Lexington: Birthplace of American Liberty, by Sidney Howard

June 15—President’s Night
In Honor of the President of the United States.

June 16—Governors’ Night
In Honor of the Governors of the Thirteen Original States.

June 17—Bunker Hill Night
In Memory of the Patriots who fought at Bunker Hill.

June 18—College Night
In Honor of the visiting Alumni of the New England Colleges.

June 19—Historical Night
In Honor of the Historical Societies of America.

June 20—Military Night
In Memory of the sons of Lexington who have fallen in the service of their country.

Edward C. Stone, President
Waldo F. Glidden, Vice-President
Edward W. Kimball, Vice-President
Edwin B. Worthen, Treasurer
Daniel B. Lewis, Auditor

Fletcher W. Taft
Director of Publicity

Willard D. Brown
Chairman of Construction

Sheldon A. Robinson
Chairman, Grounds Committee

David Hennessy
Superintendent Amphitheatre

Founded upon Great Sayings
To be Acted in Dumb Show

COMPILED AND, IN PART, WRITTEN BY
Sidney Howard

For the Celebration of the
One Hundred and Fiftieth Anniversary
of the Battle of Lexington
April 19th, 1775

Stage Manager
Waldo F. Glidden

Musical Director
Charles Repper

Director of Chorus
Clarence E. Briggs

THE aim of this play is to represent the impulse and the progress of civil liberty in this country since the commencement of the War for Independence. The intention is never literal. In spite of a certain actuality in the presentation of the incidents of “The Glorious Morning” at Lexington, the play must always be considered and produced as an abstraction of the events with which it is concerned.

The events themselves are marked by the great sayings of our prophets of liberty and of sundry other minds of genius, all quite arbitrarily selected. Great sayings, through their immense significance to the popular imagination, become symbols of the periods which occasioned them. Great activities may, in the same sense, be looked upon as abstractions of the periods and movements which required them and made them possible.

The great activities of the story of American civil liberty are here treated in a kind of processional dumb show which amplifies the quotations placed in the mouths of the two Spokesmen, the Choir of speakers and the characters in the play. When the dumb show is not executed in procession, it devolves upon groups which act collectively as a single individual and, on certain occasions, speak in unison.

Comment upon the action is supplied by a few lines which have been written for the roles of the Chronicler and Freedom and for the Chorus of singers.

[15]The play demands an almost continual musical accompaniment. This should be composed upon the foundation of period songs, particularly those which are indicated in the text. Also, the various speeches of the Spokesmen will be enhanced if the composer musically emphasizes their rhythms with some sort of accompaniment. In the opinion of the author, the score will be most effectively scored for brass and wind instruments. The chorus must be a male chorus. The play will suffer, always, for the introduction of any woman’s voice except as indicated in the text.

The action is continuous; its changes of locale and atmosphere being indicated only by shifting emphases in the lighting.

The acting presents no difficulty beyond that of securing actors with good voices who have troubled to learn how to speak the English language.

Think of the place in which the play is to be produced, just as it has been adapted from the natural forest. Think of the curving sleeve of water which lies along the lowermost edge of the scene, of the rising slopes and levels which surmount one another so spaciously, of the trees which close in back and sides.

Then, into the face of the slope immediately above the water’s edge and directly in the center, set a simple low throne and put a conventional lectern before it. Flank this with two lower seats, even more simple. Build this whole group as gracefully and as lightly as the best taste of the best Georgian period dictates and paint it the purest white.

This done, go to the extreme limits of the front of the scene and, just at the edge of the trees, erect two pedestals. These, in height, must a little more than top a man’s stature. In style and decoration they are as chaste as the central group. Probably they are finished with an exquisite cornice and adorned with garlands in low relief, just brushed with gold. Upon each one of them set a solid, simple throne, quite like the one you have already put in the center.

The Chronicler sits on the central throne. He is already in his place when the doors of the auditorium are opened to admit the first spectator. So are the two Drummers who occupy the low seats on either side of him. So are the two Spokesmen who sit atop the two pedestals.

For the Chronicler’s role an actor of fine Anglo-Saxon type must be engaged, one able to speak English with beautiful and natural precision. The same is true of the roles of the two Spokesmen.

The Chronicler wears buff breeches, a white shirt and a blue coat which hangs nobly from his shoulders and spreads over the arms of his seat. His hair, of a natural brown, is pulled back from his brow and tied with a black velvet[20] ribbon. The lectern before him supports a great book. At the commencement of the play he opens this book and, at the end, he closes it. From time to time, during the action, he writes in it, using a large and snowy-white quill pen.

The Drummers who sit on either side of him are dressed in scarlet and as alike as two peas, in costume, make up and cut of hair. Neither one of them has ever any occasion to speak. Each one of them must devote his attention wholly to playing upon a great kettledrum which will be provided for this purpose. The two drums are tuned a diminished third apart.

The two Spokesmen will wear the scarlet robes and white wigs of British justices. They never move during the entire play.

All of these five persons, it must be repeated, will be in their places when the auditorium opens. None of them can be allowed to move until the auditorium has emptied. They must think of themselves as parts of the fixed scene.

Behind them, the slope flattens slightly and this area will, hereinafter, be described as the “Forestage.” Behind that, again, comes a second, slighter rise and that is succeeded by a much more considerable level place. This second level will hereinafter be spoken of as the “Stage.”

The stage is set to represent the Common of Lexington in the year 1775. The road from Cambridge and Boston enters at the back center and divides, passing the Meeting House on either side. The Meeting House is erected, full size, just at the back of the stage and directly in the center, thus masking this road. A little down on the right (in these stage directions right and left refer to the hands of the audience) stands the Old Belfry. Further over to the right, half buried in the trees, are the old horse sheds. Further down stage on the right stands the Marrett-Munroe House, also half buried in foliage, and the Concord Road leaves the Common as far down stage on the right as the planting permits. On the left, just a little below the position occupied on the right by the horse sheds, stands the Buckman Tavern. Then, all the way down stage left stands the Parsonage of the Rev. Jonas Clark. This[21] should be set a little apart from the Common to suggest its remoteness. A road leads past this in the direction of Bedford.

