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 THE v«/«V4B/^ve/^>v«^» 
 
 GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 A VISION v<s^vM*/*sv-fc/-* 
 
 BY PORTER GARNETT: MUSIC 
 BY EDWARD U G. STRICKLEN/** 
 WITH A COVER DESIGN BY ARTHUR 
 PUTNAM : DECORATIONS BY RALPH 
 WARNER HART &r EUGEN NEUHAUS 
 AND DRAWINGS OF THE COSTUMES 
 AND A DIAGRAM OF THE THEATRE 
 BY THE AUTHOR ^/tt^^^^^ 
 
 THE NINTH GROVE PLAY OF THE BOHEMIAN 
 CLUB OF SAN FRANCISCO AS PRODUCED BY 
 THE AUTHOR AND PERFORMED BY MEMBERS 
 OF THE CLUB IN THE BOHEMIAN GROVE • SONO- 
 MA COUNTY ■ CALIFORNIA : ON THE OCCASION 
 OF THE CLUB'S THIRTY-FOURTH ANNUAL 
 MIDSUMMER JINKS : THE TWELFTH 
 NIGHT OF AUGUST • NINE- 
 TEEN HUNDRED & 
 ELEVEN 
 
 PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR 
 THE BOHEMIAN CLUB BY 
 SOME OF ITS MEMBERS 
 SAN FRANCISCO : MCMXI 
 
 
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 Copyright, 1 9 1 1 
 
 by the 
 Bohemian Club 
 
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 The author and the composer gratefully 
 acknowledge their indebtedness to Mr. 
 Isaac O. Up ham and to those members 
 through whose generosity the publication 
 of this book has been made possible. 
 
Be still. The Hanging Gardens were a dream 
 
 That over Persian roses flew to kiss 
 
 The curled lashes of Semiramis. 
 
 Troy never was, nor green Skamander stream. 
 
 Provence and Troubadour are merest lies. 
 
 The glorious hair of Venice was a beam 
 
 Made within Titian's eye. The sunsets seem. 
 
 The world is very old and nothing is. 
 
 Be still. Thou foolish thing, thou canst not wake. 
 
 Nor thy tears wedge thy soldered lids apart, 
 
 But patter in the darkness of thy heart. 
 
 Thy brain is plagued. Thou art a frighted owl 
 
 Blind with the light of life thou'ldst not forsake. 
 
 And Error loves and nourishes thy soul. 
 
 — Trumbull Stickney. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 "After the prattise the theory." 
 
 •t is now nine years since the first grove play — The 
 Man in the Forest , by Charles K. Field, with music 
 by Joseph D. Redding — was produced by the Bo- 
 hemian Club. Since that time the plays that have 
 been given at the annual Midsummer Jinks have 
 presented many interesting phenomena. They have 
 exhibited, for example, the methods employed by 
 the various authors to fit their works into the pecul- 
 iar physical conditions of our forest theatre with its 
 hillside stage, and the manner in which they have 
 sought to interpret the spirit of "The Grove. ,, 
 
 The term "Grove spirit" is at best an illusive 
 one, connoting as it does a wide range of implica- 
 tions from an ordinary and traditional sentiment to 
 those subtler aesthetic reactions which the possibili- 
 ties for the creation of art that reside in the place 
 arouse. It is the " Grove spirit" that produces the 
 grove play; an art-work for presentation in a 
 theatre completely and happily independent of all 
 extra-aesthetic considerations of popular or commer- 
 cial success ; an art-work of which the author is ab- 
 solute autocrat, not only of its literary content but 
 
 [vii] 
 
Introduction 
 
 of the produ&Ion itself, provided he has the technical 
 knowledge and experience necessary to make him inde- 
 pendent of a stage-manager. It is such an opportunity 
 as this that the Bohemian Club gives to its members — 
 an opportunity which it is safe to say is not to be found 
 anywhere else in the world. But the Bohemian Club is 
 able to give this opportunity because, and only because, 
 of its Grove, which through its acquisition by the club 
 was saved from destruction, and which may be said to 
 crystallize for its devotees, in some spiritual sense, the 
 universal love of Nature, and to concentrate this love 
 within itself. It is not so much that the Bohemian Club 
 possesses a certain number of acres of forest land, but 
 that it possesses a certain portion of Nature — a certain 
 portion of Beauty. 
 
 It is the " Grove spirit" that has spurred the musicians 
 and writers of the club to undertake the labor of produc- 
 ing its grove plays — labor of such magnitude that per- 
 sons who do not understand the "Grove spirit" wonder 
 that so much effort and enthusiasm should be expended 
 upon plays which are not only produced but once, but 
 which are so shaped to the conditions of the theatre that 
 a repetition elsewhere (even were it desired, which it is 
 not) would be impossible. It is the "Grove spirit" that 
 induces the actors and those who assist in the produc- 
 tion — from the stage-director to the man who plants a 
 fern on the hillside — to do each his quota of the labor, 
 to perform each his service for the Cause, the Cause of 
 Beauty. It is this condition, foreign to the practises of pro- 
 fessionalism, that goes far toward upholding the aesthetic 
 standard of the Bohemian productions. Lastly, it is the 
 cc Grove spirit" that makes a certain number of the audi- 
 ence — by reason of their possession or their apprehen- 
 
 [ viii ] 
 
Introduction 
 
 sion of it — feel that they are participants in a rite, not 
 spectators at an entertainment. 
 
 The ritualistic character of the grove play is its most 
 precious heritage from the earlier festivals of the club. 
 It is the single modern instance of the communal idea in 
 relation to the theatre ; the recrudescence of the spirit of 
 the essentially ritualistic Greek drama; the most nearly 
 complete realization of the dream of free art. 
 
 This ritualistic character of the grove play is expressed 
 through the Care motive, the Bohemia or Preserver 
 motive, and the Brotherhood motive. The first of these 
 motives is commonly introduced by means of a character 
 in the play symbolizing the Spirit of Care. Again and 
 again, through the fabric of poetry, music, and spectacle, 
 this maleficent spirit obtrudes his hideous presence, utter- 
 ing threats and vituperation, only to be discomfited and 
 slain in the end by some god or hero symbolizing good- 
 ness and right who is the savior of the grove and its 
 denizens. The Preserver motive enters in the person 
 of the conqueror of Care. The Brotherhood motive is 
 usually presented in a speech by this central character or 
 some other, forming a peroration at or near the end of 
 the play, in which the philosophic purpose or message of 
 the play is expressed. 
 
 All of these ritualistic elements enter into the con- 
 struction of The Green Knight. I have not, however, 
 rendered the Brotherhood motive as founded in the Chris- 
 tian tenet of the brotherhood of humanity, but as the 
 brotherhood of art, bound together — not too closely, it 
 is true — by the pagan notion of the worship of beauty. 
 This pagan ideal is expressed in The Green Knight in 
 terms of Christianity. I have sought at the same time to 
 express in the solitary figure of the Green Knight, even 
 
 [he] 
 
Introduction 
 
 as he proclaims the divine attributes of Beauty, the ulti- 
 mate loneliness of the artist. 
 
 In considering the development of the grove play, the 
 most interesting fads presented are, first, the originality 
 of form, and, second, the manner in which the tastes and 
 tendencies of the authors — now classic, now romantic — 
 have been expressed in types of plays which are readily 
 classifiable. 
 
 There are four classes or types of grove plays. These 
 are, the romantic-realistic ( The Man in the Forest, by 
 Charles K. Field, and The Cave Man, by the same author), 
 the romantic-idealistic ( The Hamadryads, by Will Irwin, 
 and The Triumph of Bohemia, by George Sterling), the 
 historical {Montezuma, by Louis A. Robertson, and St. 
 Patrick at Tara, by H. Morse Stephens), and the myth- 
 ological ( The §)uest of the Gorgon, by Newton J. Tharp, 
 and The Sons of Baldur, by Herman ScherTauer). 
 
 In all of these plays a conscious or unconscious origi- 
 nality of form has been manifested in certain character- 
 istics distinct from those that have been inherited from 
 other types of the drama, from music-drama, and from 
 opera. The influence of different genres may be observed 
 operating in varying degrees according to the leanings 
 of the authors and composers. I have pointed out in 
 The Bohemian Jinks, a Treatise, the curious and interesting 
 parallelisms with the Elizabethan masque that have been 
 displayed in some of the grove plays. 
 
 On the occasion of the production of The Hamadryads, 
 in 1904, I alluded to the marked trend toward a "new 
 art form" exhibited in that play. I have abundant reason 
 for doubting that my meaning was generally understood, 
 for since that time the term " new form " has been applied 
 with the greatest looseness and impertinence (in the stricter 
 
 [*] 
 
Introduction 
 
 sense of the word) to all the grove plays. In point of 
 fad: the tendency toward a new form — other than in 
 certain peculiarities of shape imposed by the conditions — 
 has not been evinced to any considerable extent except 
 in The Hamadryads and The Triumph of Bohemia. (It is 
 perhaps unnecessary to say that this asseveration has 
 nothing whatever to do with the merits of the other 
 grove plays as works of literary and musical art.) 
 
 It will be noted that these two plays belong to the 
 class that has been described as romantic-idealistic. They 
 are essentially imaginative in plot and employ only super- 
 natural characters or, as in Mr. Sterling's play, certain 
 mortals removed from the realm of the spectator's uni- 
 verse by the magic of poetry. They differ from The 
 Man in the Forest and The Cave Man in the fact that 
 although the last-mentioned plays are imaginative in plot 
 they seek to depict realistically the facts of human experi- 
 ence. The Hamadryads and The Triumph of Bohemia differ 
 from all the other grove plays in the fundamental fact 
 that the plots of all the other plays have been based to a 
 greater or less extent upon historical or mythological 
 characters and texts. 
 
 In addressing myself to the task of writing a grove 
 play I found myself under the necessity either of select- 
 ing one of the established classes in which to couch my 
 endeavor or of producing a play that should call for a new 
 classification. It is the latter course that I have chosen. 
 
 Taking the romantic-idealistic type of grove play as a 
 foundation I have attempted to carry on in The Green 
 Knight the trend toward form implicit in The Hamadryads 
 and The Triumph of Bohemia ; to reduce this tendency to 
 a canon of stage art conditioned by the physical character 
 and the spirit of the Bohemian Grove. 
 
 [xi] 
 
Introduction 
 
 This attempt is due to no trivial desire to do the thing 
 differently, but is born of an anarchic conviction which is 
 the result of some eight years' study of the grove play as 
 a problem in aesthetics. 
 
 To contend that in art the only things worth doing 
 are the things that have not been done is, in the opinion 
 of most persons, to utter a heresy; it is as a matter of 
 fact to utter what is almost a platitude. But in doing the 
 thing that has not been done, it is not sufficient that the 
 artist should depart from precedent — he must advance his 
 art. As Wagner says in A Communication to My Friends^ 
 the artist must " necessarily throw forward to the future 
 the realization of his highest artistic wish, as to a life en- 
 franchised from the tyranny of both Monument and 
 Mode." The same idea was expressed by Paul Gauguin 
 when he remarked to a friend, "In art there are only 
 revolutionists and plagiarists." 
 
 The most revolutionary departure from the earlier 
 forms of the grove play effected in "The Green Knight is 
 the elimination of singing. I have obtained thereby for 
 the grove play a divorce ( alas, only an interlocutory de- 
 cree ) from its mesalliance with opera, the strumpet of art. 
 
 It would be a work of supererogation at this time of 
 day to state the case against opera. Voltaire called works 
 in the genre, "monstrous and unnatural productions," and 
 the majority of aestheticians since his time have taken their 
 flings at its fallacies. Wagner, who wrote his hundreds of 
 pages to expose these fallacies, gives us the kernel of the 
 whole question in a single sentence upon which he bestows 
 all the emphasis of bold type. "The error," he says, "in 
 the art-genre of Opera consists herein : that a means of 
 expression (Music) has been made the end, while the 
 End of expression ( the Drama ) has been made a means." 
 
