Part 2

[_With a gesture of startled wildness_, TACITA _breaks abruptly from her rhythmic motions, and flees into the wood, while simultaneously from the other side there enters, swift but staggering_, ORNIS—_a maiden, garbed symbolically as a bird. On one of her wing-like sleeves blood shows. With shrill, melodious cry, she flutters forward._]

ORNIS

Ee-ó-lee! O-rée-o! Sanctuary!

[_Swaying, she falls to the ground._ ALWYN _and_ SHY _spring toward her_.]

ALWYN

Help, Shy! She falls!

SHY

[_At_ ORNIS’ _side_.]

Wing-struck! Here’s blood.

ALWYN

That shot?

SHY

The gun of Stark.

[_Seeking to lift her._]

Up, birdling! Here is Shy.

ORNIS

[_Droops, moaning._]

O-rée-o!

SHY

Quick! Bring Quercus.

ALWYN

[_Hastening off._]

In a jot.

SHY

[_Soothingly strokes_ ORNIS’ _arm and shoulder_.]

So—so! Dew water soon makes well. So—so!

ORNIS

[_Moans dazedly._]

Ir-re-o! P’tee!

QUERCUS

[_Reëntering with_ ALWYN.]

Here, master!

SHY

[_Pointing._]

Water!—There!

ALWYN

The bird bath!

QUERCUS

[_Dipping his plant pitcher, hastens with it to_ SHY.]

Coming!

SHY

Sprinkle.

QUERCUS

[_Sprinkling water upon_ ORNIS, _sings gaily_.]

Ó-ree-o! When shawes ben sheen and shraddes full fair, And leaves both large and long, ’Tis merry walking in the fair forést To hear the small birds’ song!

[ORNIS _revives_.]

SHY

[_Assisting her._]

Now, gently!

ALWYN

[_Bending over her, calls low._]

Ornis!—Sister!

ORNIS

_Who_ calls? Where Am I?

ALWYN

In sanctuary. Have no fear.

ORNIS

[_Looking from one to the other._]

Ah, me! But what are these?

SHY

Your brothers, dear.

ORNIS

My brothers—they are birds. But you are Man.

ALWYN

Through Tacita you know us now; we can Speak to each other. Ornis!—Hark.

ORNIS

[_Rising in glad wonder._]

At last!— At last!

ALWYN

A thousand ages—they are past, And dumbness, like a dream, Sinks with them into sleep. We are awake, And each to each Can bid good-morning in our common speech.

ORNIS

How sweet and strange! Are we indeed awaking From callous slumber and old wrong? So sorrowfully long The hand of Man has wrought my birds’ heartbreaking!— Was it a savage dream? Methought I sat on Morning’s golden beam And sang of God’s wild gladness: High and higher I showered His temple woods with ecstasy; When suddenly The earth screamed thunder, and a singeing fire Shattered my wing. I fell.— Groping in flight, my feet stuck fast In smear of lime; swift from below A tangling net was cast Where, panting upward, a black hell Of bloody mouths barked under me; And there beside them—oh, There watched, with eyes of wanton cruelty, A man—bright clothed in many-colored plumes Of my dead sisters. “Save me from their dooms,” I cried, “O Sanctuary!”

ALWYN

And you woke With us, your brothers—healed.

ORNIS

[_With wonder._]

Oh, have you heard What now I spoke? And can we answer truly, word for word?

[_Curiously._]

Alwyn!

ALWYN

You know my name?

ORNIS

[_Turning eagerly from one to the other._]

Shy!

SHY

[_Smiling._]

No mistake!

ORNIS

Quercus!

QUERCUS

[_Skipping with a bow._]

Your birdship’s faun!

ORNIS

[_Laughing joyously._]

Good-morning, brothers!

ALWYN

When have you known us?

ORNIS

Many an age and long! No syllable has bubbled in your song But I have blown it first from yonder trees:

[_To_ SHY.]

No brooding-place of yours—but _I_ was in the breeze;

[_To_ QUERCUS.]

And ever to your whistle I pipe the last note from the nearest thistle.

[TACITA _appears remotely_.]

O beautiful my brothers! O dryad dear, I thank you! In your dawn, How brave it is to speak with Man and Faun As mates and fellows. Quick! Fetch me still others.

[_A crashing resounds in the thicket_. TACITA _disappears_.]

Who’s coming now?

SHY

Still others—our fellow man.

