PS 3531 .175 L3 1922 'Copy 1 I 1 FHE LAND OF THE AIOUWAS A MASqUE EDWIN FORD PIPER THE LAND OF THE AIOUWAS A MASQUE BY Edwin Fokd Piper THE MIDLAND PRESS IOWA CITY, IOWA 1922 COl'YRIGHT, 1922 BY EDWIN FORD PIPER Al.L RiOHTS Reskrved To MY SISTER Ella For permission to reprint some of the lyrics of the book the author is indebted to the courtesy of Poetry and the the courtesy of The Midland. Peeformed under the Auspices of the State University of Iowa at its Diamond Jubilee Celebration, February 24, and February 25, 1922. Book hy Edwin Ford Piper Drawings by Kathryn Dayton Aurner Music by Philip Greeley Clapp Director of the Masque, Edward C. Mabie THE LAND OF THE AIOUWAS A MASQUE Edwin Ford Pipeb DRAMATIS PERSON AE JOLIET Marquette DuMONT, a young poet Buffalo Horn, the great chief Red Feather, subordinate chief Evening Sky, a medicine man Shadow-of-the-Wolf, the Calumet dancer The son of Buffalo Horn Squaws, Warriors, Singers, Young Men, Children Bison, Deer, Rabbit, Turkey, Plover, Quail Plums, Berries, Grapes White Maize, Yellow Maize, Red Maize, Blue Maize, All Colors of the Maize Earth Mother. Young Men ; Rovers, Dwellers Spirits of Flocks, Fruits, Wind, Sun, Waters, Trees Spirit op the Land Brother of April, Sister op Summer, Daughter of the MOONRISE Coyote, an Elder Brother (grotesque) Indian Hunter, Squaw and Children White Settler and Family Hunters and Trappers Woodmen, Farmers, Carpenters, Drovers Schoolmistress, School Children Teamsters, Factory Hands, Mechanics Architects, Builders, Engineers Scholars, Artists, Musicians 10 THE LAND OF TEE AI0VWA8 Setting : Woods on the Iowa shore of the Mississippi; trees in the foreground, thicket at rear, log at edge of thicket. On one wing suggestion of river hack- ground, on the other, lodges of the Indians. Enter Joliet and Dumont. JoLiET. Wilderness, wilderness! No sea to end it? Those red men, — they have left you the long yellow hair. Ah, Dumont, they will hear you shouting out poetry, again. Dumont. Yes, still mine {touching his hair). They knew I was not spying. But Joliet, you do not lack the eye to see. This is not wilderness, this is a great country, the New France ! That is why I gallop in metre. Will you hear? Joliet. Yes, for a New France. But don't whoop it out the way you did yesterday. Dumont. Ouch ! Your words bite. But I forgive you. Come, tie up your grouchy voice. I speak to your heart, to your ardor for your country. Bound for the southern gulf. Or bound for the Avestern ocean. The Father of Waters leads, — We follow, — we follow. On the sunset shore of the river In the land of the Aiouwans The prairies lift and roll In pageantry of summer. With bee and with bird The wilderness is singing And the brooks hum low To the sweet A\dld grasses. 0, the seeker moves Over ways untrodden TEE LAND OF THE AWUWAS 11 Amid roses unfolding In the open meadows ; There is elfin dancing Of the dews and shadows On the bitter-sweet Where the blackbirds chuckle; Spirits are weaving In the sunset meadows A mystery of beauty Purple-dim. JoLiET. Bravo, Dumont. Curse these mosquitos. And so you, you do not mind these humming jaws, nor that under your sunburn your nose is peeling like an onion. DuMONT. Monsieur Joliet, I have been told that in heaven there are neither fleas nor chiggers ; yet I am in no haste to come to my quarters there. Our day's job is irritating and absorbing. And if the words of the old Indian be true, — Joliet. To turn from the Father of Waters back up the Smoky Stream running in from the right, to swing off west on the Shallow Water to its source, to carry through the mountain passes and shoot down a great river to the salty sea of the west, — journeying many, many sleeps, many moons. New horizons, new troubles, the painted cannibals, human sacrifice ! It is worthy an Odysseus. Curse these mosquitos. DuMONT. We