 [xii] 
 
Introduction 
 
 The omission of singing may be considered a sacrifice, 
 but it is a sacrifice only of what is termed "effectiveness." 
 With this and other threadbare means of achieving " ef- 
 fectiveness" ready to hand, I have preferred to put them 
 aside rather than avail myself of their cheap aid, and to 
 depend upon suggestion for the higher effectiveness, the 
 less immediate but more profound response. Gordon 
 Craig says in an essay on The Artists of the Theatre of the 
 Future : " Once let the meaning of this word Beauty begin 
 to be thoroughly felt once more in the theatre, and we 
 may say that the awakening day of the theatre is near. 
 Once let the word 'effective* be wiped off our lips, and 
 they will be ready to speak this word Beauty." 
 
 It has been my purpose therefore to create an art-work 
 that is entirely imaginative and that is informed with 
 beauty — a drama that shall invite, not the superficial 
 emotive response, but a response of the spirit, less easily 
 to be attained and for that reason more to be desired. 
 In. other words, I have aimed not so much at expression 
 as at evocation — not so much at statement (which is 
 never art) as at suggestion (in which art has its only 
 existence). I am depending on the receptive imagination 
 of the auditor and the spectator, without which, as Joubert 
 says, "la sensibilite est reduit au moment ou Von exist e; les 
 sensations sont plus vives,plus courtes, et n ont point d'har- 
 monie dans leur succession" 
 
 The chief factors of dramatic " effectiveness," as it is 
 understood in the debauched theatre of commerce, are 
 "Human Interest" and "Sex Interest," operating through 
 sentiment and passion rather than through intellect. Now 
 human interest as an appeal to sentiment or as a bid for suc- 
 cess is an extra-aesthetic consideration, and extra-aesthetic 
 considerations, as I have already said, have (ideally) no 
 
 [xiii] 
 
Introduction 
 
 place in the grove play. The human motive (which is 
 and must be the foundation of all drama) is expressed in 
 The Green Knight symbolically. "We are coming closer to 
 nature, as we seem to shrink from it with something of 
 horror," says Arthur Symons in The Symbolist Movement 
 in Literature. "And as we brush aside the accidents of 
 daily life, in which men and women feel that they are 
 alone touching reality, we come closer to humanity." 
 
 I have dispensed with the sex element entirely, not 
 only because it is not essential to free drama, but because 
 it has no place in the ritual of a man's club. Another 
 reason for this omission is that in the grove play female 
 characters must be figured by men, and it is better to 
 avoid such a demand upon illusion. 
 
 I do not intend to make here an exhaustive analysis 
 of the form of The Green Knight , but merely to consider 
 some of its archetectonic elements in their aesthetic and 
 technical aspects. I have prefaced these considerations 
 with the phrase, " After the practise the theory " (which 
 I borrow from the title-page of that most precious of 
 magazines devoted to the drama, The Mask), because 
 much that is here set down in terms of theory was, in the 
 planning and composition of the play, the expression of 
 temperamental inclination. I mean by this that I did not 
 in preparing my scenario measure the classic element in- 
 troduced in the adjustments essential to form with the 
 foot rules of Aristotle or Lessing, nor in writing the play 
 did I weigh the romantic elements of suggestion and at- 
 mosphere in the scales of Plato, Rousseau, Novalis, or 
 Schlegel. Whatever appearance of adjustment between 
 the classic and the romantic elements there may be has 
 been instinctive rather than deliberate. 
 
 The Green Knight bears the sub-title, "A Vision." I 
 
 [xiv] 
 
Introduction 
 
 have attempted in it to externalize the illusion of a dream ; 
 to conjure from the hillside a drama of "the Other-World 
 of Dreams," peopled with beings of fancy whose existence 
 is of the present as is the existence of the unsubstantial 
 creatures that visit us in sleep. It is a drama of the spiritual 
 macroscosm of which the spirit of the spectator is the 
 microcosm. 
 
 I have endeavored to keep secret from the members 
 of the club the nature of the play and the identity of the 
 participants in order to carry the illusion as far as possible 
 toward that perfection in which the individuality of the 
 actor is completely lost in that of the character he figures. 
 
 One cannot consider the question of illusion without 
 one's mind turning to the Pensees of Joubert from which 
 I have quoted above. I cannot do better here, however, 
 than to set down an epitome of his "thoughts" on 
 this subject as given by Professor Babbitt in his delight- 
 ful book, The New Laokoon: "Joubert remarks . . . that 
 spirit and matter come into relation with one another 
 only through the medium of illusion; and he goes on to 
 say some of the most penetrating things that have been 
 said by any writer about the role of imaginative illusion 
 in mediating between the lower and the higher nature 
 of man. . . . Joubert, then, conceives it to be the role of 
 the imagination, mediating as it does between sense and 
 reason, to lend its magic and glamour to the latter, to 
 throw as it were a veil of divine illusion over some essen- 
 tial truth." 
 
 In all the grove plays there has been a primary dis- 
 tinction in form imposed by the physical conditions of 
 the locus and by the fact that they are restricted in length. 
 It is to be observed also that the best examples conform 
 to the Greek unities of time, place, and action. Again, 
 
 [XV] 
 
Introduction 
 
 the scene is necessarily laid in a forest, although in one 
 instance {Montezuma) this fact was ignored. Other char- 
 acteristics that have obtained in some of the grove plays 
 though not in all should, in the writer's opinion, be re- 
 garded as principles of the form. These are : 
 
 (i) The setting should have no relation to geography. 
 The spectator should not be called upon to adjust his 
 mind to regarding the action as taking place in this or that 
 locality, as was the case in Montezuma when he was asked 
 to consider the stage as the summit of a teocalli in Mexico, 
 and in St. Patrick at Tara in which the action purported 
 to take place in Ireland. With the opportunity that the 
 writers of grove plays have to get away from the artificial 
 conditions of the playhouse it seems unwise for them to 
 demand an adjustment that is not only psychologically 
 impossible but unnecessary. For this reason I maintain 
 that the scene of a grove play should be as it has been in 
 most of them, simply "a forest." 
 
 (2) For similar reasons the time should be indeter- 
 minate, not, for example, in 1520 as in Montezuma or in 
 432 as in St. Patrick. 
 
 (3) Since the performance takes place at night, the 
 action of the play should not call for daylight, artificially 
 and unconvincingly created by means of calciums. 
 
 The tendency toward definiteness of form my be said 
 to exist in the fulfilment of these principles, and their 
 actual fulfilment is found in Mr. Irwin's 'The Hamadryads 
 and in Mr. Sterling's The Triumph of Bohemia. To carry 
 on this trend toward form and to fashion a play that should 
 not only contain these principles, but should borrow none 
 of its elements of form from other genres — poetic drama, 
 music-drama, opera — has been my object in writing The 
 Green Knight. In other words, my purpose has been to 
 
 [xvi] 
 
Introduction 
 
 establish within a limited field a new canon of the drama. 
 How successful I have been my readers must judge for 
 themselves. 
 
 The first step in this revolutionary attempt was, as I 
 have stated above, to divorce the grove play from opera 
 while retaining the factors of poetry and music in a more 
 legitimate intimacy. The most important principle intro- 
 duced in the play has to do with the interrelation and 
 balance of the three factors of poetry, music, and spectacle. 
 It may be stated as a formula thus: The duration and 
 content of the successive and concurrent episodes of poetry, 
 music, and speclacle are adjusted to a purely esthetic de- 
 mand for an alteration of interest. That is to say, when 
 one element or a combination of elements has held the 
 attention to a point whereat a new interest for the eye 
 or the ear is aesthetically desirable, a new interest is 
 supplied. It is a function of criticism to determine at 
 what point the introduction of a new interest is aestheti- 
 cally desirable; it is the artist's business to see that the 
 new interest shall be aesthetically adequate. To restate 
 the principle by means of illustration : If the music give 
 way to poetry, the episode during which the orchestra is 
 silent must not be prolonged beyond the point whereat 
 the reintroduction of music would be aesthetically desir- 
 able ; per contra, an episode that is chiefly musical or one 
 that is chiefly spectacular must be relieved by another 
 element before it is carried into the quicksands of tedium. 
 It will be readily seen how the adjustment of the various 
 elements may be made to affect the movement of the 
 action. 
 
 Some of my readers, credulous of the chimera Inspira- 
 tion, have already satisfied themselves that a work con- 
 structed by such means must perforce show the traces of 
 
 [xvii] 
 
Introduction 
 
 its mechanical creation, but the determining of the epi- 
 sodes is a thing arrived at not through intellection but 
 through aesthetic judgment. The arrangement is objecti- 
 fied on the basis of the hypothetical psychoses of the 
 "ideal spectator"; that is to say, it is approximated by 
 the artist to what he feels , not to what he thinks are the 
 desires of the person of taste. 
 
 It is by the addition of the element of music to the 
 elements of poetry and spectacle that the grove play is 
 differentiated from the various forms of poetic drama. It 
 must be noted also that the relation of the music to the 
 other elements is often (and should always be) of a sort 
 that makes the music more than merely incidental. In 
 spite of the fact that The Green Knight contains no sing- 
 ing, the musical element is given in this play greater 
 prominence, independence, and responsibility than it has 
 had in other grove plays. It plays a more important 
 part in the structure of the play. It is brought, in fact, to 
 a point beyond which it would be impossible to go with- 
 out forcing upon the music an over-emphasis that would 
 be destructive of artistic symmetry. "The relation in 
 which music places itself to poetry," says Ambros, "is pe- 
 culiar when it has the mission of uniting itself to a spoken 
 drama" Continuing with a consideration of certain works 
 of this kind, particularly Beethoven's Egmont music, he 
 says, " Compositions of the kind address the theatre in the 
 language of Scipio : 'Nee ossa mea habebis, ingrata patria> 
 throw around themselves the beggar's cloak of a c con- 
 necting declamation,' and withdraw into the concert hall. 
 
 "' Why, ye poor fools, for such a paltry end, 
 
 Plague the coy muse, and court her fair regards?"' 
 
 "It is extremely hard," he concludes, "for the com- 
 poser to hit the golden mean so as not on the one hand 
 
 [xviii] 
 
Introduction 
 
 to let his music sink down to padding and patchwork, 
 nor, on the other hand, to claim obtrusively too great in- 
 dependent value by the side of the poetical work." 
 
 The real difficulty lies in the fact that works of this 
 sort are never the result of a true collaboration. The 
 musician takes the finished work of the poet and applies 
 music to it as one might apply color to a statue. Such a 
 method as this prevents the music from being an integral 
 part of the art-work. Eliminate the music and the poetic 
 text retains its integrity — its completeness. It might be 
 argued that a "lyrical action" written in collaboration by 
 Maeterlinck and Debussy would be a finer work of art 
 qua art than the Pelleas et Melisande of Maeterlinck plus 
 Debussy which Lawrence Gilman calls <c the perfect mu- 
 sic-drama." Of such a work George Lilley could not say 
 as he does of Pelleas et Melisande in a recent article in the 
 Contemporary Review ', " a few incidents have been omitted, 
 sacrificed of necessity to considerations of duration." 
 