ORNIS

I hear a breaking bough.

ALWYN

Kind hearts and cruel are one clan.

ORNIS

Hark! Surely ’tis some strange distress. Come, brothers, let us look: It may be one who needs our friendliness. Come with me!

ALWYN

[_Calling off scene._]

Stand there! Stay beyond the brook.

QUERCUS

[_With excited gestures._]

Back, ho!

ORNIS

[_Suddenly recoiling with a cry._]

Ah, save me!

[_She flies to their protection_. QUERCUS _also scampers back fearfully, and hides_.]

VII

STARK. ORNIS. ALWYN. SHY.

[_Enter_ STARK, _in garb of a hunter. He wears a tawny leopard’s skin, and his head is gorgeously plumed. Behind him, two panting dogs are held in leash by attendants._ STARK _rushes toward_ ORNIS, _passes her oblivious, and seizes up the fallen bird_.]

STARK

Bagged!—Hold off the dogs!

[_The_ ATTENDANTS _withdraw with the hounds_.]

ORNIS

[_As_ STARK _grasps the bird, clutches her own side in pain_.]

Ee-ó-lo!

STARK

A rare beauty!—Bah, one wing Shot-torn! Well, well, we’ll patch the thing.

Madame La Mode’s a tricksy milliner.

[_He thrusts the bird into his game pouch. Turning to leave, he sees_ ALWYN _and_ SHY, _and greets them gaily_.]

Halloa! Fine hunting weather!

SHY

[_Quietly._]

Sir, Here is _No Hunting_.

STARK

[_With a laugh._]

Pipe that to the frogs!

SHY

This ground is sanctuary.

STARK

And what’s that?

SHY

A place held sacred from the hunter’s trail.

STARK

Why, man, I am no hunter, and that’s flat. I only plume myself—to trim a hat. Besides, I shot outside your pale; And now

[_Touching his pouch, he winks._]

the game is bagged.

SHY

You bag the spangle And lose the spirit.—Sir, here is no place To preach or wrangle Our creeds. I am a student, not a teacher. So I would only learn of you: what joy Urges you to destroy So gracious, fair And innocent a fellow-creature As yonder?

[_He points at_ ORNIS.]

STARK

[_Looking._]

Where?

ALWYN

Our sister, who stands there And dumbly pleads for all her race— And ours.

STARK

By Christ in Hades, My eyes see nothing but a brace Of popinjays, who pipe to me of ladies And show me—no one.

ALWYN

Look more near. Speak to him, Ornis!—Listen, now!

ORNIS

[_Drawing back in dread._]

O-rée-o!

STARK

I am listening.

ALWYN

Did you hear No voice?

STARK

I heard a bird call from that bough.

QUERCUS

[_Peeping toward_ SHY _from the bushes_.]

Have at him, master!

SHY

[_To_ STARK.]

Did you spy That fellow’s horns there, when he drew back Into the bush?

STARK

I saw A stirring in that staghorn sumach, And caught a rabbit’s eye.— What are these crazy quizzings? Pshaw! Good day to you!

ALWYN

Stay yet! Once more look yonder, where my comrade stands, Turning to take the gentle, outreached hands Of our shy sister: Can you see No timid form beside him?

STARK

Perfectly My eyes discern A man, who peers within the morning mist, And murmurs to the air, And smiles, as if he held sweet converse there. In short, I see a sentimentalist. I am not of that ilk. [_Calling_]—Ho, there!—Holá! Wait with my dogs: I’m coming.

ALWYN

Stay, and learn What we ourselves have only learned through quiet Listening. So long, in rampant haste, Your dizzy soul has chased The spinning dollar sign which stars your zodiac, That you have lost the track Of paths serene, and pace God’s world in riot Of blinding gold. Pause, for this little space! Put off that blood-emblazed regalia Gorgeous with death, And draw with me one meditative breath Here in the temple of cool Tacita.

STARK

[_Who has listened with half-amused curiosity._]

Ah—Tacita? And who may that be, friend?

ALWYN

One lovelier than you have yet set eyes on.

SHY

Go, Quercus: Pray our mistress to attend.

[QUERCUS _goes out_.]

STARK

Mistress! Is she a maid?—and lovely, too? And may this wonder dawn on my horizon If I remain?

ALWYN

Remain—to meditate!

STARK

Why, now, you stir my fancies. In truth, ’tis early still, and little to do This hour. Come, I will wait And watch with you. But mind! The nymph must be More lovely than my eyes did ever see!

