Part 2

_He raises his hand, and the kneeling_ MAIDEN _at her mistress’s feet cowers as if expecting a blow. The_ MINSTREL _and the_ MAN _each take a step forward, the_ MAN _with clenched hands; but the_ BARON _carries his hand to his head and strokes his hair_.

LADY EDYTH. Forgive the maid, baron. She is a good wench and truly skillful.

BARON. There is nothing, there is nobody I would not forgive an’ thou asked it, my fair lady. (_Turning to_ MAIDEN.) And now, stupid one, up and fetch a stool for the minstrel.

_The_ MAIDEN _obeys, while the_ BARON _seats himself beside_ LADY EDYTH.

BARON (_turning to the_ MINSTREL). And now, sir, we are ready to hear thy ballad.

_The_ MINSTREL _advances to the seat the_ MAIDEN _has placed for him. As he passes her, with a low bow, he hands her the distaff which he has picked from the floor._

LADY EDYTH (_aside to the_ BARON). Marry, but thy minstrel has right courtly manners!

BARON (_aside to_ LADY EDYTH). He comes here direct from the court.

MINSTREL (_standing before_ LADY EDYTH, _bowing very low_). I am at thy service, my lady.

LADY EDYTH. Talk not of _service_, O minstrel; it is pleasure thou bringest, I know. Most welcome art thou, for dearly love I all ballads. Pray be seated and favor us with thy rhymes.

_With another low bow the_ MINSTREL _seats himself on the stool placed before_ LADY EDYTH’S _and the_ BARON’S _chairs. While he unslings his instrument and makes ready, the_ MAIDEN _seals herself and resumes her spinning. The_ MAN _watches the_ MINSTREL _with eager, longing eyes. As the lay is chanted, he is visibly affected. He forgets his work, he forgets his station, and, as if lured by the rhyme, creeps nearer and nearer._ LADY EDYTH _and the_ BARON _are unconscious of the effect of the minstrelsy on the_ MAN _as the backs of their chairs are toward his position_.

MINSTREL. I will recite for you, my lord and lady, the lay of Thomas Rhymer.

“True Thomas lay on grassy bank, And he beheld a lady gay, A lady that was brisk and bold, Came riding o’er the fernie brae.

“Her skirt was o’ the grass-green silk, Her mantle o’ the velvet fine; And on the locks o’ her horse’s mane Hung fifty silver bells and nine.

“True Thomas he took off his cap, And bowèd low down on his knee: ‘All hail thou, mighty Queen of Heaven For thy peer on earth could never be.’

“‘Oh no, oh no, True Thomas,’ she said, ‘That name does not belong to me; I am but the queen of fair Elfland, That am hither come to visit thee.

“‘Now, ye must go with me,’ she said; ‘True Thomas, ye must go with me; And ye must serve me seven years, Through weal or woe as chance may be.’

“She turned about her milk-white steed; She took True Thomas up behind, And aye, whene’er her bridle rang, The steed flew swifter than the wind.

“O they rode on, and farther on, The steed flew swifter than the wind; Until they reached a desert wide, And living land was left behind.

“‘Now light ye down, True Thomas,’ she said, ‘And lean your head upon my knee, Abide ye there a little space, And I will show you wonders three.

“‘O see ye not yon narrow road, So thick beset with thorns and briers? That is the Path of Righteousness, Though after it but few inquires.

“‘And see ye not you braid, braid road, That lies across the lily leven? That is the path of wickedness, Though some call it the “Road to Heaven.”

“‘And see ye not yon bonny road, That winds about the fernie brae? That is the Road to fair Elfland, Where thou and I must go this day.

“‘But, Thomas, ye must hold your tongue, Whatever ye may hear or see; For speak ye word in Elfin Land, Ye’ll ne’er get back to your ain countrie.’

“O they rode on, and farther on, And they waded rivers above the knee; And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of the sea.

“Syne they came to a garden green, And she pulled an apple from a tree: ‘Take this for thy wages, True Thomas; It will give thee tongue that can never lee.’

“He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, And a pair of shoes of velvet green, And till seven years were past and gone True Thomas on earth was never seen.”

