See America First Part 23

A large stadium capable of accommodating forty thousand people had been erected near the seash.o.r.e behind a field of action or immense stage four hundred feet wide and with a depth of four hundred and fifty feet. This stage had to be illuminated from a distance of over one hundred and fifty feet, requiring for the pageant over three hundred kilowatts power, enough electrical energy to operate thirteen thousand ordinary house lights, and by far the largest installation for this purpose that has been used in this country.

Suddenly, from a canopied rock, was heard a rich, powerful voice speaking to the American people of the changes and vicissitudes that the rock has witnessed since "far primordial ages." Fit prologue it was from the "corner-stone of the Republic."

Out of the shadowy night from where is heard the mysterious voice of the rock thirty Indians, bearing ten canoes on their shoulders, move silently toward the sh.o.r.e. Suddenly one of the Indians perceives a strange object to the left on the harbor.

Terror seizes them all, and they vanish like larger among lesser shadows. Nine more Indians appear bearing three boats but, seeing the phantom, fear fell upon them and they dropped to the sh.o.r.e, covering themselves with their canoes. From the right appears a Norse galley, the armor-clad warriors and their leader Thorwald making a fine picture as they disembark, carrying their s.h.i.+elds, spears, and battle axes. As the men draw near they see the three canoes, and Thorwald forms three groups from his company, who approach rapidly toward them. The approach so frightens the Indians under two of the canoes that they rise up and attempt to flee; whereupon the warriors after some fierce fighting, kill them with their javelins.

The third boat is removed and reveals three Indians too terrified to move. One escapes and one is captured; another, feigning death, creeps slowly and painfully to the left, where his every gesture reveals the agonies of a mortally wounded warrior. The canoes are taken and borne aloft, on the shoulders of the majestic Vikings, trophies of a foreign land and victorious conflict.

No sooner do they pa.s.s on board the s.h.i.+p than a watcher in the prow warns the rest of impending danger; for, swiftly and warily approaching; the infuriated red men seem to be planning revenge in a surprise attack. Like a wall of flas.h.i.+ng steel the s.h.i.+elds go up around the deck while the gangplank is quickly drawn in.

Suddenly a shower of arrows fly toward the wall of s.h.i.+elds, hitting them with a thud but seemingly doing no harm. Presently they flee in haste, thinking perhaps these are G.o.ds who cannot be harmed. Slowly the s.h.i.+elds are lowered and Thorwald is shown to be in great distress. One sees he is in a death swoon, yet, he raises an arm and points toward the Gurnet, then reels and falls into the arms of his stalwart men. Once more that steel wall goes up, and the mysterious strangers with their curious s.h.i.+p move out on the sea, bearing their leader's body held high on locked s.h.i.+elds.

Next appear three men having an English flag with the words "Martin Pring-Patuxet--1603."

Here on the sh.o.r.e, with a band of men dressed in the costumes of those early days, appears a right merry group of men listening to one of their number who is playing on a gittern. As if enamored of the melody the Indians gather around the musician.

One, who by his gesticulations, tells in actions more plainly than words that he wishes to dance, offers this modern Orpheus a peace-pipe. Others present various gifts until the English youth steps out among them. They form a circle about him and try to keep time to the music.

Suddenly a member who drops out receives a beating. Fiercer and swifter becomes the dance until in the height of the wildest part a number of dogs spring forward on their leashes, so frightening the savages that they flee in terror. The player seems to be amused yet startled at the incident and goes toward the Indians laughing. Behind a French flag the lights reveal three sailors. On the flag we see written: "Sieur De Champlain-- July 19, 1605."

As the lights s.h.i.+ft, two Indians appear bearing a great number of codfish which are being examined by Champlain and his men.

The Indians show the hooks and lines with which they catch these fish. Noting some growing corn, Champlain tries to learn about the strange plant. The Indians by signs show him that corn may be raised and used as food. He barters for food and fish. Having acquired a great variety of provender they move toward the sh.o.r.e as the lights fade.

Next appear three men dressed in the Dutch mariner's uniform of the time. The flag they carry bears the inscription: "Admiral Blok--1614."

A crowd of Dutchmen appear to be enjoying the evening. They are watching a band of Indians who are dancing. One cannot tell which they are enjoying most, the long-stemmed pipes they are smoking or the weird dances of the redmen, whom they loudly applaud.