ALWYN

With loveliness more deep than eyes discover.

STARK

So, ’tis a bargain, then?

ALWYN

Sit by me here; And if your musings cause no fear, You shall behold her in her secret dances.

STARK

By Hercules! I’m half prepared to love her!

[_He sits on the log beside_ ALWYN. ORNIS _still stands apart, under_ SHY’S _protection_. QUERCUS _enters, beckoning backward into the wood_.]

VIII

TACITA. ALWYN. ORNIS. STARK. (SHY. QUERCUS.)

ALWYN

Now, Tacita, shy pagan nymph, appear!

[TACITA _enters from her shrine of greenery, and pauses before them_.]

Spirit, unblind this man! Delusions blur Inward his sight. He is a murderer, Yet knows not he is such. Unseal The fountains of his vision, and reveal Yonder the sister spirit, whom so long His blind heart strove to wrong— Ornis: Reveal, and let him speak with her!

[_Soft music sounds, various and elusive in its rhythmic themes_. TACITA _approaches_ STARK, _and weaves about him a dance of revelation, lulling, charming, luring him by the appeal of numberless wing-swayings and bird-dartings, for which the music suggests the song-notes. During her dance_, STARK _rises, bewildered, and is gradually lured and led by her toward_ ORNIS, _before whom—at the consummation of the dance—he stands, staring_.]

STARK

[_Rising, speaks to the music._]

O twilight—holy dusk—dawn twitterings! How far, how dim and hollow You darkle over me: Wings, wings! swift wings, shy wings, eternal wings! Where shall I follow? Ah, joy—jubilant melody— And morning! Joy—I follow! I dream, and drink from your immortal springs!

[TACITA _disappears_. STARK _beholds_ ORNIS.]

IX

STARK. ORNIS. (ALWYN. QUERCUS. SHY.)

STARK

What _are_ you?

ORNIS

[_Appealing with half-fearful affection._]

Brother!—brother!

STARK

[_With sudden cry and gesture._]

Ha, my net! The shy bird shall be captured ’live!

[_From his shoulder he looses the net, and flings it over_ ORNIS, _seizing the meshes_.]

Now, Joy, I hold you fast!

ORNIS

[_Struggling._]

Ee-ó-lee-o!

SHY

[_Extricating her._]

Not yet!

ALWYN

[_Seizing_ STARK.]

Untamed, and still unshamed! Will you destroy The wings that raise you? Sister, speak to him!

ORNIS

My brothers—all of you! Oh, wage not war Because of me. I fear not. Stark, you dim The brightness of our union, greeting so Your sister.

STARK

[_Dropping his net._]

Sister?

ORNIS

Hunt no more With lime and net: Your love shall hold me faster; For I am Ornis.

STARK

[_Fascinated._]

Ornis!

ORNIS

Dear my master! Do you not know me? I am she Whom first, beneath the dark, ancestral tree, You rose upon your feet to hearken to. By me you grew To song and freedom. Round your olden feasts You watched my circling flights, whereby your priests Proclaimed their omens and their oracles; My cranes announced your victories, my storks Fed your hearth-fires, my silver-throated gulls And golden hawks Saved many your sea-towns from sore pestilence; And my sweet night bird tuned your poets’ shells To lull sad lovers in languorous asphodels; Yet all my influence Shone dimmer than my beauty: my bright plumes Lured you to squander them, till, in the fumes Of greed, your heart forgot to cherish me, And sold me unto death and slavery.— Yet, master, as you will: Lo, I am Ornis, and I love you still!

STARK

[_With altered tone of yearning._]

Yet—yet it seems I never heard your voice Till now; nor ever understood Till now; nor paused, as now in this still wood, To tremble and rejoice At greeting you, my sister. I am stunned, And wait to comprehend this wonder.

ORNIS

Ah, You never prayed before to Tacita! Your feet have shunned Her gracious paths, yet only she Can lead and show my brother Man to me.

STARK

[_Glancing at his gun._]

Why, then,—why have I brought this instrument Of murder here? What black intent Clouded my mind with blood?

[_Flinging it from him._]

Out of my hands!—My sister, can it be That still you soar above my sanguine flood Of passion, and forgive? Though yet I kill, Oh, is it true indeed—you love me still?

