■NRLF I MPTM m THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING BY HARRIET FINLAY-JOHNSON EDITED BY ELLEN M. CYR AUTHOR OK THE CHILDREN'S READERS »«> . J . o ; GINN AND COMPANY BOSTON • NEW YORK • CHICAGO • LONDON COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY GINN AND COMPANY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED GINN AND COMPANY • PRO- PRIETORS • BOSTON • U.S.A. PREFACE I undertook with great pleasure the task of editing this book for the inspiration and guidance of the teachers in America. Every page is imbued with the spirit of joy and hfe, — natural, spontaneous life, — recognizing the rights of a child to his own point of view with his own limitations. Education is life, not just the preparation for life. Some one has said that education is "being at home in God's world," and another educator gives the following beatitude : " Blessed are they who do hunger and thirst after the knowledge of how to direct instead of suppress the spon- taneous activities of childhood, seeking to transmute what is evil into good, for they shall make happy and competent and well-behaved children." The best teachers are those who lead their pupils into activities which, based upon the fundamental instincts of child nature, are to test and examine everything and to attempt all feats. Miss Finlay- Johnson recognizes her pupils as little men and women who have a right to appropriate just that part of this world which belongs to childhood, and in her school the children live in a world of their own and look upon life through their own childish vision. They enact again the events of history, literature, and geography, 260895 vi THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING and fill even the arithmetic lessons with life and action. In the study of history the characters are released from their imprisonment between the covers of the books ; they don their regalia and, stepping out of the prosy pages, live their lives again and perform once more their deeds of courage and prowess. This dramatic work brings the children into closer relationship, awakening sympathy be- tween the pupils and teacher, and fosters class spirit. It also gives the forward children opportunities for leadership, and offers a natural outlet for spontaneity and enthusiasm. Ingenuity, individuality, and imagination are developed when the children make their own stage properties, as they were led to do by Miss Finlay-Johnson. A child enters school during the years of the play period. " Shades of the prison house begin to close upon the grow- ing boy," and it seems hardly fair to confine him in a schoolroom during this time. Activities at this age mean much more than objects to the child, and, in justice to his development, every means to educate him by play should be employed. If he finds himself repressed on every side, he becomes discouraged and loses interest in his lessons ; and the depression which is likely to follow retards his mental growth. His interest is most quickly aroused in results brought about by his own activities. Wise is the teacher who fosters the enthusiasm and elasticity of these early years, and helps the child to realize the forces that exist within him. This dramatic work should be kept simple. Miss Finlay- Johnson realizes this and also the danger of working for PREFACE Vll theatrical effects. She avoids this danger by engaging the whole class in most of the plays, and by letting the children suggest their own methods of acting. It is interesting to note the way in which Miss Finlay-Johnson introduces acting into the various branches of study. The dolls in the geography lessons impersonate the inhabitants of the various countries, and the children interest themselves in the clothing adapted to the various countries and climates. A prominent educator says, "there is more philosophy and poetry in a single doll than in a thousand books." I hope many of our American teachers will learn les- sons from the experiences of Miss Finlay-Johnson in her work in "the little school on the Sussex Downs, where children and teachers lived for a space in the world of romance and happiness." She preaches "the gospel of happiness in childhood for those who will be the world's workers and fighters to-morrow," and it is her conviction that " fleeting childhood's days should be filled with joy." Acknowledgment is made for permission to use illustra- tions from the dramatic work in the schools of New Haven, Connecticut, and Holyoke, Massachusetts. ELLEN M. CYR CONTENTS CHAPTl-K PAGE I. IXTRUDUCTIOX . 3 / II. The Teaching of History by Plays 18 III. The Adapted Play 44 IV. The Original Play 56 V. The Shakespearean Play 'j'] VI. A (iiRLs' Play 109 VII. Literature 118 ^y VIII. Geography 133 IX. Arithmetic and Composition ....... 169 X. Nature Study newly approached 178 XI. Manual Work 187 XII. After School A(iE 191 INDEX 197 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE THE ''tig" shed in COURSE OF CONSTRUCTION . . Frontispiece ''iVANHOE"— THE ARREST OF MALVOISIN 5 REDCROSS KNIGHTS IN ARMOR OF TEA PAPER .... I I THE CORONATION OF WILLIAM AND MARY . . . . • 23 THE KNIGHTING OF RALEIGH 29 THE COLLAPSE OF MRS. MICAWBER WHEN SHE SEES DAVID COPPERFIELD AFTER HER RETURN 45 Photograph taken at the Highland School, Holyoke, Mas- sachusetts COMBAT BETWEEN RODERICK DHU AND FITZ -JAMES . . 49 Photograph taken at the Highland School, Holyoke, Mas- sachusetts A PART OF THE '' CHRISTMAS CAROL " FESTIVAL . • • 53 LITTLE RED RIDING -HOOD 59 Photograph taken at New Haven, Connecticut THE SUN AND THE WIND (tHE WIND SHOW^S HIS POWER) 65 Photograph taken at New Hayen, Connecticut THE SUN AND THE WIND (tHE SUN SHOWS HIS POWER) 69 Photograph taken at New Haven, Connecticut THE FIRST COUNCIL OF HENRY V 79 SCHOOL GARDEN — THE FLOWER GARDENS 89 xi Xll THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING PAGE FAIRIES IN ''a midsummer NIGHT's DREAM " .... 97 ELLEN AND MALCOLM GRAEME Til Photograph taken at the Highland School, Holyoke, Mas- sachusetts MR. SCROOGE AND THE BENEVOLENT GENTLEMEN . . 12 1 Photograph taken at the Highland School, Holyoke, Mas- sachusetts THE doll's party 1 27 Photograph taken at New Haven, Connecticut geography GAMES " COAL AND IRON TOWNS " . . 141 NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS AT MEALTIME. IN THE P.ACK- (IROUND ENGLISH SETTLER PLOWING 1 49 NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS KILLING ANIMALS . . . . 1 55 A NATURE-STUDY GAME— " (,)UESTIONIN(i THE FLOWERS " 179 A FAIRY PLAY — NATURE STUDY IDEALIZED 183 mothers' dramatic FOLK SONGS 1 93 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION IN my endeavor to write a practical account of the way I taught my school children by the dramatic method, I think it will be useful to preface the more practical chapters with a few introductory words. I feel sure that all educationists worthy of the name will agree that at the present day, more than ever before, only the very best will be good enough for the education of our children. Yet I cannot help thinking also that, in our con- scientious search for that best, we (even the most thought- ful of us) may lose sight of the child in our hunt for the VIC t J 10 d. It was my endeavor to treat with children rather than with methods and theories which led me to throw more and more of the initial effort on to the children themselves. The school in which my experiments were carried out was an English village school of about eighty- five older pupils and forty-five primary children — the latter with my sister in charge. There, twelve years ago, I found myself in the position of head teacher ; and it was then 4:.»?!iE DJI'AMATIC-.METHOD OF TEACHING that I came to the conclusion that there was a great need of a radical change. So litde was there of initiative or originality on the part of the children themselves, that I felt sure nothing short of a surgical operation — a com- plete cutting away of old habits and the formation of a new school tradition — would meet the case. The first aid which I invoked was " nature study," mainly from its aesthetic standpoint ; and from the very first I realized that, to be of any value, it must be nature really studied by the child himself. It must not be nature filtered through pic- torial illustration, textbook, dried specimen, and scientific terms, finally dribbled into passive children's minds minus the joy of assimilation ; but it must be the real study of living and w^orking nature, absorbed in the open air under conditions which allow for free movement under natural discipline. And since nature is the storehouse from which poet and artist draw their inspiration, it naturall)' follows that we found it but a short step from the study of the open book of nature into the Elysian fields of literature and the arts. Nature study then became the basis of every possible lesson ; and the school nature gardens and na- ture rambles supplied subject matter for lessons in singing, reading, writing, arithmetic, drawing, painting, recitation, composition, grammar, and much of the geography. It was because the lessons in history could not be so well connected with nature study, and therefore lacked the living interest w^hich the other subjects now acquired from nature, that the historical play in my school came to be evolved. A child learns, and retains what he is learning, INTRODUCTION 7 better b\' actually sccijig and doing things, which is a guiding principle of kindergartners. There is not a very marked difference between the ages of the children who enjoy learning by kindergarten games and of the so-called " older pupils." Why not continue the principle of the kindergarten game in the school for older pupils ? I did so, but with this difference : instead of letting the teacher originate or conduct the play, I demanded that, just as the individual himself must study nature and not have it studied for him, the play must be the child's own. How- ever crude the action or dialogue from the adult's point of view, it would fitly express the stage of development arrived at by the child's mind, and would therefore be valuable to him as a vehicle of expression and assimila- tion (which is, after all, what we need), rather than a fin- ished product pleasing to the more cultixated mind of an adult, and perhaps uninteresting to a child. So far as originality is concerned, 1 believe all children are original. But the elementary-school tradition (as we have been forced to know it hitherto) has followed faith- fully the lead of the first schoolmasters — who catered to pupils of mature years. This tradition tacitly presupposes the development of qualities and faculties of mind which are not developed in the child of tender years ; thus na- ture's plan is violated. To study a child who is attending a school conducted under such conditions will not result in our finding out much about the natural, normal child. A child in such a case will have learned to suppress himself — his originality — and not to express himself. 8 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING Language and facial expression are vehicles of thought (at least, they are in childhood). But in schools where the lessons are conducted on the lecture and question-and- answer principle, thought and language are limited and facial expression may be nil. The question, of necessity, determines the trend of the answer, and, to a certain extent, suggests the terms of the answer. In order that I might see how far the beauties of na- ture, literature, and the arts had been comprehended and appreciated by my pupils, I realized that I must get them to converse freely with me (or at all events where I could hear their real conversations), and not merely to listen to me or answer my questions. Here was the main difficulty (and here will lie the difficulty for those teachers who desire to base their children's school lives on rational and natural lines) — to obtain free, natural, and spontaneous conversation, real self-expression from pupils who have learned as a tradition that "Talking in school is against the rules ! " Here, again, nature study served me ; chil- dren once trained to observe rightly soon have no difficulty in telling about what they have seen, and lose all shyness in discussing the whys and wherefores of natural phenom- ena with others who have observed the same things. The four steps to original conversations and to an improved vocabulary were : 1. I first trained the children to sec the world of nature around them. 2. I encouraged them to tell me what they saw. INTRODUCTION 9 3. I showed them where to find their earhest im- pressions confirmed and crystalhzed, which was their introduction to good hterature, with its (to them) new vocabular)'. 4. I led them to look for "reasons why," by means of free discussions, and to imagine for themselves the gleam, " the light that never was, on sea or land." And all this time my pupils were developing rapidly — acquiring natural manners with a lack of self-conscious- ness ; enlarging their vocabulary with the knowledge of how to use it ; attacking difficulties with zest, and with an absence of nervousness or self-distrust ; taking a cheerful, bright outlook on life with no tendency to worry. Surely such habits are a more valuable foundation for a life's career than the mere ability to spell a large number of extraordinary words, to work a certain number of sums on set rules, or to be able to read whole pages of printed matter without being able to comprehend a single idea, or to originate any new train of thought. Having thus brought my school to a condition in which the pupils had really lost and forgotten tJic relationships of tcacJicr and pnpil, by substituting those of fellow workers, friends, and playmates, I had now to set to work to use to full advantage this condition of affairs. It was now quite possible to play any game in school without fear of the pupils getting out of hand, confused, or too bois- terous. There could be plenty of liberty without license, because the teacher, being a companion to and fellow lO THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING worker with the pupils, had a strong moral hold on them and shared in the citizen's right of holding an opinion, being heard, therefore, not as "absolute monarch," but on the same grounds as the children themselves. Hence every one exerted his or her individual powers to make the plays a success (which in the children's opinion meant their being real and lifelike), and it was the equal right of teacher or child to say, " So-and-so is n't playing the game," or in some other way to criticize the actions of others. It was, moreover, a point of honor that pupils so criticized should take the matter in good part and endeavor to con- form to the rules of the game. Our first plays were Jiistorical and were based on the historical novel, because 1. The children were already interested in read- ing them, and had formed fairly dramatic pictures of them in their own minds, 2. I desired that, at first, the children should act real characters rather than mythical or fairy crea- tions. This did away with acting for display in the usual school-entertainment style, which would have detracted considerably from the educational value, in that it would have fostered self-consciousness or nervousness. 