GENERAL SUGGESTIONS.

In preparing tableaux to illustrate a song, poem or prose reading or recitation, the manager will find that success depends largely upon promptness. This requires a thorough knowledge of the part to be rendered, as well as of the places in the reading where tableaux are to be shown, and of the characters and stage settings for each picture.

A full dress rehearsal is indispensable, as many points—insignificant of themselves—will come up for adjustment that cannot be decided upon at the last minute; and although of itself trivial, the pose or expression of a single character, the misplacing of an article of furniture or ornament, the draping of a costume, etc., will help make or mar a beautiful picture.

A stage manager who will see to all these details and provide himself with intelligent assistants who will quietly “set” the stage for one picture and clear it for the next, behind the curtain, in such a manner as not to interrupt the reader in front of it, nor take the attention of the audience, is equally necessary.

Absolute quiet behind the curtain must be insisted upon, and the “characters” not allowed to make it a place for social reunion between the parts.

Two dressing rooms are necessary, even if the characters are all of one sex—as things can be more easily arranged with but few to disturb them.

4All persons not needed behind the curtain must be excluded, as their presence only tends to confusion and delay.

The assistants who manage the furniture and other stage accessories, must know just what is required for each tableau, and when—and have those near at hand that are first needed, storing at the greatest distance those not again required, when clearing the stage.

The tableaux should be numbered, and the requisites for each listed, and a copy given to the stage director and assistants, for their reference and to avoid mistakes and delay.

Look out for the curtain. At the last moment it has sometimes been found that the curtain would not work, or that those appointed to manipulate it did not understand its mechanics, and great embarrassment has resulted. A signal must be determined upon, between the reader and the stage manager, that the curtain may rise at the point proper to illustrate what has just been read—not what will follow.

Should there be a lack of side screens, these may be supplied by covering ordinary clothes-horses with cambric, cotton, or cotton flannel, having due regard to the costumes and figures to be shown. A dark back and side for a picture all light and brightness (as a fairy or wedding scene), and light if the picture is a darker one. Judgment here is valuable.

DIRECTIONS.

Having selected the poem or story you wish to present, make choice of your reader. Get some one who reads naturally and distinctly. The tableaux take away all necessity for dramatic action on the part of the reader—if any ever existed—and the entire attention may be devoted to bringing out the thought of the author.

The reader should practice in the room where the entertainment is to be given, at least enough to be sure of its acoustic properties and so secure the right pitch of voice,—height and size of room, as well as shape and furnishings, making a great difference.

The reading must be given in front of the closed curtain, that the manager may be having the stage prepared for each succeeding tableau, that it may be presented promptly when desired.

Ordinarily tableaux should he shown twice, as few in the audience get more than a glimpse of what they want to see in detail. If elaborate, even a third showing is always acceptable, and as the picture is already arranged it requires but little time, and is better than one long period of showing it.

In making up, use as simple materials as possible; scorched flour for darkening the skin, corn starch for white powder, an ordinary soft lead pencil for outlining eyebrows, etc. Dark wigs may be made of curled hair (such as is used for 6mattresses) sewed to a cambric “skull” fitted to the head for which it is intended; white ones of cotton batting sewed on in tufts to represent short curls; mustache, whiskers, etc., may be manufactured from coarse linen thread attached to a bit of cloth which again has to be “stuck on” by means of mucilage, court plaster or white of egg.

Foot-lights are essential for tableaux, and if not supplied, a row of small hand lamps at the front edge of platform is easily procured. Candles are good also—but not quite so safe. Shades for either may be made of old tin cans, all the seams unsoldered, top and bottom removed, the tin being turned toward the audience, and throwing the light on the picture. Shade must at least be as high as the blaze. Wings are as difficult to make seem natural as anything, and yet should be easily made and adjusted, by first cutting a pattern of the desired shape and length; cut the wings from cotton flannel, nap running from shoulder to tip; sew stiff bonnet wire around the edges, being sure to make a pretty shape and not too small; set them on a piece of cloth three by six inches, also wired. Wings must not be stiff enough to be awkward, nor limp enough to be troublesome; if the latter, additional wiring, lengthwise diagonally, will correct it—and if the cloth is too light in texture it may be used double.

THE BIRTH OF THE IVY.

