Class. k.. Gopyiiglitl?, s^ CSPmiGaT DEPosm American Dramatists Series The Play of Life In Seven Acts "All the world is a stage, And all the men and women merely players ; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages." — Shakespeare : "As You Like It." BY ALTA FLORENCE ARMSTRONG BOSTON THE GORHAM PRESS MCMXVII Copyright, 1917, by Alta F. Armstrong All Rights Reserved The Gorham Press, Boston, U.S.A. FEB 17 1917 )G!,D 46159 TO MY MOTHER ^^ Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law. Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw; Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight. A little louder, hut as empty quite; Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage, Aftd beads and prayer-books are the toys of age; Pleased with this bauble still, as that before; Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er." — "An Essay on Man" — Pope. PROEM THE WORLD, A STAGE: MAN, THE ACTOR. In the beginning, the Omnipotent gave the won- derful, interesting, beautiful WORLD as a magical stage for the Play of "Life" to be acted. Later, he gave MAN, the Actor in the Play of "Life": Even as you, — even as every Man has been given to act his part. Seven distinct Age Acts there are in the complete Play of "Life." No complete "Life" drama has less. No Play of "Life" has more. All of Life's Ages are in them. It has never mattered, and it will never matter, when Man lived, where he lived, what color, who he was, or what he did: These Seven Ages are acted out in a full drama of "Life" — always, on the same old, broad, wonderful stage of the WORLD, — in the days that were, in our days, — in the days that are to be! And so you act your part, and I act mine: You in your way, I in mine, — even as ancient man acted his part, future man will act his part, — always: "His acts being seven Ages." "One generation passeth aiuay, and another generation Cometh: but the earth abideth forever" — Eccl., i:4. 'All the world's a stage' "All the loorld's a stage, And all the men and 'women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant. Mewing and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the ivhining school-boy, ivith his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard. Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel. Seeking the bubble reputation Even at the cannon's mouth. And then the justice. In fair round belly with good capon lined. With eyes severe and beard of formal cut. Full of ivise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon. With spectacles on nose and pouch on side. His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice. Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And 'whistles in his sound. Last scene of all. That ends this strange eventful history. Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything." — Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 7 am the vine, ye are the branches." —John, 15:5. "ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE "And all the men and luomen merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts. His acts being seven ages." THE STAR OF LIFE'S PLAY. First Age: "The infant, Meiuing and puking in the nurse's arms." Second Age: "The ivhining school-boy, nvith his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unnvillingly to school." Third Age: "The lover. Sighing like furnace, ivith a ivoeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow." Fourth Age: "A soldier. Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard. Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel. Seeking the bubble reputation Even at the cannon's mouth." Fifth Age: "The justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined. With eyes severe and beard of formal cut. Full of wise saws and modern instances." Sixth "Age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon. With spectacles on nose and pouch on side. His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound." Last Age of all: "That ends this strange eventful history. Is second childishness and mere oblivion. Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything." 'All the world's a stage' THE PLAY OF LIFE Programme Time: Past, Present, Future. Place: The Stage of the World. Cast: The Nazarene: Star of "Life." Man : The Actor. Manager : The Omnipotent. 'For me kind nature ivakes her genial povier, Suckles each herb, and spreads out every floiver; Annual for me, the grape, the rose, reneiu The juice nectareous and the balmy deiv; For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings; For me, health gushes from a thousand springs; Seas roll to ivaft me, suns to light me rise; My footstool earth, my canopy the skies." — Pope: "Essay on Man." "I am the ivay, and the truth, and the life: no man Cometh unto the Father, but by me." — John, 14.: 6. THE PLAY OF LIFE "^All the world's a stage' — Shakespeare: "As You Like It" The World as a Stage invites, fascinates, inspires Man to Life's activities. The World, so wondrous in its mystic grandeur, its beauty, its loveliness, its marvelous ensemble of nature, its myriad forms of life, its extravagant scenic wonder, furnishes innumerably fashioned stage settings for Man's wonderful, individual Play of "Life." The whimsical and fantastic mood of Dame Na- ture, when she moulded, folded, grooved, watered, painted, perfumed, lighted and shadowed this gor- geous region for Man's play-ground, truly appeased all desires of Man. The Omnipotent, in his won- drous generosity, made the Stage — j^ours and mine, an Annex to Heaven ! The arena for "Life's" panorama is from the East to the West; the North to the South, even in the aeronautic realm above and in the deep, dark caverns of the earth, while a few play their part on the pearly, coral bed of the ocean deep. 'Tis a Hippo- drome for untiring, advancing, adventurous Man ; a 13 "All the world's a stage' setting for every actor, whatsoever his individual in- clination may be. To adequately convey the least conception of the sumptuousness of the maze of splendor, Nature, in her lavish mood, poured out of her cornucopia of inexhaustible beauties on this broad stage, "it would require a quill pen from one of the most gorgeous hued birds that ever lived, dipped in a fluid of con- centrated mixture of a thousand selected rainbows," dissolved in millions of variegated smiling blossoms^ delicately tinted by hundreds of exquisitely colored sunsets: All this — and more, to give the slightest pen analysis of the bountiful floriculture array that drapes the globe in royal garment. Taking a panoramic view, we find spreading over the center of the World Stage that unfolds before man, a carpet of velvety emerald, shadowed and color-toned by the everchanging season's thermome- ter. This green expanse, figured in varied vegeta- tion designs, as unexpected and numerous as the grain of veneer wood, sufiice to excite constant ad- miration and anticipation. This tropical carpet of huge dimension, spreading out as plain, rolling hills and rumpled mountains, has promiscuous lake-rugs of crystal clearness that mirror their borders of multi-colored mosses and flowers, as if to send forth to our heavenly neighbors a reflected picture of our Setting Sublime! Spreading sheets of shimmering sand, here and there on the broad World Stage carpet, shine in jewel radiance like the blazing Sa- hara Solitaire that sparkles on the earth's equatorial ring. 14 'All the zvorld's a stage" This highly colored carpet is bordered by the wrinkled, misty ocean of generous spreading ex- panse. Its creeping fringe of waves interweave into the green expanse, making one immense world-rug. By art's supreme touch this rug is fitly finished on either end by a beautiful, broad, snow-white fringe, — and these ice-fringe threads that trail to the extreme limit of the platform, north and south, are made paths by Man! The roof rising high above Man's stage is an immeasurable vault of mystery, forming architec- ture's perfect dome, kaleidoscopic in splendor, — from blustering dark storm clouds to the prismatic display of sunset's daintiest tints. It is an arched roof draped in festoons of velvet clouds; studded by millions of twinkling incandescent lights, that peep at Man through waving banners of mist, — with the Solar luminary swinging across the arch, — a chandelier of radiance. "Hoiv beautiful is earth! my starry thoughts Look down on it from their unearthly sphere, And sing symphonious — Beautiful is earth! The lights and shadows of her