(^^^ . :s^^ Class ?L&3-v5^_^ Book, 9 30 GEORGE WASHINGTON A Dramatic Action BY PERCY MACKAYE SCENE DESIGN BY ROBERT EDMOND JONES NOTE ON PRODUCTION BY WALTER HAMPDEN THE GEORGE WASHINGTON MEMORIAL ASSOCIATION WASHINGTON, D. C. GEORGE WASHINGTON WORKS BY PERCY MACKAYE PLAYS The Canterbury Pilgrims. A Comedy. Jeanne d'Arc. A Tragedy. Sappho and Phaon. A Tragedy. Fenris, the Wolf. A Tragedy. A Garland to Sylvia. A Dramatic Reverie. The Scarecrow. A Tragedy of the Ludicrous. Yankee Fantasies. Five One-Act Plays. Mater. An American Study in Comedy. Anti-Matrimony. A Satirical Comedy. To-MORROW. A Play in Three Acts. A Thousand Years Ago. A Romance of the Orient. Washington. A Ballad Play. COMMUNITY Caliban. A Community Masque. DRAMAS Saint Louis. A Civic Masque. Sanctuary. A Bird Masque. The New Citizenship. A Civic Ritual. The Evergreen Tree. A Christmas Masque. The Roll Call. A Masque of the Red Cross. The Will of Song (with Harry Barnhart). OPERAS Sinbad, the Sailor. A Fantasy. The Lmmigrants. A Tragedy. The Canterbury Pilgrims. A Comedy. Rip Van Winkle. A Legend. POEMS The Sistine Eve, and Other Poems. Uriel, and Other Poems. Lincoln. A Centenary Ode. The Present Hour. Poems of War and Peace. Poems and Plays. In Two Volumes. ESSAYS The Playhouse and the Play. The Civic Theatre. A Substitute for War. Community Drama. An Interpretation. ALSO {As Editor) The Canterbury Tales. A Modern Rendering into Prose. The Modern Reader's Chaucer (with Professor J. S. P. Tatlock). IMPORTANT NOTICE By special permission of the Author, per- formances of this Dramatic Action, "George Washington," may be given by amateurs free of royalty, provided such performances are enacted for the benefit of the George Wash- ington Memorial Association, Washington, D. C, on or before June i, 1920. After that date all performances are for- bidden unless permission therefor has first been secured, in advance, from the author, by applying to him direct, at 27 West 44th Street, New York City. For further information in regard to the published text of the play and of the ballad music, see Preface of this volume. GEORGE WASHINGTON A DRAMATIC ACTION WITH A PROLOGUE PERCY MACKAYE Scene Design by ROBERT EDMOND JONES Together With Comments and Suggestions in Regard to ITS Production, by the Author, the Scene Designer, and WALTER HAMPDEN FIRST impersonator OF THE TITLE-ROLE OF THE three-act play, from which this Action is selected, entitled WASHINGTON, The Man Who Made Us A Ballad Play by Percy MacKaye Published by Alfred A. Knopf, New York Copyright, 1918 BY Percy MacKaye Copyright 1920 BY Percy MacKaye All Rights Reserved By Tranefdr Ui- 28 1920 PREFACE At the request of the George Washington Memorial Association, through its President, Mrs. Henry F. Dimock, of Washington, D. C, I am very glad to place this little volume at the service of the Associa- tion with a view to assisting its commemorative purposes at this time throughout America. The Dramatic Action here printed is a brief excerpt only of my complete Ballad Play, in three acts and a prologue, "Washington: The Man Who Made Us," published by Alfred A. Knopf, 220 West 42nd St., New York; and this excerpt comprises one Action (the Ninth) selected from the fourteen Actions contained in the three-act play. By courtesy of the publisher, the plates of pages 162 to 191 of the larger volume have been loaned, free of charge, to print a thou- sand copies of this book, for distribution by the George Washington Memorial Association to various communities for use until the first day of June, 1920. After that date, if further copies of the text arc desired, inquiry should be made of the publisher; if permission to perform it is desired, application should be made direct to the author, at his address below, where it is requested that two copies of the program and press notices of all performances, at any time given, be forwarded to him. In all such programs the following Note is to be printed, at the head of the Cast of Characters: "This Dramatic Action, 'George Washington,' is the Ninth Action selected from the complete play, 'Washington, The Man Who Made Us,' by Percy MacKaye, published by Alfred A. Knopf, 220 West 42nd St., New York. For sale by all book sellers." At the present date announcement has been made to the public that Mr. Walter Hampden will present my complete play for the first time, on Washington's Birthday, 1920, at the Belasco Theatre, Washington, D. C, himself enacting the part of George Washington in the scenic production of Mr. Robert Edmond Jones. By the public in many parts of America Mr. Hampden's dis- tinguished acting in the title roles of "The Servant in the House," "Hamlet," and very recently "The Wayfarer" (under the auspices of the Interchurch World Movement), has been greatly welcomed as comparable to the noblest traditions of his profession; and the abounding gifts of Mr. Jones as a creative artist of the theatre have been notably recognized in his scenic productions of "Redemption," "The Jest," "Caliban," and "The Birthday of the Infanta." With a view to assisting the simplification of amateur produc- tions of this Action of my play, both of these artists associated with its professional production have written their Comments and Sug- gestions with my own, printed on the pages immediately following the dramatic context. The music and words of the ballad introductory to this Action ("The Raggle Taggle Gypsies"), as well as the ballads with music included in the complete three-act Ballad-Play, may be obtained from the H. W. Gray Company, publishers of music, 2 West 45th St., New York — the ballad of this Ninth Action being illustrated by Dorothy Fuller (of the Fuller Sisters), the other ballads by Arvia MacKaye. My complete