These entrances will hereinafter be referred to as the Boston, Concord and Bedford Roads respectively. Other village paths may be supposed to lead on to the Common at any convenient points.

When the first member of the audience enters, it is twilight. He finds the life of the village going on with full realism of detail except that it is in no wise audible. He is looking at a soundless vision of the eighteenth day of April, one hundred and fifty years ago. Villagers are chatting about the doorway of the Buckman Tavern. They come in and go out. They wear long coats and smoke long pipes and drink long drinks. Some of them discuss a newspaper excitedly. What they are saying cannot be heard, for they play entirely in dumb show. A century and a half is too great a time to be bridged easily by sound.

Silent as the rest a boy guards a flock of a few sheep in the center of the Common. Young girls, going about pleasure or business and quite free from any preoccupation with the serious matters which engross the tavern’s patrons, stop to chat with him.

Presently a young farmer drives his cows in from pasture. Presently other farmers return from the fields, carrying the crude agricultural implements of their day. Presently another farmer drives his emptied truck wagon home from market.

Presently a traveler on a jaded mare comes up the Boston Road and halts by the Buckman Tavern. The citizens gather about him greedily. Greedy, it would seem, for news. And he gives them news before he has finished his ale and ridden on down the Bedford Road.

As the play’s commencement draws near, an old man comes out of the Meeting House. The children, playing about the Belfry, run into him and he admonishes them. Then he rings the bell. At first one cannot be quite sure of the bell. Then the spell becomes stronger and it does clang dimly through.

[The Chronicler opens his book and begins to write.

In the far distance, a bugler blows “Assembly.”

For the first time, the Chronicler lifts his head and looks at the audience.

Just a little nearer than the bugle some horns play “Yankee Doodle.”

In the darkling tavern faint voices of men take up the chorus.

A very little light shines upon the Chronicler’s figure. He rises and lifts his right hand.

The Drummers play a long roll.

Then the Chronicler speaks.]

In the Book of American Freedom it has been written that the Town of Lexington, in the County of Middlesex, in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, shall be designated as “The Birthplace of American Liberty.” This, says the book, is a fitting designation because the events which had their scene in Lexington on the glorious morning of the nineteenth of April one hundred and fifty years ago this year did forever mark and set aside the town to be a symbol of liberty to all free nations and all free peoples.

You brave, heroic minds,
Worthy your country’s name,
That honor still pursue;
Go and subdue!
Whilst loitering hinds
Lurk here at home with shame.

And in regions far,
Such heroes bring ye forth
As those from whom we came;
And plant our name
Under that star
Not known unto our north.

The world is all so changed; so much that seemed vigorous has sunk decrepit, so much that was not is beginning to be!

Borne over the Atlantic what sounds are these; muffled-ominous, new in our centuries?

[The drums roll out. The lights die down on the Spokesmen. In the meanwhile, answering the summons of the bell ringer, the people of Lexington have come out of street and tavern in the twilight and gathered about the Meeting House steps.

Jonas Clark has gone to them to stand upon the steps facing them. He is now in his forty-fifth year, a vigorous, lean, eager man with a spirit of gripping and convincing sincerity.

At the conclusion of the words of the Spokesmen, all of the villagers are gathered together about their pastor, save one girl. She is distinguished from her sisters of the village, less by her dress (which is commonplace enough) than by a strange and wild loveliness and by a deep absorption in her own thoughts. She is tall and very beautiful and a prophetic intensity possesses her.

Led by their pastor, the people about the Meeting House lift their voices in the fifty-ninth Psalm.]

Deliver me from mine enemies, O my God: set me on high from those that rise up against me. Deliver me from the workers of iniquity, and save me from the blood-thirsty men.

For, lo, they lie in wait for my soul; the mighty gather themselves together against me: not for my transgression, nor for my sin, O Lord; they run and prepare themselves without my fault.

For the sin of their mouth and the words of their lips, let them even be taken in their pride, and for cursing and lying which they speak.

Yea, I will sing aloud of thy mercy in the morning, for thou hast been my high tower, and a refuge in the day of my distress.

Unto thee, O my Strength, will I sing praises, for God is my high tower, the God of my mercy.

Write more, write more, you Chronicler!
Write how the roots
Stir in the ground!
Write how the sap
Stirs in the trees!
Write how the thaw
Gives breath of life!
And write how God
Peers through the firmament
Upon the continents; for this day is glory!

It has come now to our turn, Americans, to see what we can do. The indignant spirit of self-government which inspired our ancestors is now pronounced by the Lords and Commons of England to be a spirit of rebellion. The colonies hesitate not a moment, but unite and greatly dare to be free. God who sitteth upon the throne of his holiness, the governor among nations, will know our cause and uphold our right to freedom. Let us pray.

O Lord, when dangers surround us and oppressors threaten our rights and enemies invade our homes, we, thy people, look to thee, O Lord, for our refuge and, committing our cause to thy wisdom and justice, we do humbly expect, O Lord, that light will arise in darkness, that the power of the oppressor may be broken, that our enemies will not prevail against us, that our God will maintain our right. Amen.

A government against which a claim of freedom is tantamount to high treason is a government to which submission is equivalent to slavery.

The people of the colonies are the descendants of Englishmen and therefore love liberty according to English ideas and on English principles.

Men may be as sorely touched and as deeply grieved in their privileges as in their purses; men may lose little in property by the act which takes away all their freedom.

To prove that Americans ought not to be free we are obliged to depreciate the value of freedom itself.

“An Englishman is the unfittest person on earth to argue another Englishman into slavery.”

Isaac Blodgett ... Ebenezer Bowman ... Francis Bowman ... John Bridge ... Joseph Bridge ... James Brown ... John Brown ... Solomon Brown ... John Buckman ... Eli Burdoo ...

