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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29229-8.txt b/29229-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7985972 --- /dev/null +++ b/29229-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3523 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of André, by William Dunlap + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: André + +Author: William Dunlap + +Editor: Montrose J. Moses + +Release Date: June 26, 2009 [EBook #29229] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANDRÉ *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Brownfox and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES + +This e-book contains the text of _André_, extracted from Representative +Plays by American Dramatists: Vol 1, 1765-1819. Comments and background to +all the plays and the other plays are available at Project Gutenberg. + +Spelling as in the original has been preserved. + + + + +ANDRÉ + +_By_ + +WILLIAM DUNLAP + +[Illustration: WILLIAM DUNLAP] + + + + +WILLIAM DUNLAP: + +FATHER OF THE AMERICAN THEATRE + +(1766-1839) + + +The life of William Dunlap is full of colour and variety. Upon his +shoulders very largely rests the responsibility for whatever knowledge we +have of the atmosphere of the early theatre in America, and of the +personalities of the players. For, as a boy, his father being a Loyalist, +there is no doubt that young William used to frequent the play-house of +the Red Coats, and we would like to believe actually saw some of the +performances with which Major André was connected. + +He was born at Perth Amboy, then the seat of government for the Province +of New Jersey, on February 19, 1766 (where he died September 28, 1839), +and, therefore, as an historian of the theatre, he was able to glean his +information from first hand sources. Yet, his monumental work on the +"History of the American Theatre" was written in late years, when memory +was beginning to be overclouded, and, in recent times, it has been shown +that Dunlap was not always careful in his dates or in his statements. +George Seilhamer, whose three volumes, dealing with the American Theatre +before the year 1800, are invaluable, is particularly acrimonious in his +strictures against Dunlap. Nevertheless, he has to confess his +indebtedness to the Father of the American Theatre. + +Dunlap was many-sided in his tastes and activities. There is small reason +to doubt that from his earliest years the theatre proved his most +attractive pleasure. But, when he was scarcely in the flush of youth, he +went to Europe, and studied art under Benjamin West. Throughout his life +he was ever producing canvases, and designing, and his interest in the art +activity of the country, which connects his name with the establishment of +the New York Academy of Design, together with his writing on the subject, +make him an important figure in that line of work. + +On his return from Europe, as we have already noted, he was fired to write +plays through the success of Royall Tyler, and he began his long career as +dramatist, which threw him upon his own inventive resourcefulness, and so +closely identified him with the name of the German, Kotzebue, whose plays +he used to translate and adapt by the wholesale, as did also Charles +Smith. + +The pictures of William Dunlap are very careful to indicate in realistic +fashion the fact that he had but one eye. When a boy, one of his playmates +at school threw a stone, which hit his right eye. But though he was thus +early made single-visioned, he saw more than his contemporaries; for he +was a man who mingled much in the social life of the time, and he had a +variety of friends, among them Charles Brockden Brown, the novelist, and +George Frederick Cooke, the tragedian. He was the biographer for both of +them, and these volumes are filled with anecdote, which throws light, not +only on the subjects, but upon the observational taste of the writer. +There are those who claim that he was unjust to Cooke, making him more of +a drunkard than he really was. And the effect the book had on some of its +readers may excellently well be seen by Lord Byron's exclamation, after +having finished it. As quoted by Miss Crawford, in her "Romance of the +American Theatre," he said: "Such a book! I believe, since 'Drunken +Barnaby's Journal,' nothing like it has drenched the press. All green-room +and tap-room, drams and the drama. Brandy, whiskey-punch, and, latterly, +toddy, overflow every page. Two things are rather marvelous; first, that a +man should live so long drunk, and next that he should have found a sober +biographer." + +Dunlap's first play was called "The Modest Soldier; or, Love in New York" +(1787). We shall let him be his own chronicler: + + As a medium of communication between the playwriter and the + manager, a man was pointed out, who had for a time been of some + consequence on the London boards, and now resided under another + name in New York. This was the Dubellamy of the English stage, a + first singer and _walking-gentleman_. He was now past his + meridian, but still a handsome man, and was found sufficiently + easy of access and full of the courtesy of the old school. A + meeting was arranged at the City Tavern, and a bottle of Madeira + discussed with the merits of this first-born of a would-be + author. The wine was praised, and the play was praised--the + first, perhaps, made the second tolerable--that must be good + which can repay a man of the world for listening to an author + who reads his own play. + +In due course of time, the youthful playwright reached the presence of the +then all-powerful actors, Hallam and Henry, and, after some conference +with them, the play was accepted. But though accepted, it was not +produced, that auspicious occasion being deferred whenever the subject was +broached. At this time, young Dunlap was introduced to the stony paths of +playwriting. He had to alter his manuscript in many ways, only to see it +laid upon the shelf until some future occasion. And, according to his +confession, the reason the piece did not receive immediate production was +because there was no part which Henry, the six-foot, handsome idol of the +day, could see himself in to his own satisfaction. + +Dunlap's next play was "The Father; or, American Shandy-ism,"[1] which was +produced on September 7, 1789. It was published almost immediately, and +was later reprinted, under the title of "The Father of an Only Child." + +Most historians call attention to the fact that to Dunlap belongs the +credit of having first introduced to the American stage the German dialect +of the later Comedian. Even as we look to Tyler's "The Contrast" for the +first Yankee, to Samuel Low's "Politician Out-witted" for an early example +of Negro dialect, so may we trace other veins of American characteristics +as they appeared in early American dramas. + +But it is to "Darby's Return,"[2] the musical piece, that our interest +points, because it was produced for the benefit of Thomas Wignell, at the +New-York Theatre (November 24, 1789), and probably boasted among its +first-nighters George Washington. Writes Dunlap: + + The eyes of the audience were frequently bent on his + countenance, and to watch the emotions produced by any + particular passage upon him was the simultaneous employment of + all. When Wignell, as _Darby_, recounts what had befallen him in + America, in New York, at the adoption of the Federal + Constitution, and the inauguration of the President, the + interest expressed by the audience in the looks and the changes + of countenance of this great man became intense. + +And then there follows an indication by Dunlap of where Washington smiled, +and where he showed displeasure. And, altogether, there was much +perturbation of mind over every quiver of his eye-lash. The fact of the +matter is, as a playgoer, the Father of our Country figured quite as +constantly as the Father of our Theatre. When the seat of Government +changed from New York to Philadelphia, President Washington's love of the +theatre prompted many theatrical enterprises to follow in his wake, and we +have an interesting picture, painted in words by Seilhamer (ii, 316), of +the scene at the old Southwark on such an occasion. He says: + + [The President] frequently occupied the east stage-box, which + was fitted up expressly for his reception. Over the front of the + box was the United States coat-of-arms and the interior was + gracefully festooned with red drapery. The front of the box and + the seats were cushioned. According to John [_sic_] Durang, + Washington's reception at the theatre was always exceedingly + formal and ceremonious. A soldier was generally posted at each + stage-door; four soldiers were placed in the gallery; a military + guard attended. Mr. Wignell, in a full dress of black, with his + hair elaborately powdered in the fashion of the time, and + holding two wax candles in silver candle-sticks, was accustomed + to receive the President at the box-door and conduct Washington + and his party to their seats. Even the newspapers began to take + notice of the President's contemplated visits to the theatre. + +This is the atmosphere which must have attended the performance of +Dunlap's "Darby's Return." + +The play which probably is best known to-day, as by William Dunlap, is his +"André,"[3] in which Washington figures as the General, later to appear +under his full name, when Dunlap utilized the old drama in a manuscript +libretto, entitled "The Glory of Columbia--Her Yeomanry" (1817). The play +was produced on March 30, 1798, after Dunlap had become manager of the New +Park Theatre, within whose proscenium it was given. Professor Matthews, +editing the piece for the Dunlap Society (No. 4, 1887), claims that this +was the first drama acted in the United States during Washington's life, +in which he was made to appear on the stage of a theatre. But it must not +be forgotten that in "The Fall of British Tyranny," written in 1776, by +Leacock, Washington appears for the first time in any piece of American +fiction. Dunlap writes of the performance (American Theatre, ii, 20): + + The receipts were 817 dollars, a temporary relief. The play was + received with warm applause, until Mr. Cooper, in the character + of a young American officer, who had been treated as a brother + by André when a prisoner with the British, in his zeal and + gratitude, having pleaded for the life of the spy in vain, tears + the American cockade from his casque, and throws it from him. + This was not, perhaps could not be, understood by a mixed + assembly; they thought the country and its defenders insulted, + and a hiss ensued--it was soon quieted, and the play ended with + applause. But the feeling excited by the incident was propagated + out of doors. Cooper's friends wished the play withdrawn, on his + account, fearing for his popularity. However, the author made an + alteration in the incident, and subsequently all went on to the + end with applause. + +A scene from the last act of "André"[4] was produced at an American Drama +Matinée, under the auspices of the American Drama Committee of the Drama +League of America, New York Centre, on January 22nd and 23rd, 1917. There +are many Arnold and André plays, some of which have been noted by +Professor Matthews.[5] Another interesting historical study is the stage +popularity of Nathan Hale. + +We might go on indefinitely, narrating incidents connected with Dunlap as +citizen, painter, playwright, author, and theatrical manager, for within a +very short time he managed the John Street and New Park Theatres, retiring +for a while in 1805. + +But this is sufficient to illustrate the pioneer character of his work and +influence. Inaccurate he may have been in his "History of the American +Theatre," but the atmosphere is there, and he never failed to recognize +merit, and to give touches of character to the actors, without which our +impression of the early theatre in this country would be the poorer. The +name of William Dunlap is intimately associated with the beginnings of +American painting, American literary life and the American Theatre. It is +for these he will ever remain distinguished. + +As a playwright, he wrote so rapidly, and so constantly utilized over and +over again, not only his own material, but the materials of others, that +it is not surprising to find him often in dispute with dramatic authors +of the time. A typical disagreement occurred in the case of the actor John +Hodgkinson (1767-1805), whose drama, "The Man of Fortitude; or, the +Knight's Adventure," given at the John Street Theatre, on June 7, 1797, +was, according to Dunlap, based on his own one-act verse play, "The +Knight's Adventure," submitted to the actor some years before. + +Only the play, based on the 1798 edition, is here reproduced. The +authentic documents are omitted. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] The/Father;/or,/American Shandy-ism./A Comedy,/As performed at the +New-York Theatre,/By the/Old American Company./Written in the year +1788./With what fond hope, through many a blissful hour,/We give the soul +to Fancy's pleasing pow'r./Conquest of Canaan./New-York:/Printed by Hodge, +Allen & Campbell./ M, DCC, LXXXIX./ + +[2] Darby's Return:/A Comic Sketch,/As Performed at the New-York Theatre,/ +November 24, 1789,/For the Benefit of Mr. Wignell. Written by William +Dunlap./ New-York:/Printed by Hodge, Allen and Campbell./And Sold at their +respective Bookstores,/and by Berry and Rogers./M, DCC, LXXXIX./ + +[3] André;/A Tragedy, in Five Acts:/As Performed by the Old American +Company,/ New-York, March 30, 1798./To which are added,/Authentic +Documents/respecting/ Major André;/Consisting of/Letters to Miss +Seward,/The/Cow Chace,/Proceedings of the Court Martial, &c./Copy Right +Secured./New-York:/Printed by T. & J. Swords, No. 99 Pearl-street./1798./ + +[4] One of Dunlap's best-known tragedies was "Leicester," published by +David Longworth in 1807. + +[5] Freneau began a play, "The Spy" (Pattee, "Poems of Philip Freneau"), +in which André was a character. + + + + +[Illustration: + +ANDRE; + +A _TRAGEDY_, IN FIVE ACTS: + +AS PERFORMED BY THE OLD AMERICAN COMPANY, NEW-YORK, MARCH 30, 1798. + + +TO WHICH ARE ADDED + +AUTHENTIC DOCUMENTS + +RESPECTING + +_MAJOR ANDRE;_ + +CONSISTING OF + +LETTERS TO MISS SEWARD, + +THE + +COW CHACE, + +PROCEEDINGS OF THE COURT MARTIAL, &c. + + +_COPY RIGHT SECURED._ + + +NEW-YORK: + +Printed by T. & J. SWORDS. No. 99 Pearl-street. + +--1798.-- + +FAC-SIMILE TITLE-PAGE OF THE FIRST EDITION] + + + + +PREFACE + + +More than nine years ago the Author made choice of the death of Major +André as the Subject of a Tragedy, and part of what is now offered to the +public was written at that time. Many circumstances discouraged him from +finishing his Play, and among them must be reckoned a prevailing opinion +that recent events are unfit subjects for tragedy. These discouragements +have at length all given way to his desire of bringing a story on the +Stage so eminently fitted, in his opinion, to excite interest in the +breasts of an American audience. + +In exhibiting a stage representation of a real transaction, the +particulars of which are fresh in the minds of many of the audience, an +author has this peculiar difficulty to struggle with, that those who know +the events expect to see them _all_ recorded; and any deviation from what +they remember to be fact, appears to them as a fault in the poet; they are +disappointed, their expectations are not fulfilled, and the writer is more +or less condemned, not considering the difference between the poet and the +historian, or not knowing that what is intended to be exhibited is a free +poetical picture, not an exact historical portrait. + +Still further difficulties has the Tragedy of André to surmount, +difficulties independent of its own demerits, in its way to public favour. +The subject necessarily involves political questions; but the Author +presumes that he owes no apology to any one for having shewn himself an +American. The friends of Major André (and it appears that all who knew him +were his friends) will look with a jealous eye on the Poem, whose +principal incident is the sad catastrophe which his misconduct, in +submitting to be an instrument in a transaction of treachery and deceit, +justly brought upon him: but these friends have no cause of offence; the +Author has adorned the poetical character of André with every virtue; he +has made him his Hero; to do which, he was under the necessity of making +him condemn his own conduct, in the one dreadfully unfortunate action of +his life. To shew the effects which Major André's excellent qualities had +upon the minds of men, the Author has drawn a generous and amiable youth, +so blinded by his love for the accomplished Briton, as to consider his +country, and the great commander of her armies, as in the commission of +such horrid injustice, that he, in the anguish of his soul, disclaims the +service. In this it appears, since the first representation, that the +Author has gone near to offend the veterans of the American army who were +present on the first night, and who not knowing the sequel of the action, +felt much disposed to condemn him: but surely they must remember the +diversity of opinion which agitated the minds of men at that time, on the +question of the propriety of putting André to death; and when they add the +circumstances of André's having saved the life of this youth, and gained +his ardent friendship, they will be inclined to mingle with their +disapprobation, a sentiment of pity, and excuse, perhaps commend the Poet, +who has represented the action without sanctioning it by his approbation. + +As a sequel to the affair of the cockade, the Author has added the +following lines, which the reader is requested to insert, page 55, between +the 5th and 15th lines, instead of the lines he will find there, which +were printed before the piece was represented.[6]-- + +BLAND. + +Noble M'Donald, truth and honour's champion! +Yet think not strange that my intemperance wrong'd thee: +Good as thou art! for, would'st thou, canst thou, think it? +My tongue, unbridled, hath the same offence, +With action violent, and boisterous tone, +Hurl'd on that glorious man, whose pious labours +Shield from every ill his grateful country! +That man, whom friends to adoration love, +And enemies revere.--Yes, M'Donald, +Even in the presence of the first of men +Did I abjure the service of my country, +And reft my helmet of that glorious badge +Which graces even the brow of Washington. +How shall I see him more!-- + +M'DONALD. + +Alive himself to every generous impulse, +He hath excus'd the impetuous warmth of youth, +In expectation that thy fiery soul, +Chasten'd by time and reason, will receive +The stamp indelible of godlike virtue. +To me, in trust, he gave this badge disclaim'd, +With power, when thou shouldst see thy wrongful error, +From him, to reinstate it in thy helm, +And thee in his high favour. [_Gives the cockade._ + +BLAND [_takes the cockade and replaces it_]. + +Shall I speak my thoughts of thee and him? +No:--let my actions henceforth shew what thou +And he have made me. Ne'er shall my helmet +Lack again its proudest, noblest ornament, +Until my country knows the rest of peace, +Or Bland the peace of death! [_Exit._ + +This alteration, as well as the whole performance, on the second night, +met the warm approbation of the audience. + +To the performers the Author takes this opportunity of returning his +thanks for their exertions in his behalf; perfectly convinced, that on +this, as on former occasions, the members of the Old American Company have +anxiously striven to oblige him. + +If this Play is successful, it will be a proof that recent events may be +so managed in tragedy as to command popular attention; if it is +unsuccessful, the question must remain undetermined until some more +powerful writer shall again make the experiment. The Poem is now submitted +to the ordeal of closet examination, with the Author's respectful +assurance to every reader, that as it is not his interest, so it has not +been his intention, to offend any; but, on the contrary, to impress, +through the medium of a pleasing stage exhibition, the sublime lessons of +Truth and Justice upon the minds of his countrymen. + +W. DUNLAP. + +_New-York, April 4th, 1798._ + + + + +PROLOGUE + +SPOKEN BY MR. MARTIN. + + + A native Bard, a native scene displays, + And claims your candour for his daring lays: + Daring, so soon, in mimic scenes to shew, + What each remembers as a real woe. + Who has forgot when gallant ANDRÉ died? + A name by Fate to Sorrow's self allied. + Who has forgot, when o'er the untimely bier, + Contending armies paus'd, to drop a tear. + + Our Poet builds upon a fact tonight; + Yet claims, in building, every Poet's right; + To choose, embellish, lop, or add, or blend, + Fiction with truth, as best may suit his end; + Which, he avows, is pleasure to impart, + And move the passions but to mend the heart. + + Oh, may no party-spirit blast his views, + Or turn to ill the meanings of the Muse: + She sings of wrongs long past, Men as they were, + To instruct, without reproach, the Men that are; + Then judge the Story by the genius shewn, + And praise, or damn, it, for its worth alone. + + + + +CHARACTERS + + +GENERAL, _dress, American staff uniform, blue, faced with +buff, large gold epaulets, cocked hat, with the black and +white cockade, indicating the union with France, buff +waistcoat and breeches, boots,_ Mr. Hallam. + +M'DONALD, _a man of forty years of age, uniform nearly the +same of the first,_ Mr. Tyler. + +SEWARD, _a man of thirty years of age, staff uniform,_ Mr. Martin. + +ANDRÉ, _a man of twenty-nine years of age, full British +uniform after the first scene,_ Mr. Hodgkinson. + +BLAND, _a youthful but military figure, in the uniform of +a Captain of horse--dress, a short blue coat, faced with +red, and trimmed with gold lace, two small epaulets, a +white waistcoat, leather breeches, boots and spurs; over +the coat, crossing the chest from the right shoulder, a +broad buff belt, to which is suspended a manageable hussar +sword; a horseman's helmet on the head, decorated as +usual, and the union cockade affixed,_ Mr. Cooper. + +MELVILLE, _a man of middle age, and grave deportment; his +dress a Captain's uniform when on duty; a blue coat, with +red facings, gold epaulet, white waistcoat and breeches, +boots and cocked hat, with the union cockade,_ Mr. Williamson. + +BRITISH OFFICER, Mr. Hogg. + +AMERICAN OFFICER, Mr. Miller. + +CHILDREN, Master Stockwell and Miss Hogg. + +AMERICAN SERGEANT, Mr. Seymour. + +AMERICAN OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS, &c. + +MRS. BLAND, Mrs. Melmoth. + +HONORA, Mrs. Johnson. + +SCENE, the Village of Tappan, Encampment, and adjoining Country. Time, ten +hours. + + + + +ANDRÉ + +ACT I. + + +SCENE I. _A Wood seen by starlight; an Encampment at a distance appearing +between the trees._ + +_Enter MELVILLE._ + +MELVILLE. + +The solemn hour, "when night and morning meet," +Mysterious time, to superstition dear, +And superstition's guides, now passes by; +Deathlike in solitude. The sentinels, +In drowsy tones, from post to post, send on +The signal of the passing hour. "All's well," +Sounds through the camp. Alas! all is not well; +Else, why stand I, a man, the friend of man, +At midnight's depth, deck'd in this murderous guise, +The habiliment of death, the badge of dire, +Necessitous coercion. 'T is not well. +--In vain the enlighten'd friends of suffering man +Point out, of war, the folly, guilt, and madness. +Still, age succeeds to age, and war to war; +And man, the murderer, marshalls out his hosts +In all the gaiety of festive pomp, +To spread around him death and desolation. +How long! how long!---- +--Methinks I hear the tread of feet this way. +My meditating mood may work me woe. [_Draws._ +Stand, whoso'er thou art. Answer. Who's there? + +_Enter BLAND._ + +BLAND. + +A friend. + +MELVILLE. + +Advance and give the countersign. + +BLAND. + +Hudson. + +MELVILLE. + +What, Bland! + +BLAND. + +Melville, my friend, you _here_? + +MELVILLE. + +And _well_, my brave young friend. But why do you, +At this dead hour of night, approach the camp, +On foot, and thus alone? + +BLAND. + + I have but now +Dismounted; and, from yon sequester'd cot, +Whose lonely taper through the crannied wall +Sheds its faint beams, and twinkles midst the trees, +Have I, adventurous, grop'd my darksome way. +My servant, and my horses, spent with toil, +There wait till morn. + +MELVILLE. + + Why waited not yourself? + +BLAND. + +Anxious to know the truth of those reports +Which, from the many mouths of busy Fame, +Still, as I pass'd, struck varying on my ear, +Each making th' other void. Nor does delay +The colour of my hasteful business suit. +I bring dispatches for our great Commander; +And hasted hither with design to wait +His rising, or awake him with the sun. + +MELVILLE. + +You will not need the last, for the blest sun +Ne'er rises on his slumbers; by the dawn +We see him mounted gaily in the field, +Or find him wrapt in meditation deep, +Planning the welfare of our war-worn land. + +BLAND. + +Prosper, kind heaven! and recompense his cares. + +MELVILLE. + +You're from the South, if I presume aright? + +BLAND. + +I am; and, Melville, I am fraught with news? +The South teems with events; convulsing ones: +The Briton, there, plays at no mimic war; +With gallant face he moves, and gallantly is met. +Brave spirits, rous'd by glory, throng our camp; +The hardy hunter, skill'd to fell the deer, +Or start the sluggish bear from covert rude; +And not a clown that comes, but from his youth +Is trained to pour from far the leaden death, +To climb the steep, to struggle with the stream, +To labour firmly under scorching skies, +And bear, unshrinking, winter's roughest blast. +This, and that heaven-inspir'd enthusiasm +Which ever animates the patriot's breast, +Shall far outweigh the lack of discipline. + +MELVILLE. + +Justice is ours; what shall prevail against her? + +BLAND. + +But as I past along, many strange tales, +And monstrous rumours, have my ears assail'd: +That Arnold had prov'd false; but he was ta'en, +And hung, or to be hung--I know not what. +Another told, that all our army, with their +Much lov'd Chief, sold and betray'd, were captur'd. +But, as I nearer drew, at yonder cot, +'T was said, that Arnold, traitor like, had fled; +And that a Briton, tried and prov'd a spy, +Was, on this day, as such, to suffer death. + +MELVILLE. + +As you drew near, plain truth advanced to meet you. +'T is even as you heard, my brave young friend. +Never had people on a single throw +More interest at stake; when he, who held +For us the die, prov'd false, and play'd us foul. +But for a circumstance of that nice kind, +Of cause so microscopic, that the tongues +Of inattentive men call it the effect +Of chance, we must have lost the glorious game. + +BLAND. + +Blest, blest be heaven! whatever was the cause! + +MELVILLE. + +The blow ere this had fallen that would have bruis'd +The tender plant which we have striven to rear, +Crush'd to the dust, no more to bless this soil. + +BLAND. + +What warded off the blow? + +MELVILLE. + +The brave young man, who this day dies, was seiz'd +Within our bounds, in rustic garb disguis'd. +He offer'd bribes to tempt the band that seiz'd him; +But the rough farmer, for his country arm'd, +That soil defending which his ploughshare turn'd, +Those laws, his father chose, and he approv'd, +Cannot, as mercenary soldiers may, +Be brib'd to sell the public-weal for gold. + +BLAND. + +'T is well. Just heaven! O, grant that thus may fall +All those who seek to bring this land to woe! +All those, who, or by open force, or dark +And secret machinations, seek to shake +The Tree of Liberty, or stop its growth, +In any soil where thou hast pleas'd to plant it. + +MELVILLE. + +Yet not a heart but pities and would save him; +For all confirm that he is brave and virtuous; +Known, but till now, the darling child of Honour. + +BLAND [_contemptuously_]. + +And how is call'd this--honourable spy? + +MELVILLE. + +André's his name. + +BLAND [_much agitated_]. + + André! + +MELVILLE. + + Aye, Major André. + +BLAND. + +André! Oh no, my friend, you're sure deceiv'd-- +I'll pawn my life, my ever sacred fame, +My General's favour, or a soldier's honour, +That gallant André never yet put on +The guise of falsehood. Oh, it cannot be! + +MELVILLE. + +How might I be deceiv'd? I've heard him, seen him, +And what I tell, I tell from well-prov'd knowledge; +No second tale-bearer, who heard the news. + +BLAND. + +Pardon me, Melville. Oh, that well-known name, +So link'd with circumstances infamous!-- +My friend must pardon me. Thou wilt not blame +When I shall tell what cause I have to love him: +What cause to think him nothing more the pupil +Of Honour stern, than sweet Humanity. +Rememberest thou, when cover'd o'er with wounds, +And left upon the field, I fell the prey +Of Britain? To a loathsome prison-ship +Confin'd, soon had I sunk, victim of death, +A death of aggravated miseries; +But, by benevolence urg'd, this best of men, +This gallant youth, then favour'd, high in power, +Sought out the pit obscene of foul disease, +Where I, and many a suffering soldier lay, +And, like an angel, seeking good for man, +Restor'd us light, and partial liberty. +Me he mark'd out his own. He nurst and cur'd, +He lov'd and made his friend. I liv'd by him, +And in my heart he liv'd, till, when exchang'd, +Duty and honour call'd me from my friend.-- +Judge how my heart is tortur'd.--Gracious heaven! +Thus, thus to meet him on the brink of death-- +A death so infamous! Heav'n grant my prayer. [_Kneels._ +That I may save him, O, inspire my heart +With thoughts, my tongue with words that move to pity! [_Rises._ +Quick, Melville, shew me where my André lies. + +MELVILLE. + +Good wishes go with you. + +BLAND. + +I'll save my friend. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE, _the Encampment, by starlight._ + +_Enter the GENERAL, M'DONALD and SEWARD._ + +GENERAL. + +'T is well. Each sentinel upon his post +Stands firm, and meets me at the bayonet's point; +While in his tent the weary soldier lies, +The sweet reward of wholesome toil enjoying; +Resting secure as erst within his cot +He careless slept, his rural labour o'er; +Ere Britons dar'd to violate those laws, +Those boasted laws by which themselves are govern'd, +And strove to make their fellow-subjects slaves. + +SEWARD. + +They know to whom they owe their present safety. + +GENERAL. + +I hope they know that to themselves they owe it: +To that good discipline which they observe, +The discipline of men to order train'd, +Who know its value, and in whom 't is virtue: +To that prompt hardihood with which they meet +Or toil or danger, poverty or death. +Mankind who know not whence that spirit springs, +Which holds at bay all Britain's boasted power, +Gaze on their deeds astonish'd. See the youth +Start from his plough, and straightway play the hero; +Unmurmuring bear such toils as veterans shun; +Rest all content upon the dampsome earth; +Follow undaunted to the deathful charge; +Or, when occasion asks, lead to the breach, +Fearless of all the unusual din of war, +His former peaceful mates. O patriotism! +Thou wond'rous principle of god-like action! +Wherever liberty is found, there reigns +The love of country. Now the self-same spirit +Which fill'd the breast of great Leonidas, +Swells in the hearts of thousands on these plains, +Thousands who never heard the hero's tale. +'T is this alone which saves thee, O my country! +And, till that spirit flies these western shores, +No power on earth shall crush thee! + +SEWARD. + + 'T is wond'rous! +The men of other climes from this shall see +How easy 't is to shake oppression off; +How all resistless is an union'd people: +And hence, from our success (which, by my soul, +I feel as much secur'd, as though our foes +Were now within their floating prisons hous'd, +And their proud prows all pointing to the east), +Shall other nations break their galling fetters, +And re-assume the dignity of man. + +M'DONALD. + +Are other nations in that happy state, +That, having broke Coercion's iron yoke, +They can submit to Order's gentle voice, +And walk on earth self-ruled? I much do fear it. +As to ourselves, in truth, I nothing see, +In all the wond'rous deeds which we perform, +But plain effects from causes full as plain. +Rises not man for ever 'gainst oppression? +It is the law of life; he can't avoid it. +But when the love of property unites +With sense of injuries past, and dread of future. +Is it then wonderful, that he should brave +A lesser evil to avoid a greater? + +GENERAL [_sportively_]. + +'T is hard, quite hard, we may not please ourselves, +By our great deeds ascribing to our virtue. + +SEWARD. + +M'Donald never spares to lash our pride. + +M'DONALD. + +In truth I know of nought to make you proud. +I think there's none within the camp that draws +With better will his sword than does M'Donald. +I have a home to guard. My son is--butcher'd-- + +SEWARD. + +Hast thou no nobler motives for thy arms +Than love of property and thirst of vengeance? + +M'DONALD. + +Yes, my good Seward, and yet nothing wond'rous. +I love this country for the sake of man. +My parents, and I thank them, cross'd the seas, +And made me native of fair Nature's world, +With room to grow and thrive in. I have thriven; +And feel my mind unshackled, free, expanding, +Grasping, with ken unbounded, mighty thoughts, +At which, if chance my mother had, good dame, +In Scotia, our revered parent soil, +Given me to see the day, I should have shrunk +Affrighted. Now, I see in this new world +A resting spot for man, if he can stand +Firm in his place, while Europe howls around him, +And all unsettled as the thoughts of vice, +Each nation in its turn threats him with feeble malice. +One trial, now, we prove; and I have met it. + +GENERAL. + +And met it like a man, my brave M'Donald. + +M'DONALD. + +I hope so; and I hope my every act +Has been the offspring of deliberate judgment; +Yet, feeling second's reason's cool resolves. +Oh! I could hate, if I did not more pity, +These bands of mercenary Europeans, +So wanting in the common sense of nature, +As, without shame, to sell themselves for pelf, +To aid the cause of darkness, murder man-- +Without inquiry murder, and yet call +Their trade the trade of honour--high-soul'd honour-- +Yet honour shall accord in act with falsehood. +Oh, that proud man should e'er descend to play +The tempter's part, and lure men to their ruin! +Deceit and honour badly pair together. + +SEWARD. + +You have much shew of reason; yet, methinks +What you suggest of one, whom fickle Fortune, +In her changeling mood, hath hurl'd, unpitying, +From her topmost height to lowest misery, +Tastes not of charity. André, I mean. + +M'DONALD. + +I mean him, too; sunk by misdeed, not fortune. +Fortune and chance, Oh, most convenient words! +Man runs the wild career of blind ambition, +Plunges in vice, takes falsehood for his buoy, +And when he feels the waves of ruin o'er him, +Curses, in "good set terms," poor Lady Fortune. + +GENERAL [_sportively to SEWARD_]. + +His mood is all untoward; let us leave him. +Tho' he may think that he is bound to rail, +We are not bound to hear him. [_To M'DONALD._ +Grant you that? + +M'DONALD. + +Oh, freely, freely! you I never rail on. + +GENERAL. + +No thanks for that; you've courtesy for office. + +M'DONALD. + +You slander me. + +GENERAL. + + Slander that would not wound. +Worthy M'Donald, though it suits full well +The virtuous man to frown on all misdeeds; +Yet ever keep in mind that man is frail; +His tide of passion struggling still with Reason's +Fair and favourable gale, and adverse +Driving his unstable Bark upon the +Rocks of error. Should he sink thus shipwreck'd, +Sure it is not Virtue's voice that triumphs +In his ruin. I must seek rest. Adieu! + + [_Exeunt GENERAL and SEWARD._ + +M'DONALD. + +Both good and great thou art: first among men: +By nature, or by early habit, grac'd +With that blest quality which gives due force +To every faculty, and keeps the mind +In healthful equipoise, ready for action; +Invaluable temperance--by all +To be acquired, yet scarcely known to any. [_Exit._ + +_End of the First Act._ + + + + +ACT II. + + +SCENE, _a Prison._ + +_ANDRÉ, discovered in a pensive posture, sitting at a table; a book by + him and candles: his dress neglected, his hair dishevelled: he rises + and comes forward._ + +ANDRÉ. + +Kind heaven be thank'd for that I stand alone +In this sad hour of life's brief pilgrimage! +Single in misery; no one else involving, +In grief, in shame, and ruin. 'T is my comfort. +Thou, my thrice honour'd sire, in peace went'st down +Unto the tomb, nor knew to blush, nor knew +A pang for me! And thou, revered matron, +Couldst bless thy child, and yield thy breath in peace! +No wife shall weep, no child lament, my loss. +Thus may I consolation find in what +Was once my woe. I little thought to joy +In not possessing, as I erst possest, +Thy love, Honora! André's death, perhaps, +May cause a cloud pass o'er thy lovely face; +The pearly tear may steal from either eye; +For thou mayest feel a transient pang, nor wrong +A husband's rights: more than a transient pang +O mayest thou never feel! The morn draws nigh +To light me to my shame. Frail nature shrinks.-- +And _is_ death then so fearful? I have brav'd +Him, fearless, in the field, and steel'd my breast +Against his thousand horrors; but his cool, +His sure approach, requires a fortitude +Which nought but conscious rectitude can give. + + [_Retires, and sits leaning._ + +_Enter BLAND unperceived by ANDRÉ._ + +BLAND. + +And is that André! Oh, how chang'd! Alas! +Where is that martial fire, that generous warmth, +Which glow'd his manly countenance throughout, +And gave to every look, to every act, +The tone of high chivalrous animation?-- +André, my friend! look up. + +ANDRÉ. + + Who calls _me_ friend? + +BLAND. + +Young Arthur Bland. + +ANDRÉ [_rising_]. + + That name sounds like a friend's. [_With emotion._ +I have inquir'd for thee--wish'd much to see thee-- +I prithee take no note of these fool's tears-- +My heart was full--and seeing thee-- + +BLAND [_embracing him_]. + + O André!-- +I have but now arrived from the south-- +Nor heard--till now--of this--I cannot speak. +Is this a place?--Oh, thus to find my friend! + +ANDRÉ. + +Still dost thou call me friend? I, who dared act +Against my reason, my declared opinion; +Against my conscience, and a soldier's fame? +Oft in the generous heat of glowing youth, +Oft have I said how fully I despis'd +All bribery base, all treacherous tricks in war: +Rather my blood should bathe these hostile shores, +And have it said, "he died a gallant soldier," +Than with my country's gold encourage treason, +And thereby purchase gratitude and fame. + +BLAND. + +Still mayest thou say it, for thy heart's the same. + +ANDRÉ. + +Still is my heart the same: still may I say it: +But now my deeds will rise against my words; +And should I dare to talk of honest truth, +Frank undissembling probity and faith, +Memory would crimson o'er my burning cheek, +And actions retrospected choke the tale. +Still is my heart the same. But there has past +A day, an hour--which ne'er can be recall'd! +Unhappy man! tho' all thy life pass pure; +Mark'd by benevolence thy every deed; +The out-spread map, which shews the way thou'st trod, +Without one devious track, or doubtful line; +It all avails thee nought, if in one hour, +One hapless hour, thy feet are led astray;-- +Thy happy deeds, all blotted from remembrance; +Cancel'd the record of thy former good. +Is it not hard, my friend? Is 't not unjust? + +BLAND. + +Not every record cancel'd--Oh, there are hearts, +Where Virtue's image, when 't is once engrav'd, +Can never know erasure. + +ANDRÉ. + + Generous Bland! [_Takes his hand._ +The hour draws nigh which ends my life's sad story. +I should be firm-- + +BLAND. + + By heaven thou shalt not die! +Thou dost not sure deserve it. Betray'd, perhaps-- +Condemn'd without due circumstance made known? +Thou didst not mean to tempt our officers? +Betray our yeoman soldiers to destruction? +Silent. Nay, then 't was from a duteous wish +To serve the cause thou wast in honour bound-- + +ANDRÉ. + +Kind is my Bland, who to his generous heart, +Still finds excuses for his erring friend. +Attentive hear and judge me.