play, "Washington," from which this Action is taken, I began to write at Washington, D. C, in December, 19 17, and completed at Shirley Centre, Massachusetts, on July 4th, 191 8. Though it had long been partially projected in my mind, yet the human meanings illumined by our entrance into the Great War, and the world relationships implied by that vast decision, were compelling incentives for me to undertake and bring the play to completion, setting during that time all other matters aside. To-day, George Washington — dead — is for most people a figure remote, statuesque, dignified, cold, almost mythical; one to be re- vered, but not warmly loved. But in his own day — alive — he was a magnetic human being, passionate, patient, resourceful — a rugged personality, lovable and greatly beloved. It has been, then, my aim so to portray him in his strong prime, with truth to reality, that we of America to-day may be led to feel a more intimate affection for "the man who made us," and for the still contemporary cause which he espoused for mankind. Percy MacKaye. Harvard Club, 27 West ^^th St., Neiv York; January 20, 1920. CHARACTERS OF THE PROLOGUE Voices of the People (chanting, unseen, or vaguely- suggested ) A Town Crier (Quilloquon) A Ballad Singer (Quilloquon) A Little Boy A Little Girl OF THE DRAMATIC ACTION Thomas Paine Lieut. James Monroe Gen. George Washington Col. Alexander Hamilton "The Figure'' The sound of a flute (QuilJoquon's) Voices of men (outside) [For the costuming of these characters of the Prologue and Action, and for the lighting of the scene, see the Comments and Suggestions at the back of this volume.] Place and Time: By the Delaware River, above Trenton; Christmas Niffht, IT]6. Scene: An Opening amid snow-laden Woods by Moonlight. GEORGE WASHINGTON A DRAMATIC ACTION rxITVS -ACTA- PROBAT PROLOGUE (Parts i and 2) The stage is shut off from the audience by simple blue curtains, closed where they meet at the centre. Behind the curtains a far-off bell is heard ring- ing, with musical cadence. Now its tone changes to a deep, mellow pealing; and now its rhythmic cadence is blended with far-sounding chimes, through which low murmurous Voices of many people rise, fall and rise again more loud — like a great wind, heard distantly, over forest trees. At first hardly audible, the deep murmur grows grad- ually more articulate, till — between the pulsing 162 WASHINGTON [Act II chimes — occasional words and phrases emerge distinguishable, above this flowing utterance of the chanting Voices: THE VOICES 'When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, — 'And to assume among the powers of the earth the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Na- ture and of Nature's God entitle them, — 'A decent respect for the opinions of mankind re- quires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.' [As the murmurous Chant lessens to a lull, there is heard a single Voice intoning '^'Oyez!" and the blue curtains are seen to have parted slightly at the centre, discovering — against a background of dark — the Figure of a Town Crier, holding in his left hand a staff to which is attached a lantern, and of which the heraldic top is a hatchet-blade. The Crier holds near the lantern in his right hand a paper broadside, from which — after call- ing his Preamble — he reads aloud, intoning with the voice of Quilloquon:] THE crier [Quilloquon] Oyez! Oyez! People of America, hear ye! Act II] WASHINGTON 163 This day, in the town hall of Philadelphia, duly convened,— this day in the year of our Lord, One Thousand, Seven Hundred and Seventy-Six, — being the Fourth day of July— forevermore, unto all peo- ples, declareth the Assembly of our people: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident: — that all men are created equal,— that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, — that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Hap- piness,— that to secure these rights. Governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. 'That whenever any form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it. 'And when a long train of abuses evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, — it is their right, it is their duty to throw off such Government, — and to provide new Guards for their future security. 'Such has been the patient suffrance of these Col- onies. 'Our repeated petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. — A Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people. — We, therefore. The Representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, 164 WASHINGTON [Act II — appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, — do, in the Name, and by the authority of the good People of these Colonies, — solemnly Publish and Declare, 'That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be, — Free and Independent States! 'And for the support of this Declaration, we mu- tually pledge to each other — our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honour.' [^5 the Town Crier concludes, a Boy and a Girl run in from either side, raising their hands toward the paper broadsides, from one of several copies of which he has been reading. Handing to each a copy, he raises his lantern- staff, and as they run off, right, he follows, call- ing aloud :^ Oyez! Oyez! People of the Ages, — hear ye! (Part 3) In the distance, The Crier's repeated call of ''Oyez!