet! 
 Come now, we '11 ask her ! 
 
 {She pulls her companion by the hand towards the 
 Gypsy, who sits looking in the Pool.) 
 
 Older Townsfolk : {Severally, shaking their heads.) 
 See the silly maids! 
 
336 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 Must have their fortunes told. Ha-ha! 
 
 {Still they themselves look on curiously as the girls 
 shyly approach the Gypsy.) 
 
 Come now, 
 Let 's look about, or rest a bit ! 
 
 Or find 
 A place to dance; this place is dull, 't is even awesome! 
 
 (To Gypsies.) 
 Ha, you gypsy folk, I thought 
 That you were always merry. 
 Gypsy : 
 
 Are we sad? 
 What would you have us do to show our mood? 
 
 Townsman : 
 Why here you perched among the greenery. 
 Silent and lazy, listening to a bird ! 
 Gypsy: Is there no joy in that? 
 The Youth: {To the Gyvsy .) Teach me his song 
 So I may play it on my pipe ! You know it ? 
 I listen; and I love it, too. {He talks aside to the 
 Gypsy.) 
 
 {The Young Girls timidly speak to the Gypsy 
 Mother.) 
 
 First Young Girl: Good Mother, 
 Say! — will riches come to me? 
 
 Mother Gypsy: 
 So long as the heart sings too, when the thrushes 
 Sing, — will riches be for you — 
 
 First Girl: {Echoing, puzzled.) 
 "So long as the heart sings, too — when the thrushes 
 
 sing? 
 And does that mean — ? Ah, me, — I hardly know — 
 
 Second Girl : And what for me shall be 
 
 The gifts the days shall bring? 
 
TKe Pool of Ans-wrers 337 
 
 Mother Gypsy: 
 Dawns, golden noons, and purple nights — 
 Each after each — ask them the gifts they bear; 
 Coronets or garlands — songs or tears, are theirs; 
 No others bear them. Ask, meet each, and ask ! 
 
 Second Girl: 
 "Dawns — golden noons — and purple nights — 
 Ask each the gift it brings ! Coronets or garlands — 
 Songs or tears; meet each — and ask!" 
 She puzzles me! 
 
 (Turning to other girl, while they both turn away.) 
 What told she you? 
 First Girl: I hardly know — 
 Riches — so long as my heart sings too, when the 
 
 thrushes sing! 
 And you? — She told you — ? 
 Second Girl: 
 
 Oh, not much. 
 It seems to me, I understand, or wanted plain to know ; 
 And still it haunts me, says its words again 
 O'er in my mind, as if it held an answer I must 
 
 learn : 
 ' ' Dawns — golden noons — and purple nights, — ask each 
 
 its gift—" 
 What do you make of that? 
 
 First Girl: (Shaking her head.) And you — of 
 mine? 
 
 (They turn aside talking softly together.) 
 A Townsman: (Stepping forward.) 
 The maids seem smihng with the mysteries 
 The Gypsy Queen has told them. Let me try! 
 
 (To Gypsy Queen.) 
 My luck 's been bad of late, good Mother Queen. 
 Tell me a way to find the golden road. 
 
338 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 (He approaches her half sheepishly but with a 
 jocular nonchalance.) 
 
 Mother Gypsy: 
 There where the silent pathway of the moon 
 Rims with its silver all the misty hills 
 Peace gathers largess. 
 Out of the golden showers of the sun 
 Over the waving billows of the grain 
 Joy moulds a key. — 
 
 To the Treasure House of Peace 
 
 The Key of Joy unlocks the quiet Door. 
 
 Townsman: Peace? Peace? 
 Good Mother, is that fortune? 
 
 Peace and Joy? — A search for silver on a misty hill? 
 A golden shower found amidst the grain? 
 What fairy tales and moonshine! I 'm repaid 
 For seeking fortunes like a silly maid! (Turning to 
 
 others.) 
 Friendsj let 's betake us somewhere where 't is gay ! 
 This gypsy creature strange and eldritch seems ; 
 As if I 'd had a dream, I 'm creepy grown ! 
 See how her eyes look wild and far away ! 
 
 Gypsies: (Severally, laughing among the trees.) 
 Ha-ha I They 're frightened at the fortunes ! Dull , — 
 They wonder at her talk of winds and birds, — 
 Of golden-footed hours and silver nights, 
 And wag their heads at what our Mother speaks! 
 Ha-ha, Ha-ha, Ha-ha! 
 (The Townsfolk huddle a little together and look 
 abashed.) 
 
 Townsfolk: (Severally.) 
 Hear now! 
 Odd creatures! 
 Let us go, — they jeer at us! 
 
THe Pool of A.zis'wers 339 
 
 Gypsies: {Good humour edly.) Nay, nay — don't 
 go — we meant no harm. So, stay ! 
 
 Romany Rye: 
 We go ourselves, and bring back stores ; so, stay ! 
 Share them with us, we '11 merry make, together ! 
 Come, we '11 go ! 
 
 {Singing, the Gypsies turn about among the trees, 
 in a dancing ronde preparatory to going.) 
 
 Gypsies: {Singing a bit mockingly, but good na- 
 turedly.) {Again suggestive of mazurka measures.) 
 Tra-la-la-lala-la-la ! 
 
 Oh, once there lived alone an ugly old man — 
 Ha ! — he had a bag of gold — 
 Ho! chained to his leg! Ho! tight to his leg! 
 A very good fortune the little bag could hold, — 
 But oh, the house was dark ; 
 Ugh ! — the house was cold ! 
 
 The roses never grew 
 
 And the birds flew by — 
 
 And it came the day for the man to die ; — 
 
 Ugh! the house was cold, and the weeds grew high! — 
 
 Then the mouse came and nibbled, and the rat and 
 
 gnawed — 
 And the passing vagrant to maraud — 
 And oh, on his ankle was left for a tag 
 To Fortune's country, the empty bag ! 
 
 Ho-ho, for the road, and the treasure of gold — 
 When the windows are dark and the house is cold 
 Ugh! — the house is cold! 
 Ha-ha! Ho-ho, ho-ho! 
 {All Gypsies run off through the trees, their laughter 
 blowing back.) 
 
340 
 
 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 {After a silence, in which the Townsfolk look 
 after Gypsy hand, with signs of some dismay, or 
 question.) 
 A Townsman: 
 I had thought gypsies were merry creattires — 
 But faith what a dreary song ! 
 A poor old man with an empty bag 
 Tied to his leg for a ghostly tag! 
 
 {He mops his forehead.) 
 Another Townsman: 
 When the poor old creature was dead and cold ! — 
 It gives me a fright to own any gold ! 
 