might be on his pilgrimage to the men who eat no salt, who know not the oar. We could build among them that altar to the unknown God. Joliet. Well, they have their medicine men, their sor- cerers, magicians. Dumont. I watched the last one; hardly a sorcerer. Rather a poet, a maker of phantasy, I think. Joliet, what say you to our sweet new land? 12 TEE LAND OF TEE AlOVWAS JoLiET {reading). ''Bound for the southern gulf Or bound for the western ocean, The Father of Waters leads, — We follow, we follow. ' ' Bravo, Dumont, the wilderness is France. But phantasy, foh! a necklace of stone, and into the water with the lousy jade! She blocked your trigger finger yesterday. Phantasy ! Name of a name of a mosquito ! Dumont. No, Joliet, no. It helps one to see. And I, — I am not quite the fool of phantasy. Joliet. Yonder is Father Marquette. Come. Joliet and Dumont go out through the trees. Before the lodges. Enter Evening Sky, medicine stick in hand, and robe of sunset colors folded across his arm. Evening Sky. Old Man Coyote is not come, the fleet- footed bringer of news. (Seais himself.) Shall we find a counsel! the winds blow, Shaping and shifting the soft-lipped clouds. I remember the winter; the long black nights Wrestled to throw me down to their darkness. Storms are my teachers. My soul endures. Our elder brothers, Hawk and Buffalo, Beaver and Bear, sat in silence with me, Thinking of life. Under bitter snows I spoke with Wolf — the Gray Wolf, — Under snows, bitter snows. Like signals in the sky the colors move. The east wind told me, the waters told me, — They come, the white of skin. With strange wisdoms. TBE LAND OP THE AlOVWAS 13 Shall we ask a counsel Out of the hurricane* or commune with sunsets? They come, bringing — The drum gives danger notes. Enter Buffalo Horn; warriors with weapons rush across the stage. Buffalo Horn gives signals. Voices heard: Halloo! Ho, ho! The drum again. Squaws {rushing to cover). The Dakotah! Where? How many? Warriors mot'c to the point of alarm; scouts in other directions. Voices. Halloo! Ho, ho! Squaws. Where? How many? The white men appear. The White Men. Halloo ! Ho, ho 1 The drum again. Buffalo Horn steps into the open. Buffalo Horn. Call them back. Drum ceases. A flute sounds. Buffalo Horn. The Black Gown bears a calumet. Lead them hither. Red Feather conducts the white men, with all respect, to the lodge where Buffalo Horn stands erect with hand extended toward the sun. At the direction of the chief two Indians bring as gifts a belt and moccasins. Buffalo Horn. How beautiful the sun is, French- men, when you come to visit us! Enter our dwellings. JoLiET {offering cloth and beads). We bring tokens of friendship. Marquette. Our hearts thank you and bless you. As they move to enter, the drum sounds three sharp rolls, and two Indians rush in dragging the dishevelled Dumont. First Indian. Chief, a skulker! Second Indian. A spy in the thicket ! 14 THE LAND OF TEE AlOUWAS Buffalo Horn, Is this some trap? Why were you hidden? DuMONT {to Joliet). I was not hiding. There is a little lake. The lotus, the lotus grows there. Joliet {to Buffalo Horn). Our poet, Dumont, Chief Buffalo Horn. A little cracked up here, you know. Buffalo Horn {to Joliet). And what is your word to him? Joliet ( to Dumont) . You 're a goner, old man, a goner, beard, bones and buttons! If you ever get back to a tombstone, yours will be inscribed Phantasy. Buffalo Horn. So that is how the gods have blessed him. Well, turn him over to Evening Sky. Come, enter unto peace. They go out, leaving Dumont alone with Evening Sky who assumes his magic robe, seats himself on the grass, and after a little pause speaks. Evening Sky. Land and water offer us of their plenty. What the mind sees is no creature, what the heart hears is no voice. The roof of the sky was open and gifts