** is dying away on the right, when on the left a fiddle begins to play the melody of a ballad- tune,^ during which the visible dim space be- comes palely luminous with a swirling greyness, as of snowflakes beginning to fall. * The melody of 'Raggle-Taggle Gypsies.' Act II] WASHINGTON 165 And now— the fiddle having ceased— to a thrumming of the same tune upon strings, three tattered greyish forms enter from the left: the two Chil- dren and a Man, who is playing a dulcimer. All three — recognizable once more as The Boy, The Girl and Quilloquon — come singing the ballad-tune words, which they act out in their pantomime, severally assuming the parts, in sim- ple ballad fashion, of the characters their song refers to — Lord, Lady, Servants and Gypsies. the three figures [Quilloquon and the Children] *There were three gypsies a-come to my door. And down-stairs ran this a-lady, 0! One sang high and the other sang low, And the other sang Bonny, bonny Biscay, 0! [The Girl] 'Then she pulled off her silk-finished gown And put on hose of leather, 0! [The Boy and Quilloquon] 'The ragged, ragged rags about our door — She's gone with the raggle-taggle gypsies, 0! [The Little Girl runs off right. 1 [The Boy] ' 'Twas late last night when my lord came home, Inquiring for his a-lady, 0. 166 WASHINGTON [Act II . The servants said on every hand: She's gone with the raggle-taggle gypsies, ! [QuiLLOQUON turns and addresses The Boy.] [Quilloquon] *Come, saddle to me my milk-white steed, And go and fetch my pony, 0! That I may ride and seek my bride, Who is gone with the raggle-taggle gypsies, ! [ The two run off, right. The Little Girl alone enters immediately^ left, followed — to the thrumming of the dul- cimer — by The Boy, who remains near his place of entrance and sings. While he does so, Quilloquon enters, passes him, and advances toward The Girl, looking about, seeming at first not to see Aer.] [The Boy] 'Then he rode high, and he rode low, He rode through wood and copses, too, Until he came to an open field, And there he espied his a-lady, 0! [Quilloquon, approaching the Girl, with as- pect of lordly severity.] *What makes you leave your house and land? What makes you leave your money, 0! Act II] WASHINGTON 167 What makes you leave your new-wedded lord, To go with the raggle-taggle gypsies, ! [The Girl] *0, what care I for my house and land? What care I for my money, 0? What care I for my new-wedded lord? I'm off with the raggle-taggle gypsies, 0! [The falling snow flakes grow thicker and the scene more dim. ] [Quilloquon] *Last night you slept on a goose-feather bed, With the sheet turned down so bravely, 0! But to-night you'll sleep in a cold open field. Along with the raggle-taggle gypsies, 0! [The Girl] *0, what care I for a goose-feather bed, With the sheet turned down so bravely, ! For tonight I shall sleep in a cold open field — Along with the raggle-taggle gypsies, 0!' [ With a swift, proud gesture of departure, lift- ing her last song-note to its octave higher, the little Girl goes off, right, with steps of gladness, while Quilloquon — in crestfallen grandeur — strides off with the BoY, left. The Girl's voice, however, has hardly ceased, and Quilloquon has not yet disap' 168 WASHINGTON [Act II peared, when a Mans Voice is heard singing through the dim whirling snowfall:] THE man's voice [Sings huskily.] *0, what care I for a goose-feather bed. With the sheet turned down so bravely, 0! For tonight — I shall sleep in a cold open field Along with the raggle-taggle gypsies, 0!' [Then suddenly the Voice speaks, with sharp staccato.] Who goes there? NINTH ACTION The Mans Voice breaks in a raspy fit of coughing. While he has sung, the blue curtains have drawn back to the width of the full stage-aperture, revealing the Singer himself — a Sentinel, in ragged Ameri- can uniform, standing in the night near a low- burning camp-fire {left). The snow has ceased falling. The fire dimly lights by its gleam a space surrounded by vaguely dis- cerned walls of snow-laden woods, except in the background. There — between boles of trees, rising like columns of grey ice — an arch-like Act II] WASHINGTON 169 opening gives glimpses of struggling moonlight and gusty, grey-black darkness, through which a low, muffled thudding and crackling murmur rise occasionally to the ear. Holding for a moment his musket poised, the Sentinel looks off {left), listening. Then, lowering his gun and turning to the fire, he crouches by it, blows his fingers, takes from within his tattered coat a little book, holds it open near the firelight and begins writing in it. While he does so, through the glooming aperture in the background, the tall, silhouetted form of Washington, in long military cloak, his hands gripped behind him, is seen to pace slowly past and disappear (right). The Sentinel stops writing, gesticulates to himself ^ muttering; then reads aloud from his book. the sentinel *0 ye, that love mankind! Ye that dare oppose not only tyranny but the tyrant, stand forth! Every spot of the Old World is overrun with oppression. Freedom hath been hunted round the globe. 0, re- ceive the fugitive, and prepare in time an asylum for mankind!' [Coughing slightly, he stares a moment in the fire: then writes again. In the background, the dim form of Wash- 170 WASHINGTON [Act II INGTON, returning, paces past and disappears, left. Half rising now from his crouched posture, the Sentinel reads again from his book in the firelight, with gesture as of ardent conversation with another.^ 'To see it in our power to make a world happy, to teach mankind the art of being so, to exliibit on the theatre of the universe a character hitherto unknown, and to have, as it were, a new creation entrusted to our hands, — are honours that command reflection.' [^Closing his book, he looks intently in the night. Then suddenly, dropping the book, he seizes up his gun, leaps to his feet and calls out:^ Who goes there? THE man's voice \^Answers from outside, leftJ\ Merry Christmas! THE SENTINEL Merry Christmas, yourself! [^ Man limps wearily in, through a gap in the snow-covered evergreens. The firelight re- veals him also forlornly clad in ragged regi- mentals. The Sentinel half lowers his gun.'