[The light of very early morning shows the Company drawn up diagonally across the scene in attitudes of attention. Captain John Parker stands in thought a little apart. Parson Clark looks down upon the people from the Meeting House. The men and women of the town hover on the outskirts of the scene.

The kettledrums drown the Sergeant’s voice. Music bursts forth, a crashing theme which can be divided by the demands of the subsequent dialogue and by rolling of the kettledrums.

[29]

The greatest possible amount of light blazes upon the Meeting House door. Thence, like a comet, Freedom comes. She is robed now in a cloak of flame and a scarlet cap of liberty crowns her. Perhaps the drums continue, perhaps the theme of triumph modulates softly beneath her shouted words.]

Soldiers of Liberty,
Make your arms strong!
Make your hearts stout!
Make your souls great!

Breathe with my breath!
Strike with my sword!
Bleed with my blood!
Be life!
Be love!
Be sacrifice!
Be death!

I bid you stand!
I bid you strike!
I bid you die!
Take me!
Believe me!
Obey me!
Adore me!
I am come to lead you,
Soldiers of Liberty!
I am come to lead you forever.

You will see now, in one incalculable and everlasting instant, the nativity of a nation. The night of watching passes and the day dawns that is glory.

Those of you who are equipped, stand fast. Those of you who lack equipment, go into the Meeting House and supply yourselves. Then come back to your places.

William Diamond, let me hear your drum. Jonathan Harrington, where is your fife?

Stand your ground. Don’t fire unless you’re fired upon. But if they mean to have a war, let it begin here!

[The second platoon fires.

Then everything happens at once. The music crashes out a theme which terminates in a high tremolo. Pitcairn is seen to signal cease firing with his sword. The Minute Men break, all but Jonathan Parker who has been wounded by the volley of the second platoon and sinks to his knees trying to reload his gun. Jonathan Harrington, wounded, runs down stage left where his wife is cowering in the corner and there dies in her arms. Two of the Minute Men overpower Parker and drag him off. Robert Munroe, wounded, falls and dies beside the horse sheds. Solomon Brown, firing from the Buckman Tavern, is silenced by a volley fired toward the tavern and continues shooting from the trees. The three escape fighting from the Meeting House. The British clear the Common, bayonetting Jonas Parker as they go.

Then it is over.]

We shall have further to go than Concord before this morning’s work is finished. Fall in!

“Then Samuel took a stone and set it between Mispeh and Shen, where the battle was fought, and called the name of it Ebenezer, saying: ‘Hitherto hath the Lord helped us!’”

Lexington has been allotted by providence to meet the first blow, to offer the first sacrifice. Thus far hath the Lord helped us.

As to what is still before us, we do not anxiously inquire nor proudly prophesy. Our cause is just.

That is true. Carry the dead into God’s house. Blessed be the name of the Lord!

O Lord, who wert our free-born fathers’ Guide,
Judge us for our unalterable intent;
Govern us, God, with Thy still government,
Telling our fathers how their sons have died.

[He sits and Minute Men come up the Bedford Road. They are armed. They cross the stage in groups of three to twelve and go out by the Concord Road. The music quickens once more. The light is the most brilliant of full afternoon.

People come out of the houses and the paths and peer excitedly up the Concord Road. Scattered shots begin to be audible from that direction. The knots of people point in triumphant excitement up the road. Suddenly they withdraw, scattering in excited confusion. Shouts and shots sound nearer and closer together. Then the British, routed and retreating from Concord, surge through the Common and out behind the Meeting House and there are shots, too, from there. The huzzas of the colonists all but drown the shouts and musketry. About the Meeting House a cloud rises that may be dust but is presently seen to be steam. The stage darkens. Only the wild music and the shoutings continue and, in the midst of the steam curtain, Freedom, more gorgeous than ever, shouts louder than the rest, her arms madly lifted to heaven. The steam is many colored, then it dies to the single figure. Then it is darkness and the music falls with it. Then the steam is gone and the Meeting House with it and the Buckman Tavern and all other evidences of Lexington Common are gone and in their place is a new scene altogether.]

[It is a long garden stair which we are shown, a stair suggested by some of the planting we have already seen but which begins its Georgian graciousness just where the Meeting House stood a moment since. It rises in shallow steps broken by broad levels, three of them, if possible, and on each of the levels, a bench, very simple and dignified. These levels will hereinafter be referred to as the first, second and third landings. The third is a long terrace, lined, in its central portion, by a chaste and lovely balustrade which extends to a planting of delicately trimmed shrubbery. The whole scene has the look of some exquisite New England garden of the eighteenth century.

The musical accompaniment of this revelation is serenity itself. Freedom stands on the lowermost step of the stair. She wears more than ever gorgeous raiment. She stands there as though she paused in her ascent to look back into the audience. On either side of the stair, the Choir of speakers is banked, thirty-two in all, dressed pictorially, yet not so brightly as to distract the eye from the action of the play.]

Look that you curb us not,
My men and I;
For present liberties enslave tomorrow,
And present triumphs shackle future years.
We see no limit set upon our purpose
Short of the Godhead ... so, restrain us not.
Be it here sworn:
These dead of Lexington
Have not vainly died,
These living
Have not vainly dreamed.

Appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts! There is no peace! Our brethren are already in the field!

Oh, ye that love mankind, stand forth! Oh, ye that dare oppose the tyranny and the tyrant, stand forth!

Is life so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God!

Freedom hath been hunted round the globe. England hath given her warning to depart. Oh, receive the fugitive and prepare, in time, an asylum for mankind!

An hour, a destiny,
And the need of man
For leadership, these three
God answers perfectly;
And, in the tumult and the darkness, lo,
A hero comes
So solemnly,
And the shoutings die and the drums
Are still and the van
Of battle takes its leader so,
And the race, its guardian,
And none has been more greatly strong than he
In resolution and humility.

We, reposing special trust and confidence in your patriotism, valor, conduct and fidelity, do, by these presents, constitute and appoint you to be general and commander-in-chief of the army of the United Colonies and of all the forces now raised or to be raised by them for the defense of American Liberty.

