Shenandoah | Page 3

She might be shocked, but couldn't "receive a shock." We
need free colloquial slang and common expressions; but while "get out"
seems all right from Stuyvesant to Bogardus, for Barry to say
"Skedadle" would put him in the 87th New York Vols., 1861-64. Yet I
doubt whether we have any more classic and revered slang than that
word.
The evident ease, yet thoroughness, with which Mr. Howard prepared
for his many tasks, is seen in his extended reading among Civil War
records, before writing "Shenandoah." The same "knowledge" sense
must have been a constant incentive to Professor Matthews, in the
preparation of "Peter Stuyvesant."
"The manual of arms," Howard declares, "is simply great. I think we

can get the muskets pointed at Barket in about 4 or 5 orders, however;
taking the more picturesque ones, so far as may be possible. I went over
the [State] librarian's letter with a nephew with the most modern of
military training: and as I was at a military school in 1860--just two
centuries after our period--we had fun together. Even with an old
muzzle loader--Scott's Tactics--it was "Load and fire in ten motions,"
now antiquated with the breech-loaders of to-day. The same operation,
in 1662, required 28 motions, as we counted. By the bye, did I tell you
that I found the flint-lock invented (in Spain) in 1625--and it "soon"
spread over Europe? I felt, however, that the intervening 37 years
would hardly have carried it to New Amsterdam; especially as the
colony was neglected in such matters."
From these excerpts it is apparent that Howard had no delusions
regarding the "work" side of the theatre; he was continually insisting
that dramatic art was dependent upon the artisan aspects which
underlay it. This he maintained, especially in contradiction to fictional
theories upheld by the adherents of W.D. Howells.
One often asks why a man, thus so serious and thorough in his
approach toward life, should have been so transitorily mannered in his
plays, and the reason may be in the very artisan character of his work.
Mr. Howard delivered a lecture before the Shakespeare Society of
Harvard University, at Sanders Theatre, in 1886 (later given, 1889,
before the Nineteenth Century Club, in New York), and he called it
"The Autobiography of a Play." In the course of it, he illustrated how,
in his own play, called "Lillian's Last Love," in 1873, which one year
later became "The Banker's Daughter," he had to obey certain unfailing
laws of dramatic construction during the alterations and re-writing. He
never stated a requirement he was not himself willing to abide by.
When he instructed the Harvard students, he was merely elucidating his
own theatre education. "Submit yourselves truly and unconditionally,"
he admonished, "to the laws of dramatic truth, so far as you can
discover them by honest mental exertion and observation. Do not
mistake any mere defiance of these laws for originality. You might as
well show your originality by defying the law of gravitation." Mr.
Howard was not one to pose as the oracle of a new technique; in this
essay he merely stated sincerely his experience in a craft, as a clinical
lecturer demonstrates certain established methods of treatment.

In his plays, vivacity and quick humour are the distinguishing
characteristics. Like his contemporary workers, he was alive to topics
of the hour, but, unlike them, he looked ahead, and so, as I have stated
in my "The American Dramatist," one can find profit in contrasting his
"Baron Rudolph" with Charles Klein's "Daughters of Men," his "The
Henrietta" with Klein's "The Lion and Mouse," and his "The Young
Mrs. Winthrop" with Alfred Sutro's "The Walls of Jericho." He was an
ardent reader of plays, as his library--bequeathed to the American
Dramatists Club, which he founded--bears witness. The fact is, he
studied Restoration drama as closely as he did the modern French stage.
How often he had to defend himself in the press from the accusation of
plagiarism, merely because he was complying with the stage
conventions of the moment!
It is unfortunate that his note-books are not available. But luckily he
wrote an article at one time which shows his method of thrashing out
the moral matrix of a scenario himself. It is called "Old Dry Ink."
Howard's irony slayed the vulgar, but, because in some quarters his
irony was not liked, he was criticized for his vulgarities. Archer, for
example, early laid this defect to the influence of the Wyndham policy,
in London, of courting blatant immorality in plays for the stage.
Howard's femininity, in comparison with Fitch's, was equally as
observant; it was not as literarily brilliant in its "small talk." But though
the effervescent chatter, handled with increasing dexterity by him, is
now old-fashioned, "Old Dry Ink" shows that the scenes in his plays
were