\ What's your name, and allegiance? Act II] WASHINGTON 171 THE MAN Lieutenant James Monroe, of the United States. THE SENTINEL [Saluting — a bit slouchily, like a civilian.'] *Which are, and of right ought to be, free and inde- pendent!' Pass, Lieutenant Monroe, in the name of our immortal Declaration. MONROE Immortal, Sir, let us hope, but ought to be isn't are by a long shot — whatever Mr. Jefferson hath immor- tally declared for us. [Sitting on a rock by the fire, he examines his foot.] THE SENTINEL [Bending over him.] Lord, lieutenant, your foot's bloody — bleeding bad! Here, wait a minute. [Tearing a strip from his own regimentals, he kneels down beside Monroe.] You need bandaging. MONROE Thanks, friend. We all do — in this uniform. [Behind them the shadowy form of Washing- ton paces past again, and noiselessly disappears. While the Sentinel is stooping over, wrap- ping his companions foot in bandages, MoN- 172 WASHINGTON [Act II roe's hand — resting on the book — raises it. Glancing curiously at the open page, he mut- ters:] Hello, what's here? [The Sentinel looks up an instant, but goes on immediately with his occupation. Monroe reads aloud:] "These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered.' [Turning to the front of the book, he looks closely and reads:] "Tom Paine: His Note Book."— Great Caesar! Where did this come from? THE SENTINEL From a hater of Caesar — out of my breast pocket, Sir. MONROE Yours! You — Thomas Paine, the author of "Cora- monsense"? PAINE Unauthorized by His Majesty: that's me. Act II] WASHINGTON 173 MONROE [Rising and saluting.] Why, Sir, permit me to salute — the Revolution! 'Tis a privilege to meet Public Opinion face to face. PAINE You meet just a sentinel at his post, Sir. 'Tis a privilege of serving Liberty, to inquire: "Who goes there?" MONROE Your inquiry will bum the ears of kings till their doomsday, Mr. Paine. Your challenge rings over the Atlantic. For my part, I should like to see it made the Atlantic doctrine — No passing for Old World tyrants this side of the world! PAINE And why not doctrine for t'other side, too, Mr- Monroe? MONROE [Sitting again.] Well, Sir, — a touch of modesty. I administer my doctrine by the dose — half a world at a time. PAINE Not me, lieutenant. My mother didn't bear me modest, nor twins; so, following her maternal exam- ple, I never give birth to a principle by hemispheres. 174 WASHINGTON [Act II MONROE {^Holding one foot and twinging.] Well and good, Mr. Paine, but hadn't we better confine our universal dreams to gypsy camps — con- sidering our style of bed tonight? PAINE [Humming the words.] '0, what care I for a goose-feather bed With the sheet turned down — ' [Breaking off with a short laugh.] Ha! "Raggle-taggle" : that's the tune of Revolu- tion, Sir. MONROE [Wearily.] Oh, I don't know ! There's times I almost think we deserve goose-feathers — and tar, too — for such loy- alty as ours. PAINE [Sharply.] What's that! Is that your ripe judgment of our cause? MONROE No, Sir, not ripe — just rotten. I'm dog-tired — tired of failure. The game's up! We know our dreams — but look at the facts. PAINE Well— what facts? Act II] WASHINGTON 175 MONROE Listen ! [He pauses a moment.^ You hear that sound? [They both listen in silence. Shadowy in the background, the form of Washington re-passes and disappears.] PAINE You mean the river there — tlie ice rattling? MONROE Yes: the death-rattle of our rebellion. I mean, that Delaware river can tell our story. That's us — the American army. Last summer, what were we? The warm, quick stream of our country's passion, welling like hot blood,, pouring out of the hills — the turbulent current of a continent. And now, in December, — what now, ha? That's us — out there: a death-cold stream, congealing while we move: a current choked up with the ice of its own broken heart — any hour to be buried under, gone, stone-cold as this river bank tonight. PAINE [Humming, as he fondles his musket.] Tor tonight I shall sleep in a cold open field' — [Speaking.] And those facts. Lieutenant? Skip the metaphors. 176 WASHINGTON [Act II MONROE Facts, Sir? The facts are disaster and retreat. At Brooklyn Heights — failure, retreat; New York — the same; Fort Washington, Fort Lee — lost, both; the Hudson — lost; and here now for months in Jersey — ignominious retreat: deserters, dropping off like rats from a wreck: militia without honour; officers without obedience; a Congress that votes battalions, but no money — and this nearly two years since Bunker Hill! So here, Mr. Paine, this Christmas night, while the German hirelings are rum-drinking over the river there in Trenton — these are the facts: To expel from America His Majesty's twenty-five thousand regulars, stuffed with plum pudding — here we are: twenty-four hundred retreating frozen-bellied gypsies! PAINE [Quickly.] And one general. MONROE [Rising slowly, speaks with quiet emotion.] Aye, Sir — one general. After all, for us, I guess that's the only fact. For, if needs be, we'll follow that one the gypsy path to hell. PAINE [With a gesture of silence, points to the back- ground.] Shh! Act II] WASHINGTON 111 [Silently, once more, in dim silhouette, the form of Washington paces past and is gone. For a moment, they stand watching, motionless. Then Monroe speaks, under his breath.] MONROE Him? — Is this camp-fire his? PAINE [Nodding.] I'm his sentinel here. MONROE 1 bear a dispatch to him. PAINE Not now: not for half an hour. That's my orders. He's thinking. He thinks — alone. MONROE And walks like that? PAINE Sometimes. Sometimes he just stands — like a tree — all night. MONROE What, and sleeps — standing? PAINE Not sleeps, I guess; though