myriad hills: The branching greenness of her myriad woods; Her sky-affecting rocks; her zoning sea; Her rushing, gleaming cataracts; her streams That race below, the winged clouds on high; Her pleasantness of vale and meadow!" — Mrs. Browning. With such an array of Glory above Man, of which one glimpse at the sublime envoys of na- ture's beauty should be sufficient to inspire him to 15 'All the world's a stage' aspire to Life's highest activities, it seems impossible to favor him, in his brief visit, vv^ith more, — yet, the bowl of beauty is made to run over, when on fes- tival occasions a brilliant rainbow is ushered out: an arched window into Paradise. And to each Man, the veil back of the "Rainbow Arch" will rise, — the final curtain. i6 'All the world's a stage' "And all the men and ivomen merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages." —Shakespeare: "As You Like It." Man, the Actor. How wonderful is he, to be so bountifully fa- vored with such sublime Stage Settings ! Consider the minute, accurate perfection of the multifarious variety of Stage detail; the unob- structed course of the light beam in its years and years and years of travel, the countless complex mineralogical formations, the aroma of every flower, the flavor of fruit, the music of nature, the mould- ing of the icicle, the freshness of the dew-drop. Let imagination roam back, back ages upon ages, and dwell on the millions and millions of years that gave the "Nebular Hypothesis" to decorate the roof of Man's Stage in a fiery mist of mystery; the cen- turies upon centuries involved in unfolding the Om- nipotent's wonderful laws; the myriad years of de- veloping geology, in preparing the incomprehensible grandeur and perfection vested in the Stage of the World, to serve, only, as a back-ground for Man, — the perfect fruit of God's evolution; the highest conception of God on earth! 17 "All the world's a stage' "Floiver in the crannied ivall, I pluck you out of the crannies; — Hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flonver — but if I could understand JVhat you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know ivhat God and Man is." — Tennyson. Look further, and ponder on Man's capability of wondrous thought that leaps out into the immeas- urable, mysterious realms that surround him; the serene communion that is perpetual within him, — a seething of far-reaching ideas, — comprehensive, practical and reverential, mathematically proving his every thought and act! Man, who thrills with the emotions of joy; who is depressed by fear and grief; who radiates love, — all governed by his individual will! We may then justly wonder at the incredible mar- vel of Man, however low his state, for through the veil of mystery that floats around evolution's "Miss- ing Link" may be seen the divine ember that is lit in Man by the eternal fires. "God keeps his holy mysteries Just on the outside of man's dreams; In diapason sloiu, ive think To hear their pinions rise and sink, While they float pure beneath his eyes. Like snvans adown a stream." — Mrs. Broivning : "Human Life's Mystery." Man thus enters on the Stage at his given time, to play his role in "Life," accepting the precarious- ness of his stay to participate in the "Seven Ages." i8 "All the u'orld's a stage" "Through the ages one increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are ividened ivith the process of the suns." — Tennyson. He realizes, that whether he makes his debut early or late in the lengthy play, that his part is impor- tant; that of all the actors who preceded, or will follow, he is identified in the caste as the only Alan to act the part assigned him by the Omnipotent Manager; that there never was, nor never will be, another Man exactly like him, for he is a link in the chain of the caste of men in "Life" ! "O dear Spirit half-lost In thine oivn shadoiu and this fleshly sign That thou art thou — to//o ivaitest being born And hanish'd into mystery, and the pain Of this di-visible-indi'visible nj.wrld Among the numerable-innumerable Sun, sun, and sun, thro' finite-infinite space In finite -infinite time — our mortal 'veil And shatter'd phantom of that infinite One, Who made thee unconceivably thyself Out of His ivhole World-self and all in all — Lime thou, and of the grain and husk, the grape And ivyberry, choose; and still depart From death to death thro' life and life, and find Nearer and ever nearer Him ivho ivrought Not Matter, nor the finite-infinite But this main miracle, that thou art thou. With poiver on thine own act and on the ivorld." — Tennyson. Intellectual, rational and mortal man, a phe- nomenon of mind and matter, with his inexplicable 19 "All the world's a stage' language, sleep, emotions, dreams, conscience, sex, we cannot analyze: rather, we tell what Man does than what he is. Libraries are full of historical records of the activities of man, playing his part, in his time, since the rising of "Life's" curtain. Each Man, in his turn, appearing in the consecutive Age Scenes, governed by the same rule of develop- ment. Each man a link in the woven mesh of "Life," striving ever to play his assigned role effi- ciently, and thus contribute his part to the climax of the Play of "Life": To Live^ Love and Hope! Man, who has leaped thus far, may then ponder on his realm — back of the "Rainbow Arch" ! "The Ponver that hands the Rainbow in the shy — Pledge of his constant care — Dost paint tlie beauty of the Crimson dye; He hides thy treasures there." 20 THE STAR OF "LIFE" The Nazarene Of all the stars in earth's constellation Or shine in glorious wide arch of heav'n, 'Tis He, who on the lost earth stage Life's realm Entered, the Star Divine at Bethlehem ; The Nazarene, who, in God's brief full time Entered into Life's every Age and clime, Encompassing all roles of Life on earth Giving quintessential grace to Life's worth. For the infant found on Life's lonely stage We have the New Bethlehem Manger Babe; For the boy in his eager search for truth. There is the wisdom revealed in Christ's youth. The Actor in Life's bright garden of love Is o'ershadowed by His Grace from above: Christ in battle for Man's eternal Life Set the world standard for upholding right, And the justice of His power divine Has been Man's Life long task just to define. Shorn by toil, physical strength may decline Still with hope to complete Life's divine plan, Age is cherished. Life is panegyrized Till the rising curtain to Paradise. Not a throb of Man's Life but Christ the King Rules in all Life's problems on earth supreme; 21 'All the world's a stage' Be they inwove in places high or low^ Christ the Star Illuminative may go And plant hope and faith in tired human hearts And lead them up to higher thoughts and lives. All salient aspects of human Man, Whatever be his time, place or race clan. May turn to the Nazarene Star for light. E'en far ignorant Man errs in the night. The perfect, spotless, sinless Star of "Life" Bore in Gethsemane Life's sorrow strife. And entered Death's dark gloom at Calvary To give Man the hope resurrection ray Of infinite truth of Man's salvation. For eternal Life's emancipation. — Alia Florence Armstrong. "When the fullness of the time came, God sent forth His Son, born of woman, born under the laia, That He might redeem them that laere under the laiv, that we might receive the adoption of sons." — Galatians, 4: 4-5. 