-- +Pleas'd with the honours daily shower'd upon me, +I glow'd with martial heat, my name to raise +Above the vulgar herd, who live to die, +And die to be forgotten. Thus I stood, +When, avarice or ambition Arnold tempted, +His country, fame, and honour to betray; +Linking his name to infamy eternal. +In confidence it was to be propos'd, +To plan with him the means which should ensure +Thy country's downfall. Nothing then I saw +But confidential favour in the service, +My country's glory, and my mounting fame; +Forgot my former purity of thought, +And high-ton'd honour's scruples disregarded. + +BLAND. + +It was thy duty so to serve thy country. + +ANDRÉ. + +Nay, nay; be cautious ever to admit +That duty can beget dissimulation. +On ground, unoccupied by either part, +Neutral esteem'd, I landed, and was met. +But ere my conference was with Arnold clos'd, +The day began to dawn: I then was told +That till the night I must my safety seek +In close concealment. Within your posts convey'd, +I found myself involv'd in unthought dangers. +Night came. I sought the vessel which had borne +Me to the fatal spot; but she was gone. +Retreat that way cut off, again I sought +Concealment with the traitors of your army. +Arnold now granted passes, and I doff'd +My martial garb, and put on curs'd disguise! +Thus in a peasant's form I pass'd your posts; +And when, as I conceiv'd, my danger o'er, +Was stopt and seiz'd by some returning scouts. +So did ambition lead me, step by step, +To treat with traitors, and encourage treason; +And then, bewilder'd in the guilty scene, +To quit my martial designating badges, +Deny my name, and sink into the spy. + +BLAND. + +Thou didst no more than was a soldier's duty, +To serve the part on which he drew his sword. +Thou shalt not die for this. Straight will I fly-- +I surely shall prevail-- + +ANDRÉ. + + It is in vain. +All has been tried. Each friendly argument-- + +BLAND. + +All has not yet been tried. The powerful voice +Of friendship in thy cause, has not been heard. +My General favours _me_, and loves my father-- +My gallant father! would that he were here! +But he, perhaps, now wants an André's care, +To cheer his hours--perhaps, now languishes +Amidst those horrors whence thou sav'd'st his son! +The present moment claims my thought. André-- +I fly to save thee!-- + +ANDRÉ. + + Bland, it is in vain. +But, hold--there is a service thou may'st do me. + +BLAND. + +Speak it. + +ANDRÉ. + + Oh, think, and as a soldier think, +How I must die--The _manner_ of my death-- +Like the base ruffian, or the midnight thief, +Ta'en in the act of stealing from the poor, +To be turn'd off the felon's--murderer's cart, +A mid-air spectacle to gaping clowns:-- +To run a short, an envied course of glory, +And end it on a gibbet.---- + +BLAND. + + Damnation!! + +ANDRÉ. + +Such is my doom. Oh! have the manner changed, +And of mere death I'll think not. Dost thou think--? +Perhaps thou canst gain _that_----? + +BLAND [_almost in a frenzy_]. + + Thou shalt not die! + +ANDRÉ. + +Let me, Oh! let me die a soldier's death, +While friendly clouds of smoke shroud from all eyes +My last convulsive pangs, and I'm content. + +BLAND [_with increasing emotion_]. + +Thou shalt not die! Curse on the laws of war!-- +If worth like thine must thus be sacrificed, +To policy so cruel and unjust, +I will forswear my country and her service: +I'll hie me to the Briton, and with fire, +And sword, and every instrument of death +Or devastation, join in the work of war! +What, shall worth weigh for nought? I will avenge thee! + +ANDRÉ. + +Hold, hold, my friend; thy country's woes are full. +What! wouldst thou make me cause another traitor? +No more of this; and, if I die, believe me, +Thy country for my death incurs no blame. +Restrain thy ardour--but ceaselessly intreat, +That André may at least die as he lived, +A soldier. + +BLAND. + + By heaven thou shalt not die!-- + +[_BLAND rushes off: ANDRÉ looks after him with an expression of love + and gratitude, then retires up the stage. Scene closes._] + + +SCENE, _the GENERAL'S Quarters._ + +_Enter M'DONALD and SEWARD, in conversation._ + +M'DONALD [_coming forward_]. + +Three thousand miles the Atlantic wave rolls on, +Which bathed Columbia's shores, ere, on the strand +Of Europe, or of Afric, their continents, +Or sea-girt isles, it chafes.-- + +SEWARD. + + Oh! would to heaven +That in mid-way between these sever'd worlds, +Rose barriers, all impassable to man, +Cutting off intercourse, till either side +Had lost all memory of the other! + +M'DONALD. + +What spur now goads thy warm imagination? + +SEWARD. + +Then might, perhaps, one land on earth be found, +Free from th' extremes of poverty and riches; +Where ne'er a scepter'd tyrant should be known, +Or tyrant lordling, curses of creation;-- +Where the faint shrieks of woe-exhausted age, +Raving, in feeble madness, o'er the corse +Of a polluted daughter, stained by lust +Of viand-pamper'd luxury, might ne'er be heard;-- +Where the blasted form of much abused +Beauty, by villainy seduced, by knowledge +All unguarded, might ne'er be view'd, flitting +Obscene, 'tween lamp and lamp, i' th' midnight street +Of all defiling city; where the child---- + +M'DONALD. + +Hold! Shroud thy raven imagination! +Torture not me with images so curst! + +SEWARD. + +Soon shall our foes, inglorious, fly these shores. +Peace shall again return. Then Europe's ports +Shall pour a herd upon us, far more fell +Than those, her mercenary sons, who, now, +Threaten our sore chastisement. + +M'DONALD. + + Prophet of ill, +From Europe shall enriching commerce flow, +And many an ill attendant; but from thence +Shall likewise flow blest Science. Europe's knowledge, +By sharp experience bought, we should appropriate; +Striving thus to leap from that simplicity, +With ignorance curst, to that simplicity, +By knowledge blest; unknown the gulf between. + +SEWARD. + +Mere theoretic dreaming! + +M'DONALD. + + Blest wisdom +Seems, from out the chaos of the social world, +Where good and ill, in strange commixture, float, +To rise, by strong necessity, impell'd; +Starting, like Love divine, from womb of Night, +Illuming all, to order all reducing; +And shewing, by its bright and noontide blaze, +That happiness alone proceeds from justice. + +SEWARD. + +Dreams, dreams! Man can know nought but ill on earth. + +M'DONALD. + +I'll to my bed, for I have watch'd all night; +And may my sleep give pleasing repetition +Of these my waking dreams! Virtue's incentives. [_Exit._ + +SEWARD. + +Folly's chimeras rather: guides to error. + +_Enter BLAND, preceded by a SERGEANT._ + +SERGEANT. + +Pacquets for the General. [_Exit._ + +BLAND. + + Seward, my friend! + +SEWARD. + +Captain! I'm glad to see the hue of health +Sit on a visage from the sallow south. + +BLAND. + +The lustihood of youth hath yet defied +The parching sun, and chilling dew of even. +The General--Seward--? + +SEWARD. + + I will lead you to him. + +BLAND. + +Seward, I must make bold. Leave us together, +When occasion offers. 'T will be friendly. + +SEWARD. + +I will not cross your purpose. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE, _A Chamber._ + +_Enter MRS. BLAND._ + +MRS. BLAND. + +Yes, ever be this day a festival +In my domestic calendar. This morn +Will see my husband free. Even now, perhaps, +Ere yet Aurora flies the eastern hills, +Shunning the sultry sun, my Bland embarks. +Already, on the Hudson's dancing wave, +He chides the sluggish rowers, or supplicates +For gales propitious; that his eager arms +May clasp his wife, may bless his little ones. +Oh! how the tide of joy makes my heart bound, +Glowing with high and ardent expectation! + +_Enter two CHILDREN._ + +1st CHILD. + +Here we are, Mama, up, and dress'd already. + +MRS. BLAND. + +And why were ye so early? + +1st CHILD. + +Why, did not you tell us that Papa was to be home to-day? + +MRS. BLAND. + +I said, perhaps. + +2nd CHILD [_disappointed_]. + +Perhaps! + +1st CHILD. + +I don't like perhaps's. + +2nd CHILD. + +No, nor I neither; nor "may be so's." + +MRS. BLAND. + +We make not certainties, my pretty loves; +I do not like "perhaps's" more than you do. + +2nd CHILD. + +Oh! don't say so, Mama! for I'm sure I hardly ever ask you anything but +you answer me with "may be so," "perhaps,"--or "very likely." "Mama, shall +I go to the camp to-morrow, and see the General?" "May be so, my dear." +Hang "may be so," say I. + +MRS. BLAND. + +Well said, Sir Pertness. + +1st CHILD. + +But I am sure, Mama, you said, that, to-day, Papa would have his liberty. + +MRS. BLAND. + +So, your dear father, by his letters, told me. + +2nd CHILD. + +Why, then, I _am sure_ he will be here to-day. When he can come _to us_, +I'm sure he will not stay among those strange Englishmen and Hessians. I +often wish'd that I had wings to fly, for then I would soon be with him. + +MRS. BLAND. + +Dear boy! + +_Enter SERVANT and gives a letter to MRS. BLAND._ + +SERVANT. + +An express, madam, from New-York to Headquarters, in passing, delivered +this. + +2nd CHILD. + +Papa's coming home to-day, John. + + [_Exeunt SERVANT and CHILDREN._ + +MRS. BLAND. + +What fears assail me! Oh! I did not want +A letter now! [_She reads in great agitation, exclaiming, while her eyes +are fixed on the paper._] +My husband! doom'd to die! Retaliation! + [_She looks forward with wildness, consternation and horror._ +To die, if André dies! He dies to-day!-- +My husband to be murdered! And to-day! +To-day, if André dies! Retaliation! +O curst contrivance!--Madness relieve me! +Burst, burst, my brain!--Yet--André is not dead: +My husband lives. [_Looks at the letter._] "One man has power." +I fly to save the father of my children! + + [_Rushes out._ + +_End of the Second Act._ + + + + +ACT III. + + +SCENE, _the GENERAL'S Quarters._ + +_The GENERAL and BLAND come forward._ + +GENERAL [_papers in his hand_]. + +Captain, you are noted here with honourable +Praises. Depend upon that countenance +From me, which you have prov'd yourself so richly +Meriting. Both for your father's virtues, +And your own, your country owes you honour-- +The sole return the poor can make for service. + +BLAND. + +If from my country ought I've merited, +Or gain'd the approbation of her champion, +At any other time, I should not dare, +Presumptuously, to shew my sense of it; +But now, my tongue, all shameless, dares to name +The boon, the precious recompense, I wish, +Which, granted, pays all service, past or future, +O'erpays the utmost I can e'er achieve. + +GENERAL. + +Brief, my young friend, briefly, your purpose. + +BLAND. + +If I have done my duty as a soldier; +If I have brav'd all dangers for my country; +If my brave father has deserved ought; +Call all to mind--and cancel all--but grant +My one request--mine, and humanity's. + +GENERAL. + +Be less profuse of words, and name your wish; +If fit, its fitness is the best assurance +That not in vain you sue; but, if unjust, +Thy merits, nor the merits of thy race, +Cannot its nature alter, nor my mind, +From its determined opposition change. + +BLAND. + +You hold the fate of my most lov'd of friends; +As gallant soldier as e'er faced a foe, +Bless'd with each polish'd gift of social life, +And every virtue of humanity. +To me, a saviour from the pit of death, +To me, and many more my countrymen. +Oh! could my words portray him what he is; +Bring to your mind the blessings of his deeds, +While thro' the fever-heated, loathsome holds, +Of floating hulks, dungeons obscene, where ne'er +The dewy breeze of morn, or evening's coolness, +Breath'd on our parching skins, he pass'd along, +Diffusing blessings; still his power exerting, +To alleviate the woes which ruthless war, +Perhaps, thro' dire necessity, heap'd on us; +Surely, the scene would move you to forget +His late intent--(tho' only serving then, +As duty prompted)--and turn the rigour +Of War's iron law from him, the best of men, +Meant only for the worst. + +GENERAL. + + Captain, no more. + +BLAND. + +If André lives, the prisoner finds a friend; +Else helpless and forlorn-- +All men will bless the act, and bless thee for it. + +GENERAL. + +Think'st thou thy country would not curse the man, +Who, by a clemency ill-tim'd, ill-judg'd, +Encourag'd treason? That _pride_ encourag'd, +Which, by denying us the rights of nations, +Hath caus'd those ills which thou hast now portray'd? +Our prisoners, brave and generous peasantry, +As rebels have been treated, not as men. +'T is mine, brave yeomen, to assert your rights; +'T is mine to teach the foe, that, though array'd +In rude simplicity, ye, yet, are men, +And rank among the foremost. Oft their scouts, +The very refuse of the English arms, +Unquestion'd, have our countrymen consign'd +To death, when captur'd, mocking their agonies. + +BLAND. + +Curse them! [_Checking himself._] Yet let not censure fall on André. +Oh, there are Englishmen as brave, as good, +As ever land on earth might call its own; +And gallant André is among the best! + +GENERAL. + +Since they have hurl'd war on us, we must shew +That by the laws of war we will abide; +And have the power to bring their acts for trial, +To that tribunal, eminent 'mongst men, +Erected by the policy of nations, +To stem the flood of ills, which else fell war +Would pour, uncheck'd, upon the sickening world, +Sweeping away all trace of civil life. + +BLAND. + +To pardon him would not encourage ill. +His case is singular: his station high; +His qualities admired; his virtues lov'd. + +GENERAL. + +No more, my good young friend: it is in vain. +The men entrusted with thy country's rights +Have weigh'd, attentive, every circumstance. +An individual's virtue is, by them, +As highly prized as it can be by thee. +I know the virtues of this man, and love them. +But the destiny of millions, millions +Yet unborn, depends upon the rigour +Of this moment. The haughty Briton laughs +To scorn our armies and our councils. Mercy, +Humanity, call loudly, that we make +Our now despised power be felt, vindictive. +Millions demand the death of this young man. +My injur'd country, he his forfeit life +Must yield, to shield thy lacerated breast +From torture. [_To BLAND._] Thy merits are not overlook'd. +Promotion shall immediately attend thee. + +BLAND [_with contemptuous irony_]. + +Pardon me, sir, I never shall deserve it. +[_With increasing heat._] The country that forgets to reverence virtue; +That makes no difference 'twixt the sordid wretch, +Who, for reward, risks treason's penalty, +And him unfortunate, whose duteous service +Is, by mere accident, so chang'd in form, +As to assume guilt's semblance, I serve not: +Scorn to serve. I have a soldier's honour, +But 't is in union with a freeman's judgment, +And when I act, both prompt. Thus from my helm +I tear, what once I proudly thought, the badge +Of virtuous fellowship. [_Tears the cockade from his helmet._] + My sword I keep. [_Puts on his helmet._] +Would, André, thou hadst never put thine off! +Then hadst thou through opposers' hearts made way +To liberty, or bravely pierc'd thine own! [_Exit._ + +GENERAL. + +Rash, headstrong, maddening boy! +Had not this action past without a witness, +Duty would ask that thou shouldst rue thy folly-- +But, for the motive, be the deed forgotten. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE, _a Village._ + +_At a distance some tents. In front muskets, drums, and other + indications of soldiers' quarters._ + +_Enter MRS. BLAND and CHILDREN, attended by MELVILLE._ + +MELVILLE. + +The General's doors to you are ever open. +But why, my worthy friend, this agitation? +Our Colonel, your husband---- + +MRS. BLAND [_in tears, gives him the letter_]. + +Read, Melville. + +1st CHILD. + +Do not cry, Mama, for I'm sure if Papa said he would come home to-day he +will come yet: for he always does what he says he will. + +MRS. BLAND. + +He cannot come, dear love; they will not let him. + +2nd CHILD. + +Why, then, they told him lies. Oh, fie upon them! + +MELVILLE [_returning the letter_]. + +Fear nothing, Madam, 't is an empty threat: +A trick of policy. They dare not do it. + +MRS. BLAND. + +Alas! alas! what dares not power to do? +What art of reasoning, or what magic words, +Can still the storm of fears these lines have rais'd? +The wife's, the mother's fears? Ye innocents, +Unconscious on the brink of what a perilous +Precipice ye stand, unknowing that to-day +Ye are cast down the gulf, poor babes, ye weep +From sympathy. Children of sorrow, nurst, +Nurtur'd, midst camps and arms; unknowing man, +But as man's fell destroyer; must ye now, +To crown your piteous fate, be fatherless? +O, lead me, lead me to him! Let me kneel, +Let these, my children, kneel, till André, pardon'd, +Ensures to me a husband, them a father. + +MELVILLE. + +Madam, duty forbids further attendance. +I am on guard to-day. But see your son; +To him I leave your guidance. Good wishes +Prosper you! [_Exit MELVILLE._ + +_Enter BLAND._ + +MRS. BLAND. + + My Arthur, O my Arthur! + +BLAND. + +My mother! [_Embracing her._ + +MRS. BLAND. + + My son, I have been wishing +For you---- [_Bursts into tears, unable to proceed._ + +BLAND. + +But whence this grief, these tears, my mother? +Why are these little cheeks bedew'd with sorrow? + [_He kisses the children, who exclaim_, Brother, brother! +Have I done ought to cause a mother's sadness? + +MRS. BLAND. + +No, my brave boy! I oft have fear'd, but never +Sorrow'd for thee. + +BLAND. + +High praise!--Then bless me, Madam; +For I have pass'd through many a bustling scene +Since I have seen a father or a mother. + +MRS. BLAND. + +Bless thee, my boy! O bless him, bless him, Heaven! +Render him worthy to support these babes! +So soon, perhaps, all fatherless--dependent.-- + +BLAND. + +What mean'st thou, madam? Why these tears? + +MRS. BLAND. + + Thy father---- + +BLAND. + +A prisoner of war--I long have known it-- +But made so without blemish to his honour, +And soon exchang'd, returns unto his friends, +To guard these little ones, and point and lead, +To virtue and to glory. + +MRS. BLAND. + + Never, never! +His life, a sacrifice to André's _manes_,[7] +Must soon be offer'd. Even now, endungeon'd, +Like a vile felon, on the earth he lies, +His death expecting. André's execution +Gives signal for the murder of thy father-- +André now dies!-- + +BLAND [_despairingly_]. + + My father and my friend!! + +MRS. BLAND. + +There is but one on earth can save my husband-- +But one can pardon André. + +BLAND. + + Haste, my mother! +Thou wilt prevail. Take with thee in each hand +An unoffending child of him thou weep'st. +Save--save them both! This way--haste--lean on me. + [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE, _the GENERAL'S Quarters._ + +_Enter the GENERAL and M'DONALD._ + +GENERAL. + +_Here_ have I intimation from the foe, +That still they deem the spy we have condemn'd, +Merely a captive; by the laws of arms +From death protected; and retaliation, +As they term it, threaten, if we our purpose hold. +Bland is the victim they have singled out, +Hoping his threaten'd death will André save. + +M'DONALD. + +If I were Bland I boldly might advise +My General how to act. Free, and in safety, +I will now suppose my counsel needless. + +_Enter an AMERICAN OFFICER._ + +OFFICER. + +Another flag hath from the foe arriv'd, +And craves admittance. + +GENERAL. + + Conduct it hither. [_Exit OFFICER._ +Let us, unwearied hear, unbias'd judge, +Whate'er against our martial court's decision, +Our enemies can bring. + +_Enter BRITISH OFFICER, conducted by the AMERICAN OFFICER._ + +GENERAL. + + You are welcome, sir. +What further says Sir Henry? + +BRITISH OFFICER. + + This from him. +He calls on you to think what weighty woes +You now are busy bringing on your country. +He bids me say, that, if your sentence reach +The prisoner's life (prisoner of arms he deems him, +And no spy), on him alone it falls not. +He bids me loud proclaim it, and declare, +If this brave officer, by cruel mockery +Of war's stern law, and justice's feign'd pretence, +Be murder'd; the sequel of our strife, bloody, +Unsparing and remorseless, _you_ will make. +Think of the many captives in our power. +Already one is mark'd; for André mark'd;-- +And when his death, unparallel'd in war, +The signal gives, then Colonel Bland must die. + +GENERAL. + +'T is well, sir; bear this message in return. +Sir Henry Clinton knows the laws of arms: +He is a soldier, and, I think, a brave one. +The prisoners he retains he must account for. +Perhaps the reckoning's near. I, likewise, am +A soldier; entrusted by my country. +What I shall judge most for that country's good, +That shall I do. When doubtful, I consult +My country's friends; never her enemies. +In André's case there are no doubts: 't is clear: +Sir Henry Clinton knows it. + +BRITISH OFFICER. + + Weigh consequences. + +GENERAL. + +In strict regard to consequence I act; +And much should doubt to call that action right, +However specious, whose apparent end +Was misery to man. That brave officer +Whose death you threaten, for himself drew not +His sword--his country's wrongs arous'd his mind; +Her good alone his aim; and if his fall +Can further fire that country to resistance, +He will, with smiles, yield up his glorious life, +And count his death a gain; and tho' Columbians +Will lament his fall, they will lament in blood. + [_GENERAL walks up the stage._ + +M'DONALD. + +Hear this! hear this, mankind! + +BRITISH OFFICER. + + Thus am I answered? + +_Enter a SERGEANT with a letter._ + +SERGEANT. + +Express from Colonel Bland. [_Delivers it and exit._ + +GENERAL. + + With your permission. [_Opens it._ + +BRITISH OFFICER. + +Your pleasure, sir. It may my mission further. + +M'DONALD. + +O, Bland! my countryman, surely I know thee! + +GENERAL. + +'T is short: I will put form aside, and read it. + +[_Reads._] "Excuse me, my Commander, for having a moment doubted your +virtue: but you love me. If you waver, let this confirm you. My wife and +children, to you and my country. Do _your_ duty." Report this to your +General. + +BRITISH OFFICER. + + I shall, sir. + [_Bows, and exit with AMERICAN OFFICER._ + +GENERAL. + +O, Bland! my countryman! [_Exit with emotion._ + +M'DONALD. + + Triumph of virtue! +Like him and thee, still be Americans. +Then, tho' all-powerful Europe league against us, +And pour in arms her legions on our shores; +Who is so dull would doubt their shameful flight? +Who doubt our safety, and our glorious triumph? + + +SCENE, _the Prison._ + +_Enter BLAND._ + +BLAND. + +Lingering, I come to crush the bud of hope +My breath has, flattering, to existence warm'd. +Hard is the task to friendship! hard to say, +To the lov'd object there remains no hope, +No consolation for thee; thou _must_ die; +The worst of deaths; no circumstance abated. + +_Enter ANDRÉ in his uniform, and dress'd._ + +ANDRÉ. + +Is there that state on earth which friendship cannot cheer? + +BLAND. + +Little _I_ bring to cheer thee, André. + +ANDRÉ. + +I understand. 'T is well. 'T will soon be past. +Yet, 't was not much I ask'd. A soldier's death. +A trifling change of form. + +BLAND. + + Of that I spoke not. +By vehemence of passion hurried on, +I pleaded for thy precious life alone; +The which denied, my indignation barr'd +All further parley. But strong solicitation +Now is urg'd to gain the wish'd-for favour. + +ANDRÉ. + +What is 't o'clock? + +BLAND. + + 'T is past the stroke of nine. + +ANDRÉ. + +Why, then, 't is almost o'er. But to be hung-- +Is there no way to escape that infamy? +What then _is_ infamy?--no matter--no matter. + +BLAND. + +Our General hath received another flag. + +ANDRÉ. + +Soliciting for me? + +BLAND. + + On thy behalf. + +ANDRÉ. + +I have been ever favour'd. + +BLAND. + + Threat'nings, now; +No more solicitations. Harsh, indeed, +The import of the message: harsh, indeed. + +ANDRÉ. + +I am sorry for it. Would that I were dead, +And all was well with those I leave behind. + +BLAND. + +Such a threat! Is it not enough, just heaven, +That I must lose this man? Yet there was left +One for my soul to rest on. But, to know +That the same blow deprives them both of life-- + +ANDRÉ. + +What mean'st thou, Bland? Surely my General +Threats not retaliation. In vengeance, +Dooms not some better man to die for me? + +BLAND. + +The best of men. + +ANDRÉ. + + Thou hast a father, captive-- +I dare not ask-- + +BLAND. + + That father dies for thee. + +ANDRÉ. + +Gracious heaven! how woes are heap'd upon me! +What! cannot one, so trifling in life's scene, +Fall, without drawing such a ponderous ruin? +Leave me, my friend, awhile--I yet have life-- +A little space of life--let me exert it +To prevent injustice:--From death to save +Thy father, thee to save from utter desolation. + +BLAND. + +What mean'st thou, André? + +ANDRÉ. + + Seek thou the messenger +Who brought this threat. I will my last entreaty +Send by him. My General, sure, will grant it. + +BLAND. + +To the last thyself! [_Exit._ + +ANDRÉ. + + If, at this moment, +When the pangs of death already touch me, +Firmly my mind against injustice strives, +And the last impulse to my vital powers +Is given by anxious wishes to redeem +My fellowmen from pain; surely my end, +Howe'er accomplished, is not infamous. [_Exit._ + +_End of the Third Act._ + + + + +ACT IV. + + +SCENE, _the Encampment._ + +_Enter M'DONALD and BLAND._ + +BLAND. + +It doth in truth appear, that as a--spy-- +Detested word!--brave André must be view'd. +His sentence he confesses strictly just. +Yet sure a deed of mercy, from _thy_ hand, +Could never lead to ill. By such an act, +The stern and blood-stain'd brow of War +Would be disarm'd of half its gorgon horrors; +More humanized customs be induced; +And all the race of civilized man +Be blest in the example. Be it thy suit: +'T will well become thy character and station. + +M'DONALD. + +Trust me, young friend, I am alone the judge +Of what becomes my character and station: +And having judg'd that this young Briton's death, +Even 'though attended by thy father's murder, +Is necessary, in these times accurs'd, +When every thought of man is ting'd with blood, +I will not stir my finger to redeem them. +Nay, much I wonder, Bland, having so oft +The reasons for this necessary rigour +Enforced upon thee, thou wilt still persist +In vain solicitations. Imitate +Thy father! + +BLAND. + + My father knew not André. +I know his value; owe to him my life; +And, gratitude, that first, that best of virtues,-- +Without the which man sinks beneath the brute,-- +Binds me in ties indissoluble to him. + +M'DONALD. + +That man-created virtue blinds thy reason. +Man owes to man all love; when exercised, +He does no more than duty. Gratitude, +That selfish rule of action, which commands +That we our preference make of men, +Not for their worth, but that they did _us_ service, +Misleading reason, casting in the way +Of justice stumbling-blocks, cannot be virtue. + +BLAND. + +Detested sophistry!--'T was André sav'd me! + +M'DONALD. + +He sav'd thy life, and thou art grateful for it. +How self intrudes, delusive, on man's thoughts! +He sav'd thy life, yet strove to damn thy country; +Doom'd millions to the haughty Briton's yoke; +The best, and foremost in the cause of virtue, +To death, by sword, by prison, or the halter: +His sacrifice now stands the only bar +Between the wanton cruelties of war, +And our much-suffering soldiers: yet, when weigh'd +With gratitude, for that he sav'd _thy_ life, +These things prove gossamer, and balance air:-- +Perversion monstrous of man's moral sense! + +BLAND. + +Rather perversion monstrous of all good, +Is thy accurs'd, detestable opinion. +Cold-blooded reasoners, such as thee, would blast +All warm affection; asunder sever +Every social tie of humanized man. +Curst be thy sophisms! cunningly contriv'd +The callous coldness of thy heart to cover, +And screen thee from the brave man's detestation. + +M'DONALD. + +Boy, boy! + +BLAND. + + Thou knowest that André's not a spy. + +M'DONALD. + +I know him one. Thou hast acknowledg'd it. + +BLAND. + +Thou liest! + +M'DONALD. + + Shame on thy ruffian tongue! how passion +Mars thee! I pity thee! Thou canst not harm, +By words intemperate, a virtuous man. +I pity thee! for passion sometimes sways +My older frame, through former uncheck'd habit: +But when I see the havoc which it makes +In others, I can shun the snare accurst, +And nothing feel but pity. + +BLAND [_indignantly_]. + +Pity me! [_Approaches him, and speaks in an under voice._ +Thou canst be cool, yet, trust me, _passion_ sways thee. +_Fear_ does not _warm_ the blood, yet 't is a _passion_. +Hast thou no feeling? I have call'd thee liar! + +M'DONALD. + +If thou could'st make me one, I then might grieve. + +BLAND. + +Thy coolness goes to freezing: thou'rt a coward. + +M'DONALD. + +Thou knowest thou tell'st a falsehood. + +BLAND. + + Thou shalt know +None with impunity speaks thus of me. +That to rouse thy courage. [_Touches him gently, with his open hand, + in crossing him. M'DONALD looks at him unmoved._] + Dost thou not yet feel? + +M'DONALD. + +For _thee_ I feel. And tho' another's acts +Cast no dishonour on the worthy man, +I still feel for thy father. Yet, remember, +I may not, haply, ever be thus guarded; +I may not always the distinction make. +However just, between the blow intended +To provoke, and one that's meant to injure. + +BLAND. + +Hast thou no sense of honour? + +M'DONALD. + + Truly, yes: +For I am honour's votary. Honour, with me, +Is worth: 't is truth; 't is virtue; 't is a thing, +So high pre-eminent, that a boy's breath, +Or brute's, or madman's blow, can never reach it. +My honour is so much, so truly mine, +That none hath power to wound it, save myself. + +BLAND. + +I will proclaim thee through the camp a coward. + +M'DONALD. + +Think better of it! Proclaim not thine own shame. + +BLAND. + +I'll brand thee--Damnation! [_Exit._ + +M'DONALD. + + O, passion, passion! +A man who values fame, far more than life; +A brave young man; in many things a good; +Utters vile falsehood; adds injury to insult; +Striving with blood to seal such foul injustice; +And all from impulse of unbridled feeling.-- [_Pause._ +Here comes the mother of this headstrong boy, +Severely rack'd--What shall allay her torture? +For common consolation, _here_, is insult. + +_Enter MRS. BLAND and CHILDREN._ + +MRS. BLAND. + +O my good friend! + +M'DONALD [_taking her hand_]. + + I know thy cause of sorrow. +Art thou now from our Commander? + +MRS. BLAND [_drying her tears, and assuming dignity_]. + + I am. +But vain is my entreaty. All unmov'd +He hears my words, he sees my desperate sorrow. +Fain would I blame his conduct--but I cannot. +Strictly examin'd, with intent to mark +The error which so fatal proves to _me_, +My scrutiny but ends in admiration. +Thus when the prophet from the Hills of Moab, +Look'd down upon the chosen race of heaven, +With fell intent to curse; ere yet he spake, +Truth all resistless, emanation bright +From great Adonai, fill'd his froward mind, +And chang'd the curses of his heart to blessings. + +M'DONALD. + +Thou payest high praise to virtue. Whither now?-- + +MRS. BLAND. + +I still must hover round this spot until +My doom is known. + +M'DONALD. + + Then to my quarters, lady, +There shall my mate give comfort and refreshment: +One of your sex can best your sorrows soothe. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE, _the Prison._ + +_Enter BLAND._ + +BLAND. + +Where'er I look cold desolation meets me. +My father--André--and self-condemnation! +Why seek I André now? Am _I_ a man, +To soothe the sorrows of a suffering friend? +The weather-cock of passion! fool inebriate! +Who could with ruffian hand strive to provoke +Hoar wisdom to intemperance! who could lie! +Aye, swagger, lie, and brag!--Liar! Damnation!! +O, let me steal away and hide my head, +Nor view a man, condemn'd to harshest death, +Whose words and actions, when by mine compar'd, +Shew white as innocence, and bright as truth. +I now would shun him; but that his shorten'd +Thread of life, gives me no line to play with. +He comes, with smiles, and all the air of triumph; +While I am sinking with remorse and shame: +Yet _he_ is doom'd to death, and _I_ am free! + +_Enter ANDRÉ._ + +ANDRÉ. + +Welcome, my Bland! Cheerly, a welcome hither! +I feel assurance that my last request +Will not be slighted. Safely thy father +Shall return to thee. [_Holding out a paper._] See what employment +For a dying man. Take thou these verses; +And, after my decease, send them to her +Whose name is woven in them; whose image +Hath controul'd my destiny. Such tokens +Are rather out of date. Fashions +There are in love as in all else; they change +As variously. A gallant Knight, erewhile, +Of Coeur de Lion's day, would, dying, send +His heart home to its mistress; degenerate +Soldier I, send but some blotted paper. + +BLAND. + +If 't would not damp thy present cheerfulness, +I would require the meaning of thy words. +I ne'er till now did hear of André's mistress. + +ANDRÉ. + +Mine is a story of that common kind, +So often told, with scanty variation, +That the pall'd ear loaths the repeated tale. +Each young romancer chooses for his theme +The woes of youthful hearts, by the cold hand +Of frosty Age, arm'd with parental power, +Asunder torn. But I long since have ceas'd +To mourn; well satisfied that she I love, +Happy in holy union with another, +Shares not my wayward fortunes. Nor would I +Now these tokens send, remembrance to awaken, +But that I know her happy: and the happy +Can think on misery and share it not. + +BLAND [_agitated_]. + +Some one approaches. + +ANDRÉ. + + Why, 't is near the time. +But tell me, Bland, say--is the manner chang'd? + +BLAND. + +I hope it--but I yet have no assurance. + +ANDRÉ. + +Well, well! + +HONORA [_without_]. + + I must see him. + +ANDRÉ. + + Whose voice was that? +My senses!--Do I dream--? [_Leans on BLAND._ + +_Enter HONORA._ + +HONORA. + + Where is he? + +ANDRÉ. + + 'T is she!! [_Starts from BLAND + and advances towards HONORA; she rushes into his arms._] + +HONORA. + +It is enough! He lives, and _I_ shall save him. + [_She faints in the arms of ANDRÉ._ + +ANDRÉ. + +She sinks--assist me, Bland! O, save her, save her! + [_Places her in a chair, and looks tenderly on her._ +Yet, why should she awake from that sweet sleep! +Why should she open her eyes--[_Wildly._]--to see me hung! +What does she here? Stand off--[_Tenderly._]--and let her die. +How pale she looks! how worn that tender frame!-- +She has known sorrow! Who could injure her? + +BLAND. + +She revives--André--soft, bend her forward. + [_ANDRÉ kneels and supports her._ + +HONORA. + +André--! + +ANDRÉ. + + Lov'd excellence! + +HONORA. + + Yes, it is André! [_Rises and looks at him._ +No more deceived by visionary forms, +By him supported-- [_Leans on him._ + +ANDRÉ. + + Why is this? +Thou dost look pale, Honora--sick and wan-- +Languid thy fainting limbs-- + +HONORA. + + All will be well. +But was it kind to leave me as thou didst--? +So rashly to desert thy vow-link'd wife?-- + +ANDRÉ. + +When made another's both by vows and laws-- + +HONORA [_quitting his support_]. + +What meanest thou? + +ANDRÉ. + + Didst thou not marry him? + +HONORA. + +Marry! + +ANDRÉ. + + Didst thou not give thy hand away +From me? + +HONORA. + + O, never, never! + +ANDRÉ. + + Not married? + +HONORA. + +To none but thee, and but in will to thee. + +ANDRÉ. + +O blind, blind wretch!--Thy father told me---- + +HONORA. + +Thou wast deceived. They hurried me away, +Spreading false rumours to remove thy love-- +[_Tenderly._] Thou didst too soon believe them. + +ANDRÉ. + + Thy father-- +How could I but believe Honora's father? +And he did tell me so. I reverenced age, +Yet knew, age was not virtue. I believed +His snowy locks, and yet they did deceive me! +I have destroy'd myself and thee!--Alas! +Ill-fated maid! why didst thou not forget me? +Hast thou rude seas and hostile shores explor'd +For this? To see my death? Witness my shame? + +HONORA. + +I come to bless thee, André; and shall do it. +I bear such offers from thy kind Commander, +As must prevail to save thee. Thus the daughter +May repair the ills her cruel sire inflicted. +My father, dying, gave me cause to think +That arts were us'd to drive thee from thy home; +But what those arts I knew not. An heiress left, +Of years mature, with power and liberty, +I straight resolv'd to seek thee o'er the seas. +A long-known friend who came to join her lord, +Yielded protection and lov'd fellowship.-- +Indeed, when I did hear of thy estate +It almost kill'd me:--I was weak before-- + +ANDRÉ. + +'T is I have murder'd thee!-- + +HONORA. + + All shall be well. +Thy General heard of me, and instant form'd +The plan of this my visit. I am strong, +Compar'd with what I was. Hope strengthens me; +Nay, even solicitude supports me now; +And when thou shalt be safe, _thou_ wilt support me. + +ANDRÉ. + +Support thee!--O heaven! What!--And must I die? +Die!--and leave her _thus_--suffering--unprotected!-- + +_Enter MELVILLE and GUARD._ + +MELVILLE. + +I am sorry that my duty should require +Service, at which my heart revolts; but, sir, +Our soldiers wait in arms. All is prepar'd---- + +HONORA. + +To death!--Impossible! Has my delay, +Then, murder'd him?--A momentary respite-- + +MELVILLE. + +Lady, I have no power. + +BLAND. + + Melville, my friend, +This lady bears dispatches of high import, +Touching this business:--should they arrive too late---- + +HONORA. + +For pity's sake, and heaven's, conduct me to him; +And wait the issue of our conference. +Oh, 't would be murder of the blackest dye, +Sin execrable, not to break thy orders-- +Inhuman, thou art not. + +MELVILLE. + + Lady, thou say'st true; +For rather would I lose my rank in arms, +And stand cashier'd for lack of discipline, +Than, gain 'mongst military men all praise, +Wanting the touch of sweet humanity. + +HONORA. + +Thou grantest my request? + +MELVILLE. + + Lady, I do. +Retire! [_SOLDIERS go out._ + +BLAND. + +I know not what excuse, to martial men, +Thou canst advance for this; but to thy heart +Thou wilt need none, good Melville. + +ANDRÉ. + + O, Honora! + +HONORA. + +Cheer up, I feel assur'd. Hope wings my flight, +To bring thee tidings of much joy to come. + [_Exit HONORA, with BLAND and MELVILLE._ + +ANDRÉ. + +Eternal blessings on thee, matchless woman!-- +If death now comes, he finds the veriest coward +That e'er he dealt withal. I cannot think +Of dying. Void of fortitude, each thought +Clings to the world--the world that holds Honora! + [_Exit._ + +_End of the Fourth Act._ + + + + +ACT V. + + +SCENE, _the Encampment._ + +_Enter BLAND._ + +BLAND. + +Suspense--uncertainty--man's bane and solace! +How racking now to me! My mother comes. +Forgive me, O my father! if in this war, +This wasting conflict of my wildering passions, +Memory of thee holds here a second place! +M'Donald comes with her. I would not meet him: +Yet I will do it. Summon up some courage-- +Confess my fault, and gain, if not _his_ love, +At least the approbation of _my_ judgment. + +_Enter MRS. BLAND and CHILDREN with M'DONALD._ + +BLAND. + +Say, madam, is there no change of counsel, +Or new determination? + +MRS. BLAND. + + _Nought new_, my son. +The tale of misery is told unheard. +The widow's and the orphans' sighs +Fly up, unnoted by the eye of man, +And mingle, undistinguish'd, with the winds. +My friend [_To M'DONALD._], attend thy duties. I must away. + +2nd CHILD. + +You need not cry, Mama, the General will do it, I am sure; for I saw him +cry. He turn'd away his head from you, but I saw it. + +MRS. BLAND. + +Poor thing! come let us home and weep. Alas! +I can no more, for war hath made men rocks. + [_Exeunt MRS. BLAND and CHILDREN._ + +BLAND. + +Colonel, I used thee ill this morning. + +M'DONALD. + + No! +Thyself thou used'st most vilely, I remember. + +BLAND. + +Myself sustained the injury, most true; +But the intent of what I said and did +Was ill to thee alone: I'm sorry for it. +Seest thou these blushes? They proceed from warmth +As honest as the heart of man e'er felt;-- +But not with shame unmingled, while I force +This tongue, debased, to own, it slander'd thee, +And utter'd--I could curse it--utter'd falsehood. +Howe'er misled by passion, still my mind +Retains that sense of honest rectitude +Which makes the memory of an evil deed +A troublesome companion. I was wrong. + +M'DONALD. + +Why, now this glads me; for thou _now_ art right. +Oh, may thy tongue, henceforward, utter nought +But Truth's sweet precepts, in fair Virtue's cause! +Give me thy hand. [_Takes his hand._] Ne'er may it grasp a sword +But in defense of justice. + +BLAND. + + Yet, erewhile, +A few short hours scarce past, when this vile hand +Attempted on _thee_ insult; and was raised +Against thy honour; ready to be raised +Against thy life. If this my deep remorse-- + +M'DONALD. + +No more, no more. 