Part 16 (2/2)
”Yes, that's true, Sean, but this is a magic desert and we are freezing. So freeze, please. Right everyone, relax!”
”My Auntie June came out in blisters in Majorca,” the small girl informed me, nodding seriously.
”Freeze!” I barked and she turned to stone.
Until morning playtime I took the children through a series of different activities and they responded really well. We visited dark dungeons and dusty attics, braved storms and swam rivers, climbed mountains and crawled through caves, dug gardens and threaded needles a whole range of mimed performances which they clearly enjoyed undertaking. At break-time in the staff room, Sister Brendan seemed happy at the way things were going, as did Mon-signor Leonard.
' The children are doing very well,” commented the priest, taking a sip from a large mug of coffee. ”I wonder if I might remain for the rest of the morning to see how the work develops? I just need to drop Miss Fenoughty off in town but I'll be back, if that is all right.” Before I could answer, Miss Fenoughty, whose hearing seemed to have undergone a remarkable improvement, placed her cup down carefully before saying, ”I think I might stay, if that's all the same to you, Monsignor. I'm certainly enjoying this morning. It's better than the bingo.” Sister Brendan raised her eyes to heaven. ”Is there a biscuit to go with the coffee, Sister?” asked Miss Fenoughty sweetly.
I was feeling a great deal more confident after playtime. The children had been exemplary and taken part in the activities with genuine interest and excitement. I explained to them that we had used our bodies to mime various actions, our faces to express our feelings and now we were going to add some words. As the focus of our drama I picked the poem by Robert Browning, ”The Pied Piper of Hamelin'. The poem has fifteen long verses and, as I was limited for time and the text is sometimes quite difficult, I decided that I would read a little of the original to give the children a feel for the richness of the language but re-tell the story to move things along. The children gathered around me in a half-circle and I began.
Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover city; The river Weser, deep and wide, Washes its wall on the southern side; A pleas anter spot you never spied; But, when begins my ditty, Almost five hundred years ago, To see the townsfolk suffer so From vermin, was a pity.
Rats!
They fought the dogs, and killed the cats, And bit the babies in their cradles, And ate the cheeses out of vats, And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles, Split open kegs of salted sprats, Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats, By drowning their speaking With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats.
At this point I saw Father Leonard give Sister Brendan a knowing look before staring at Miss Fenoughty, who was sublimely oblivious to the unintended reference to her 'drowning their speaking in fifty different sharps and flats'. I then related the exciting story to my hushed and fascinated little audience: how the people crowded into the Council Chamber demanding action from the Mayor and Corporation, how the strange, tall figure with 'the sharp blue eyes and light loose hair', draped in his coat of yellow and red, agreed to rid the town of the rats for the sum of a thousand guilders, how he blew his pipe until his lips 'wrinkled' and the rats emerged.
And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, You heard as if an army muttered; And the muttering grew to a grumbling; And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling: And out of the houses the rats came tumbling. Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, Brown rats, black rats, great rats, tawny rats, Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, c.o.c.king tails and p.r.i.c.king whiskers .. .
I then told the children how the people rejoiced and how the piper danced on and on, playing his shrill notes, through the narrow streets and across the square, followed by a sea of squealing rats. I told them how he took the rats to the river's edge and described how the creatures desperately, blindly, hurled themselves into the murky waters. I told them how the Pied Piper came for his money and how the Mayor laughed in his face.
The children listened with wide eyes and open mouths when I related how the Pied Piper's face had darkened with anger and how he shook his fist at the city and the skies clouded over and an icy wind began to blow.
And so we came to the dramatic conclusion to the tale: how the Pied Piper lifted his pipe to his lips and blew three long clear notes. Then the children came out of the houses, laughing and chattering, lifting their little feet, skipping and running and dancing and clapping their hands. You could have heard a pin drop when I concluded the story of how the little children followed the strange man in his coat of yellow and red up to the mountainside where a great door opened and swallowed them all, all except for the little lame boy who was left behind.
Alas, alas for Hamelin!
There came into many a burgher's pate A text which says that heaven's gate Opes to the rich as at easy rate As the needle's eye takes a camel in!
”Now, there's a couple of difficult words in this verse,” I explained.” ”Pate” is the old word for head and a ”burgher” is-'
A boy with large, round eyes and equally large round gla.s.ses waved his hand madly in the air. ”Mr. Phinn! Mr. Phinn!” he cried. ”I know that. It's something you eat with chips. You can have chicken burgers beefburgers and hamburgers.”