I beg it may be remembered that I this day declare with utmost sincerity I do not think myself equal to the command I am honored with. But, as it has been a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon this service, I shall hope that my undertaking it is designed to answer some good purpose.

[He accepts the sword. A great sigh comes like a hope from all around.

A roll of snare drums far away and the groupings shift so that Washington and Freedom stand alone together and the others draw aside. Drum rhythms succeed one another until they resolve into two themes. The one, played by the kettledrums, follows the syncopation of the Spokesmen’s words. The other, played by the[41] snare drums, marks the time of a march. To this accompaniment, the Continental Army comes upon the scene. First, the farmers who have left their ploughs to join Warren for Bunker Hill. Then the tatterdemalion army of which Washington took command for the siege of Boston. Then the mob takes on form and appearance and order such as it must have had to accomplish Burgoyne’s defeat, and the retreat through Jersey. At the same time the Choir has begun to intone the Declaration of Independence. The two Spokesmen listen and take up their shouted responses. And the intoning runs rhythmically, following the accents of the kettledrums which, in their turn, follow the accents of Jefferson’s prose.]

When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another....

And to assume among the powers of the earth the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature’s God entitle them....

And to institute new government to provide new guards for their future security.

Appealing to the supreme judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions....

That these United States are and of right ought to be free and independent states....

The soul of an event is the vision which God sets before its hero; its life hangs upon the faith men bring to it. The heroes of God’s choosing make Him manifest to man; but the faith of man is a wretched thing. Now this event fares mournfully, for the army of revolt is more cruelly driven by the doubts and jealousies of man than by the winds and snows of winter, and the meaning of Freedom is forgotten in the fact of hardship. Within himself and his great enterprise the chieftain stands steadfast, concerned only with the omen and the pity of the time.

Lessons of war from him we take
And manly weapons learn to wield;
Strong bows of steel with ease we break,
Forced by our stronger arms to yield.
’Tis God that still supports our right,
His just revenge our foes pursues;
’Tis He, that, with resistless might,
Fierce nations to His power subdues.

What is to become of the army this winter? We are barefoot and naked. Soldiers are not made of sticks and stones to occupy a cold, bleak hill and sleep under frost and snow without clothes or blankets. Unless some great and capital change takes place, this army must inevitably starve, dissolve or disperse. From my soul I pity these miseries which it is not in my power to relieve or prevent.

I have cried out your name to the broad heavens,
I have given your courage to the stars to shout.
Be of good cheer, my leader,
The strong and the young have heard and will give answer,
The day is not yet lost.

How differently fare the enemies of Freedom! In Philadelphia where the British are, is a time of plenty and of high festival.

[There is music, suddenly and very bright and as the light floods the scene, two British soldiers have run in with regimental colors which conceal Freedom and Washington and the stair from our view. Then a gay crowd troops on to the stage and a double column of grenadiers in scarlet coats. The soldiers quickly form the three sides of a rectangle and General Howe and Major Andre ride into their midst. Ladies are there, richly clad and elaborately coiffured. Musicians are there with huge bass viols and sundry eccentric instruments of the period. When all the crowd are assembled, General Howe and Major Andre ride down to the water’s edge to welcome two barges. In one of them is the English Queen of Beauty and, in the other, the American Queen of Beauty. Each of the queens is attended by a bevy of damsels in Turkish costumes. General Howe leads the English Queen to her throne. Major Andre performs the same function for the American Queen. The damsels follow them and the barges are pulled away out of sight.

Immediately the two queens have been enthroned, twelve knights ride into the scene, dressed in eighteenth century adaptations of the habiliments of chivalry. They divide into two parties, the Knights of the Blended Rose and the Knights of the Burning Mountain. Each party salutes its queen and the mock tournament is played out, terminating in an exchange of pistol fire without casualties. Then the horses are led off and the[46] knights and the ladies all join in a brilliant, stately dance which ends in a picture centering in the two queens, each one of whom has removed a slipper from which her particular knight is drinking wine.

Then the rout is scattered by the sound of cannon and all the gay folk run screaming and darkness gathers except for a single ray of light which strikes across the stage. Into this a horseman gallops frantically.]

Chaos succeeds revolt and triumph gives way to greed and hatred and what was harmony in war becomes jealousy and faction, for the faith of the people is dead and the united colonies break asunder, each one for itself.

[Loyalists are singled out, perhaps, and stoned and jostled from the scene. Cheers become snarls. The multitude separates into small units, thirteen of them. These seem to wrangle among themselves, then, like so many socks, to turn inside out so that each menaces the other. The light over the multitude is murky. The music subsides to a low, ominous sound.

All this time Washington has stood imperturbably upon the stair, looking grimly down with the eloquence and understanding of a great fatalism. Freedom, however, is amazed. She wrings her hands in despair. She cries out in anguish.]

Upon the human tempest descends, once more, the calm of leadership. A marvelous boy emerges. The word is Hamilton’s.

There is something noble and magnificent in the perspective of a great Federal Republic.... There is something proportionally diminutive and contemptible in the prospect of petty states with the appearance only of union.

Happy America, if those to whom thou hast entrusted the guardianship of thy infancy know how to provide for thy future repose!

Miserable and undone if their negligence or ignorance permits the spirit of discord to erect her banner on the ruins of your tranquillity!

Will you hear me, People?
I understand you, People, as none other can,
I serve you, People, as none other can;
I tell you, here is your proving time.
I bid you cast envy out from your hearts.
For none will work you injustice, now, save only yourselves,
And no folly will lead you astray now, but your own folly,
Therefore, bestir you, People!
You may not deny your leaders or your cause or me!
You cannot, People, for we are your life!

Here, my countrymen, let us make a firm stand for our safety, our tranquillity, our dignity, our reputation. It belongs to us to vindicate the honor of the human race. Union will enable us to do it.... The necessity of a constitution is imminent. A nation without a national government is an awful spectacle. Why, then, do you hesitate? The fabric of American empire ought to rest on the solid basis of the consent of the people. The stream of national power ought to flow immediately from that pure original fountain of all legitimate authority. Let the thirteen states, bound together in an indissoluble union, concur in erecting one great American system, consecrated to the steady administration of the laws, dedicated to the protection of liberty against the enterprises and assaults of ambition, of faction, of anarchy, able to dictate the terms of connection between the old world and the new!