3. The pupils had already, with my cooperation, formed a school library for use during school hours, and this contained a sufficient number and variety of books out of which to extract material for the INTRODUCTION 13 dialogues and arrangements of their plays. In these books they had already found many scenes dealing with real historical personages, which were easily adapted to the needs of school games and plays. The point which I should like particularly to emphasize is that the earliest plays should deal with real persons. Children are generally sincere and are most interested in a story that is true. A great advantage of this new method of learning lessons by means of playing and acting them, lay in the fact that it was not absolutely necessary to have the lessons in one particular room ; they could as easily, or more easily, be played in the open air. Frequently we acted our history plays on the downs, in overgrown chalk pits, or just in our own school playground. The advantage of this adaptability of situation lies in the fact that more movement and open-air conditions make for the improved health of teachers and pupils alike. In the history of education we appear to have arrived at a time when we have to consider the advisability — or the reverse — of giving our pupils what is termed a practical education. Too often, it seems, the practical degenerates into the merely technical or utilitarian, and may usurp time which should be given to the humanities. Every one agrees that childhood should be — and nearly always is — the happiest time of life ; when that is once over, there is " something lost and gone " that no subsequent happiness quite atones for. If this be true, then am I wrong when I 14 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING claim that childhood should be a time for merely absorb- ing big stores of sunshine for possible future dark times ? And what do I mean by sunshine but just the things for which nature implanted (in the best and highest part of us) an innate desire ? The joy of knowing the beauties of the living world around us and of probing its mysteries; the delights of finding sympathetic thoughts in the best of English literature (a literature unrivaled in the world !) ; the gradual appreciation of the beautiful in art ; the desire which all these bring to burning youth to be up and " doing likewise " ; the awakening of the young enthusi- asm, even of merely evanescent youthful dreams, instead of the soul-deadening monotony and limitation of tech- nical instruction — these are the things that count. Let the boy who delights in experiment and investigation follow his bent, and, when he himself is ready and eager for it, then supply the necessary technical instruction. Do not damp and kill the fires of young enthusiasm ; they make the world go round. Our dreamers have been our real workers after all ; they " dreamed dreams and saw visions " and probed things new, while they of the earth, earthy, were content to toil mechanically, as beasts having no understanding. You cannot turn out scientist or artist without a training in the humanities. And we are not re- quired to teach the humanities, but to allow our boys and girls in their natural enthusiasm to absorb them from the en- vironment which we can, at least, help to place around them. Curiously enough the most striking result of teaching by means of the "play " in school is that children become INTRODUCTION 1 5 really practical in the best sense of the word, although we set out to ignore the practical and pay attention to the humanities. And one other plea for the dramatic method of teach- ing in school : it makes for greater happiness of both pupils and teachers. We all do our best when we are happy. Most of us are happier when conscious of giving pleasure to others. A great many persons are of the opin- ion that, "as the teacher, so the class." I believe, at all events, that the temper of the teacher must necessarily react on the class ; and I know that thunderclouds of impatience or mists of disappointment are quickly dis- pelled by the sight of happy, healthy children entering with zest into their interesting dramatic plays ; and that hardened and deadened indeed must be the teacher who can resist the happiness radiated by children anxious to play well, and looking for the encouragement shown by the approbation of fellow pupils and teacher. It may be argued that all these results might possibly be obtained in the usual school routine, by making the ordinary lessons more interesting by means of pictorial illustrations or by the teacher's telling the children stories inculcating the lessons in hand. And I reply that it is more in keeping with child nature not to sit constandy " as a passive bucket to be pumped into." I know that, as a child, while I promptly forgot all my " school " his- tory (taught, no doubt, in what ought to have been the most interesting fashion, with anecdote and illustration), I have still a clear and lively recollection of the history l6 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING (and other things) which I acted with my chums after school hours. As a matter of fact, my pupils remember an enormous amount of detailed history and fact, not to mention such things as genealogical tables (bane of all children), dates, and statistics, which they have absorbed unconsciously during their plays and in the preparation of them. Probably most people have recollections of the time in their life when action seemed the keynote of their char- acter. Robert Louis Stevenson, who understood children better than most people, says : " We grown-up people can tell ourselves a story, all the while sitting quietly by the fire. This is exactly what a child cannot do, or does not do — at least, when he can do anything else. He works all with lay figures and stage properties. When his story comes to the fighting he must rise, get something by way of a sword, and have a set-to with a piece of furniture until he is out of breath." Young pupils entering our school from another very soon fell into the ways and discipline of ours ; which, I think, showed that our method worked on natural lines, although it was a contrast to that generally prevailing. I remember being much struck by hearing the inspector of our district say at an educational meeting that very few women teachers possessed a sense of humor — or at least he never found them exercising it. I have found it a great safety valve. How often a sense of humor at the right moment may prevent the tragedy of life from strik- ing too deep ! By humor I do not mean the silly frivolity INTRODUCTION ly which characterizes so many children, — the gigghng at mere fooHshness, which would, of course, upset any school, — but just the ability to see the humorous side when it ought to be seen. We frequently had amusing little unre- hearsed effects in our plays which might have resulted in quarrels or teasing, and so upset " plays " in school. Then it was that the ability to " see the joke " saved the situation. I think a sense of humor — duly harnessed — is a valuable asset even for a business man (although I did not profess to be training business men — Heaven forbid!). On one occasion we were acting the insurrection of Jack Cade, and Cade was being slain in I den's garden. He should have said : '' Oh, I am slain ! Famine and no other hath slain me." What he did say was : " Oh, I am slain ! Salmon and no other hath slain me." A hearty laugh interrupted his beautiful death peroration. When we explained his slip no one laughed more heartily than he. But it was remark- able that once the laugh was legitimately and naturally out, every one fell to once more with the play. CHAPTER II THE TEACHING OF H1ST(3RY BY PLAYS OUR first attempt at drama as a legitimate school lesson was concerned with history. We had been reading Sir Walter Scott's " Ivanhoe " as an adjunct to the study of the reign of Richard Cceur de Lion and his times. I think we were all thoroughly imbued with the atmosphere of romance and dcrriiii^-do, and the boys in particular seemed ready for suiting the action to the word. The fire was laid ; it needed but the match to start it ! And here it should be noticed that the foundation and basis of our play was literature — not from the ordinarily accepted school "reader" containing a little bit about cotton, a little bit about coal, a scrappy extract from a " good " writer, with a poem about an impossible little girl who sewed "as long as her eyes could see" (so bad for her eyes, too!); the whole interlarded with moral maxims, conveying practically nothing to a child, and seasoned with a pinch of " tables " and another of " diffi- cult " words in columns ! No. In our school the whole book as it left the mind of its writer is placed on the open library shelf to be read by every interested pupil. The practical-minded person will probably now be in- terested to have a description of our first play. It was a i8 THE TEACHING OF HISTORY BY PLAYS 19 rainy day. Long play out of doors had been impossible ; so I started with a good supply of bottled energy and ''in- stinct for play" ready to command. A little talk with the children of the upper classes and a discussion on the char- acters in "Ivanhoe" led to such remarks from the boys as, " If / had been So-and-so, I should have done so-and-so "; and as play out of doors was out of the question, some one soon suggested, "Couldn't we play at 'Ivanhoe' indoors ? " From that time I had no further doubts as to whether the play in school could be successfully man- aged. But to outsiders there was nothing brilliant in our first attempt. To us who were "in it," the schoolroom was really the lists at Ashby de la Zouch, or any other place our imagi- nation desired, but an outsider could see only the restricted space in front of an ordinary class. No time was wasted at first in arranging scenes or casting parts. It took but a few seconds for the boys to settle on a rosy, rotund boy for a jovial Friar Tuck, who at once deposited himself under a high, spindle-legged desk which he dubbed his hermit's cell. " I 'm the Black Knight," said another, dragging his black jersey over his head for a suit of chain mail. " Let me be your horse," volunteered another, prof- fering the necessary " back." Soon the play was in full swing, although it might not have seemed encouraging to the enthusiast (burning to " improve " the children) to hear Friar Tuck, forgetting the text of the book, retort "Shan't," when the Black Knight thundered with his heavy " pointer " on the spindle-legged desk, demanding 20 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING admittance or "the road." The same Friar Tuck, when told by his onlookers that he ought to sing loudly, impro- vised quite an appropriate refrain to the words " Tol-de- rol-lol." No one laughed, and none were at all irreverent, when he changed the tune to, "\Miile shepherds watched their flocks by night," as the nearest substitute he could find for a monkish Latin chant. There was plenty of interest, plenty of life, no ill-temper, and a sufficiency of self-expression both verbal and facial. It has always been an axiom in matters of school method that one of the first essentials in teaching any subject should ^ be, "First arouse the desire to knowy When our pupils began to dramatize their lessons, they at once developed a keen desire to know many things which hitherto had been matters of pure indifference to them. For instance, after their initial performance of scenes from " Ivanhoc," they Y soon began to study the book closely to supply deficiencies y in dialogue; and when dialogue was rendered according to r the book, it had to be memorized (voluntarily), and this led to searching questions after meanings and allusions, some of which the older pupils soon learned to find in the dictionaiT. Here, then, was " English " studied vol- untarily by young country children, to the enrichment of their vocabulary and the satisfactory rendering of plays for their own recreation. An enormous amount of general knowledge can be acquired in the hunt for meanings and derivations of words. For example, the sentences: " Doth the Grand Master allow me this combat.?" " I may not deny what thou hast challenged, if the maid accepts thee THE TEACHING OF HISTORY 15 V PLAYS 21 as her champion," led to questions from the young actor impersonating the Grand Master as to what he was Grand Master of, and a consequent description of the order of Knights Templars, Crusaders, and the Holy Wars. This further led up to an allusion to the fact that a preceptory of the Knights Templars once existed not far from the school, and so to some local Church history. By the time the subject was exhausted every one had a good knowl- edge of it acquired pleasantly and permanently. They had made acquaintance with such terms as " palmers," "min- strels," "tournament," "chivalry," and "challenge"; and they had learned something about the way in which trade had extended and improved through the spirit of adventure which prompted men to travel and extend their horizon and experience. Each subsequent performance of scenes from " Ivanhoe " showed a marvelous improvement in knowledge and in- telligence of the right kind. The pupils themselves, even while inventing probable conversations not recorded ver- batim in the book, either consciously or unconsciously kept up the style and " period " in their own diction. They showed the greatest resourcefulness in getting over diffi- culties such as must occur when boys and girls have to leave school permanently or be absent temporarily. Always one or another would come forward ready and anxious to do the necessary work. The pupils themselves suggested costume and stage properties, which the girls contrived out of silver-paper tea wrappings supplied from their homes. What mattered it if the mvstic words " Ceylon Tea, $0.30 22 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING per pound " appeared writ large in sable on the hero's shield ? Jl^e saw only the shield of a Red Cross Knight. Such delightful surprises^ too, would the boys spring on us ! One morning it was a set of horse brasses bestowed on the joyful recipient by a teamster. Picture how de- lighted the crowd was in the playground that morning when the proud owner produced them and fitted them on the "war horse"; how, of course, Ivanhoe, the champion, must have that horse ; how the eager crowd trooped in to show their treasures to me ; and how truly good and happy they were when, disregarding the regular schedule, we rehearsed, and I raised no objection to the war horse's curvetting, stamping, and jingling its brasses. Why, it was a rfci/ tournament ! Then, of course, the question arose as to what would be the proper song for Friar Tuck to sing if he might not sing "While shepherds watched," which ended in a pupil's discovering a song which /ir thought appropriate and which turned out to be "There were three ravens sat on a tree — Hey-adown-hey derry derry down," which was, I think, a sufficient advance on the first attempt to prove encourag- ing to the most pessimistic of pedagogues. On an inquiry being raised for a tune for "Troll the brown bowl to me, bully boy," none was forthcoming, so Friar Tuck impro- vised quite in the style of the " Three Ravens." But eyes, ears, and minds were kept alert, and, joy of joys, one day an inspector visited the school who, when the song time arrived, could supply the tune. He sang it over once to the most attentive audience I have ever known, and when THE TEACHING OE HISTOR\ \\\ I'LAVS 25 he had gone away every child knew that tune and could sing lustily, " Ho, jolly Jenkin — I spy a knave drinking." I contrasted this with some of the laborious lessons on school songs that I have known — dead bones of songs, having no responsive chords in the hearts of boys and girls ! /• I feel convinced that my pupils, while playing, had learned far more