'T is past. Remember it +But as thou would'st the action of another, +By thy enlighten'd judgment much condemn'd; +And serving as a beacon in the storms +Thy passions yet may raise. Remorse is vice: +Guard thee against its influence debasing. +Say to thyself, "I am not what I was; +I am not _now_ the instrument of vice; +I'm changed; I am a man; Virtue's firm friend; +Sever'd for ever from my former self; +No link, but in remembrance salutary." + +BLAND. + +[How[8] all men tower above me! + +M'DONALD. + + Nay, not so. +Above what once thou wast, some few do rise; +None above what thou art. + +BLAND. + +It shall be so. + +M'DONALD. + + It is so. + +BLAND. + + Then to prove it. +For I must yet a trial undergo, +That will require a consciousness of virtue. [_Exit._ + +M'DONALD. + +Oh, what a temper doth in man reside! +How capable of yet unthought perfection!] [_Exit._ + + +SCENE, _the GENERAL'S Quarters._ + +_Enter GENERAL and SEWARD._ + +GENERAL. + +Ask her, my friend, to send by thee her pacquets. + [_Exit SEWARD._ +Oh, what keen struggles must I undergo! +Unbless'd estate! to have the power to pardon; +The court's stern sentence to remit;--give life;-- +Feel the strong wish to use such blessed power; +Yet know that circumstances strong as fate +Forbid to obey the impulse. Oh, I feel +That man should never shed the blood of man! + +_Enter SEWARD._ + +SEWARD. + +Nought can the lovely suitor satisfy, +But conference with thee, and much I fear +Refusal would cause madness. + +GENERAL. + + Yet to admit, +To hear, be tortur'd, and refuse at last-- + +SEWARD. + +Sure never man such spectacle of sorrow +Saw before. Motionless the rough-hewn soldiers +Silent view her, or walk aside and weep. + +GENERAL [_after a pause_]. + +Admit her. [_SEWARD goes out._] Oh, for the art, the precious art, +To reconcile the sufferer to his sorrows! + +[_HONORA rushes in, and throws herself wildly on her knees before him; + he endeavours to raise her._ + +HONORA. + +Nay, nay, here is my place, or here, or lower, +Unless thou grant'st his life. All forms away! +Thus will I clasp thy knees, thus cling to thee.-- +I am his wife--'tis I have ruin'd him-- +Oh, save him! Give him to me! Let us cross +The mighty seas, far, far--ne'er to offend again.-- + [_The GENERAL turns away, and hides his eyes with his hand._ + +_Enter SEWARD and an OFFICER._ + +GENERAL. + +Seward, support her--my heart is torn in twain. + + [_HONORA as if exhausted, suffers herself to be raised, and leans on + SEWARD._ + +OFFICER. + +This moment, sir, a messenger arrived +With well confirm'd and mournful information, +That gallant Hastings, by the lawless scouts +Of Britain taken, after cruel mockery +With shew of trial and condemnation, +On the next tree was hung. + +HONORA [_wildly_]. + + Oh, it is false! + +GENERAL. + +Why, why, my country, did I hesitate? [_Exit._ + + [_HONORA sinks, faints, and is borne off by SEWARD and OFFICER._ + + +SCENE, _the Prison._ + +_ANDRÉ meeting BLAND._ + +ANDRÉ. + +How speeds Honora? [_Pause._] Art thou silent, Bland? +Why, then I know my task. The mind of man, +If not by vice debas'd, debilitated, +Or by disease of body quite unton'd, +Hath o'er its thoughts a power--energy divine! +Of fortitude the source and every virtue-- +A godlike power, which e'en o'er circumstance +Its sov'reignty exerts. Now, from my thoughts, +Honora! Yet she is left alone--expos'd-- + +BLAND. + +O, André, spurn me, strike me to the earth; +For what a wretch am I, in André's mind, +That he can think he leaves his love alone, +And I retaining life! + +ANDRÉ. + + Forgive me, Bland, +My thoughts glanc'd not on thee. Imagination +Pictur'd only, then, her orphan state, helpless; +Her weak and grief-exhausted frame. Alas! +This blow will kill her! + +BLAND [_kneeling_]. + + Here do I myself +Devote, my fortune consecrate, to thee, +To thy remembrance, and Honora's service!-- + +ANDRÉ. + +Enough! Let me not see her more--nor think of her-- +Farewell! farewell, sweet image! Now for death. + +BLAND. + +Yet that you shouldst the felon's fate fulfill-- +Damnation! my blood boils. Indignation +Makes the current of my life course wildly +Through its round, and maddens each emotion. + +ANDRÉ. + +Come, come, it matters not. + +BLAND. + + I do remember, +When a boy, at school, in our allotted tasks, +We, by our puny acts, strove to portray +The giant thoughts of Otway. I was Pierre.-- +O, thou art Pierre's reality! a soldier, +On whose manly brow sits fortitude enamour'd! +A Mars, abhorring vice, yet doom'd to die +A death of infamy; thy corse expos'd +To vulgar gaze--halter'd--distorted--Oh!! + [_Pauses, and then adds in a low, hollow voice._ +Pierre had a friend to save him from such shame-- +And so hast thou. + +ANDRÉ. + + No more, as thou dost love me. + +BLAND. + +I have a sword, and arm, that never fail'd me. + +ANDRÉ. + +Bland, such an act would justly thee involve, +And leave that helpless one thou sworest to guard, +Expos'd to every ill. Oh! think not of it. + +BLAND. + +If thou wilt not my aid--take it thyself. + [_Draws and offers his sword._ + +ANDRÉ. + +No, men will say that cowardice did urge me. +In my mind's weakness, I did wish to shun +That mode of death which error represented +Infamous: Now let me rise superior; +And with a fortitude too true to start +From mere appearances, shew your country, +That she, in me, destroys a man who might +Have liv'd to virtue. + +BLAND [_sheathing his sword_]. + + I will not think more of it; +I was again the sport of erring passion. + +ANDRÉ. + +Go thou and guide Honora from this spot. + +HONORA [_entering_]. + +Who shall oppose his wife? I will have way! +They, cruel, would have kept me from thee, André. +Say, am I not thy wife? _Wilt_ thou deny me? +Indeed I am not dress'd in bridal trim. +But I have travel'd far:--rough was the road-- +Rugged and rough--that must excuse my dress. +[_Seeing ANDRÉ'S distress._] Thou art not glad to see me. + +ANDRÉ. + + Break my heart! + +HONORA. + +Indeed, I feel not much in spirits. I wept but now. + +_Enter MELVILLE and GUARD._ + +BLAND [_to MELVILLE_]. + +Say nothing. + +ANDRÉ. + + I am ready. + +HONORA [_seeing the GUARD_]. + + Are _they_ here? +_Here_ again!--The _same_--but they shall not harm me-- +I am with _thee_, my André--I am safe-- +And _thou_ art safe with me. Is it not so? + [_Clinging to him._ + +_Enter MRS. BLAND._ + +MRS. BLAND. + +Where is this lovely victim? + +BLAND. + + Thanks, my mother. + +MRS. BLAND. + +M'Donald sent me hither. My woes are past. +Thy father, by the foe releas'd, already +Is in safety. This be forgotten now; +And every thought be turn'd to this sad scene. +Come, lady, home with me. + +HONORA. + + Go home with thee? +Art thou my André's mother? We will home +And rest, for thou art weary--very weary. + [_Leans on MRS. BLAND._ + +[_ANDRÉ retires to the GUARD, and goes off with them, looking on her to + the last, and with an action of extreme tenderness takes leave of + her. MELVILLE and BLAND accompany him._ + +HONORA. + +Now we will go. Come, love! Where is he? +All gone!--I do remember--I awake-- +They have him. Murder! Help! Oh, save him! save him! + + [_HONORA attempts to follow, but falls. MRS. BLAND kneels to assist + her. Scene closes._ + + +SCENE, _the Encampment._ + +_Procession to the execution of ANDRÉ. First enter Pioneers--Detachment + of Infantry--Military Band of Music--Infantry. The Music having + passed off, enter ANDRÉ between MELVILLE and AMERICAN OFFICER; they + sorrowful, he cheerfully conversing as he passes over the stage._ + +ANDRÉ. + +It may in me be merely prejudice, +The effect of young-opinion deep engraved +Upon the tender mind by care parental; +But I must think your country has mistook +Her interests. Believe me, but for this I should +Not willingly have drawn a sword against her. + [_They bow their heads in silence._ +Opinion must, nay ought, to sway our actions; +Therefore-- + +_Having crossed the stage, he goes out as still conversing with them. + Another detachment of Infantry, with muffled and craped drums, close + the procession: as soon as they are off--_ + +_Scene draws and discovers the distant view of the Encampment._ + +_Procession enters in same order as before, proceeds up the stage, and + goes off on the opposite side._ + +_Enter M'DONALD, leading BLAND, who looks wildly back._ + +BLAND. + +I dare not _thee_ resist. Yet why, O, why +Thus hurry me away--?-- + +M'DONALD. + + Would'st thou behold---- + +BLAND. + +Oh, name it not! + +M'DONALD. + + Or would'st thou, by thy looks +And gestures wild, o'erthrow that manly calmness +Which, or assum'd or felt, so well becomes thy friend? + +BLAND. + +What means that cannon's sound? + +M'DONALD [_after a pause_]. + + Signal of death +Appointed. André, thy friend, is now no more! + +BLAND. + +Farewell, farewell, brave spirit! O, let my countrymen, +Henceforward, when the cruelties of war +Arise in their remembrance; when their ready +Speech would pour forth torrents in their foe's dispraise, +Think on this act accurst, and lock complaint in silence. + [_BLAND throws himself on the earth._ + +M'DONALD. + +Such are the dictates of the heart, not head. +Oh, may the children of Columbia still +Be taught by every teacher of mankind, +Each circumstance of calculative gain, +Or wounded pride, which prompted our oppressors: +May every child be taught to lisp the tale: +And may, in times to come, no foreign force, +No European influence, tempt to misstate, +Or awe the tongue of eloquence to silence. +Still may our children's children deep abhor +The motives, doubly deep detest the actors; +Ever remembering, that the race who plan'd, +Who acquiesced, or did the deeds abhor'd, +Has pass'd from off the earth; and, in its stead, +Stand men who challenge love or detestation +But from their proper, individual deeds. +Never let memory of the sire's offence +Descend upon the son. + +_Curtain drops._ + +FOOTNOTES: + +[6] See p. 557. + +[7] Spirit of the dead; shade. + +[8] Insert the lines which were substituted after the first night for the +lines here put in brackets. They are given in the Preface, page 509. + + + + +TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES + +Variable hyphenation of god(-)like has been preserved as in the original. + +Inconsistent inconclusion of acute accent on ANDRÉ as in the original. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of André, by William Dunlap + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANDRÉ *** + +***** This file should be named 29229-8.txt or 29229-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/2/2/29229/ + +Produced by David Starner, Brownfox and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: André + +Author: William Dunlap + +Editor: Montrose J. Moses + +Release Date: June 26, 2009 [EBook #29229] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANDRÉ *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Brownfox and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="tnote"><p class="center"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></p> +<p>This e-book contains the text of <i>André</i>, extracted from +<b>Representative Plays by American Dramatists: Vol 1, 1765-1819</b>. Comments and +background to all the plays, and links to the other plays are available +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29221/29221-h/29221-h.htm">here</a>.</p> +<p>For your convenience, the transcribers have provided the following links:</p> +<p class="center"> +<a href="#WILLIAM_DUNLAP"><b>WILLIAM DUNLAP</b></a><br /> +<a href="#PREFACE"><b>PREFACE</b></a><br /> +<a href="#PROLOGUE"><b>PROLOGUE</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHARACTERS"><b>CHARACTERS</b></a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_I"><b>ACT I.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_II"><b>ACT II.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_III"><b>ACT III.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_IV"><b>ACT IV.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#ACT_V"><b>ACT V.</b></a><br /> +</p> +<p>Spelling as in the original has been preserved.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[Pg 499]</a></span></p> + + + +<h1>ANDRÉ</h1> + +<p class="center"><i>By</i></p> + +<h2><span class="smcap">William Dunlap</span></h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[Pg 500]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 516px;"> +<img src="images/image_493.png" width="516" height="538" alt="William Dunlap" title="" /> +<span class="caption smcap">William Dunlap</span> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[Pg 501]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="WILLIAM_DUNLAP" id="WILLIAM_DUNLAP"></a>WILLIAM DUNLAP:</h2> + +<h2>FATHER OF THE AMERICAN THEATRE</h2> + +<h3>(1766-1839)</h3> + + +<p>The life of William Dunlap is full of colour and variety. Upon +his shoulders very largely rests the responsibility for whatever +knowledge we have of the atmosphere of the early theatre in +America, and of the personalities of the players. For, as a boy, +his father being a Loyalist, there is no doubt that young William +used to frequent the play-house of the Red Coats, and we would +like to believe actually saw some of the performances with which +Major André was connected.</p> + +<p>He was born at Perth Amboy, then the seat of government for +the Province of New Jersey, on February 19, 1766 (where he died +September 28, 1839), and, therefore, as an historian of the theatre, +he was able to glean his information from first hand sources. +Yet, his monumental work on the "History of the American +Theatre" was written in late years, when memory was beginning +to be overclouded, and, in recent times, it has been shown that +Dunlap was not always careful in his dates or in his statements. +George Seilhamer, whose three volumes, dealing with the +American Theatre before the year 1800, are invaluable, is particularly +acrimonious in his strictures against Dunlap. Nevertheless, +he has to confess his indebtedness to the Father of the +American Theatre.</p> + +<p>Dunlap was many-sided in his tastes and activities. There is +small reason to doubt that from his earliest years the theatre +proved his most attractive pleasure. But, when he was scarcely +in the flush of youth, he went to Europe, and studied art under +Benjamin West. Throughout his life he was ever producing canvases, +and designing, and his interest in the art activity of the +country, which connects his name with the establishment of the +New York Academy of Design, together with his writing on the +subject, make him an important figure in that line of work.</p> + +<p>On his return from Europe, as we have already noted, he was +fired to write plays through the success of Royall Tyler, and he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[Pg 502]</a></span>began his long career as dramatist, which threw him upon his own +inventive resourcefulness, and so closely identified him with the +name of the German, Kotzebue, whose plays he used to translate +and adapt by the wholesale, as did also Charles Smith.</p> + +<p>The pictures of William Dunlap are very careful to indicate in +realistic fashion the fact that he had but one eye. When a boy, +one of his playmates at school threw a stone, which hit his right +eye. But though he was thus early made single-visioned, he saw +more than his contemporaries; for he was a man who mingled +much in the social life of the time, and he had a variety of friends, +among them Charles Brockden Brown, the novelist, and George +Frederick Cooke, the tragedian. He was the biographer for both +of them, and these volumes are filled with anecdote, which throws +light, not only on the subjects, but upon the observational taste +of the writer. There are those who claim that he was unjust +to Cooke, making him more of a drunkard than he really was. +And the effect the book had on some of its readers may excellently +well be seen by Lord Byron's exclamation, after having +finished it. As quoted by Miss Crawford, in her "Romance of the +American Theatre," he said: "Such a book! I believe, since +'Drunken Barnaby's Journal,' nothing like it has drenched the +press. All green-room and tap-room, drams and the drama. +Brandy, whiskey-punch, and, latterly, toddy, overflow every +page. Two things are rather marvelous; first, that a man should +live so long drunk, and next that he should have found a sober +biographer."</p> + +<p>Dunlap's first play was called "The Modest Soldier; or, Love +in New York" (1787). We shall let him be his own chronicler:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>As a medium of communication between the playwriter and +the manager, a man was pointed out, who had for a time been of +some consequence on the London boards, and now resided under +another name in New York. This was the Dubellamy of the English +stage, a first singer and <i>walking-gentleman</i>. He was now past his +meridian, but still a handsome man, and was found sufficiently easy +of access and full of the courtesy of the old school. A meeting was +arranged at the City Tavern, and a bottle of Madeira discussed with +the merits of this first-born of a would-be author. The wine was +praised, and the play was praised—the first, perhaps, made the second +tolerable—that must be good which can repay a man of the world for +listening to an author who reads his own play.</p></div> + +<p>In due course of time, the youthful playwright reached the +presence of the then all-powerful actors, Hallam and Henry, and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[Pg 503]</a></span> +after some conference with them, the play was accepted. But +though accepted, it was not produced, that auspicious occasion +being deferred whenever the subject was broached. At this time, +young Dunlap was introduced to the stony paths of playwriting. +He had to alter his manuscript in many ways, only to see it laid +upon the shelf until some future occasion. And, according to his +confession, the reason the piece did not receive immediate production +was because there was no part which Henry, the six-foot, +handsome idol of the day, could see himself in to his own +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Dunlap's next play was "The Father; or, American Shandy-ism,"<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> +which was produced on September 7, 1789. It was published +almost immediately, and was later reprinted, under the +title of "The Father of an Only Child."</p> + +<p>Most historians call attention to the fact that to Dunlap belongs +the credit of having first introduced to the American stage +the German dialect of the later Comedian. Even as we look to +Tyler's "The Contrast" for the first Yankee, to Samuel Low's +"Politician Out-witted" for an early example of Negro dialect, so +may we trace other veins of American characteristics as they +appeared in early American dramas.</p> + +<p>But it is to "Darby's Return,"<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> the musical piece, that our interest +points, because it was produced for the benefit of Thomas +Wignell, at the New-York Theatre (November 24, 1789), and +probably boasted among its first-nighters George Washington. +Writes Dunlap:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The eyes of the audience were frequently bent on his countenance, +and to watch the emotions produced by any particular passage upon +him was the simultaneous employment of all. When Wignell, as +<i>Darby</i>, recounts what had befallen him in America, in New York, at +the adoption of the Federal Constitution, and the inauguration of the +President, the interest expressed by the audience in the looks and the +changes of countenance of this great man became intense.</p></div> + +<p>And then there follows an indication by Dunlap of where +Washington smiled, and where he showed displeasure. And, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[Pg 504]</a></span>altogether, there was much perturbation of mind over every +quiver of his eye-lash. The fact of the matter is, as a playgoer, the +Father of our Country figured quite as constantly as the Father +of our Theatre. When the seat of Government changed from New +York to Philadelphia, President Washington's love of the theatre +prompted many theatrical enterprises to follow in his wake, and +we have an interesting picture, painted in words by Seilhamer +(ii, 316), of the scene at the old Southwark on such an occasion. +He says:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[The President] frequently occupied the east stage-box, which was +fitted up expressly for his reception. Over the front of the box was +the United States coat-of-arms and the interior was gracefully +festooned with red drapery. The front of the box and the seats were +cushioned. According to John [<i>sic</i>] Durang, Washington's reception +at the theatre was always exceedingly formal and ceremonious. A +soldier was generally posted at each stage-door; four soldiers were +placed in the gallery; a military guard attended. Mr. Wignell, in a +full dress of black, with his hair elaborately powdered in the fashion +of the time, and holding two wax candles in silver candle-sticks, was +accustomed to receive the President at the box-door and conduct +Washington and his party to their seats. Even the newspapers +began to take notice of the President's contemplated visits to the +theatre.</p></div> + +<p>This is the atmosphere which must have attended the performance +of Dunlap's "Darby's Return."</p> + +<p>The play which probably is best known to-day, as by William +Dunlap, is his "André,"<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> in which Washington figures as the +General, later to appear under his full name, when Dunlap utilized +the old drama in a manuscript libretto, entitled "The Glory +of Columbia—Her Yeomanry" (1817). The play was produced on +March 30, 1798, after Dunlap had become manager of the New +Park Theatre, within whose proscenium it was given. Professor +Matthews, editing the piece for the Dunlap Society (No. 4, 1887), +claims that this was the first drama acted in the United States +during Washington's life, in which he was made to appear on +the stage of a theatre. But it must not be forgotten that in +"The Fall of British Tyranny," written in 1776, by Leacock, +Washington appears for the first time in any piece of American +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[Pg 505]</a></span>fiction. Dunlap writes of the performance (American Theatre, +ii, 20):</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The receipts were 817 dollars, a temporary relief. The play was +received with warm applause, until Mr. Cooper, in the character +of a young American officer, who had been treated as a brother +by André when a prisoner with the British, in his zeal and gratitude, +having pleaded for the life of the spy in vain, tears the American +cockade from his casque, and throws it from him. This was not, perhaps +could not be, understood by a mixed assembly; they thought +the country and its defenders insulted, and a hiss ensued—it was soon +quieted, and the play ended with applause. But the feeling excited +by the incident was propagated out of doors. Cooper's friends wished +the play withdrawn, on his account, fearing for his popularity. However, +the author made an alteration in the incident, and subsequently +all went on to the end with applause.</p></div> + +<p>A scene from the last act of "André"<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> was produced at an +American Drama Matinée, under the auspices of the American +Drama Committee of the Drama League of America, New York +Centre, on January 22nd and 23rd, 1917. There are many +Arnold and André plays, some of which have been noted by Professor +Matthews.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> Another interesting historical study is the +stage popularity of Nathan Hale.</p> + +<p>We might go on indefinitely, narrating incidents connected +with Dunlap as citizen, painter, playwright, author, and theatrical +manager, for within a very short time he managed the John +Street and New Park Theatres, retiring for a while in 1805.</p> + +<p>But this is sufficient to illustrate the pioneer character of +his work and influence. Inaccurate he may have been in his +"History of the American Theatre," but the atmosphere is there, +and he never failed to recognize merit, and to give touches of +character to the actors, without which our impression of the early +theatre in this country would be the poorer. The name of William +Dunlap is intimately associated with the beginnings of +American painting, American literary life and the American +Theatre. It is for these he will ever remain distinguished.</p> + +<p>As a playwright, he wrote so rapidly, and so constantly utilized +over and over again, not only his own material, but the materials +of others, that it is not surprising to find him often in dispute with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[Pg 506]</a></span>dramatic authors of the time. A typical disagreement occurred +in the case of the actor John Hodgkinson (1767-1805), whose +drama, "The Man of Fortitude; or, the Knight's Adventure," +given at the John Street Theatre, on June 7, 1797, was, according +to Dunlap, based on his own one-act verse play, "The Knight's +Adventure," submitted to the actor some years before.</p> + +<p>Only the play, based on the 1798 edition, is here reproduced. +The authentic documents are omitted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[Pg 507]</a></span></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The/Father;/or,/American Shandy-ism./A Comedy,/As performed at the New-York +Theatre,/By the/Old American Company./Written in the year 1788./With +what fond hope, through many a blissful hour,/We give the soul to Fancy's pleasing +pow'r./Conquest of Canaan./New-York:/Printed by Hodge, Allen & Campbell./ +M, DCC, LXXXIX./</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Darby's Return:/A Comic Sketch,/As Performed at the New-York Theatre,/ +November 24, 1789,/For the Benefit of Mr. Wignell. Written by William Dunlap./ +New-York:/Printed by Hodge, Allen and Campbell./And Sold at their respective +Bookstores,/and by Berry and Rogers./M, DCC, LXXXIX./</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> André;/A Tragedy, in Five Acts:/As Performed by the Old American Company,/ +New-York, March 30, 1798./To which are added,/Authentic Documents/respecting/ +Major André;/Consisting of/Letters to Miss Seward,/The/Cow Chace,/Proceedings +of the Court Martial, &c./Copy Right Secured./New-York:/Printed by T. & J. +Swords, No. 99 Pearl-street./1798./</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> One of Dunlap's best-known tragedies was "Leicester," published by David +Longworth in 1807.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Freneau began a play, "The Spy" (Pattee, "Poems of Philip Freneau"), in +which André was a character.</p></div> +</div> +<div class="figcenter gap3" style="width: 428px;"> +<img src="images/image_500.png" width="428" height="687" alt="ANDRE; A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS" title="ANDRE; A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Fac-Simile Title-Page of the First Edition</span></span> +</div> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[Pg 508]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2> + + +<p>More than nine years ago the Author made choice of the +death of Major André as the Subject of a Tragedy, and part +of what is now offered to the public was written at that time. +Many circumstances discouraged him from finishing his Play, +and among them must be reckoned a prevailing opinion that +recent events are unfit subjects for tragedy. These discouragements +have at length all given way to his desire of bringing a +story on the Stage so eminently fitted, in his opinion, to excite +interest in the breasts of an American audience.</p> + +<p>In exhibiting a stage representation of a real transaction, the +particulars of which are fresh in the minds of many of the audience, +an author has this peculiar difficulty to struggle with, that +those who know the events expect to see them <i>all</i> recorded; and +any deviation from what they remember to be fact, appears to +them as a fault in the poet; they are disappointed, their expectations +are not fulfilled, and the writer is more or less condemned, +not considering the difference between the poet and the historian, +or not knowing that what is intended to be exhibited is a free +poetical picture, not an exact historical portrait.</p> + +<p>Still further difficulties has the Tragedy of André to surmount, +difficulties independent of its own demerits, in its way to public +favour. The subject necessarily involves political questions; but +the Author presumes that he owes no apology to any one for +having shewn himself an American. The friends of Major +André (and it appears that all who knew him were his friends) +will look with a jealous eye on the Poem, whose principal incident +is the sad catastrophe which his misconduct, in submitting to +be an instrument in a transaction of treachery and deceit, justly +brought upon him: but these friends have no cause of offence; +the Author has adorned the poetical character of André with +every virtue; he has made him his Hero; to do which, he was +under the necessity of making him condemn his own conduct, in +the one dreadfully unfortunate action of his life. To shew the +effects which Major André's excellent qualities had upon the +minds of men, the Author has drawn a generous and amiable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[Pg 509]</a></span> +youth, so blinded by his love for the accomplished Briton, as to +consider his country, and the great commander of her armies, as +in the commission of such horrid injustice, that he, in the anguish +of his soul, disclaims the service. In this it appears, since the first +representation, that the Author has gone near to offend the veterans +of the American army who were present on the first night, +and who not knowing the sequel of the action, felt much disposed +to condemn him: but surely they must remember the diversity +of opinion which agitated the minds of men at that time, on the +question of the propriety of putting André to death; and when +they add the circumstances of André's having saved the life of +this youth, and gained his ardent friendship, they will be inclined +to mingle with their disapprobation, a sentiment of pity, and +excuse, perhaps commend the Poet, who has represented the +action without sanctioning it by his approbation.</p> + +<p>As a sequel to the affair of the cockade, the Author has added +the following lines, which the reader is requested to insert, page +<a href="#FNanchor_8_8">55</a>, between the 5th and 15th lines, instead of the lines he will find +there, which were printed before the piece was represented.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a>—</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Noble M'Donald, truth and honour's champion!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet think not strange that my intemperance wrong'd thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good as thou art! for, would'st thou, canst thou, think it?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My tongue, unbridled, hath the same offence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With action violent, and boisterous tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurl'd on that glorious man, whose pious labours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shield from every ill his grateful country!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That man, whom friends to adoration love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And enemies revere.—Yes, M'Donald,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even in the presence of the first of men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did I abjure the service of my country,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And reft my helmet of that glorious badge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which graces even the brow of Washington.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How shall I see him more!—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alive himself to every generous impulse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hath excus'd the impetuous warmth of youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In expectation that thy fiery soul,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[Pg 510]</a></span>Chasten'd by time and reason, will receive<br /> +<span class="i0">The stamp indelible of godlike virtue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me, in trust, he gave this badge disclaim'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With power, when thou shouldst see thy wrongful error,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From him, to reinstate it in thy helm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">And thee in his high favour.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Gives the cockade.</i></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland</span> [<i>takes the cockade and replaces it</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall I speak my thoughts of thee and him?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No:—let my actions henceforth shew what thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he have made me. Ne'er shall my helmet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lack again its proudest, noblest ornament,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until my country knows the rest of peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Or Bland the peace of death!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit.</i></div> +</div></div> + +<p>This alteration, as well as the whole performance, on the second +night, met the warm approbation of the audience.</p> + +<p>To the performers the Author takes this opportunity of returning +his thanks for their exertions in his behalf; perfectly convinced, +that on this, as on former occasions, the members of the +Old American Company have anxiously striven to oblige him.</p> + +<p>If this Play is successful, it will be a proof that recent events +may be so managed in tragedy as to command popular attention; +if it is unsuccessful, the question must remain undetermined until +some more powerful writer shall again make the experiment. The +Poem is now submitted to the ordeal of closet examination, with +the Author's respectful assurance to every reader, that as it is +not his interest, so it has not been his intention, to offend any; +but, on the contrary, to impress, through the medium of a pleasing +stage exhibition, the sublime lessons of Truth and Justice +upon the minds of his countrymen.</p> + +<p style="text-align:right;padding-right:1em;"> +<span class="smcap">W. Dunlap.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><i>New-York, April 4th, 1798.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[Pg 511]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="PROLOGUE" id="PROLOGUE"></a>PROLOGUE</h2> + +<p class="center">SPOKEN BY MR. MARTIN.</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza10"> +<span class="i2">A native Bard, a native scene displays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And claims your candour for his daring lays:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Daring, so soon, in mimic scenes to shew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What each remembers as a real woe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who has forgot when gallant <span class="smcap">André</span> died?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A name by Fate to Sorrow's self allied.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who has forgot, when o'er the untimely bier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contending armies paus'd, to drop a tear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza10"> +<span class="i2">Our Poet builds upon a fact tonight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet claims, in building, every Poet's right;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To choose, embellish, lop, or add, or blend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fiction with truth, as best may suit his end;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, he avows, is pleasure to impart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And move the passions but to mend the heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza10"> +<span class="i2">Oh, may no party-spirit blast his views,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or turn to ill the meanings of the Muse:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sings of wrongs long past, Men as they were,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To instruct, without reproach, the Men that are;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then judge the Story by the genius shewn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And praise, or damn, it, for its worth alone.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[Pg 512]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHARACTERS" id="CHARACTERS"></a>CHARACTERS</h2> + +<table summary="Cast List"> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent" style="width:80%;padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;"> +<span class="smcap">General,</span> <i>dress, American staff uniform, blue, faced with +buff, large gold epaulets, cocked hat, with the black and +white cockade, indicating the union with France, buff +waistcoat and breeches, boots,</i></td> +<td style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;">Mr. Hallam.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent" style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;"> +<span class="smcap">M'Donald,</span> <i>a man of forty years of age, uniform nearly the +same of the first,</i></td> +<td style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;">Mr. Tyler.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent" style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;"> +<span class="smcap">Seward,</span> <i>a man of thirty years of age, staff uniform,</i></td> +<td style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;">Mr. Martin.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent" style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;"> +<span class="smcap">André,</span> <i>a man of twenty-nine years of age, full British +uniform after the first scene,</i></td> +<td style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;">Mr. Hodgkinson.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent" style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;"> +<span class="smcap">Bland,</span> <i>a youthful but military figure, in the uniform of +a Captain of horse—dress, a short blue coat, faced with +red, and trimmed with gold lace, two small epaulets, a +white waistcoat, leather breeches, boots and spurs; over +the coat, crossing the chest from the right shoulder, a +broad buff belt, to which is suspended a manageable hussar +sword; a horseman's helmet on the head, decorated as +usual, and the union cockade affixed,</i></td> +<td style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;">Mr. Cooper.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent" style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;"> +<span class="smcap">Melville,</span> <i>a man of middle age, and grave deportment; his +dress a Captain's uniform when on duty; a blue coat, with +red facings, gold epaulet, white waistcoat and breeches, +boots and cocked hat, with the union cockade,</i></td> +<td style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;">Mr. Williamson.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent" style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;"> +<span class="smcap">British Officer,</span></td> +<td style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;">Mr. Hogg.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent" style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;"> +<span class="smcap">American Officer,</span></td> +<td style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;">Mr. Miller.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent" style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:middle;"> +<span class="smcap">Children,</span></td> +<td style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;">Master Stockwell and Miss Hogg.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent" style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;"> +<span class="smcap">American Sergeant,</span></td> +<td style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;">Mr. Seymour.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent" style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;" colspan="2"> +<span class="smcap">American Officers and Soldiers,</span> &c.