 {They all come down nearer front to Left and Right, 
 talking together. The Oreads come swaying out 
 from the trees at hack, unnoticed by the Towns- 
 folk, except for the Youth who asked the 
 Gypsy Man to teach him to play the birds' song, 
 and who has come out from the group and sat by 
 the Pool L. C. looking intently at the Mother 
 Gypsy. He of all the Townsfolk sees the 
 Oreads, and watches them fascinated. They 
 circle about in the rear, elusively, then down to 
 Mother Gypsy. She rises and chants.) 
 Mother Gypsy: 
 To those who ask will be shown the store — 
 Ye with eyes to see, there are runes in the clouds — 
 The waves weave songs that are all I tell — 
 Ceaseless and manifold, that aspire — 
 Knowledge is yours in the flame of a fire 
 
 — the flame of a fire! — 
 {She turns among the Oreads) 
 I bide my time — till my rune be read — till my rune be 
 read. 
 {Among the Oreads, dancing and weaving about 
 
The Pool of A.ns-wer8 341 
 
 her, and among the trees,' as before, she goes off 
 slowly. The Oreads' music accompanies softly. 
 (The Townsfolk pay no heed, except the Youth, 
 who rises, watching her disappear, walks to C. L. 
 rear of Pool, and stands, musing. The two 
 Young Girls also look up, at last, and a woman 
 or two, wonderingly, as if catching a flash of the 
 dreamy spectacle.) 
 First Girl: 
 I heard some music ! and I saw 
 Bright flashes in the trees. Flowers in the wind — 
 Or shadows — ? What? 
 
 Townsman: (To left of Stage.) Why — the strange 
 woman 's gone ! 
 {Looking up from taking cakes and bottle from a 
 basket.) 
 Others: Ay! — So she has! 
 Another: (Looking at Yovtk.) 
 Why, see the lad ! What 's come 
 To him? Here, help us now ! We '11 dance, and then 
 Refresh ourselves — Come, lad — ! 
 
 Another: Well, now, it seems 
 The place is not so eerie! Troth, the Gypsy Queen 
 Frighted me well! 
 
 Another: I had begun to think 
 The place enchanted ! 
 
 Another: Guessed you what things she meant 
 
 with her strange songs? 
 Another : 
 I take it, fairly mad she is! — But being their Queen 
 Still held in reverence; gypsy folk are loyal! 
 
 Another : 
 Those words she crooned I caught, and that strange 
 song 
 
342 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 They sang — the band of them — stick in my crop, — 
 Arid while it seemed not that they answered me, 
 They stick as if they 'd meaning ! 
 
 (All seat themselves and begin drinking and eating, 
 around the Pool. The Oreads laugh softly 
 among the trees; appear at the border of the grove, 
 then vanish again.) 
 
 A Townswoman: Faith, the place, I vow. 
 Is haunted! 
 Another: One might think 'twas magic here- 
 about ! 
 
 (Gypsies are creeping through the trees.) 
 Gypsy: {Without.) And if it were? 
 
 Townsfolk: {Starting.) What 's that? 
 Gypsies: {All together stealing softly through the 
 trees.) Ha-ha ! 
 
 {They emerge.) 
 Townsfolk: {Severally.) 
 Well, on my word! 
 The gypsy band again I 
 
 Gypsies: {Disposing themselves about, speaking 
 severally.) Yes, here 's good cheer we 've brought — 
 To share with you ! 
 
 {Deposit berries, loaves, and pails of milk.) 
 Townsfolk: {Severally.) Ah, then, how good ! 
 Why this is very merry! 
 Let 's sit about and fall to at our feast ! 
 
 {All settle about and begin passing things to each 
 other with gay words.) 
 Townsman: {To a Gypsy.) Now try this cake; 
 
 my good wife baked it ! 
 Gypsy: 
 
 So? 
 Well, you try this fresh cheese! 
 
The Fool of Ans-wers 343 
 
 Townsman: {To Romany Rye.) 
 
 A strange one, she, — 
 Your Queen! She speaks in puzzles. Why, of what 
 
 she spoke to me, 
 I made not head nor tail ! 
 
 Woman : 
 Then with mysterious words she trailed away! 
 I doubt me she is mad, eh, Romany? 
 
 First Young Girl: 
 I, the time she went. 
 
 Heard music ; not as mortals make it, but 
 As if it came — an inner song of the air! 
 What is she, Romany? 
 
 Second Girl: I, thinking of it now, 
 Know that bright fluttering elvish things among the 
 
 trees, 
 I saw, attendant on her. 
 
 Whence is she, Romany Rye? I, too, would know 
 The meaning of her words that haunt me still ! 
 
 {Dreamily.) 
 "Dawns, golden noons, — and purple nights, — with 
 
 gifts 
 All laden — " I 'm to find out what — 
 
 Old Townsman: 
 They 're all quite daffy, faith! 
 
 And see our lad there {pointing to youth who is still 
 abstracted in midst of the gay party) 
 
 — fey as any changeling 
 From too long gazing on your Gypsy Queen ! 
 Ho-ho! 
 A Young Woman: What meant she, Romany? 
 Our friends. 
 All puzzled, brood on what she 's told them. 
 Do vou exolain her words, and let us all 
 
344 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Be gay again, nor lost in too much thinking! 
 
 Romany Rye: Nay — now — 
 She is not mad, our Mother; only far 
 She sees, and has lived long beside her Pool of 
 
 Answers 
 Where she reads Earth's hidden words, 
 While from the open sky she hears 
 The secrets of immortal things. 
 
 A Woman : "A Pool of Answers ! ' ' — 
 "Hidden words of Earth" — and "secrets from the 
 
 sky!" 
 You speak, indeed, good Rye, things misty 
 As does she, — and our poor wits, but simple 
 As we are, are hardly able to unravel them! 
 Dear, dear {aside to another), are gypsies always 
 Mad? 
 Another Townswoman : An eerie place this is — 
 I told you so! 
 And eldritch people all, you '11 see! 
 Let 's go! {She shivers.) I fear we '11 all be rooted to 
 
 the spot, — 
 Enchanted, turned to trees, or what not, — 
 Yet! 
 A Young Girl: "A Pool of Answers!" Why, 
 that 's surely queer. 
 Alluring, too! How come its answers, 
 Romany? Do fairies rise and tell us 
 In soft words its mystic lore? or how, 
 Good Romany? 
 Romany Rye: {Smiling.) Nay, try and see! Our 
 Queen 's its only fairy ; 
 What she tells from it, it too will tell to you ! 
 Simple its answers ; to all those who '11 read ! 
 
 A Man: Simple, we hope, — 
 
TKe Pool of Ans-wers 345 
 
 Not awesome ! Dark, e'en mad it seemed, her speech ; 
 Yours not less so to me, — I do confess! 
 Such I want no more, 't is far too cloudy 
 For dull wits like mine ! 
 
 Rye : Mayhap, my man. 
 You 've never tried to polish them ! But try 
 The Pool, and see — if any of you, good friends, 
 Have riddles to be solved — what virtues are in it, 
 To read along its rim and in its depths. 
 Good woman, you for instance, is there an ill 
 You 'd fain know how to mend? Ask now the Pool, 
 Then look along its rim, or o'er its surface, 
 Or within its depths, and see what answer 
 It will bring to you. 
 