often his eyes are 178 WA SHINGTON [Act II closed. He calls it, — taking his cat-naps. And sometimes he takes 'em walking. MONROE Walking! PAINE Like we saw — there. MONROE [Taking out a folded paper.] But this dispatch, Mr. Paine? PAINE Follow me, Sir: I'll take you to Colonel Hamilton. Since the General met him in New York, he's made a son of him. — He's over yonder, with General Knox. MONROE [Taking Paine' s hand in the dim light, follows him, limping.] Some future Ghristmas, Mr. Paine, we must resume our fireside conversation on the doctrine of hemi- spheres. PAINE Hemispheres? — No, Sir: give me globes! [They disappear in the darkness. After a moment — pacing past again in the background — the huge form of Washington Act II] WASHINGTON 179 pauses, comes slowly down half way to the fire and stands there. In long military cloak, three-cornered hat, and great boots, his hands still clutched behind him — his posture is erect as an Indian. Around his throat is a piece of woollen cloth. His eyes are intently fixed, his lips compressed with painful tightness. He remains perfectly motionless. Vaguely the sounds of wind and river-ice deepen the silence of their pausings. Soon, from the right, very quietly, the slight small form of a young Man comes into the gleam of the fire. He is in uniform, shabby but borne with alert distinction. He passes over to the fi,re and waits there. As he crosses the gaze of Washington, the eyes of the latter follow him and continue to look at him for a moment, before he speaks in a tone hoarse with cold.] WASHINGTON Ah! Hamilton — you? HAMILTON Yes, your Excellency. WASHINGTON Are the boats secured? 180 WASHINGTON [Act II HAMILTON Yes, your Excellency. WASHINGTON All? HAMILTON Yes, Sir. WASHINGTON [Murmurs.] Ah! [Slowly, he begins to pace again. Hamilton waits, near the fire. Soon Washington speaks again, abrupt.] Oh! Alexander! HAMILTON What, Sir? WASHINGTON You dispatched my letter to Mt. Vernon? HAMILTON To Lady Washington: Yes, Sir. WASHINGTON [Murmuring low, as he paces.] You're a good boy — you're a good boy — [After a moment, pausing again, he speaks with staccato sharpness.] Well?— Well? Your report! Act II] WASHINGTON 181 HAMILTON This message, by Lieutenant Monroe, from General Gates at Bristol. Shall I read it. Sir? WASHINGTON No: give me the gist. HAMILTON General Gates has received your orders. He un- derstands it is your plan to strike the Hessians tonight at Trenton, with five co-operating divisions, com- manded severally by yourself, himself, Generals Ewing, Putnam and Griffin. Accordingly, he has dis- patched General Cadwalader to the river. WASHINGTON Well? HAMILTON General Cadwalader has looked at the river. WASHINGTON Has he!— Well? HAMILTON He considers the floating ice impassable — WASHINGTON Considers! — HAMILTON The chances desperate, and he is gone back to Bristol. 182 WASHINGTON [Act II WASHINGTON Gone back to Brimstonel Let him sit there and broil his rump! — What else? HAMILTON Another message from General Gates, by Captain Wilkinson. WASHINGTON We are twice favoured. — Well? HAMILTON General Gates himself has set out for Philadelphia, to inform Congress — WASHINGTON Inform Congress — what of? HAMILTON That he disapproves your plan, and cannot co- operate. WASHINGTON Ah! [After a pause.l^ What further messages? HAMILTON From General Putnam, at Philadelphia. WASHINGTON [Quickly.] What's Put say? Act II] WASHINGTON 183 HAMILTON He regrets his division cannot march tonight. WASHINGTON [Slowly.] Old Put says that.— Well! —Next? HAMILTON General Ewing regrets the ice, but will try whatever seems most practical — in the morning. WASHINGTON Try! He'd better try lard, and fry in his own fat! That's practical for corn pone — ha ! — in the morning! [Washington's features contract, and he gnaws fiercely the edge of his hand, before speak- ing again.] So: tliat makes three divisions time-stalled — ^use- less. [He glances slowly at Hamilton.] And the fourth — ? HAMILTON General Griffin sends word — [He pauses.] WASHINGTON What are his regrets? 184 WASHINGTON [Act II HAMILTON He regrets his necessity to abandon New Jersey altogether. WASHINGTON [Lifting off his hat, raises it high aloft.] Jehovah, God of chariots! And this is the thunder of Thy captains! [Dashing his hat to the ground, he grinds his boot upon it.] Blithering skulkgudgeons! These are my fighting generals! [An immense shudder wrenches his body. Controlling a sharp spasm, his face grows marble. Stooping, he takes up the crumpled hat and holds it in silence; then, slowly turning his look from the hat to Hamilton's face, he speaks with tense quiet.] Alexander: not a word of this! You understand? HAMILTON Not a word, your Excellency. WASHINGTON Your report, Sir, is satisfactory. At midnight, oui division will cross the Delaware — alone. HAMILTON [With quiet emotion.] Nay, Sir: not alone. Act II] WASHINGTON 185 WASHINGTON I said — ours alone. What other forces are left to attend us? HAMILTON The Ages, your Excellency: the forces that prevail over river barriers: there, Sir, still flows — the Rubi- con. WASHINGTON [Hoarsely.] Nay, my boy — not so classic. The Delaware will do, for tonight. 'Tis no Caesar stands in my boots. [With smouldering fire, that dartles, flames and then bursts.] But 'tis Caesar, I reckon, who camps over there with his legions: a Caesar, hog-latin from Hanover, who would make the Atlantic his channel — who hires his own German breed to help suppress English freedom in both England and America, making his chancellors his apes and his commoners his minions. I'd rather you called me Hannibal-in-a-cocked-hat than such a Hessian Roman! HAMILTON I am well corrected. Sir. I cannot gainsay — the cocked hat. [With swift ardour, going near to him.] But oh, my dear General, I want you only to know my utter conviction of this night! 