Following this scene is the tableau of Captain John Smith in the spring of 1614. Behind this group are seen three English sailors holding a flag upon which is written "John Smith--Accomack-- 1614."

Down by the water where streaks of foam top the dark waves and the forms of two men loom dark and spectral, a boat is riding at anchor. While the boulders beat the surf into white foam and the branches of the elms wail and toss in the night wind, Smith and four of his men are trading with the Indians; others of his men are on guard against any treachery, while two of the men are placing the skins which they have bought into hogsheads. There are thirty or forty Indians when the bartering is at its height, and Smith is seen making a bargain with an Indian for a bale of beaver.

One of Smith's men, who notices a very fine skin an Indian is wearing, lifts it to show it to Smith. The Indian resents this act, and there seems to be resentment and fear among all the red men. The Englishmen stiffen to attention, but Smith, who feared neither man nor devil, goes among the Indians carrying a copper kettle and a gorgeous blanket. He held out his blanket persuasively and added several strings of beads. Then he draped the blanket on himself. The Indian at last reluctantly yields and takes off the skin, a beautiful black fox. The lights closed in around a group of Indians decked in their new robes.

Our attention is turned toward the sh.o.r.e once more where three English sailors hold a flag bearing the words: "Thomas Hunt-- Patuxet--1615." Hunt enters stealthily at the right, and his attention is concentrated upon a spot where his trained eye has caught, a glimpse of something of greater interest than bird or fish. He is evidently scouting. Then appear at his signal a band of men moving in single file, who hide behind the bushes. Hunt too, as if hearing something, hides himself. Silently a shadowy procession moves from Town Brook, carrying pelts and fis.h.i.+ng apparatus. A canoe is borne on the shoulders of two of them.

They put the canoe down and all gather in a group to prepare for the day's fis.h.i.+ng.

All unconscious of danger, they lay their weapons aside. Hunt rises and signals to his men, who quickly fall upon the Indians as they try to flee. Several stagger across the field fatally wounded, while most of the men are captured and bound. After they gag the Indians they force them toward the water's edge where a boat is waiting. As the group disappears, or is seen as a band of faint shadows, the despairing figure of Tisquantum, bound and struggling, is brought into relief.

There is darkness for a brief time then, as the lights come slowly on, they reveal an absolutely empty s.p.a.ce where before were seen activity and plenty. The music for this scene, composed by Henry F. Gilbert, was of a character at once weird, awe-inspiring, almost magical, portraying by tone as plainly as by words the scene of desolation, sickness and death. It seemed as if there were an increasing sense of indefinite fear--a deep impression of solemnity and gravity, as if we were conscious of contact with the eternities.

A change as unusual as it was unwholesome came upon the ocean.

"As the lights touched the water a purple glow that was to it like the ashen hue that beclouds the face of the dying. A filmy green spread over the land and there seemed to arise a miasmatic vapor like the breath of a brooding pestilence, which clung clammily to the earth and dulled all life." Every one felt the presence of trouble impending; one grave question breathed forth from the haunting music and, unspoken, trembled on every lip; one overmastering idea blended with and overpowered all others.

"The land and sea were both sick, stagnant, and foul, and there seemed to arise from their unfathomable depths, drawn by the weird power of the music, horrid shapes that glared steadily into the strange twilight they had arisen to."

"Such a morbific, unwholesome condition" cast upon land and sea, and music that seemed to breathe forth such despair and desolation, could not but deeply move the audience.

One breathes more freely when the light falls upon a group of ten Englishmen, who appear in single file at the right. Thomas Dermer seems engaged in a very spirited conversation with Samoset, an Indian, while Tisquantum, another Indian, follows and seems absorbed in his own thoughts. While Dermer is engaged in conversation, a group of sailors pa.s.s near the water's edge, where they drop their burdens. They gaze out on the water as if looking for a boat. Tisquantum goes past Dermer and Samoset and stands looking off across the harbor, deep in gloomy thought.

>From out there, as darkness closes about the lonely figure on the sh.o.r.e, there is borne to our ears by the night wind the distant sound of voices chanting early sixteenth century music.

The music continues while the various characters appear, and finally grows fainter until it can no longer be heard. A young boy appears on the left as if on his way to his morning labor.

He is driving a horse that is. .h.i.tched to a crude plow. There enters from the right a group of seven men and five women, who wear the costumes of religious pilgrims. They have the staff, the script, and the water bottle. Two of the number have been to Rome, for they wear the palm; two others show that they have been to Compostella, for they wear the sh.e.l.l; while two others have the bottle and bell, proving that they have been to Canterbury.

