164

156 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-ELEVEN





extremely funny on that subject in the Class Book, and Scottie made me promise not
to ask her for any witticisms to putin here. But I want to say right here, with Hoby—who
shares with me the cardinal virtue of modesty—that that was a very good show in many
ways. Why just look at the classical remarks it evoked from President Thomas and what
valuable material it has furnished for almost every song in 1911’s song book. Had that
performance been less low, less not-vulgar-but, much that is with us now could never have
been said or sung.

It was when President Thomas asked Amy whether Mr. King thought he could get a
cast for any play out of our class that I realised fully her abyssmal lack of confidence—yes,
downright distrust—of our dramatic ability. She saw all the preparations for that play,
however; she saw the cast taking its nerve tonic in Miss Maddison’s office before each
rehearsal; she caught their merry revelry up and down the hall outside her office; and she
heard every word of the monologues Mr. King delivered during the entire length of every
rehearsal. ‘When I was playing with "Enry Hirving, he would say to me: ‘Why aren’t
you two inches taller? You could play Hamlet as it should be played, or Macbeth to Miss
Terry’s Lady if you were only two inches taller’,” etc. As I say, we kept nothing from Presi-
dent Thomas, and when she saw those Turks in their;harem skirts and heard the refined
jokes of that play she had to admit that we were one great step up the scale of evolution from
our low beginnings. 1911 was no longer vulgar, but sweetly delicate. And every play
we have had since has led higher and higher. I think that was caused by what Bernhardt
or the younger Coquelin—a great friend of mine—said to me: “ You notice that I always act
in plays of strong moral tendencies. Always chose tojgive nice plays, Il faut que les jeunes
filles jouent toujours les saintes et les anges.”” Why, by the time we gave His Excellency,
Schmidty positively insisted on explaining that “this garment, though white, is a tea-
gown.” As for Press Cuttings, I expurgated whole hunks without being urged to more
than six or seven times by Charlotte, and being finally ordered to by the Seniors in the cast,
who had grown so squeamish that they declined to stay in the same play with some of
the questionable remarks. The triumph of our tribute to Mrs. Grundy came with the
presentation of our latest and last. Could any thing have been cuter, or more modest, than
that nightie of Hoffie’s, or Pinkie’s blue braces, so intensely admired by 1912, or the
obvious way in which I hugged Eggie?

Oh, 1911, if we have felt as we carted furniture, made the noises without, acted,
applauded and paid the bills, that plays are as integral a part of our life here as athletics