 It will hardly be denied that, ideally, an art-work in- 
 volving both poetry and music should be conceived in 
 terms of the two arts. It is this method that Mr. Strick- 
 len and the writer employed in The Green Knight. The 
 musical element in its association with the plot was com- 
 pletely worked out before the composition of the music 
 or the writing of the play was begun. The two elements, 
 together with the mise en scene ( spectacle, lighting, stage- 
 craft, costume, etc.), were given form concurrently and 
 each episode was completed before passing to the next. 
 As a result of this method there are ten episodes in which 
 the music is an essential part of the dramatic structure. 
 In three of these poetry plays a subordinate part; in one, 
 a part equivalent to the music; and in six, the music 
 carries the discourse unassisted by the spoken word. It 
 
 [xix] 
 
Introduction 
 
 is curious to note in this connection what Wagner has to 
 say in Opera and Drama on the subject of collaboration. 
 His remarks are particularly interesting because, in the 
 minds of most persons, Wagner stands committed to the 
 one-man method that he himself employed. He says: 
 "The Poet and Musician are very well thinkable as 
 two persons. In fact the Musician, in his practical inter- 
 mediation between the poetic aim and its final bodily 
 realizement through an actual scenic representation, might 
 necessarily be conditioned by the Poet as a separate per- 
 son, and, indeed, a younger than himself. . . . This younger 
 person, through standing closer to Life's instinctive ut- 
 terance — especially (aucb) in its lyric moments, — might 
 well appear to the more experienced, more reflecting Poet, 
 as more fitted to realize his aim than he himself is." 
 Wagner did not undertake collaboration for the reasons 
 contained in the following passage : " If we consider the 
 present attitude assumed by Poet and Musician toward 
 one another, and if we find it ordered by the same maxims 
 of self-restriction and egoistic severance, as those which 
 govern all the factors of our modern social State : then 
 we cannot but feel that, in an unworthy public system 
 where every man is bent upon shining for himself alone, 
 there none but the individual Unit can take into himself 
 the spirit of Community, and cherish it and develop it 
 according to his powers." He adds in a note, "No one 
 can be better aware than myself, that the realizement of 
 this ["Perfected"] Drama depends on conditions which 
 do not lie within the will, nay, not even within the capa- 
 bility (Fdhigkeit) of the Unit, but only in Community, 
 and in a mutual co-operation made possible thereby." * 
 
 * Richard Wagner's Prose Works t translated by William Ashton Ellis. Vol. II ( Opera 
 and Drama), pp. 355-356. 
 
Introduction 
 
 We come now to characteristics of the play which have 
 to do with both the static element of form and the dynamic 
 element of treatment. These are (i) the employment of 
 musical accompaniment for spoken lines and (2) the varia- 
 tion of rhythms. 
 
 To ignore the possibilities of the human voice com- 
 bined with music or treated as an instrument itself is to 
 ignore a field for aesthetic effort that has been only par- 
 tially explored and one that offers many allurements and 
 opportunities. We have behind us in this field certain 
 forms of the Greek fxekoiroua^ the melologues of Berlioz, 
 and the recitative of the Italians and of Wagner. In our 
 own time we have the musical elocution of Debussy's 
 Pelleas et Melisande, the experiments in accompanied 
 recitation made by William Butler Yeats and Arnold 
 Dolmetsch, and many works of the type of Richard 
 Strauss's melodrame setting of Enoch Arden^ which Arthur 
 Symons describes as done "after that hopelessly wrong 
 fashion which Schumann set in his lovely music to Man- 
 fred" To these may be added the banalities of free 
 musical accompaniment to the spoken word. 
 
 The reader will find in Mr. Stricklen's Synopsis of the 
 Music an illustration of the method we have employed in 
 associating the "word-speech" and the "tone-speech" in 
 one of the episodes of 'The Green Knight. It will be noted 
 therein how the method differs from others in that the 
 relation of the word-speech and tone-speech does not de- 
 pend merely upon occasional fixed or arbitrary points of 
 contact, but provides a virtually unbroken parallel be- 
 tween the rhythm pattern of the poetry and that of the 
 accompaniment. The music has been consistently brought 
 to the words in both configuration and atmosphere. In 
 Debussy's method the voice part (according to Lawrence 
 
 [xxi] 
 
Introduction 
 
 Gilman "an electrified and heightened form of speech") 
 though unmelodic is still musical ; that is to say, musical 
 intervals and variations of pitch based on these intervals 
 are taken into account. It calls for what Aristoxenus 
 termed the £C discrete " as against the " continuous " move- 
 ment of the voice. In the method employed for The 
 Green Knight no account is taken in the voice part of the 
 restricted musical intervals, for, although much has been 
 done by Helmholz, Merkel, and others toward determin- 
 ing the relative pitch of the voice in pronouncing the 
 various sounds of the vowels and in the variations arising 
 from accent and emphasis, it is impossible to indicate the 
 pitch of the human voice except on the basis of the re- 
 stricted intervals of the musical scale. Musical notation 
 has been employed to indicate the quantitative value of 
 syllable and pause producing the rhythm pattern of the 
 speech which is the basis of the musical parallel. 
 
 The variation of rhythms alluded to above is carried 
 out in the assignment of different rhythms to different 
 characters. The employment of different rhythms for 
 purposes of variety is characteristic of the Greek drama 
 and occurs in plays of all periods, but as far as I can 
 ascertain no attempt has before been made to identify 
 certain rhythms with certain characters. The various 
 rhythms employed in The Green Knight are intended to 
 bear an atmospheric relation to the attributes of the char- 
 acters, each rhythm constituting a kind of poetic leitmotif. 
 The lines that may be said to form the dramatic frame- 
 work of the play are in the unrhymed iambic pentameter 
 of ordinary blank verse. In this class fall the lines of the 
 Black Knight (except in the invocation to Sathanas for 
 which a dactylic rhythm is employed), the Prince, Sa- 
 thanas, Archolon, and the King. The Elf- King whose 
 
 [xxii] 
 
Introduction 
 
 lines are lyrical speaks in rhymed trimeter and tetrameter. 
 To Madolor the malignant and scurrilous dwarf a rhyth- 
 mical prose is given. The Green Knight, after the silence 
 he maintains for some time following his entrance, finally 
 speaks in trochaic rhythm which is brought into imme- 
 diate contrast with the iambic measures of the other 
 characters and is intended to emphasize his divine aloof- 
 ness. In his final speech, an apostrophe to Beauty, which 
 by reason of the relation that its content bears to the play 
 as a whole should have a salient character of its own, I 
 have preserved the trochaic rhythm of his other speeches 
 and have sought to attain the desired effect by adding the 
 dactyllic foot of the hendecasyllabic verse. 
 
 There is much that might be said of a technical nature 
 regarding such elements of the grove play as the lighting, 
 the arrangement or composition of the spectacle in its 
 relation to the scale of the hillside, the functions of cos- 
 tume, color psychology, etc., but these matters are of in- 
 terest only to the technician. 
 
 In a play such as I have endeavored to produce in 
 The Green Knight — a play in which atmosphere, illusion, 
 suggestion are primary considerations — acting, as it is 
 commonly practised and commonly understood, would 
 defeat the playwright's aim. The effort of the individual 
 actor to be in his own part as "effective" as possible 
 could result in nothing but the tearing asunder of what- 
 ever veil of illusion may have been woven by Poetry on 
 the loom of Nature. It is interpretation, therefore, rather 
 than acting that will be sought in the production. 
 
 As I end these considerations, written at a time when 
 the realization of the work of which they treat is not 
 far distant, I may be forgiven if I close with the same 
 words in which three years ago I concluded my book on 
 
 [ xxiii ] 
 
Introduction 
 
 the grove plays of the Bohemian Club. In doing so I 
 hope that I have not failed to live up to the ideals there- 
 in expressed: 
 
 "At a time when the creative impulses that stir in this 
 far Western country with its smiling Italian skies and its 
 atmosphere of the youth of the world; a land hospitable 
 to the seeds of art that, even amid the weeds of provin- 
 cialism and the worms of bourgeois bigotry and ignorance, 
 give promise of blossoms with something of the fineness 
 and rarity of old-world flowers — one cannot but specu- 
 late upon the destiny of this interesting exotic, the Bo- 
 hemian Club grove play. Has it said all that it has to 
 say ? Is the spell of T^he Hamadryads^ the sustained charm 
 of ^he triumph of Bohemia to be reached again ? Will the 
 balance between the various factors — the dramatic, the 
 musical, and the spectacular — be maintained, or will the 
 zeal of the actor, of the musician, or of the artist tend, by 
 forcing an over-emphasis upon one of these factors, to 
 formulate a new type or cause a reversion to an old one? 
 Should any of these things occur the grove plays will un- 
 doubtedly lose the distinction that they now have and will 
 become mere reflections of other forms of stage presenta- 
 tion. . . . The greatest danger is that they will degenerate 
 into more or less commonplace drama or opera. Like 
 water that has been carried to a height they will sink to 
 their own level again the moment the force that has driven 
 them upward is withdrawn. Having its origin in the 
 drama the grove play has been swept, one might say, by 
 c the supreme interference of beauty/ in a series of concat- 
 enated creative impulses into what is as much entitled to 
 the name of a new art form as the Wagnerian music-drama. 
 It remains to be seen whether or not it will revert to the 
 parent stock and be lost as a distinct genre. 
 
 [xxiv] 
 
Introduction 
 
 "Ideally it should be poetic not only in treatment but 
 in conception; the musical element should not be melo- 
 dramatic, but conceived in the same poetic spirit; and the 
 whole interpreted discreetly by action and spectacle. 
 
 " With these qualities the Bohemian grove play gives to 
 those who react to its spirit, who appreciate it in its relation 
 to its environment, and who register its implications, an 
 impression of what can be likened to nothing so fitly as 
 to a mysterious and unforgettable dream." 
 
 P. G. 
 Berkeley, California. 
 July 14, 191 1. 
 
 [xxv] 
 
PERSONS OF THE VISION 
 
 NEOTIOS, a wood-god 
 THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 THE BLACK KNIGHT 
 THE ELF-KING 
 THE PRINCE 
 MADOLOR, a dwarf 
 ARCHOLON, a priest 
 SATHANAS] 
 THE KING j 
 AN ELF 
 
 FIRST KNIGHT 
 SECOND KNIGHT 
 THIRD KNIGHT 
 FOURTH KNIGHT 
 AN ANGEL 
 
 persona mutce* 
 
 Mr. Herbert Heron 
 Mr. Ernest S. Simpson 
 Mr. Marshall Darrach 
 Mr. Charles K. Field 
 Mr. Harold K. Baxter 
 Mr. William H. Smith, Jr. 
 Mr. Charles C. Trowbridge 
 
 Mr. John Housman 
 
 Mr. Harris C. Allen 
 Mr. James G. Melvin 
 Mr. Robert Melvin 
 Mr. George Purlenky 
 Mr. Theodore G. Elliott 
 Mr. Harry P. Carlton 
 
 Elves, Goblins, Moonbeams, Captives 
 
 Time : The Present, a Midsummer Night 
 Place : A Forest in the Other-World of Dreams 
 
 [ xxvii ] 
 
The author has been assisted by Mr. 
 Edward J. Dujfey in the technical 
 execution of the lighting scheme, by 
 Mr. Harry Stuart Fonda in the prep- 
 aration of the stage and properties ', 
 by Mr. George B. de Long in devising 
 and rehearsing the Dance of the Moon- 
 beams, and by Messrs. Harris C. Allen 
 and Edward E. Jones in devising and 
 rehearsing the Dance of the Elves. 
 
 Orchestra : Eight first violins, six second violins , 
 four violas , four violoncellos, four double-basses, two 
 flutes (piccolo), two oboes, two clarinets, two bas- 
 soons, two trumpets, four horns, three trombones, 
 tuba, harp, tympani and drums. Concert Master, 
 William F. Hofmann. 
 
 Conductor, Edward G. Stricklen. 
 
 [ xxviii ] 
 
THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 It is just before moonrise. The place is at the foot of a 
 wooded hillside in a forest of gigantic trees. In the foreground 
 there is an open space or glade ', around which the clean shafts 
 of the trees rise to a great height, Their branches ', bearing 
 heavy foliage, extend to a height as great again and are lost 
 in the blackness of the night sky. The nearest trees frame the 
 view of the glade and hillside. The latter is shrouded in im- 
 penetrable darkness. As the moon rises it may be seen that 
 the slope at the back of the glade is an open space more or less 
 irregularly inclosed by trees. It terminates well up the ascent 
 at a group of three trees. Beyond, a dense growth of foliage 
 shuts off from view the upper part of the hill. Below this point 
 the terraces of the hillside are covered with ferns and vines, 
 through which a winding path, wholly concealed by the lux- 
 uriant foliage, crosses and recrosses the hillside at different 
 levels. It reaches the floor of the glade at the back and on 
 the left, from which point it ranges upward and into the wood 
 on that side. This wild spot is in the innermost depths of a 
 great forest in the Other-World of Dreams. From a tree 
 near the place where the path enters, a dull brazen shield 
 is suspended. 
 