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent" style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;"> +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland,</span></td> +<td style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;">Mrs. Melmoth.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="hangindent" style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;"> +<span class="smcap">Honora,</span></td> +<td style="padding-bottom:0.5em;vertical-align:bottom;">Mrs. Johnson.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, the Village of Tappan, Encampment, and adjoining +Country. Time, ten hours.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[Pg 513]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2 class="gap3">ANDRÉ</h2> + +<h2 class="gap2"><a name="ACT_I" id="ACT_I"></a>ACT I.</h2> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> I. <i>A Wood seen by starlight; an Encampment at a distance +appearing between the trees.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Melville</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The solemn hour, "when night and morning meet,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mysterious time, to superstition dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And superstition's guides, now passes by;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deathlike in solitude. The sentinels,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In drowsy tones, from post to post, send on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The signal of the passing hour. "All's well,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounds through the camp. Alas! all is not well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Else, why stand I, a man, the friend of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At midnight's depth, deck'd in this murderous guise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The habiliment of death, the badge of dire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Necessitous coercion. 'T is not well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—In vain the enlighten'd friends of suffering man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Point out, of war, the folly, guilt, and madness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still, age succeeds to age, and war to war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And man, the murderer, marshalls out his hosts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the gaiety of festive pomp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To spread around him death and desolation.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How long! how long!——<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Methinks I hear the tread of feet this way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">My meditating mood may work me woe.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir">[<i>Draws.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">Stand, whoso'er thou art. Answer. Who's there?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Bland</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A friend.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Advance and give the countersign.<br /></span> +<div class='pagenum'><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[Pg 514]</a></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hudson.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What, Bland!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Melville, my friend, you <i>here</i>?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And <i>well</i>, my brave young friend. But why do you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At this dead hour of night, approach the camp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On foot, and thus alone?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">I have but now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dismounted; and, from yon sequester'd cot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose lonely taper through the crannied wall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sheds its faint beams, and twinkles midst the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have I, adventurous, grop'd my darksome way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My servant, and my horses, spent with toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There wait till morn.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Why waited not yourself?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Anxious to know the truth of those reports<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, from the many mouths of busy Fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still, as I pass'd, struck varying on my ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each making th' other void. Nor does delay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The colour of my hasteful business suit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bring dispatches for our great Commander;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hasted hither with design to wait<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His rising, or awake him with the sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You will not need the last, for the blest sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ne'er rises on his slumbers; by the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We see him mounted gaily in the field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or find him wrapt in meditation deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Planning the welfare of our war-worn land.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Prosper, kind heaven! and recompense his cares.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[Pg 515]</a></span></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You're from the South, if I presume aright?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am; and, Melville, I am fraught with news?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The South teems with events; convulsing ones:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Briton, there, plays at no mimic war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gallant face he moves, and gallantly is met.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brave spirits, rous'd by glory, throng our camp;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hardy hunter, skill'd to fell the deer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or start the sluggish bear from covert rude;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not a clown that comes, but from his youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is trained to pour from far the leaden death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To climb the steep, to struggle with the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To labour firmly under scorching skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bear, unshrinking, winter's roughest blast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This, and that heaven-inspir'd enthusiasm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which ever animates the patriot's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall far outweigh the lack of discipline.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Justice is ours; what shall prevail against her?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But as I past along, many strange tales,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And monstrous rumours, have my ears assail'd:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Arnold had prov'd false; but he was ta'en,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hung, or to be hung—I know not what.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another told, that all our army, with their<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much lov'd Chief, sold and betray'd, were captur'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, as I nearer drew, at yonder cot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T was said, that Arnold, traitor like, had fled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that a Briton, tried and prov'd a spy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was, on this day, as such, to suffer death.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As you drew near, plain truth advanced to meet you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T is even as you heard, my brave young friend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never had people on a single throw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More interest at stake; when he, who held<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For us the die, prov'd false, and play'd us foul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for a circumstance of that nice kind,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[Pg 516]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of cause so microscopic, that the tongues<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of inattentive men call it the effect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of chance, we must have lost the glorious game.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blest, blest be heaven! whatever was the cause!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The blow ere this had fallen that would have bruis'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tender plant which we have striven to rear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crush'd to the dust, no more to bless this soil.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What warded off the blow?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The brave young man, who this day dies, was seiz'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within our bounds, in rustic garb disguis'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He offer'd bribes to tempt the band that seiz'd him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the rough farmer, for his country arm'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That soil defending which his ploughshare turn'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those laws, his father chose, and he approv'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cannot, as mercenary soldiers may,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be brib'd to sell the public-weal for gold.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'T is well. Just heaven! O, grant that thus may fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All those who seek to bring this land to woe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All those, who, or by open force, or dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And secret machinations, seek to shake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Tree of Liberty, or stop its growth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In any soil where thou hast pleas'd to plant it.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet not a heart but pities and would save him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all confirm that he is brave and virtuous;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Known, but till now, the darling child of Honour.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland</span> [<i>contemptuously</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And how is call'd this—honourable spy?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">André's his name.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[Pg 517]</a></span></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland</span> [<i>much agitated</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">André!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Aye, Major André.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">André! Oh no, my friend, you're sure deceiv'd—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll pawn my life, my ever sacred fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My General's favour, or a soldier's honour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gallant André never yet put on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The guise of falsehood. Oh, it cannot be!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How might I be deceiv'd? I've heard him, seen him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what I tell, I tell from well-prov'd knowledge;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No second tale-bearer, who heard the news.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pardon me, Melville. Oh, that well-known name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So link'd with circumstances infamous!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My friend must pardon me. Thou wilt not blame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I shall tell what cause I have to love him:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What cause to think him nothing more the pupil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Honour stern, than sweet Humanity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rememberest thou, when cover'd o'er with wounds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left upon the field, I fell the prey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Britain? To a loathsome prison-ship<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confin'd, soon had I sunk, victim of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A death of aggravated miseries;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, by benevolence urg'd, this best of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This gallant youth, then favour'd, high in power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sought out the pit obscene of foul disease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I, and many a suffering soldier lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like an angel, seeking good for man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restor'd us light, and partial liberty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me he mark'd out his own. He nurst and cur'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lov'd and made his friend. I liv'd by him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my heart he liv'd, till, when exchang'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Duty and honour call'd me from my friend.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Judge how my heart is tortur'd.—Gracious heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus, thus to meet him on the brink of death<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[Pg 518]</a></span>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">A death so infamous! Heav'n grant my prayer.</span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Kneels.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">That I may save him, O, inspire my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">With thoughts, my tongue with words that move to pity!</span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Rises.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">Quick, Melville, shew me where my André lies.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good wishes go with you.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">I'll save my friend.</span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exeunt.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, <i>the Encampment, by starlight.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter the <span class="smcap">General</span>, <span class="smcap">M'Donald</span> and <span class="smcap">Seward</span>.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'T is well. Each sentinel upon his post<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands firm, and meets me at the bayonet's point;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While in his tent the weary soldier lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet reward of wholesome toil enjoying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resting secure as erst within his cot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He careless slept, his rural labour o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere Britons dar'd to violate those laws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those boasted laws by which themselves are govern'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strove to make their fellow-subjects slaves.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They know to whom they owe their present safety.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hope they know that to themselves they owe it:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that good discipline which they observe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The discipline of men to order train'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who know its value, and in whom 't is virtue:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that prompt hardihood with which they meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or toil or danger, poverty or death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mankind who know not whence that spirit springs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which holds at bay all Britain's boasted power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gaze on their deeds astonish'd. See the youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Start from his plough, and straightway play the hero;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unmurmuring bear such toils as veterans shun;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[Pg 519]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest all content upon the dampsome earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Follow undaunted to the deathful charge;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, when occasion asks, lead to the breach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fearless of all the unusual din of war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His former peaceful mates. O patriotism!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wond'rous principle of god-like action!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever liberty is found, there reigns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love of country. Now the self-same spirit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which fill'd the breast of great Leonidas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swells in the hearts of thousands on these plains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thousands who never heard the hero's tale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T is this alone which saves thee, O my country!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, till that spirit flies these western shores,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No power on earth shall crush thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">'T is wond'rous!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The men of other climes from this shall see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How easy 't is to shake oppression off;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How all resistless is an union'd people:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hence, from our success (which, by my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel as much secur'd, as though our foes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were now within their floating prisons hous'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their proud prows all pointing to the east),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall other nations break their galling fetters,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And re-assume the dignity of man.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Are other nations in that happy state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, having broke Coercion's iron yoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They can submit to Order's gentle voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And walk on earth self-ruled? I much do fear it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to ourselves, in truth, I nothing see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all the wond'rous deeds which we perform,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But plain effects from causes full as plain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rises not man for ever 'gainst oppression?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the law of life; he can't avoid it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when the love of property unites<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sense of injuries past, and dread of future.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it then wonderful, that he should brave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lesser evil to avoid a greater?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[Pg 520]</a></span></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General</span> [<i>sportively</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'T is hard, quite hard, we may not please ourselves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By our great deeds ascribing to our virtue.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">M'Donald never spares to lash our pride.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In truth I know of nought to make you proud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think there's none within the camp that draws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With better will his sword than does M'Donald.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have a home to guard. My son is—butcher'd—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hast thou no nobler motives for thy arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than love of property and thirst of vengeance?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, my good Seward, and yet nothing wond'rous.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love this country for the sake of man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My parents, and I thank them, cross'd the seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made me native of fair Nature's world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With room to grow and thrive in. I have thriven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feel my mind unshackled, free, expanding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grasping, with ken unbounded, mighty thoughts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At which, if chance my mother had, good dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Scotia, our revered parent soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Given me to see the day, I should have shrunk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Affrighted. Now, I see in this new world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A resting spot for man, if he can stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Firm in his place, while Europe howls around him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all unsettled as the thoughts of vice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each nation in its turn threats him with feeble malice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One trial, now, we prove; and I have met it.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And met it like a man, my brave M'Donald.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hope so; and I hope my every act<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has been the offspring of deliberate judgment;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, feeling second's reason's cool resolves.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_521" id="Page_521">[Pg 521]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! I could hate, if I did not more pity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These bands of mercenary Europeans,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So wanting in the common sense of nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As, without shame, to sell themselves for pelf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To aid the cause of darkness, murder man—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without inquiry murder, and yet call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their trade the trade of honour—high-soul'd honour—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet honour shall accord in act with falsehood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, that proud man should e'er descend to play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tempter's part, and lure men to their ruin!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deceit and honour badly pair together.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You have much shew of reason; yet, methinks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What you suggest of one, whom fickle Fortune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her changeling mood, hath hurl'd, unpitying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her topmost height to lowest misery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tastes not of charity. André, I mean.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I mean him, too; sunk by misdeed, not fortune.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fortune and chance, Oh, most convenient words!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man runs the wild career of blind ambition,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plunges in vice, takes falsehood for his buoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when he feels the waves of ruin o'er him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Curses, in "good set terms," poor Lady Fortune.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General</span> [<i>sportively to <span class="smcap">Seward</span></i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His mood is all untoward; let us leave him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tho' he may think that he is bound to rail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">We are not bound to hear him.</span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>To <span class="smcap">M'Donald</span>.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">Grant you that?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, freely, freely! you I never rail on.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No thanks for that; you've courtesy for office.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You slander me.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Slander that would not wound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worthy M'Donald, though it suits full well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_522" id="Page_522">[Pg 522]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The virtuous man to frown on all misdeeds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet ever keep in mind that man is frail;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His tide of passion struggling still with Reason's<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair and favourable gale, and adverse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Driving his unstable Bark upon the<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rocks of error. Should he sink thus shipwreck'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure it is not Virtue's voice that triumphs<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">In his ruin. I must seek rest. Adieu!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exeunt <span class="smcap">General</span> and <span class="smcap">Seward</span>.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Both good and great thou art: first among men:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By nature, or by early habit, grac'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that blest quality which gives due force<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To every faculty, and keeps the mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In healthful equipoise, ready for action;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Invaluable temperance—by all<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">To be acquired, yet scarcely known to any.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>End of the First Act.</i></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="ACT_II" id="ACT_II"></a>ACT II.</h2> + + +<p class="gap2 center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, <i>a Prison.</i></p> + +<div class="hangdir"><p><i><span class="smcap">André</span>, discovered in a pensive posture, sitting at a table; a book +by him and candles: his dress neglected, his hair dishevelled: +he rises and comes forward.</i></p></div> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Kind heaven be thank'd for that I stand alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this sad hour of life's brief pilgrimage!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Single in misery; no one else involving,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In grief, in shame, and ruin. 'T is my comfort.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou, my thrice honour'd sire, in peace went'st down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the tomb, nor knew to blush, nor knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pang for me! And thou, revered matron,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Couldst bless thy child, and yield thy breath in peace!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wife shall weep, no child lament, my loss.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus may I consolation find in what<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was once my woe. I little thought to joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In not possessing, as I erst possest,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_523" id="Page_523">[Pg 523]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy love, Honora! André's death, perhaps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May cause a cloud pass o'er thy lovely face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pearly tear may steal from either eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou mayest feel a transient pang, nor wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A husband's rights: more than a transient pang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O mayest thou never feel! The morn draws nigh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To light me to my shame. Frail nature shrinks.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And <i>is</i> death then so fearful? I have brav'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Him, fearless, in the field, and steel'd my breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against his thousand horrors; but his cool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His sure approach, requires a fortitude<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Which nought but conscious rectitude can give.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Retires, and sits leaning.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Bland</span> unperceived by <span class="smcap">André</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And is that André! Oh, how chang'd! Alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is that martial fire, that generous warmth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which glow'd his manly countenance throughout,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gave to every look, to every act,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tone of high chivalrous animation?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">André, my friend! look up.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Who calls <i>me</i> friend?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Arthur Bland.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André</span> [<i>rising</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4 befstagedir">That name sounds like a friend's.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>With emotion.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">I have inquir'd for thee—wish'd much to see thee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I prithee take no note of these fool's tears—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart was full—and seeing thee—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland</span> [<i>embracing him</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i16">O André!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have but now arrived from the south—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor heard—till now—of this—I cannot speak.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is this a place?—Oh, thus to find my friend!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still dost thou call me friend? I, who dared act<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against my reason, my declared opinion;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_524" id="Page_524">[Pg 524]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against my conscience, and a soldier's fame?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft in the generous heat of glowing youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft have I said how fully I despis'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All bribery base, all treacherous tricks in war:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rather my blood should bathe these hostile shores,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And have it said, "he died a gallant soldier,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than with my country's gold encourage treason,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thereby purchase gratitude and fame.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still mayest thou say it, for thy heart's the same.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still is my heart the same: still may I say it:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now my deeds will rise against my words;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And should I dare to talk of honest truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frank undissembling probity and faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Memory would crimson o'er my burning cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And actions retrospected choke the tale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still is my heart the same. But there has past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A day, an hour—which ne'er can be recall'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unhappy man! tho' all thy life pass pure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mark'd by benevolence thy every deed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The out-spread map, which shews the way thou'st trod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without one devious track, or doubtful line;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It all avails thee nought, if in one hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One hapless hour, thy feet are led astray;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy happy deeds, all blotted from remembrance;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cancel'd the record of thy former good.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it not hard, my friend? Is 't not unjust?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not every record cancel'd—Oh, there are hearts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Virtue's image, when 't is once engrav'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can never know erasure.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10 befstagedir">Generous Bland!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Takes his hand.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">The hour draws nigh which ends my life's sad story.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should be firm—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">By heaven thou shalt not die!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou dost not sure deserve it. Betray'd, perhaps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_525" id="Page_525">[Pg 525]</a></span>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Condemn'd without due circumstance made known?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou didst not mean to tempt our officers?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betray our yeoman soldiers to destruction?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent. Nay, then 't was from a duteous wish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To serve the cause thou wast in honour bound—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Kind is my Bland, who to his generous heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still finds excuses for his erring friend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Attentive hear and judge me.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleas'd with the honours daily shower'd upon me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I glow'd with martial heat, my name to raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the vulgar herd, who live to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And die to be forgotten. Thus I stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, avarice or ambition Arnold tempted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His country, fame, and honour to betray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Linking his name to infamy eternal.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In confidence it was to be propos'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To plan with him the means which should ensure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy country's downfall. Nothing then I saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But confidential favour in the service,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My country's glory, and my mounting fame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgot my former purity of thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And high-ton'd honour's scruples disregarded.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was thy duty so to serve thy country.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, nay; be cautious ever to admit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That duty can beget dissimulation.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On ground, unoccupied by either part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neutral esteem'd, I landed, and was met.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ere my conference was with Arnold clos'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day began to dawn: I then was told<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That till the night I must my safety seek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In close concealment. Within your posts convey'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found myself involv'd in unthought dangers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night came. I sought the vessel which had borne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me to the fatal spot; but she was gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Retreat that way cut off, again I sought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Concealment with the traitors of your army.