de- scended ; the pulse of Mother Earth beat loud in a tune, a song. Vision and token are old, are come down from the first of things. He that hath eyes and ears, let him hear, let him see. Behold the symbols of the feast. Music. From the left enter, dancing, Bison, Deer, and Hare, and move across the stage to the right; as they reverse their steps and return to the left, Turkey, Quail, and Plover dance on from the right. After the execution of their figures the music changes to represent the hunter and the hunted, and the animals and birds dance off the stage. Enter from the left, Maize, All-Colors, and recites the lyric of the maize. The Maize. The slanting rain comes down in May, The May sun shines ; The smell of the loam is rich in May, THE LAND OF THE AIOUWAS 15 And the May sun shines On the shoots, Green shoots ; Beat the drum, Let us dance; Behold the springing of the maize. The green leaves bow to the left and the right, Heavy with dew ; They strike the knees, they brush the breast, And the tassel plume Shakes delicate bloom On the morning air; Beat the drum, Let us dance The joyous carol of the maize. The wind spoke gently to the growing ear, "Your silken hair is tawny." The sun spoke loud to the ripening ear : "Let husk and kernels harden." Then feast On the maize ; Beat the drum, Let us dance For the sacred feast of the maize. Dance music; from the left Red Maize and White Maize dance on; from the right Yellow Maize and Blue Maize. ^5 the Maize dance ends, the earlier music is resumed, and from the right dance on Plums and Berries; from, the left Grapes. As the music continues the birds and animals return for the ensemble. Music changes to the hunter and the hunted and carries the dancers off. Old Man Coyote {behind the thicket). Oh-hu-hu-ho, ho-ho ! DuMONT. What is that? 16 THE LAND OF TEE AWVWAS Evening Sky. Nothing, only Old Man Coyote laugh- ing. Old Man Coyote {comes on singing). The beasts of the wood put out their claws, — Oh-hu-hu-ho, ho-ho ! They smack their lips and they lick their jaws, — Oh-hu-hu-ho, ho-ho ! Bones and all, bones and all ; We gobble them bones and all ! My snout offers honorable greeting. Evening Sky. But hello, who's your friend? Evening Sky. Dumont, a maker of phantasy. Coyote. Greetings, Dumont; my snout bows low to you and to Evening Sky. A hard nut, a hard heart, he cracks 'em. But w^hat is phan — phantasy ? Dumont. Phantasy, sir, is a drink of air; the flavor of an imaginary sausage. Coyote. Imaginary sausage. {Licks his chops.) But what does the belly say? To the crows with phantasy. Bones and all, bones and all, — We gobble them bones and all. Evening Sky. We must humor him under the full moon or he may run mad. Hearken, I hear a song, young men singing the midsummer rites of the Earth Mother. She makes answer out of her bounty. Music. Enter Earth Mother and Young Men. Young Men {Ml chorus). The Earth is our mother, — happy, loving mother, — Earth Mother. Put your lips to my breast, comfort ye, my children. Young Men. After the heat of the chase, her springs are cool-flowing ; After the wearisome journey, luscious her scarlet berries; The plum has a delicate bloom, in autumn sunlight bask- ing. THE LAND OF TEE AIOVWAS 17 Earth Mothee. Feast ye, my children, couch on the fragrant grasses. Young Men. Day-long the paddle song — Earth Mother. Eest ye, my eager ones. Young Men. Now for the blessed maize, we thank thee, Mother, Earth Mother. Eest in peace on the power of my spirit. Put your lips to my breast, comfort ye, my children. The song ceases. Strains of soft music die away. From the lodge of the feast voices are heard as if the f casters are rising. Evening Sky lays aside his magic robe, and with Du- mont and Old Man Coyote retires to a log at the edge of the thicket. Enter from the feast, Joliet, Marquette, Buffalo Horn, Red