 \The sound of a harp is faintly heard from the 
 darkness. As it continues a dim light appears 
 behind two great trees on the farther side of the 
 
 N 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 glade. It grows more intense until it becomes a 
 golden glow. From the thicket between the two 
 trees a naked youth steps forth. On his head he 
 wears a wreath of vine leaves and in his hand 
 he carries a rustic cithara on which, for a moment , 
 he is seen to play a succession of rippling chords, 
 ^he glow fades away, but a mysterious light illu- 
 mines the figure of the youth. He gazes about 
 wonderingly and then walks slowly forward until 
 he reaches the middle of the glade. Wonderingly 
 he speaks.] 
 
 NEOTIOS 
 
 Temple of Peace ! within thy noble walls 
 In humbleness I stand who am a god. 
 
 Here have I come from out the secret wood — 
 
 Neotios, the son of Pan. Behold, 
 
 O mortals favored by the sight of one 
 
 No mortal eye has ever seen before — 
 
 Behold a humble god and be not proud ! 
 
 Abase yourselves before these silent trees 
 
 Wrapped in the solemn mantle of the night; 
 
 For tho' ye all be lovers of the woods, 
 
 And for this reason I am sent to you, 
 
 Bearing the message of my father, yet, 
 
 Love not as masters but as servitors ; 
 
 Think not yourselves too great, O men, for here, 
 
 Amid these giant monuments of eld, 
 
 Ye are but puny things that live and die 
 
 Like traceless moments in eternity ! 
 
 Be lovers, then, but humble lovers. Yield 
 
 All reverence to your leafy masters. Bow 
 
 Before them, worship them, and know content. 
 
 [*] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 Thus have all wise men worshiped forest fanes 
 Since forests granted grateful shade to man, 
 And wood-gods hid where netted shadows fell, 
 Or danced and wantoned with the shining nymphs. 
 
 And now, ye mortals, ye that give your hearts 
 To labor and to strife and earthly hopes, 
 And, giving, suffer 'neath the crush of Care, — 
 Because ye have not bartered all your souls, 
 But saved for him a moiety of love, 
 Pan bids me give you greeting in his name. 
 
 Welcome, mortals, to this charmed grove ! 
 Welcome to this temple old and dim ! 
 Welcome to this dwelling-place of peace ! 
 Forget your toil, remember not your strife, 
 And banish from ye every thought of care! 
 So may ye, like to little children who 
 In innocence lie down to rest, be lulled 
 To an enchanted sleep wherein the night 
 Shall fabric visions for your souls' delight. 
 
 Dream, mortal men ! Dream!. ..Dream!... 
 
 Dream! .. . Dream!. .. This hour 
 Is granted unto you by gracious gods. . . . 
 Dream, mortal men, while breezes thro* the boughs 
 Waft strains of gentlest music to your ears ! . . . 
 Hark! litanies of trembling moonlit leaves 
 Invite my lyre. . . . 
 
 \He strikes his cithara and continuing to play rippling 
 chords he speaks the following lines.] 
 
 The echoes answer low. . . . 
 Dream, mortal men ! . . . Soon, chord on sounding chord, 
 
 [3] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 The forest will be swept with melody. . . . 
 
 Sleep!. ..Dream '....Forget dull Care!... 
 Farewell! . . . 
 
 \^As he speaks the last words neotios slowly leaves 
 the glade playing on his cithara and pausing after 
 each admonition, 'The rippling chords of the cithara 
 are expressed by a series of arpeggios on the harp. 
 They form the introdutlion to the Prelude, which 
 is now played. The glade and hillside remain empty, 
 dark, and silent. The discourse of the Prelude be- 
 gins with an interpretation of the mysteries of the 
 forest and the night. Certain motives are then in- 
 troduced that foreshadow the episodes of the vision. 
 The more important of these — the Green Knight 
 motive and the Black Knight or Care motive — 
 recur frequently. The music swells from the mur- 
 mur ings indicative of the forest at night to the 
 thunders of the Conflitl Music and again sinks 
 into its woodland char abler. A new theme — that 
 of the Elf-King — finally enters, and, at the same 
 time, a figure is vaguely seen moving about in the 
 semi-darkness. The Elf-King motive is developed 
 while the figure, which is that of the elf-king, 
 approaches gradually from the darkness until, com- 
 ing quite near, the rays of the rising moon fall upon 
 him. Over a green hose he wears a short, close- 
 fitting tunic of overlapping green leaves, touched 
 with red and gold. His high sandals are of gold; 
 he wears a head-dress of gold and jewels, fashioned 
 in the form of an owl. A long cloak of dark green 
 gossamer, richly embroidered in gold, flows from 
 his shoulders. He carries a golden wand tipped 
 with jewels. The music continues as he speaks.~\ 
 
 [4] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 THE ELF-KING 
 
 Night, once more, once more 
 
 1 welcome thee ! . . . 
 
 At last 
 Thy shadowy cloak is cast 
 Upon the woodland's floor. 
 What mysteries outpour 
 From forest chambers vast, 
 From aged trees and hoar, 
 Proud heriters of lore, 
 Rich coffers of the past! 
 What golden music sifts 
 Among the boughs, and lifts 
 Its melody on high 
 Where like a flower drifts 
 The moon across the sky ! 
 
 Now Nature in a swoon 
 
 Of love forgets the noon, 
 
 And treetops, tower-stemmed, 
 
 Are brightly diademmed 
 
 By yonder pallid moon; 
 
 A silver lily there, 
 
 In gardens of the air, 
 
 With pale star-blossoms gemmed- 
 
 Pale blossoms that have hemmed 
 
 The dusky robe of Night 
 
 With broideries of light 
 
 Since golden stars and white 
 
 The fair moon made more fair. 
 
 On all the world sweet Sleep 
 Now casts her subtle power; 
 
 [5] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 No life defies the hour; 
 
 No living thing, no flower 
 
 But nestles in the dark; 
 
 No creature dares to peep 
 
 From bramble shadows deep; 
 
 No cry of beast or bird 
 
 In all the wood is heard; 
 
 No voice ... no sound. . . . 
 [An owl hoots softly.'] 
 
 But hark ! 
 
 The owl's nocturnal note 
 
 Gainsays my wasted word ; 
 
 Mysterious and remote, 
 
 His dreary measures float 
 
 Afar off to the shore 
 
 Of the land that's called — No More. 
 \High on the -path in the direction of the moon the 
 youthful figure of a moonbeam, clad in diaphanous 
 garments of pale blue, white, and silver, and 
 crowned with silver rays, appears and descends to 
 the glade. Other moonbeams — twelve in all — 
 follow at intervals?] 
 
 Lo ! down yon pathway steep 
 
 The silent moonbeams creep, 
 
 As from a languid cloud 
 
 The moon, with silver prowed, 
 
 Sails on the searchless deep. 
 
 With noiseless feet they troop 
 
 Where topmost branches droop ; 
 
 Thro' massy trees and tall, 
 
 See how they softly fall 
 
 Like petals on the ground ; 
 
 Like petals wreathing round, 
 
 [6] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 They fall without a sound. 
 Come, moonbeams silver-white ! 
 Come, moonbeams silver-bright! 
 To woodland dark and dumb. 
 Come, moonbeams! . . . Come! . . . 
 
 Come! Come! 
 
 \_As each moonbeam reaches a position in the glade 
 he sinks gently to the ground, his filmy draperies 
 spread about him, and remains motionless until 
 all have so disposed themselves, The music now 
 merges into a slow dance and, one by one, the 
 moonbeams rise and begin to glide about the glade, 
 moving rhythmically around them their floating 
 draperies. In this wise they slip in and out of the 
 shadows cast by the great trees, The elf-king 
 ascends to a station on the lower hillside whence he 
 watches the dancing moonbeams. After a time, he 
 speaks.~\ 
 
 Dance on, dance on, ye moonbeams bright ! 
 Before your gleaming footsteps, see, 
 A shadow hides behind each tree, 
 As tho' it could not bear the sight 
 Of phantoms that adorn the night. 
 Dance on, while to this charmed spot, 
 From bower, coppice, nook, and grot, — 
 From forest shades to drifts of light, 
 I summon goblin, elf, and sprite. 
 [The elf-king turns toward the hillside and, wav- 
 ing his wand now tipped with a point of light, 
 utters a call,'] 
 
 Ho . . . ya-ho . . . yahoyahoyaho ! 
 \_An echo repeats the call from the diretlion of the 
 hill, and, at the same moment, a number of tiny 
 
 [7] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 lights are seen darting hither and thither on the 
 slope. The elf-king calls again.~\ 
 
 Ho . . . ya-ho . . . yahoyahoyaho ! 
 \_The call is again repeated by an echo. Now the 
 heads of elves and goblins peep from the shrubbery, 
 and, springing from their hiding-places , the fairy 
 folk come pouring down into the glade to the accom- 
 paniment of sprightly elfin music and form them- 
 selves into two rings. One of these is in the glade 
 itself and the other surrounds the elf-king on his 
 elevation. In this wise the elves and goblins dance 
 about merrily, The moonbeams withdraw from 
 the center to the outskirts of the glade > and continue 
 to sway their draperies rhythmically. Finally the 
 elfin rings break. The goblins run about pursuing 
 one another playfully. One tries to escape his pur- 
 suer by hiding behind the cloak of the elf-king. 
 Others play leap-frog. Still others dart in and out 
 among the dancing elves. The elf-king looks on 
 indulgently. The Dance of the Elves has con- 
 tinued for some time when the Black Knight or 
 Care theme is heard. The elf-king starts and 
 listens. The Care theme is heard again. He dis- 
 plays increasing alarm.] 
 
 What sound drives silence from the gloom, 
 Where awful shadows gauntly loom, 
 And echoes with the threat of doom? 
 [He listens. The Care theme is heard more insist- 
 ently^ 
 
 Once more the forest sighs, once more 
 The vagrom winds a warning pour 
 From hilltop high to forest floor. 
 \He comes down among the dancing elves and raises 
 
 [8] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 his hand. The elves stop dancing and gather 
 about him.~\ 
 
 Hold ! . . . Stop ! . . . Give heed ! . . . 
 
 AN ELF 
 
 Nay, nay, I plead ! 
 I pray ! 
 
 THE ELF-KING 
 
 Peace ! . . . Peace ! . . . 
 Your dancing cease ! . . . 
 Hark! . . . Hark! . . . There! . . . There! . . . 
 He comes ! . . . Beware 
 Relentless Care! 
 
 an elf \_protesting~\ 
 No, no! 
 
 the elf-king \cautioning\ 
 
 Go ! Go ! 
 
 Thro* dark aisles glide ! . . . 
 
 In bracken hide . . . 
 
 In grasses lush . . . 
 
 In vine and brush . . . 
 
 Hush!... 
 
 Away ! . . . Away ! . . . 
 
 Obey ! . . . 
 \As the elf-king admonishes them, the elves, goblins, 
 and moonbeams withdraw stealthily and enter the 
 shrubbery where they disappear. The elf-king 
 is the last to leave the glade, which now remains 
 empty. During this scene the music is reduced to 
 fragmentary phrases of the Dance of the Elves 
 and the music of the forest at night that was heard 
 
 [9] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 in the Prelude. Under these the Care theme is 
 heard at intervals, with greater power at each 
 repetition. As the elf-king leaves the glade the 
 Care motive reaches its full development, and 
 the black knight appears on the lower hillside 
 dragging the prince after him by the wrist. 'The 
 black knight is clad in chain mail, a hood of 
 which covers his head. Over his armor he wears a 
 black surcoat with dagged edges that comes to his 
 knees. On the breast of this is the device of a skull 
 in yellowish white. His face is of a grey pallor 
 and he wears a black beard. The prince is habited 
 in a white costume befitting his rank, though simple 
 rather than rich. The black knight strides 
 down to the middle of the glade and flings the 
 prince violently to the ground. The music ceases. 
 The prince buries his face in his hands and weeps.] 
 