ORNIS

Ha, put me to the test! Show me the field that breeds your harvest pest Of chinch or weevil, Where all the blossoms wither with strange evil, Or where, in filmy tents, The hairy creepers gorge in regiments Your budding apple boughs; Show your ancestral elms Gaunt limbed with leprosy, which overwhelms Their green old age in death; Or those swift locust clouds, whose breath Blasts the ripe loveliness of Spring; Show these, and more Than these, and cry on _Ornis_! She shall bring— From hill and shore And plain—her wingèd flocks and warbling broods, And swinge away their deadly multitudes.— If _service_ be true love, I love you, brother.

ALWYN

[_Drawing near._]

And for her sake, so _we_ will love each other.

[_He takes_ STARK’S _right hand_.]

SHY

[_Taking his left._]

A greenwood partnership!

STARK

[_Pressing their hands._]

Thanks!

SHY

[_Whispering to the faun._]

Quercus, run!

QUERCUS

I skip, I gambol, master. Ha! I have a tale to tell to Tacita!

[_He leaps away._]

ORNIS

[_As_ STARK _tears off his headdress of plumes_.]

And those—?

STARK

For these my heart shall build a fire Here at this shrine:

[_He hangs the headdress on a tree._]

And here, as on a pyre, I place them, with this pouch, which hides The victims of my blind desire. There, at sad cost, I let them tell my pain—the votive part Of one long lost, Who now has found himself in nature’s heart.— Ornis, my trail divides: There lie the ashes of the thing I was. Henceforth, I walk with you—

[_Turning to_ ALWYN _and_ SHY.]

and these.

ALWYN

A compact, then, we three: that when we go Forth from these gracious trees Into the world, we go as witnesses Before the men who make our country’s laws, And by our witness show In burning words The meaning of these sylvan mysteries: _Freedom and sanctuary for the birds!_ Say, is our compact sworn?

STARK

I swear.

SHY

And I.

[_Enter_ QUERCUS _and_ TACITA.]

X

TACITA. QUERCUS. STARK. ORNIS. SHY. ALWYN.

STARK

[_To_ ORNIS.]

Look, sister: friends are coming. Now lead us to their shrine close by.

ORNIS

Oh, first let all make joy of this our union! For now my glad heart, like a partridge drumming, Calls for my mates to join us, all together, In frolicsome communion. Ho, Quercus, Quercus, call them!—Tacita, Summon them with your fairy feet!

QUERCUS

[_Bounding forward._]

Holá!

ALWYN

[_Taking from his pouch_ QUERCUS’ _pipe_.]

Call loud and long! Here’s our old pipe, to carry a new song.

[ALWYN _puts the pipe to his lips, while_ QUERCUS _sings to it, calling to the birds. At the end_, QUERCUS _begs in pantomime for the pipe which_ ALWYN, _smiling, restores to him_.]

QUERCUS

Come here, come here, you little comrades coy, From hill and swamp and heather: Make joy, make joy Together!— Tawny beak and scarlet vest, Slant wing and sleek feather, Bulging bill and cocking crest, Hither! Tumble out of nest, Topple out of windy weather Here, holá! With preenings quaint, Purple dyes and crimson paint, Here, holá, in merry state! Up from dew-grass, down from aerie, Tacita—Tacita Summons you to dedicate Here her sanctuary!

[_While_ QUERCUS _calls, from all sides Birds of many species and colors—like_ ORNIS _human in form—gather, and peer from the edges of the scene. To these_ TACITA _now beckons, and by her gesture summons to her dance, while_ QUERCUS _plays joyously on his pipe_.]

ORNIS

Bird and faun and man and fairy, Gather now to sanctuary!

[TACITA _first dances alone, then with_ QUERCUS; _then, inviting and leading them all in pied procession, she marshals all away into her woodland shrine_.]

FINIS

AFTERWORD

In the original production of this masque, referred to in the _Foreword_, the sanctuary stage was devised by MR. JOSEPH LINDON SMITH in two planes—the natural and the supernatural, harmoniously blended.

The natural plane, in the foreground, was a leaf-strewn plot of earth; the supernatural, in the background, was a constructed stage some eighteen inches higher, sloping slightly upward toward the back, covered with smooth canvas, practical for dancing, so painted as to suggest a weathered outcropping of rock, overgrown in places by moss and greensward.

This constructed stage was divided from the foreground earth by the trunk of a felled maple tree, straight in line and inconspicuous in color.