22 SCENE I FIRST AGE "The infant, Mewing and puking in the nurse's arms." — Shakespeare: "As You Like It." Programme Time: Past, Present, Future. Cast: "The Infant." Scene: Fairyland on the World Stage. Lighting: Radiance of Dawn. Orchestra: (Heard in the distance.) Choral by Angels. Gentle Zephyrs hum; Birds sing. Stage Supervisor: The Nurse (Mother). Manager: The Omnipotent. Supporting the "Star of Life" The Nazarene 23 SCENE I FIRST AGE "The infant, Mewing and puking in the nurse's arms." — Shakespeare: "As You Like It." All is dark. At the peep of morn, just before the veil of night is lifted^ distant melodies float in across the stage, yet heavily shadowed, as if shrouded in a blanket of darkness, — submissive to the entrance of its su- perior — Man. Presently, in unison with a silver throated chorus far away, a shaft of delicate golden light penetrates the dark veil as a beacon of an- nouncement to the waiting stage! Then, while Angels bombard the stage with golden arrows, tipped with dew-drop jewels, the lips of Morn, in bird chanted song, seem happy to send in with the drift- ing zephyrs, to the staid, sleeping old World, a serenade of flute notes^ full of freshness, glory and might, while, in the Eastern wing of the stage, the Angels engage in meditation over the gift that is to be made for a season to the World. So, with the musical message and light that flashes forth in veiled solemnity, we discover our Hero, — a dainty, dimpled, diminutive pearl of purity, 25 'All the world's a stage' ushered by God's Angels on the Stage of the World, which is at once glorified by the presence of Man, the Spark of Divinity. In all the grand old World the nearest to God is this tiny actor; in him "Life," in all its purity and truth is vested. As if to rival Heaven's glory, M/hence the infant came, the World-Stage takes on an atmosphere of exquisite delicacy and envelops the Dreamer in a fairyland of dainty elegance, — a miniature perfec- tion that charms. Yet, while he is haunted by a delicate revelry of fancy-lore's fancifulness, and tiny elves fan him with the beams of dawn, the lit- tle visitor smiles over some secret the Angels must have whispered to him : a secret that has never been told! Have the Angels told him he possesses the estimable quality of winning the glories of "Life" in an humble, resigned way, or have they revealed that his "Spark of Divinity" will ignite the world in a fire that will blaze on the history pages of the drama of "Life"? Does he smile serenely over the knowledge that he is to be a "King Cheops," and play his part building Pyramids to awe Man; or possibly the "Emperor Ming," and contribute to "Life's" drama by founding a Dynasty? Yet, it may be he is anticipating the role of an "Alexander the Great," a "Shakespeare," a "Gladstone," a "Washington," — aye, the infant dreamer may be any of these, and more, playing his part in the "First Age," — for they all flash the Secret Smile! "Nobody ^weighed the baby's smile, Or the love that came with the helpless one. . . ." 26 'All the world's a stage ''No index tells the mighty ivorth Of little baby's quiet breath, A soft, unceasing metronome. Patient and faithful unto death. Nobody WDeighed the baby's soul. For here on earth no nveight may be That could avail; God only knoijos Its value in eternity." — Mrs. E. L. Beers. Is he encouraged by this intuition to take a peep at his stage? He does so, and alas, the little actor suffers from an acute case of "stage fright." With most plaintive notes he plays on the emotions of Man. The tiny physical bundle that wraps his Spark of Divinity seems conscious of its utter helplessness, and touches at once the heart of the strong by his tender appeal, made in the most sor- rowful notes on the harp of pathos. The cry of a babe, in its weakness, its sincerity, its lonesomeness, — not yet attune to the vibrant waves of "Life," touches the heart strings of the earth's most hard- ened and calloused Man, — striking the lost chord therein, making it vibrate anew in sympathy for the helplessness of the infant that is launched on the stage of "Life" : The infant, who, without the care and love of Man, would perish. So, en- throned : "Mewing and puking in the nurse's arms," — Shakespeare. he is saturated with the incense of love, the suprem- est gift that floated in from Heaven, — the saving 27 'All the world's a stage' grace of Man. By this stimulating gift, the least, the strangest, is soon encouraged to trust. By the "nurse's" generous outpouring of this strengthening tonic of "Life," — Love, spectrumatized in kindness, patience and generosity — the little actor is encour- aged, and gradually emerges from the land of dreams to demonstrate, feebly, his desire to be iden- tified with Man, following precisely the pattern of development his predecessors used, prompted by the spontaneity of being. The infant, the dearest and newest of all "Life's" caste^ is yet too much aloof from Man's tenacious exertion, spent in playing his advanced roles in "Life," to be at once recognized as an active partici- pant in the tense drama that is going on. He is the delicate bud of folded petals of Mind, Heart and Will; the bud of Man, that must be bathed in the sunshine of Love, that petal by petal he may unfold and develop into World's crowning flower! Gradually, he is coached in the elementary cues of "Life," his "First Age" developing into a series of feature acts. Having been convinced by Nature's intuition that he IS; experimentally, he timidly tests, one by one, his presentative powers. How he blinks and squints with those first peeps, as if coquetting with sight. The little curtains rise and fall that he may re- treat, intermittently, into the "Land of Dreams," until he becomes accustomed to his surroundings. Yet, while he is privileged recesses from the sensa- tion of sight, secretly, unconsciously, he records on the clean slate of his mind the waves of sound 28 'All the world's a stage' that beat on his miniature organ, varying up and down the scale, from the pelting, unharmonious waves of an earth's tempestuous storm, to a mother's soothing song. The current of contact develops wonderful confidence in the new actor : the magnetic current of touch seems the satisfying link to hu- manity. How delicately, yet with all his strength, he cleaves to anything that passes his way. A weak grasp on the world, but who can tell how strong that "grasp on the world" may ultimately become! The flavors of life that tickle his senses of taste and smell are introduced so gradually, and with possibly less force, that he is less demonstrative in their recognition. We, however, enjoy his evi- dent relish of his "Milk of Life," and observe his keen detection of substances of foreign flavor. From constant exercise of his discovered senses, we notice his representative power feebly develop. He recognizes a touch : the fondling of his Nurse at once contents him; her voice is soon discriminated from other sounds that float in on his tiny drum. He associates the touch and the voice, then he wit- nesses its source by seeing. Gradually, these powers are registered in faintest imprint in the index of his intellect; at first, not for what they are, but as es- sential elements for "Life's" intellectual cues. Spontaneously, as physical strength is poured into his little body, he toys with these interesting at- tributes of "Life," exercising them madly in one round of confusion. Every color entrances him, every movement invites him to ecstasy, every sound attracts, and in response his movements are jumbled. 29 "All the tvorld's a stage" He wiggles and kicks in all directions. These re- flective flashes of observation prove the appendant of knowledge in Man. This intellectual petal of the bud of Man is the first that attracts us by unfolding; then. curls back, slightly, the petal of the Heart, the sensibilities. Buoyed by the intoxicating spirit of existence, he begins to vibrate with emotions, and bubbles forth from the delicate temple that encases him joyously cooing, gurgling in laughter and exploding in tears. These waves of emotion that play over him find expression in unregulated bouncing and flouncing. Then the development of physical control is quite noticeable. He discovers his extravagance in movements, and uses reserve, confining his move- ments to those that prove sufficient for the occa- sion. Attracted by an alluring object, we see him reach for it with definite aim; so, by repetition of this satisfying experience, his fluttering movements are subjected to a precise orderly coordination. We see him venture totteringly, fearlessly forth on the path of "Life," giving his exhaustless inter- est, absorbingly to the matter-of-fact settings that border his entrance. Vivid, penetrating impressions are made on his delicate mind by his first contacts with the World's wonderful offerings for instru- ments in working out "Life's" plot. How he ac- cepts unhesitatingly as his (as the Omnipotent in- tended Man always to do), the beautiful flower by the way, the shining pebble in the path, or the equally wonderful inorganic substance of a clod of dirt ; — all, to the trustful, fearless child being equal- 30 'All the world's a stage' \y attractive, until he has them famih'arized and defi- nitely catalogued. His initial contacts with impor- tant essential objects — the home, the horse, the dog, the machine — stand out impressively by their mar- velous significance, only to be, by repetition, indeli- ble facts that link the actor to the Stage of the World. Thus, he darts restlessly here and there in eager pursuance of