 THE BLACK KNIGHT \brutally\ 
 
 There wash the earth with flood of desperate tears ! 
 
 Weep, fool! At last thy journey is at end — 
 
 Thy journey and thy peace. Thro' painful leagues 
 
 Of serried trees that mocked with dismal moans 
 
 Thy futile cries, we now at last are come 
 
 Unto the very bowels of the wood. 
 
 These halls of blackness are the tomb of hope; 
 
 In this my dark abode thou shalt remain 
 
 And give me service till thy sickened soul 
 
 Is loosened by the clement sword of Death. 
 
 My shadow covers thee as with a pall ; 
 
 Let flow thy wild, hot tears, for nevermore 
 
 Shalt thou be plucked from out the shroud of Care. 
 
 Beneath that cruel sheet there is no rest; 
 
 [10] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 Who sleeps therein must tenant dreams of pain, 
 
 Of anguish, and of fear. As stone on stone 
 
 Strikes sparks of sudden fire that quickly die, 
 
 So in thy cracking brain shall visions flash 
 
 Of bygone joys and agonies to be. 
 
 Yea, Memory turned monster shall unroll 
 
 Before thine eager eyes delighting scenes 
 
 Of feasts and pageants, gardens, warriors, slaves, 
 
 Soft maidens, music, love, and deep-hued wines. 
 
 THE PRINCE 
 
 No more, in pity ! Ah, no more ! no more ! 
 See how these tears beseech thee ! Let them melt 
 Thine iron heart; or, failing, word thy wish — 
 The king my father shall requite thee ; yea, 
 E'en to his realm ! Break thy design, and gold, 
 Like rain, shall pour upon thee. Thou shalt wade, 
 Thigh-deep, a golden river margined fair 
 By pebbled banks strewn all with jewels rare. 
 Have pity! 
 
 THE BLACK KNIGHT 
 
 Peace ! Hope not, thou whining dog, 
 That weeping shall unproof my master will, 
 Nor deem I snatched thee from thy father's court 
 To let thee free for pity ! Nay, thou swine ! 
 Should every tear that drips from thy mad eyes 
 Become a splendid jewel at my feet, 
 Thou wouldst not lessen by a single pang 
 The anguish I ordain to feed my hate. 
 The king thy father, reft of his poor whelp, 
 Shall yield me tribute, not in riches vast, 
 But days and nights of sorrow till he dies. 
 E'en now he sits mid palace-splendors, dumb 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 With grief. Thy mother, unconsoled, distraught. 
 In anguish wrings the hands that fondled thee; 
 Despair with cruel fingers tears her heart, 
 While Madness like a vulture hovers near 
 And mocks her prey. . . . 
 
 THE PRINCE 
 
 Ah, fiend! vile fiend! of Hell's dark brood most vile! 
 Mine eyes forget their tears of anguish, yet 
 They weep for shame that thy befouling sight 
 Hath seen them weep. I do defy thee, fiend! 
 
 THE BLACK KNIGHT \laUghing\ 
 
 Thy rashness doth beguile me. . . . Like a flame 
 
 It burns from thy quick heart — from that quick heart 
 
 That I shall slowly crush as if it were 
 
 A nestling shivering helpless in my hand. 
 
 Thy woe shall pleasure me for many days; 
 
 Here shall I lesson thee to covet death; 
 
 To pant and cry for death's sweet mercy — yea, 
 
 And I shall laugh till Hell's black walls resound! 
 
 [He laughs, .] 
 
 Come, Madolor! What ho! Ho, Madolor! 
 
 [madolor, a hideous, misshapen dwarf, enters. He 
 is habited shabbily in greenish black. His short 
 tunic has a hood that hangs down his back and he 
 wears a wide belt of black leather. His hair is 
 short and unkempt. He carries a human thigh-bone 
 in his hand. A mysterious and ghastly light that 
 seems to emanate from his person adds to his terri- 
 fying aspetl. A red glint flashes from his eyes.~\ 
 
 MADOLOR 
 
 Master, I am here. 
 
 [12] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 THE BLACK KNIGHT 
 
 Take thou this stripling! 
 A royal prize! He is the king's own son. 
 
 MADOLOR 
 
 Be thou the king's own son or bastard from the belly 
 of thy dam, thou shalt be chambered as thou never wast 
 before. Hard by, there is a cavern; on its miry floor 
 crawl vipers, toads, and filthy vermin. There, in slime 
 and ordure, thou shalt lie and spew thy heart. 
 
 THE BLACK KNIGHT 
 
 Thy purpose brims thy wish, good Madolor, 
 
 But hither hale my captives — they that rode 
 
 In proudest panoply beside the king. 
 
 \fCo the PRINCE.] 
 
 Thou touchest at thy doom and now shalt see 
 
 How I do break men's souls. Go, Madolor! 
 
 MADOLOR 
 
 I need no goading for this swineherd's work; it suits 
 my aspirations as maggots suit a bloated carcass festering 
 in the sun. 
 
 [madolor goes out. Darkness falls as from a cloud 
 passing across the moon. 'The black knight 
 stands in the middle of the glade , illumined by a 
 dim and ghastly light. ~\ 
 
 THE BLACK KNIGHT 
 
 Now when the midnight 
 With horror and blackness 
 Spreadeth its wings 
 Like some foul bird of prey, 
 
 [*3] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 Hear me, O Sathanas, 
 Hear me, thou mighty one, 
 Father of Sin 
 And begetter of Evil ! 
 Hear me and judge me, 
 
 monarch and master! 
 
 Thou, round whose iron throne 
 
 Raven forever 
 
 The flame and the roar 
 
 Of thy furnaces dread, 
 
 Mingled with cries 
 
 Of thy gibbering demons, 
 
 Pierced by the moans 
 
 And the shrieks of the damned; 
 
 Thou who tormentest 
 
 The spirits of dead men, 
 
 Hear me and see 
 
 How I strive in thy service — 
 
 Strive to embitter 
 
 The world with disaster; 
 
 Strive to load life 
 
 With the terrors of Hell] 
 
 Into my hands 
 
 Thou hast given the power 
 
 To smite all mankind 
 
 With the sharp scourge of Care; 
 
 Well have I labored, 
 
 And now in the passion 
 
 Of hatred's fulfilment 
 
 1 glorify thee! 
 
 [14] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 Sathanas! . . . Sathanas! . . . 
 
 Answer thy servitor! 
 
 Sathanas! Answer me! 
 
 Father and lord ! 
 \jThe earth opens on the lower hillside^ disclosing the 
 red and luminous interior of a cavern. Flames 
 are seen lea-ping within; thunder roars; lightning 
 flashes through the forest. In the mouth of the 
 cave stands sathanas, completely habited in black 
 and wrapped in a black cloak.~\ 
 
 SATHANAS 
 
 Thou serv'st me well, O son of mine, most well. 
 
 I am content with thee. . . . 
 
 But falter not nor stay thy cruelties ! 
 
 Let sink thy venom deeper in the breasts 
 
 Of men, and send them shuddering to their doom ! 
 
 Cease not to sow corruption in the world; 
 
 So reap I fuller harvest for my fires ! 
 
 With powers darker, more malign and fell 
 
 Thee I engird that thou may'st doubly serve 
 
 Thy lust and mine. . . . But cheat not Death too long! 
 
 Corrode with care the heart of innocence! 
 
 Defile the springs of happiness, and pollute 
 
 With lechery the virgin founts of love ! 
 
 And yet, remember that 'tis I!. ..I!. ..I!... 
 
 Whom thou dost serve — I, Sathanas, thy god! 
 
 Hold not my victims to indulge thy hate! 
 
 Send to my house forthwith yon cringing thing 
 
 To feed the altar flames that leap and hiss 
 
 Upon the ruddy battlements of Hell ! 
 
 [sathanas disappears amid flames accompanied by 
 
 thunder and lightnings and the cavern closes in 
 
 darkness.~\ 
 
 [15] 
 
"The Green Knight 
 
 the prince [kneeling and crossing himself '] 
 
 O thou Almighty, everlasting God, 
 Defend thy servant in his peril and need! 
 [Praying with repressed fervor] 
 
 Illumina, quaesumus, Domine Deus, tenebras nostras; 
 et totius hujus noclis insidias tu a nobis repelle propitius. 
 Per Dominum nostrum Jesum Christum Filium tuum, 
 qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitate Spiritus Sancti Deus, 
 per omnia saecula saeculorum. Amen. 
 
 [m ado lor runs in and, approaching the black 
 knight, speaks with savage glee.] 
 
 MADOLOR 
 
 Hither comes the mongrel pack, as mangy dogs as ever 
 bitch gave birth to. 
 
 [As madolor speaks the first of the captives enters. 
 
 Others singly or in twos and threes straggle in 
 
 slowly, walking with bowed heads. 'They are 
 
 garbed in long, shabby coats of sombre hues. As 
 
 the captives come in, a lugubrious strain of music 
 
 is heard. It gradually increases in volume as 
 
 they fill the scene. The prince looks furtively at 
 
 the faces of one after another, while madolor 
 
 goes about among them uttering threats and abuse.] 
 
 Come! ye move as slow as any glutted beast altho' your 
 
 guts are withered from disuse. Move! Move! or I shall 
 
 smite thee with this treeless root I digged from out a 
 
 grave ! 
 
 [The prince recognizes some of the captives and 
 speaks to them. They look at him blankly and 
 pass on.] 
 
 THE PRINCE 
 
 Agenor, is it thou ? 
 
 [16] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 He knows me not. 
 But stares with empty eyes that would seem dead 
 Did they not move and gaze. 
 
 Ah, Lucan, speak ! 
 Andred! Meliot! 
 
 No ! Ah, now I feel 
 The deadliest stings of Care ! 
 
 THE BLACK KNIGHT 
 
 What thinkest thou 
 Of vassalage in my domain? Behold 
 How pride and strength are changed to misery! 
 
 [archolon, an old man with a white beard^ is the 
 last of the captives to enter; he wears the shabby 
 garb of a priest. The prince approaches him.~] 
 
 THE PRINCE 
 
 Good Archolon, 'tis thou! Yes, yes, 'tis thou! 
 Thine eyes with memory kindle! Heaven be praised! 
 
 \_They embrace^ 
 
 ARCHOLON 
 
 Unhappy boy ! . . . O God, hast thou forgot 
 This tender child all innocent of sin? . . . 
 Alas that I should see thee in this place ! 
 Thou makest bright the moment, and my heart 
 Is warmed to feel thine fluttering in thy breast. 
 
 \The black knight approaches and seizing the 
 prince drags him away from archolon.] 
 
 THE BLACK KNIGHT 
 
 So, thou hast found a friend? 'Tis well. My hate 
 Shall feast twofold, for ye shall suffer more 
 In seeing anguish rend the other's soul. 
 Thou callest on thy god ? What is thy god 
 
 [17] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 Who lets thee suffer? Bah! a man-made god 
 Ye worship with your chants and mummery ! 
 But I am neither man nor made of man, 
 For I am Care that tortureth all mankind. 
 I own no king, and bow but to one god — 
 Great Sathanas, the Ruler of the World ! 
 
 \To MADOLOR.] 
 
 Drive to their dens these swine, but leave this cub 
 
 To contemplate the moon that shines afar 
 
 On happier scenes he never more shall know. 
 
 [To the prince.] 
 
 I leave thee in these silent halls of gloom, 
 
 Remember, and be thoughtful of thy doom. 
 