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_526" id="Page_526">[Pg 526]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arnold now granted passes, and I doff'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My martial garb, and put on curs'd disguise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus in a peasant's form I pass'd your posts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when, as I conceiv'd, my danger o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was stopt and seiz'd by some returning scouts.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So did ambition lead me, step by step,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To treat with traitors, and encourage treason;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then, bewilder'd in the guilty scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To quit my martial designating badges,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deny my name, and sink into the spy.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou didst no more than was a soldier's duty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To serve the part on which he drew his sword.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt not die for this. Straight will I fly—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I surely shall prevail—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">It is in vain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All has been tried. Each friendly argument—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All has not yet been tried. The powerful voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of friendship in thy cause, has not been heard.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My General favours <i>me</i>, and loves my father—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My gallant father! would that he were here!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he, perhaps, now wants an André's care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cheer his hours—perhaps, now languishes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst those horrors whence thou sav'd'st his son!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The present moment claims my thought. André—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fly to save thee!—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Bland, it is in vain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, hold—there is a service thou may'st do me.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Speak it.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Oh, think, and as a soldier think,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How I must die—The <i>manner</i> of my death—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the base ruffian, or the midnight thief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ta'en in the act of stealing from the poor,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_527" id="Page_527">[Pg 527]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be turn'd off the felon's—murderer's cart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mid-air spectacle to gaping clowns:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To run a short, an envied course of glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And end it on a gibbet.——<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">Damnation!!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such is my doom. Oh! have the manner changed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of mere death I'll think not. Dost thou think—?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps thou canst gain <i>that</i>——?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland</span> [<i>almost in a frenzy</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">Thou shalt not die!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let me, Oh! let me die a soldier's death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While friendly clouds of smoke shroud from all eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My last convulsive pangs, and I'm content.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland</span> [<i>with increasing emotion</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt not die! Curse on the laws of war!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If worth like thine must thus be sacrificed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To policy so cruel and unjust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will forswear my country and her service:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll hie me to the Briton, and with fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sword, and every instrument of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or devastation, join in the work of war!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What, shall worth weigh for nought? I will avenge thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hold, hold, my friend; thy country's woes are full.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What! wouldst thou make me cause another traitor?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more of this; and, if I die, believe me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy country for my death incurs no blame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restrain thy ardour—but ceaselessly intreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That André may at least die as he lived,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A soldier.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">By heaven thou shalt not die!—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="hangdir"><p>[<i><span class="smcap">Bland</span> rushes off: <span class="smcap">André</span> looks after him with an expression +of love and gratitude, then retires up the stage. Scene closes.</i>]<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_528" id="Page_528">[Pg 528]</a></span></p></div> + + +<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, <i>the <span class="smcap">General's</span> Quarters.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">M'Donald</span> and <span class="smcap">Seward</span>, in conversation.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald</span> [<i>coming forward</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Three thousand miles the Atlantic wave rolls on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which bathed Columbia's shores, ere, on the strand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Europe, or of Afric, their continents,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or sea-girt isles, it chafes.—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">Oh! would to heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in mid-way between these sever'd worlds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose barriers, all impassable to man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cutting off intercourse, till either side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had lost all memory of the other!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What spur now goads thy warm imagination?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then might, perhaps, one land on earth be found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free from th' extremes of poverty and riches;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where ne'er a scepter'd tyrant should be known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or tyrant lordling, curses of creation;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the faint shrieks of woe-exhausted age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Raving, in feeble madness, o'er the corse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a polluted daughter, stained by lust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of viand-pamper'd luxury, might ne'er be heard;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the blasted form of much abused<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty, by villainy seduced, by knowledge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All unguarded, might ne'er be view'd, flitting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Obscene, 'tween lamp and lamp, i' th' midnight street<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all defiling city; where the child——<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hold! Shroud thy raven imagination!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Torture not me with images so curst!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soon shall our foes, inglorious, fly these shores.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace shall again return. Then Europe's ports<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall pour a herd upon us, far more fell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_529" id="Page_529">[Pg 529]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than those, her mercenary sons, who, now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Threaten our sore chastisement.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">Prophet of ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Europe shall enriching commerce flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many an ill attendant; but from thence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall likewise flow blest Science. Europe's knowledge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By sharp experience bought, we should appropriate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Striving thus to leap from that simplicity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ignorance curst, to that simplicity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By knowledge blest; unknown the gulf between.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mere theoretic dreaming!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Blest wisdom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems, from out the chaos of the social world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where good and ill, in strange commixture, float,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rise, by strong necessity, impell'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Starting, like Love divine, from womb of Night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Illuming all, to order all reducing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shewing, by its bright and noontide blaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That happiness alone proceeds from justice.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dreams, dreams! Man can know nought but ill on earth.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'll to my bed, for I have watch'd all night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may my sleep give pleasing repetition<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Of these my waking dreams! Virtue's incentives.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Folly's chimeras rather: guides to error.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Bland</span>, preceded by a <span class="smcap">Sergeant</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Sergeant.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Pacquets for the General.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Seward, my friend!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_530" id="Page_530">[Pg 530]</a></span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Captain! I'm glad to see the hue of health<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sit on a visage from the sallow south.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lustihood of youth hath yet defied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The parching sun, and chilling dew of even.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The General—Seward—?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">I will lead you to him.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seward, I must make bold. Leave us together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When occasion offers. 'T will be friendly.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">I will not cross your purpose.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exeunt.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, <i>A Chamber.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, ever be this day a festival<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my domestic calendar. This morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will see my husband free. Even now, perhaps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere yet Aurora flies the eastern hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shunning the sultry sun, my Bland embarks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already, on the Hudson's dancing wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He chides the sluggish rowers, or supplicates<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For gales propitious; that his eager arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May clasp his wife, may bless his little ones.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! how the tide of joy makes my heart bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glowing with high and ardent expectation!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter two <span class="smcap">Children</span>.</i></p> + +<div style="margin-left:50%;margin-right:50%"> +<div style="margin-left:-12em;margin-right:-12em;"> +<p class="center">1st <span class="smcap">Child.</span></p> + +<p>Here we are, Mama, up, and dress'd already.</p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> + +<p>And why were ye so early?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_531" id="Page_531">[Pg 531]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">1st <span class="smcap">Child.</span></p> + +<p>Why, did not you tell us that Papa was to be home to-day?</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> + +<p>I said, perhaps.</p> + +<p class="center">2nd <span class="smcap">Child</span> [<i>disappointed</i>].</p> + +<p>Perhaps!</p> + +<p class="center">1st <span class="smcap">Child.</span></p> + +<p>I don't like perhaps's.</p> + +<p class="center">2nd <span class="smcap">Child.</span></p> + +<p>No, nor I neither; nor "may be so's."</p> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We make not certainties, my pretty loves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do not like "perhaps's" more than you do.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div style="margin-left:50%;margin-right:50%"> +<div style="margin-left:-12em;margin-right:-12em;"> + +<p class="center">2nd <span class="smcap">Child.</span></p> + +<p>Oh! don't say so, Mama! for I'm sure I hardly ever ask you +anything but you answer me with "may be so," "perhaps,"—or +"very likely." "Mama, shall I go to the camp to-morrow, +and see the General?" "May be so, my dear." Hang "may be +so," say I.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> + +<p>Well said, Sir Pertness.</p> + +<p class="center">1st <span class="smcap">Child.</span></p> + +<p>But I am sure, Mama, you said, that, to-day, Papa would have +his liberty.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> + +<p>So, your dear father, by his letters, told me.</p> + +<p class="center">2nd <span class="smcap">Child.</span></p> + +<p>Why, then, I <i>am sure</i> he will be here to-day. When he can come +<i>to us</i>, I'm sure he will not stay among those strange Englishmen +and Hessians. I often wish'd that I had wings to fly, for then I +would soon be with him.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> + +<p>Dear boy!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_532" id="Page_532">[Pg 532]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Servant</span> and gives a letter to <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland</span>.</i></p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Servant.</span></p> + +<p>An express, madam, from New-York to Headquarters, in +passing, delivered this.</p> + +<p class="center">2nd <span class="smcap">Child.</span></p> + +<p class="befstagedir">Papa's coming home to-day, John.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="stagedir" style="margin-right:10%"> [<i>Exeunt <span class="smcap">Servant</span> and <span class="smcap">Children</span>.</i></p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What fears assail me! Oh! I did not want<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A letter now! [<i>She reads in great agitation, exclaiming, while her eyes are fixed on the paper.</i>]<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">My husband! doom'd to die! Retaliation!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>She looks forward with wildness, consternation and horror.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">To die, if André dies! He dies to-day!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My husband to be murdered! And to-day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-day, if André dies! Retaliation!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O curst contrivance!—Madness relieve me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burst, burst, my brain!—Yet—André is not dead:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My husband lives. [<i>Looks at the letter.</i>] "One man has power."<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">I fly to save the father of my children!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Rushes out.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>End of the Second Act.</i></p> + + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="ACT_III" id="ACT_III"></a>ACT III.</h2> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, <i>the <span class="smcap">General's</span> Quarters.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>The <span class="smcap">General</span> and <span class="smcap">Bland</span> come forward.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General</span> [<i>papers in his hand</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Captain, you are noted here with honourable<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praises. Depend upon that countenance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From me, which you have prov'd yourself so richly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meriting. Both for your father's virtues,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And your own, your country owes you honour—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sole return the poor can make for service.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If from my country ought I've merited,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or gain'd the approbation of her champion,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_533" id="Page_533">[Pg 533]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">At any other time, I should not dare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Presumptuously, to shew my sense of it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now, my tongue, all shameless, dares to name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boon, the precious recompense, I wish,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, granted, pays all service, past or future,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'erpays the utmost I can e'er achieve.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brief, my young friend, briefly, your purpose.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I have done my duty as a soldier;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I have brav'd all dangers for my country;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If my brave father has deserved ought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call all to mind—and cancel all—but grant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My one request—mine, and humanity's.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be less profuse of words, and name your wish;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If fit, its fitness is the best assurance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That not in vain you sue; but, if unjust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy merits, nor the merits of thy race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cannot its nature alter, nor my mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From its determined opposition change.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You hold the fate of my most lov'd of friends;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As gallant soldier as e'er faced a foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless'd with each polish'd gift of social life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every virtue of humanity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me, a saviour from the pit of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me, and many more my countrymen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! could my words portray him what he is;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring to your mind the blessings of his deeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thro' the fever-heated, loathsome holds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of floating hulks, dungeons obscene, where ne'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dewy breeze of morn, or evening's coolness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breath'd on our parching skins, he pass'd along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diffusing blessings; still his power exerting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To alleviate the woes which ruthless war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps, thro' dire necessity, heap'd on us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surely, the scene would move you to forget<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_534" id="Page_534">[Pg 534]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">His late intent—(tho' only serving then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As duty prompted)—and turn the rigour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of War's iron law from him, the best of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meant only for the worst.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Captain, no more.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If André lives, the prisoner finds a friend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Else helpless and forlorn—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All men will bless the act, and bless thee for it.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Think'st thou thy country would not curse the man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, by a clemency ill-tim'd, ill-judg'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Encourag'd treason? That <i>pride</i> encourag'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, by denying us the rights of nations,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath caus'd those ills which thou hast now portray'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our prisoners, brave and generous peasantry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As rebels have been treated, not as men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T is mine, brave yeomen, to assert your rights;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T is mine to teach the foe, that, though array'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In rude simplicity, ye, yet, are men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rank among the foremost. Oft their scouts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very refuse of the English arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unquestion'd, have our countrymen consign'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To death, when captur'd, mocking their agonies.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Curse them! [<i>Checking himself.</i>] Yet let not censure fall on André.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, there are Englishmen as brave, as good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ever land on earth might call its own;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gallant André is among the best!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since they have hurl'd war on us, we must shew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That by the laws of war we will abide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And have the power to bring their acts for trial,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that tribunal, eminent 'mongst men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Erected by the policy of nations,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stem the flood of ills, which else fell war<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_535" id="Page_535">[Pg 535]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would pour, uncheck'd, upon the sickening world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweeping away all trace of civil life.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To pardon him would not encourage ill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His case is singular: his station high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His qualities admired; his virtues lov'd.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No more, my good young friend: it is in vain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The men entrusted with thy country's rights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have weigh'd, attentive, every circumstance.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An individual's virtue is, by them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As highly prized as it can be by thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know the virtues of this man, and love them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the destiny of millions, millions<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet unborn, depends upon the rigour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this moment. The haughty Briton laughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To scorn our armies and our councils. Mercy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Humanity, call loudly, that we make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our now despised power be felt, vindictive.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Millions demand the death of this young man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My injur'd country, he his forfeit life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must yield, to shield thy lacerated breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From torture. [<i>To <span class="smcap">Bland</span>.</i>] Thy merits are not overlook'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Promotion shall immediately attend thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland</span> [<i>with contemptuous irony</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pardon me, sir, I never shall deserve it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">[<i>With increasing heat.</i>] The country that forgets to reverence virtue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That makes no difference 'twixt the sordid wretch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, for reward, risks treason's penalty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And him unfortunate, whose duteous service<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is, by mere accident, so chang'd in form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to assume guilt's semblance, I serve not:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scorn to serve. I have a soldier's honour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But 't is in union with a freeman's judgment,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I act, both prompt. Thus from my helm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tear, what once I proudly thought, the badge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of virtuous fellowship. [<i>Tears the cockade from his helmet.</i>] My sword I keep. [<i>Puts on his helmet.</i>]<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_536" id="Page_536">[Pg 536]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would, André, thou hadst never put thine off!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then hadst thou through opposers' hearts made way<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">To liberty, or bravely pierc'd thine own!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rash, headstrong, maddening boy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had not this action past without a witness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Duty would ask that thou shouldst rue thy folly—<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">But, for the motive, be the deed forgotten.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, <i>a Village.</i></p> + +<div class="hangdir"><p><i>At a distance some tents. In front muskets, drums, and other indications +of soldiers' quarters.</i></p></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland</span> and <span class="smcap">Children</span>, attended by <span class="smcap">Melville</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The General's doors to you are ever open.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But why, my worthy friend, this agitation?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Colonel, your husband——<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland</span> [<i>in tears, gives him the letter</i>].</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Read, Melville.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div style="margin-left:50%;margin-right:50%"> +<div style="margin-left:-12em;margin-right:-12em;"> + +<p class="center">1st <span class="smcap">Child.</span></p> + +<p>Do not cry, Mama, for I'm sure if Papa said he would come +home to-day he will come yet: for he always does what he says +he will.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> + +<p>He cannot come, dear love; they will not let him.</p> + +<p class="center">2nd <span class="smcap">Child.</span></p> + +<p>Why, then, they told him lies. Oh, fie upon them!</p> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville</span> [<i>returning the letter</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fear nothing, Madam, 't is an empty threat:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A trick of policy. They dare not do it.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! alas! what dares not power to do?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What art of reasoning, or what magic words,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can still the storm of fears these lines have rais'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wife's, the mother's fears? Ye innocents,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_537" id="Page_537">[Pg 537]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unconscious on the brink of what a perilous<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Precipice ye stand, unknowing that to-day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye are cast down the gulf, poor babes, ye weep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From sympathy. Children of sorrow, nurst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nurtur'd, midst camps and arms; unknowing man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as man's fell destroyer; must ye now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To crown your piteous fate, be fatherless?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, lead me, lead me to him! Let me kneel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let these, my children, kneel, till André, pardon'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ensures to me a husband, them a father.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Madam, duty forbids further attendance.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am on guard to-day. But see your son;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him I leave your guidance. Good wishes<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Prosper you!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit <span class="smcap">Melville</span>.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Bland</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">My Arthur, O my Arthur!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">My mother!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Embracing her.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">My son, I have been wishing<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">For you——<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Bursts into tears, unable to proceed.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But whence this grief, these tears, my mother?<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Why are these little cheeks bedew'd with sorrow?<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>He kisses the children, who exclaim</i>, Brother, brother!<br /></div> +<span class="i0">Have I done ought to cause a mother's sadness?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No, my brave boy! I oft have fear'd, but never<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrow'd for thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">High praise!—Then bless me, Madam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I have pass'd through many a bustling scene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since I have seen a father or a mother.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_538" id="Page_538">[Pg 538]</a></span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bless thee, my boy! O bless him, bless him, Heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Render him worthy to support these babes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So soon, perhaps, all fatherless—dependent.—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What mean'st thou, madam? Why these tears?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Thy father——<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A prisoner of war—I long have known it—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But made so without blemish to his honour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon exchang'd, returns unto his friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To guard these little ones, and point and lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To virtue and to glory.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Never, never!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His life, a sacrifice to André's <i>manes</i>,<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must soon be offer'd. Even now, endungeon'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a vile felon, on the earth he lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His death expecting. André's execution<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gives signal for the murder of thy father—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">André now dies!—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland</span> [<i>despairingly</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">My father and my friend!!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is but one on earth can save my husband—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But one can pardon André.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Haste, my mother!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt prevail. Take with thee in each hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An unoffending child of him thou weep'st.<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Save—save them both! This way—haste—lean on me.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exeunt.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_539" id="Page_539">[Pg 539]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, <i>the <span class="smcap">General's</span> Quarters.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter the <span class="smcap">General</span> and <span class="smcap">M'Donald</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Here</i> have I intimation from the foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That still they deem the spy we have condemn'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Merely a captive; by the laws of arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From death protected; and retaliation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they term it, threaten, if we our purpose hold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bland is the victim they have singled out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoping his threaten'd death will André save.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I were Bland I boldly might advise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My General how to act. Free, and in safety,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will now suppose my counsel needless.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter an <span class="smcap">American Officer</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Officer.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Another flag hath from the foe arriv'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And craves admittance.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10 befstagedir">Conduct it hither.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit <span class="smcap">Officer</span>.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">Let us, unwearied hear, unbias'd judge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er against our martial court's decision,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our enemies can bring.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">British Officer</span>, conducted by the <span class="smcap">American Officer</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">You are welcome, sir.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What further says Sir Henry?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">British Officer.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">This from him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He calls on you to think what weighty woes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You now are busy bringing on your country.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He bids me say, that, if your sentence reach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prisoner's life (prisoner of arms he deems him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no spy), on him alone it falls not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He bids me loud proclaim it, and declare,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_540" id="Page_540">[Pg 540]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">If this brave officer, by cruel mockery<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of war's stern law, and justice's feign'd pretence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be murder'd; the sequel of our strife, bloody,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unsparing and remorseless, <i>you</i> will make.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think of the many captives in our power.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already one is mark'd; for André mark'd;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when his death, unparallel'd in war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The signal gives, then Colonel Bland must die.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'T is well, sir; bear this message in return.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sir Henry Clinton knows the laws of arms:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is a soldier, and, I think, a brave one.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The prisoners he retains he must account for.