Characters:—“A Ladye of High Degree”; Her Knight; Her Page; Peasants.

Costumes:—In the first two tableaux the Ladye wears any elegant dress that is sufficiently antique, and which can be put on over the white one used in the third and fourth. In the fifth a hat and mantle may be used to change the appearance, but little time being given between the changes of scene; a plain dark gown in the sixth and seventh, over which may be draped something brilliant for the eighth; in the ninth a white or light colored wrapper or simple house dress.

In the second tableau the Knight first appears—and in ordinary dress; in the next in full military costume, as also in the fifth, his “last appearance.”

The Page, who should be a handsome boy of from seven to twelve years old, wears dark blouse waist, dark knee pants, sash of brilliant color, deep lace ruffles at wrist, broad round collar of same, low shoes with high heels; black velvet cap with plume; velvet cape with bright lining for last tableau.

Peasant women’s dress—short, scant skirt of any bright color; plain, round short sleeved; bodice of same or harmonious contrasting color. If an old woman is shown in group, she may wear cap and kerchief of white, the latter voluminous and crossed over chest.

1. Drawing room scene. Ladye Clare stands in foreground. Furniture should be as elegant as possible.

2. Ladye Clare at left of center, in easy chair; Knight half kneels in front of her; both side-face to audience; Ladye’s hand extended to Knight, who is in the act of raising it to his lips.

3. Ladye stands at right of center, head erect, Knight again kneeling—but in reverse position.

4. Ladye in center, sitting with head bowed on center table, over which her arms are thrown.

5. Ladye at left, half way back on stage; Knight entering with long strides from left of foreground, each looking intently at the other.

6. “Ladye’s bower.” Couch at left, with handsome cushions and spread; vases filled with flowers, bric-a-brac, pictures, etc., adapted to a young lady’s room. Ladye Clare in easy chair at right; handkerchief pressed to her eyes by right hand, while left falls over arm of chair.

7. Same scene—Page entered back of couch, in listening attitude, cap held in hand in front of him, facing Ladye, who waves him away with right arm, hope in her face.

8. Same scene.—Ladye sits on couch; Page stands in center front, with head down, cap held behind him—in full view of audience.

9. Ladye on couch, half reclining, white spread thrown over her; hair hanging loosely (face should be powdered); expression of disappointment; Page stands at entrance, reluctant to intrude or to give his message.

10. Grave in center of foreground, covered with green vines and cut flowers. Peasants at either end, and in background. Stones (boards covered with white paper) may be placed at head and foot of grave.

CALLAGHAN’S FAILURE.

Mr. Callaghan was busily engaged in an inspection of silverware that seemed to interest him exceedingly. He examined each object carefully, often stopping long enough to test the particular object with his teeth, or even to bend it. At the same time his actions were quiet, and, one might say, reserved. He did not appear to care to be noticed.[1]

He was a rather tall young fellow, carelessly dressed, as they say in novels, and he had a pale face, like a student’s. One might, indeed, have thought him a poor student, were it not for his eyes, which, instead of looking tired and dreamy, like a student’s, were exceedingly active and restless. On the whole, his face and his general appearance were not pre-possessing. Indeed, the policeman on the beat most frequented by Mr. Callaghan in social life, reported him at the Precinct House as “a general tough—suspicious.”

Mr. Callaghan, although very young, had already learned the value of exceeding caution. Hence, he was almost noiseless; and he inspected the silverware in the very mild light of a half-opened dark lantern. A happy smile played around the corners of his face for a while, for the silverware he was examining proved to be of the finest and newest, and bore the monogram of a famous New York family. For that matter, the entire surroundings of Mr. Callaghan, at that time, were of the richest. The very sideboard at which he labored was worth a small fortune, and the cut glass upon it looked very beautiful in the mellow light. There were rich red tints 14in some of the glassware, occasioned by their contents, but Mr. Callaghan did not stop to examine them. He did not believe in drinking during business hours. The time was something after midnight.

Mr. Callaghan was aroused from his pre-occupation by a faint click. It sounded very much like the click of the trigger, as a revolver is cocked. ’Twas a trifle startling, but he did not lose his presence of mind. He faced around like a flash, and turned off the rays of his dark lantern. He knew it was almost useless to take the latter precaution, however, for he was well informed, and knew that, in the houses of the rich of to-day, it required but the pressure of a button to turn on a full stream of electric lights throughout an entire floor. The sudden burst of light came, just as he expected it would, and as it did so, he heard a voice say “Don’t dare to move!”