 [The BLACK KNIGHT goes OUt. MADOLOR THUS 
 
 among the captives and begins driving them from 
 the glade. ~\ 
 
 MADOLOR 
 
 Begone! Dost love my buffets as I love to give? If 
 thou wouldst stay thou shalt, but I shall slay thee first, 
 and thou shalt rot here on the ground and so bestink the 
 place that all the winds shall carry bidding to the red-eyed 
 crows to gorge upon thy entrails. Be off, I say, be off! 
 [To archolon.] Be off, thou grey old louse! Thou 
 starvling dung-fly! Must this sweet cudgel teach thee 
 once again to heed my words ? I '11 beat thee till thou 
 canst not say thy prayers. 
 
 [madolor seizes archolon and drives him from the 
 glade with blows. He then addresses the prince.] 
 
 Now, whelpling, think on what thou here hast seen, 
 and things more dire that thou yet shalt see. [Ironically] 
 Thou hast a valiant spirit — aye, thou art brave ! Thou 
 fearest not to be alone. Thou fearest not afrits and 
 demons of the haunted wood, nor hideous beasts with 
 
 [18] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 gnashing fangs, that prowl in yonder shadows ! Thou 
 dost not fear, for thou art brave. \_M. align ant ly\ I leave 
 thee to thy fancies ; they can take thee hence on journeys 
 of desire, but naught can take thy body from this spot. 
 Here thou shalt writhe beneath the strangling claws of 
 Pain, to taste at last the bitter kiss of Death! 
 
 [madolor leaves the glade, turning as he does so 
 with a vicious gesture. The prince, Ringing him- 
 self on the ground, buries his face in his hands 
 and weeps silently. A harp plays a series of ar- 
 peggios that merges into a melody which expresses 
 musically the dejetlion of the prince. Meanwhile 
 the prince remains alone and continues to weep. 
 After the music has been heard for some time the 
 elfin lights begin to flit about in the shrubbery, 
 and the elf-king enters followed by the elves and 
 goblins. He stands by the prince and looks at 
 him compassionately. The music of the Dance of 
 the Elves recommences and the fairy folk dance 
 again. After a little, the prince raises his head 
 and gazes with bewilderment at the dancing 
 sprites. He does not however see the elf-king 
 who presently touches him on the shoulder and at 
 the same time makes a sign at which the elves 
 cease dancing and run off among the trees. ~\ 
 
 the elf-king 
 
 Peace, weary heart, be not afraid, 
 Tho* Care and Pain deny thee rest; 
 Fear not, but know thy life is blest, 
 And face thy trial undismayed. 
 Let merry elves that danced and played 
 Within this dark and cheerless glade 
 
 [19] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 Bring hope and courage to thy breast. 
 
 Thy life a fairy charm attends — 
 
 All evil things its power defies — 
 
 For as a child thou call'dst us friends 
 
 Tho' sightless to thy watchful eyes. . . . 
 
 \fThe sound of approaching steps is here suggested 
 musically, and is followed by a strain of spiritual 
 character accompanying the following lines which 
 the elf-king speaks very slowly and mystically^ 
 
 But hark! the wind no longer sighs; 
 
 Across the solemn night I hear 
 
 A sound that to thy mortal ear 
 
 May whisper of a step that wends 
 
 Thro* forest ways. Near and more near 
 
 It comes, while from Night's dusky hood 
 
 The moon now sheds her tender beams. 
 
 What mystery is nigh? It seems 
 
 As if from out the gate of dreams 
 
 Some spirit wanders thro' the wood. 
 
 Come . . . follow me and falter not — 
 
 The elves, thy friends, now guard this spot — 
 
 In yonder coppice let us hide 
 
 And see what fortune may betide. 
 
 \Upon the elf-king's allusion to the moon, moonlight 
 slowly suffuses the hillside as well as the glade. 
 At the bidding of the elf-king, the prince rises 
 and follows him, together they steal into the 
 shrubbery at one side of the glade, which is thus 
 left empty. 'The mystical characler of the music 
 merges at last into an heroic phrase, and the 
 mounted figure of the green knight moves along 
 the highest path on the hillside. His white horse 
 is covered with a green housing ornamented with 
 
 [20] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 gold and with redwood trees embroidered upon it. 
 He wears full armor and over it a green para- 
 ment bearing on the breast the device of a redwood 
 tree. His shield is of the same color and design 
 as is the pennant that flies from the point of his 
 lance. 'Three white plumes surmount his helmet, 
 the vizor of which is closed. His horse is led by 
 an elf who carries a small torch. The green 
 knight slowly descends the winding path on the 
 hillside. The music continues. When he reaches 
 the glade he approaches the place where the brazen 
 shield hangs. He strikes it a blow with his lance. 
 It gives out a loud, clangorous sound that echoes 
 through the forest. The music ceases. The rever- 
 berations have scarcely died away when the black 
 knight rides in, mounted on a black charger cov- 
 ered with a black housing bearing the device of a 
 skull. He carries a shield with the same device 
 and wears a helmet surmounted by a black plume. ~\ 
 
 THE BLACK KNIGHT 
 
 Defiant thunders thine audacious hand 
 Hath loosened from yon shield, and now, rash knight, 
 Behold me, quick upon thy summons, here 
 To smite thee down and render thee to death. 
 Who art thou that entrudest on this ground 
 Where no man setteth foot but as my slave? 
 Thy blazon doth proclaim thee of a realm 
 Unknown; thy mien betokens insolence 
 That I shall turn to homage of my might 
 Before I pour thy blood upon the earth. 
 
 [The green knight remains motionless and im- 
 passive.] 
 
 [21] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 Wilt thou not speak a word ? . . . I tell thee, dog, 
 Tho* thou be dumb as seems, thy wretched tongue 
 Shall utter cries to fright the very beasts 
 That will engorge themselves upon thy corpse. 
 Near by there is a glen where thou shalt lie — 
 There follow me since thou hast mind to die ! 
 
 [The green knight makes a gesture of assent and, 
 the black knight preceding, they ride out of the 
 glade, archolon and the captives, some of whom 
 carry torches, now enter from one side, and the 
 prince from the other. ~\ 
 
 THE PRINCE 
 
 In yonder glen didst thou not see the knight 
 Who rides to battle with our foe ? Give thanks 
 To God, for we are saved at last ! 
 
 ARCHOLON 
 
 Nay, boy, 
 The golden lamp of hope still burns for thee; 
 Alas, we know how many a doughty knight 
 Hath bowed before dread Care's resistless shock. 
 Our fate is in the hand of God on high; 
 We can but trust in Him, and so beseech 
 His mercy. Now in prayer let us kneel! 
 
 [The prince and the captives kneel. The prayer is 
 expressed entirely by music. It is composed in the 
 form of a chorale and is divided into strophes. 
 After each strophe, music expressive of the onrush 
 and shock of conflicl and combined with the clash 
 of arms is heard. In these intervals archolon 
 who remains standing speaks without accompani- 
 ment the following lines. ~\ 
 [First strophe.) 
 
 [22] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 Almighty God, we have suffered in thy sight! Grant us 
 grace ! . . . 
 (Second strophe.) 
 Eternal Father of us all look down upon our woe! De- 
 liver us, O God ! . . . 
 (Third strophe.) 
 Hear us, O Lord, and have mercy upon us! Grant us 
 grace! . . . Deliver us, O God ! . . . 
 
 [archolon ascends the lower hillside whence he can 
 view the conflitl. The fourth strophe is played and 
 is followed by a clash of arms accompanied by the 
 Conflitl Music] 
 The contest waits o'er long and augurs well. 
 As some black billow of a cloud-hung sea 
 Is dashed upon a lofty verdured rock, 
 The foul one hurls his bulk upon his foe. 
 
 \_A clash of arms is heard accompanied by the Con- 
 flitl Music^\ 
 \With animation] 
 
 What see my eyes! He falls! O God in Heaven, 
 Now lend thy grace to him who fights for Thee ! 
 
 [yf trumpet gives the first phrase of the Green 
 Knight motived] 
 [Exultingly to the others] 
 Let joy, a stranger to your grieved hearts, 
 Revive your strength. Now with new zeal exalt 
 The everlasting God who heard your prayer ! 
 
 [The captives rise with a show of excitement, and 
 archolon comes down among them. The green 
 knight now rides in, carrying in his right hand 
 the head of the black knight suspended by the 
 hair. In the same hand he grasps his drawn 
 sword. He lets the head fall into the hands of 
 
 [23] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 some of the liberated captives, who remove it. 
 
 archolon addresses him.~\ 
 Thou hast destroyed the enemy of man. 
 Thou hast set free his vassals. Once again 
 We look, upon the heavens bending o'er 
 These aged trees that were our prison walls, 
 And all their beauty enters in our souls. 
 No more their mightiness a menace seems; 
 No more we languish helpless in despair, 
 For thou hast lifted from our limbs the chains 
 Of woe that burdened us, and from our hearts 
 The galling weight of care. 
 
 Wilt thou not speak ? 
 Wilt thou not name thyself? Whence comest thou ? 
 Thy silence covers not thy nobleness, 
 But fills my vision with a holy awe; 
 Thou seemest as a being not of earth 
 But, Heaven-sent, an instrument of God. 
 
 [yf distant horn is heard from the diretlion of the 
 
 hi I /.J 
 
 THE PRINCE 
 
 Hark! A horn rings from the night! 
 
 \fThe horn is heard again.~\ 
 Once more 
 Its trembling note rides on the shaken air. . . . 
 Now does its sweet, familiar cadence draw 
 My soul ! \_The horn is heard again.~\ 
 
 Yes, yes, I know that valiant blast ! 
 It is — it is the company of the king! 
 He comes! The king my father comes! Make haste! 
 The way is dark. . . . They wander in the wood. . . . 
 With torches meet their coming and make bright 
 The pathway's tracing stolen by the night! 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 \_While the prince is speaking, the green knight 
 turns and rides slowly to a station on the lower 
 hillside. At the prince's biddings some of the 
 liberated captives carrying torches leave the glade. 
 The prince turns to archolon.] 
 Mark, Archolon, the silent stranger makes 
 As tho' he would depart. . . . But no ! . . . He stands ! . . . 
 \fThe green knight, with an august gesture, raises 
 his vizor. A miraculous light floods his counte- 
 nance^ 
 What wonder starts my sight! Meseems his face 
 Shines as if touched with strange celestial light, 
 And on my brow I feel, like a caress, 
 The wafture of mysterious, unseen wings. 
 
 THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 Listen to my words, O happy mortals, 
 
 Ye who late within this mighty forest 
 
 Languished in the heavy chains of terror. 
 
 Listen, and exalt in adoration 
 
 Him who from the radiant throne of Heaven 
 
 Sent me to deliver you from bondage. 
 
 Nameless must I be, but know that yonder, 
 
 In the spacious dwelling of the angels, 
 
 In the peaceful dwelling of the angels, 
 
 We the chosen, cleansed of sin and shriven, 
 
 Watch and guard the blood of Christ our Saviour, 
 
 Chalked in the Holy Grail's perfection. 
 
 Thence have I, with righteous arms invested, 
 
 Sought this dark abode of evil spirits, 
 
 Sought and slain the demon Care, avenging 
 
 Immemorial wrong and malefaction. 
 
 Care is dead and by my sword hath perished 
 
 [25] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 Vile and cruel Pain, his loathly creature. 
 
 Once again ye walk the earth unfettered. 
 
 Be ye humble therefore and forget not, 
 
 Tho' Adversity's bleak spear should wound you, 
 
 God's all-seeing love and grace eternal 
 
 Shall deliver you and clothe your spirits 
 
 With a robe of glory everlasting. 
 