No law respecting an established religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble and to petition the government for a redress of grievance.

We here highly resolve that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.

[Then the music bursts forth again and the first president is inaugurated. The scene is best described in the words of Lear’s diary. “All the churches in the city were opened and prayers offered up to the Great Ruler of the Universe for the preservation of the President. The troops of the city paraded.... The procession moved forward, the troops marching in front with all the ensigns of military parade. Next came the committees and heads of departments in their carriages, the foreign ministers and a long train of citizens.... About two hundred yards before we reached the hall we descended from our carriages and passed through the troops who were drawn up on either side, into the hall and the Senate Chamber where we found the Vice-President and the House of Representatives assembled. They received the President in a most respectful manner and the Vice-President conducted him to a balcony. The oath was administered in public by Chancellor Livingstone who proclaimed him President of the United States.”]

My station is new. I walk on untrodden ground. With God’s help, I readily engage with you in the task of making a nation happy.

The eight years of administration pass. The faith of the people again grows cold. New voices speak flattery and falsehood and sow the seed of disaster to come. But the leaders are steadfast, always, and, even in farewell, the end of their leadership is wisdom.

The time has come for me to return to retirement. Choice and prudence invite me to quit the scene. But a solicitude for your welfare which cannot end but with my life prompts me to offer to your solemn contemplation some sentiments which appear to me all important to the permanency of your felicity as a people.

The power and right to establish government presuppose the duty to obey government. Providence connects the permanent felicity of a nation with its virtue. Avoid the necessity of overgrown military establishments! Be warned against the baneful effects of the spirit of party! Promote institutions for the general diffusion of knowledge. Observe good faith and justice toward all nations. Cultivate peace and harmony with all. It is folly for one nation to look for disinterested favors from another. It is our true policy to steer clear of permanent alliances with any portion of the foreign world.

I shall carry with me the hope that my country will never cease to view my errors with indulgence and that, after forty-five years of my life dedicated to its service with an upright zeal, the faults of incompetent abilities will be consigned to oblivion as myself must soon be to the mansions of rest.

Ever and ever more,
Under the western stars,
Over the western lands,
My leaders,
Your names,
Your words,
Your dreams!

The nation being established conceives the empire. The race, born of the romance of empire and nourished upon the adventure of freedom, turns to the wilderness.

Beyond these eastern mountains, the adventure of freedom is resumed, and the romance of empire lives anew!

[Freedom turns at the shout and the music begins a soft, wild march theme. Suddenly possessed again, Freedom evokes the Western migration. As she begins to speak the first of it begins: a few timorous stragglers who appear from the trees at the left of the stage and peer up at her. Her gestures sweep them across the scene and they come, stopping here and there to build their camp fires. At the end of her harangue, five or six groups have spaced themselves along the line of the forestage, and from each group and its camp fire rises a thin column of smoke so that the varied and splendid processional of adventure which is to come will be seen behind this delicate colonnade.]

Out of the east,
Into the west,
A vision of empire, my people,[55]
A vision of rivers and prairies,
Of western mountains and a western ocean.
And of a wider Freedom!
New cities sleep unborn
On the shores of the lakes and the rivers,
Cities to be erected
In a loftier image of Freedom,
Cities, whence new generations,
Forgetful of all save courage,
Shall in their turn set out
Into further western regions,
Building cities and cities,
Building always for Freedom,
Building, renewing, creating....
Westward, westward, and westward,
Over the walls of the mountains,
Over the blight of the desert,
To the urgent, star-scattered horizon,
Where the stars and the sun and the moon
Rise into the wind and the heavens,
Out of the western ocean,
Out of the west and the east,
People, my people, set forward,
For Freedom! For Freedom! For Freedom!

[With this, the musical accompaniment to Freedom’s words resolves itself into a triumphal march and the full bulk of the procession appears crossing from left to right of the stage. First are small wagons, so light you might almost carry them, as Birkbeck said of them, “yet strong enough to bear a good load of bedding, utensils and provisions and a swarm of young citizens.” Others have two horses and, sometimes, a cow or[56] so. Other wagons are covered with canvas and blankets. There are Conestoga wagons and prairie schooners with herds of stock and sheep and the crowd of emigrants is gaily dressed as any gang of gipsies, red-shirted men, blue and yellow-skirted women, bright clothes for the children and bright blankets. And a great light grows up on the right of the stage into which this procession moves and all the while the circuit riders and hunters scatter through the crowd on their respective, mimed businesses. At the same time, shouting over the music, the two Spokesmen and the Choir have maintained a steady crescendo comment from the “Pioneers, O Pioneers!” of Walt Whitman.]

Come, my tan-faced children,
Follow well in order, get your weapons ready,
Have you your pistols, have you your sharp-edged axes?
Pioneers!

Have the elder races halted?
Do they droop and end their lesson wearied over there beyond the seas?
We take up the task eternal and the burden and the lesson,
Pioneers!

All the past we leave behind,
We debouch upon a newer, mightier world, varied world,
Fresh and strong the world we seize, world of labor and the march,[57]
Pioneers!

We detachments steady throwing,
Down the edges, through the passes, up the mountains steep,
Conquering, holding, daring, venturing as we go the unknown ways,
Pioneers!

We primeval forests felling,
We the rivers stemming, vexing we and piercing the deep mines within,
We the surface broad surveying, we the virgin soil upheaving,
Pioneers!

All the pulses of the world,
Falling in they beat for us, with the Western movement beat,
Holding single or together, steady moving to the front, all for us,
Pioneers!

Has the night descended?
Was the road of late so toilsome? Did we stop discouraged, nodding on our way?
Yet a passing hour I yield you in your tracks to pause oblivious,
Pioneers!