He was more startled by the voice than he was by the sudden glare of electric light, for it was the voice of a young girl!! Mr. Callaghan blinked a few times, took a good look, and then his thin face broadened a trifle into a smile. At the other end of the room stood a very pale but resolute girl in a pink wrapper. She held a little gold-mounted revolver, of a calibre so small that Mr. CallaghanCallaghan but for his natural politeness, would have laughed at it outright, and she was biting her lip, for she was apparently rather nervous. The revolver was pointed in Mr. Callaghan’sCallaghan’s direction, but alas! the hand that held it was shaking very perceptibly[2]....

Callaghan grinned. “Isn’t it rather late for you to be out?” he asked her.

15“Don’t dare to move,” she replied; “I know precisely what to do. Papa told me before he went away. I’m going to sound the burglar alarm and have you arrested; then you will be sent to State’s Prison.”

“Well,” almost laughed Mr. Callaghan, “why don’t you do it? I’m waiting.”

“Because,” she answered, hesitatingly,—“because you’re standing in front of it.”

“Oh, am I?” answered Callaghan. “Then I’ll move away, I always like to be polite to ladies.” He moved away a few steps. She frowned a little bit. Then she said “Excuse me. Will you please move a little further away?” “Certainly,” he replied, “anything to oblige a real lady.”

She stepped toward the alarm, which Callaghan had not, until then, perceived, and stretched forth her hand.[3]

She was about to turn the little handle, when Callaghan said hastily: “Hold on a minute. Do you think that would be a nice thing to do?”

“Of course it would,” she answered.

“Just think about it a moment,” Callaghan continued; “if you did that, I’d be arrested, and sent up for fifteen or twenty years. Fifteen or twenty years, in a little cell, all by myself, with no one to talk to and nothing to do—except break stones for my health. Now, I don’t care anything about it myself, of course; I havn’t done you any wrong. I havn’t got away with the silver, and therefore, there isn’t any wrong done you, is there? I tried to, but you’ve got the best of me, and you’re an awfully brave little girl to do it, too. But just think of 16yourself during the next fifteen or twenty years, if you have me sent up. Every day you’ll be thinking about the poor fellow who’s doing time because you made him; and every night you’ll be lying awake, crying, because you made him suffer so much, for such a little thing; and every time the minister in your church says anything about forgiving your enemies, you’ll be thinking he means you; and,”

She broke in “I think I’ll let you go.” She said it very earnestly.

Callaghan laughed aloud. “That’s right,” he said, “I knew you would, for I knew you were a lady the minute I saw you. I didn’t mean what I said. Probably in a month you’d forget all about me. No one remembers a fellow who’s doing time, but the police and the detectives. I was just trying an experiment. Do you think I was afraid you’d call the police? Nonsense. Do you think I was afraid of your little revolver? Nonsense. I’ve been shot twice by real revolvers. If you’d tried to sound the burglar alarm, do you know what I’d have done? I’d have made a quick jump for you and I’d have my hands about your throat before you could have winked. If you’d fired the revolver, you’d missed me. Girls can’t shoot.”

He said this last almost contemptuously, but he was sorry a moment after, for he noticed that she was growing very white, and very frightened too. Nevertheless, he continued: “And after I’d got my hands about your neck, and you couldn’t scream or struggle or shoot, what do you suppose I’d have done?”

She did not reply. She could not speak. She was trembling 17violently. “I’d have—I’d—,” he was embarrassed, and he actually blushed,—Callaghan blushed—“I’d have kissed you,” he said with an effort, “and then I’d have gone away. But you needn’t look frightened any longer. I ain’t going to hurt you, and I ain’t going to kiss you; for some day you’d be ashamed of it. You’d be ashamed to tell your sweetheart that Rocky Callaghan kissed you; and I ain’t goin’ to take any thing that belongs to this house, although I could, right before your eyes. I’m just going home peaceably.”

He started to walk toward the window by which he had entered.[4] As he did so, however, he looked at her critically, stopped, and said: “You’re going to hold out just about till I’m gone. Then you are going to faint. I can’t leave you here alone in a faint. I’ll fix it.”