Feather, and other Indians, and the young son of Buffalo Horn. Joliet. Always south? Buffalo Horn. Always south. Joliet. Into the Gulf, then. We seek also the Big Water of the Sunset. Buffalo Horn. The Dakotah, eager for scalps, will block your way. Joliet. We should find Quivera, the rich mines, golden cities. Buffalo Horn. A tale, a cloud-land. Abide. Joliet. We are under orders. Our chief bids us fol- low the great river. Buffalo Horn. My friends, the way is full of perils, disease, demons. On the lower stream hostile bands kill those who would reach the Gulf. Abide here in peace and plenty. Commune with our wise men, our young men. Marquette. We are deeply grateful, Buffalo Horn. Tonight, we remain. Accept, now, our brotherly tokens. 18 THE LAND OF THE AlOUWAS This cross is a witness from the All-Father. He sends us that He may be made known to all the peoples. This medal is a testimony from Monsieur the Count de Fron- tenac, the great captain of the French. He has subdued the Iroquois. He desires your friendship. BuFFAi.0 Horn. All honor to the worthy tokens ! How good it is, my Brother, that you should visit us! Here is my gift, my son, from my heart to your heart. Marquette. Let him be a son to us both. All blessing upon him, and upon you. JoLiET. Grant now your witness to the peace. Buffalo Horn. Tarry this night. In company we will celebrate the calumet rite. All except Evening Sky, Dumont, and Coyote enter the lodges. Music. Voices are heard singing. Single Voice. There was war in the land ; Drums and weapons were calling. The bowstring twanged, the arrow sang, — Chorus. Peace, let there be peace. Single Voice. For I worship the Calumet, And a dream subdues my passion ; A wreath for the Manitou, And a wreath for the sun in heaven. Chorus. Peace, let there be peace. Single Voice. I hear the gentle babbling Of water over the pebbles ; And the leaves of the willow turn and stir With a happy sound, as light, as light As the breath of sleeping children. Chorus. Peace, let there be peace. THE LAND OF THE AIOUWAS 19 During the singing of this lyric the stage is being pre- pared for the rite of the Calumet. Warriors spread a large painted mat of rushes; upon it they place a spirit- hundle; at the right of this, the Calumet. All around as trophies to the Calumet stand clubs, war-hatchets, bows, arrows, quivers, spears. Enter Buffalo Horn, Joliet, Marquette, Red Feather, Warriors. When the singers ivith lighted pipes move out on the stage each in turn salutes the Calumet by blowing smoke toward it reverentially, as if offering incense, then takes a seat in the semicircle under the branches. Buffalo Horn, Joliet, Marquette, and Red Feather seat themselves in the semicircle. The dancer appears in the middle of the assembly. He offers the pipe {taken from the mat) to the sun, stem first, as if for the sun to taste. He offers it to the earth, then to the four winds in turn. He makes it spread its wings as if about to fly. Then he offers it to the singers that each may taste it. All is done in cadence. The drum begins. The dancer signals a warrior to take arms from the mat and enter the combat. The war- rior approaches ivith arrow, bow, and war-hatchet, and begins the duel against the dancer whose sole defense is the Calumet. There is attack and defense; blows are parried; flight and pursuit, the pursued facing about and becoming the pursuer. All is danced ivith slow, measured steps to the drums and voices. The dance ends. Dancee. When I, Shadow-of-the-Wolf, first became a warrior, I accompanied my father, Swift Hawk, and seven other hunters far up the river of the Cedars. The Dakotah in war paint came to us. Of our band, I with four others, brought home eleven scalps. My father sleeps by the river of the Cedars. Now I will smoke the Calumet with Black-Gown and the Frenchman. 