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps the reckoning's near. I, likewise, am<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A soldier; entrusted by my country.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What I shall judge most for that country's good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shall I do. When doubtful, I consult<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My country's friends; never her enemies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In André's case there are no doubts: 't is clear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sir Henry Clinton knows it.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">British Officer.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Weigh consequences.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In strict regard to consequence I act;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And much should doubt to call that action right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">However specious, whose apparent end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was misery to man. That brave officer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose death you threaten, for himself drew not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His sword—his country's wrongs arous'd his mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her good alone his aim; and if his fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can further fire that country to resistance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He will, with smiles, yield up his glorious life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And count his death a gain; and tho' Columbians<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Will lament his fall, they will lament in blood.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i><span class="smcap">General</span> walks up the stage.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hear this! hear this, mankind!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_541" id="Page_541">[Pg 541]</a></span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">British Officer.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">Thus am I answered?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter a <span class="smcap">Sergeant</span> with a letter.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Sergeant.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Express from Colonel Bland.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Delivers it and exit.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12 befstagedir">With your permission.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Opens it.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">British Officer.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your pleasure, sir. It may my mission further.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, Bland! my countryman, surely I know thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'T is short: I will put form aside, and read it.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div style="margin-left:50%;margin-right:50%"> +<div style="margin-left:-12em;margin-right:-12em;"> + +<p>[<i>Reads.</i>] "Excuse me, my Commander, for having a moment +doubted your virtue: but you love me. If you waver, let this +confirm you. My wife and children, to you and my country. +Do <i>your</i> duty." Report this to your General.</p> + +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">British Officer.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12 befstagedir">I shall, sir.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Bows, and exit with <span class="smcap">American Officer</span>.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">O, Bland! my countryman!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit with emotion.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Triumph of virtue!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like him and thee, still be Americans.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, tho' all-powerful Europe league against us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pour in arms her legions on our shores;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who is so dull would doubt their shameful flight?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who doubt our safety, and our glorious triumph?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, <i>the Prison.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Bland</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lingering, I come to crush the bud of hope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My breath has, flattering, to existence warm'd.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_542" id="Page_542">[Pg 542]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hard is the task to friendship! hard to say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the lov'd object there remains no hope,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No consolation for thee; thou <i>must</i> die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The worst of deaths; no circumstance abated.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">André</span> in his uniform, and dress'd.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is there that state on earth which friendship cannot cheer?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Little <i>I</i> bring to cheer thee, André.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I understand. 'T is well. 'T will soon be past.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, 't was not much I ask'd. A soldier's death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A trifling change of form.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Of that I spoke not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By vehemence of passion hurried on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pleaded for thy precious life alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The which denied, my indignation barr'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All further parley. But strong solicitation<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now is urg'd to gain the wish'd-for favour.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is 't o'clock?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">'T is past the stroke of nine.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why, then, 't is almost o'er. But to be hung—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is there no way to escape that infamy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What then <i>is</i> infamy?—no matter—no matter.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our General hath received another flag.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soliciting for me?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">On thy behalf.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_543" id="Page_543">[Pg 543]</a></span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have been ever favour'd.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Threat'nings, now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more solicitations. Harsh, indeed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The import of the message: harsh, indeed.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am sorry for it. Would that I were dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all was well with those I leave behind.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such a threat! Is it not enough, just heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I must lose this man? Yet there was left<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One for my soul to rest on. But, to know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the same blow deprives them both of life—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What mean'st thou, Bland? Surely my General<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Threats not retaliation. In vengeance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dooms not some better man to die for me?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The best of men.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Thou hast a father, captive—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dare not ask—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">That father dies for thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gracious heaven! how woes are heap'd upon me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What! cannot one, so trifling in life's scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fall, without drawing such a ponderous ruin?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave me, my friend, awhile—I yet have life—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little space of life—let me exert it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To prevent injustice:—From death to save<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy father, thee to save from utter desolation.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What mean'st thou, André?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_544" id="Page_544">[Pg 544]</a></span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Seek thou the messenger<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who brought this threat. I will my last entreaty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send by him. My General, sure, will grant it.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">To the last thyself!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">If, at this moment,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the pangs of death already touch me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Firmly my mind against injustice strives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the last impulse to my vital powers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is given by anxious wishes to redeem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fellowmen from pain; surely my end,<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Howe'er accomplished, is not infamous.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>End of the Third Act.</i></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="ACT_IV" id="ACT_IV"></a>ACT IV.</h2> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, <i>the Encampment.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">M'Donald</span> and <span class="smcap">Bland</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It doth in truth appear, that as a—spy—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Detested word!—brave André must be view'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His sentence he confesses strictly just.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet sure a deed of mercy, from <i>thy</i> hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could never lead to ill. By such an act,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stern and blood-stain'd brow of War<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would be disarm'd of half its gorgon horrors;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More humanized customs be induced;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the race of civilized man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be blest in the example. Be it thy suit:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'T will well become thy character and station.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Trust me, young friend, I am alone the judge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of what becomes my character and station:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And having judg'd that this young Briton's death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even 'though attended by thy father's murder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is necessary, in these times accurs'd,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_545" id="Page_545">[Pg 545]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">When every thought of man is ting'd with blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not stir my finger to redeem them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, much I wonder, Bland, having so oft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The reasons for this necessary rigour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enforced upon thee, thou wilt still persist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain solicitations. Imitate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy father!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">My father knew not André.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know his value; owe to him my life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, gratitude, that first, that best of virtues,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without the which man sinks beneath the brute,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Binds me in ties indissoluble to him.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That man-created virtue blinds thy reason.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man owes to man all love; when exercised,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He does no more than duty. Gratitude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That selfish rule of action, which commands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we our preference make of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not for their worth, but that they did <i>us</i> service,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Misleading reason, casting in the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of justice stumbling-blocks, cannot be virtue.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Detested sophistry!—'T was André sav'd me!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He sav'd thy life, and thou art grateful for it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How self intrudes, delusive, on man's thoughts!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sav'd thy life, yet strove to damn thy country;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doom'd millions to the haughty Briton's yoke;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The best, and foremost in the cause of virtue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To death, by sword, by prison, or the halter:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His sacrifice now stands the only bar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the wanton cruelties of war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our much-suffering soldiers: yet, when weigh'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gratitude, for that he sav'd <i>thy</i> life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These things prove gossamer, and balance air:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perversion monstrous of man's moral sense!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_546" id="Page_546">[Pg 546]</a></span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rather perversion monstrous of all good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is thy accurs'd, detestable opinion.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cold-blooded reasoners, such as thee, would blast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All warm affection; asunder sever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every social tie of humanized man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Curst be thy sophisms! cunningly contriv'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The callous coldness of thy heart to cover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And screen thee from the brave man's detestation.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Boy, boy!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Thou knowest that André's not a spy.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know him one. Thou hast acknowledg'd it.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou liest!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Shame on thy ruffian tongue! how passion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mars thee! I pity thee! Thou canst not harm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By words intemperate, a virtuous man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pity thee! for passion sometimes sways<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My older frame, through former uncheck'd habit:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when I see the havoc which it makes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In others, I can shun the snare accurst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nothing feel but pity.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland</span> [<i>indignantly</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Pity me!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Approaches him, and speaks in an under voice.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">Thou canst be cool, yet, trust me, <i>passion</i> sways thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Fear</i> does not <i>warm</i> the blood, yet 't is a <i>passion</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast thou no feeling? I have call'd thee liar!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If thou could'st make me one, I then might grieve.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy coolness goes to freezing: thou'rt a coward.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou knowest thou tell'st a falsehood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_547" id="Page_547">[Pg 547]</a></span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Thou shalt know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None with impunity speaks thus of me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to rouse thy courage. [<i>Touches him gently, with his open hand, +in crossing him. <span class="smcap">M'Donald</span> looks at him unmoved.</i>] +Dost thou not yet feel?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For <i>thee</i> I feel. And tho' another's acts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cast no dishonour on the worthy man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I still feel for thy father. Yet, remember,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may not, haply, ever be thus guarded;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may not always the distinction make.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">However just, between the blow intended<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To provoke, and one that's meant to injure.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hast thou no sense of honour?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Truly, yes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I am honour's votary. Honour, with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is worth: 't is truth; 't is virtue; 't is a thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So high pre-eminent, that a boy's breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or brute's, or madman's blow, can never reach it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My honour is so much, so truly mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That none hath power to wound it, save myself.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will proclaim thee through the camp a coward.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Think better of it! Proclaim not thine own shame.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">I'll brand thee—Damnation!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">O, passion, passion!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A man who values fame, far more than life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A brave young man; in many things a good;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Utters vile falsehood; adds injury to insult;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Striving with blood to seal such foul injustice;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_548" id="Page_548">[Pg 548]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">And all from impulse of unbridled feeling.—<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Pause.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">Here comes the mother of this headstrong boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Severely rack'd—What shall allay her torture?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For common consolation, <i>here</i>, is insult.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland</span> and <span class="smcap">Children</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O my good friend!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald</span> [<i>taking her hand</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">I know thy cause of sorrow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art thou now from our Commander?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland</span> [<i>drying her tears, and assuming dignity</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">I am.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But vain is my entreaty. All unmov'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hears my words, he sees my desperate sorrow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fain would I blame his conduct—but I cannot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strictly examin'd, with intent to mark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The error which so fatal proves to <i>me</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My scrutiny but ends in admiration.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus when the prophet from the Hills of Moab,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look'd down upon the chosen race of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fell intent to curse; ere yet he spake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Truth all resistless, emanation bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From great Adonai, fill'd his froward mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chang'd the curses of his heart to blessings.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou payest high praise to virtue. Whither now?—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I still must hover round this spot until<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My doom is known.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Then to my quarters, lady,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There shall my mate give comfort and refreshment:<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">One of your sex can best your sorrows soothe.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exeunt.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_549" id="Page_549">[Pg 549]</a></span><br /></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, <i>the Prison.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Bland</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where'er I look cold desolation meets me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father—André—and self-condemnation!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why seek I André now? Am <i>I</i> a man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To soothe the sorrows of a suffering friend?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weather-cock of passion! fool inebriate!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who could with ruffian hand strive to provoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoar wisdom to intemperance! who could lie!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aye, swagger, lie, and brag!—Liar! Damnation!!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, let me steal away and hide my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor view a man, condemn'd to harshest death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose words and actions, when by mine compar'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shew white as innocence, and bright as truth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I now would shun him; but that his shorten'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thread of life, gives me no line to play with.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He comes, with smiles, and all the air of triumph;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I am sinking with remorse and shame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet <i>he</i> is doom'd to death, and <i>I</i> am free!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">André</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Welcome, my Bland! Cheerly, a welcome hither!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel assurance that my last request<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will not be slighted. Safely thy father<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall return to thee. [<i>Holding out a paper.</i>] See what employment<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a dying man. Take thou these verses;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, after my decease, send them to her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose name is woven in them; whose image<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath controul'd my destiny. Such tokens<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are rather out of date. Fashions<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are in love as in all else; they change<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As variously. A gallant Knight, erewhile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Cœur de Lion's day, would, dying, send<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His heart home to its mistress; degenerate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soldier I, send but some blotted paper.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_550" id="Page_550">[Pg 550]</a></span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If 't would not damp thy present cheerfulness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would require the meaning of thy words.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ne'er till now did hear of André's mistress.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mine is a story of that common kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So often told, with scanty variation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the pall'd ear loaths the repeated tale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each young romancer chooses for his theme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The woes of youthful hearts, by the cold hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of frosty Age, arm'd with parental power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Asunder torn. But I long since have ceas'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mourn; well satisfied that she I love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happy in holy union with another,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shares not my wayward fortunes. Nor would I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now these tokens send, remembrance to awaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that I know her happy: and the happy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can think on misery and share it not.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland</span> [<i>agitated</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some one approaches.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Why, 't is near the time.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But tell me, Bland, say—is the manner chang'd?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hope it—but I yet have no assurance.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well, well!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora</span> [<i>without</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I must see him.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Whose voice was that?<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">My senses!—Do I dream—?<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Leans on <span class="smcap">Bland</span>.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Honora</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Where is he?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_551" id="Page_551">[Pg 551]</a></span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14 befstagedir">'T is she!!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Starts from <span class="smcap">Bland</span> and advances towards <span class="smcap">Honora</span>; she rushes into his arms.</i>]<br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">It is enough! He lives, and <i>I</i> shall save him.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>She faints in the arms of <span class="smcap">André</span>.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">She sinks—assist me, Bland! O, save her, save her!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Places her in a chair, and looks tenderly on her.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">Yet, why should she awake from that sweet sleep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should she open her eyes—[<i>Wildly.</i>]—to see me hung!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What does she here? Stand off—[<i>Tenderly.</i>]—and let her die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How pale she looks! how worn that tender frame!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She has known sorrow! Who could injure her?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">She revives—André—soft, bend her forward.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i><span class="smcap">André</span> kneels and supports her.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">André—!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Lov'd excellence!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2 befstagedir">Yes, it is André!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Rises and looks at him.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">No more deceived by visionary forms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">By him supported—<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Leans on him.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Why is this?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou dost look pale, Honora—sick and wan—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Languid thy fainting limbs—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">All will be well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But was it kind to leave me as thou didst—?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So rashly to desert thy vow-link'd wife?—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When made another's both by vows and laws<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_552" id="Page_552">[Pg 552]</a></span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora</span> [<i>quitting his support</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What meanest thou?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Didst thou not marry him?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Marry!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Didst thou not give thy hand away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From me?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O, never, never!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Not married?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To none but thee, and but in will to thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O blind, blind wretch!—Thy father told me——<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou wast deceived. They hurried me away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spreading false rumours to remove thy love—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">[<i>Tenderly.</i>] Thou didst too soon believe them.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">Thy father—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How could I but believe Honora's father?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he did tell me so. I reverenced age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet knew, age was not virtue. I believed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His snowy locks, and yet they did deceive me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have destroy'd myself and thee!—Alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ill-fated maid! why didst thou not forget me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast thou rude seas and hostile shores explor'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this? To see my death? Witness my shame?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I come to bless thee, André; and shall do it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bear such offers from thy kind Commander,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As must prevail to save thee. Thus the daughter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May repair the ills her cruel sire inflicted.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father, dying, gave me cause to think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_553" id="Page_553">[Pg 553]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">That arts were us'd to drive thee from thy home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what those arts I knew not. An heiress left,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of years mature, with power and liberty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I straight resolv'd to seek thee o'er the seas.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A long-known friend who came to join her lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yielded protection and lov'd fellowship.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Indeed, when I did hear of thy estate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It almost kill'd me:—I was weak before—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'T is I have murder'd thee!—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">All shall be well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy General heard of me, and instant form'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The plan of this my visit. I am strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compar'd with what I was. Hope strengthens me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, even solicitude supports me now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when thou shalt be safe, <i>thou</i> wilt support me.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Support thee!—O heaven! What!—And must I die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Die!—and leave her <i>thus</i>—suffering—unprotected!—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Melville</span> and <span class="smcap">Guard</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am sorry that my duty should require<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Service, at which my heart revolts; but, sir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our soldiers wait in arms. All is prepar'd——<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To death!—Impossible! Has my delay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, murder'd him?—A momentary respite—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lady, I have no power.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Melville, my friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This lady bears dispatches of high import,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touching this business:—should they arrive too late—<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_554" id="Page_554">[Pg 554]</a></span>—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For pity's sake, and heaven's, conduct me to him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wait the issue of our conference.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, 't would be murder of the blackest dye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin execrable, not to break thy orders—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inhuman, thou art not.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Lady, thou say'st true;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For rather would I lose my rank in arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stand cashier'd for lack of discipline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than, gain 'mongst military men all praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wanting the touch of sweet humanity.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou grantest my request?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Melville.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Lady, I do.<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Retire!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i><span class="smcap">Soldiers</span> go out.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know not what excuse, to martial men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou canst advance for this; but to thy heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt need none, good Melville.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">O, Honora!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cheer up, I feel assur'd. Hope wings my flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">To bring thee tidings of much joy to come.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit <span class="smcap">Honora</span>, with <span class="smcap">Bland</span> and <span class="smcap">Melville</span>.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Eternal blessings on thee, matchless woman!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If death now comes, he finds the veriest coward<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That e'er he dealt withal. I cannot think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of dying. Void of fortitude, each thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Clings to the world—the world that holds Honora!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>End of the Fourth Act.</i></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_555" id="Page_555">[Pg 555]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="ACT_V" id="ACT_V"></a>ACT V.</h2> + + +<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, <i>the Encampment.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Bland</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Suspense—uncertainty—man's bane and solace!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How racking now to me! My mother comes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgive me, O my father! if in this war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This wasting conflict of my wildering passions,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Memory of thee holds here a second place!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">M'Donald comes with her. I would not meet him:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet I will do it. Summon up some courage—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confess my fault, and gain, if not <i>his</i> love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At least the approbation of <i>my</i> judgment.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland</span> and <span class="smcap">Children</span> with <span class="smcap">M'Donald</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Say, madam, is there no change of counsel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or new determination?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10"><i>Nought new</i>, my son.