the bewildering stage furnish- ings, — learning their names and uses in supporting and promoting his activities. How the playthings of "Life" attract him! A stick, a ball, a pool of water, bewitch him, while a wiggling fish, a flying bird, a grazing horse, charm him. We witness him in ecstasy over the quiver- ing movements of a singing bird that pours forth floods of delirious music; pensive as he visits the pelting waves that roll in on the sunny, sandy sea- shore, innocently dissolving all mystery. The moon and the stars furnish an animation of study. The blink of his trustful, appreciative, observing eye seems the only true understanding of the magnani- mous! He proves himself a scientist in the truest sense by the startling rapidity of his comprehen- sion and definite indexing of the World's innumera- ble settings. So^ the untiring, undoubting investi- gator, prompted ever by his instinct for adventure, pushes persistently on into "Life's" buzzing, hum- ming, widening field. The infant, who thus expands in the simple lux- ury of being in the first hours of "Life's" morning, is not exaggeratedly prolonged, for from exercise of the higher faculties the young actor consciously 31 'All the world's a stage formulates his knowledge and soon develops a com- prehensive understanding that "Life is real, Life is earnest," which sinks deep in his fancy free, un- tarnished soul, where inconceivable secretive emo- tions soliloquize and confidences seethe, making him a child. This fresh^ unencumbered, non-resisting child proves the most fertile soil for mental growth in the garden of "Life." The harvest from his un- cultivated mind, with but an oasis of wisdom, is, with a little irrigation, bountiful in the fruits of simple abstractions, clear reasoning about concrete things, mastered and comprehensive languages, math- ematical estimates, the understanding of social laws and the ethics of his day. The ease with which he masters and comprehends "Life's" cues, during the successive child years; his display of perfect logic and mature faculties astound the adult observer. His precocity for "Life's" essential knowledge about his Stage of the World, in certain ways, is equal to that of any later Age, for during the few brief j^ears of his childhood his physical and mental foun- dations are substantially constructed of the com- mon, matter-of-fact stones, all cemented in perfect symmetry, with the mortar of experience, with all the skill of an accomplished mason of knowledge. On this foundation he constructs the complete frame- work for "Life's" building, which he sheaths and decorates during his following Ages, as the "Man" architect indulges his will. 33 SCENE II SECOND AGE "The 'whining school-boy, nvith his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Univillingly to school." — Shakespeare: "As You Like It." Programme Time: Past, Present, Future. Cast: "The whining school-boy." Scene: The World in miniature. Lighting: First clear rays of Morning. Orchestra: Selections from "Nature." Stage Supervisors: Coaches. Manager: The Omnipotent. Supporting the "Star of Life" The Nazarene 33 SCENE II SECOND AGE "The 'whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school." — Shakespeare: "As You Like It." A gentle, sympathetic harmony peacefully throbs from Nature's varying symphony; a piping solo of a bird's cheery morning greeting; a sonata from the tuneful breezes and vibrating leaves; an or- chestration of sorrovv^ful lamentations of Nature's wailing vi^inds and melancholy vv^aves, gathering, svi^elling and soaring to the frenzied anguish of a tempestuous hurricane! Then, sinking, gradually, to the gentle rhythmical patter of a crystal rain shower, — penetrated by a far-off gleam of morning's crimson banners, to light the wavering path of: "The whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school." — Shakespeare. Thus, we are greeted by the Actor that graces the "Second Age," — the veriest mystery that appears under the curved theatrical dome, he, the heir to "Life"! 35 "All the world's a stage' With his worldly estate and cues to his activities fairly well charted, we see him, in a perfectly sure and familiar manner, venture leisurely forth to sur- vey the "How and the Why" of the allotment "Life" holds for him: "Why tivo and ttvo make four? Why round is not square? Why the rock stands still, and the light clouds fly? Why the hea^vy oak groans, and the ixhite ivillotvs sigh? Why deep is not high, and high is not deep?" — Tennyson. — to be, during this excursion of inspection, a bless- ing, a trouble, a rest, a burden, a torment, — and yet the bubbling joy of "Life's" Play that is in fuH swing. Life's song would lose its charm without the mischief, wit and glee of the carefree, indolent, ever idle, always busy boy. He seems far more interested in the Stage proper- ties than the theme of "Life," and in this indif- ferent, self-confident, unpretentious state, we have an actor truly natural. Artificial activity is for- eign to him. He acts independently, catering not to applause of Coach, Audience or Manager, but will- ingly loses himself among the by-ways of Nature, as her reverent student. The glow of curiosity seems continued from his "First Age" to anchor him securely in his "Second Scene." He instinctively feels himself kin to all life, organic and inorganic, and hungeringly grasps all unvarnished truths, — those that are not enameled by the sham of "Life." Thus, he recedes to the 36 'All the world's a stage' shadow and shelter of Nature to be an integral part, intensely interested in all that is "awfully vast and elegantly little"; learning the habits and ways of the plants in the World's garden, that saturate the atmosphere with their sweet, penetrating perfumes, their ever-varjdng dress; studying the system of the waters, their rise and fall, their ebb and flow in the nervous throb of "Life"; makes acquaintances and comrades with the animals of the woods; examines the mineralogical and horticultural formations of the earth ; meditates over the fleeting meteors of the sky, — so closely associating himself with these inani- mate substances that he steals Nature's heart and penetrates the mysteries over which his scientific eld- ers deliberate. So harmoniously is he blended with Nature that he grows freely with the young plants, busying himself with a hundred nothings ; beginning many things, finishing none ; forgetting on the mor- row the plans of the previous day; a term of idle- ness, a term of revery, — the primitive state of a savage, without his labors, without his anxiety, — lost, repeatedly, in soliloquy over Nature's workings, possibly the going and coming of an insect, the ca- prices of a beetle; indolent, yet busy, without object, but leading, nevertheless, indirectly, to a thought, and, "The thoughts of Youth are long, long thoughts." — Longfelloiu. In the Springtime of "Life," the seed planting season, seeds of Truth are imbedded in the broad, 37 'All the world's a stage' fertile, untilled field of the boy's mind by direct and indirect sowing. Multitudinous seeds, like those of the earthy each having a peculiarity of form and purpose, which, after being imbedded in the mind and nourished with time, blossom forth in "Life's" harvest time in myriad forms. Like the vegetable species, seeds planted in differ- ent soils and climates propagate in proportion to the quality of the soil and zone, some developing into perfection, others shriveling to death ; seeds sim- ilar in appearance, yet the off-springs are so differ- ent, — from the fairest flowers to great sturdy oaks. So it is in planting the seeds of Truth in the boy's mind; some may take deep root and grow, others struggle along, possibly die. Some Truth may cause him to blossom into a beautiful poet, rising to gen- eral and transcendental truths, while other truths may make him a strong, sturdy pine in the forest of Men, swaying not with the winds of sin. The boy, with his wild strange ways, his queer remarks and odd replies, sometimes foolish, often wise, is now invited to the directed planting of the tiny seeds, which contain within them the root of "Life." The Stage Supervisors of this Age are now linked with his activities, as he is coached in "Life's" truths that have aided his predecessors. His field of mind is plowed, harrowed, and in definite direct lines, the seeds are planted, nurtured and cultivated by whatever instruments and tools peculiar to his time and place, so that at the harvest season there will be no barren places, no weeds, but straight ac- cessible rows of ripened fruit, easily harvested. 