186 WASHINGTON [Act II WASHINGTON [Looking at him — slowly.] Your conviction, son? HAMILTON This night is the beginning of the world. — Darkness was over the face of the deep, and He said, "Let there be light!" WASHINGTON [Murmurs.] And there was light. HAMILTON And there was light! WASHINGTON Without form and void — and after that — light and order. HAMILTON Order — and organic structure: a new world — a new-builded unity — a new self-government above war- ring tribes — a commonwealth above kings — and its name, America! WASHINGTON You are young — and you have seen it. HAMILTON [Ardently.] I see it. Sir! Act II] WASHINGTON 187 WASHINGTON I am getting old — but I too have seen it — darkly. Old eyes and young must work together, boy. Will finds its way. HAMILTON And the will is here. WASHINGTON Ah?— Where? HAMILTON [With a reverent smile. ^ Under that crumpled hat, Sir. WASHINGTON [Smiling back faintly — speaks, after a pause.] The boats are ready? HAMILTON On the face of the deep. WASHINGTON Over there — no crossing back. Over there — are the looted homes of freemen, and the German loot- ers — keeping the birth of Christ, there. Over that water, my boy, is our final stake: 'tis fight to a finish. HAMILTON And fight — for the beginning: our commonwealth above kings! 188 WASHINGTON [Act II WASHINGTON In the beginning — there was a word spoken^a watchword — and the stars held their watch ever after. [From the distance^ on the right, a single faint bugle-note is heard.] HAMILTON Sir, yes! Our watchword: the men are waiting for it. WASHINGTON [Mutters, looking off.] No stars yet tonight! HAMILTON [With fervour.] You will give it, Sir — you alone. I'll go tell them. This pad. Sir: write it on this; I'll return in a moment %nd get it. I beg of you, Sir, — the watchword! [Handing to Washington a little pad of paper, Hamilton goes swiftly off in the dark- ness, right. Left alone, Washington continues muttering to himself.] WASHINGTON Above warring tribes. Out of the void — a form. And there was light of stars — and order. Void, and then — victory ! Act II] WASHINGTON 189 [Slowly — his lips still murmuring — he begins to pace back and forth, his hands clutched behind him. While he does so, out of the night, a low, flute- like music plays softly the air of 'Raggle-taggle Gypsies.' As the melody ceases, Washington pauses {at the left) by the tree-bole, that forms there a col- umn for the arch-like opening of snow-crusted evergreens. From there — as he moves again slowly down to the log by the fire, and sits there, holding the little pad in his left hand — he is followed from behind by a dim-robed Figure in red, its face cowled in deep shadow, its arms crossed in large folds of its dark garment. Pausing for a moment behind him, where he sits, the Figure bends above him in the firelight. Reaching a shadowy arm, it touches with its right hand the right hand of Washington, poised with a pencil to write. At the touch, once more, faintly a bugle is heard, the hand of Washington writes, and the bugle-note dies away as the Figure steals silently back to the centre of the snowy arch. Washington does not move or speak; but now, from the right, low voices are heard and Ham- ilton reappears. Glimpsed with him for a mo- ment are the forms of Tom Paine and two or 190 WASHINGTON [Act II three others in regimentals, who retire at a ges- ture from Hamilton. Approaching Washington, Hamilton is about to speak, but checks himself at the other's intent posture of absorption — his open left hand hold- ing extended the little pad. Seeing this, Hamilton — drawing closer — glances at it in the firelight, and reads:] HAMILTON [Murmuring low.] Victory or death. [Then, swiftly in silence returning toward the dimness, right, he speaks in vibrant tone:] Victory or death! [As he disappears, the Voice of Tom Paine answers from farther off: ''Victory or death!" Still farther, then, in the distance, other Voices call faintly to each other: "Victory or death!" These Voices have hardly ceased, when once more a far bugle is heard. Washington stirs slightly, clutching his hands before him. Now the bugle is answered by another, and in the arched middleground, the Dim-Red Figure in the Cowl quivers with deepening colour. Washington tightens the great joints of his hands, and breathes heavily. Act II] WASHINGTON 191 And now, through the dark, increasingly, the upblowing notes of bugles begin to rise, like irises of sound. And as they rise, the grey of gust-blurred moonlight in the background clears to a pallid blue, which deepens and — fill- ing swiftly with stars — takes on a glowing inten- sity of azure. Against this sky of stars, impanelled by the shadowy arch, the red of the cowled Figure looms and dilates with the sanguine richness of flame. And now the bugles — as many as the stars — magnify their blaring notes to a martial revelry of music, crashing the dark with their silver and brazen peals. Staring upward in the midst of this sound and the colour behind him, Washington starts to his feet in the foreground — both arms upraised in a gesture immense and terrible — his voice break- ing with sharp joy, as he cries hoarsely aloud:] WASHINGTON Victory! Lord God of battles — victory! END OF ACT II COMMENTS AND SUGGESTIONS I_NOTE ON PRODUCTION By Walter Hampden Necessarily these hints are merely of the slightest, in the hope that each group presenting this episode will contain some one person of the requisite imagination and skill to develop and supplement them. This consideration leads at once to the all important one of direction. Choose, by all means, a stage director, either from your own group, or an amateur or professional coach in whose