 \_A horn call is heard near at hand from the direc- 
 tion of the MIL It is followed by another and an- 
 other and finally by a fanfare that merges into a 
 march. The persons in the glade, with the excep- 
 tion of the green knight, look with expeclancy 
 toward the hill, and on the highest path a torch- 
 bearer appears leading a horse on which sits the 
 king, clad in mail. His sure oat is quartered in 
 red and gold, as is his horse 's housing, and both 
 bear the device of an owl. His shield and the 
 pennant that flies from the point of his lance are 
 quartered in the same colors and bear the same 
 device. On his helmet is a golden crown sur- 
 mounted by a red plume. He is followed by four 
 mounted knights wearing armor and carrying lances 
 and shields. The horses of the knights are led by 
 torch-bearers. The first knight wears a para- 
 ment of dark blue, and his horse's housing is of the 
 same color. On parament, housing, shield, and 
 pennant he bears the device of a scroll of stylus. 
 The second knight's color is yellow and his 
 device is a pipe and syrinx. The third knight 
 wears dark red and bears the device of a brush 
 and ancient palette. The fourth knight wears 
 bright blue and his device is a sculptor s chisel 
 and maul. The King s March continues as the com- 
 
 [26] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 party descends the winding path on the hillside. 
 As the king approaches the level of the glade, the 
 prince ascends to meet him, and some of the liber- 
 ated captives move toward the advancing knights. 
 The prince greets his father, and walks at his 
 stirrup as he enters the glade. The king and the 
 four knights range themselves on the left of the 
 scene. The music ceases.~\ 
 
 THE KING 
 
 My heart is like a golden cup of roses. 
 
 Where winged Joy drinks deep the sweet excess ! 
 
 \He leans down and kisses the prince.] 
 
 ARCHOLON 
 
 Give praise unto the Lord, for now indeed 
 Do blessings fall like flowers from his hand! 
 Behold, O king, thy vassals, yet not one 
 More joyed to bow before thy will than I ! 
 
 THE KING 
 
 'Tis Archolon, and these my goodly knights! 
 Now smiling Fortune sets a brighter crown 
 Upon the brow of Happiness. . . . But thou 
 My son, of all the jewels in that crown, 
 Art brightest to mine eyes and to my heart 
 Most dear. Ah, would that I who knew not hope 
 Might wing my grateful words to God on high 
 Who gave thee to me from thy mother's womb, 
 And gives thee once again from this dark tomb ! 
 
 THE PRINCE 
 
 We have been spared by Death, yet in this spot 
 His grim and awful presence made us free, 
 
 [27] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 For here, our captor, Care, a demon foul, 
 Was slain by yonder gracious knight; to him 
 We owe our lives and, owing life, owe all. 
 
 THE KING 
 
 Sir knight, thy deed I '11 not affront with praise, 
 
 But show thee to what honor in my heart 
 
 Thy prowess and thy sword have brought thee. . . . 
 
 Come thou unto my court and I each day 
 
 Shall give thee what each day thou namest; or 
 
 Desire at once my sceptre and my crown 
 
 And they are thine. 
 
 THE GREEN KNIGHT 
 
 Not for guerdon has my sword been wielded; 
 To thy court I may not ride in triumph, 
 For to vasty realms beyond the starlight 
 Whence I came must I be straight returning. 
 Ere I go, my task fulfilled, I bid thee 
 Listen to the solemn mandate given 
 Not by me but by our Heavenly Master: 
 Care no longer, like a jackal prowling, 
 Fills the forest with portentous terrors. 
 Thou shalt drive the memory of his presence 
 From this grove forever and shalt suffer 
 Naught but gladness to abide within it — 
 Gladness and the peace begot of Beauty. 
 And as time the cirque of years rolls onward, 
 Hither shall thy children come rejoicing. 
 Here shall flowers bloom and cast their incense 
 On the lyric breezes sweet with bird-song; 
 Here shall gracile deer and hasty squirrel 
 Wander unmolested thro* the greenwood; 
 Bending ferns shall catch the golden sunlight 
 
 [28] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 That with straight and shimmering lance impierces 
 
 All the pillared chambers of the forest. 
 
 And when night with darkness drapes the hours, 
 
 Mirth shall ripple thro* these leafy arches. 
 
 Thus thy children and thy children's children 
 
 Shall, in token of thy faith and purpose, 
 
 Bring to pass redemption of the woodland. 
 
 Yonder lies the corpse of Care. Go thither. 
 
 Rear a lofty pyre of mighty branches, 
 
 And upon the flame's devouring fury 
 
 Cast the husk that held the sap of evil ! 
 
 \The King s March — diminished in length and 
 volume — is again played. 'The company , led by the 
 king, gradually withdraws and leaves the glade 
 empty. The prince is about to follow the others 
 when the green knight addresses him. The 
 prince ascends to where the green knight 
 stands. The music ceases."] 
 
 Come thou hither and attend my bidding ! 
 
 \He dismounts^] 
 
 This my sword I give thee — use it nobly; 
 
 Care it slew, and in the years that wait thee 
 
 Wield thou it with honor. Take this charger, 
 
 Comrade of my questing, and remember 
 
 Him who rode against thy dread tormentor. . . . 
 
 Leave me now, and with thy kingly father 
 
 Scatter on the wind Care's loathsome ashes. 
 
 Fare thee well, and thus I gravely charge thee : 
 
 Whilst thou livest, glorify thy Master! 
 
 Glorify thy God and praise His bounty ! 
 
 Glorify the Lord whose greatest glory 
 
 Calls on men to serve the cause of Beauty ! 
 
 [29] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 \jThe prince takes the green knight's sword and 
 horse and slowly leaves the glade. As he does so, 
 the area of moonlight is gradually reduced — as if 
 clouds were passing across the face of the moon — 
 until only the lower hillside where the green 
 knight stands is illumined. The green knight 
 remains silent for a short time, as if in meditation. 
 He then speaks with the greatest solemnity^ 
 
 God shall bless them who serve the cause of Beauty ; 
 
 God shall bless them, for God himself is Beauty — 
 
 Ancient spirit of all that ye most cherish, 
 
 Who the visible forms of Nature worship 
 
 And the mysteries of her mighty bosom. 
 
 Beauty healeth the hearts of those who seek her; 
 
 Yet thro* Beauty men suffer, yea, and perish, 
 
 Bearing bravely the burthen of her service. 
 
 Beauty crowneth the quiet brows of Patience — 
 
 Patience following dreams that lure the dreamer 
 
 Into solitudes none may know but dreamers. 
 
 Beauty giveth to love its peace and rapture ; 
 
 Gold can purchase nor love, nor peace, nor rapture ; 
 
 Yet shall Beauty these gifts bestow upon you. 
 
 Beauty whispereth secret words to poets — 
 
 Words that open the inner gates of vision, 
 
 Thro' which wander the errant feet of Fancy. 
 
 \fThe music begins softly with an announcement of the 
 Beauty theme.~\ 
 
 Beauty soareth upon the wings of music, 
 
 Calling harmonies from the lute and viol. 
 
 Kingship passeth; its splendors fade as flowers; 
 
 Temples crumble to dust and cities vanish; 
 
 Yea ! these lofty and ancient trees shall follow 
 
 Fate's implacable law, but Beauty riseth, 
 
 [30] 
 
The Green Knight 
 
 Bright and glorious, sweet and everlasting. 
 
 Here in forests beneath the weightless curtain, 
 
 Woven cunningly by the silent moonbeams, 
 
 Beauty abideth and charmeth the eyes of mortals. 
 
 Here shall ye who behold her yield her homage! 
 
 Here she reigneth alone, supreme, and holy! 
 
 Here her rites shall be held forever sacred! 
 
 Worship God as ye will, but this remember, 
 
 God is Beauty, and Beauty filleth Heaven. 
 
 Now shall Heaven attest the strength of Beauty! 
 
 \The music ceases abruptly, and the green knight, 
 raising his hands on high, cries an invocation^ 
 Hear me, Jesu, son of God, whose voice is mercy and 
 
 whose heart is love ! Our Lady, hear ! Angels of Heaven, 
 
 throw wide the gates of gold and let the light of Paradise 
 
 descend ! 
 
 \_Above the hillside, the gates of Paradise open in a 
 flood of golden light that illumines the heavens, 
 'The music is resumed at the same moment, and 
 from the gleaming gates an angel sounds a trumpet 
 blast — the Beauty theme. The celestial light con- 
 tinues while the green knight slowly ascends the 
 hill, pausing many times with gestures of exalted 
 adoration. His ascent is accompanied by music into 
 which enter the Beauty theme, the Green Knight 
 theme, and the music of the forest at night. When 
 he approaches the radiant gates, a culminating ex- 
 pression of the Beauty theme is heard; the angel 
 takes him by the hand and together they enter Para- 
 dise. The green knight raises his hands in a final 
 gesture of exaltation ; the gates close; the music 
 ends triumphantly ; and all is dark and silent .] 
 the end. 
 
 [31] 
 

 
 &&Utdo/bj~ 
 
 COSTUMES 
 
 Plate I 
 
COSTUMES 
 
 Plate II 
 
(£\foo/zjoeam j : 
 
 $ 
 
 (\ ■ / x 
 
 first &C7iic7J?t 
 
 Qzptivef 
 
 COSTUMES 
 
 Plate III 
 
SYNOPSIS OF THE MUSIC 
 
 The Prelude is built in the main upon themes related 
 to the action, which will be illustrated in their proper 
 places. It begins with a series of arpeggios intended to 
 express the music of the cithara that is played by the 
 speaker of the prologue (Neotios). Thus introduced, and 
 the prologist having left the scene, the Prelude continues 
 upon a theme indicative of the forest at night. This is 
 scored at first for divided violins alone. 
 
 The theme is developed for a few measures by imita- 
 tions on one instrument after another until all cease on a 
 
 [37] 
 
SynGpsis of the Music 
 
 forte. A florid passage assigned to a single 'cello intro- 
 duces the Green Knight theme which is played at first in 
 a cantabile by the 'cellos and then by the other strings. 
 
 -Moderato, cantabile 
 
 A portion of the Dance of the Elves is next introduced. 
 This is built upon the following theme : 
 
 Allegro leggiero. 
 
 Into this the Black Knight or Care theme enters. 
 
 Sostenuto pesante. 
 
 V. 
 
 m 
 
 etc 
 
 
 s r t 
 
 When the Dance of the Elves occurs in the action, the 
 Care theme enters under the dance melody and is re- 
 peated at intervals preparatory to the entrance of the 
 Black Knight. 
 
 [38] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
 The remainder of the Prelude consists of a foreshadow- 
 ing of the Conflict Music which will be illustrated where it 
 occurs in the action, followed by the Green Knight theme 
 in triumphant form, indicative of the Green Knight's 
 victory over Care, and finally by a repetition of the quiet 
 measures expressive of the forest at night with which the 
 Prelude began. 
 
 The Prelude is intended to intensify the atmosphere 
 of mystery suggested by the prologue in which the audi- 
 tors are bidden by Neotios to dream. It is therefore a 
 prelude to a dream and is in full as follows : 
 
 PRELUDE 
 
 [Introductory arpeggios accompanying lastjines ofProlagueJ\ 
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 /7» Violins 
 
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 [39] 
 
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Synopsis of the Music 
 
 Moderato cantabite. 
 
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 [40] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
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 [41] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
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 al .-. „,-.-.^-. . Allegro molto 
 
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 [42] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
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 [43] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
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 tjiTt fin 
 
 5=F 
 
 PiS 
 
 fa* 
 
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 # 
 
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 ^p^^il tgcp 
 
 P 
 
 ^ 
 
 pka 
 
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 [44] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
 [45] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
 The Prelude proper ends when the Elf-King theme is 
 introduced and the Elf- King makes his appearance. 
 
 Allegretto 
 
 As the light of the rising moon illumines the scene the 
 Moon theme is heard. The Elf-King's address to the 
 moon is built upon this theme. 
 
 [46] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
 Illustration 1. 
 
 O Night, once more, once more I wel-come thee ! 
 Andante J -So 
 
 Ki „ k J-'H £U\ j i Xii4-^r4 
 
 7 f 
 
 At last Thy shadowy cloak is cast Up -on the for-est floor. What 
 
 ■Ak M , .J-- ggfel 
 
 ^-r^ : 
 
 r=3 [ f 
 
 ^ 
 
 rn^rf 
 
 ^5 
 
 i 
 
 ijk g"- jj h% ^3 
 
 s 
 
 
 P^ 
 
 f 
 
 n 
 
 <*<& 
 
 7^ 
 
 # i 
 
 4= h i- j „i i-M y y „h m rt j^ 
 
 mys-ter-ies out -pour Froni^QadJatidcham-bers va st , From ag-ed trees and hoar,Proud 
 
 he-ri-ters 1 of lore, Rich cof-fers of the past! 
 
