"Lexington": A Pageant-Drama of the American Freedom — Background and Themes

Allegory and Historical Figures

Howard places the allegorical figure Freedom onstage alongside historical actors such as Washington and Hamilton. In the excerpts, Freedom speaks directly to them, putting hands on their shoulders and looking into their eyes—a gesture that literalizes the abstract concept of liberty as a tangible presence. The Chronicler, a narrator figure, introduces each era with formal pronouncements: “The nation being established conceives the empire.” This triadic structure (allegorical figure, historical person, narrator) allows Howard to move between symbolic commentary and documented events without adhering to realistic drama. The effect is a staged meditation on national ideals rather than a plot-driven narrative.

Choral Interludes and Musical Direction

The Chorus and Choir provide lyrical commentary, often quoting or adapting familiar songs. In Part Three, the Choir sings “Pioneers! O Pioneers!”—a direct reference to Walt Whitman’s poem, linking westward expansion to a literary tradition of manifest destiny. Stage directions specify a “soft, wild march theme” as Freedom evokes the Western migration. Howard uses music to cue emotional transitions: the scene of Washington’s inauguration ends with “the frantic joy of the crowd and much singing of ‘Yankee Doodle,’” then the stage darkens as the Chronicler speaks. These musical cues are integral to the pageant’s rhythm, shaping audience response without relying on naturalistic dialogue.

Documentary Speech as Dramatic Text

Howard incorporates extended passages from Washington’s Farewell Address, including warnings against “the baneful effects of the spirit of party” and “overgrown military establishments.” These are spoken by Washington as the stage directions indicate that the people stand “absolutely still and unresponsive” in shadow. By isolating Washington’s words in a moment of stillness, Howard treats the historical text as a dramatic monologue, emphasizing its gravity. The Chronicler frames these speeches as counsel: “The counsel is spoken. The farewell remains.” This technique transforms archival material into theatrical performance, asking the audience to hear familiar words anew within a staged context.

Stage Directions as Choreographed Ritual

The stage directions in the excerpts are unusually detailed, specifying not only movement but also lighting and crowd behavior. For example, after Washington’s farewell, “Freedom puts her hands on the shoulders of Washington and Hamilton and looks into their eyes and the distant Chorus sings.” The scene ends with Freedom “last seen looking after them” as darkness takes the scene. These instructions create a choreographed, almost liturgical sequence. The pageant’s structure—with special nights dedicated to presidents, governors, and historical societies—further underscores its function as a community ritual. Howard’s directions treat the citizens of Lexington as performers, not just audience, reinforcing the pageant’s role in local commemorative practice.

Readers approaching this text should attend to its dual nature: it is both a script for performance and a document of early twentieth-century civic pageantry. Howard’s choices—allegorical figures, choral interludes, verbatim historical speeches—reveal an author working to make the past present through theatrical means. The excerpts offer only fragments of the full pageant, but they show a deliberate craft in blending documentary fidelity with symbolic staging. For those interested in how communities have dramatized national origins, this work provides a specific, localized example of that tradition.

I found Sidney Howard's Lexington pageant on a rainy afternoon, its choral voices and ritual scenes oddly moving in their earnestness. It made me think of another quiet drama I'd shelved nearby — one where enlightenment unfolds through dialogue rather than battle. Both feel like attempts to give form to inner awakenings, though one is public and the other profoundly still. The Buddha: A Drama in Five Acts and Four Interludes — Reading Companion stayed with me longer, perhaps because its silences spoke more gently.