of the English language, history, and withal romance, than I could ever have taught them by means of blackboard, columns of classified words, and Latin " roots " more suited to adult students possessed of a goodly store of voluntary attention and will power — to whom, by the way, I do not believe it would be very enthralling ! And surely there is no such virtue in black- board and chalk that they should be deemed essential in the teaching of all subjects in school. How much more in keeping with child nature is it to conceal the "pow- der" in the " jam," and to work with live puppets at play so that the end is reached through pleasant means. Our first pla}-s were what I term adapted plays worked / up from historical novels ; and when I had watched and helped through the first trial play, I began to see how it might be possible to throw more of the actual lessons, including their preparation and arrangement, on to the pupils themselves. I had long felt instinctively that the ordinary "notes of lessons" — even the best of them — were open to serious objection. For the best of notes, prepared by the teacher with laborious care overnight, pre- suppose an attitude of mind which may, in the morning, be missinsf from the class as a whole or from individual 26 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING children. The teacher who prepares her notes and says, " Now I will say this and the pupils will reply so-and-so," finds that her ''best laid schemes" may "gang a-gley," and that the unexpected most often happens, for the pupils' minds may not work according to the prepared ''notes," and friction is the result instead of harmony. Besides, more than half the benefit of the lesson lies, in my opinion, in the act of preparing it, in hunting its materials out of hidden sources and bringing them into shape. Most people know that the best way to learn a thing is to try to impart it. If any weakness in knowledge exists, it appears directly we try to impart our facts con- secutively. How much better, for instance, it is to hunt out one's own botanical specimens and study them in their own native haunts than to have a set of dried specimens, carefully collected and preserved by some one else, put into one's hands, together with a full explanation and descrip- tion of their peculiarities, order, class, and habitat ! If the pupils know that they have to prepare certain scenes in order that they may, by such agency, impart cer- tain facts to their fellow students, they immediately feel the responsibility and derive the full benefit from the les- son because they " find it " themselves, little by little, and are receptive in the highest degree because they intend at once making use of what they have found. They learn to " feel their feet " under them, — to stand alone, — to find and use their ow^n powers. Children have a wonderful faculty for teaching other children and learning from them. Uncontrolled, this faculty THE TEACHING OF HISTORY BY PLAYS 2/ is generally used for getting one another into mischief, but diverted into other channels it may have a great influ- ence for good. Children know by instinct how to get ideas into their companions' minds where a teacher will fail for lack of the sympathetic touch. Another strong argument in favor of allowing children to impart knowledge to others is that the pupils in any one class will almost always be from the same neighborhood, and limited to the same vocabu- lary; hence they will find the correct terms of expression to convey the necessary intelligence to their hearers. I have frequently found this occurring in our improvised school plays, and have been delighted to hear clever para- phrases and translations into everyday language, showing, as they did, such complete grasp of the author's meaning. It was not only boys who could adapt plays. Suitable parts and plays were found for and by the girls. In " Ivanhoe," of course there was a Rebecca and a Rowena ; and noth- ing could have excelled the simplicity and quiet dignity with which they prepared and went through their parts. Naturally in historical plays boys' parts predominated, but the girls did their full share of assisting in the preparation for them and in making notes of all the scenes which had to be compiled or invented. This brings me to an impor- tant point in the dramatization of lessons. The clerical side is by no means neglected ; it is, in fact, extremely arduous, but the children are unconscious of this, sin ce the work is voluntary and determined in amount by themselves. Having found by disappointing experience that " lovely " speeches, drawn from, perhaps, two or three different 28 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING books, were forgotten at the critical moment or rendered badly, the pupils made a point of writing out their speeches in full and /;/ their oivn time! Their reward was that they convinced their audiences. One can easily see how children mav_unconsciously ab- sorb the art of spelling by encountering new words during the act of writing out notes or parts. And similarly they fall into the art of good composition and style in just the way that we grown-ups model and remodel our style — on the plan of unconsciousl}- imitating that of good writers wdth a dash of ourselves thrown in. Here, then, are two of the " three R " bogies tackled without tears — reading and ' ritiug : reading^ for in formation and immediate profit (not to speak of longer deferred and more lasting results, of which more anon), which is ' ' readmg^\\athjntelligen^ and this no one can deny; and writing, not a mere "exer- cise " for the sake of writing and correction, with visions of the waste-paper basket looming large in the background, but writin g: for a,purpose and for preservation for present and future use. The sonrees from which the pupils drew their adapted plays were always placed within their reach. In one corner of the schoolroom the boys theniselves have erected four long shelves, made out of disused desks. On these shelves we formed a colle ction of books, including as many good historical novels as we could, and endeavoring to obtain at least one good novel on each reign or period of English history. Such books as Lytton's '" Harold " and "The Last of the Barons," Kingsley's "Heroes" and " Hereward THE TEACHING OF HISTORY BY PLAYS 31 the Wake," Scott's "Kenilworth," "The Talisman," and "The Abbot," Blackmore's "Lorna Doone "; several good tales of sea adventures of the times of Raleigh, Drake, and Frobisher ; as many good histories as we could collect, really good manuals, — a "Green" and a "Fletcher,"- — all found a place on our shelves. Particularly useful books were collections of stories from the original authorities of history. We had various books which contained stories bearing on every reign, and since these stories were trans- lated or adapted from the best-known authority on each subject, we regarded them as authentic. These books were left in an easily accessible place with no locked doors, or elaborate cupboards where they might be stored and neglected. Every pupil knew that, as soon as he or she could read, the books might be freely con- sulted and used for reading, reference, or making notes at any time, either before, after, or during school hours. Our free system of discipline allowed pupils to hold quiet discussions together, — either at the library shelf or at their desks, — and I found the more I trusted them, the more trustworthy and unsuspecting they became. One would see a child quietly get up, walk to the shelf, hunt through the books for a probably useful one on the subject in hand, spend a little quiet time turning the pages, be- come absorbed, raise his head and say, "Miss Johnson, there is so-and-so in this book!" or "Here's the very thing we want — can't we put this in such-and-such a play .? " or take out a notebook, always kept handy, and busily make pencil notes. 32 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING . There was often quite a msh for the driest of history w;- books, because such books supphed all the facts without too much padding, and were most useful and reliable in tracing the life histories of notable personages. For the same reason biographies were eagerly sought — not be- cause the pupils had been told to study biographies, mark ^ you, but because they had, foj- themselves, discovered their intrinsic value. I cannot too often or too strongly insist on this point ; namely, the way in which the dramatic ; method made the pupils of our school self-reliant, largely self-taught, and self-developing. How many generations of children have turned with disgust and loathing from the dry-as-dust textbook (for examination purposes) — history served up to them in an undigestible mass ! I, my- self, have been among the number. After all, it makes all the difference in the world how one's food is served up. If it looks attractive and dainty, it is eaten with relish. Just as food enjoyed nourishes the body, so lessons enjoyed are readily assimilated by the mind. Thus instead of turn- ing from the dry textbooks and fact lore, my pupils vol- untarily asked for them, and used them well. It was the case over again of the food rendered attractive. Why .? Because we had put the textbook /// its proper place — not as the principal means, but merely as a reference, and for assistance. It has often been argued against our method that it taught the pupils to rely on themselves too much, and on books too litde — that the children neglected / books too much. The fact is, the basis of all their work was not one book, but manv books. THE TEACHING OF HISTORY BY PLAYS 33 No play was adapted from any one book. All the authorities on the subject of the play were consulted, brought together in note form, and reviewed. The best material was then selected from, each, and any hiatus supplied from the intelligent imagination of any member of the class who hit the " public opinion " on the matter. (We were a very united community !) As soon as the necessary material — or, at least, suffi- cient to make a fair start — had been collected, the next step was naturally to choose characters, cast parts, and either read the play through or tentatively rehearse. Here, again, our system of freedom of discipline served us in good stead. It did not take very long to discover among the scholars a bold moving spirit. In other circumstances he might have been warped into a ringleader or black sheep. I soon found I had merely to say to him : "John, suppose you take the books and go with the boys out into the playground. I dare say you can all manage to choose your parts. See what sort of a play you can make from what you have collected." In less time than one would think possible, they would be back, tapping on the school- room door, with the play in such a condition that I would be quite astonished at the originality and individuality shown. At the same time one of the most noticeable fea- tures was the way in which the pupils, children as they were, would bring out, apparently quite casually and without effort, the salient points of the history they were engaged in Icai'uing without being taught formally. They showed, too, a marvelous aptitude for casting the right pupils for 34 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING parts, in which task they were doubtless much aided by John and his successors. No doubt, too, the tone of the school — its new school tradition — helped those who felt they could interpret a part to declare themselves ; and it seemed an unwritten law that any one who volunteered in this way should be given a fair trial, the volunteer always realizing that if he proved unsuitable in the opinion of the majority, he should make way for some one else. " What happened to the pupils for whom no parts could be found ?" I hear )-ou ask. Whenever it was possible, they were worked into a " crowd " of citizens, or an "army," or a "crew"; but where this was out of the question, they sat at their desks and formed a "chorus," whose duty it was to announce players, fill up gaps in the play with explanations, tell dates, and give suggestions. In fact, they were made b)' every means to feel that they w^ere necessary to and a part of the play, and of course they learned a great deal of history and " English " by listening and commenting, arid they were very acti\e at this. All this did away with the idea of "audience" and consequently with " acting for display," self-consciousness, nerves, and possible jealousy and heartburnings, of which, of course, we desired to steer clear. As regards space, apparatus, properties, and time, we used, when acting in school, merely the ordinary space in front of the class — about twenty feet by six feet, or rather less. A door opening out of it led into the hall, and an- other door led into the classroom, which could be used in an emergency. We found this especially convenient when. THE TEACHING OF HISTORY BY PLAYS 35 as often happened, one pupil had to impersonate two char- acters and needed to make a quick change. Our apparatus was very simple. It consisted mainly of the school furni- ture, which I am sure pleased the pupils more than the most elaborate scenery I could have provided. They simply howled with delight when " Charles II " was hidden in a real cupboard — the more so as '' Charles" proved to be a very substantial boy, highly difficult to stow away between narrow shelves. He comported himself like a true " Royal Martyr" of the Stuart brand, and endured agonies of thumpings and pummelings by the anxious actors, who desired to shut the cupboard door before the '' Round- heads " arrived. Ingenuity decreed, on another occasion, that "Scrooge" (of Dickens's "Christmas Carol" fame) should look out of a window consisting of the top of a blackboard easel with a movable rail for hanging diagrams before the class. This scheme was enjoyed tremendously, and the inventor was loudly praised. This was a most noticeable outcome of the method of work : pupils would always praise good work in others, and if their compan- ions appeared unnoticed when praise was due, they drew attention to what they had done. When reading, a short while ago, Richard Jefferies's book "Bevis," I came across the following paragraph,^ which emphasizes very strongly my plea for self-made and self-planned properties : " He knew that the greatest pleasure is always obtained from inferior and incomplete instruments. Present a perfect yacht, a beautiful horse, a ip. 217. 