Till with sound of trumpet,
Far, far off the daybreak call—hark! how loud I hear it wind,
Swift! to the head of the army!—swift! spring to your places,
Pioneers!

[At the final shout of the Choir, the western light turns suddenly bloody and the procession hurries off into murk and portent. At the same time a new light breaks over the forestage upon a sinister line of men which has come in between the thrones of the two Spokesmen.

These men are negroes, naked, save for loin cloths and girdles, twenty-one in number, and all singers. The hands of each one are chained to the girdle of the one behind and they move up the slope toward Freedom in a slow, melancholy “V.”

As they move, they sing. Their song should, indeed, have scattered the echoes of the farewell acclamation of the pioneers. The strain of it is despair that takes refuge in worship. It is one of the old spirituals, “Go Down Moses.” They[59] move, singing, up to Freedom and she comes sorrowfully down to meet them and the Chronicler rises.

As the negroes finish their song, they kneel at Freedom’s feet and she bends over them.]

The trial of the race comes with the attainment of its empire.
In the west the factions meet already and the issue is the slave.

I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this land will never be purged away but with blood. For God has given the strength of the hills to Freedom. No man sent me here. I acknowledge no master in human form. I pity the poor in bondage that have none to help them. That is why I am here. You may dispose of me very easily. I am nearly disposed of now. But this negro question is still to be settled. The end of that is not yet. I am ready. Do not keep me waiting. In no other possible way could I be used to so much advantage to the cause of God and of humanity.

In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, and[61] not in mine is the momentous issue of civil war. The government will not assail you. You can have no conflict without being yourselves the aggressors. You have no oath registered in heaven to destroy the government, while I shall have the most solemn one to preserve, protect and defend it.

I would save the Union.... If there be those who would not save the Union unless they could, at the same time, save slavery, I do not agree with them. If there be those who would not save the Union unless they could, at the same time, destroy slavery, I do not agree with them. If I could save the Union without freeing any slave, I would do it; and if I could save it by freeing all the slaves, I would do it; and if I could save it by freeing some and leaving others alone, I would also do that.

The strain comes and men’s wits break under it and fighting is the only way out.

War is the anger of bewildered peoples in front of questions that they can’t answer.

One year ... two ... three ... perhaps four! Then there will be just graves and a story and America.

All persons held as slaves are and, henceforward, shall be free. And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind and the gracious favor of Almighty God.

You allow our officers to keep their horses. That is gracious. Our cavalry troopers’ horses are also their own.

I understand. They will be needed for the plowing. Of course, the officers of the Confederacy will also retain their side arms.

I thank you. It will do much toward conciliating our people. I accept your terms.

Valor and devotion can accomplish nothing that will[64] compensate for the loss that must attend the continuance of the conflict. You may take with you the satisfaction of duty faithfully performed, and I earnestly pray that a merciful God will extend to you his blessing and protection.

All that it was possible for men to do in battle they have done. Let us hope for perpetual peace and harmony with that enemy whose manhood, however mistaken the cause, drew forth such Herculean deeds of valor.

With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right; let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphan—to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.

This dust was once the man,
Gentle, plain, just and resolute, under whose cautious hand,
Against the foulest crime in history known in any land or age,
Was saved the Union of these States.

[Gradually, during these lines, a cold light has spread over the mourning multitude. Every vestige of war is gone. The people stand with drooping heads facing the stair, every hand holding a spray of lilac. The freed negroes kneel about the lower steps. A funeral march, gentle as a song of spring, begins. Men lift up the bier and carry it up the steps to the second landing. Freedom leads the cortege; the girls come after. The crowd closes in. At the second landing, the bier is set down and all the people go past it, filing out into the darkness which closes in again upon either side. In the meanwhile, over the music, Freedom and the two Spokesmen speak from Walt Whitman’s great song of mourning.]

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d,
And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,
I mourned and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
O powerful western fallen star![66]
O shades of night—O moody, tearful night!
O great star disappear’d—O the black murk that hides the star!
O cruel hands that hold me powerless—O helpless soul of me!
O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul.

Over the breast of the spring, the land, amid cities,
Amid lanes and through old woods, where lately the violets peep’d from the ground, spotting the gray debris,
Amid the grass in the fields each side of the lanes, passing the endless grass,
Passing the yellow spear’d wheat, every grain from its shroud in the dark-brown fields uprisen.
Passing the apple tree blows of white and pink in the orchards,
Carrying a corpse to where it shall rest in the grave,
Night and day journeys a coffin.

Coffin that passes through lanes and streets,
Through day and night with the great cloud darkening the land,
With the pomp of the inloop’d flags, with the cities draped in black,
With the show of the states themselves as of crape-veil’d women standing,
With processions long and winding and the flambeaus of the night,
With the countless torches lit, with the silent sea of faces and unbared heads....
Here, coffin that slowly passes,
I give you my sprig of lilac.

From the deep secluded recesses,
From the fragrant cedars and the ghostly pines so still,
Came the carol of a bird.

Come lovely and soothing death,
Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving,
In the day, in the night, to all, to each,
Sooner or later, delicate death.

Prais’d be the fathomless universe,
For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious,
And for love, sweet love—but praise! praise! praise!
For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding death.

The night in silence under many a star,
The ocean shore and the husky whispering wave whose voice I know,
And the soul turning to thee, O base and well-veil’d death,
And the body gratefully nestling close to thee.

Over the tree tops I float thee a song,
Over the rising and sinking waves and the myriad fields and the prairies wide,
Over the dense pack’d cities all and the teeming wharves and ways,
I float this carol with joy, with joy to thee, O death.

Loud in the pines and cedars dim,
Clear in the freshness moist and the swamp-perfume,
And I with my comrades there in the night.

Comrades mine and I in the midst, and their memory ever to keep, for the dead I loved so well,
For the sweetest, wisest soul of all my days and lands—and this for his dear sake,
Lilac and star and bird twined with the chant of my soul,
There in the fragrant pines and the cedars dusk and dim.

That government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.