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tale of misery is told unheard.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The widow's and the orphans' sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fly up, unnoted by the eye of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mingle, undistinguish'd, with the winds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My friend [<i>To <span class="smcap">M'Donald</span>.</i>], attend thy duties. I must away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center">2nd <span class="smcap">Child.</span></p> + +<div style="margin-left:50%;margin-right:50%"> +<div style="margin-left:-12em;margin-right:-12em;"> +<p>You need not cry, Mama, the General will do it, I am sure; +for I saw him cry. He turn'd away his head from you, but I +saw it.</p> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Poor thing! come let us home and weep. Alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">I can no more, for war hath made men rocks.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exeunt <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland</span> and <span class="smcap">Children</span>.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Colonel, I used thee ill this morning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_556" id="Page_556">[Pg 556]</a></span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">No!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thyself thou used'st most vilely, I remember.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Myself sustained the injury, most true;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the intent of what I said and did<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was ill to thee alone: I'm sorry for it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seest thou these blushes? They proceed from warmth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As honest as the heart of man e'er felt;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not with shame unmingled, while I force<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This tongue, debased, to own, it slander'd thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And utter'd—I could curse it—utter'd falsehood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Howe'er misled by passion, still my mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Retains that sense of honest rectitude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which makes the memory of an evil deed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A troublesome companion. I was wrong.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why, now this glads me; for thou <i>now</i> art right.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, may thy tongue, henceforward, utter nought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Truth's sweet precepts, in fair Virtue's cause!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me thy hand. [<i>Takes his hand.</i>] Ne'er may it grasp a sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in defense of justice.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Yet, erewhile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A few short hours scarce past, when this vile hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Attempted on <i>thee</i> insult; and was raised<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against thy honour; ready to be raised<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against thy life. If this my deep remorse—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No more, no more. 'T is past. Remember it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as thou would'st the action of another,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thy enlighten'd judgment much condemn'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And serving as a beacon in the storms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy passions yet may raise. Remorse is vice:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guard thee against its influence debasing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say to thyself, "I am not what I was;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am not <i>now</i> the instrument of vice;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_557" id="Page_557">[Pg 557]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm changed; I am a man; Virtue's firm friend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sever'd for ever from my former self;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No link, but in remembrance salutary."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">[How<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> all men tower above me!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">Nay, not so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above what once thou wast, some few do rise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None above what thou art.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It shall be so.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">It is so.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Then to prove it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I must yet a trial undergo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">That will require a consciousness of virtue.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, what a temper doth in man reside!<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">How capable of yet unthought perfection!]<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, <i>the <span class="smcap">General's</span> Quarters.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">General</span> and <span class="smcap">Seward</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Ask her, my friend, to send by thee her pacquets.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit <span class="smcap">Seward</span>.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">Oh, what keen struggles must I undergo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unbless'd estate! to have the power to pardon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The court's stern sentence to remit;—give life;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feel the strong wish to use such blessed power;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet know that circumstances strong as fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forbid to obey the impulse. Oh, I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That man should never shed the blood of man!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_558" id="Page_558">[Pg 558]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Seward</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nought can the lovely suitor satisfy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But conference with thee, and much I fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Refusal would cause madness.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Yet to admit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear, be tortur'd, and refuse at last—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Seward.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sure never man such spectacle of sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw before. Motionless the rough-hewn soldiers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent view her, or walk aside and weep.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General</span> [<i>after a pause</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Admit her. [<i><span class="smcap">Seward</span> goes out.</i>] Oh, for the art, the precious art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To reconcile the sufferer to his sorrows!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="hangdir"><p>[<i><span class="smcap">Honora</span> rushes in, and throws herself wildly on her knees before +him; he endeavours to raise her.</i></p></div> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, nay, here is my place, or here, or lower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unless thou grant'st his life. All forms away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus will I clasp thy knees, thus cling to thee.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am his wife—'tis I have ruin'd him—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, save him! Give him to me! Let us cross<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">The mighty seas, far, far—ne'er to offend again.—<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>The <span class="smcap">General</span> turns away, and hides his eyes with his hand.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Seward</span> and an <span class="smcap">Officer</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Seward, support her—my heart is torn in twain.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i><span class="smcap">Honora</span> as if exhausted, suffers herself to be raised, and leans on <span class="smcap">Seward</span>.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Officer.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This moment, sir, a messenger arrived<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With well confirm'd and mournful information,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gallant Hastings, by the lawless scouts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Britain taken, after cruel mockery<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With shew of trial and condemnation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the next tree was hung.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_559" id="Page_559">[Pg 559]</a></span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora</span> [<i>wildly</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Oh, it is false!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">General.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Why, why, my country, did I hesitate?<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Exit.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="stagedir" style="margin-right:10%">[<i><span class="smcap">Honora</span> sinks, faints, and is borne off by <span class="smcap">Seward</span> and <span class="smcap">Officer</span>.</i></p> + + + +<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, <i>the Prison.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i><span class="smcap">André</span> meeting <span class="smcap">Bland</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How speeds Honora? [<i>Pause.</i>] Art thou silent, Bland?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, then I know my task. The mind of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If not by vice debas'd, debilitated,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or by disease of body quite unton'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath o'er its thoughts a power—energy divine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fortitude the source and every virtue—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A godlike power, which e'en o'er circumstance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its sov'reignty exerts. Now, from my thoughts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honora! Yet she is left alone—expos'd—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, André, spurn me, strike me to the earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what a wretch am I, in André's mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he can think he leaves his love alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I retaining life!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Forgive me, Bland,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My thoughts glanc'd not on thee. Imagination<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pictur'd only, then, her orphan state, helpless;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her weak and grief-exhausted frame. Alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This blow will kill her!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland</span> [<i>kneeling</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Here do I myself<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devote, my fortune consecrate, to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thy remembrance, and Honora's service!—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Enough! Let me not see her more—nor think of her—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell! farewell, sweet image! Now for death.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_560" id="Page_560">[Pg 560]</a></span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet that you shouldst the felon's fate fulfill—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Damnation! my blood boils. Indignation<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes the current of my life course wildly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through its round, and maddens each emotion.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, come, it matters not.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">I do remember,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a boy, at school, in our allotted tasks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We, by our puny acts, strove to portray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The giant thoughts of Otway. I was Pierre.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, thou art Pierre's reality! a soldier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On whose manly brow sits fortitude enamour'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Mars, abhorring vice, yet doom'd to die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A death of infamy; thy corse expos'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">To vulgar gaze—halter'd—distorted—Oh!!<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Pauses, and then adds in a low, hollow voice.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">Pierre had a friend to save him from such shame—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so hast thou.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">No more, as thou dost love me.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have a sword, and arm, that never fail'd me.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bland, such an act would justly thee involve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave that helpless one thou sworest to guard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expos'd to every ill. Oh! think not of it.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">If thou wilt not my aid—take it thyself.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Draws and offers his sword.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No, men will say that cowardice did urge me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my mind's weakness, I did wish to shun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mode of death which error represented<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Infamous: Now let me rise superior;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a fortitude too true to start<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From mere appearances, shew your country,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_561" id="Page_561">[Pg 561]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">That she, in me, destroys a man who might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have liv'd to virtue.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland</span> [<i>sheathing his sword</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">I will not think more of it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was again the sport of erring passion.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go thou and guide Honora from this spot.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora</span> [<i>entering</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who shall oppose his wife? I will have way!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They, cruel, would have kept me from thee, André.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, am I not thy wife? <i>Wilt</i> thou deny me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Indeed I am not dress'd in bridal trim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I have travel'd far:—rough was the road—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rugged and rough—that must excuse my dress.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">[<i>Seeing <span class="smcap">André's</span> distress.</i>] Thou art not glad to see me.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">Break my heart!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Indeed, I feel not much in spirits. I wept but now.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Melville</span> and <span class="smcap">Guard</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland</span> [<i>to <span class="smcap">Melville</span></i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Say nothing.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">I am ready.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora</span> [<i>seeing the <span class="smcap">Guard</span></i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Are <i>they</i> here?<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Here</i> again!—The <i>same</i>—but they shall not harm me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am with <i>thee</i>, my André—I am safe—<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">And <i>thou</i> art safe with me. Is it not so?<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Clinging to him.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland</span>.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where is this lovely victim?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_562" id="Page_562">[Pg 562]</a></span><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Thanks, my mother.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">M'Donald sent me hither. My woes are past.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy father, by the foe releas'd, already<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is in safety. This be forgotten now;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every thought be turn'd to this sad scene.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, lady, home with me.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Go home with thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art thou my André's mother? We will home<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">And rest, for thou art weary—very weary.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>Leans on <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland</span>.</i><br /></div> +</div></div> + +<div class="hangdir"><p>[<i><span class="smcap">André</span> retires to the <span class="smcap">Guard</span>, and goes off with them, looking on her +to the last, and with an action of extreme tenderness takes leave +of her. <span class="smcap">Melville</span> and <span class="smcap">Bland</span> accompany him.</i></p></div> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Honora.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now we will go. Come, love! Where is he?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All gone!—I do remember—I awake—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have him. Murder! Help! Oh, save him! save him!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<div class="hangdir"><p>[<i><span class="smcap">Honora</span> attempts to follow, but falls. <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bland</span> kneels to assist +her. Scene closes.</i></p></div> + + + +<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Scene</span>, <i>the Encampment.</i></p> + +<div class="hangdir"><p><i>Procession to the execution of <span class="smcap">André.</span> First enter Pioneers—Detachment +of Infantry—Military Band of Music—Infantry. +The Music having passed off, enter <span class="smcap">André</span> between <span class="smcap">Melville</span> +and <span class="smcap">American Officer</span>; they sorrowful, he cheerfully conversing +as he passes over the stage.</i></p></div> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">André.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It may in me be merely prejudice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The effect of young-opinion deep engraved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the tender mind by care parental;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I must think your country has mistook<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her interests. Believe me, but for this I should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_563" id="Page_563">[Pg 563]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Not willingly have drawn a sword against her.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i>They bow their heads in silence.</i><br /></div> +<span class="i0">Opinion must, nay ought, to sway our actions;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="hangdir"><p><i>Having crossed the stage, he goes out as still conversing with them. +Another detachment of Infantry, with muffled and craped drums, +close the procession: as soon as they are off—</i></p> + +<p><i>Scene draws and discovers the distant view of the Encampment.</i></p> + +<p><i>Procession enters in same order as before, proceeds up the stage, +and goes off on the opposite side.</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">M'Donald</span>, leading <span class="smcap">Bland</span>, who looks wildly back.</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dare not <i>thee</i> resist. Yet why, O, why<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus hurry me away—?—<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Would'st thou behold——<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, name it not!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Or would'st thou, by thy looks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gestures wild, o'erthrow that manly calmness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, or assum'd or felt, so well becomes thy friend?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What means that cannon's sound?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald</span> [<i>after a pause</i>].</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">Signal of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appointed. André, thy friend, is now no more!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bland.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, farewell, brave spirit! O, let my countrymen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforward, when the cruelties of war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arise in their remembrance; when their ready<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speech would pour forth torrents in their foe's dispraise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0 befstagedir">Think on this act accurst, and lock complaint in silence.<br /></span> +<div class="stagedir"> [<i><span class="smcap">Bland</span> throws himself on the earth.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_564" id="Page_564">[Pg 564]</a></span><br /></div> +</div></div> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">M'Donald.</span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such are the dictates of the heart, not head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, may the children of Columbia still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be taught by every teacher of mankind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each circumstance of calculative gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wounded pride, which prompted our oppressors:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May every child be taught to lisp the tale:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may, in times to come, no foreign force,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No European influence, tempt to misstate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or awe the tongue of eloquence to silence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still may our children's children deep abhor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The motives, doubly deep detest the actors;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever remembering, that the race who plan'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who acquiesced, or did the deeds abhor'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has pass'd from off the earth; and, in its stead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand men who challenge love or detestation<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But from their proper, individual deeds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never let memory of the sire's offence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Descend upon the son.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center"><i>Curtain drops.</i></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> <a href="#Page_557">See p. 557</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Spirit of the dead; shade.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Insert the lines which were substituted after the first night for the lines here +put in brackets. They are given in the Preface, <a href="#Page_509">page 509</a>.</p></div> + +</div> + +<div class="tnote"> +<p class="center"><b>Transcribers' Notes</b></p> +<p>Variable hyphenation of god(-)like has been preserved as in the original.</p> + +<p>Inconsistent inconclusion of acute accent on ANDRÉ as in the original.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of André, by William Dunlap + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANDRÉ *** + +***** This file should be named 29229-h.htm or 29229-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/2/2/29229/ + +Produced by David Starner, Brownfox and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Andre + +Author: William Dunlap + +Editor: Montrose J. Moses + +Release Date: June 26, 2009 [EBook #29229] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANDRE *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Brownfox and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES + +This e-book contains the text of _Andre_, extracted from Representative +Plays by American Dramatists: Vol 1, 1765-1819. Comments and background to +all the plays and the other plays are available at Project Gutenberg. + +Spelling as in the original has been preserved. + + + + +ANDRE + +_By_ + +WILLIAM DUNLAP + +[Illustration: WILLIAM DUNLAP] + + + + +WILLIAM DUNLAP: + +FATHER OF THE AMERICAN THEATRE + +(1766-1839) + + +The life of William Dunlap is full of colour and variety. Upon his +shoulders very largely rests the responsibility for whatever knowledge we +have of the atmosphere of the early theatre in America, and of the +personalities of the players. For, as a boy, his father being a Loyalist, +there is no doubt that young William used to frequent the play-house of +the Red Coats, and we would like to believe actually saw some of the +performances with which Major Andre was connected. + +He was born at Perth Amboy, then the seat of government for the Province +of New Jersey, on February 19, 1766 (where he died September 28, 1839), +and, therefore, as an historian of the theatre, he was able to glean his +information from first hand sources. Yet, his monumental work on the +"History of the American Theatre" was written in late years, when memory +was beginning to be overclouded, and, in recent times, it has been shown +that Dunlap was not always careful in his dates or in his statements. +George Seilhamer, whose three volumes, dealing with the American Theatre +before the year 1800, are invaluable, is particularly acrimonious in his +strictures against Dunlap. Nevertheless, he has to confess his +indebtedness to the Father of the American Theatre. + +Dunlap was many-sided in his tastes and activities. There is small reason +to doubt that from his earliest years the theatre proved his most +attractive pleasure. But, when he was scarcely in the flush of youth, he +went to Europe, and studied art under Benjamin West. Throughout his life +he was ever producing canvases, and designing, and his interest in the art +activity of the country, which connects his name with the establishment of +the New York Academy of Design, together with his writing on the subject, +make him an important figure in that line of work. + +On his return from Europe, as we have already noted, he was fired to write +plays through the success of Royall Tyler, and he began his long career as +dramatist, which threw him upon his own inventive resourcefulness, and so +closely identified him with the name of the German, Kotzebue, whose plays +he used to translate and adapt by the wholesale, as did also Charles +Smith. + +The pictures of William Dunlap are very careful to indicate in realistic +fashion the fact that he had but one eye. When a boy, one of his playmates +at school threw a stone, which hit his right eye. But though he was thus +early made single-visioned, he saw more than his contemporaries; for he +was a man who mingled much in the social life of the time, and he had a +variety of friends, among them Charles Brockden Brown, the novelist, and +George Frederick Cooke, the tragedian. He was the biographer for both of +them, and these volumes are filled with anecdote, which throws light, not +only on the subjects, but upon the observational taste of the writer. +There are those who claim that he was unjust to Cooke, making him more of +a drunkard than he really was. And the effect the book had on some of its +readers may excellently well be seen by Lord Byron's exclamation, after +having finished it. As quoted by Miss Crawford, in her "Romance of the +American Theatre," he said: "Such a book! I believe, since 'Drunken +Barnaby's Journal,' nothing like it has drenched the press. All green-room +and tap-room, drams and the drama. Brandy, whiskey-punch, and, latterly, +toddy, overflow every page. Two things are rather marvelous; first, that a +man should live so long drunk, and next that he should have found a sober +biographer." + +Dunlap's first play was called "The Modest Soldier; or, Love in New York" +(1787). We shall let him be his own chronicler: + + As a medium of communication between the playwriter and the + manager, a man was pointed out, who had for a time been of some + consequence on the London boards, and now resided under another + name in New York. This was the Dubellamy of the English stage, a + first singer and _walking-gentleman_. He was now past his + meridian, but still a handsome man, and was found sufficiently + easy of access and full of the courtesy of the old school. A + meeting was arranged at the City Tavern, and a bottle of Madeira + discussed with the merits of this first-born of a would-be + author. The wine was praised, and the play was praised--the + first, perhaps, made the second tolerable--that must be good + which can repay a man of the world for listening to an author + who reads his own play. + +In due course of time, the youthful playwright reached the presence of the +then all-powerful actors, Hallam and Henry, and, after some conference +with them, the play was accepted. But though accepted, it was not +produced, that auspicious occasion being deferred whenever the subject was +broached. At this time, young Dunlap was introduced to the stony paths of +playwriting. He had to alter his manuscript in many ways, only to see it +laid upon the shelf until some future occasion. And, according to his +confession, the reason the piece did not receive immediate production was +because there was no part which Henry, the six-foot, handsome idol of the +day, could see himself in to his own satisfaction. + +Dunlap's next play was "The Father; or, American Shandy-ism,"[1] which was +produced on September 7, 1789. It was published almost immediately, and +was later reprinted, under the title of "The Father of an Only Child." + +Most historians call attention to the fact that to Dunlap belongs the +credit of having first introduced to the American stage the German dialect +of the later Comedian. Even as we look to Tyler's "The Contrast" for the +first Yankee, to Samuel Low's "Politician Out-witted" for an early example +of Negro dialect, so may we trace other veins of American characteristics +as they appeared in early American dramas. + +But it is to "Darby's Return,"[2] the musical piece, that our interest +points, because it was produced for the benefit of Thomas Wignell, at the +New-York Theatre (November 24, 1789), and probably boasted among its +first-nighters George Washington. Writes Dunlap: + + The eyes of the audience were frequently bent on his + countenance, and to watch the emotions produced by any + particular passage upon him was the simultaneous employment of + all. When Wignell, as _Darby_, recounts what had befallen him in + America, in New York, at the adoption of the Federal + Constitution, and the inauguration of the President, the + interest expressed by the audience in the looks and the changes + of countenance of this great man became intense. + +And then there follows an indication by Dunlap of where Washington smiled, +and where he showed displeasure. And, altogether, there was much +perturbation of mind over every quiver of his eye-lash. The fact of the +matter is, as a playgoer, the Father of our Country figured quite as +constantly as the Father of our Theatre. When the seat of Government +changed from New York to Philadelphia, President Washington's love of the +theatre prompted many theatrical enterprises to follow in his wake, and we +have an interesting picture, painted in words by Seilhamer (ii, 316), of +the scene at the old Southwark on such an occasion. He says: + + [The President] frequently occupied the east stage-box, which + was fitted up expressly for his reception. Over the front of the + box was the United States coat-of-arms and the interior was + gracefully festooned with red drapery. The front of the box and + the seats were cushioned. According to John [_sic_] Durang, + Washington's reception at the theatre was always exceedingly + formal and ceremonious. A soldier was generally posted at each + stage-door; four soldiers were placed in the gallery; a military + guard attended. Mr. Wignell, in a full dress of black, with his + hair elaborately powdered in the fashion of the time, and + holding two wax candles in silver candle-sticks, was accustomed + to receive the President at the box-door and conduct Washington + and his party to their seats. Even the newspapers began to take + notice of the President's contemplated visits to the theatre. + +This is the atmosphere which must have attended the performance of +Dunlap's "Darby's Return." + +The play which probably is best known to-day, as by William Dunlap, is his +"Andre,"[3] in which Washington figures as the General, later to appear +under his full name, when Dunlap utilized the old drama in a manuscript +libretto, entitled "The Glory of Columbia--Her Yeomanry" (1817). The play +was produced on March 30, 1798, after Dunlap had become manager of the New +Park Theatre, within whose proscenium it was given. Professor Matthews, +editing the piece for the Dunlap Society (No. 4, 1887), claims that this +was the first drama acted in the United States during Washington's life, +in which he was made to appear on the stage of a theatre. But it must not +be forgotten that in "The Fall of British Tyranny," written in 1776, by +Leacock, Washington appears for the first time in any piece of American +fiction. Dunlap writes of the performance (American Theatre, ii, 20): + + The receipts were 817 dollars, a temporary relief. The play was + received with warm applause, until Mr. Cooper, in the character + of a young American officer, who had been treated as a brother + by Andre when a prisoner with the British, in his zeal and + gratitude, having pleaded for the life of the spy in vain, tears + the American cockade from his casque, and throws it from him. + This was not, perhaps could not be, understood by a mixed + assembly; they thought the country and its defenders insulted, + and a hiss ensued--it was soon quieted, and the play ended with + applause. But the feeling excited by the incident was propagated + out of doors. Cooper's friends wished the play withdrawn, on his + account, fearing for his popularity. However, the author made an + alteration in the incident, and subsequently all went on to the + end with applause. + +A scene from the last act of "Andre"[4] was produced at an American Drama +Matinee, under the auspices of the American Drama Committee of the Drama +League of America, New York Centre, on January 22nd and 23rd, 1917. There +are many Arnold and Andre plays, some of which have been noted by +Professor Matthews.[5] Another interesting historical study is the stage +popularity of Nathan Hale. + +We might go on indefinitely, narrating incidents connected with Dunlap as +citizen, painter, playwright, author, and theatrical manager, for within a +very short time he managed the John Street and New Park Theatres, retiring +for a while in 1805. + +But this is sufficient to illustrate the pioneer character of his work and +influence. Inaccurate he may have been in his "History of the American +Theatre," but the atmosphere is there, and he never failed to recognize +merit, and to give touches of character to the actors, without which our +impression of the early theatre in this country would be the poorer. The +name of William Dunlap is intimately associated with the beginnings of +American painting, American literary life and the American Theatre. It is +for these he will ever remain distinguished. + +As a playwright, he wrote so rapidly, and so constantly utilized over and +over again, not only his own material, but the materials of others, that +it is not surprising to find him often in dispute with dramatic authors +of the time. A typical disagreement occurred in the case of the actor John +Hodgkinson (1767-1805), whose drama, "The Man of Fortitude; or, the +Knight's Adventure," given at the John Street Theatre, on June 7, 1797, +was, according to Dunlap, based on his own one-act verse play, "The +Knight's Adventure," submitted to the actor some years before. + +Only the play, based on the 1798 edition, is here reproduced. The +authentic documents are omitted. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] The/Father;/or,/American Shandy-ism./A Comedy,/As performed at the +New-York Theatre,/By the/Old American Company./Written in the year +1788./With what fond hope, through many a blissful hour,/We give the soul +to Fancy's pleasing pow'r./Conquest of Canaan./New-York:/Printed by Hodge, +Allen & Campbell./ M, DCC, LXXXIX./ + +[2] Darby's Return:/A Comic Sketch,/As Performed at the New-York Theatre,/ +November 24, 1789,/For the Benefit of Mr. Wignell. Written by William +Dunlap./ New-York:/Printed by Hodge, Allen and Campbell./And Sold at their +respective Bookstores,/and by Berry and Rogers./M, DCC, LXXXIX./ + +[3] Andre;/A Tragedy, in Five Acts:/As Performed by the Old American +Company,/ New-York, March 30, 1798./To which are added,/Authentic +Documents/respecting/ Major Andre;/Consisting of/Letters to Miss +Seward,/The/Cow Chace,/Proceedings of the Court Martial, &c./Copy Right +Secured./New-York:/Printed by T. & J. Swords, No. 99 Pearl-street./1798./ + +[4] One of Dunlap's best-known tragedies was "Leicester," published by +David Longworth in 1807. + +[5] Freneau began a play, "The Spy" (Pattee, "Poems of Philip Freneau"), +in which Andre was a character. + + + + +[Illustration: + +ANDRE; + +A _TRAGEDY_, IN FIVE ACTS: + +AS PERFORMED BY THE OLD AMERICAN COMPANY, NEW-YORK, MARCH 30, 1798. + + +TO WHICH ARE ADDED + +AUTHENTIC DOCUMENTS + +RESPECTING + +_MAJOR ANDRE;_ + +CONSISTING OF + +LETTERS TO MISS SEWARD, + +THE + +COW CHACE, + +PROCEEDINGS OF THE COURT MARTIAL, &c. + + +_COPY RIGHT SECURED._ + + +NEW-YORK: + +Printed by T. & J. SWORDS. No. 99 Pearl-street. + +--1798.