He walked deliberately to the sideboard and poured out a glass of ice-water. “Here,” said he, “drink this, and then go upstairs as quick as you can. I’ll lock the window after I go out.”[5]

She took the water with a frightened “Thank you,” and drank it. Mr. Callaghan turned to leave. “That brings the red back in your cheeks,” he said.... “Now, I’m going, but I want you to remember that I’m not afraid of the burglar alarm nor of your little revolver. I’m not going to rob you because—because you’re so brave and because you’re so pretty. I sort of hate to make a failure of a job, and I guess the boys will guy me a bit for it; but you are too pretty.” Saying which, Mr. Callaghan climbed nimbly through the window and disappeared.

1. Dining-room scene, very scant light. Silverware on table, on which sits half-opened dark lantern; side-board in background; burglar behind table in center, faces audience while examining silverware, face lighted by lantern. (Face may be darkened by scorched flour.)

2. Same scene, brilliantly lighted, with burglar at left end of table; girl in pink wrapper at right end of room, hair down and arm extended holding toy pistol or revolver. (Face powdered white.)

3. Same as second. Girl moved a little to right with arm reached toward burglar alarm.

4. Burglar turned facing girl, back half turned to audience.

5. Burglar passing water, which girl has stretched hand to receive.

MATRIMONIAL PHILOSOPHY.

1. Parlor scene, with lady on one side of the room, the lovers in waiting—each in turn approaching and being rejected, retire to a seat to “sit and sigh.”

2. Shows the young men only; having changed their positions they are doing a general “languishing” business.

3. The young lady in center of foreground receives suitor No. 4, who comes on “bended knee.”

4. Shows the first three young men in center of front, hands in pockets—frowning and scowling.

5. Shows husband and wife at left end of stage quarreling—young men at right in attitudes of interest, watching the couple.

6. The three young men in center, front of stage, one smiling, the other two laughing.

THE OPENING OF THE PIANO.

1. Sitting-room. Piano at right. Piano box just opened, in background at left. Center-table has books and papers.

2. Several children crowding about the instrument in attitudes of eager inspection. Parents a little in background.

3. Boy and girl in foreground, crowding and pushing.

4. Oldest daughter sits down to play, children near front, parents in background.

5. Sing “Vesper Hymn”—if possible, with piano accompaniment.

6. Little girl looking in from opposite side of room, screen door ajar; family grouped as above.

7. She has advanced to center of foreground, side face to audience, but looking toward the mother, the rest watching her.

DEAR OLD GRANDMOTHER.

1. Sitting-room with antique furniture. Old lady pacing across stage front, carrying baby in red night-dress.

2. Baby in cradle; grandmother near, facing audience, sings “Hush, my dear; lie still and slumber.” If Grandmother’s part is taken by some one who can not sing, this may be done by a hidden voice.

3. Same as 2. Sings “Sleep, Baby, Sleep.”

4. Grandmother sits quiet—bending over cradle.

ANSWERING AN ADVERTISEMENT.

1. Lawyer at desk, left of center and a little back; woman in center, faces judge and audience alternately; boy in background.

2. Boy dragged to front by mother, and while she talks, he fusses with desk furnishings.

3. Boy and mother in center—front. (Ink on his light colored pants may be simulated by black cloth sewed on.) Mother points to it.

4. Boy in background—mother side faces audience while addressing the lawyer, wrings hands and weeps.

5. Boy again near front, listening to threats of mother, who shakes him and her fist in turn.

THE BRIDAL VEIL

1. Drawing-room scene. Bride and groom in full wedding costume; bride in white, with orange blossoms and veil of tarlatan or lace; both stand near center in foreground, a little apart, facing each other.

2. Husband in act of lifting veil from side front.

3. Both are sitting on sofa—settled and serene.

JIMMY BROWN’S SISTER’S WEDDING

She ought to have been married a long while ago. That’s what everybody says who knows her. She has been engaged to Mr. Travers for three years and has had to refuse lots of offers to go to the circus with other young men. I have wanted her to get married, so that I could go and live with her and Mr. Travers. When I think that if it hadn’t been for a mistake I made she would have been married yesterday, I find it dreadfully hard to be resigned.