38 "All the world's a stage' Eagerly he accepts from "Life's" older partici- pants the threads of knowledge that serve in the toils, problems and needs of "Life," that are un- raveled for him by diverse ways, tutored according to the peculiar custom of his day, whether in an edi- fice of knowledge that offers an assimilated, classi- fied routine of development, where he is coached by blackboard, globe^ map or book; or he enjoys this blissful scene by letting experience suffice as Coach. Nevertheless, in either event, aided or un- aided, this term of learning about things, this ab- sorbing state of being, throws a glow around the lad, — an aureole that emphatically distinguishes this period from others so closely associated, yet so for- eign. He soon feels burdened with his conception of things as they are, and in the conceit of his percep- tion of the practical assets of "Life" (for he feels that he knows all worth knowing), with yet no hint as to his later wonderful participation in the Bat- tle of "Life," his thirst of curiosity seems tempora- rily quenched, which causes the glow it supported to vanish. So, self-confident in his beautiful ignorance, he indulges in an adolescent recess in the Springtime of "Life," without glow, care or doubt, — deliber- ately "w a i t i n g," a dormant volcanic Man ! The lad, small and unpretentious, neither receding nor proceeding, is s t i 1 1, like the surface of a quiet lake, high on a pinnacle of a mountain, sheltered from the winds by a giant granite wing: a lake so small an elk might leap across; so still, its mirrored sur- face, by transparency deception, invites exploration 39 'All the world's a stage' of its smooth, sandy, apparently shallow bed, yet to one probing the depth of such an unpretentious, tiny, quiet pool, unfathomable depths are revealed which plumbing line cannot reach! So it is with the boy, enjoying the placid years of adojescence, without revealing a ripple of the wave of enthusi- asm, apparently spiritually asleep, shallow, crude, earthy, — yet, the depth of a boy's soul cannot be fathomed! The latent powers, physically, intellec- tually and spiritually, that might be unearthed from the unattractive, coarse, ruggedness beneath the .quiet surface of the boy, by the pressure of time and friction of battle, may be wrought the finest gems of the world. There may be in the calm, secluded lake of the boy's soul, buried treasures that he will dig out, refine and polish and offer them as a gift to the world; possibly in the form of a voice that will thrill the Stage of "Life" with ecstasy, ju- dicial power that will enable him to wield the scep- ter over man, — some richness that will glisten in its pureness and hold the record for art's perfection. , Thus, the boy's stream of "Life" flows gently on from this quiet lake, flowing over the rock-ribbed mountain-side, eroding and adjusting its path to the least resistance and in the sweeping progress of the flow, particle by particle, all in the same direction, growing in size and strength, his "Life" develops into a peaceful, well-directed stream of pronounced current to press on the lock of youth, which, when unlocked, results in a torrent of force in the cur- rent of the stream of "Life." 40 SCENE III THIRD AGE "The lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow." — Shakespeare: "As You Like It." Programme Time: Past, Present, Future. Cast: "The Lover." Scene: Valley of Dreamland. Lighting: Splashed in Shimmering Sunshine. Orchestra : Song on the chords of the Heart. Stage Supervisor: Love's Mistress. Manager: The Omnipotent. Supporting the "Star of Life" The Nazarene 41 SCENE III THIRD AGE "The lover, Sighing like furnace, ivith a nvoeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebroiv." — Shakespeare: "As You Like It." "All the world loves a lover/' so v^^ith what eager- ness we anticipate the entrance of the actor who is to play this fascinating role. The curtain scarcely lowers on the boy enjoying his recess of "Life," un- til it rises again, and, as the caterpillar is trans- formed into a brilliant-hued butterfly, so the dull, quiescent actor of the closing act of the "Second Scene" appears before us clothed in the beautiful airy wings of Youth, the "Lover" of "Life," "With a dream 'neath his ivaking eyelids hidden And a frequent sigh unbidden." — Mrs. Broivning. The song of his awakened heart is the tuning fork by which the melody of "Life" is keyed. "Quick with youth's strong, sweet story, — thirst- ing now to play the Man" — his thrilling interpre- tation of the song of his Heart instantaneously por- trays the perfection of his being. As the petals of 43 "All the world's a stage' the flower open out to drink in the rich rays of the sun's radiance and pour out in return its rare fra- grance and adorn by its perfection, so Youths the brightest flower of the world, basking in the sun- shine of "Life," unfolds before us in this act his beautiful petals of Mind, Heart and Will to full- blown blossom. In sympathetic response we follow him, as he ad- vances, buoyantly, on the stage, which is for a sec- ond time, a "Fairyland on the World Stage," — a Valley of Dreamland, dotted by fountains of Hope, studded by springs of Purity, threaded by streams pressed with currents of Energy, strengthened by glaciers of Courage, — a Valley where the realities of "Life's" difficult tasks roll ofif into indistinct mountains, hazy on the distant horizon, framing the dazzling picture of Youth's Dreamland! To Youth, possessing the temperament in the June of Life, the stage is perennially gay ; he bubbles over with the enlivening spirit of happiness, Youth's chief ornament ; "Happy, not in ivhat it has, but in nvhat it is: Not in possessing much, but itt hoping and loving much," Indifferent things are pleasant to him, sad things are soon driven out of his mind, care and misfortune rest easily upon him, — he lives in the future, build- ing for the climax of "Life," and this hope, this an- ticipation, paint everything for him in their gorgeous colors, hiding the displeasing things of "Life." The actor of Scene III, having drunk from the cup of "Life" during the placid ages, is now in- 44 'All the world's a stage' toxicated with it, and we see surging upon him the inevitable tide of Youth's bubbling activities to follow the pattern of tradition. Like the waves of the ocean's indefatigable tides, pressing and break- ing in shattered sprays, filling full every channel and arm of the sea, so the spirit of Youth comes gleaming and roaring irresistibly on the shore of time, grad- ually advancing, filling and overflowing all our actor's channels of "Life" with Love, Faith and Hope. From the splashing onrush of the tide of Youth, we see the frothy foam thereof wafted helter-skelter, but the essential strength is anchored in the stirring of the deep waters of Life, the turbulent power of enthusiasm, the backbone of effort, making " 'Youth' another way to spell 'Life.' " During this age of "Life," man makes of himself a storage battery of enthusiasm, love, courage, faith, religion, — the vir- tues of "Life," that support him for the remainder of his time; his future activity depending virtually on the strength of his battery of Youthj for Youth is concentrated life. This stimulating tide of enthusiasm that rises in Youth brings to the surface many different elements, traits and emotions that lend at once a flourish to his acting, riveting our attention. We are held spellbound by his extravagant expenditure of life's vitalities. The unruly whirlpools of rationalism, melancholy and gay moods, inchoation, impulsive- ness, venturesomeness and radicalism, each in them- selves danger signals and sink holes, awe us with fear for our actor's safety until they are sucked in 45 "All the world's a stage' by the strong current of "Life" that is pushed on by the force of knowledge of "Life," love of "Life" and will to live, which harmoniously blend the actor's widely varying tendencies info a directed power on its endless course, daringly competitive in its inexhaustible strength. The actor of this age of untranslatable yearnings, of confused vehement emotions, of all sorts of spir- itual awakenings, with his wealth of energy spilling in whatsoever action his temperament prompts in- dulgence, nibbles hungrily the fruit of the tree of knowledge of Good and Evil. Eagerly, he seeks to experience