_By the time the_ MINSTREL _has reached the last stanza of the ballad, the_ MAN _has advanced until he now stands directly back of_ LADY EDYTH’S _chair_.

MAN. Bravo! Bravo! Oh, what would not I be willing to give if only I might write--or even read--such lays as that!

_The_ BARON _and_ LADY EDYTH _are startled at hearing a voice so close_.

BARON. (_Starting to his feet in a rage, he makes a mad rush for the servant, belabors him, and throws him to the floor._) How darest thou comport thyself thus in the presence of thy betters! Write lays! read lays! What is the world coming to, forsooth, when every lazy churl aspires to lift himself from the station in which he was born!

_He advances threateningly toward the_ MAN, _but the_ MAIDEN _rushes between and, falling on her knees, raises her hands in pleading_. _The_ BARON _stops_. LADY EDYTH _leaves her chair and advances toward the_ BARON, _as if to intercede, but he does not see her_.

BARON. Out of my way, wench! I will have him flayed alive for his insolence! I will have him thrown into prison! I will--

MINSTREL (_interrupting_). Thou shalt do him no ill.

LADY EDYTH _and the_ MAIDEN, _still on her knees, and the_ MAN, _who has raised himself until he reclines on an elbow, look to the_ MINSTREL _with various expressions on their faces_: LADY EDYTH’S _look is one of wonder, and fear for the consequence of his words; the servants’ faces express fear and a glimmer of hope_.

BARON (_astounded_). What? What? By what right darest thou thus address me?

MINSTREL. By the right granted by the King. Thou art far from London, and so methinks have not heard the news. Over a fortnight ago King John signed the Magna Charta.

BARON (_forgetting his rage in a desire to hear all_). Tell on.

MINSTREL. The barons compelled him to sign the charter granting civil liberty.

BARON. Yes, granting greater liberty to us--the barons. Now more firmly may we deal with such upstarts as this varlet. I will--

MINSTREL (_again interrupting_). Hold! The rights and the privileges granted to the barons are extended to their vassals. Listen to these lines.

_As the_ MINSTREL _speaks, he draws the scroll from his belt and unrolls it. While he reads, the light burns brighter._

MINSTREL (_reading_). “No freeman shall be taken, or imprisoned, or dispossessed, or outlawed, or banished, or in any way destroyed; nor will we pass upon him, nor commit him, but by the lawful judgment of his peers, or by the law of the land.

“To no man will we sell, to none will we delay, to none will we deny, right or justice.”

Thou seest, baron, it is for all men!

MAN (_rising slowly to his feet_). “For all men.” And I am a man!

CURTAIN

EDUCATION _and_ ANY CITY _appear before the curtain_.

ANY CITY. I am wondering if the book--the learning for which he hungered--was placed in the hand of the serf even after a more democratic government was established.

EDUCATION. No, not _put_ into his hands; but he might reach forth his hands and take, and no man deny him. Come, I will show you two pictures: the first, the book in feudal times, the second, the book in a democracy.

_Exit_ EDUCATION _and_ ANY CITY.

SEVENTH GLIMMER: THE BOOK

FIRST PICTURE: _A high reading-desk to which a book is chained. The light feebly burns above._

SECOND PICTURE: ABRAHAM LINCOLN, _the boy, reading close to the light of the fire. The light of education burns brightly above his head._

_The curtain is dropped for a moment between the two tableaux._

_When the curtain is lowered after the pictures_, EDUCATION _and_ ANY CITY _again appear before it_.

ANY CITY (_speaking as if continuing a conversation begun behind the curtain_). But the chained book is but a symbol!

EDUCATION. No, it is a pictured fact. The book was so chained during the Dark Ages.

ANY CITY (_with satisfied manner_). Well, thank fortune that we live in a democracy, where anyone who wants it may have learning.

EDUCATION. Congratulate yourself not on that fact. How many Abraham Lincolns, think you, are in this land to-day--boys who will travel miles of rough road in stormy weather and work at hard labor for weeks, for the privilege of reading a book? The few such give us no care. They mould their own future. But can we allow the millions of less ambitious young citizens, the lawmakers of the future, to go without the education they so sorely need, but never would secure through their own efforts? No! No! No! “The Spirit of Democracy is the fruit of Education.” And he who in any way curtails the opportunities for the education of American boys and girls is working directly against the Spirit of Democracy.