 Woman: You 're mocking me. 
 Good Rye! And yet — your look is grave — 
 
 Rye: And so 
 I am grave; if I smile, I wish you well. 
 So ask, or tell your trouble. 
 
 Woman: Foolish work! — 
 Still, for a jest ! Although my trouble 
 Is no jest ! Good Rye — 
 
 I have a dullard son ; naught with him can I do. 
 I scold; his father with a switch 
 Persuades him, too. All no avail. 
 There 's mine ! What says your Pool? {Incredulously.) 
 
 Rye : Goodwif e I — 
 Look where some rougher tide within the Pool 
 Urges its wavelets sharply on the shore, — 
 Naught grows, all 's bare; while where it laps up 
 
 gently. 
 Near the grasses bend, — the Uttle flowers wave, — 
 Reflected in it. 
 
 {He stops and looks smiling gently at the woman.) 
 
346 The Dramatic Festival 
 
 Woman : (Puzzled.) 
 Well, and what 's all that? 
 Does that speak to me of my dullard son? 
 
 Rye: 
 But use your wit! What 's gently treated, 
 Growing, returns you beauty ; what you 're rough with, 
 Rudeness will return. 
 
 GooDWiFE : (After a silence.) 
 Why, faith, I '11 think of that! 
 My poor unlucky son! 
 
 Rye: (To an old man.) 
 And you, , good sir, you see, the Pool 
 Gave one fair answer ! Will you try? 
 
 Old Man: (Wags Ms head.) Bah! 
 'T is your wit, not the Pool, good Rye. 
 Your shoulders carry quite a worthy pate! 
 
 Rye : But 't was the Pool, good master, gave me 
 signs! 
 
 Old Man: 
 'T is idle talk, for one so old as I, — 
 And I '11 not enter it. My life is full 
 Of troubles, — now soon o'er. They '11 trip me then 
 
 about my feet 
 No more! 
 
 Rye : Look now, good sir ! — 
 See, when you 're casting down your eyes to feetward 
 Ever, — there in the Pool the sky's reflection 's crossed 
 With wrinkles, dim. Look now, but up, — 
 And calm, serene there stays, the sky itself! 
 
 Old Man: 
 Ay, ay! Your pretty wit again, good Rye! 
 Nathless, I '11 think upon it. One does look 
 To feetward overmuch ! 
 
 (He muses, his chin on his cane.) 
 
TKe Pool of Ans-wers 347 
 
 A Woman {elderly, with careworn face.) : {Wist- 
 fully, to Rye.) 
 Good Rye, and if it be the Pool or not, your words I 
 
 see 
 Bring Peace. 
 
 Read me a rune! Care sits upon me; hours 
 Bring but fret to pay for toil, till life 
 Is heavy! What 's my lack, — or life's? Good Rye, 
 I like your hints, and pray to find a value! 
 
 Rye: {Looks at her musingly a moment before 
 speaking.) 
 Where yonder level leaves lie trustfully 
 Upon the water, — safe and smooth they stay. — 
 Look then, where stiff and stubborn reeds rear 
 
 up, 
 With them each passing wind must have its way ! 
 
 The Woman : {Her face smoothing, looks at him 
 wonderingly.) 
 
 Ah, wonderful, good Rye! I seem to feel 
 A light break in upon my troubled way! 
 "To trustfully upon the waters lie" — 
 Ah, thanks, good Rye! 
 
 {All stand at last awed a little by the interpretations 
 of the Rye, — the Woman looking at him with grate- 
 ful face.) 
 Two OR Three Townsfolk: {Severally.) 
 He brings to us the Mother Gypsy's words, — 
 But makes them clear! 
 
 'T is simple, too ! 
 Yes, 
 
 After all, I see ! 
 
 {The Oreads' soft singing is heard without.) 
 Youth : The Queen, — the lovely Queen is here ! 
 
 Girl : Again 
 
34^ The Dramatic Festival 
 
 That same strange music like an inner wind 
 
 Comes near ! 
 Second Girl: 
 
 Like rainbows through the trees, ah, elvishly — 
 
 I see sweet imps come dancing ! 
 
 Gypsy Queen: {Without, chanting.) 
 
 By the roadside is the golden key — 
 
 But stoop to find; — but ask, to see! 
 
 Life and Heaven sleep in a seed. 
 
 There are words in the winds for ears that hear! 
 
 By the roadside is the golden key. 
 
 {She is seen returning through the shadows of the 
 trees. About her the Oreads sway and swing- 
 She comes down only half-way to front, and re- 
 mains standing on terrace. Centre, up stage. As 
 she approaches, the Youth, involuntarily as it 
 seems, goes towards her, and stands near, listen- 
 ing. The rest of the groups fall back on either 
 side watching her and listening to her soft song, 
 the Townsfolk more respectfully than at first, 
 more awed, and less curious. The Young Girls 
 timidly edge forward nearer the Youth and the 
 Mother Gypsy than the rest seem to dare do. 
 The Mother Gypsy notes the Youth, who seems 
 so rapt, and holds out her hand to him. She 
 chants on, without looking at him, or at any one, 
 but before her and up, with distant gaze.) 
 Mother Gypsy: 
 
 Who silent beside her asks nothing ; 
 
 While the climbing sap shall whisper him; 
 
 Whose breath goes deep at the starling's trill. 
 
 He who smiles long at the talk of the winds, — 
 
 Whose eyes are alight at the song of the surge, 
 
 Whom the dawns teach the march of stars ; 
 
THe Pool of Ans-wers 349 
 
 The Mother Gypsy's face unriddles Time for him, — 
 Time that looms over the World. 
 
 {The Oreads dance in between the Mother Gypsy 
 and the Youth and the rest, obscuring her with 
 their grey-green veils. She recedes farther in the 
 dimness of the trees up Centre on the terrace. The 
 Stage grows dim from the changing final light 
 of sunset to shimmer of rising moonlight during 
 the remainder of the scene. The Townsfolk 
 stand silent, slightly puzzled and subdued a 
 moment, then begin to stir softly, and to gather 
 up their things to go, while they murmur together, 
 point, and appear wondering. The Gypsies 
 group recedes among the trees, so that the colours 
 of their garments glimmer and mingle with the 
 sunset colours falling among the greenery and 
 the trunks of the trees that here and there catch 
 the pink and purple and gold of the final light.) 
 A TowNSWOMAN : The Gypsy Queen it was who 
 
 stood there; saw you her? 
 Another : Mists and lights it seemed were 'round 
 
 her! 
 An Older Woman: You 're bewitched! 
 Young Woman: Shadows that danced, with mists 
 For scarves and garlands — there were, too! Or I 
 Was in a spell I 
 
 Older Woman: (Who has been attending to baskets 
 and so forth. Sceptically.) Ay, that you were ! 
 