20 THE LAND OF THE AIOUWAS I was with Buffalo Horn when he chased the Osage from our hunting ground. I was with Red Feather when the Dakotah set fire to the woods to burn our village. Four years since I crossed the prairie from the Moin- gonan to the Pekitanoui. On this shore of the river I fought two Pawnee warriors. I came home with a wound, but their scalp-locks hang in my lodge. Now I will smoke the peace-pipe with Black-Gown and the Frenchman. Buffalo Horn. Brave deeds are well remembered. The Calumet dance is an honor to our tribe and to the dancer. Accept this beaver robe, Shadow-of-the-Wolf. Our guests shall forever be our friends. Shadow-of-the-Wolf places the Calumet in the hands of Buffalo Horn, who draws smoke, then passes the pipe to Joliet; the pipe is sent on around the council, and re- turned to Buffalo Horn. Buffalo Horn. Together we have worshipped the peace. Between us it is sacred, everlasting. This Calu- met is the witness from us to you. (Buffalo Horn pre- sents the Calumet to Joliet.) The singers on the stage take up the song. Single Voice. Alone, I found the teepees And many a hostile warrior ; I bear with me the strength of their chief, — His scalp-lock at my girdle. My tomahawk is red, And I lead their women captive, — War, war, red war in the land ! Chorus. Peace, let there be peace. Single Voice. For I worship the sacred pipe. And a dream subdues my passion, A wreath for the Manitou, And a wreath for the sun in heaven, — THE LAND OF THE AlOUWAS 21 Chobus. Peace, let there be peace. Single Voice. For my body loves the touch of the grass In the falling afternoon ; My body loves the touch of the grass And the kiss of the sinking sun. And I hear the mourning dove, — I echo her on my flute : I am here my love, I am here my love, — Choeus. Peace, let there be peace. All except Evening Sky, Dumont, and Coyote enter the lodges. They watch the sunset lights through the trees. After a pause. Coyote. 0, once I was a god, a god — {turns his nose to the sky afid hoivls). Dumont. And therefore you mourn to the moon? Coyote. A habit at sunset. I worship the light and I mourn for my father. Dumont. Your father? Coyote. A frightful sickness carried him off. He died of a phantasy. For the bat-folk rule the roads of the dark, Shooting arrows at the moon ; They snare the sun in the lotus pool, And night comes soon. Night — soon. My father tried to save the sun, But quicksands rise and rise; Above his knee, around his neck. And the fish make love to his eyes, — Amber eyes. {Mourns again.) Evening Sky. Be comforted. This is Midsummer Even. Under the blessing of the pipe we may be fortu- nate in dream and vision. 22 TEE LAUD OF THE AlOVWAS Evening Sky assumes his magic robe. Smoke and in- cense. Soft music. Enter as he names them, the spirits. Evening Sky. Lo, as of old, the Spirit of the Land. Eovers and Dwellers, plead for her favor, while Waters, Trees, Winds, Sun, Fruits, Flocks, follow her. Hearken to the Rovers. Rovers (chant). The Earth is our mother, a mystery of beauty, — Sold? Wounded? — Never! The comfort of her spirit is the sunlight ; With joy, with love she feeds us. Mother Earth ! Dwellers (chant). Nourish the Dwellers ! Love the Dwellers ! The sky loves the stars. How shall you bear if you be not wounded? The dusk is wounded by stars. Bison fail, and forests fall, — Flocks will follow, sheaves will cluster ; Body and spirit have motherly uses, — Mother Earth! Evening Sky. She chooses the Dwellers. Rovers (chant). Rovers, Rovers, disinherited. Into new wilderness we depart. (Rovers go out.) Evening Sky. Come, Spirits, give welcome. Water Spirit. Drink of our plenteous springs, And move on our waters. Trees. Under shadowy branches Find grateful rest. Sunshine. I kiss your cheek and your blowing hair, Over the flower and the dew. Winds. We the wanderers THE LAND