the whispers of his phantasm and pur- sues the fancy of his hope. His optimistic view of the present and glorious hopefulness for the future blossoms into the flower of love, the pure, ethereal love of life, its living; — the love of ideals, love of cause, love of art, religion, love of his fellow actors in the cast of "Life," and it is this magnanimous love that proves the leaven of "Life" that ferments and makes this Age rise to the highest! This illuminative truth is strikingly exemplified in the actor's sincere, fervent, unselfish love for the "Queen of his Age." It exalts him into sanctity and in celestial mystery he bows submissively. "One pair of eyes are worshiped, one voice is all there is of music." "The lover, Sighing like furnace, ivith a ivoeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyehronu. —Shakespeare: "As You Like It." 46 'All the ivorld's a stage' We see an age robed in the warmth of love, cover- ing all blemishes, transforming them into beauty, leveling all inequalities. This wonderful warmth of love — would that it would never cool! With the full unfolding of the petal of the Heart, the ". . . . Loving thoughts that start Into being are like perfume from the blossom of the heart." The winds seem to blow balmier, the skies seem to wear a softer blue, the sunsets seem more gor- geous, the moonlight seems purer, the birds seem gayer, the flowers brighter, the brook's song sweeter as it dances along over its pebbly bed. This hallow- ing melts all "Life's" realities in sympathy with the joyous, rosy-hued realization of "Life" and its wondrous value. By this Love, which is the moral law of man, the actor's every gesture, every phase of "Life's" philosophy of expression, is tempered. As at a loom, on the chains of knowledge and ignorance, the youthful actor, rich in his inheritance of "Life's" wonderful threads, experimentally starts weaving them, using some threads extravagantly, others sparingly, with no apparent definiteness of outline or uniformity of texture. With the fine silken threads of joy, hope, love, he weaves homespun yarns of grief, fear and hatred, ravelings of tempta- tion and sin, twisted with golden strands of religion. Gradually, as the threads unwind from the shuttle of selected occupation, a pronounced pattern de- 47 'All the world's a stage' velops, being governed primarily by the woof of circumstance, drawn by the tension of his will. The "Life" Scene of Youth, which the child dreams of, is the cherished "Age" of "Life." Youth, the radiant Age of man, that "psychologists have scrutinized, philosophers have discoursed upon, cynics have sneered at," pessimists have fought against, artists have painted, poets have exalted in rhyme, musicians have sung about, has never been completely caught, except as we catch a glimpse of the intangible and fleeting scene as played by Man on the broad stage of "Life." This evasiveness furnishes the real charm of "Life's" supreme scene, acted in the quintessence of living beauty. "The tissues of the life to be He iveaves ivith colors all his oivn, And in the fields of destiny He reaps as he has sonun," 48 SCENE IV FOURTH AGE "A Soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard. Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel. Seeking the bubble reputation Even at the cannon's mouth." — Shakespeare: "As You Like It." Programme Time: Past, Present, Future. Cast: "The Soldier." Scene: Battlefield of "Life." Lighting: High Noon. Orchestra: March of Time. Stage Supervisors: The World of Actors. Manager: The Omnipotent. Supporting the "Star of Life" The Nazarene 49 SCENE IV FOURTH ACT "A Soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel. Seeking the bubble reputation Even at the cannon's mouth." —Shakespeare: "As You Like It" Simultaneously, with the penetrating bugle call of life's need, that floats out over Youth's valley of tranquillity, we see the actor in the distance respond, and advance toward "Life's" Scene of Battle that lies so near. He rapidly approaches, leaving Youth's radiant "Dreamland" in the background, gradually dimming and fading into a luminous vapory halo circling the youthful actor. He turns and gazes back over Youth's playground for one fond caress of the sunshine he basked in, the rich fruits he feasted on and stored away, — sweeping the invitingly smooth lay with one lingering glance of love, which proves only to emphasize the raw, rugged, glaring, gigantic mountains of life's precariousness that jut up appall- ingly before him — "Life's" Battlefield, so closely hugging his beautiful valley! Thus, on the brink of his Fourth Age, he pauses to survey the rough, jagged, treacherous, rocky 51 'All the world's a stage' mountains of tribulation, disappointment, evil, dis- ease, catastrophes; the sharp blades and snags of "Life's" accidents, to scar, wound, deter and destroy Man walking "Life's" path. As poison is poison, possibly in differently-shaped vials, under different labels, so "Life's" adversities in all the shifting scenes of time, past and present, are the same, clothed differently. Decision is thrust upon him. Either he is to oppose or relax, tragically waste his strength or end the battle in joyful exuberant victory. The tenseness of the hour of decision, how it thrillingly electrifies ! Over and above the stair-step mountains of Ad- versity he sees the soaring, invincible, immortal peak of infinite Truth that always prevails, whatsoever his point of view, directing, inviting Man to put on the armor for adversity and make the peerless climb. After taking in the "setting" of the Battlefield of "Life," we see him experiencing the soliloquy of "Life" : "To be or not to be, that is the question." Thunderingly, dawns upon him the realization of his individual responsibility to his Manager, the Omnip- otent, and how he has heretofore been privileged the easy, delightful, beautiful roles of "Life," and that the perfection, exaltation and perpetuation of the "Play of Life" depend solely on the heroism of its actors in the Age of strife, service and tragedy, — the Age he now finds himself in. This over- whelming conviction induces all that is within him — the virtues that have been growing during his pre- vious Ages — to blossom forth in unison to a con- 52 'All the world's a stage' sciousness of his enormous endowment to be a crea- ture of Eternity rather than of Time, — no longer a parasite, but privileged an opportunity to engage in the performance of "Life's" difficult tasks, in his given time, "Now," the narrow isthmus between two eternities, the past and future. "Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard — " — Shakespeare. His quest of Truth determined, he enlists on the muster roll for War against the enemies of "Life" that tend to warp Man ; to battle with Nature, men and with himself; a War from which there is no discharge, selecting his armor with care from the resources of his accumulated virtues: "Girdle of Truth, Brestplate of Righteousness, Shield of Faith, Sivord of the Spirit, Helmet of Salvation, Feet shod nvith Readiness, — " — Ephesians, 6: 13-17. and with the ammunition of Youth, ignited by the spark "Dare," the conflict of conquest is on! His high appreciation of his newly assumed role in "Life" weaves itself into a well-defined virtue of Duty, that links the actor to his Omnipotent Man- ager, stimulating his effort to play his part in fullest veneration. In assuming, the role of the Soldier in "Life," he enlists to give his life; to give back that which "Life" has given him; physical aid to the weak, cheer to the weary, knowledge to the dull, courage to the 53 'All the world's a stage fearfng, hope to the faithless, — gives of his heart to Man and Manager, in sincere appreciation of "Life's" participation, by striving passionately to perfect and exalt his role, — pouring out his contri- bution to sustain, produce, perpetuate and perfect the plot of "Life." Whatsoever may be his rank in the army of men, whether "Private," "Lieuten- ant" or "General," he enters equally into the spirit of the cause, selecting from Life's armory any one of the commonly used weapons, and. by exercising confidence in his skill, may push to the front rank, a Man of Men. He mav select a pen, like Milton, and with a drop of ink make millions think; a chisel, like Michael Angelo, and transform rugged rooks into lines of symmetrical beauty and expres- sion ; a brush, as Apelles, and with art's supreme touch deceive the beasts of the fields with