 Another Woman: {Coming up.) Where 
 
 Are they gone, the gypsy band that but now lingered 
 Here? 
 
 {Looking about. The others look also.) 
 Others: {Severally.) 
 Gone! 
 
350 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Why so, — without a sound! 
 
 {A low laugh is heard from the woods.) 
 What 's that? 
 
 The place is strange! 
 
 But lovely, too! 
 Yet let 's away; the evening 's come! 
 
 The Young Woman: But now 
 
 The Gypsy Mother sang again her eerie songs! 
 Another: Where she came down the wood path 
 
 through the trees — 
 Another: 
 Singing his evensong, you heard the veery 
 In his flight ! We 've all turned daft, — or slept ! 
 
 {Picks up basket and turns to go, with incredulous 
 laugh.) 
 Another: {Noting the Youth.) Mark how the 
 lad dreams yet! Come, lad! 
 
 Another: He '11 foUow us. 
 Another: But the two maids; they're thralled 
 as well! 
 {They trail off the scene, more of them. The Gyp- 
 sies, /a?- off without, are heard singing snatches 
 of their entrance song:) 
 Gypsies: What in the rift of the trees goes flashing 
 by? 
 See! up from the South — a harrow of birds! — [etc.] 
 A Townswoman: Now, 'sh! again there's some- 
 thing! 
 Another: 'Tis the gypsies, faith! They're real 
 
 enough ! 
 Elder Townsman.-- {Super stitiously.) Uncanny 
 
 good-for-naughts ! Nay, witchcraft 's here ! 
 The Careworn Woman: But peace! {Turns to 
 look back at the Pool gratefully.) 
 
THe Fool of Ans-wers 351 
 
 Not like the stubborn reeds to bend and break — 
 But trustfully upon the waters lie ! (Goes.) 
 
 Woman who had the Dullard Son: (Looking 
 at wavelets about the Pool, and plucking a flower.) 
 Where lap the wavelets gently, beauty you return! 
 (Apostrophising the flower.) ' 
 
 (Exit.) 
 Old Man: (Reflectively, pausing by brink of Fool.) 
 A simple pool, in the familiar wood, — 
 To turn me from the troubled earth, to sky ! 
 
 (Hobbles off.) 
 (The Townsfolk now have gradually all gone off 
 through the woods again whence they came, all but 
 the two Young Girls, who linger by the edges 
 of the trees, near the front entrance, hand in 
 hand, and the youth. The Gypsies are heard 
 again distantly without:) 
 Gypsies: Tra-la-la-lala-la-lal Oh, now don't you 
 hear 
 Soft! — out of the woods — 
 Hark! the robins' trill! (etc., as at first entrance). 
 
 (The Young Girls listen, watching where the 
 Youth stands, and where the Mother Gypsy 
 and the Oreads appeared at first.) 
 First Young Girl: Hark! Is it evening birds? 
 (The distant pipe, and long sweet notes of robins 
 and starlings are heard.) 
 Second Young Girl: The gypsies! — The birds 
 
 are answering them. 
 First Young Girl: 
 Perhaps we 're dreaming this! (Musing.) She said to 
 
 me 
 Riches were mine so long as the thrushes' song 
 My heart sang, too ! I have no riches, now. 
 
352 TKe Dramatic Festival 
 
 Yet I am glad, and wish no other thing 
 
 At hearing them! 
 Second Young Girl: 
 
 Noons, purple nights, and dawns, would bring me 
 gifts— 
 
 The Gypsy told to me. My hands hold naught ; 
 
 Yet at this dusky hour, within this gypsy wood 
 
 With lovely things I see and hear, — I feel o'erladen ! 
 {A bird trills, the Young Girls wait, listening. 
 Young frogs softly pipe. The Oreads, who have 
 paused among the trees, dance out and down about 
 the stage, but hover up towards terrace most of the 
 time, keeping themselves confused with the shad- 
 ows of the trees. They throw their veils about the 
 Youth, and brush the Young Girls with the 
 edges of them. The Gypsy Mother sings again, 
 and appears mistily among the trees up stage, 
 not approaching but remaining far in the back- 
 ground. Her form is veiled and undefined, shim- 
 mering like a stream of moonlight mist.) 
 Gypsy Mother: {Chanting.) 
 
 Ye with eyes to see, there are runes in the clouds — 
 
 The flowers tattle you all I tell — 
 
 Life and Heaven sleep in a seed — 
 
 Through the birds' call runs your heart's desire — 
 
 Your hearts' desire — 
 
 {Her voice dies away as if it were the wind. 
 The Youth stands leaning against a tree at foot 
 of terrace looking up and listening to the Mother 
 Gypsy's voice. The Oreads sink among the tree 
 trunks, merely holding out their scarves and veils 
 to seem like mist among the shadows at the foot of 
 the terrace. The Young Girls hold their tableau. 
 The Mother Gypsy's form becomes more dim 
 
THe Pool of A.ns-wers 353 
 
 and misty in lessened light; the Oreads' veils 
 flicker softly like lights and shadows of leaves 
 blown in soft winds. The pipe of the young frogs 
 is heard again. The wood at length seems only 
 bathed in moonlight, and silent, but for the sounds 
 of spring about.) 
 
 Curtain. {End of Play.) 
 
 (FINAL ACTION IF PLAY IS IN OUT-OF-DOORS SET- 
 TING WITHOUT ARTIFICIAL SCENE STRUCTURE, 
 SO THAT GENERAL EXODUS OF PLAYERS IS 
 NECESSARY.) 
 
 {As Mother Gypsy finally recedes, with Oreads, 
 
 the Youth comes down slowly to Young Girls.) 
 
 First Young Girl: {Softly and awed.) Whj', 
 
 now there 's but the moonlight and the frogs ! 
 Second Young Girl: You 're dreaming, sister, 
 
 too! 
 Youth : Nay, not a dream ! 
 
 (Oreads are heard singing softly again, off:) 
 Hear now, the while we go. 
 
 {With the Youth the two Young Girls turn to go 
 off along the road the other Townsfolk have 
 already taken, but they all three go slowly, 
 lingering.) 
 First Young Girl: {Listening, too, to Oreads.) 
 Hsh! Hear how sweet. You sing it too, good Youth! 
 Second Young Girl: To keep it for us so. 
 Youth : Ah ! if I might. 
 Oreads: {Without, softly.) 
 In the birds' call is the heart's desire — the heart's 
 desire — 
 Youth: {Singing softly.) 
 
354 THe Dramatic Festival 
 
 — the heart's desire; in the birds' call is the heart's 
 desire — 
 The Two Young Girls: 
 
 (Singing after him, the same refrain) 
 In the birds' call is the heart's desire — 
 
 {They make their exeunt now along the road. No- 
 thing but the wood sounds are heard, imitated 
 and carried softly by instruments, — string and 
 wind only.) 
 