Another child, with more interest in the impending lunch-time than the Pied Piper, enquired loudly if they were having burgers for dinner.
”That's another kind of burger,” I told her. ”In ”The Pied Piper”, a burgher is a sort of council official, a bit like a mayor, a very important person who makes all the laws. It was the burghers who refused to give the Pied Piper his thousand guilders.”
The children did not look as if they were any the wiser but I pressed on. I organised the children into various groups to act out scenes from the story: the scurrying, squeaking rats, the mothers and children, cooks and councillors, shopkeepers and chattering women, the Mayor and, of course, the Pied Piper. Everything seemed to be going smoothly.
Even the rather sad-looking girl, who asked me if she could be a cow rather than a rat, went away appeased when I explained that there were no cows in the story and she could be a cat. I asked several of the groups to perform their part of the poem for the others to watch. The children came out to the front of the hall just as the dinner ladies entered to set the tables out for dinner, the caretaker to help them, the crossing patrol warden to collect her ”Stop!” sign and a number of parents to wait for their children. The rear of the hall was full of interested adults who were obviously greatly entertained by the children's performances.
The last group was to act out that part of the story when the Mayor refuses to give the Pied Piper his thousand guilders. The little boy playing the Pied Piper was the child with the great, round eyes and enormous pair of gla.s.ses, who had volunteered the answer about the burghers earlier. Now, with all eyes upon him, he looked extremely shy and nervous. The Mayor was none other than Sean, and if he was nervous he certainly did not show it.
”Well, Pied Piper, what do you want?” he called confidently from the centre of the hall.
”I have come for my money,” mumbled the Pied Piper who had sidled nervously across the floor towards him.
”Well, you're not having it!” shouted the Mayor.
”OK,” said the Pied Piper and walked quickly away.
”No! No! No!” shouted the other child. ”That's not what you do!” He appealed to me. ”Mr. Phinn! Mr. Phinn! That's not right, is it? He wouldn't just say ”OK” and walk off, would he? He'd go barmy!” The little boy was getting into a real state himself, his face red with rage.
”Freeze!” I commanded. It was as if a magic spell had been put on him. The child was transformed and became completely motionless. ”Relax!” I turned to the child with the large gla.s.ses. ”You would get quite angry, you know,” I said. ”You have got rid of all the rats and the Mayor promised you the thousand guilders. Now he has refused to pay so you would not be very happy about that, would you?” The child shook his head. ”Let's try it again.”
For the second time the Mayor stood confidently in the centre of the hall. ”Well, Pied Piper, what do you want?” he demanded.
The Pied Piper moved across the hall to him. ”I have come for my money,” he said with not much more conviction than the previous effort.
”Well, you're not having it!” shouted the Mayor.
”Why?”
”Because you're not, that's why. I've changed my mind.”
”Go on, give me my money. You said you would.”
”Well, you're not having it!”
”But that's not fair.”
”Tough luck!”
”I'll blow my pipe then.”
”You can blow your pipe until you burst but you're not having any money and that's that!”
”OK then,” sighed the Pied Piper walking away, 'but you'll be sorry.”
Sean's face went crimson with fury. ”No! No! No!” he shouted again. ”That's not what you do!” He appealed to me for a second time. ”Mr. Phinn! Mr. Phinn! That's not right, is it? He's still saying ”OK” and walking away! He'd go bonkers!”
”Freeze!” I cried again. It was as if the child had been turned to stone. ”Relax! Now look, Pied Piper,” I said to the child with the large gla.s.ses, 'it was a lot better than last time but you do need to show how annoyed you are with the Mayor. Try again, and this time when you leave the Council Chamber, you must show how angry you are.”
The child stared up at me vacantly through the large gla.s.ses. ”Try and think of a time when you were mad with someone. Can you do that?” He nodded. ”Last go then, because it's nearly dinner-time.”
All faces were turned to the Pied Piper as he stamped into the Council Chamber. His eyes were now slits behind the large gla.s.ses, his lips were pressed tightly together, his little body looked stiff and he held up a fist threateningly.
”Well, Pied Piper, what do you want?” demanded the Mayor for the third time.
”I have come for my money,” shouted the Pied Piper.
”Well, you're not having it!” retorted the Mayor.
”Go on, give me my money. You said you would.”
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