_As_ EDUCATION _speaks the last sentence, her light plays on the paper_. ANY CITY _raises it as if to toss it away, but reconsiders his action and places it out of sight_.

ANY CITY. But I still maintain that things are made too easy for the children of the present day. They should be forced to learn as they were in the past.

EDUCATION. Have you ever seen “forced learning” in operation?

ANY CITY. No, but I know it is good for children to be forced into right ways at times.

EDUCATION. Come with me into the past and see Force at work.

ANY CITY. No, I really don’t care to.

EDUCATION. To paraphrase your own words, “It is good for a _city_ to be forced into right ways at times.” Now is such a time for you. Come!

EDUCATION _leads the reluctant_ ANY CITY _behind the curtain_.

EIGHTH GLIMMER: FORCE

A DAME SCHOOL

THE DAME _(teacher) is a sour-looking old woman. She wears side curls and a high comb, a kerchief and hoop-skirt. Her voice is loud and rasping._

_The pupils in old-fashioned costume--boys in long trousers and short jackets, girls in full long skirts and plain bodices and aprons--are seated on benches made by placing boards on two wooden horses or other supports. There is no rest for the pupils’ backs; the feet of the shorter children swing above the floor. The boys are seated on one side, the girls on the other. A boy with a high peaked cap, on which the word “Dunce” is printed, stands on a stool at one side of the room. A little girl stands on a stool on the other side. About her neck is hung a placard on which is written, “I brought my puppet to school.” Her puppet, a rag doll, lies at her feet._

THE DAME _carries a switch in her left hand. A bundle of switches lies on her table. On the middle finger of her right hand she wears a great brass thimble. Whenever a child is reprimanded or punished, the other pupils laugh as if enjoying the discomfiture of a class-mate, thus showing the worst influence of the teacher in the lives of her pupils._

_As the curtain goes up, the_ DAME _is speaking to the girl who brought her puppet to school_.

DAME. Thou hast stood on the stool now for thirty minutes--time enough for thee to repent. Sit thou now on the stool for another thirty minutes as an example to others.

_Child obeys, crying. She lifts her apron to wipe her eyes._

DAME. Put down thine apron at once. (_Sarcastically._) Wouldst cover thy beautiful placard? Let us all see thy shamed face and thy repentant tears. They are a sign of grace.

_While she is talking, a little girl whispers behind her book to another._ DAME _spies her_.

DAME. So, thou canst not keep thy mouth closed without help, Susie Gray? Well, I’ll help thee!

_She takes a large handkerchief from table and ties it over child’s mouth._

DAME. Now go back to thy place! Next time, I will paste thy mouth shut.

_She raps child over the head with her thimble, and_ SUSIE _goes weeping to her seat_.

_While the_ DAME _is disciplining_ SUSIE, _a boy reaches out his foot and draws the rag doll toward him. He has all but secured it when the_ DAME _discovers him_.

DAME. So, Johnny Green, thou likest the puppet, too. Well, I think we will let thee play with it for a while. Bring it to me. (_Boy comes sheepishly forward, carrying the doll by a leg._) Nay, that’s not the way to hold thy dear puppet. Take it in thine arms, so! (_To girl on stool._) Bring thy placard here. Here is one who needs it more than thou. (_She removes the placard from about the girl’s neck and hangs it about the boy’s._) Now take thy place on the stool, that we may all see how well thou canst hold thy baby.

_As the boy takes his place, the other children snicker. The owner of the doll giggles with them, until she sees the boy slyly tear a leg from the doll. Then she begins to weep, but is afraid to tell the_ DAME _of the boy’s act_.

DAME (_to boy in dunce-cap_). Come here, little dunce, and see if thou knowest thy lesson now.

_Boy climbs from stool and takes position before_ DAME, _with hands folded behind him_.

DAME. Spell _joy_.

BOY. G-o-y, joy.

DAME. Back to thy stool, and stay there until thou hast learned thy words.

BOY (_retreats toward stool, then turns at bay_). An thou keepst me on the stool for a week, I cannot learn my lesson without a book!