ADDITIONAL REFERENCES 
 
 RECENT AND ESPECIALLY VALUABLE FESTIVAL MATERIAL 
 AND RELATED MATTER 
 
 The Festival Booh. Percival Chubb. Harper & Bros. 
 Folk Festivals: Their Origin and how to Give Them. Mary 
 Master Needham. B. W. Huebsch. 
 
 Education through Music. Charles H. Farnsworth. American 
 Book Co. 
 
 Patriotic Plays and Pageants. Constance D'Arcy Mackaye. 
 Henry Hoh & Co. 
 
 The Campfire Book. (The Campfire Girls Manual.) Double- 
 day, Page & Co. 
 
 Periodicals publishing festival material: 
 
 Atlantic Educational Journal, Baltimore, Md. 
 Educational Foundations. Ives & Butler, New York. 
 The Playground. Russell Sage Foundation. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Administration of festival 
 department, special points 
 regarding, 12-13 
 
 Advantages of festival depart- 
 ment enumerated, 13-14-15 
 
 Adventure, in history, as festi- 
 val material, 138 
 
 Alfred, whole works of, cited, 
 1 85 
 
 Esthetic sensibility, awaken- 
 ing of, 73 et seq. 
 
 /Esthetic development, adap- 
 tation of material and forms 
 to child's, 126 et seg^. 
 
 Esthetic faculties, focusing of, 
 
 31 
 
 Esthetics, special department 
 for, in education, iii 
 
 ^sop. Fables of, used in school, 
 6 
 
 Allegory, uses of, in school 
 drama, 178 et seq. 
 
 America, Bibliography for, 52 
 
 Ancient Civilizations, Biblio- 
 graphy for, 60 
 
 Anglo-Saxons, Bibliography for 
 England, 54 
 
 Arabia, Bibliography for, 60 
 
 Art, Bibliography for Hist, of, 
 63 ; inspirational function of, 
 Introd. Pt. I, xiv. 
 
 Art Crafts, Bibliography for, 
 64 
 
 Archasological books, reasons 
 for including, 21 
 
 Arctic Regions, Bibliography 
 for, 62 
 
 Arthurian cycle, cited as festi- 
 val material, 181 
 
 Arts : Puritan influence on, In- 
 trod. Pt. I, xii; place of in 
 modem educ, Introd. Pt. I 
 xiv, xxi; culture in, aided 
 by festival department, 13, 
 14; enumeration of, advanta- 
 geously used in festival de- 
 partment in school regime, 
 34; benefits of study of folk, 
 127 e< seq.; of ancient folk- 
 groups, 155 and occupations 
 of women in ancient folk- 
 groups, 156; study of, in con- 
 nection with history, 258. 
 See also, Folk-Arts. 
 
 As You Like It, example of 
 bucolic drama, 270 
 
 Austria, Bibliography for, 58 
 
 Babylonia, Bibliography for 
 (see Ancient Civilizations), 
 60 
 
 Ballads, as material for festi- 
 vals, 14 et seq. 
 
 Bards, Irish, 166-167 
 
 Bas Breton, Legends of the, 
 186 
 
 Basketry, Bibliography for, 64 
 
 Belgium, Bibliography for, 57 
 
 Beowulf, cited as material, 185 
 
 Bibliography for Teachers, 52 ; 
 arrangement of discussed, 
 18; reasons for classification 
 of, 279 
 
 Bilpai, Fables of, 6 
 
 Border Country of England, 
 Bibliography for, 55 
 
 Bran, Extract from Voyage of, 
 160-162 
 
 357 
 
358 
 
 Index 
 
 Breton Legends, as material, 
 
 i8i 
 Brynhild, Embroidery of , 172 
 Byzantium, Bibliography for, 
 
 59i6o 
 
 Carpentry, for scenery, 25, 26, 
 27 
 
 Carving, Wood-Bibliography 
 for, 65 
 
 Celebration, Historical devel- 
 opment of forms of, 127 
 
 Celtigue, Revue, cited, 186 
 
 Celts, Bibliography relative to, 
 54; lore of, as folk-study, 
 141 et seg,. 
 
 Chaldsea, Bibliography _ for 
 {see Ancient Civilizations), 
 60 
 
 Character play, 259 
 
 Charlemagne cycle, as material, 
 181 
 
 Charts for play-production, 
 Examples of, 82 ; Append. I, 
 91 e/ seg^. 
 
 Cid, The, as material, 181 
 
 Classes, Materials for ad- 
 vanced, 11-12 
 
 Classics, Forms of ancient, as 
 suggestion for school drama, 
 187-188; uses of, in prepara- 
 tory period, 258 
 
 Class work. Model hour for, 9- 
 10 
 
 Colonial Days, Bibliography 
 for, 53 
 
 Color, in ancient crafts, 156 
 
 Costumes for school festivals, 
 
 24 
 Costuming, Suggestions for, 
 
 195 
 
 Comedy of Art, 260; character 
 
 types of, 266; scenarios of, 
 
 267 et seq. 
 Commerce, History of, as 
 
 material, 141 
 Composition of stage pictures 30 
 Composition of art forms. 
 
 Dramatic department as 
 
 spur to, 43-44 
 
 Comus, John Milton's {see 
 Pastoral materials), 274 
 
 Constantinople, (see Biblio- 
 graphy for Asia Minor), 60 
 
 Constructive power, Peda- 
 gogical development of, 49- 
 50 
 
 Cred6, House of, 146-147; 
 Lament of, 167 
 
 Crafts, Practice in, in festivals 
 department, 13-14, 34; 
 enumeration of, advanta- 
 geously used in festival pre- 
 paration, 29; of ancient 
 folk-groups, 155 
 
 Criticism: Unwise, of students, 
 
 34. 35. 37 
 Critics, Pupils as, 29, 33 
 Crusades, (see Bibliography 
 
 for Holy Rom. Empire), 57 
 Curtin, Jeremiah, (see Biblio- 
 graphy for Slavs in Europe) , 
 58. Also, 186 
 
 Dance: Place and uses in 
 school, 1-2 ; primitive devel- 
 opment of, 15; Greek 15- 
 16; spontaneous invention of 
 15-16; asa physical gymnas- 
 tic, 35; as rudimentary dra- 
 matic form, 74 et seq. 
 
 Dances: With relation to groups 
 in scene composition, 32, 35; 
 benefits of folk-dance, 36; as 
 festival material, 74 et seq.; 
 bibliography for folk-dances, 
 66 
 
 Design: Significance of, among 
 folk-groups, 157 
 
 Discipline: True and artificial, 
 
 37 
 Drama: Modern interest in, 
 Introd. Pt. I, xiii; as normal 
 employment of emotional 
 tendencies, Introd. Pt. I, 
 xii; bibliography, for litera- 
 ture of, 63; points regarding 
 application of, in schools, 68 ; 
 forms of, applicable to latter 
 half intermediate period of 
 
Index 
 
 359 
 
 Drama — Continued 
 
 school work, i86 et seq.; 
 historic forms of, 256 et seq.; 
 historic material for direct 
 illustration of development 
 of, 258 et seq. 
 