36 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING fine gun, or anything complete to a beginner, and the edge of his enjoyment is dulled with too speedy posses- sion. The best way to learn to ride is on a rough pony." The boys, of course, always enjoyed battle scenes, and ^ made different "properties" for use in different battles, in order that the various reigns and periods might not be ^ confused. Thus for early English times they manufactured N halberds, or "brown bills," out of cardboard (for the metal work) and broom handles. Big brothers and fathers at home became interested at this point, and "properties " which were well w^orth preserving for future use began to ^ come in to us so fast that we had to set up a cupboard for storing them. Thus one father made a beautiful brass crown inset with colored glass jewels. Several persons presented us with wooden swords — the blades w^ere silvered, and generally the handles were of -bent tin and had some little realistic touch. An older brother carved and contrived some daggers in sheaths. Again, in this instance, the de- ^ sign had been faithfully copied from a history ; the carver was a former pupil of the school, who still kept up his <^ interest. In planning our armies we always found out from ' the histories the real numbers on each side, and kept ours as nearly as possible in proportion. Thus in "Agincourt " we ranged our English and French seven to one. In the trial of Charles I we arranged that the court should contain six men to represent sixty, and the " chorus " always told .us that there were sixty men present. TIIK TEACHING OF HISTORY IJV PLAYS 17 Sea maneuYers were popular, and we refought man\- a >< battle between English and I^utch. For these I allowed the boys to bring their soap boxes on wheels, generally preferring those with guiding wheels in front. It was great fun when the boys maneuvered into position (after many capsizings and accidents) with their cannon and fire- arms on board. Once the Dutch leader had his box boat turned into the semblance of a real ship by covering it 38 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING with cardboard over a cane-work skeleton, and rigging masts and sails of paper. To add the realistic touch each boy had plenty of chains on his boat to rattle when he dropped or weighed anchor. The next morning, long be- fore nine o'clock, I surprised all the first-class boys with heads together over a history with illustrations, looking up material for another bout with Van Tromp. The soap boxes on wheels (cube-sugar boxes too, sometimes) were one of our most valuable assets. The boys picked the wheels up from ragmen or marine stores for a few cents each, and found them very handy in their own little gar- dens, using the boxes as wheelbarrows. Anon they did duty for ships on voyages of discovery to other lands, and were very skillfully manipulated past dangerous shores, where desks — I mean capes — projected. "Queen Eliz- abeth's" state barge was a soap box — on this occasion draped in red cloth. If no soap box was available on history day, however, no one was at a loss, for a bench, inverted, was slowly and gracefully dragged across the floor with "her Majesty" seated thereon. "Charles 11" escaped to France in a disused bathtub, which rocked beautifully. From the same tub fishermen on the Volga hooked giant "fish " in the shape of the school dusters. One of the most comical properties w^as a set of brown-paper animals' skins, into which small boys would creep, and add a very realistic touch to geography and other plays. "John," before men- tioned, designed and painted these, and the girls sewed them up. Another ingenious boy cut a suit of Saxon serf's garments out of sacking and sewed them at home THE TEACHING OF HISTORY BY PLAYS 39 by himself. The girls, of course, could do much in mak- ing costumes, and we soon found that certain stock gar- ments were wanted which could be used for most history plays. These, of course, saved the trouble of making fresh costumes every time. For instance, there was generally a king, and of course he would wear a crimson cloak trimmed with ermine (wadding painted with dots of ink) and a crown. A scepter was made by a father out of a brass bedpost cut short. It was useful also to have a bishop's miter of brown paper covered with gold paper. Queen's and court ladies' robes were fashioned of white lace win- dow curtains pinned at the shoulders and allowed to trail. A court jester's cap and bells were easy to make. A few pairs of sateen knickerbockers and short cloaks were made by the girls from patterns supplied by a pupil's mother, and these could be adapted to many periods. Coarse string or knitting cotton made up into "shirts of mail" was dyed with ink and afterwards touched up with silver paint to give a tarnished metal appearance. Womens' discarded black stockings made long " trunk hose" for the boys. A crowning triumph was the fashioning, by the girls, of naval )C officers' coats, for use by " Nelson " and his officers, out of old black and navy blue skirts, with large silver-papered buttons. True, " Hardy " soon grew out of his coat, and looked as funny as a Cruikshank illustration, with his waist buttons halfway up his back and his wristbands almost at his elbows. The tea-paper armor was always mounted on either stout brown paper or cardboard, so that it should not 40 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING become ragged. We found ordinary paper fasteners suit- able for joints, and where it was possible to use them they were more serviceable than stitches. Paper fasteners also made very effective " studs " for shields, and the most successful costume we ever made was one for Edward when ^we played " The Burghers of Calais." We cut out a large shield in cardboard and bent it slighdy. This we covered carefully with white cartridge paper, overlapping the paper at the edges and attaching it to the cardboard with brass paper fasteners as " studs." Next we cut out the royal w arms of England in gold paper and carefully pasted them on the shield. We then made Edward a cloak of white cotton cloth and bordered it with gold paper. Our method of fastening gold paper to this cloth was our own, and we found it practicable. W^e mixed a tablespoonful of starch with boiling water, and when it cooled applied it to the back of our strips and patterns of gold paper. These w^e laid carefully in position on the cloth and then ironed them flat with a hot flatiron. The patterns then looked as though they had been painted or embroidered on the gar- ment. This form of decoration was easy and effective, and looked especially well when the golden fleur-de-lis was used as the pattern for bordering. Odd strings of beads given by the pupils from time to time answered for ''jewels," and our armory included some homemade bows and arrow^s. These articles were all kept in one cupboard, duly labeled, ready for immxcdiate use, and were looked upon in the light of school apparatus as much as sets of historical readers or piles of slates ; and we considered THE TEACHING OF HISTORY HV PLAYS 4I them no more trouble to attend to and keep tidy. We found that children of the upper classes were generally of a fairly uniform size, and we always renewed such things as paper headgear when a new actor had to take a certain part, so that there should be no danger of infection. We tried, when possible, to arrange that the boy who had once been a king should not be another king — at all events during the same school year. We hoped in this way to avoid confusion of reigns in the pupils' minds. We treated all important personages, such as Nelson, in the same way. The time occupied by history plays proper consisted of that set apart for history lessons, because we considered our play in the light of a lesson. We had two of these each week, one of a half hour's duration, and one of one hour. Preparation had to occupy the pupils' own leisure time and odd minutes in school, many of which would otherwise have been wasted ; while for the making of notes an occasional writing lesson was set apart. Once a week we had what we termed a " library morning," when -each pupil was allowed to take a book from the library shelf and read it silently at his desk. Questions might be asked and answered, and little discussions were permitted, so long as only one person spoke at a time and the general order and quiet of the class was not upset too much. Then it was that the most valuable discoveries were made for possible "plays," and a good deal of the preparation done. Frequently, too, while on an expedition or " nature ramble " in the summer time, we would be out of doors 42 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING the whole morning. Then when the ordinary playtime arrived we would arrange ourselves on the side of the downs or in a little copse, and go through a short history play ; occasionally we would arrange a new and impromptu one. Sometimes these were very well arranged by the children ; often they were better, from an educational standpoint, than plays to which more preparation had ^ been given. At the time of the Quebec pageant in mem- > ory of the gallant Wolfe, the boys arranged a most suc- ^. cessful and thrilling "Wolfe on the Heights of Abraham" in a disused chalk pit, where they could scale the heights most realistically. And of course Charles II and the Boscobel Oak episode could be played to perfection only in a little wooded plantation. Scenes from their favorite ^ " Ivanhoe " were the delight of their hearts on summer afternoons under the shade of the greenwood tree. And here, in passing, as an example of how this kind of teaching was training the pupils to a sense of the fitness of things (a splendid possession through life!), I ought to mention that they soon began to quote from good authors quite appropriately and naturally. On the first occasion on which they tried scenes from "' Ivanhoe," out in the litde wooded spot, they naturally connected their Locksley or Robin Hood and his bold outlaws with the greenwood tree, and needs must pose themselves like a band of " merr)- men " enjoying an evening rest, while an unseen chorus of girls behind the trees sang " Under the Greenwood Tree," to Dr. Arne's setting. A finer effect I have never heard from the most practiced of singers, the T H E T E A CI 1 1 N G OF HIS T () R ^ ]\\ PI. A \ S 43 voices mellowed by the open air — young, fresh voices — and the birds in the trees overhead echoing and vying with their song ! After all, 7i>/n' do wc si?ig ? To please the sense of hearing, and also a deeper, more ccsthetic sense. Then our children should learn to sing artistically and in the open air. And docs the ordinary school singing please the senses } Does it not lack spontaneity "^ Then let your pupils use their singing for a purpose, and you will find that they will realize what is required instinctively and supply the effect. I called this little tableau " drama- tizing" their singing. Some may question the effect on the listeners. What I saw was a group of silent, thoughtful- looking boys, resting in perfectly natural poses, and sobered in spite of their )outh and boisterous, boyish spirits, to a quiet, listening attitude. I have not the faintest doubt that theirs was perfect enjoyment, for the spell was not broken when the song ceased. I did not question them as to their sensations, nor ask if they enjoyed the music, nor what their impressions of it were. I doubt if they could have told me in so many words. But they have often, since then, asked to have the song again in school, and the boys have always supplied the soft whistling of the birds as an accompaniment because the real birds were missing. CHAPTER III THE ADAPTED PLAY AS an example of what I may call an "adapted" play, . and more particularly one for girls as well as boys, I give that on the reign of Elizabeth, as it was partly adapted from "Kenilworth" and partly originated by indi- vidual scholars. It is copied from one of the girls' note- books. The bo\s had fixed up the movable blackboard table as a tobacco stall ; other stalls were arranged on the front desks ; while the space in front was supposed to rep- resent a street in old London — the chorus generally said Cheapside. All those ta'king part in the play were ranged at one end of the room, which we called "off stage." Those left seated in the desks and called "chorus " then described the scene as they imagined it to be — narrow streets badly paved wdth cobblestones, stalls with market women keep- ing them and calling their wares, and idle apprentices. Scene I. The Market Enter tivo Market Women witJi baskets ofwairs. Appren- tices seattered about the stalls, ealling, "What d'ye lack .? " First Woman. Hast heard the news that Philip hath sent a large fleet of ships to I^ngland against us } 44 45 THE ADAPTED PLAY 47 Second Woman. Odds, woman ! thou dost surprise me. First Woman. There are hundreds and hundreds of them, and I did hear that a man named Drake and some of his friends were playing at bowls down at Plymouth Hoe, when another man came riding up to them and told them that the Spanish were in the Channel. The good Queen, God bless her ! went down to see the army, riding on her gray pony. Enter Third Market Woman, 7vJiilc a Man draws near to listcji, catiii!^ a large apple Third Woman. Do you know that the English are sending out fire ships } Second Woman. Lawk-a-mussey-me ! What are they .'' Third Woman. Why, they are old vessels filled with tar, and gunpowder, and things that will burn easily. They turn these adrift among the enemy's ships and they either set fire to the other ships or blow them up. Second Woman. They say the Spanish ships sail in a half-moon shape. Man. [ WitJi apple'] Ah, it wants stout English hearts like mine to fight the Spaniards ! First Woman. Methinks your stomach is greater than your heart. Second Woman. Yes, judging by the size of his apple — but hark ! here comes the Queen. We must be off to our stalls. 48 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OE TEACHING Enter Queen Elizabeth, Court Ladies, and Courtiers Market Women. What cV ye lack ? What d' ye lack ? First Woman. \Cnrtsies\ Ribbons and laces for sweet pretty faces, your Majest)'! First Court Ladv. I -will have a yard of sarcenet to deck my bodice for this evening's morris dance. Second Woman. Nice, fresh arum roots to stiffen the ladies' ruffles, your Majesty! OuEEN. Yes, my ruffles are exceedingly limp. I will have a pound sent to the palace. Third \V()max. Woundwort, to cure cuts and bruises, your Majesty! Court Lady. Oh, vour Majesty, do you not remember that poor soldier who was wounded in a bout at quarter- staff last night } Queen. Indeed, poor fellow! then see that he has some woundwort made into poultices and applied to his sore pate. Third Woman. Stitchwort, to cure stitch in the side, your Majesty! Second Woman. Rosemary and thyme to scent the floors with, your Majesty! Court Lady. See, your Majesty, the new flower called wallflower, brought from America ! Queen. Methinks I should like to smell that sweet flow^er. [Market Woman presents a b?ineh, iv/iieh the Queen S7nffs daintily. They pass along nntil they reach tobacco staW] See, my ladies, the new stuff called tobacco, '.5 > > 49 THE ADAPTED PLAY 5 I brought from Virginia ! [Courtiers stop and pure Jiase cigars and aivkwardly light tlicni ; the Queen nieanzvhile passes on afezv steps\ Oh, this muddy pool — what shall we do, my ladies? And my feet are so lightly shod! [WAr/rEK Raleigh steps forward and graeefidly places the cloak zvhich he has worn lightly on his shoulders over the muddy spot — remaining kneeling on one knee ivJiile the Ladies, headed by the Queen, pass over diy-shod] Who is that young courtier ? First Court Lady. He is one Walter Raleigh, your Majesty, who sailed the oceans wide, and brought back the tobacco, and the potato, and the wallflower from Virginia. Second Court Lady. And called it Virginia after the Virgin Queen, your Majesty. Queen. Well, bring him to the palace, and perhaps we shall find him a post there. Now to the barge, my ladies. \^Exeunt all slowly\ The words of this scene the children obtained from various sources, and invented all they could not so obtain. It was characteristic of them that they worked in a little of their nature study when they alluded to " woundwort," "- stitch wort," and " arum roots." It is a fact that wild arum (cuckoopint) tubers contain starch, which was used for starching ruffs in Elizabeth's reign. The children dis- covered the starch by applying iodine and obtaining a purple-colored reaction. 