DAME. Insolence! Come to me and I will teach thee respect to thine elders.

_As the boy comes slowly toward her and her upraised switch, she detects another boy holding his slate so that a girl may see a picture he has drawn of the_ DAME. _She pounces upon him, while she waves the dunce to one side. The dunce takes advantage of her preoccupation with the second boy, to seize a book and study half-aloud, “joy, j-o-y,” before resuming his place on the stool._

DAME (_ignoring picture of herself, speaking sarcastically to young artist_). Oho, so he wants the girls to see how clever he is! He would like to amuse the girls! Go, then, and sit with the girls.

SECOND BOY. I don’t want to. I’d rather take a whipping.

DAME. Oh, be not so modest as to ask but _one_ punishment. Thou shalt have it _after_ your pleasant visit to the girls’ bench. Take thy place in the middle, little girl-boy.

_The girls crowd together, to make as much room for the boy as possible as he takes his place in the middle of their bench._

DAME (_to boy on stool_). Now, dunce, come here. (_Boy advances and stands before her._) Spell _joy_.

BOY. J-o-y, joy.

DAME. Take thy seat. Have thy lesson to-morrow or--(_Holds up switch and shakes it._)

_As the boy goes to his seat, he “makes a face” at the_ DAME, _which she cannot see, but which is enjoyed by his classmates_.

DAME. The first class in reading will now come forward. The rest will sit with folded arms as a punishment for the disorder in this school to-day. And let me see no one talking or swinging his feet, or it will go ill with him. I have a fine new bundle of switches itching to be used.

CURTAIN

EDUCATION _and_ ANY CITY _appear before the curtain_.

ANY CITY. A very much exaggerated picture. I am sure that children never were so tortured in school.

EDUCATION. An exact picture of Dame Weary’s school in Colonial days. And you have not seen half the tortures inflicted on her hapless pupils as recorded in authentic records. When force rules, a despot reigns, and a despot can beget naught but despotism. The strong bullies; the sly escapes; the unscrupulous gathers the spoils. There is no foundation laid for a true brotherhood of man. In short, there is nothing in the teaching or in the discipline in a school of force that fitly trains pupils as present and future citizens of a democracy.

ANY CITY. No, not in the school you have just shown me. But what of the little red schoolhouses? There we had true training. The pupils were not helped over-much. They had to solve their own problems. Those pupils could spell. Think of the good old-time spelling-matches! They could recite the orations of America’s great men. Those little red schoolhouses turned out scholars and patriots.

EDUCATION. All honor to the splendid men and women, teachers in the little red schoolhouses of the past! Far be it from me to decry in any way their work. But, methinks, the ruddy glow of the exterior and the mellowing influence of time have thrown a warm glow over the cold hard facts concerning the work that was carried on in the interior of these buildings. And, even if the little red schoolhouse was all that fancy has painted it, it has served its time; it is as inadequate to the work of training the boys and girls of to-day as are the primitive stones to the task of grinding wheat for the people of America in the twentieth century. You say that the little red schoolhouse turned out patriots. The first of these schools were built by English-speaking people who sought civil, religious, and educational freedom. They built their fort, their meeting-house, and their school at the same time. I tell you, the little red schoolhouse _received_ patriots, patriots bred in democratic principles. Our schools to-day receive people speaking many languages, bred in ideals far removed from those of a republic. When you speak of the schools of the past, you think of the best; when you speak of the schools of to-day, you speak as if you knew only the worst. How long is it since you actually visited a real American public school?

ANY CITY (_embarrassed_). Why, I--really--I must confess that I have not visited a school since I was a pupil. I left when I was in the sixth-grade.

EDUCATION (_with light shining on tax paper_). And you presume to pass on present day educational needs with a hazy idea of what education has wrought in the past, and absolutely no knowledge of what she is accomplishing to-day?

ANY CITY _shows signs of embarrassment and discomfiture, but does not answer_.

EDUCATION. Come with me. We will visit a sixth-year grade of to-day.

EDUCATION _leads_ ANY CITY _behind curtain_.