 Dramatic culture, Values of, 
 Introd. Pt. I, xvii, xviii; 
 88-89 
 
 Dramatic element in school. 
 Uses of, 2-3-5 ; as illustration 
 especially, of history, geog- 
 raphy and folk-study, 5 
 
 Dramatic experiment in 
 schools. Dangers of, Introd. 
 Pt. I, X, xi; 68, 75, 88 
 
 Drawing: Japanese method of 
 teaching children, 78 
 
 Drayton: Michasl Muses Ely- 
 sium by, cited as material, 
 274 
 
 Dutch in America, Biblio- 
 graphy for, 53; in Africa, 62. 
 See also Holland. 
 
 Dwellings of ancient folk- 
 groups, 170 
 
 Dyeing: Bibliography for craft 
 of. (Crafts and Fine Arts), 
 65 
 
 Education: "New Humanism" 
 in, vii, X, Part I; joyous 
 activity motive power in vi. 
 Foreword, Pt. I; aim of 
 modem departures in, 51 
 
 Egypt, Bibliography for, 60 
 
 Elysium, Irish, 159, ft. note, et 
 seq. 
 
 Embroidery, Bibliography for, 
 64 
 
 England: Border Countries in, 
 55 ; Normans in, 55 
 
 English in America, biblio- 
 graphy for, 53; Bibliography 
 of, origins, 54 
 
 Eskimo, Bibliography for, 62 
 
 Ethical Culture School, festi- 
 vals of, cited, 176; scheme 
 of festival preparation, at 
 281 
 
 Exploration in history, as 
 material, 138 
 
 Expression: Man's develop- 
 ment of forms of, 127 
 
 Fairy Tales, Theory of use of, 
 as material of culture, 79 et 
 seq. 
 
 Faiths, religious, among ancient 
 folk-groups. Place for dis- 
 cussion of, 158 
 
 Feasts, in ancient Ireland, 143, 
 150, 151 
 
 Festivals: Department of, at 
 Madison, xxv, Part I; Fes- 
 tival Society, xxv, Part I; 
 basic plans for department 
 of in schools, discussed, 68, 
 73 ; informal, in school rooms, 
 81 et seq.; high order of 
 themes for, 175 et seq.; un- 
 ity in school organization 
 necessary to valuable work 
 in production of, 283 
 
 FStes: Forms of, in Middle 
 Ages, 264 
 
 Feudal Period, Bibliography 
 for, 55 
 
 Finnesburg, Battle of, cited as 
 material, 186 
 
 Folk-arts: Correlation of infor- 
 mation concerning, with his- 
 tory and literature, 137 
 
 Folk-customs: Benefit of study 
 of, 127 et seq.; correlation of 
 information concerning, with 
 history and lit. study, 137 
 
 Folk-groups: Methods of deal- 
 ing with, in study, 135 
 
 Folk-group method of pre- 
 senting festival material, 137 ; 
 advantages of, 137 
 
 Folk-lore: for older classes, 11; 
 for intermediate, 70 
 
 Folk-music: Method of study- 
 ing, ft. note, 165 
 
 Folk-tales: Materials cited, 82- 
 83; as applicable to inter- 
 mediate school period, 126 
 
 Fontaine, la, Fables of, cited, 7 
 
36o 
 
 Index 
 
 France, relations of, with Spain 
 in Middle Ages, Bibliography 
 for, 56 
 
 Franks, (See Bibliography for 
 Teutons), 56 
 
 French in America, Biblio- 
 graphy for, 53 
 
 Games, 4; spontaneous inven- 
 tion of, 15-16; child's expres- 
 sion in, 72 et seq.; as mate- 
 rial for festivals, 74 et seq. 
 
 Gay, John, humorous eclogs of, 
 cited, 275 
 
 Genre play {cf. Folk-plays), 259 
 
 Geographical progression in 
 folk-study, 7, 8,9 
 
 Geography, plays as help to 
 study of, 43 
 
 Gild-Plays in Middle Ages, 
 260 
 
 Goethe's Puppen Theater, 
 Introd. Pt. I. xi 
 
 Goths, Bibliography for (see 
 Teutons), 56 
 
 Greece, Bibliography for, 59; 
 place of material from myth 
 and history of, in school fes- 
 tivals, 180 
 
 Greeks: Need of emulating 
 spirit of, ix, Pt. I, Foreword 
 
 Groups, management of, on 
 stage, 31, 37 _ 
 
 Gudrun, embroidery of, 172 
 
 Gymnastics, artificial, 32, 35, 
 36; remedial use of, 32, 35 
 
 Gypsies, The, Ben Jonson's, 
 [see Pastorals as material) 
 274 
 
 Gypsies, Bibliography for, 61 
 
 Hapsburg, House of. Biblio- 
 graphy for (see Austria, 
 Hungary) 58 
 Harp, Irish, myth of, 167-168 
 Hawaii, Bibliography for, 62 
 HUdebrand, Song of, cited, 186 
 Historians, Values of great, 19 
 Historical progressions in folk 
 study, 7-8-9 
 
 History, School plays as illus- 
 trative of, 43 ; as material for 
 festival department, 70, 126; 
 in intermediate period of 
 school, 128 et seq.; forms of 
 stories in dramatic use, 136; 
 interrelation of periods of 
 in advised plan of study, 
 182 et seq.; period of special- 
 izing in, 257 et seq.; treat- 
 ment of ancient, 258 
 Holland, Bibliography for, 57 
 Hospitality, Ancient, 171 
 Hostelries, Ancient Irish, 148 
 Huguenots, Bibliography for, 53 
 Hutchinson, M. F., Outdoor 
 Masques by, 125 
 
 Improvisation in festival work, 
 82; natural merits of chil- 
 dren's, 86 et seq. 
 
 India, Bibliography for, 61 
 
 Indians: American, pottery, 
 basketry, weaving of, 129 
 et seq.; book references to, 
 129 et seq.; Peace feasts of, 
 132; Aztec, 133 et seq. 
 (See also Bibliography for 
 America.) 
 
 Intermediate period: Forms 
 and materials appropriate 
 for, 136 et seq. 
 