52 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING The children next changed the scene to Kenihvorth Castle, and borrowed the wording of their scene from Sir Walter Scott's "Kenil worth." Scene II. KenihvortJi Castle, dcscj'ibcd by Chorus as usual Music ■ — something stately — treuerally a gavotte. Court- iers and Ladies enter, a feiv at a time. The various groups greet one anotJier with profound, courtly boivs and the deepest of curtsies. Music grows louder and imitates fanfare of trumpets. Enter Oueex. The Courtiers and Ladies/^?// back into tzvo lines, and the Queen bows from side to side. Her Ladies accompany hei% and Pages carry her train. Queen sits dowji, and all the Ladies ajid Gentlemen group themselves about her Queen. Bring in that young courtier. Courtier. Yes, your Majesty. [Goes out, boiving. His voice is then heard] The Queen requires you in her presence. Enter Raleigh. He kneels in front of tJie Queen Queen. You have, young man, spoilt a gay mantle in our service. We thank you for your courtesy, but your gallantry shall not go unrewarded. Go to the wardrobe keeper and he shall supply you with a suit quite of S3 THE ADAPTED PLAV 55 the latest cut. [Raleigh shakes his head and makes a sigji as if he deeliiied the Queen's present'] How now, boy? What wouldst thou have of me — neither gold nor garment ? Raleigh. Only permission, madam, to wear my own cloak. Queen. To wear thine own muddy cloak, thou silly boy ! Heard ye ever the likes, my lords 1 Raleigh. It is no longer my cloak, since your Maj- esty's foot hath trodden upon it. Queen. Then we will reward you in our own way. Your sword, Essex. \TJie Eakl kneels and hands his siuord to the Queen, zvho strikes Raleigh lightly over the shonlder with it] Rise, ^Vr Walter Raleigh. [Raleigh rises graeefully, while the other Courtiers shoiv jealousy and look displeased] Essex. Will you knight my friend, Nicholas Blount, your Majesty t Queen. Yes — bring him in. [Blount is fetehed] Your sword, Essex ! Rise, Sir Nicholas Blount ! [He rises awkwardly and elntehes at the Queen to save himself] EiKST Court Lad v. Did you see how awkwardly he arose, your Majesty .f* Second Court Lady. I heard his collar bone rattle. Queen. [LaugJdng] Yes, I did give him a smart tap. Now we will have a dance. [ TJiey dance a stately measure^ Now to the banquet — your arm, Essex. [Exeunt all] CHAPTER IV THE ORIGINAL PLAY A SLIGHTLY different kind of pla\' I have termed the original play. In arranging these the pupils themselves collected all the material from histories proper, and did not in any way rely on works of fiction or the his- torical novel or storybook for their dialogue. Naturally, as they were acting history, they had to get facts from some record in the same way as an ordinary dramatist must do. Therefore they consulted the historians but not the writers of fiction. This kind of play was consequently more difficult to get in form than such a play as " Eliza- beth," in which much of the dialogue was taken directly from books. One of the most successful of these " origi- nal " historical plays was that called " Charles I." For this the pupils chose six boys to be dressed as Puritans and represent sixty, ranged on seats in the usual front space, now called by the chorus Westminster Hall. Each boy wore a tall stovepipe hat of brown paper (made by the girls and painted black with ink) to show that he was a Puritan. As the class agreed that the Puritans should be stern men, the sort of men to " stand no nonsense," each boy was always careful to wear a \'ery sober, not to say stern, visage. The way in which they preserved their gravity 56 THE ORIGINAL PLAV 57 was quite marvelous — in fact, they were so much "in the play," heart and soul, that they did not think of anything but the proper demeanor. Other characters chosen were " Bradshaw," the judge, in his famous black hat, which the girls also constructed, making it extra large to dis- tinguish him from the others; "Cromwell," wearing a sword to distinguish him as the head of the Ironsides ; "Coke," the clerk of the court, wearing robes (sheets), and holding a scroll of paper (from which, by the way, he read his part to save learning it by heart at first); "Charles I," wearing a curled wig, which deserves a paragraph all to itself. It was designed and made bv one of the older girls. She made the foundation b\- crocheting a skull cap of wool, and to this she sewed strands of frayed rope which looked like fine glossy hair. When she reached this stage it was tried on a boy's head and given a "hair cut" to make the ends even. Then the "hair" was carefully curled in papers and pressed, after which it looked like a Cavalier's curled wig. " Charles" also wore very debonairly a black velvet "pic- ture" hat, given by a friend. We "corked" his mustache and short beard. He wore a pair of the sateen knicker- bockers and the long stockings before alluded to, a sword, a graceful cloak (made out of a woman's skirt), buckled shoes, and carried a knobbed stick which, as it had to do duty in the play, had the knob previously loosened so that it would fall off easilv. Other Cavaliers who accompanied him also had wigs, knickerbockers, and swords. The 58 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING " plumes " in their hats were novel, consisting merely of sprays of pampas grass such as are used in vases for decorative purposes. The girls were dressed in window curtains, with long trains, and carried fans (of plaited paper). Their hair and headdresses were copied from pic- tures of the period and were arranged before school time. The boy who acted as Coke in the first scenes took the part of Bishop Juxon in the later scenes, because, as he was already draped in " robes," all he had to do to show that he was a bishop was to don a miter. The two young children of Charles, the Duke of Gloucester and little Princess Elizabeth, were dressed as nearly as possible like the pictures one sees of them, and were chosen from the small children, so as not to make the " father " look ridic- ulous. " Princess PLlizabeth " wore a close-fitting lace cap and had two tiny pages to walk behind her. The boys drew and painted a coat of arms to take the place of the royal arms of England, bearing the words " God with us." This they pinned on the cupboard door, where " Charles" could not fail to see it on entering. P'or the king they placed the high desk chair, so that he might be in a prominent position. The first scene was laid in Westminster Hall and rep- resented the " first day's trial." The chorus always in- formed us that after the first day's trial we skipped over to the seventh day's trial. Here is the play as copied from a pupil's notebook, with comments by me. 59 THE ORIGINAL PLAV 6 1 Scene I. Wcstininstci' Hall Enter Gentlemen of the Court. When all are assembled, enter Cromwell Cromwell. Sirs, we have met here to-day to try a cer- tain man named Charles Stuart, who has done much harm to this country. We have had enough of his tyrannies, his Star Chambers, and his illegal ways of getting money. This must be stopped. PuRrrANS. Yes, it must ! Cromwell. He has been taught by his father the divine right of kings, and by the evil influence of the Duke of Buckinghamshire, helped on by his wife, he has caused the blood of many thousands to be shed. Coke. Yes, his evil influence has had a great effect. Cromwell. It must be stopped. We must cut these Stuarts out, root and branch. Enter Bradshaw Bradshaw. As we have met here to-day to try this man named Charles Stuart, go and fetch the prisoner. [Ushers of the Court go out and reenter, followed by King Charles, accompanied by Colonel Hacker and other Cavaliers] Bradshaw. Clerk, read the charge. Coke. YReads^^ The charge stateth that, with limited power to govern according to law, you should use that power for the benefit of the people — their rights, and liberties. But you have tried to take away the remedy for 62 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING misgovernment, and in making war on the present Parlia- ment you have caused the blood of many thousands to be shed. All this is against the public interest and common rights, liberty, justice, and peace of the people of this nation. You are a tyrant and a traitor ! Charles. Hold! hold! \^Hc touches Coke on the shoul- der luith his cane. The head of the cane drops off and rolls away. No one stirs to pick it up, although Charles looks round for them to do so. He picks it up himself] Bradshaw. Remove the prisoner. [Charles is re- moved, looking scornfully around] Chorus. End of first day's trial. Scene II. Westnnnster Hall six days afterwards Enter Gentlemen, Ushers, cVr., as before. TJie Gentle- men talk in undertones and seem to discuss the trial very gravely. Enter Cromwell Cromwell. Have you agreed on your verdict, gentle- men .'' JuRVMAX. Yes, we have. Cromwell. What shall it be t Juryman. Execution. Cromwell. When it is done it cannot be undone, so decide carefully, gentlemen. Juryman. There is no other way. It must be done. Enter Bradshaw Bradshaw. Have }ou decided on your verdict, gentle- men } What shall it be 1 THE ORIGINAL PLAY 63 Jurymen. Execution ! execution ! Cromwell. Come, we will sign his death warrant. [77/r warrant is si^^ncd, scaled, and stamped with the great seal of England. Coke holds it ont to view'] Coke. Will this suit your wishes, gentlemen .? Jurymen. Yes. Bradshaw. Go and fetch the prisoner. [ They make their ivay to the eonrt. The Crowd {represented by the Chorus /';/ desks, with a few standing) form two lines'] Crowd. Justice ! justice ! Execution ! execution ! Soldier. [Steps forwaid as C\\\v.i.v.^ passes] God bless you, your Majesty ! [The Kino tJianks him, but an Officer strikes the Soldier witJi his eane] Charles. Methinks that the punishment was greater than the offense. [He turns to the Cavalier walking beside him] Did you hear that cry for justice t Cavalier. Yes, your Majesty, and I wondered at it. Charles. So do not I. They will do anything their officer tells them, and they would say the same thing to their officers, if there were occasion, to-morrow. [TJuy enter the eonrt] Charles. [Looking at the coat of aims] God with us ! Do you see that coat of arms .? Colonel Hacker. Yes, it is the wrong one ! [Charles glanees round the court, sits down, and then starts up again] Bradshaw. Clerk, read the sentence. Charles. I refuse to be tried by this court ! Where are the peers, who, by the laws of England, alone can try me t 64 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING Bradshaw. We will try you ! Clerk, read the sentence. Coke. \^Reads'] Hear the appointment and purpose of this High Court which the king hath refused to acknowl- edge. The sentence which you are about to hear is the act and judgment of this High Court. The charge is proved upon you as the principal culprit, for all of which treasons and crimes this court doth adjudge that Charles Stuart is a traitor, murderer, a liar — Lady F'airfax. It 's a lie ! Usher. Who spoke there ? Lady Fairfax. I spoke. Usher. Silence in the court ! Bradshaw. Proceed. Coke. I repeat, is a traitor, murderer, a liar, and a public enemy, and shall be put to death by severing his head from his body. Bradshaw^ The sentence which you have heard is the act, sentence, judgment, and resolution of the whole court. Remove the prisoner. Charles. \Starting up\ But, sir, I may speak after the sentence. Bradshaw. Sir, you are not to be heard after the sentence. Charles. [Much agitated^ I may speak after the sen- tence ! Always, by your favor, sir ! I may speak after the sentence — by your favor — Bradshaw. Hold ! Charles. [Being led from court\ They will not let me speak — they will not let me speak ! 65 THE ORIGINAL PLAY 67 Scene III. A room in Whitehall Charles is seated, with Bishop Juxon, Colonel Hacker, Colonel Tomlinson, and Sir Thomas Herbert standing near Charles. I should like to see my children. Bishop Juxon. Yes, your Majesty. \^He goes ont. Reenter Bishop Juxon ivith Princess Elizabeth and yonng Duke of Gloucester] Charles. They are going to cut off thy father's head, my children. Children. Oh, father ! father ! Duke of Gloucester. Do not let them cut off my father's head ! Charles. They will cut off thy brothers' heads if they catch them. Do not you ever be a king, my son, or they will cut off thy head also. Duke of Gloucester. I will be torn in pieces first. Charles. Give my love to your mother. Children. Yes, father. Charles. Farewell, my children ! Children. Oh, father ! father ! [ They are led ont, sobbing, by Bishop Juxon. Charles falls on his knees, and the thire others do the same. TJie bell tolls. They rise, afid JvxoN lays his hand on Charles's sho7ilder] Bishop Juxon. You have only one stage more. It is troublesome, but short. It will carry you from earth to heaven. God bless you, your Majesty ! 68 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING Charles. It will carry me from an earthly crown to a heavenly one. Farewell ! \To Herbert] Take my sword. \To Juxon] Take my w^atch. YTJic bell tolls] I could not help being struck by the manner in which the children had collaborated to bring out the points of the history they desired to learn and teach, — just those points which a teacher would probably note down as the things necessary to emphasize, — and yet it was all done without effort. No doubt the reason was that each actor had his mind so much on his own part, and was so much in the part, that he was thoroughly acquainted with all the " whys " and the " wherefores," and with causes and their results. An ordinary class of children sitting still at desks, feeling themselves to be merely a class of children, might or might not be interested enough to inquire for reasons or results of actions. It is doubtful whether they would remember even what they heard, except for a very short time. Teachers have constantly to devise plans for insur- ing that children not only listen and pay attention but also remember what they hear. The truth is, that we all remember what we actually sec and do better than what we merelv hear — perhaps force ourselves to hear or are forced to hear. I wonder if people ever reflect on the enormous num- ber of facts which are talked mto children in elementary schools for probably seven whole consecutive years ! How^ monotonous it must become, although the child may not realize that it is monotony ! \\'hy should it be considered 69 THE ORIGINAL PLAY 7 I SO virtuous a thing for a class of children to sit still and listen, while a teacher (who is probably often very tired of it) talks on every subject or adopts what I call the " stand- and-deliver " attitude, and demands from the children opinions which they have not, as yet, formed ! The whole lecture and question-and-answer system appears to me now to be so dead — so utterly devoid of life ! If we are anxious to obtain a child's opinions afid to find out what he really knows (and consequently will remember), we should confront him with what he may be expected to be able to assimilate, and should throw the whole responsibility of as- similation onto him ; in other words, // is useless to eat the ehilcV s food for Jiiin ; he must eat it himself. To lec- ture a child on a certain subject and then to ask him one or two questions on it does not prove that he has learned, knows, or will remember anything about it. He may make a clever shot at the answer or he may be a little '' parrot." And how much useless lumber we may pack into a child's mind in seven years of ''fact teaching ! " For instance, of what practical value is it for a boy to know that Charles I was executed and said certain words at his trial, and to know the number of men who tried him, their names, and the dates when such things took place .? It may not be the facts