OF THE AlOVWAS 23 From the world's corners, Name this your homeland, Land of the Aionwans. Flocks. In blossoming meadows The wild flock is feeding; Your step, your voice, — We welcome the master. Fruits. Blossom on vine, and blossom in thicket. Laden tendrils and branches that bend, — For the Dweller ! For the master ! Dwellers. The earth is our mother. The sky is our father. They love and cherish us forever. Soft music; the spirits steal away as if dismissed by Evening Sky. As the m.usic deepens in magic, enter Brother of April, Sister of Summer, and Daughter of the Moonrise, and make as if they ivould dance. Coyote joins them. Evening Sky signals to them. Evening Sky. Brother of April, and Daughter of the Moonrise, stand you here; you. Sister of Summer, over yonder; and you. Coyote, a little more retired. There is a singing in the air. Hearken. When it pauses, begin your dance. {Chorus off stage.) When sunlight marries the swaying branches. With shadow>^ dancings the rite is said, To the crooning of easeful winds and waters Whispering often, ''I love you, I love you." Now in wedded lilies the juices bubble. And saps make music about the heart; With flower on flower the spring is yearning For the Easter of love, the sacrament of love. The passion of the earth and the passion of the sky. Whispering often, ' ' I love you, I love you. ' ' 24 THE LAND OF THE A10U\YAS The earth and the sky are beloved and lover, And the sky bends low; Sunset and moonrise, intimate glances, Soft bright hair, the soothing of twilights, Lip to delicate lip responsive, — Bending low. Dance of the four ending with Brother of April and Daughter of the Moonrise as foreground figures. {Chorus off stage.) And this is the joy of all generations, Branches are bare and leaves are sin^ng, And the hard fruits are rounding and coloring, — Goodly is the bliss when a child is born ! Lips at the breast, baby lips at the breast, — Mother Earth! The wolf cub shall sleep on his dam's shaggy coat, And the spotted fawn nuzzle the udder ; The infant fairy cradled in violets Suck with a mouth so dewy delicate ; And human children shall still their cries, — Lips at the breast, baby lips at the breast ! Mother Earth! Dance of the four which carries all of them off the stage except Coyote who takes a position at the log in the rear. The music changes. An Indian hunter with squaw and children crosses the stage as if retreating from the land. Evening Sky. The vision broadens, my own race passes As runs the shadow of an April cloud ; And the white men come, shaping and coloring The land with their lives, — Behold ! — Hearken ! THE LAND OF THE AlOVWAS 25 Dmnont comes forward and stands beside Evening Sky. The wand changes into his grasp. Evening Sky lifts his hands in blessing and then begins his retreat to a position beside Coyote. Music in the pauses interpreting the changes. Enter Hunters and Trappers ; they move slowly across the stage. DUMONT. In the wilderness the rifles bellow To scurry and flurry of wing and paw ; The deer feed far from the native thicket. Enter Woodmen, Carpenters, Farmers, Drovers ; their families follow; a Schoolmistress luith a group of chil- dren. DuMONT. Axe and hammer echo in rivers ; Cowbells tinkle, schoolbells clang. By bridge and hill the wagons rattle. Enter Teamsters, Factory Workers, Mechanics. DuMONT. Tasseling corn waves in the wind ; Above tall chimneys tasseling smoke. Over trafiicking cities a blur of smoke. The vision grows ! Behold, hearken ! The music assumes a new range and passes from splen- dor to splendor. Enter Architects, Builders, Engineers. DuMONT. Like thunderheads climbing a sunset sky Their columned walls arise. They harness the moon and the mountain snow ; Butterflies play in the meadow, Winged men play in the clouds. Ill iiiiiiiii 018 3i8 780 2 t Hollinger Corp. pH 8.5