The next scene represented the Fleet Prison on the night of April 5, 1593. Two heaps of straw are seen, on which a man in Puritan garb is seated, writing rapidly. By the other heap sits a man on a stool, who is correcting some written pages. Both men wear chains. A woman stands by the second man with some papers.

She seems to be waiting for the other sheets which the man is writing. As he pa.s.ses the last to her she hides them all in the bosom of her dress.

The next scene represents the Opposition, 7603. The lights are suddenly turned, on revealing a flurry of children and young people across the field, from left to right, and the sound of gay music from the point toward which the children are running.

The field fills rapidly with some hundreds of people--men, women and children, of all types and kinds. From the right to the triumphant march, King James enters in royal progress.

s.p.a.ce forbids us to relate the various scenes portrayed upon this wonderfully well-illuminated field. No one who witnessed this wonderful production can ever forget the solemn impressiveness of its closing scenes. A voice is heard coming from the rock, "As one candle may light a thousand, so the lights here kindled have shone to many, yea! in some sort, to our whole nation."

As Bradford gazes out in the distance, the lights now penetrating more deeply reveal in turn, George Was.h.i.+ngton and Abraham Lincoln. The clear voice of Was.h.i.+ngton repeats these significant words: "The basis of our political system is the right of the people to make and to alter their const.i.tution of the government." Then the deep, calm voice of Lincoln is heard to say: "Government of the people, for the people, and by the people, shall not perish from the earth."

As Lincoln finishes speaking, two men in modern dress come toward the rock, looking seaward.

The first speaker:

"This was the port of entry of our Freedom.

Men brought it in a box of alabaster And broke the box and spilled it to the West, Here on the granite wharf prepared for them.

Second speaker:

"And so we have it."

Firstspeaker:

"Have it to achieve; We have it as they had it in their day, A little in the grasp--more to achieve."

Then we hear these significant words:

"I wonder what the Pilgrims if they came Would say to us, as Freemen? Is our freedom Their freedom as they left it to our keeping, Or would they know their own in modern guise?

Across the back of the field to the grand triumphal strains of martial music pa.s.s the flags of the allies, so lighted that they show brilliantly. Nearer move the French and British flags, and then all wave and beckon. There follows a hush. Suddenly from far out on the Mayflower a bugle calls in the darkness and light begins to glow on the vessel, but very faintly.

Then again the voice from the Rock is heard: "The path of the Mayflower must be forever free." Forty-eight young women bear the state flags. The pageant ground is now ablaze with lights, and as the wonderful chorus that has carried you on its mighty tide of harmony dies away; the field darkens until there is only light on the Mayflower.

Again the voice from the Rock fills the place with deep sonorous tones, like celestial music, as we listen to these fitting words: "With malice toward none and charity for all it is for us to resolve that this nation under G.o.d shall have a new birth of freedom."

What is there in Europe, or the whole world, in the way of pageants that can compare with this? When we consider its import, viewed in the full, bright light of the rising sun of Liberty; wafted by the delicate electric threads of this busy commercial world which are silently conveying with a certain majesty of movement its significance, we may well say that this celebrated one of the most eventful deeds of man since time began.

"As we go back to that shadowy and evanescent period when history and culture of ancient Chaldea unroll before us, with the overpowering greatness of a.s.syria followed by the swift rise and fall of Babylon, let us try and extract some truths in regard to the growth of Civilization. Even though nations rise and fall, and races come and go, has not human development been ever upward and onward?"

Let us then look forward to the dawning of a better day. Let us cherish those high ideals of liberty our fore-fathers so dearly bought. Let us put on the strong armor of the Word of G.o.d which was to them a s.h.i.+eld and a buckler and move forward with firm, steadfast hope toward a brighter dawn of Freedom, that shall exceed that of the present as the light which gleamed from the Mayflower exceeded in brilliancy that of the Old World.

Watching the lights slowly fade on the Mayflower we thought how the Pilgrims had stood on the icy deck of the vessel, with the winds blowing through the masts overhead and the waves roaring about the black hull beneath, while they sang hymns of praise for deliverance from the dangers of the sea.

And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England sh.o.r.e.

Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true hearted came; Not with the roll of the stirring drams, Or the trumpet that sings of fame.