themselves which are so valuable ; it is the habit of mijid iovm^d while learning them which makes their worth. If a boy has to search out the facts for himself, for a pleas- urable object, he will probably do it thoroughly ; and while doing so he will exercise his ingenuity, resourcefulness, self-reliance, and intelligence. If he does not exercise 72 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING these powers, it is certain, by the laws of nature, that they will become attenuated for want of use or be lost altogether. And I have heard frequent complaints from teachers that " So-and-so, who used to be so very bright in the primary school, seems to have lost all intelligence and is quite dull in the simplest things." There have been rumors, too, in other quarters, that boys leaving school and beginning work are lacking in initiative and self-reliance — both "business" qualities needed by boys. There is only one way to develop self- reliance and initiative, and that is to exercise these powers. If boys are expected to show signs of possessing these qualities on leaving school, then the time to develop and exercise them is /// school. There are not many ways in which such powers can be exercised while the pupils remain grouped in classes. It often happens that indi- vidual work cannot be done in class. But I have found that my dramatic method forced children to develop and exercise these powers automatically. A glance at the foregoing play will illustrate my remarks. The boy who represented Cromwell had to write his own speeches, and therefore on hitn was thrown the responsi- bility of finding out and putting together material. This w'as the first step toward developing self-reliance — respon- sibility of the individual. Probably one book of reference failed him and he di^M^iO'^^di perseverance . All books failed him at some junctures and he had to display ingenuity. He had to work in an introduction to the play and its characters, and in a few words describe the hero indirectly THE ORIGINAL PLA\' 73 yet gracefully. Here came in rcsonrcefidncss. Glance at his first speech and see how he accomplished all this with- out being talked into it or questioned out of it. He first ex- plains why the Puritans are assembled. He introduces the hero by name. He gives the Puritan version of Charles's character, the reasons for disliking him. He enumerates the crimes attributed to him or hints at them briefly. He finds reasons for Charles's weakness of character, — "he has been taught by his father," etc., — so he had evidently hunted up the reign of James I to find causes. This is not only teaching composition, but, at the same time, inculcating important habits of mind. After all, of what use is it to teach a child to write a fair composition if the other habits of mind are lacking or only survive in spite of circumstances .? In planning his speech he evidently conferred with "Coke," because the next long and explan- atory speech is by the bo)- representing Coke, who realizes that his opportunity lies in enumerating in greater detail the faults of Charles. " Cromwell" realized that he might properly be brief and leave detail to "Coke." Here was forethought. And here were two schoolboys aualy^^ing history and men ! Is it not worth a trial, this method which has such results to show } After all, it did not need much resourcefulness, self- reliance, or initiative to reproduce a story which had been read aloud to the class twice, or to write a page of " com- position " on a given subject, particularly when actual " headings " of the various sections of it were written on the blackboard for compulsory use ! I have read many 74 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING pathetic attempts of young pupils to oblige the autocrat who dictated these "headings," and I have heard of one poor little boy who tried to write an essay on the " cat," using " orange " headings, with disastrous results ; for he wrote : " The skin of the cat is its fur " (that was under the heading '' skin "). "Its flesh is the pulp. Its seeds I do not know." I do not think I ever found the children of my school writing about something they did not under- stand, because a child generally knows a great deal about what he "plays" ; and also because the pupils had formed a habit of freely discussing and " threshing out " difficul- ties with the community, in the act of doing which they deepened the impressions made on their brains, making remembrance more easy. It may have already occurred to the reader that one effect of the play — more particularly the original play — on the children would necessarily be a great improvement in their speech and diction. They naturally learned to speak freely, to enunciate clearly, and to avoid mumbling or chattering. They learned to choose their phrases care- fully and to clothe their thoughts in appropriate words. To give an instance of what I mean : one little girl was telling me that she had planted some seeds. She said, " I planted them in some dirt in a box." Another small child immediately said, "Don't say 'dirt,' say 'mold' or 'earth.'" Young as she was, she had learned to differentiate be- tween the polite term and the reverse. On another oc- casion, while on a nature ramble with the older pupils, I was picking my way over a very rough road full of THE ORIGINAL PLAY 75 old wagon ruts which had cut deeply into the soil. We were walking single file to avoid the mud. I turned to the girl immediately behind me and said: ''This is a horrid road." " 'Alas ! my journey, rugged and uneven,' " quoted she. It was a great help to the children, in learning to speak correctly, to be allowed to use appropriate and natural ges- ture, as was possible while acting a part. One remembers the "actions" taught in lessons set apart for "recitation" and "action songs." How little they expressed what the child himself felt ! And how impossible it was to show any real "expression" or feeling when reciting with the hands held rigidly behind the back ! It is true that the chorus of pupils who had no speak- ing parts had to sit at their desks during the performance of plays, but a great measure of the success of a play de- pended on them. Even they had no set form of words dic- tated to them. They were told to find words for themselves, and not a little of the work fell on them. It is not possi- ble or necessary to act the whole of any reign when playing history. The pupils ingeniously worked into their speeches as much explanation as could be included without being tedious. The rest they left to the chorus, who were con- stantly on the watch to "put in their oar" when some gap needed filling. For instance, in the play " Charles I " they always explained why the wife and two elder sons of Charles were not near him at his trial. Directly after the first scene, and while the next was being prepared, they would depute one of their number to be spokesman, who ^6 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING would say : "His wife has gone to the continent to try to raise an army," or other words to that effect. A glance round the school when a "play" was in prog- ress would soon show that all the children there were equally animated, eager, and interested, simply because we were using for educational purposes one of the strong- est instincts of childhood, I might almost say of human nature, — we were harnessing another Niagara Falls. CHAPTER V THE SHAKESPEAREAN PLAY IT was only to be expected that, as soon as the pupils of the school had tried to write their own historical plays (and hence knew the points of a good play), they should soon be on the watch for good ready-made plays illustrating the periods they happened to be studying. Naturally they found these in the works of Shakespeare, and thus, as with poetry, songs, and music, they "dis- covered" Shakespeare's works for themselves. It was not a case of the teacher telling the children to read so- and-so ; but, on the contrary, it was the children who drew the teacher's attention to the fact that, in the volume of Shakespeare which they kept on their library shelf, there were good plays which they could act. It was the pupils themselves, too, by the way, who subscribed their pennies and bought a well-illustrated edition of Shakespeare's works, which soon came to be one of the most used books in their library. Of course, just at first they found the complete plays too lengthy for their purpose and the wording too difficult. Then, once more, their ingenuity came to their aid and they discovered how to abridge and adapt Shakespeare to their own use. They began with " Henry V." 77 78 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OE TEACHING Their opening scene showed Henry as the hot-headed young prince, with his boon companions, bragging of the way he had defied Judge Gascoigne. His companions encouraged him, and he, in turn, promised them great honors when he should become king. Suddenly a mes- senger appears and tells him of the death of the king. He waves off his companions, saying, ''Away with you all! I have no more to do with you." The boys liked the first scene tremendously. They quite understood the spirit of the thing and introduced a bit of swordplay and a quar- rel, to which young "Prince Hal" put an end by striking up the swords of the combatants. After this they followed the plan of Shakespeare's " Henry V," made the second scene of that play their first scene, and abridged the " Archbishop of Canterbury's " speeches sufficiently to allow an explanation of Henry's claim to the French throne and his views on the Salic law. It was certainly interesting to watch how cleverly they got over the difficulty of knowing nothing of the French lan- guage. They made the messenger from the dauphin speak broken English ! The incident of the present of tennis balls was included, and " Henry " was quite fine in his denunciation of the insult and in his determination to send the tennis balls back as " cannon balls." The chorus in this play next recited from memory the passage from the play beginning Now all the youth of England are on fire, And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies, 79 THE SHAKESPEAREAX PLAV 8l while the king and others donned all the gorgeous armor they could muster. This in most cases consisted of string "chain mail" and silver tea paper. " Henry V" himself wore a shirt of fine mail consisting of a lady's silk vest ! Over the headpieces of chain mail they wore helmets, and the principals rode "steeds." They were generally dressed before the chorus had finished reciting, and would then ride past the school window, shaking their "lances" to show they were off to Southampton ! Xext they fitted in a little scene showing Southampton, the guilty Lords Scroop, Cambridge, and Grey, and their punishment by Henry. Mere writing cannot make my readers realize how well these little rural boys "lived" the parts. The dignity and restraint of " Henry " as he led up to the charge and sentence ; the guilty starts and shamed de- meanor of the culprits ; the correct bearing of " Exeter " as he said, "I arrest thee," etc.; the way in which the last-arrested conspirator broke his sword before delivering it up, were all realistic in the extreme, and certainly had their share in improving the tone and bearing of the boys. It was in this play that we instituted the rule that when, in a battle scene, the bell was rung, every one should stand quite still in a sort of tableau. This was to guard against accidents. I could stop the "fight" at will. The scene showing the siege of Harfleur was w'orked in this way : the walls were represented by chairs placed along the side of "stage" space. When " Henry" desired the moment of victory to arrive, he jumped upon one of the chairs, crying, ' ' To the breach ! To the breach ! " I would then 82 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING sound the bell and every one struck an attitude just where he was — some ''dead," some engaging in combat. The scenes in both camps before the battle of Agincourt were well adapted. The girls always pulled down the blinds to show that it was night ; the chorus described the place, time, geographical position, numbers on each side ; and '' Henry" recited the speech which answers "Westmore- land" when he wished for "one ten thousand of the men of England who do no work to-day." Of course they had a beautiful tableau for the finish of Agincourt, with both French and English leaders included. The boys suggested a voyage liome with French prisoners, and cube-sugar boxes rigged as boats were brought into requisition. All the chorus stood on the seats for a good view of the procession through London, and so real was it to them that I have heard little girls whisper excitedly, ''Here they come ! Here they come ! " and almost fall off the seats craning their necks and waving their hand- kerchiefs. It was easy to distinguish who were prisoners and who were victors. The former hung their heads and dragged their feet, while the latter held their heads erect and looked triumphant. The "cfo\vd" of soldiers, etc. in this play were not drilled or trained to their parts in the orthodox way. In fact, they never acted the play twice alike, but just ex- pressed themselves as they felt at the moment. Hence the play always went with a swing — spontaneously and never mechanically. No true educational expert will need to be told that this self-expression is the very thing we THE SHAKESPEAREAN PLAY 83 need most to aim at in order properly to exercise and train the children's faculties and get the best results. That the children zvere set thinking for themselves by means of playing their own version of Shakespeare's "Henry V " is proved by the fact that on the next ''Un- seen Reader " morning, following the first performance of "Henry V," there was a great rush for historical works of all kinds, and very shortly we heard such remarks as " Why, it was my son, Henry VI, who caused Joan of Arc's death ! " (from the boy who had impersonated Henry V). "Yes, and when Jack died ("Jack " was Henry V for the nonce!) Katharine married Owen Tudor, and that 's where the Tudor line came from," said another. "How do you know that } " said I. "I traced it on this table," was the reply. I looked at the book shown me. It was opened at a genealogical table ! Fancy that studied voluntarily by an ordinary boy ! Then a quiet, reserved boy — Ernest, otherwise Earl of Exeter — woke up from a brown study to say, " I have found a fine piece of poetry all about it." His book was "Ballads of English History," and he looked as though he were really and thoroughly delighted. What a great improvement on the highly colored and sensational litera- ture which is devoured by young lads so constantly ! I quote this incident to illustrate that the dramatic method of teaching shows, or rather leads to, the right way of using the textbook as a book of reference, voluntarily approached, rather than a book the contents of which have to be committed to memory in stated doses. 