 Ireland, Description of heroes 
 of Ancient, 145; houses 
 in Ancient, 151 et seq.; 
 Folk-music of, 165 
 
 Irish, Lyricism of the, 165; 
 bards of the ancient, 166 
 
 Italy, Bibliography for, 57 
 
 Japan, Bibliography for, 62 
 Jenghis Khan, Bibliography 
 
 for, 61 
 Jews, Bibliography for, 60 
 Jonson,Ben (See Sad Shepherd) 
 
 Kalevala as material in festival 
 
 study, cited, 181 
 King, retinue of ancient Irish, 
 
 149-150 
 
Index 
 
 361 
 
 Language, practice in beauty 
 
 of. 34-35 
 
 Languages: foreign, used in 
 primary period's work, 7 
 
 Lines, originating and learning 
 of, for plays, 24, 25 
 
 Literature for older classes, 1 1 ; 
 school plays as illustrative 
 of, 43; as material for fes- 
 tival department, 70 
 
 Liturgical drama, 259; analysis 
 of structure of, 261 
 
 Lyric arts, need of culture in 
 iii, et seq. Foreword, Part I; 
 Introd. Pt. L, xii; cultural 
 values of, and uses of, in il- 
 lustrative festival work: pp: 
 xxiii. Author's Preface, 
 Parti, 3,37, 188 
 
 ' Nibelungen Lied, cited as 
 material, 181 
 Normans, Bibliography for, 55- 
 56 
 
 Oonagh, Song of, 163-164 
 Original work. Values of, 49, 51 
 
 Pageantry, modern growth of, 
 
 Introd. Pt. I, xiii 
 Pageants in Middle Ages, 260 
 Palace, Ancient Irish, 148-149 
 Pantomime, in children's cul- 
 ture, 2-4; animal, 131; as 
 elementary dramatic form, 
 
 136 
 
 Pastorals, adaptation of, to 
 school uses, 269 et seq.; char- 
 acteristics of, 269 et seq.; 
 reference material for, cited, 
 273 et seq. 
 
 Patie and Roger. See Pastoral 
 materials, 275 
 
 Peace feasts of Red Indians, 
 132 
 
 Persia, Bibliography for, 60-61 
 
 Perspective, Stage, 153-154 
 
 Pictures, Stage, 30 
 
 Pilgrims, Bibliography for, 53 
 
 Piscatory eclog, cited, 275 
 
 play, effects of, i 
 
 Play forms, development of, in 
 Middle Ages, 265 
 
 Plays, Folk-, class method of 
 preparing, 39-42 ; as illustra- 
 tive of folk-lore, 43; ready 
 made, 44 
 
 Poland, (See Bibliography for 
 Slavs in Europe), 58 
 
 Primary classes, methods with, 
 75 et seq. 
 
 Properties, Stage, 21, 23, 24, 
 29; made by pupils, 38; sug- 
 gestions for obtaining, 195 
 
 Psychology: relation of selec- 
 tion of materials of study to 
 of students' development, 
 275, 278 
 
 Purchas's Pilgrims excerpt 
 from, 133 
 
 Puritan influence on arts, 
 Introd. Pt. I, xii 
 
 R's, Three, need of more than, 
 in modern educ, vii. Fore- 
 word, Pt. I. 
 
 Religions, place for discussion 
 of ancient (See also Faiths), 
 174 et seq. 
 
 Renaissance: Dramatic forms 
 of, as suggestive for school 
 uses, 187-188; treatment of 
 periods leading to, 257; 
 place of dramatic and poetic 
 compositions of, in school, 
 work, 276 
 
 Reynard the Fox, cited as 
 material, 6-7 
 
 Ritual, Man's development of 
 forms of, 127 
 
 Roman Empire, Holy, Biblio- 
 graphy for, 57 
 
 Romance of history. Uses of 
 study of, 138 
 
 Rome: Ancient, Bibliography 
 for, 59; place of material 
 from history and myth of, 
 180 
 
 Room, Special, for Festival 
 Department, 25 
 
362 
 
 Index 
 
 Russia, Myth and epics of, as 
 material, i8i ; Varangians in, 
 1 86 
 
 Sad Shepherd, Ben Jonson's 
 
 {See Pastorals), 272-274 
 Sand, M., Masques el Bouffons, 
 
 by, cited, 267 
 Sannazzaro, eclogs of, cited, 
 
 273, 275; Outline of the 
 
 " Arcadia" by, Appendix III, 
 
 325-6 
 Scandinavia, Myth, of (see 
 
 Bibliography for Teutons), 
 
 56 
 Scenery, making of, for school 
 
 plays, 23-24-26; designs for, 
 
 26; painting of, 27 
 Scathach, Description of 
 
 House of, 146 
 Scenic effects. Suggestions for, 
 
 195 
 
 School rooms. Informal festi- 
 vals in, 8l et seq., (see 
 Festivals) 
 
 Scotland, Bibliography for, 55 
 
 Self-consciousness, Methods of 
 obviating, in young pupils, 
 44-48 
 
 Ships, among ancient Teutons, 
 
 173 
 
 Singing, as earlier step to 
 dramatic forms, 136 
 
 Slavs in Europe, Bibliography 
 for, 58 
 
 Spain, Bibliography for, 56; 
 bibliography for relations 
 of with France in Mid- 
 dle Ages, 56; arts and 
 crafts of, bibliography for, 
 
 65 
 
 Spanish in America, Biblio- 
 graphy for, 52 
 
 Spontaneity {see also Greek 
 Dance), 49 
 
 Song, Place and uses of, in 
 school, 2 
 
 Songs, Spontaneous invention 
 of, 15-16, 78; in school 
 
 drama, 31; folk-songs, bib- 
 liography for, 65; school, 
 bibliography for, 66; as 
 material, 74 et seq. 
 
 Structure: Development of 
 dramatic, 84 et seq.; degrees 
 of elaboration in, 187 et 
 seq. 
 
 Syllabus, suggestion of pri- 
 mary, for Festival Depart- 
 ment, 7, 8 
 
 Switzerland, Bibliography for, 
 58 
 
 Syria, Bibliography for, 60, 
 61 
 
 Teutons, Bibliography for, 56; 
 as folk-study, 141 et seq.; 
 dwellings of 170 et seq.; 
 hospitality of ancient, 171; 
 occupations of women of 
 ancient, 172 
 
 Theatre, Bibliography for his- 
 tory of {see Drama), 63 
 
 Theocritus, {see Pastorals), 
 
 275 
 
 Timur (Tamerlane) Biblio- 
 graphy for, 61 
 
 Towneley Mysteries, Sugges- 
 tion of holiday play from, 
 90-91, Ap. I. 
 
 Trades, correlation of infor- 
 mation concerning, with his- 
 tory and literature study, 
 
 137 
 Traveller's Song, cited, 185 
 Tuatha de Danaan, harp of, 
 
 168 
 
 Utensils among ancient Teu- 
 tons, 172-173 
 
 Varangians in Russia, cited, 
 
 186 
 Vikings, description of heroes 
 
 of, 144-145 
 
Index 
 
 363 
 
 Voice: Benefit to, in school 
 drama, 31 
 
 Voluspa, cited 186, 
 
 War, in history study, 138-139; 
 teaching of sentiments con- 
 cerning, 139 et seq. 
 