 Now Na-ture in a swoon Of 
 
 bb o 
 
 [47] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
 love for-gets the noon, And tree-tops.tow-er-stemmed^Are bright -lydi-a-demmedB\ 
 
 S. 
 
 Toco pili nt oss o 
 
 m i- .1 „ fa ri i k j „ J r-4-4-4- $ 1 A 
 
 yon-der pal-lid moon; A silrverli-ly there. In ga rdens of thf gi n With 
 
 pale star-blos-soms gemmed 
 
 Mys- te-ri -ous and re-moteJKis drea-rymeas-ures float A- 
 Zreitto 
 
 far of f to the shore Of the land that's called— No More. 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
 The moonbeams enter during the latter part of the 
 Elf-King's speech. A few measures of transitional mate- 
 rial are introduced while the moonbeams rise from the 
 recumbent positions they assumed upon entering, and the 
 Dance of the Moonbeams begins. The first figure, built 
 upon the Moon theme changed to 3-4 rhy thm,is as follows: 
 
 i> ^TempodiValseLeafrr: l 
 
 y ' 1 
 
 M 
 
 igte 
 
 4 
 
 fct 
 
 ^^m 
 
 p 5 n r 
 
 * 
 
 Dip 
 
 p 
 
 rr 
 
 r 
 
 S^ I 
 
 j=s 
 
 ^ 
 
 gi 
 
 f 
 
 I 
 
 ■^f 
 
 =? 
 
 T 
 
 * 
 
 , 0Hhh^jfe i| 
 
 &s 
 
 
 I 
 
 *rc. 
 
 ^ 
 
 i 
 
 3 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 A second figure is introduced in this form : 
 
 Piu mas so. 8 
 
 The Elf-King speaks on the closing measures of the 
 dance and as he calls to the elves and goblins the fairy 
 folk come scampering down the hillside to the accompani- 
 ment of the following: 
 
 T49] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
 Allegero 8 •. 
 Ieggiero 
 
 * 0m m M 
 
 k=h 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 UiU Lf 
 
 6- 
 
 14^-fc^ 
 
 ^f 
 
 faE 
 
 s 
 
 ^^ 
 
 tat 
 
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 IS 
 
 PFff 
 
 ^ 
 
 BW 
 
 €fC 
 
 £ 
 
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 Imp 
 
 This changes to the Dance of the Elves that was illus- 
 trated in the Prelude, toward the end of which the Care 
 theme enters and is repeated until the Black Knight 
 appears. The Care theme is then given with the full 
 strength of the orchestra and the music ceases. 
 
 An episode of action ensues unaccompanied by music. 
 The Black Knight finally commands the dwarf Madolor 
 to bring in the captives. As these enter, garbed in "shabby 
 coats of sombre hues" and walking with bowed heads, 
 they present a melancholy spectacle. The music accom- 
 panying their entrance is lugubrious in character and 
 parallels in a gradual crescendo the effect upon the eye of 
 the gradual filling of the scene. This is written with a 
 double time signature (5-4 3-4) and begins as follows: 
 
 Lento lugubre. 
 
 A second figure is introduced. This is derived from 
 the Care theme and is the principle basis of the following 
 illustration : 
 
 [50] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
 Andante sostenuto. 
 
 The action now continues for a time without music. 
 Finally the Prince, racked by anguish and terror induced 
 by the malignity of the Black Knight and Madolor, is 
 left alone in the awful stillness of the forest. Throwing 
 himself on the ground he gives course to his tears, and 
 the orchestra begins an interlue expressive of his despair. 
 This is assigned chiefly to the harp assisted by muted 
 strings. Its principal theme is as follows: 
 
 Adagio O 
 passionate i 
 
 pas 
 k 
 
 |^ P *jh 
 
 ±ci 
 
 n-j^r-^ 
 
 JTt-j 
 
 m 
 
 W 
 
 r 
 
 i ns, ^ 
 
 s 
 
 n 
 
 W^ 
 
 etc. 
 
 m 
 
 w^ 
 
 w 
 
 A second figure is introduced in this form: 
 
 Andante sostenuto, cantabile 
 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
 While this is being played the Elf-King enters with the 
 elves and goblins and, the music merging into the Dance 
 of the Elves, the fairy folk dance about as before. The 
 Elf-King presently stops the dance and the music ceases. 
 
 The Elf-King now speaks to the Prince. During this 
 speech a succession of tympani beats suggestive of ap- 
 proaching steps is heard. The Elf-King, pausing, says : 
 
 But hark ! the wind no longer sighs; 
 Across the solemn night I hear 
 A sound that to thy mortal ear 
 May whisper of a step that wends 
 Thro' forest ways. 
 
 •7T ~K *3T TV" -Tr 
 
 What mystery is nigh? It seems 
 As if from out the gate of dreams 
 Some spirit wanders thro' the wood. 
 
 The spiritual suggestion of these lines is expressed mu- 
 sically by the Green Knight theme in the following form : 
 
 Adagto j 
 
 r y^j, 'f 
 
 i>] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
 This is continued until the Elf-King and the Prince 
 leave the scene whereupon the Green Knight theme is 
 sounded by the brasses and the Green Knight appears on 
 the upper hillside. As he rides down the winding path 
 the orchestra plays the music of the Green Knight in 
 extended form as heard in the latter part of the Prelude. 
 
 The Green Knight and the Black Knight join in com- 
 bat in a neighboring glen. The Prince and the captives 
 reenter. Archolon the priest calls upon them to pray. 
 They kneel and the prayer is expressed entirely by the 
 orchestra. It is composed in the form of a chorale. The 
 first strophe begins as follows: 
 
 . Largo ^_ 
 
 3 
 
 y\ rtj% 
 
 Wi* 
 
 P r 
 
 i^B 
 
 fff 
 
 .1 .4 i + 
 
 °f. 
 
 v\>\1i, i 1 
 
 i 
 
 4- it 
 
 Zsk 
 
 La 
 
 o 
 
 r f r p i- 
 
 ^¥tT 
 
 f= 
 
 ? ? v ? 
 
 At the end of the first strophe a clash of arms is heard 
 and the orchestra plays the Conflict Music utilizing the 
 Care theme. The following illustration arranged for piano 
 will suggest the character of the passage. 
 
 Poco allegro 
 
 i * o 
 
 [53] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
 After the second strophe of the prayer the Conflict 
 Music is made to carry the Green Knight theme. 
 
 Poco allegro 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 an 
 
 ^3 
 
 s 
 
 v 1 1 - j> j yn J J7°3 
 
 ^m^&ni 71 
 
 e accel. 
 
 .~.al... 
 
 dc 
 
 y=^ 1 v5 G 
 
 a 
 
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 ^/* tAiteffro 
 
 crerc. 
 
 ^ 
 
 HP ' ' >'•*' 
 
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 a 
 
 ta 
 
 Variations of this treatment occur until the prayer is 
 ended and the Green Knight rides in upon the announce- 
 ment of his theme by a trumpet. 
 
 The action continues without music until a horn call 
 from the hill announces the approach of the King who 
 presently appears with his followers on the upper hillside. 
 As they ride down the winding path the orchestra plays 
 the King's March. 
 
 [54] 
 
Tempo di Marcia 
 
 Synopsis of the Music 
 THE KING'S MARCH 
 
 j, *.w . 
 
 &=L 
 
 m 
 
 k "} * ra 
 
 , 1 ; -4 
 
 J3 
 
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 ^^f 
 
 jooeo. 
 
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 i-JS 
 
 ^tf3. 
 
 ^u.iT,i'^4.ili^PbpT.,lt,,l.i ^ 
 
 a [ a [A j 
 
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Synopsis of the Music 
 
 [56] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
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 ptli Lj'i 
 
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Synopsis of the Music 
 
 PPFf 
 
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 53 
 
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 [58] 
 
A. 
 
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 Synopsis of the Music 
 
 "'gn'Tlnn nn i/~ 
 
 4^4 
 
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 [59] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
 The march is again played in diminished form as the 
 King and the other characters finally leave the scene. 
 After this the Green Knight delivers his last speech — 
 an apostrophe to Beauty. This progresses for some time 
 unaccompanied, but when he utters the lines, 
 
 Beauty soareth upon the wings of music, 
 Calling harmonies from the lute and viol, 
 
 the orchestra, begins softly with an announcement of the 
 
 Beauty theme simplified from the full expression in which 
 
 it appears later. This simplified treatment of the theme 
 
 is as follows: 
 
 <?.. .... 
 
 
 £ 
 
 4 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 P 
 
 w« x u' m 
 
 i 
 
 ^Q 
 
 [ uy 
 
 f 
 
 With this the finale begins and proceeds with the de- 
 velopment of the Beauty theme imitated in stretto. 
 
 As a counterpoint to this the music of the forest at 
 night, transposed to the key of C-major, is employed. 
 
 [60] 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
 Andante. 
 
 This accompanies the latter part of the Green Knight's 
 speech which is spoken with constantly increasing exalta- 
 tion — paralleled by the music — until the concluding 
 line, 
 
 Now shall Heaven attest the strength of Beauty. 
 
 At this point the music stops abruptly and the Green 
 Knight calls upon the angels of Heaven to "throw wide 
 the gates of gold and let the light of Paradise descend!" 
 To borrow from Mr. Garnett's stage directions : "Above 
 the hillside, the gates of Paradise open in a flood of golden 
 light that illumines the heavens. The music is resumed 
 at the same moment, and from the gleaming gates an 
 angel sounds a trumpet blast — the Beauty theme. The 
 celestial light continues while the Green Knight slowly 
 ascends the hill, pausing many times with gestures of 
 exalted adoration. " His ascent is accompanied by the 
 Green Knight motive in extended form until he ap- 
 proaches the gates of Heaven. The final and full expres- 
 sion of the Beauty theme now enters. It is in part as 
 follows : 
 
 [6ij 
 
Synopsis of the Music 
 
 lestoso molto. . — r— \ — ] T" """■' -. i i '"] s ~ -J: -. 
 
 ■*<):n^ M t fn | irrf^ M|f n 
 
 <^fr-+ 
 
 wm 
 
 n 
 
 t 
 
 i^y 
 
 ^ 
 
 s 
 
 -** — g 
 
 p 
 
 f 
 
 
 "2~ 
 
 5- 
 
 
 This accompanies him until having stepped within the 
 gates of Paradise they close upon him and the music 
 ceases as darkness falls. -c r> c 
 
 [6*1 
 

 
 ■>**J£8 
 
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 PROF ll£ tf Me H/L/LS/OS 
 from a. Jitrrty I 
 lOHCAie.Hunrr 
 
 i so feet- -t 
 
P^TAHHTa VOHO aUiD HAlM3HOa 3HT 
 iH^m)i rT33-f O 3s\T fro doffsimdtaft 
 
PRAISE BE TO JOHN OF NEPOMUCK, BOHEMIA'S 
 PATRON SAINT, THAT ON THIS THE SECOND 
 DAY OF THE MONTH OF AUGUST, IN THE YEAR 
 OF OUR LORD MCMXI AND OF THE BOHEMIAN 
 CLUB XXXIX, IS HAPPILY ENDED THIS BOOK OF 
 THE GREEN KNIGHT, WHICH IS ISSUED FROM THE 
 HOUSE OF PAUL ELDER & COMPANY esf THROUGH 
 THE GENEROSITY OF CERTAIN GENTLEMEN OF 
 QUALITY AND PARTS, WHICH HAS BEEN EXQUI- 
 SITELY RENDERED INTO TYPE BY THE MASTER 
 PRINTER JOHN HENRY NASH, AND WHICH IS 
 NOW READY BY THE GRACE OF A MERCIFUL GOD 
 FOR THE PRESS OF TAYLOR, NASH tf TAYLOR 
 
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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