judgment you can place con- fidence. He it is who will have to sense the effect of the whole: to unify the lighting, the scene, the atmosphere, the mood of the acting, into one complete harmony. The first suggestion to him is to read the text without analysis and try to catch his early strong impressions. Let him hold these and not depart from them. They will form the base of his work. With some thought and quiet meditation they will flower into the essentials which will stimulate his imagination to the discovery of all the organic details. Casting the parts is also important. Do not be too realistically historical. Appearance for the role is a sec- ondary consideration. If it happens to go along with things of more importance, power to project personality and the illusion of character, so much the better. Departures from age, stature, looks and voice are not of primary consequence. If there be an exception it is, of course, in regard to the actor of Washington. Washington is so much a part of the visual memory of the people of this country that it is wise to favor physical suitability in this instance. The main elements to base a choice upon are audibility of voice, dis- tinctness of enunciation, vitality and responsiveness of tem- perament, and that personal quality that spells character, by which I mean that sympathetic capacity to feel it and •exhibit it. Think of contrasts of type for Paine and Monroe; the latter bluff, moody, low-toned ; Paine, keen-eyed, with an incisive utterance, and intellectual enthusiasm. Hamilton must impart a distinct sense of confident youth, so as to offset the heroic and mature Washington. Quilloquon may be almost anything that is racy of the soil, provided he be mellow and colorful. He should typify generations of retro- spect and have a spring in his step and an alertness of glance that suggest his relation to ages yet to come. Though he has music to sing, remember his rendition should not be operatic, but instinct with character. Let him keep to the time, yet half speak the song. Any clever boy and girl, not prettified, can pantomime sufficiently for the two chil- dren. It would be idle to indicate stage mechanics — they are so adaptable to conditions of place and person. The dia- logue is supplemented with numerous directions explanatory of the author's intention, and Mr. Jones' design for the scene is replete with suggestion. Viewing this action as a whole, it stands, coldly lighted and deeply shaded, enwrapped by the solemn bracing at- mosphere of the Declaration of Independence. Quilloquon's ballad sets in fanciful way, with its wistful gaiety and plain- tive charm, the serious mood of the action to follow. This action again, before Hamilton's entrance, has a lighter qual- ity than after, so let Monroe not be ponderous in his de- pression and let him and Paine keep this early part of the scene cheery with the "gameness" of an invincible optimism. Emphasize, however, those details of business which indi- cate cold and physical suffering. The passage where they note Washington as he passes to and fro in background must not be heavy in tone, but rather weighted by pauses, otherw'ise their play will detract from the force of Wash- ington's method in the later part of the scene. For the actor of Washington, I w^ould merely suggest that he do as little as possible. Repose will give him strength and a reduction of facial play and gesture to a minimum will aid to render him heroic — and a hero in the fullest sense he must be without theatrical strut or pose. A final word for Mr. Director: Don't try to fix your methods of expression upon your actors, for they won't fit. Imprint your conception on their minds, inspire tliem with your enthusiasm, hold them together by authority of under- standing rather than by discipline. Foster the growth of vour ideas in them and their own as well, and eliminate as much detail as possible. There is always the one expres- sive detail which implies all the rest. Seek it. II.— NOTE ON COSTUMES AND LIGHTING By Robert Edniond Jones Use a white floor-cloth. In the illustration bare trees are suggested by strips of cloth dyed dark grey and hanging in vertical folds from above the line of sight. They are touched with white where they meet the floor. Behind them the floor-cloth is draped over a flat board cut in the silhouette of a low hill ; behind this again is a straight blue curtain or cyclorama. Paine, Monroe, Washington and Hamilton wear regi- mentals of buff and blue, stained and ragged, and three- cornered hats. Washington also wears a military cloak and great boots. The dress for The Figure suggests by the varying folds of its material, both the Adams Memorial, by Saint Gaudens (in the Rock Creek Cemetery, Washing- ton, D. C), and the figure of the Prophet Hosea in the frieze by Sargent, in the Boston Public Library. Its face should be completely hidden. The color of the robe is the red of the stripes of the American flag, which in the finale is seen in combination with a sky of blue, which is the blue curtain brightly lighted. The lighting of the scene is the most important element of the production. For this scene there are two kinds of light contrasted with each other: firelight and cold blue moonlight. The fire is suggested in this way: Half-burned logs of wood heaped together so as to conceal electric bulbs dipped in yellow, red and blue, rightly proportioned. No footlights; no borderlights in the foreground; hidden spot- lights of dim cold blue shining obliquely down on the white floor-cloth; a spot-light of red to strike The Figure in the center. Rear border-lights in blue and a strip of blue lights concealed behind the hill to shine on the sky curtain. These last (for the sky and The Figure) must be ar- ranged on "dimmers" or otherwise to grow gradually brighter and brighter at the end of the scene. The sky- cloth is perforated with tiny holes; behind each perforation is an electric "star." The stars are used, of course, only at the end of the scene. Or the stars may be more simply rendered by small, three-pointed pieces of tinsel pinned to the curtain, unseen until the moment of illumination. Necessarily these notes are merely hints. All will depend on who makes use of them. They are meant as suggestions to local producers of imagination, who will use or discard them according to their own discretion. III.