Death that takes Lincoln spares him the disillusion and the time of waste that comes after him. The face of Freedom is covered and she turns her gaze away from the land.

Allons! Through struggles and wars!
The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.

[The beginnings of light upon the scene show Freedom weeping upon her balustrade, alone on the stair between the two halves of the Choir.

In the distance the Chorus begins to sing that great chantey of American labor, “I’ve been working on the Railroad.”

At the back of the stage, just below the beginning of the stair, is a pathway of light into which, from either side of the scene, come single lines of men who bear upon their shoulders rails and ties. Across the stage they build the transcontinental railroad, forming sculptural and beautiful groups as they bend over the joints of the rails and swing their sledges. When the task is completed, the headlights of engines shine along the lines.

[70]

Whereupon two wedges of laborers emerge from the sides of the scene, lower down on the incline of the stage and stand in pools of flame. That on the right is the group of steel workers. That on the left is the group of coal miners.

Whereupon, still lower down stage, two other wedges emerge, similarly dressed and lighted. They are the groups of farmers and of builders. Whereupon the forestage is filled with women and children of a most sorrowful and wretched aspect and with little old men, poorly dressed and meek of manner.

All of this movement has been executed to the great march of labor which is built upon the theme of “I’ve been working on the Railroad.” The band has taken it up from the Chorus and woven it into a minor dirge and into bizarre dissonances and elaborated it with syncopations and new themes played upon strange instruments and sung by the voices of the Chorus so that the whole thing is at once triumphal and macabre. It rises to magnificent climaxes and subsides again so that the speakers, the crowds, the Choir and the Spokesmen may be clearly audible.

At the same time the Spokesmen and the Choir speak antiphonally against the action and complete the prophecy of Walt Whitman.]

Shipyards and drydocks along the eastern and western seas and in many a bay and by-place!

In the labor of engines and trades and the labor of fields I find the developments
And find the eternal meanings....

O Freedom, in your name,
We have built a railroad across a continent
And linked the east and the west with strips of steel;
We have worked, Freedom, for the empire which is yours,
For that which is not yours is nothing.

Steel! Steel! Steel!
Flame and smoke and blood!
We have pounded with our fists, Freedom,
And forged with our hearts,
And our bodies have fed the furnaces,
That your empire, Freedom, might endure in steel
Over the land and upon the seas.

Though we died in the depths of the earth, we have given coal, Freedom, in your name.
Though we had many masters, we owned no rule but yours,
For that is vain which is not done for Freedom.

In your name, Freedom,
We have cleared forests and made deserts bloom
And covered the states with corn and wheat and herds,
And suffered droughts and storms, Freedom,
That yours might be a great empire.

Freedom, we have built the fences of your farmers and the roofs of your cities,
We have made machines of your empire, Freedom, and we have built our lives into its structure,
For you, Freedom, only for you.

We have given, Freedom, in your hands, our youth and our health and our beauty
In the fields, and the factories of your empire, Freedom, we have given all that we had to give,
Holding always to our faith in you.

Durably, without complaint, day after day,
We have filled the little tasks of your empire, Freedom,
Performed little duties and earned little wages,
Without complaining, without understanding,
Save that we worked in your name.

Workmen and Workwomen!
I do not affirm that what you see beyond is futile ...
I do not say leading you, thought great are not great ...
But I say that none lead to greater than these lead to.

No nation great as ours can escape the penalty of greatness. Ours is a government of liberty by, through and under the law.

There has been something crude and heartless and unfeeling in our haste to succeed and be great.

The great government we loved has too often been made use of for private and selfish purposes and those who used it had forgotten the people.

The world is filled with dread and a great war wages but still Freedom holds aloof from her people, for this war is not waged in her name until the prophet, speaking, gives it meaning.

Allons, through struggles and wars!
The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.

We are glad now to fight thus for the ultimate peace of the world and for the liberation of its peoples.

To such a task we can dedicate our lives and our fortunes, everything that we are and everything that we have, with the pride of those who know that the day is come when America is privileged to spend her blood and her might for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and the peace which she has treasured.

Smash down the cities,
Knock the walls to pieces.
Break the factories and cathedrals, warehouses and homes
Into loose piles of stone and lumber and black burnt wood:
You are the soldiers and we command you.

Build up the cities.
Set up the walls again.
Put together once more the factories and cathedrals, warehouses and homes
Into buildings for life and labor;
You are the workmen and citizens all: We command you.

You people,
What are you to Freedom?
What is Freedom to you?
You have no rights, but only duties.
Produce!
Faster and faster.
Harder and harder.
It doesn’t matter
How tired you are.
Produce, do you hear?

You people!
Stand up for your rights!
To hell with your duties!
Do you want Freedom?
Well, then, organize!
Wealth is labor!
Property is labor!
Capital is labor!
Organize!

You people!
Forget about freedom!
Government’s government.
Republican. Democrat.
Right or wrong,
My country still!
The Constitution,
Wonderful instrument![78]
Land of the Free
And the home of the Brave!
Politics. Politics.
Don’t forget Washington,
Lincoln or Hamilton.
What did they tell you?
Worship the government.

You masses! You masses! You masses!
Do you know your power?
Do you know your meaning?
Do you know what you can do?
We’re Freedom.
We’re Russia!
We’re God!
Awake masses!
You are the state!
You are the world!
You are the universe!
Take what is yours.

[All this while the people, to swifter and swifter music, always more and more macabre and dissonant, have moved ever and ever more swiftly. Now the music comes back to a horrible parody of “I’ve been working on the Railroad” and the movement takes shape in designs and formal groups, large and small. And the men who made up three cones and the fan surge over the stair and drag Freedom down so that she is lost in the whirling mob. And the light, broken and colorful, dies to gloom and the movement is a movement of patterns and the music drowns all, singing and[79] instrumental. Then, just at the front of the stage, just above the throne of the Chronicler, a single ray of white light breaks upon Freedom again and, along the upper level, the light once more lifts, and as Freedom begins to speak, it seems to be daybreak.]