84 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING And if any one should wonder whether the pupils were really able to pursue any original investigations of their own from this pla\', I may mention that they found out without my telling them that Henry \^ claimed the crown of France from his ancestor, Edw^ard III, and learned about the Salic law. They themselves suggested that Henry VI inherited his weakness of character from his maternal grandfather, the French king whom Shakespeare painted as almost imbecile. As time went on the children became more ambitious. They naturally desired to dive deeper into the works of a dramatist who could provide them with such keen enjoy- ment in playing the life of Henry V. And this is not the least significant part of the work. "We needs must love the highest ivhen we sec it^ We do not need to be told that each one must find and see the highest for himself. How many a poor elementary-school child is doomed never to see it ! If he leaves school without having had a glimpse of it, however shadowy and distant, the chances are that he will never see it. His may be a life of toil, and his short leisure hours may be filled by the sensational " rec- reation " of the trick bicycle rider and other attractions of the varietv theater — good or harmless in themselves perhaps, but not sufficient to take the place of the pure pleasure and elevating benefit to be derived from real enjoyment of good literature. If we can give the child a taste for good literature wdiile still a pupil in the elementary school, w^e shall have opened the door by which he can, if he will, attain the highest. With a literature such as ours THE SHAKESPEAREAN PLAY 85 it is surely our duty to use such methods as will bring about this result. And, I ask you, will a child who has once lived for a time in the romantic Forest of Arden with Touchstone, Rosalind, and Orlando ever need to be shown in what volume he may find a way of escape from a sordid world of toil and worldly gain ? If he has ever taken a part in playing the delightful "A Midsummer Night's Dream," will he need to be at a loss where to find an evening's recreation ? If you have ever found delight or profit or improvement in Shakespeare's pages, you will know ex- actly how, by association of ideas, his plays haunt one's happiest hours. The w^orkingman need not necessarily — because he is a workingman — blow hideous noises and rude songs on a cornet, and generally make an exhibition of himself while on his annual " outing." 1 do not think it is too extrava- gant a dream to hope that one might see such things rele- gated to the limbo of the past. I know young enlightened workingmen who know their English literature w^ell ; who prefer to spend all their leisure time on their bicycles, touring this country of ours ; who see romance in the storied monuments of the past ; who are not bored by an evening in the country alone or wdth a kindred spirit ; who have the true artist's feeling for color in beautiful land- scapes ; who do not merely regard a patch of bright yel- low mustard as so much food for sheep, but as a touch of color and contrast in the landscape ; who know the names, abodes, and habits of all the flowers — rare or common — S6 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING of their countryside ; who know all the wonders and all the romance of the traces of our ancestors to be found in historic sections ! And that, not merely from folk legend and ignorance, but from the folk legend plus an intelligent store of knowledge obtained by reading and reasoning. Surely there is ground for encouragement when education of the right sort can turn out a workingman of this type. He will not be a less skillful or industrious worker because he is well read. A refined and intellectual workingman is often looked upon as a rarity and even with suspicion. I have hopes that the exact opposite may in time be true, and that it will be the man who works only that he may have money to spend on sensational enjoyments w^hom we shall call extraordinar)^ I have seen in my own village workingmen — including farm and garden laborers — who could not only sit through an evening of Shakespearean plays as spectators with intelligent enjoyment, but who could and did themselves give a splendid rendering of ''Julius Caesar." That the pupils appreciated Shakespeare out of school hours was clear, for fourteen of them chose volumes of his plays for their school prizes. They further took the trouble to specify which plays they wanted included, and the fa- vorites seemed to be "A Midsummer Night's Dream," "As You Like It," "The Merchant of Venice," "King John," " Henry V," "Julius Caesar," and "Henry VI." These they afterwards carried backward and forward between home and school, and made themselves well acquainted with the contents in the same way that they studied " Henry V." THE SHAKESPEAREAN PLAY 8/ The girls, in particular, enjoyed the romantic plays of Shakespeare, while the boys preferred the more busding historical plays. Their rendering of the scene between Hubert and Arthur in '' King John " was quite different from any I have ever seen given by schoolboys. If any person should like an experience similar to mine, let him set a few boys to prepare and act this scene as they im- agine it really took place, first reading the play carefully. I always see the boys in my mind's eye when I read the words of the play. The two attendants draped themselves in window curtains (which looked Hke ''villains' cloaks") and wore black paper masks — pieces of paper, with holes cut for eyes, tied round their heads. They carried a pail of coals such as road repairers use at night, and had two pieces of sharp iron stuck therein. The hot coals and red- hot irons were simulated with red chalk ! The boy who impersonated Hubert was, I feel sure, a born artist. In- stead of reciting his lines as if he were reading them word for word, he "thought" them, and showed his thoughts in gesture and facial expression. The result was that all his young audience understood the struggle going on in '' Hubert's " mind and were consequently interested, as children will be by anything which bears the stamp of truth — is ''really true." The young "Arthur" of the piece, taking his cue from " Hubert," showed how the real Arthur must have gained and followed up the advantages of his eloquent and touching appeals — so much so that the audi- ence was carried away. The same was true of the two attendants, one of whom really meant what he said when 88 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING he ejaculated, " I am best pleased to be from such a deed." The charm of the children's presentation of these plays of Shakespeare lay in their original treatment and interpre- tation of them, their novel "properties" and gestures. This brings me to mention another point — the fact that naturally the plays in school brought forth an accom- panying handicraft ■d.x\d. art of their own. Following the earlier plays, I frequently found the older bo\s drawing in their books the scenes which the\- had enacted, and this led to my giving them time and opportunity to depict what they saw or imagined while acting or looking on. Hie curious part of the resulting drawings was the fact that they showed costume and scenery as it ought to be, and not as seen in the make-believe plays. For instance, in the tournament scene taken from " Ivanhoe," the boy who drew the picture had most correctly imagined the lists of Ashby de la Zouch, because, to him, the school desks and cupboards had not existed in the play. He had drawn heroes in armor instead of his small schoolmates in corduroy. In addition to drawing, both boys and girls took a great interest in making the various articles needed in their plays, and I fancy this brought forth their ingenuity more, and had a greater educational value, than formal lessons in handicrafts — that is, for elementary-school children. It set them experimenting at any rate, and thus they found out their own weakness of method and ignorance of tech- nique. It seemed, indeed, as if dramatizing lessons touched some human interest which must express itself in every possible form of art. THE SHAKESPEAREAN PLAY 9I Another point which was brought out more particularly in connection with the Shakespearean plays, in which the children spoke the lines verbatim, was the habit of the small children of the chorus in arming themselves with copies of the play in progress, and constituting them- selves " prompters." I have seen as many as fourteen books being closely scanned by twice as many heads of little grade children, and I have then thought, " What a splendidly attentive reading class ! " What is more, I am sure they were all attentive, because, did the performers miss one single word, every child who had a book would supply the needed correction at once. One of the most suitable and successful Shakespear- ean scenes for the boys was " King Henry VI," Part II, Act IV, scene ii. The boys also attempted scenes iii and iv, and scene x. Having thus exemplified the rebellion of Jack Cade, it was natural that they should read the con- text around it, and then dovetail what they had learned with what they had played of '' King Henry V." In this way the Shakespearean play was not only valuable as a lesson in literature, but it correlated many useful branches of knowledge. The boys liked this play so well that they modeled and played Wat Tyler's rebellion on similar lines. They com- menced their play by causing two gentlemen to meet and discuss the rising in France. 92 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING Scene I First Gentleman (Squire Balderdash !) I have just heard, by a mounted messenger from Dover, that the EngUsh peasants are rising too, and are discontented with the taxes they have to pay. Second Gentleman. The king must be informed of this. First Gentleman. But the king will not listen. He is young and hot-headed ; besides, money must be raised to pay for the war with France. The peasants are headed by a man named Walter Tyler, of Essex, and they are marching to Eondon. [Xoisr of Rabble /lain/ approach- ing. A Crowd gathers round a Man, luho bigins to address then I wit J I '■ When Adam delved and Eve span, Who was then the gentleman?'"] Seconio Gentleman. Come! I to the King — you to the lord mayor ! Something must be done to prepare Eondon. [Exeunt both qjiiekly] The Preacher (John Ball). Brethren, I have come to explain to you the question of these illegal taxes. How can you pay them without money } {A Voiee. We wants better wages.) Why should you poor people be oppressed, because money is needed to pay for wars .? {Another Voiee. Those who make wars should pay for 'em — we wants trade im- proved. We wants permission to buy and sell in the mar- kets !) And if you are bound to pay taxes, why should n't you be free men and no longer serfs t {A Voiee. Yes, that 's it ! We wants land to till ; land at fourpence an acre.) THE SIIAKESPEAKEAN PLAY 93 Scene II. Dartford, Kent Men found ivofking with hoes in the field. A realistie blaeksniith' s shop is arranged zvith a desk anvil at one end. The clanging of the sledge hammers is simulated by striking an ordinary hammer on an old garden fork laid on the anvil. One corner is set apart for Wat Tyler's house, in zvhich his Daughter sits ivorking. A bell is heard ringing a7td two Collectors appear, call- ifig out, " Oyez ! Oyez ! " TJiey go to each of the Men to collect the poll tax, and carry a book in which they have entered the names of all persons above the age of fifteen yea7's. I hey demand three groats from every one of these. The Men all murmur and refer the Col- lectors to Wat Tyler, tJicir champion. They call at the house of Tyler, who declares he has no one above the age for payme7it. His Daughter appears and one of the Collectors, jeering, says, ' ' You have one, for she is over fifteen." Wat Tyler, enraged, strikes him with his smith's hammer. He falls dead. The ^^///r/' Collector escapes. The Men rally round Tyler and tJirow the body down a well (this is a brisk piece of acting), and with mucJi sJiouting detcrmijie to march to F.ondon. They decide on the terms they mean to demand : slav- ery abolished ; no tolls and taxes on trade ; land at fourpence per acre ; better Jiousifig ; no illegal taxation. Feeling that the schoolroom space was all too cramped for a march to freedom, the boys elected to march round 94 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING the playground between the scenes and arrive in London in style. This they used to do, and frequently they intro- duced funny little interludes, as, for instance, meeting with a lawyer. Wat Tyler. Ho, there! Stand! Who are you, sirrah.? Lawyer. I am a lawyer. Tyler. Can you write ? Lawyer. Indeed, I can write a court hand. Mob. He has been writing these heavy taxes on the poor. Away with him ! [He is dragged off, aiul aiiotJicr Man cntcrs\ Tyler. Come, sirrah, join our ranks. We march to freedom. Max. I am sorry, sir, 1 am not fit for so grand an armv ; besides, my wife and family need me at home. Tyler. Can you read or write 1 Man. No, sir, and I am sorry for it. Tyler. Do not be sorr\^ You are just the man for us. Fall in with us. yHic Man is pushed into a plaec and they march on'\ Scene HI Arrival in London. The seejie opens after the taking of London Bridge. Wat Tyler Jiolds a eonversation zuith his Chief Officer. {Notice hei^e how ingeniously the yoking playzvrights make the characters tell the story in the natural course of the play. They have, no doidd, eaugJit that ujiaivares from SJiakespeare s plays) THE SHAKESPEAREAN PLAY 95 Wat Tvler. Well, what news ? Did you burn the old Duke of Lancaster's palace, the Savoy ? Officer. Ay, marry, that did we ; and right well he deserved it, spending the good money and coming home from France without accomplishing anything, but losing everything. We have lost all save Calais ! Wat Tyler. Yes, indeed ! Well, I have set fire to the King's prison — the Marshalsea — and set free the pris- oners. My good boys of Kent have killed every Fleming they could find, whether in church, house, or hospital. None have escaped. Now whom shall we send as mes- sengers to the King.? Officer. We have here a schoolmaster who hath repented him of his learning. Shall we send him ? Wat Tyler. Bring him to me. Now, sirrah, hearken. You are to go to the King in the Tower and say, "Your Majesty, Wat Tyler hath business with ye, and requires to see ye ! " Mind your manners, as becometh a messenger from a great man. [Schoolmaster dows low and departs. At the extreme end of sehoolroom he enters the Tower gates {a gap between two desks) and is stopped by two Warders a?id asked his bnsi/iess. He makes low bows and persuades them to let him enter. But he has no sooner eommenced his message tJian tJie young King (Richard II), looking half amused, half angry, says, "Who admitted this man ? Be off, rough rebel ! " The Messenger returns and reports this to Wat Tyler, wJio is enraged and says, "Go back and tell him we desire to speak with 96 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING him peaceably, but if he will not meet us we shall send him messages of fire and plunder ! " \Thc Messenger once more gets past the Warders, and, on his deliveriiig his message with many awkward boii's, the King eonfej's with his Knights and Courtiers. They advise him to seem to agree with Wat Tyler and his Followers, and he promises to meet the Insur- gents on the follozving morning^ Scene I\" The Mob nnder Wat Tyler arrive from the playground to meet the young King, wJio, Jiowever, merely eomes in a barge {inveiied beneJi) dowii the Kiver Thames to speak witJi them from that poi)it of vantage. The Mob rusJi forward and attempt to reach the boat with boat hooks {map poles). J here are confused sho?its of " We want no illegal taxes ! " etc., and Wat Tyler raises the cry of "Treason ! " Again W' at Tyler scjids a Messenger, and the ¥^\^g pivmiscs to meet them in a field at Mile End] Scene V. Mile End The Mob di'awn up under Wat Tyler at one end of schoohvom. The King and his Followers, mounted, at the other. {'This gave an opportunity for ?