— NOTE ON INTERPRETATION By Percy MacKaye Concerning the production of this Dramatic Action by amateurs, I would add only these brief comments (on certain details of interpretation) to those of Mr. Hampden and Mr. Jones. The bell and the chimes in the beginning should be mellow in tone, and should be carefully rehearsed so as to be a subordinate undertone to the chanting of the Declara- tion, itself an effect which should be rendered under direc- tion of one whose ear is sensitive to the right cadencing and rhythm of chanted poetry. Quilloquon, as the Town Crier, while differentiating his acting and voice from those of the singing Ballad Singer (his second appearance) yet remains always the balladist, and should render his clear-spoken quotation from the Declaration with the rhythmic — but not metrical — utterance of spoken poetry. For "the Raggle-Taggle Gypsies" Quilloquon is dressed in old-time home-spun eighteenth-century garb, weather worn with a touch of gypsy color; the children in simple smocks, also weather worn, bare-footed, their hair not curled but very simply nautral. In regard to the dim-robed Figure at the finale of the Action (which represents the elemental symbol of human liberty, still cowled and but shadowly revealed) the stage direction on page 189 reads: "Reaching a shadowy arm, it touches with its right hand the right hand of Washington." This is incorrect and should not be done. The Figure must not touch Washington physically but must indicate, with serene majestic gesture, that its power dominates the action of Washington and dictates the action of his arm and hand in writing the watchword. Neither should The Figure move from the back nearer to the audience than to the middleground, nor approach close to Washington, but should dominate from behind — by the height of its great-robed stature — his seated form in the foreground. For this, of course, an actor of great pro- portions (a man, not a woman), endowed with majesty and quiet grace of gesture, should be selected. In the final blare of bugles sounding outside, the volume of sound should never be so loud as to suggest realism, the climax of the crescendo must be reached before Washington speaks in the instant of silence immediately following it, so as not to drown or blur the articulation of the actor of Washington, in his hoarse cry of "Victory! Lord God of battles, victory!" In this respect, do not let the words "crashing the dark," in the printed stage directions on page 191, mislead the stage director to create an actual roaring loudness of sound : the stage directions do not intend a real- ism of noise; they intend to suggest a rising crescendo of music always far-sounding as in a dream, and never obtru- sively loud. Of course — and especially for performances by amateurs — it goes without saying that this final vision and music of the Action cannot be rightly achieved without expert equip- ment in lighting apparatus and lighting directorship, as well as patient rehearsal. Without such expert equipment and rehearsal, the visionary portion of the firiale would better be omitted altogether, rather than risk a mawkish or tawdry light-effect which would negate or cheapen the acting and the emotion of the scene. In case the visionary part be omitted, then the final effect must depend on appeal more to the ear than to the eye, rendered by means of the right cadencing and interval-spacing of the off-stage voices, in their murmured diminuendo of "Victory or death," the last repeti- tion of which (in any case) is the cue for the final speech of Washington. By Percy Mac Kay e WASHINGTON THE MAN WHO MADE US A Ballad Play "Mr. MacKaye has given us in this work a new form for the theatre, for which we must be grateful; but beyond and away above the form in importance stands the play itself. Here we have something worthy of our country." — Newj York Tribune. "By a striking invention, the author is able to carry his story along with- out halting, and at times to fuse both past and present." — New York Sun. "In intent and spirit it is wholly admirable, sturdily American, broad- minded, fervid in maintaining the principles of liberty and brotherhood for mankind." — The Nation. "Mr. MacKaye has conceived a work that upon historical background shows the trend of the momentous happenings of today and gives a glimpse of the import of the future." — Neiv York Telegraph. Of Alexander Hamilton, as depicted in Mr. MacKaye's play "Wash- ington," Dr. Allan McLane Hamilton, his grandson, writes in a letter to the author: "No one has ever grasped Hamilton's character as have you." "Percy MacKaye has done the thrilling job of giving us in Washington a magnetic, passionate, resourceful, lovable human being." — Everybody's Magazine. "Why has George Washington never been 'starred' on the American stage? The most impressive and dramatic figure of our history, the First Citizen has never authoritatively had the boards till now in the ballad play of Percy MacKaye." — Samuel Hopkins Adams, in Collier's Weekly. With six scene designs by ROBERT EDMOND JONES $2.00 net — at all bookshops Alfred A. Knopf: New York |N6?1