O People, my People, my People,
Where are your wits and your hearts and your souls?
What have you done with the destiny I left you?
Fools! Fools! Fools!

Man does not seek the dream that is not his,
Nor dream the search to which he was not destined,
Nor hope for that which he does not believe.
Who would be free is free;
Who would be otherwise is otherwise.
Ever man is himself man’s enemy;
Ever man’s fear to be himself shall be
Between man and man’s liberty.

Soldiers of Freedom!
Comrades of Freedom!
Brothers of Freedom!
Children of Freedom!
Not slaves, but men!
Not sheep, but men!
Not masses, but men!
I cannot set you free who were born free.[80]
Nor strike your shackles off who were born slaves.
Be to yourselves yourselves, the rest is glory.

Workmen and workwomen!
Children and aged!
You were born of the past!
You are pledged to the future.

Soldiers of Freedom,
Comrades of Freedom,
Brothers of Freedom,
You! You! And You!
I lead again! I live again! I love!
Who dares to follow now!
Who comes beside me, bravely and alone,
Not one of masses, but as man alone?
What, none?
Are you all masses, then?

You, have you faith?
You, are you honest?
You, is your spirit strong?
You, can you face the sun?
Why then, come on!
Come on! On! On!
I lead—Come on! Come on!

[She plunges up the slope toward the light, her own refulgence illuminating those who come immediately after her. The music reaches its wildest and highest point as the crowds falling in widely behind her, begins to ascend the slope. Freedom[81] is seen to pause and wave the crowd on and a great cone of humanity moves up the stair. Then the music stops upon a tremendous major resolution and Freedom is standing at the top of the stair at last and all the people, their arms reached upwards to her, are spread out below and the light is blinding. The music gives way to a rolling of drums and from the hills come crazy voices invoked by the wild cries and the wilder arms of Freedom most transfigured, most blazing of all.]

Yankee Doodle came to town,
Riding on a pony,
Stuck a feather in his hat
And called it macaroni!
Yankee Doodle....

I’ll fight it out on this line if it takes all summer! Give me liberty or give me death! Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable! Millions for defense but not one cent for tribute! A war to end war! Don’t give up the ship! Lafayette, here we are! Too proud to fight! In the name of the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress!

John Brown’s body lies a moulding in the grave,
John Brown’s body lies a moulding in the grave,
John Brown’s body lies a moulding in the grave,
But his soul goes marching on!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory....

Way down south in the land of cotton,
Cinnamon seed and sandy bottom,
Look away, look away, look away, look away!
That’s the land where I was born in....

Over there! Over there! Over there! Over there! Over there! The Yanks are coming....

Children of Freedom,
Out of the mind of God,
Hear ye the truth—
Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees!...
Can ye grow grapes from thorns or figs from thistles?
What man, by taking thought, can add a cubit to his stature?
Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees!
To him that hath shall be given. From him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath....
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth....
Seek and ye shall find....

One hundred and fifty years ago there was fought upon this place a battle. Out of that battle came a nation and a nation’s race and a race’s vision of freedom.

The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of Freedom; and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.

“The Battle of April 19, 1775, in Lexington, Concord, Lincoln, Arlington, Cambridge, Somerville and Charlestown.” New Edition, 1922. By Frank Warren Coburn. Illustrated. 200 pp. Price $1.75.

“The Battle on Lexington Common, April 19, 1775,” a paper read before the Lexington Historical Society, December 12, 1916, by Frank Warren Coburn. Illustrated. Published in 1918. 60 pp. Price $2.50.

“Lexington, the Birthplace of American Liberty.” A hand-book. By Fred S. Piper. 1923. 62 pp. Price $0.50, postage 10 cents.

Hudson’s “History of Lexington.” Revised Edition. In two volumes. 1913. Vol. I, History; 583 pp. Vol. II, Genealogies; 897 pp. Withdrawn.

“Guide Book to Hancock-Clark House.” A descriptive catalogue of the historical collection of the Lexington Historical Society on exhibition in the house where Hancock and Adams were sleeping when aroused by Paul Revere. Illustrated. 24 pp. Price $0.20.

“Epitaphs in the Old Burying Grounds, Lexington.” By Francis Brown, M.D. With map. 8vo. About 200 pp. Price $1.00.

“Proceedings of the Lexington Historical Society.” Historical and Memorial papers read before the Society. Illustrated. Vols. I, II, III, IV. 8vo. About 250 pp. each. Price $1.00 per volume. Vol. I out of print.

“A Sketch of the Munroe Clan.” 1900. By James Phinney Munroe. Paper. 75 pp. Price $0.50. Out of print.

“Lexington, Mass., Record of Births, Marriages and Deaths” to January 1, 1898. Cloth. 484 pp. Sent on receipt of 25 cents postage.

“Two Hundredth Anniversary of the Incorporation of the Town of Lexington.” 1913. Proceedings and Addresses. Paper. 37 pp. Price $0.20.

“Lexington Historical Society. A sketch of its origin and achievements.” 1886-1912. By Fred S. Piper. Paper. 10 pp. Price $0.10.

“The Rev. Jonas Clark, Minister and Patriot in Lexington for 50 Years.” 1755-1805. By Rev. Charles F. Carter. 1912. 10 pp. Price $0.10.

18 Postal Card Views of Historic Lexington, 8 of which are copyrighted including the Hancock-Clark House, Buckman Tavern, Munroe Tavern, Minuteman Statue, interiors, etc. Price $0.03 each, $0.45 the set.

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Edwin B. Worthen, Chairman	Frederick L. Emery
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of "Lexington": A Pageant-Drama of the American Freedom

“Lexington”

To My Wife

Foreword

Characters in the Play

Groups in the Play

“Lexington”

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Publications for Sale by the
Lexington Historical Society

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

The Project Gutenberg eBook of "Lexington": A Pageant-Drama of the American Freedom

“Lexington”

To My Wife

Foreword

Characters in the Play

Groups in the Play

“Lexington”

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Publications for Sale by the Lexington Historical Society

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

Publications for Sale by the
Lexington Historical Society