/sing the Jiorse brasses, mentioned cai'lier in tJiis volume, on the kings prancifig "steed.'') King. S^Riding forwanl\ I am your King and Lord, good people, what will you ? 97 THE SHAKESPEAREAN PLAY 99 Wat Tyler. Your Majesty, we will that you free us and our lands forever ; that you give us leave to buy and sell in the market places ; that land shall be fourpence an acre ; and that no illegal taxes be levied. Mob. Yes, yes ! We want better houses. We will not be serfs any more. King. I grant it. Go home quietly to your houses, and I will have the charter written out and sealed. Mob. Hurrah ! Long live Richard II ! Wat Tyler. Half of you disperse to your homes. The other twenty thousand remain here with me. Captains, see to it ! Scene VI. SmitJifield Wat Tyler, vionntcd, talks in nndci'toncs ivitJi his Cap- tains. Suddenly the Klxg and his Followers ride in Wat Tyler. \Rides forivard to meet him, and takes hold of his "Horse's" hridle'\ You have broken your promise ! Where is the charter you swore to send us } William Walworth (Mayor of London). [Rides fo?-- luard, drawing his dagger {the zvooden dagger covered zvith silver paper in eardboard sheath vientioned before in this book)'] Take your hand from the King's rein, vile peasant. [Tyler sti-nggles to retain his hold of the rein. The " Horses " /r^?;/rr about. Walworth strikes Tyler zvith the dagger. He falls, groans, and dies. The Peasants rush- forward] Peasants. They have slain our leader ! Kill ! kill ! lOO THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING Kixc;. [Faces round, sJioutiiig\ What need ye, my masters ? I am your Captain and your King ! Follow me ! I will be )our leader ! [He rides toward tJie door^ faeiiig about and ivaviiig his sivord boldly. The Mob appear to ivaverfor ail instant, tJieii follow Jiim, eJieering^ The boys always finished the play by allowing " Richard " to ride out and around the playground, while they marched after him, cheering. I think the reader will at once see clearly how Shake- speare's play and his version of Jack Cade's rebellion had influenced the young playwrights in their compilation of "Wat Tyler's Rebellion." They dragged in a "lawyer" who could write a " court hand," where Shakespeare had introduced a schoolmaster. They certainly had tried to talk in the correct style of the times. For the facts and plot they read John Richard (jreen's " Readings from English History- " and Froissart's account of the events. The whole of the preparation and arrangement was their own, the bulk of the work falling on " Wat Tyler " him- self, who also impersonated Squire Balderdash in scene i, and on his chief officer, who was also John Ball, in the same scene. The chorus, of course, informed us that the young king was only sixteen years of age, and after the play told us the results of the rising. I can assure the reader that, under this most graphic kind of teaching, historical characters like those of Richard II and Wat Tyler are no longer vague, unreal figures with curious names, tiresome acts, and elusive dates. Certainly THE shakespeAkp'^AN, riliAX^' ''v ! ' • l^^3 they are real (and children love the concrete, we know !), and for this reason it is impossible that any pupil should be dull or that his brain should be inactive during such a lesson. The next Shakespearean play which they attempted was the " Merchant of Venice," beginning with the trial scene and including also scene ii, Act IV. And here I would draw attention to the fact that there are many dif- ficult lines, especially for " Portia," to be committed to memory. These small rural pupils had no difficulty in learning them /;/ a fezv days, and after that never needed prompting. Not that they were w^hat is termed " sharp at learning" ; they were learning almost involuntarily, because they were " living in the part " as it were. And that they did not shirk learning is proved by the fact that, of his own accord, "Shylock" in the play asked to be allowed to act scene iii, Act I, in spite of the great number of lines and awkwardly turned phrases it contained. Their impersonation of the various parts, far from being calculated to draw a smile (which might be expected when young children attempted to act complex characters), was earnest and interesting. "Shylock" and "Portia," on whom so much of the success of the play depended, real- ized their parts, and yet played in an original manner, be- cause the action and gesture were their own, and w^ere neither taught by an instructor nor copied from players seen previously. They had merely the text of Shakespeare to depend upon. That they read this aright was proved by the fact that in such speeches as Shylock's, commencing UQ2^ fT.H'E .Ei'R A vM A T I'C .METHOD OF TEACHING '' How like a fawning publican he looks ! " the boy im- personator used a venomous kind of undertone ; and when Bassanio enters next and Shylock has to say, " I am debating of my present store," etc., the boy changed his tone at once to a conciliatory, cringing one, although no such directions are given in the play. This play had, of course, no historical connection to teach, nor had "A Midsummer Night's Dream" nor "As You Like It," so we treated them as dramatized literature, under the general title of " English." The children's playing had reached quite a finished standard by the time they attempted scenes from " A Mid- summer Night's Dream." Their best scenes proved to be those of Act V, which depict "rude mechanics" in a Greek play. The school children seemed to grasp, at first reading, all Shakespeare's subtle burlesques and humors, and were eager to " dress " the piece properly. They gathered a huge quantity of ivy and wreathed the room, making archways of thin laths nailed together — here the "natural" handicraft once more made itself evident — and fastening ivy and boughs of greenery on to that foundation. Ingenuity showed itself when colored ribbons — "gold" — were needed to bind the stockings like san- dals. The girls actually painted white tape with the yel- low water color from, their painting palettes. Wlien dry, this answered their purposes perfectly. Afterwards, when they needed colored " ribbon " to sell by the yard while playing at arithmetic, each girl painted a piece of white tape a different color. They made Greek tunics from old THE SHAKESPEAREAN PLAY 103 cotton skirts, gathering up the waistband for a neckband, and cutting a hole at each side for the arms. These, when decorated with '' key pattern " borders of gold paper (ironed on, as described before) and accompanied by long white stockings, bound like sandals, and " gold " tape fillets around the head, gave quite a picturesque and Greek appearance to the prosaic schoolroom. The girls who had long hair turned it up all round to add to the effect. And all this was of their own in- itiative. Their " English " lesson was seasoned with the same fresh enthusiasm as their history lesson — with how little trouble on the part of cither teacher or child ! Certainly it required no more trouble or exer- tion in preparation than an ordinary game ; yet at the end what a splen- did harvest of lasting results in the wider outlook, the closer study of humanity, the enriched and strength- ened memory, the greater knowledge of the beauties of our language (caught instinctively from contact with the mind of a past master in the art of appropriate clothing of ex- pression) — and all this lasting treasure absorbed from and through a game in school ! I doubt if by any other means the children could have learned to appreciate the beauties of speech such as the alliteration contained in the following lines : ''The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, tearing I04 THE DRAMATIC METlIOJJi OF TEACHING the Thracian singer." ... " The thrice three Muses mourning for the death of learning," and "Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade, he bravely broach 'd his boiling bloody breast." These lines, which occur in "A Midsummer Night's Dream," were declaimed in a manner which brought out all their word painting ; and shortly after the play had been shown by the children to their schoolfellows the older pupils essayed to write some poetry of their own, in which we found occurring such lines as this: "Sing a song of sunshine that will suit this summer's day" — an example of alliteration which also suggested summer breezes. Again in the same poem we had, "And the leaves will fan )ou gentl\' as they rustle in the breeze." I do not think it a small matter that children should be made to understand grace of expression and a little of the way to use their own language — to avoid being tedious through using the same words over and over again from a scanty vocabulary. Only a very short time ago a member of the London County Council Education Committee was reported to have said that if a certain circular had been written in words reminiscent of the language of Milton, it would not have been understood by the people for whom it was intended. Another member described the circular as " bad grammar and bad form." A woman defended it by stating that the composition was partly her own, and that its style had been adopted as " being more likely to interest the people." If such conditions prevail among the masses, then it is high time that Shakespeare and his English became " familiar in their mouths as household THE SHAKESPEAREAN FLAY IO5 words." Surely the best grammar or composition lessons must be long drafts from the well of pure English to be found in our standard authors. Somehow we have always felt this more or less vaguely, and have tried bringing our horses to the well ; but they did not always drink, and seldom deeply. I wonder whether we grown-ups would ever have been so fond of Shakespeare's plays if we had merely read them, especially if we had been ordered to read them ! Do we not remember how and when our real, lively interest was awakened .? In how many cases was it the illuminat- ing acting and impressi\e delivery of some great Shake- spearean actor that first roused our interest ? i^rhaps afterwards we read the play over again quietly, and by association of ideas felt the same pleasurable sensations. Perhaps, also, it will not be a national waste of time if our masses learn to love Shakespeare " in the days of their youth " by such means as I have described earlier in the chapter. It means to the masses exacdy what it means to the few — an enriched vocabulary, a better-stocked mind, a more fertile imagination ; for the days when people talked in the language of Shakespeare and his compeers, and consequently thought in that language, were the days of vivid imagination, initiative, and adventure. Our empire was extended by discovery ; our trade was improved by intelligence ; our inventions were made to keep pace with the demand for greater luxury, which was the outcome of refinement of thought — refined, that is, in comparison with pre- Elizabethan times. I06 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING It may seem a sweeping statement, but is it not true that, in spite of at least more than twenty years of com- pulsory teaching of English, written and oral, the average youth confines himself to the latest catchword to express everything ? One feels that he cannot forgive an English- speaking person for neglecting the beauties of his own language — a language in which almost ever}^ word tells a history; in which is written a literature unrivaled in the world. And the only way to revive the use of correct Eng- lish is to allow children in school to speak and read it almost constantly. My own experience is, that allowing them to act a part saves them from feeling conscious of speaking or reading as a lesson, and causes them to use the words with a sense of their aesthetic beauty. My pupils involuntarily bore me out in this opinion, for they asked whether they might read a play, and, taking the various parts, chose for their first effort "As You Like It." They liked it so well that for quite a number of weeks it was always asked for on Friday afternoons, which afternoon we always set apart for sports or any subject that seemed to please the largest number. The Celia and Rosalind of the play were good friends, and, as most of the actors had their own copies of the piece, it was evi- dent that these two studied their parts together at home during the evenings. They all soon became quite expert at reading and acting at the same time, and I feel sure that this improved their reading immensely. We seldom heard a word mispronounced. On the contrary, we heard great improvement in tone of voice, inflection, and modulation. THE SHAKESPEAREAN PLAY I07 It may seem incredible, but I am certain that even the younger pupils thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated the play when they saw it acted by their schoolfellows. Of course the actors put their own original little stamps upon it. Once more they improvised costumes, using their fingers with much ingenuity. '' Audrey " was attired in an old ragged " window-curtain " skirt, with her brother's boots, many sizes too big, until on one joyful day a small boy proudly marched into school bearing a pair of real wooden shoes, in which " Audrey " clumped about to her heart's content. " Orlando," not to be behindhand, used to hang his verses on the school palm, which was always placed in the center of the "stage " to represent the Forest of Arden. '' Touchstone " wore a red flannel cap and bells, homemade of course, and " Corin " had a real shepherd's crook, borrowed from his father. By this time the reader will have realized that I did not attempt to teach stagecraft, but that my aim was rather to put this in the background ; yet our child " Rosalind," our 'Xelia," and our ''Puck" were so exceedingly good, dra- matic, and convincing in their parts that their performance really approached pure art. A great Shakespearean actor and actress who saw them waxed quite enthusiastic over their natural way of conducting themselves, and compared it with the "trained trickery" of many actors who are taught to "raise the hand here, walk so many strides there, lower the voice so, speak more slowly," and so forth. After all, " all the world 's a stage." What were all our heroes of history but men who held the center of the I08 THE DRAMATIC METHOD OF TEACHING world's stage for a time, and so acted their daily parts that they made a success of their play ? What is our own every- day demeanor but the part which we play to express our- selves, or the reverse, according as our humor dictates ? So that, left to themselves, our small pupils had only to imagine themselves the characters they represented, and they immediately comported themselves as they fancied those characters would have in the circumstances shown in the play. I have mentioned the arches of greenery used for "A Midsummer Night's Dream." These were used again for the Forest of Arden when the play was carried out in school ; but whenever possible we had the play in the open air, on the downs or under the trees in the playground. CHAPTER VI A GIRLS' PLAY THE girls were so pleased with their own successful readings of "As You Like It," that they deter- mined to write a play, as the boys had done, entirely by themselves, each character making her own speeches from whatever authority she could collect material. They chose scenes from the closing part of the life of Mary Queen of Scots, and I will copy one of the girls' manuscripts exactly as it was made. EXECUTION OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS Scene I Enter Queen Mary and Ladies in Waiting. The Queen seats herself at a table and the Ladies sit grouped at needleiv