a splash of paint. He may, through the strength of his enthusiastic determination kept constantly burning in a hard gem-like flame, register himself on "Life's" stage a genius, — a King of Achievement, taking his part in the battle as a "Caesar," to rule; a "Demos- thenes," an "Antony," oratorical canons, whose powerful utterances, good and bad, echo over the stage of man, age after age; a "Copernicus," who blazed the path leading to astronomy ; a "Descartes," the father of philosophy; a "Confucius"; an "Isaac Newton." Aye, he may be any one of "Life's" Gen- erals in the varied spheres of man's activity, in any of the different countries, under their peculiar cir- cumstances and conditions; be he a prodigy in the realm of science, philosophy, anatomy, geology, the- 54 'All the world's a stage' ology, poetry, music or literature, since all of these capabilities are in him, more or less, his participa- tion depending on his volition as to which one or more he may select to contribute his power in mak- ing his fight, in his battle, in his way, following the banner of Truth, as he sees it. Yet, "The world knows nothing of its greatest men," — for, no less, in promoting the Manager's plan of "Life" are the faithful fathers of these wonderful men that lead in "Life's" battle; the "torch-bearers," those men that pitch the tents for shelter, shovel the fort embankment for protection, build the bridges for "Life's" army to pass over; those great men of no renown, who, lost in the vast number of men, as a pearl in a strand of perfect beads, one so like another, loses its identity in the circle strand, yet of itself holds a priceless premium for its intricate perfection. "They have no place in storied page; No rest in marble shrine. They are past and gone ivith a perished age; That died and 'made no sign.' But ivork that shall find its ivages yet, And deeds that their Manager luill not forget. Done for their love divine — "Oh seek them not nuhere sleep the dead. Ye shall not find their trace. No graven stone is at their head; No green grass hides their face. But sad and unsceen is their silent grave — It may be the sand or the deep sea wave, Or a lonely desert place — 55 "All the world's a stage' "They healed sick hearts till theirs ivere broken, And dried sad tears till theirs lost sight; We shall know at last by a certain token ■ Hoiv they fought and fell in the fight. Salt tears of sorroijo unbeheld, Passionate cries unchronicled, And silent strifes for the right — Angels shall count them and the earth shall sigh That she left her best Actors to battle and die." — Sir Edwin Arnold. The heart of every man, first and last, is haunted by an ideal, an aspiration to achieve that bends all that is within him to a purpose, galvanizing him. It is the clustering of his daily deeds to a clearly defined focus that enables him to play his part to completion. "Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even at the cannon's mouth." —Shakespeare: "As You Like It." The flash of vanity in him has to be satisfied. He wishes to distinguish himself in performing "Life's" tasks, whatsoever vocation he elects to follow, whether weaving a basket, digging a canal, building a house, writing a song, — according to his Idea, will and time of acting. To the fulfillment of the possibilities of his manhood in the Army of "Life," he fights on, continually plodding, moment by mo- ment, day after day, all through the Age. He per- sistently strains to the point of fatigue the forces within him, at the sacrifice of body and brain, — ^yet husbanding health, driving steadily toward his 56 'All the world's a stage "Mountain-Top" of Truth, ultimately, by fortitude and persistence, to achieve! In this Age of distinction, it is difficult to discern any single man actor; he may be any one of many, since no two actors play their parts alike, therefore observance of any one participant would not coin- cide with the activities of another. Each man so different, j'^et all so much alike, each fighting so dif- ferently, yet all so much alike, portraying vivid con- trast by their varied manifestations, for man's will predominates, shaping his destiny. He enacts his aspirations, his emotions, his dreams, according to his vision, acting: ". . . In the living Present, Heart ivithin, and God o'erhead!" — Longfelloiv. So, our Actor distinguishes himself in this Age, in a way peculiar to himself, yet his "distinction" in the fight may be good or bad, with or without Glory. He who links Glory with his distinction, whatsoever his rank in the army of "Life," is he who is evej mindful of performing his part in act and spirit to approach as nearly as possible to the Perfect Actor of "Life" ; as the Star of Life's Stage would perform the same role, according to the actor's knowledge thereof. This battle for "distinc- tion," which, if not all of "Life's" plot, is an all- important part of the drama. The actor's gain of "distinction," be it wisdom, wealth, culture, skill, fame or power, his laurel of Glory and heroism in the fight is measured by the one given standard: 57 'All the world's a stage' his knowledge of "The Star of Life." As the potter may from clay make mud or trans- form it into the finest china of moulded vases of rare beauty, so man, the potter of his role in "Life's" Fourth Scene, enjoys free volition to make "mud" of his role, or refine, mould and burn it in the heated strategy of battle into rare crystal beauty. As the mysterious, tremendously valuable radium substance is contained in the very mire, so should the potter of this scene will to make "mud" of his role, by violating social, moral and natural law^s, and in his low state of being, deliberately spatter "Life's" stage with his mud of injustice, greed, lust, perfidy, dishonesty, selfishness, hatred or inhumanity, we must not forget that smothered deep in his slimi- ness smoulders the radium "Spark of Divinity" to blaze up with the first inviting current that tends to draw it from the bog. "No life is ivasied in the great nuorker's hand; The gem too poor to polish in itself We grind to brighten others." — Philip James Bailey. "China" or "Mud," beautiful or scarred, each re- sult will be according to the determined purpose of the potter of the role. Good or bad, each act of man will be as the intent of the deed, either to adorn "Life's" stage with an ornament of beauty and use- fulness or smear and smudge with mud. "As much eternal springs the cloudless skies, As man forever temperate, calm and wise." 58 'All the world's a stage Yet, in "Life's" play, an accident may happen. The potter may with earnest effort and great skill mould and refine a rare and fine china ornament that, by some accident, through ignorance, becomes cracked, shattered and spoiled. So our actor's pur- pose, be it ever so well defined, may be broken and thrown into chaos by "Life's" accidents. The good, innocent, honest and courageous may, by ig- norance, misdirection or betrayal be thrown into the lurid turmoil and become derelicts in the sea of "Life." It is in the derelict actor that we see the sting of existence portrayed; the ignorant in his pitiful state; the scoundrel in his infamy; the pious in his jealousy; the hypocrite in his pretence; the fool in his grotesque interpretation of "Life's" plot; — "Life's" shivering, disinherited, villainous out-cast that ac- tively weaves his hindering acts in and out, menacing "Life's" plot. Yet, this malicious character, who clings tenaciously to his villainous role, in the "Play of Death," is no less interesting than he who battles earnestly with the army to support "Life's" plot. In fact, the derelict's participation excites constant attention. We are alert, watching for his treachery; awed by his complete badness ; pitying his ignorance ; sympathizing with his foolishness; keyed to a high strain of suspicion of every act of the dynamite destroyer that plants himself on "Life's" battlefield to explode and destroy man's highest purposes. Thus, we may see our Soldier actor in the Fourth Scene of his time, according to his individual mindj heart and will, acting his part in the Battle of 59 'All the world's a stage' "Life," using whatsoever weapon that meets the emergency of his time and place, stimulated ever by the same spirit that lives in every soldier's heart, weak or strong, as the case may be. Be he: "John, Peter, Robert or Paul, God in his ivisdom created them all; John a statesman, Peter a slave, Robert a preacher and Paul — a knave. Evil