In front of this dividing line, SHY and ALWYN remained always in the natural plane; behind it, ORNIS and TACITA remained always in the supernatural. Their scenes together were enacted near or beside the fallen tree trunk.

In the scene of his conversion, STARK was lured into the higher plane by TACITA; while QUERCUS alone among the characters skipped back and forth from one plane to the other.

As audience, the non-participating spectators sat in dominoes of brown, flanked on either side by the bird-participants in their pied bird costumes. These latter watched the performance until, at the _finale_, they were summoned by QUERCUS upon the constructed stage.

There, when all had been marshalled, entered the CARDINAL BIRD [enacted by MR. HERBERT ADAMS, the sculptor], accompanied by two small scarlet-tanager acolytes [boys], bearing great candles, to light a crimson cushion held by the Cardinal. On the cushion lay an open scroll.

This scroll, itself a sheet of parchment-like paper from the original press of Benjamin Franklin, had been inscribed by MR. STEPHEN PARRISH with a _Sonnet-Epilogue_,

composed by the author of the masque and signed by all of its participants, with their real names opposite the species of birds they severally impersonated.

Moving slowly forward to music till he stood before PRESIDENT and MRS. WILSON, where they sat near the centre of the first row of the audience, the CARDINAL BIRD, with simple dignity, read from the scroll this

EPILOGUE

Addressed to MRS. WOODROW WILSON:

Lady, WHEREAS your gentle patronage And presence have to-night so favored us In this our ritual, that you have thus Lent to our earnest cause a double gage: One gracious daughter to make glad our stage And one to make its theme harmonious With song—whose sire now makes illustrious The larger theatre of our living age:

Therefore, ere yet the privilege be spent Which grants our thoughts the spell of human words, We vow by you, here in this tranquil wood, Our loyal love to him—the President, Whose heart has heard the call of the wild birds,

And sign ourselves

Your Servants, with gratitude.

Having thus presented the scroll, the CARDINAL BIRD with his ACOLYTES retired to the stage, where the final dance and procession of the bird-participants then took place.

The Programme of the performance [omitting that part of the _Prelude_ already printed on pages xix and xx] was as follows:

UNDER THE PATRONAGE OF MRS. WOODROW WILSON AND THE FOLLOWING COMMITTEE

MRS. HERBERT ADAMS MRS. C. C. BEAMAN ERNEST HAROLD BAYNES KENYON COX PERCY MACKAYE MAXFIELD PARRISH CHARLES A. PLATT MRS. GEORGE RUBLEE LOUIS EVAN SHIPMAN JOSEPH LINDON SMITH MRS. AUGUSTUS SAINT-GAUDENS

MEMBERS OF THE MERIDEN BIRD CLUB JOIN WITH RESIDENTS OF CORNISH, NEW HAMPSHIRE, AND THEIR FRIENDS, TO PRESENT A MASQUE IN THE INTEREST OF AMERICAN WILD BIRD PROTECTION

PRELUDE

SONG “THE HERMIT THRUSH”

SUNG BY MISS MARGARET WILSON

THE SONG COMPOSED BY FREDERICK S. CONVERSE TO WORDS BY ARVIA MACKAYE, WHO ENACTS THE PART OF THE LITTLE GIRL

MERIDEN, NEW HAMPSHIRE: SEPTEMBER 12, 1913

SANCTUARY

A BIRD MASQUE

BY PERCY MACKAYE

PERFORMED UNDER THE FOLLOWING DIRECTION

STAGE PRODUCTION BY JOSEPH LINDON SMITH DANCING BY JULIET BARRETT RUBLEE ORIGINAL MUSIC BY FREDERICK S. CONVERSE PROPERTIES BY WILLIAM HOWARD HART PROGRAMME DESIGN BY KENYON COX

PERSONS IN THE MASQUE

IN THE ORDER OF THEIR APPEARANCE

QUERCUS FAUN JOSEPH LINDON SMITH ALWYN POET PERCY MACKAYE SHY NATURALIST ERNEST HAROLD BAYNES TACITA DRYAD JULIET BARRETT RUBLEE ORNIS BIRD SPIRIT ELEANOR WILSON STARK PLUME HUNTER WITTER BYNNER ATTENDANT LEONARD COX

EPILOGUE

THE CARDINAL BIRD HERBERT ADAMS FIRST ACOLYTE ROBIN MACKAYE SECOND ACOLYTE PAUL SAINT-GAUDENS

BIRD PARTICIPANTS IN PANTOMIME