NINTH GLIMMER: TRAINING FOR DEMOCRACY

_The light bums brightly over a modern schoolroom. The pupils are seated in chairs or at movable desks, well grouped._ MISS WHITE, _the teacher, is seated near her desk, or table, which is neatly arranged and is brightened by some flowers_. _She is dressed in a pretty, serviceable frock, with white collar and cuffs. She wears well-fitted, medium-heeled shoes. Her hair is neatly and becomingly coiled. All her movements are graceful but thoroughly alive. Her voice is pleasing and her articulation is perfect. In dress, voice, and movements, the pupils reflect the teacher’s influence._

_An elderly gentleman is visiting the school. When the curtain is raised, he is standing beside a chair near the teacher and is speaking to seven boys and girls standing in line. He holds a paper containing a list of words in his hand._

VISITOR. I congratulate you, young people. The list of words I gave you in the spelling-match just ended, is the very list that was given over a hundred years ago in a spelling-match held in the town hall of a New England village. Pupils from two district schools took part in the contest, and the hall was crowded with their friends and relatives. At the close of the match everybody was spelled down but one boy, Hiram Edwards, afterwards a famous preacher. At the end of our match to-day, we have seven girls and boys still standing. I congratulate you more once.

_The pupils bow and return to their seats._

VISITOR. Miss White, this is my first visit to a schoolroom in ten years. I am interested in the modern methods of education. May I ask you a few questions?

MISS WHITE (_who has risen to her feet on being addressed by her elderly visitor_). Certainly. My pupils and I will gladly answer all the questions we can.

_A questioning smile of the teacher’s is answered by assenting smiles from the pupils._

VISITOR. What are the pupils doing in geography?

MISS WHITE. Will someone answer our visitor?

_Several pupils rise._

MISS WHITE (_choosing_). Mary.

MARY (_looking straight at_ VISITOR). To-day we are to show whether or not Argentina is a progressive country.

VISITOR. Aren’t you going to take just what your geography says? That’s what we did when I went to school.

MARY. Yes, but we want to know more than our geography tells before we can decide.

VISITOR. Bless me! I don’t see how you’re going to get anywhere. Suppose half of you say Argentina isn’t a progressive country, and the other half say it is, and the geography says nothing--who is going to decide?

MARY. Oh, we must all prove our statements, show our authority. (_Taking up a book and looking around._) See, we all have reference books. (_Other pupils produce books which they hold up._) They are all different.

VISITOR (_walking over and peering at titles through glasses_). Different! So they are--as different as our way of studying geography from one book in the past. Well! Well! What are you doing in arithmetic?

_Again several pupils stand._

VISITOR (_choosing one_). You tell me, young man.

PUPIL. We are working problems in percentage. I am on page 201.

VISITOR. And where are the others, pray?

_Pupils stand and answer in turn at nod from visitor._

FIRST PUPIL. I am working on page 199.

SECOND PUPIL. I am working on page 204.

THIRD PUPIL. I am working on page 200.

VISITOR. My! This is as bad as a district school! All working on different pages!

MISS WHITE (_to_ FIRST PUPIL). Tom, will you please tell our visitor how we study arithmetic?

TOM. Miss White explained what percentage is, that it is a sort of other name for decimal fractions, and the problems can be worked just like common or decimal fractions. Then we work them. That’s all. I’d have been farther, only I got stuck on the eighth problem on page 197. But I finally worked it all right. And now I am just sailing along.

VISITOR. Good for you! Good for every one of you! I like the child or the man who solves his problems independently. I had an idea that nowadays teachers did the real work and pupils only copied it. That’s what I’ve been told.

_Pupils look bewildered for a second, then, thinking this an attempt at a joke, laugh._

VISITOR. When I was a boy, we used to speak pieces on Friday afternoons. I liked best to recite bits of patriotic speeches. Do any of you know Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address? (_Most of the class stand._) Bless me! So many!

MISS WHITE. If you would like to hear one of my pupils recite it, choose your orator.

VISITOR. I think I’d like to hear this little chap speak those great words of a great man.

GEORGE, _the boy chosen, comes to the front of the room and recites_.

ADDRESS AT THE DEDICATION OF THE GETTYSBURG NATIONAL CEMETERY

Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.