or good, as the case might be, White or colored, bond or free — John, Peter, Robert, and Paul, God in his ^wisdom created them all. "Out of earth's elements, mingled ivith flame, Out of life's compounds of glory and shame, Fashioned and shaped by no ivill of their oiun, And helplessly into life's history thronun; Born by the laiv that compels man to be, John, Peter, Robert, and Paul, Born to conditions they could not foresee, God in his wisdom created them all. John the head and heart of his state. Trusted and honored, noble and great; While Peter 'neath life's burdens did groan, Robert, great glory and honor received, While Paul, of the pleasures of sin took his fill. The purpose of Life ivas fulfilled in them all." — Anonymous. The harsh clamor of the firing-line strife gives the soldier a secretive zest for living. The tossing about in the tempest battle, the problems solved, difficulties unraveled, perplexities endured and ene- 60 'All the world's a stage' mies conquered, toughens him. The grinding of "Life's" spears against his shield of welded virtues, the frictional rubbing of his onward battering pres- sure toward his purpose elect, polishes the precious gem of his manhood, making him a radiant jewel, to reflect the shining light of the Perfect Soldier, — the Hero of the Battle of "Life," — The Nazarene. 6i SCENE V FIFTH AGE "The Justice, In fair round belly ivitk good capon lined, fVith eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of ivise saivs and modern instances." — Shakespeare: "As You Like It." Programme Time: Past, Present^ Future. Cast: "The Justice." Scene: Mountain-top of "Life." Lighting : Afternoon. Orchestra : "Victory." Stage Supervisor: Himself. Manager: The Omnipotent. Supporting the "Star of Life" The Nazarene 63 SCENE V FIFTH AGE "The Justice, In fair round belly laith good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saivs and modern instances." — Shakespeare: "As You Like It." Viewing the masterful rocks and desolate cliffs that build themselves, stanch and secure one above another, into gigantic mountains, to soar aloof in majestic strength, we see the scene, which in the blazing sunlight of "Life's" Battlefield appeared gruesome, now wonderfully softened by the shadow- ing tints of the sun's golden rays that slip over the Mountain-top, penetrating the grotesqueness of the scene, painting the picture in royal shades of purple and gold, a gorgeous array of "Victory" in har- mony with the "Justice," who appears in the Fifth Scene of "Life," as the acme of things accomplished, having victoriously climbed to the apex of his role in "Life." He, the heir of the Ages, stands on his Mountain-top of "Life," in the acting of his time and place. His time may date back to the early swing of "Life's" rude, crude, barbaric day, — to the dim-distant, aboriginal activity; the "Cliff Dwell- ers" in their caves; the "Tribes"; the scenes during 65 'All the world's a stage' "Life's" "Dark Ages"; the "Christian Era"; the "Mediaeval Period," or he may be a character actor in the immediate weighty age, when the entire cast of actors on the stage of "Life," from the east to the west, the north to the south, through the throbbing mechanical hearts of telegraphy and telephone, are linked closer and stronger together, so that man's every act, instantaneously, as it were, penetrates through the entire system, subjecting "Life's" stage of action to be daily shaken by man's modern ac- tivity: thunderbolts of science, theology, philosophy, commerce and tragic barbaric slaughter. In what- soever age and whatsoever place, — be it among the northern crystal bergs of ice, the swaying orange groves of the "Holy Land" or in the sleeping south- lands, — anywhere; on island, continent or sea, we may find the "Justice" on his individual "Mountain- top," whether his summit be a pinnacle of the average, irregular range, or one of the high peaks that loom up sublimely. In a semi-state of tranquillity, he watches from his station on the lofty wall the troubled sea of "Life" that flows beneath, looking afar to those Ages that have slipped away; those Scenes of "Life's" twisting and turning roads that he has stumbled over and made: "Footprints on the sands of time." "Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipnjurecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again." — Longfellow. 66 'All the world's a stage' His high, distant view of former scenes of "In- fant," "Boyhood," "Youth" and "Soldier," with the gladness of their good and the sadness of their bad, now seem, through the veil of the past, other than they used to appear ; good not so good ; ill not so ill. Withdrawn from "Life's" clamoring activity into the rarefied atmosphere of the azure world, he medi- tatively examines himself, objectively and without illusions, inquiring into the success of his elected purpose in the grand drama. He searches his en- cyclopedia of experience; measures his spent re- sponsibilities and weighs his role's true worth that built up toward his highest aspiration for exalting Truth, as he saw it, that he may, judiciously, pre- scribe a pattern thereof: "Full of ivise saws and modern instances" for those actors who follow. The recapitulation of his accumulated resources, suitable for supervising "Life's" younger actors, re- veals the acknowledged fact that he knows about many things foreign to his immediate activity, but that he only knows in a true sense, the cues to his elected "Life" role, which have been written in the ink of personal experience. He knows how to weave "Life's" threads of dreams, loves, and religion with the cords of ignorance, knowledge and temp- tation, mingled, good and ill together, into the tissue of his traditionally shaped role, — woven in 'pattern and color all his own. This knowledge of his ex- perienced cues that crystallized his purpose in "Life," 67 'All the world's a stage' In the isolation of his being, proves only the "A B C" knowledge of the grand drama being played by men on the broad stage. The innumerable roles in the cast of men in the whole drama of "Life," from the rising to the lowering of the World's curtain, by the Omnipotent Manager, are to him, in all his self-exalted wisdom, as the algebraic unknown quan- tity! Yet, Man labels the crystallization of his deter- mined purpose in "Life," good or bad, "Success," though "no man knows his true success," and im- mediately assumes therefrom a self-laudable manner that has been potent at terms in former ages. We see the "Justice" of "Life," "JVith eyes severe" in the egotism of his power ^ tempered, however, with the precaution of experience. This life-thirst for power, that invigorated his former activities and kept "Life" from being stale, now, that it has been quenched with the soothing liquid of efficiency, stimu- lates a stern, deep satisfaction, a static role of semi- independence from men. We see him in his hour of efficient "Victory": — "His tongue luas framed to music And his hand ivas armed luith skill, His face ijvas the mould of beauty, And his heart the throne of ivill." —r-Emerson. 'All the world's a stage' His performance, that crowned his role with "dis- tinction" may be that of an efficient hunter of the primitive era; a tiller of the soil; a body-servant; a tradesman in the market-place ; a seaman ; a manual laborer; a professional man, whatsoever focus for distinction he may have aimed, in his effort to sus- tain, produce and perpetuate the plot of "Life." To achieve was the goal. Some men's achievement, in the eyes of the stage participants, appear more satisfactory than the achievement of fellow-men high on a neighboring "Mountain-top" of different range, their efficiency being made more conspicuous by the spot-light of the World's stage, shifted by the fickle public clamor being momentarily flashed upon them, and in the glare of this revealing light their accomplishments, apparently, supersede those of their fellow actors, who in surrounding shadow are participating with equal efficiency. The measure of man's "Success" is for the Omnip- otent Manager alone to determine, from the motive of man's works, which is secreted deep in the inner-soul of the actor. Whether or not his motive is in harmony with that of "Life's" plan, which grants him grace of soul peace with men and Manager. "The bird that soars on highest loing Builds on the ground her loiuly nest; And she that doth most sweetly sing, Sings in the shade 'where all things rest; In lark and nightingale