 Wessex, John, Out-door mas- 
 ques by, cited, 125 
 
 Women's arts and occupations 
 among ancient folk-groups, 
 172 
 
Dramas of Importance 
 
 Plays 
 
 The Silver Box— Joy— Strife 
 By John Galsworthy 
 
 Author of " The Country House," etc. 
 Crown 8vo. $ 1 .35 net 
 
 " By common consent, London has witnessed this week 
 a play of serious importance, not approached by any other 
 book or drama of the season, John Galsworthy's ' The 
 Strife.' It is regarded not merely as a remarkable social 
 document of significance, but as a creation which, while of 
 the most modern realism, is yet classic in its pronounced 
 art and exalted philosophy. The play shows the types, of 
 the strongest men as victims of comical events and of 
 weaker men. It will be produced in America, where, on 
 account of its realistic treatment of the subject of labor 
 union, it is sure to be a sensation." — Special cable dispatch 
 to N. Y. Times. 
 
 The Nun of Kent orla 
 
 By Grace Denio Litchfield 
 
 Author of "Baldur the Beautiful," etc. 
 Crown Svo. $ 1 .00 net 
 
 " In this drama the pure essentials of dramatic writing 
 are rarely blended. .... The foundation for the stirring 
 play is a pathetic episode given in Froude's Henry VIII. . . . 
 
 " The lines of the poem, while fuU of thought, are also 
 characterized by fervor and beauty. The strength of the 
 play is centred upon a few characters. . . _, ' The Nun 
 of Kent' may be described as a fascinating dramatic 
 story." — Baltimore News. 
 
 Yzdra 
 
 A Tragedy in Three Acts 
 
 By Louis V. Ledoux 
 
 Crown Svo. Cloth. $1.25 net 
 
 " There are both grace and strength in this drama and 
 it also possesses the movement and spirit needed for pres- 
 entation upon the stage. Some of the figures used are 
 striking and beautifulj quite free from excess, and some- 
 times almost austere_ in their restraint. The characters 
 are clearly individualized and a just balance is preserved 
 in the action." — The Outlook, New York. 
 
 New York G. P. Putnam's SonS London 
 
Plays of Moliere 
 
 Translated by 
 
 Curtis Hidden Page 
 
 Late Professor of Romance Languages and Literatures 
 in Columbia University 
 
 4 volumes. Cr, 800. Each, $I.OO net 
 By mail, $I.IO 
 
 Les Precieuses Ridicules 
 
 (The Affected Misses) 
 
 Le Medecin malgre Lui 
 
 (The Doctor by Compulsion) 
 
 The above two volumes in one 
 
 The Affected Misses (Les Precieuses Ridicules), while 
 lashing the arrogance and folly and artificial enthusiasm 
 for learning of the salons, has all the vivacity, abandon, 
 and spontaneity of Molifere's early plays. The resource- 
 ful valets, impersonating people of station and imposing 
 upon the affected ladies, can claim an ancestry stretching 
 back through the Italian comedy of masks to the slaves 
 of Latin comedy. But Moliere, creative genius that he 
 was, infused vitality into the traditional type in this 
 drama, raising farce to the dignity of comedy. The 
 Doctor by Compulsion is a rollicking comedy, in which the 
 dramatist singled out for satire a profession that is still 
 the recipient of occasional gibes — that of the doctor. 
 
 Tartuffe 
 
 or 
 
 The Hypocrite 
 
 Into this play Molifere put more of his inner conviction 
 than into any other play that came from his pen, and it 
 will remain the enduring example of the successful depic- 
 tion of hypocrisy in its most odious form. The play was 
 produced after persistent protest from members of the 
 clergy, who feared the effect of this exposure of greed and 
 sensuality posing as sanctity. 
 
 New York G. P. Putnam's Sons London 
 
Plays of Moliere 
 
 Translated by 
 
 Curtis Hidden Page 
 
 Late Professor of Romance Languages and Literatures 
 in Columbia University 
 
 4 volumes. Cr. Svo. Each, $I.OO net 
 By mail, $I.IO 
 
 Les Femmes Savantes 
 
 (The Learned Ladies) 
 
 The Learned, Ladies, under which title Curtis Hidden 
 Page's masterly translation of Molifere's " Les Fernmes 
 Savantes " is published, is a more matured dramatic satire 
 than " Les Pr&ieuses Ridicules," its predecessor. The 
 intellectual tone of the French salons has degenerated into 
 mere affectation under the poorly qualified imitators of 
 the H6tel de RambouiUet. There was a pretension of 
 learning, an artificiality of language, an absence of good 
 sense that must have been profoundly irritating to one so 
 free from affectation as the great genius of French comedy. 
 Such a condition of things Molifere presents in this master- 
 piece, though arrayed against it are the sober forces of 
 common-sense and sincerity, which in the end triumph. 
 
 Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme 
 
 (The Tradesman Turned Gentleman) 
 
 This play, produced in the maturity of Molifere's dra- 
 matic power, is a lesson of good sense to those who suffer 
 from the social ambition of rising above their proper rank. 
 The satire is more developed and brilliant than in Georges 
 Dandin, which preceded it. 
 
 New York G. P. Putnam*S Sons London 
 
IRISH FOLK PLAYS 
 
 By 
 LADY GREGORY 
 
 First Series. The Tragedies 
 GRAMA KINCORA DERVORGILLA 
 
 Second Series. The Tragic Comedies 
 
 THE CANAVANS THE WHITE COCKADE 
 
 THE DELIVERER 
 
 2 uots. Each, $I.SO net. By mail, $1.65 
 
 Lady Gregory has preferred going for her material to the tra- 
 ditional folk-history rather than to the authorized printed versions, 
 and she has been able, in so doing, to make her plays more living. 
 One of these, Kincora, telling of Brian Born, who reigned in the 
 year looo, evoked such keen local interest that an old farmer 
 travelled from the neighborhood of Kincora to see it acted in 
 Dublin. 
 
 The story of Grania, on which Lady Gregory has founded one 
 of these plays, was taken entirely from tradition. Grania was a 
 beautiful young woman and was to have been married to Finn, the 
 great leader of the Fenians; but before the marriage, she went 
 away from the bridegroom with his handsome young kinsman, 
 Diarmuid. After many years, when Diarmuid had died (and Finn 
 had a hand in his death), she went back to Finn and became his 
 queen. 
 
 Another of Lady Gregory's plays. The Canavans dealt with 
 the stormy times of Queen Elizabeth, whose memory is a horror in 
 Ireland second only to that of Cromwell. 
 
 The White Cockade is founded on a tradition of King James 
 having escaped from Ireland after the battle of the Boyne in a wine 
 barrel. 
 
 The choice of folk history rather than written history gives a 
 freshness of treatment and elasticity of material which made the 
 late J. M. Synge say that " Lady Gregory's method had brought 
 back the possibility of writing historic plays." 
 
 All these plays, except Grania, which has not yet been staged, 
 have been very successfully performed in Ireland. They are written 
 in the dialect of Kiltartan, which had already become familiar to 
 readers of Lady Gregory's books. 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 NEW YORK LONDON 
 
m 
 
 1