-- + +FAC-SIMILE TITLE-PAGE OF THE FIRST EDITION] + + + + +PREFACE + + +More than nine years ago the Author made choice of the death of Major +Andre as the Subject of a Tragedy, and part of what is now offered to the +public was written at that time. Many circumstances discouraged him from +finishing his Play, and among them must be reckoned a prevailing opinion +that recent events are unfit subjects for tragedy. These discouragements +have at length all given way to his desire of bringing a story on the +Stage so eminently fitted, in his opinion, to excite interest in the +breasts of an American audience. + +In exhibiting a stage representation of a real transaction, the +particulars of which are fresh in the minds of many of the audience, an +author has this peculiar difficulty to struggle with, that those who know +the events expect to see them _all_ recorded; and any deviation from what +they remember to be fact, appears to them as a fault in the poet; they are +disappointed, their expectations are not fulfilled, and the writer is more +or less condemned, not considering the difference between the poet and the +historian, or not knowing that what is intended to be exhibited is a free +poetical picture, not an exact historical portrait. + +Still further difficulties has the Tragedy of Andre to surmount, +difficulties independent of its own demerits, in its way to public favour. +The subject necessarily involves political questions; but the Author +presumes that he owes no apology to any one for having shewn himself an +American. The friends of Major Andre (and it appears that all who knew him +were his friends) will look with a jealous eye on the Poem, whose +principal incident is the sad catastrophe which his misconduct, in +submitting to be an instrument in a transaction of treachery and deceit, +justly brought upon him: but these friends have no cause of offence; the +Author has adorned the poetical character of Andre with every virtue; he +has made him his Hero; to do which, he was under the necessity of making +him condemn his own conduct, in the one dreadfully unfortunate action of +his life. To shew the effects which Major Andre's excellent qualities had +upon the minds of men, the Author has drawn a generous and amiable youth, +so blinded by his love for the accomplished Briton, as to consider his +country, and the great commander of her armies, as in the commission of +such horrid injustice, that he, in the anguish of his soul, disclaims the +service. In this it appears, since the first representation, that the +Author has gone near to offend the veterans of the American army who were +present on the first night, and who not knowing the sequel of the action, +felt much disposed to condemn him: but surely they must remember the +diversity of opinion which agitated the minds of men at that time, on the +question of the propriety of putting Andre to death; and when they add the +circumstances of Andre's having saved the life of this youth, and gained +his ardent friendship, they will be inclined to mingle with their +disapprobation, a sentiment of pity, and excuse, perhaps commend the Poet, +who has represented the action without sanctioning it by his approbation. + +As a sequel to the affair of the cockade, the Author has added the +following lines, which the reader is requested to insert, page 55, between +the 5th and 15th lines, instead of the lines he will find there, which +were printed before the piece was represented.[6]-- + +BLAND. + +Noble M'Donald, truth and honour's champion! +Yet think not strange that my intemperance wrong'd thee: +Good as thou art! for, would'st thou, canst thou, think it? +My tongue, unbridled, hath the same offence, +With action violent, and boisterous tone, +Hurl'd on that glorious man, whose pious labours +Shield from every ill his grateful country! +That man, whom friends to adoration love, +And enemies revere.--Yes, M'Donald, +Even in the presence of the first of men +Did I abjure the service of my country, +And reft my helmet of that glorious badge +Which graces even the brow of Washington. +How shall I see him more!-- + +M'DONALD. + +Alive himself to every generous impulse, +He hath excus'd the impetuous warmth of youth, +In expectation that thy fiery soul, +Chasten'd by time and reason, will receive +The stamp indelible of godlike virtue. +To me, in trust, he gave this badge disclaim'd, +With power, when thou shouldst see thy wrongful error, +From him, to reinstate it in thy helm, +And thee in his high favour. [_Gives the cockade._ + +BLAND [_takes the cockade and replaces it_]. + +Shall I speak my thoughts of thee and him? +No:--let my actions henceforth shew what thou +And he have made me. Ne'er shall my helmet +Lack again its proudest, noblest ornament, +Until my country knows the rest of peace, +Or Bland the peace of death! [_Exit._ + +This alteration, as well as the whole performance, on the second night, +met the warm approbation of the audience. + +To the performers the Author takes this opportunity of returning his +thanks for their exertions in his behalf; perfectly convinced, that on +this, as on former occasions, the members of the Old American Company have +anxiously striven to oblige him. + +If this Play is successful, it will be a proof that recent events may be +so managed in tragedy as to command popular attention; if it is +unsuccessful, the question must remain undetermined until some more +powerful writer shall again make the experiment. The Poem is now submitted +to the ordeal of closet examination, with the Author's respectful +assurance to every reader, that as it is not his interest, so it has not +been his intention, to offend any; but, on the contrary, to impress, +through the medium of a pleasing stage exhibition, the sublime lessons of +Truth and Justice upon the minds of his countrymen. + +W. DUNLAP. + +_New-York, April 4th, 1798._ + + + + +PROLOGUE + +SPOKEN BY MR. MARTIN. + + + A native Bard, a native scene displays, + And claims your candour for his daring lays: + Daring, so soon, in mimic scenes to shew, + What each remembers as a real woe. + Who has forgot when gallant ANDRE died? + A name by Fate to Sorrow's self allied. + Who has forgot, when o'er the untimely bier, + Contending armies paus'd, to drop a tear. + + Our Poet builds upon a fact tonight; + Yet claims, in building, every Poet's right; + To choose, embellish, lop, or add, or blend, + Fiction with truth, as best may suit his end; + Which, he avows, is pleasure to impart, + And move the passions but to mend the heart. + + Oh, may no party-spirit blast his views, + Or turn to ill the meanings of the Muse: + She sings of wrongs long past, Men as they were, + To instruct, without reproach, the Men that are; + Then judge the Story by the genius shewn, + And praise, or damn, it, for its worth alone. + + + + +CHARACTERS + + +GENERAL, _dress, American staff uniform, blue, faced with +buff, large gold epaulets, cocked hat, with the black and +white cockade, indicating the union with France, buff +waistcoat and breeches, boots,_ Mr. Hallam. + +M'DONALD, _a man of forty years of age, uniform nearly the +same of the first,_ Mr. Tyler. + +SEWARD, _a man of thirty years of age, staff uniform,_ Mr. Martin. + +ANDRE, _a man of twenty-nine years of age, full British +uniform after the first scene,_ Mr. Hodgkinson. + +BLAND, _a youthful but military figure, in the uniform of +a Captain of horse--dress, a short blue coat, faced with +red, and trimmed with gold lace, two small epaulets, a +white waistcoat, leather breeches, boots and spurs; over +the coat, crossing the chest from the right shoulder, a +broad buff belt, to which is suspended a manageable hussar +sword; a horseman's helmet on the head, decorated as +usual, and the union cockade affixed,_ Mr. Cooper. + +MELVILLE, _a man of middle age, and grave deportment; his +dress a Captain's uniform when on duty; a blue coat, with +red facings, gold epaulet, white waistcoat and breeches, +boots and cocked hat, with the union cockade,_ Mr. Williamson. + +BRITISH OFFICER, Mr. Hogg. + +AMERICAN OFFICER, Mr. Miller. + +CHILDREN, Master Stockwell and Miss Hogg. + +AMERICAN SERGEANT, Mr. Seymour. + +AMERICAN OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS, &c. + +MRS. BLAND, Mrs. Melmoth. + +HONORA, Mrs. Johnson. + +SCENE, the Village of Tappan, Encampment, and adjoining Country. Time, ten +hours. + + + + +ANDRE + +ACT I. + + +SCENE I. _A Wood seen by starlight; an Encampment at a distance appearing +between the trees._ + +_Enter MELVILLE._ + +MELVILLE. + +The solemn hour, "when night and morning meet," +Mysterious time, to superstition dear, +And superstition's guides, now passes by; +Deathlike in solitude. The sentinels, +In drowsy tones, from post to post, send on +The signal of the passing hour. "All's well," +Sounds through the camp. Alas! all is not well; +Else, why stand I, a man, the friend of man, +At midnight's depth, deck'd in this murderous guise, +The habiliment of death, the badge of dire, +Necessitous coercion. 'T is not well. +--In vain the enlighten'd friends of suffering man +Point out, of war, the folly, guilt, and madness. +Still, age succeeds to age, and war to war; +And man, the murderer, marshalls out his hosts +In all the gaiety of festive pomp, +To spread around him death and desolation. +How long! how long!---- +--Methinks I hear the tread of feet this way. +My meditating mood may work me woe. [_Draws._ +Stand, whoso'er thou art. Answer. Who's there? + +_Enter BLAND._ + +BLAND. + +A friend. + +MELVILLE. + +Advance and give the countersign. + +BLAND. + +Hudson. + +MELVILLE. + +What, Bland! + +BLAND. + +Melville, my friend, you _here_? + +MELVILLE. + +And _well_, my brave young friend. But why do you, +At this dead hour of night, approach the camp, +On foot, and thus alone? + +BLAND. + + I have but now +Dismounted; and, from yon sequester'd cot, +Whose lonely taper through the crannied wall +Sheds its faint beams, and twinkles midst the trees, +Have I, adventurous, grop'd my darksome way. +My servant, and my horses, spent with toil, +There wait till morn. + +MELVILLE. + + Why waited not yourself? + +BLAND. + +Anxious to know the truth of those reports +Which, from the many mouths of busy Fame, +Still, as I pass'd, struck varying on my ear, +Each making th' other void. Nor does delay +The colour of my hasteful business suit. +I bring dispatches for our great Commander; +And hasted hither with design to wait +His rising, or awake him with the sun. + +MELVILLE. + +You will not need the last, for the blest sun +Ne'er rises on his slumbers; by the dawn +We see him mounted gaily in the field, +Or find him wrapt in meditation deep, +Planning the welfare of our war-worn land. + +BLAND. + +Prosper, kind heaven! and recompense his cares. + +MELVILLE. + +You're from the South, if I presume aright? + +BLAND. + +I am; and, Melville, I am fraught with news? +The South teems with events; convulsing ones: +The Briton, there, plays at no mimic war; +With gallant face he moves, and gallantly is met. +Brave spirits, rous'd by glory, throng our camp; +The hardy hunter, skill'd to fell the deer, +Or start the sluggish bear from covert rude; +And not a clown that comes, but from his youth +Is trained to pour from far the leaden death, +To climb the steep, to struggle with the stream, +To labour firmly under scorching skies, +And bear, unshrinking, winter's roughest blast. +This, and that heaven-inspir'd enthusiasm +Which ever animates the patriot's breast, +Shall far outweigh the lack of discipline. + +MELVILLE. + +Justice is ours; what shall prevail against her? + +BLAND. + +But as I past along, many strange tales, +And monstrous rumours, have my ears assail'd: +That Arnold had prov'd false; but he was ta'en, +And hung, or to be hung--I know not what. +Another told, that all our army, with their +Much lov'd Chief, sold and betray'd, were captur'd. +But, as I nearer drew, at yonder cot, +'T was said, that Arnold, traitor like, had fled; +And that a Briton, tried and prov'd a spy, +Was, on this day, as such, to suffer death. + +MELVILLE. + +As you drew near, plain truth advanced to meet you. +'T is even as you heard, my brave young friend. +Never had people on a single throw +More interest at stake; when he, who held +For us the die, prov'd false, and play'd us foul. +But for a circumstance of that nice kind, +Of cause so microscopic, that the tongues +Of inattentive men call it the effect +Of chance, we must have lost the glorious game. + +BLAND. + +Blest, blest be heaven! whatever was the cause! + +MELVILLE. + +The blow ere this had fallen that would have bruis'd +The tender plant which we have striven to rear, +Crush'd to the dust, no more to bless this soil. + +BLAND. + +What warded off the blow? + +MELVILLE. + +The brave young man, who this day dies, was seiz'd +Within our bounds, in rustic garb disguis'd. +He offer'd bribes to tempt the band that seiz'd him; +But the rough farmer, for his country arm'd, +That soil defending which his ploughshare turn'd, +Those laws, his father chose, and he approv'd, +Cannot, as mercenary soldiers may, +Be brib'd to sell the public-weal for gold. + +BLAND. + +'T is well. Just heaven! O, grant that thus may fall +All those who seek to bring this land to woe! +All those, who, or by open force, or dark +And secret machinations, seek to shake +The Tree of Liberty, or stop its growth, +In any soil where thou hast pleas'd to plant it. + +MELVILLE. + +Yet not a heart but pities and would save him; +For all confirm that he is brave and virtuous; +Known, but till now, the darling child of Honour. + +BLAND [_contemptuously_]. + +And how is call'd this--honourable spy? + +MELVILLE. + +Andre's his name. + +BLAND [_much agitated_]. + + Andre! + +MELVILLE. + + Aye, Major Andre. + +BLAND. + +Andre! Oh no, my friend, you're sure deceiv'd-- +I'll pawn my life, my ever sacred fame, +My General's favour, or a soldier's honour, +That gallant Andre never yet put on +The guise of falsehood. Oh, it cannot be! + +MELVILLE. + +How might I be deceiv'd? I've heard him, seen him, +And what I tell, I tell from well-prov'd knowledge; +No second tale-bearer, who heard the news. + +BLAND. + +Pardon me, Melville. Oh, that well-known name, +So link'd with circumstances infamous!-- +My friend must pardon me. Thou wilt not blame +When I shall tell what cause I have to love him: +What cause to think him nothing more the pupil +Of Honour stern, than sweet Humanity. +Rememberest thou, when cover'd o'er with wounds, +And left upon the field, I fell the prey +Of Britain? To a loathsome prison-ship +Confin'd, soon had I sunk, victim of death, +A death of aggravated miseries; +But, by benevolence urg'd, this best of men, +This gallant youth, then favour'd, high in power, +Sought out the pit obscene of foul disease, +Where I, and many a suffering soldier lay, +And, like an angel, seeking good for man, +Restor'd us light, and partial liberty. +Me he mark'd out his own. He nurst and cur'd, +He lov'd and made his friend. I liv'd by him, +And in my heart he liv'd, till, when exchang'd, +Duty and honour call'd me from my friend.-- +Judge how my heart is tortur'd.--Gracious heaven! +Thus, thus to meet him on the brink of death-- +A death so infamous! Heav'n grant my prayer. [_Kneels._ +That I may save him, O, inspire my heart +With thoughts, my tongue with words that move to pity! [_Rises._ +Quick, Melville, shew me where my Andre lies. + +MELVILLE. + +Good wishes go with you. + +BLAND. + +I'll save my friend. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE, _the Encampment, by starlight._ + +_Enter the GENERAL, M'DONALD and SEWARD._ + +GENERAL. + +'T is well. Each sentinel upon his post +Stands firm, and meets me at the bayonet's point; +While in his tent the weary soldier lies, +The sweet reward of wholesome toil enjoying; +Resting secure as erst within his cot +He careless slept, his rural labour o'er; +Ere Britons dar'd to violate those laws, +Those boasted laws by which themselves are govern'd, +And strove to make their fellow-subjects slaves. + +SEWARD. + +They know to whom they owe their present safety. + +GENERAL. + +I hope they know that to themselves they owe it: +To that good discipline which they observe, +The discipline of men to order train'd, +Who know its value, and in whom 't is virtue: +To that prompt hardihood with which they meet +Or toil or danger, poverty or death. +Mankind who know not whence that spirit springs, +Which holds at bay all Britain's boasted power, +Gaze on their deeds astonish'd. See the youth +Start from his plough, and straightway play the hero; +Unmurmuring bear such toils as veterans shun; +Rest all content upon the dampsome earth; +Follow undaunted to the deathful charge; +Or, when occasion asks, lead to the breach, +Fearless of all the unusual din of war, +His former peaceful mates. O patriotism! +Thou wond'rous principle of god-like action! +Wherever liberty is found, there reigns +The love of country. Now the self-same spirit +Which fill'd the breast of great Leonidas, +Swells in the hearts of thousands on these plains, +Thousands who never heard the hero's tale. +'T is this alone which saves thee, O my country! +And, till that spirit flies these western shores, +No power on earth shall crush thee! + +SEWARD. + + 'T is wond'rous! +The men of other climes from this shall see +How easy 't is to shake oppression off; +How all resistless is an union'd people: +And hence, from our success (which, by my soul, +I feel as much secur'd, as though our foes +Were now within their floating prisons hous'd, +And their proud prows all pointing to the east), +Shall other nations break their galling fetters, +And re-assume the dignity of man. + +M'DONALD. + +Are other nations in that happy state, +That, having broke Coercion's iron yoke, +They can submit to Order's gentle voice, +And walk on earth self-ruled? I much do fear it. +As to ourselves, in truth, I nothing see, +In all the wond'rous deeds which we perform, +But plain effects from causes full as plain. +Rises not man for ever 'gainst oppression? +It is the law of life; he can't avoid it. +But when the love of property unites +With sense of injuries past, and dread of future. +Is it then wonderful, that he should brave +A lesser evil to avoid a greater? + +GENERAL [_sportively_]. + +'T is hard, quite hard, we may not please ourselves, +By our great deeds ascribing to our virtue. + +SEWARD. + +M'Donald never spares to lash our pride. + +M'DONALD. + +In truth I know of nought to make you proud. +I think there's none within the camp that draws +With better will his sword than does M'Donald. +I have a home to guard. My son is--butcher'd-- + +SEWARD. + +Hast thou no nobler motives for thy arms +Than love of property and thirst of vengeance? + +M'DONALD. + +Yes, my good Seward, and yet nothing wond'rous. +I love this country for the sake of man. +My parents, and I thank them, cross'd the seas, +And made me native of fair Nature's world, +With room to grow and thrive in. I have thriven; +And feel my mind unshackled, free, expanding, +Grasping, with ken unbounded, mighty thoughts, +At which, if chance my mother had, good dame, +In Scotia, our revered parent soil, +Given me to see the day, I should have shrunk +Affrighted. Now, I see in this new world +A resting spot for man, if he can stand +Firm in his place, while Europe howls around him, +And all unsettled as the thoughts of vice, +Each nation in its turn threats him with feeble malice. +One trial, now, we prove; and I have met it. + +GENERAL. + +And met it like a man, my brave M'Donald. + +M'DONALD. + +I hope so; and I hope my every act +Has been the offspring of deliberate judgment; +Yet, feeling second's reason's cool resolves. +Oh! I could hate, if I did not more pity, +These bands of mercenary Europeans, +So wanting in the common sense of nature, +As, without shame, to sell themselves for pelf, +To aid the cause of darkness, murder man-- +Without inquiry murder, and yet call +Their trade the trade of honour--high-soul'd honour-- +Yet honour shall accord in act with falsehood. +Oh, that proud man should e'er descend to play +The tempter's part, and lure men to their ruin! +Deceit and honour badly pair together. + +SEWARD. + +You have much shew of reason; yet, methinks +What you suggest of one, whom fickle Fortune, +In her changeling mood, hath hurl'd, unpitying, +From her topmost height to lowest misery, +Tastes not of charity. Andre, I mean. + +M'DONALD. + +I mean him, too; sunk by misdeed, not fortune. +Fortune and chance, Oh, most convenient words! +Man runs the wild career of blind ambition, +Plunges in vice, takes falsehood for his buoy, +And when he feels the waves of ruin o'er him, +Curses, in "good set terms," poor Lady Fortune. + +GENERAL [_sportively to SEWARD_]. + +His mood is all untoward; let us leave him. +Tho' he may think that he is bound to rail, +We are not bound to hear him. [_To M'DONALD._ +Grant you that? + +M'DONALD. + +Oh, freely, freely! you I never rail on. + +GENERAL. + +No thanks for that; you've courtesy for office. + +M'DONALD. + +You slander me. + +GENERAL. + + Slander that would not wound. +Worthy M'Donald, though it suits full well +The virtuous man to frown on all misdeeds; +Yet ever keep in mind that man is frail; +His tide of passion struggling still with Reason's +Fair and favourable gale, and adverse +Driving his unstable Bark upon the +Rocks of error. Should he sink thus shipwreck'd, +Sure it is not Virtue's voice that triumphs +In his ruin. I must seek rest. Adieu! + + [_Exeunt GENERAL and SEWARD._ + +M'DONALD. + +Both good and great thou art: first among men: +By nature, or by early habit, grac'd +With that blest quality which gives due force +To every faculty, and keeps the mind +In healthful equipoise, ready for action; +Invaluable temperance--by all +To be acquired, yet scarcely known to any. [_Exit._ + +_End of the First Act._ + + + + +ACT II. + + +SCENE, _a Prison._ + +_ANDRE, discovered in a pensive posture, sitting at a table; a book by + him and candles: his dress neglected, his hair dishevelled: he rises + and comes forward._ + +ANDRE. + +Kind heaven be thank'd for that I stand alone +In this sad hour of life's brief pilgrimage! +Single in misery; no one else involving, +In grief, in shame, and ruin. 'T is my comfort. +Thou, my thrice honour'd sire, in peace went'st down +Unto the tomb, nor knew to blush, nor knew +A pang for me! And thou, revered matron, +Couldst bless thy child, and yield thy breath in peace! +No wife shall weep, no child lament, my loss. +Thus may I consolation find in what +Was once my woe. I little thought to joy +In not possessing, as I erst possest, +Thy love, Honora! Andre's death, perhaps, +May cause a cloud pass o'er thy lovely face; +The pearly tear may steal from either eye; +For thou mayest feel a transient pang, nor wrong +A husband's rights: more than a transient pang +O mayest thou never feel! The morn draws nigh +To light me to my shame. Frail nature shrinks.-- +And _is_ death then so fearful? I have brav'd +Him, fearless, in the field, and steel'd my breast +Against his thousand horrors; but his cool, +His sure approach, requires a fortitude +Which nought but conscious rectitude can give. + + [_Retires, and sits leaning._ + +_Enter BLAND unperceived by ANDRE._ + +BLAND. + +And is that Andre! Oh, how chang'd! Alas! +Where is that martial fire, that generous warmth, +Which glow'd his manly countenance throughout, +And gave to every look, to every act, +The tone of high chivalrous animation?-- +Andre, my friend! look up. + +ANDRE. + + Who calls _me_ friend? + +BLAND. + +Young Arthur Bland. + +ANDRE [_rising_]. + + That name sounds like a friend's. [_With emotion._ +I have inquir'd for thee--wish'd much to see thee-- +I prithee take no note of these fool's tears-- +My heart was full--and seeing thee-- + +BLAND [_embracing him_]. + + O Andre!-- +I have but now arrived from the south-- +Nor heard--till now--of this--I cannot speak. +Is this a place?--Oh, thus to find my friend! + +ANDRE. + +Still dost thou call me friend? I, who dared act +Against my reason, my declared opinion; +Against my conscience, and a soldier's fame? +Oft in the generous heat of glowing youth, +Oft have I said how fully I despis'd +All bribery base, all treacherous tricks in war: +Rather my blood should bathe these hostile shores, +And have it said, "he died a gallant soldier," +Than with my country's gold encourage treason, +And thereby purchase gratitude and fame. + +BLAND. + +Still mayest thou say it, for thy heart's the same. + +ANDRE. + +Still is my heart the same: still may I say it: +But now my deeds will rise against my words; +And should I dare to talk of honest truth, +Frank undissembling probity and faith, +Memory would crimson o'er my burning cheek, +And actions retrospected choke the tale. +Still is my heart the same. But there has past +A day, an hour--which ne'er can be recall'd! +Unhappy man! tho' all thy life pass pure; +Mark'd by benevolence thy every deed; +The out-spread map, which shews the way thou'st trod, +Without one devious track, or doubtful line; +It all avails thee nought, if in one hour, +One hapless hour, thy feet are led astray;-- +Thy happy deeds, all blotted from remembrance; +Cancel'd the record of thy former good. +Is it not hard, my friend? Is 't not unjust? + +BLAND. + +Not every record cancel'd--Oh, there are hearts, +Where Virtue's image, when 't is once engrav'd, +Can never know erasure. + +ANDRE. + + Generous Bland! [_Takes his hand._ +The hour draws nigh which ends my life's sad story. +I should be firm-- + +BLAND. + + By heaven thou shalt not die! +Thou dost not sure deserve it. Betray'd, perhaps-- +Condemn'd without due circumstance made known? +Thou didst not mean to tempt our officers? +Betray our yeoman soldiers to destruction? +Silent. Nay, then 't was from a duteous wish +To serve the cause thou wast in honour bound-- + +ANDRE. + +Kind is my Bland, who to his generous heart, +Still finds excuses for his erring friend. +Attentive hear and judge me.-- +Pleas'd with the honours daily shower'd upon me, +I glow'd with martial heat, my name to raise +Above the vulgar herd, who live to die, +And die to be forgotten. Thus I stood, +When, avarice or ambition Arnold tempted, +His country, fame, and honour to betray; +Linking his name to infamy eternal. +In confidence it was to be propos'd, +To plan with him the means which should ensure +Thy country's downfall. Nothing then I saw +But confidential favour in the service, +My country's glory, and my mounting fame; +Forgot my former purity of thought, +And high-ton'd honour's scruples disregarded. + +BLAND. + +It was thy duty so to serve thy country. + +ANDRE. + +Nay, nay; be cautious ever to admit +That duty can beget dissimulation. +On ground, unoccupied by either part, +Neutral esteem'd, I landed, and was met. +But ere my conference was with Arnold clos'd, +The day began to dawn: I then was told +That till the night I must my safety seek +In close concealment. Within your posts convey'd, +I found myself involv'd in unthought dangers. +Night came. I sought the vessel which had borne +Me to the fatal spot; but she was gone. +Retreat that way cut off, again I sought +Concealment with the traitors of your army. +Arnold now granted passes, and I doff'd +My martial garb, and put on curs'd disguise! +Thus in a peasant's form I pass'd your posts; +And when, as I conceiv'd, my danger o'er, +Was stopt and seiz'd by some returning scouts. +So did ambition lead me, step by step, +To treat with traitors, and encourage treason; +And then, bewilder'd in the guilty scene, +To quit my martial designating badges, +Deny my name, and sink into the spy. + +BLAND. + +Thou didst no more than was a soldier's duty, +To serve the part on which he drew his sword. +Thou shalt not die for this. Straight will I fly-- +I surely shall prevail-- + +ANDRE. + + It is in vain. +All has been tried. Each friendly argument-- + +BLAND. + +All has not yet been tried. The powerful voice +Of friendship in thy cause, has not been heard. +My General favours _me_, and loves my father-- +My gallant father! would that he were here! +But he, perhaps, now wants an Andre's care, +To cheer his hours--perhaps, now languishes +Amidst those horrors whence thou sav'd'st his son! +The present moment claims my thought. Andre-- +I fly to save thee!-- + +ANDRE. + + Bland, it is in vain. +But, hold--there is a service thou may'st do me. + +BLAND. + +Speak it. + +ANDRE. + + Oh, think, and as a soldier think, +How I must die--The _manner_ of my death-- +Like the base ruffian, or the midnight thief, +Ta'en in the act of stealing from the poor, +To be turn'd off the felon's--murderer's cart, +A mid-air spectacle to gaping clowns:-- +To run a short, an envied course of glory, +And end it on a gibbet.---- + +BLAND. + + Damnation!! + +ANDRE. + +Such is my doom. Oh! have the manner changed, +And of mere death I'll think not. Dost thou think--? +Perhaps thou canst gain _that_----? + +BLAND [_almost in a frenzy_]. + + Thou shalt not die! + +ANDRE. + +Let me, Oh! let me die a soldier's death, +While friendly clouds of smoke shroud from all eyes +My last convulsive pangs, and I'm content. + +BLAND [_with increasing emotion_]. + +Thou shalt not die! Curse on the laws of war!-- +If worth like thine must thus be sacrificed, +To policy so cruel and unjust, +I will forswear my country and her service: +I'll hie me to the Briton, and with fire, +And sword, and every instrument of death +Or devastation, join in the work of war! +What, shall worth weigh for nought? I will avenge thee! + +ANDRE. + +Hold, hold, my friend; thy country's woes are full. +What! wouldst thou make me cause another traitor? +No more of this; and, if I die, believe me, +Thy country for my death incurs no blame. +Restrain thy ardour--but ceaselessly intreat, +That Andre may at least die as he lived, +A soldier. + +BLAND. + + By heaven thou shalt not die!-- + +[_BLAND rushes off: ANDRE looks after him with an expression of love + and gratitude, then retires up the stage. Scene closes._] + + +SCENE, _the GENERAL'S Quarters._ + +_Enter M'DONALD and SEWARD, in conversation._ + +M'DONALD [_coming forward_]. + +Three thousand miles the Atlantic wave rolls on, +Which bathed Columbia's shores, ere, on the strand +Of Europe, or of Afric, their continents, +Or sea-girt isles, it chafes.-- + +SEWARD. + + Oh! would to heaven +That in mid-way between these sever'd worlds, +Rose barriers, all impassable to man, +Cutting off intercourse, till either side +Had lost all memory of the other! + +M'DONALD. + +What spur now goads thy warm imagination? + +SEWARD. + +Then might, perhaps, one land on earth be found, +Free from th' extremes of poverty and riches; +Where ne'er a scepter'd tyrant should be known, +Or tyrant lordling, curses of creation;-- +Where the faint shrieks of woe-exhausted age, +Raving, in feeble madness, o'er the corse +Of a polluted daughter, stained by lust +Of viand-pamper'd luxury, might ne'er be heard;-- +Where the blasted form of much abused +Beauty, by villainy seduced, by knowledge +All unguarded, might ne'er be view'd, flitting +Obscene, 'tween lamp and lamp, i' th' midnight street +Of all defiling city; where the child---- + +M'DONALD. + +Hold! Shroud thy raven imagination! +Torture not me with images so curst! + +SEWARD. + +Soon shall our foes, inglorious, fly these shores. +Peace shall again return. Then Europe's ports +Shall pour a herd upon us, far more fell +Than those, her mercenary sons, who, now, +Threaten our sore chastisement. + +M'DONALD. + + Prophet of ill, +From Europe shall enriching commerce flow, +And many an ill attendant; but from thence +Shall likewise flow blest Science. Europe's knowledge, +By sharp experience bought, we should appropriate; +Striving thus to leap from that simplicity, +With ignorance curst, to that simplicity, +By knowledge blest; unknown the gulf between. + +SEWARD. + +Mere theoretic dreaming! + +M'DONALD. + + Blest wisdom +Seems, from out the chaos of the social world, +Where good and ill, in strange commixture, float, +To rise, by strong necessity, impell'd; +Starting, like Love divine, from womb of Night, +Illuming all, to order all reducing; +And shewing, by its bright and noontide blaze, +That happiness alone proceeds from justice. + +SEWARD. + +Dreams, dreams! Man can know nought but ill on earth. + +M'DONALD. + +I'll to my bed, for I have watch'd all night; +And may my sleep give pleasing repetition +Of these my waking dreams! Virtue's incentives. [_Exit._ + +SEWARD. + +Folly's chimeras rather: guides to error. + +_Enter BLAND, preceded by a SERGEANT._ + +SERGEANT. + +Pacquets for the General. [_Exit._ + +BLAND. + + Seward, my friend! + +SEWARD. + +Captain! I'm glad to see the hue of health +Sit on a visage from the sallow south. + +BLAND. + +The lustihood of youth hath yet defied +The parching sun, and chilling dew of even. +The General--Seward--? + +SEWARD. + + I will lead you to him. + +BLAND. + +Seward, I must make bold. Leave us together, +When occasion offers. 'T will be friendly. + +SEWARD. + +I will not cross your purpose. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE, _A Chamber._ + +_Enter MRS. BLAND._ + +MRS. BLAND. + +Yes, ever be this day a festival +In my domestic calendar. This morn +Will see my husband free. Even now, perhaps, +Ere yet Aurora flies the eastern hills, +Shunning the sultry sun, my Bland embarks. +Already, on the Hudson's dancing wave, +He chides the sluggish rowers, or supplicates +For gales propitious; that his eager arms +May clasp his wife, may bless his little ones. +Oh! how the tide of joy makes my heart bound, +Glowing with high and ardent expectation! + +_Enter two CHILDREN._ + +1st CHILD. + +Here we are, Mama, up, and dress'd already. + +MRS. BLAND. + +And why were ye so early? + +1st CHILD. + +Why, did not you tell us that Papa was to be home to-day? + +MRS. BLAND. + +I said, perhaps. + +2nd CHILD [_disappointed_]. + +Perhaps! + +1st CHILD. + +I don't like perhaps's. + +2nd CHILD. + +No, nor I neither; nor "may be so's." + +MRS. BLAND. + +We make not certainties, my pretty loves; +I do not like "perhaps's" more than you do. + +2nd CHILD. + +Oh! don't say so, Mama! for I'm sure I hardly ever ask you anything but +you answer me with "may be so," "perhaps,"--or "very likely." "Mama, shall +I go to the camp to-morrow, and see the General?" "May be so, my dear." +Hang "may be so," say I. + +MRS. BLAND. + +Well said, Sir Pertness. + +1st CHILD. + +But I am sure, Mama, you said, that, to-day, Papa would have his liberty. + +MRS. BLAND. + +So, your dear father, by his letters, told me. + +2nd CHILD. + +Why, then, I _am sure_ he will be here to-day. When he can come _to us_, +I'm sure he will not stay among those strange Englishmen and Hessians. I +often wish'd that I had wings to fly, for then I would soon be with him. + +MRS. BLAND. + +Dear boy! + +_Enter SERVANT and gives a letter to MRS. BLAND._ + +SERVANT. + +An express, madam, from New-York to Headquarters, in passing, delivered +this. + +2nd CHILD. + +Papa's coming home to-day, John. + + [_Exeunt SERVANT and CHILDREN._ + +MRS. BLAND. + +What fears assail me! Oh! I did not want +A letter now! [_She reads in great agitation, exclaiming, while her eyes +are fixed on the paper._] +My husband! doom'd to die! Retaliation! + [_She looks forward with wildness, consternation and horror._ +To die, if Andre dies! He dies to-day!-- +My husband to be murdered! And to-day! +To-day, if Andre dies! Retaliation! +O curst contrivance!--Madness relieve me! +Burst, burst, my brain!--Yet--Andre is not dead: +My husband lives. [_Looks at the letter._] "One man has power." +I fly to save the father of my children! + + [_Rushes out._ + +_End of the Second Act._ + + + + +ACT III. + + +SCENE, _the GENERAL'S Quarters._ + +_The GENERAL and BLAND come forward._ + +GENERAL [_papers in his hand_]. + +Captain, you are noted here with honourable +Praises. Depend upon that countenance +From me, which you have prov'd yourself so richly +Meriting. Both for your father's virtues, +And your own, your country owes you honour-- +The sole return the poor can make for service. + +BLAND. + +If from my country ought I've merited, +Or gain'd the approbation of her champion, +At any other time, I should not dare, +Presumptuously, to shew my sense of it; +But now, my tongue, all shameless, dares to name +The boon, the precious recompense, I wish, +Which, granted, pays all service, past or future, +O'erpays the utmost I can e'er achieve. + +GENERAL. + +Brief, my young friend, briefly, your purpose. + +BLAND. + +If I have done my duty as a soldier; +If I have brav'd all dangers for my country; +If my brave father has deserved ought; +Call all to mind--and cancel all--but grant +My one request--mine, and humanity's. + +GENERAL. + +Be less profuse of words, and name your wish; +If fit, its fitness is the best assurance +That not in vain you sue; but, if unjust, +Thy merits, nor the merits of thy race, +Cannot its nature alter, nor my mind, +From its determined opposition change. + +BLAND. + +You hold the fate of my most lov'd of friends; +As gallant soldier as e'er faced a foe, +Bless'd with each polish'd gift of social life, +And every virtue of humanity. +To me, a saviour from the pit of death, +To me, and many more my countrymen. +Oh! could my words portray him what he is; +Bring to your mind the blessings of his deeds, +While thro' the fever-heated, loathsome holds, +Of floating hulks, dungeons obscene, where ne'er +The dewy breeze of morn, or evening's coolness, +Breath'd on our parching skins, he pass'd along, +Diffusing blessings; still his power exerting, +To alleviate the woes which ruthless war, +Perhaps, thro' dire necessity, heap'd on us; +Surely, the scene would move you to forget +His late intent--(tho' only serving then, +As duty prompted)--and turn the rigour +Of War's iron law from him, the best of men, +Meant only for the worst. + +GENERAL. + + Captain, no more. + +BLAND. + +If Andre lives, the prisoner finds a friend; +Else helpless and forlorn-- +All men will bless the act, and bless thee for it. + +GENERAL. + +Think'st thou thy country would not curse the man, +Who, by a clemency ill-tim'd, ill-judg'd, +Encourag'd treason? That _pride_ encourag'd, +Which, by denying us the rights of nations, +Hath caus'd those ills which thou hast now portray'd? +Our prisoners, brave and generous peasantry, +As rebels have been treated, not as men. +'T is mine, brave yeomen, to assert your rights; +'T is mine to teach the foe, that, though array'd +In rude simplicity, ye, yet, are men, +And rank among the foremost. Oft their scouts, +The very refuse of the English arms, +Unquestion'd, have our countrymen consign'd +To death, when captur'd, mocking their agonies. + +BLAND. + +Curse them! [_Checking himself._] Yet let not censure fall on Andre. +Oh, there are Englishmen as brave, as good, +As ever land on earth might call its own; +And gallant Andre is among the best! + +GENERAL. + +Since they have hurl'd war on us, we must shew +That by the laws of war we will abide; +And have the power to bring their acts for trial, +To that tribunal, eminent 'mongst men, +Erected by the policy of nations, +To stem the flood of ills, which else fell war +Would pour, uncheck'd, upon the sickening world, +Sweeping away all trace of civil life. + +BLAND. + +To pardon him would not encourage ill. +His case is singular: his station high; +His qualities admired; his virtues lov'd. + +GENERAL. + +No more, my good young friend: it is in vain. +The men entrusted with thy country's rights +Have weigh'd, attentive, every circumstance. +An individual's virtue is, by them, +As highly prized as it can be by thee. +I know the virtues of this man, and love them. +But the destiny of millions, millions +Yet unborn, depends upon the rigour +Of this moment. The haughty Briton laughs +To scorn our armies and our councils. Mercy, +Humanity, call loudly, that we make +Our now despised power be felt, vindictive. +Millions demand the death of this young man. +My injur'd country, he his forfeit life +Must yield, to shield thy lacerated breast +From torture. [_To BLAND._] Thy merits are not overlook'd. +Promotion shall immediately attend thee. + +BLAND [_with contemptuous irony_]. + +Pardon me, sir, I never shall deserve it. +[_With increasing heat._] The country that forgets to reverence virtue; +That makes no difference 'twixt the sordid wretch, +Who, for reward, risks treason's penalty, +And him unfortunate, whose duteous service +Is, by mere accident, so chang'd in form, +As to assume guilt's semblance, I serve not: +Scorn to serve. I have a soldier's honour, +But 't is in union with a freeman's judgment, +And when I act, both prompt. Thus from my helm +I tear, what once I proudly thought, the badge +Of virtuous fellowship. [_Tears the cockade from his helmet._] + My sword I keep. [_Puts on his helmet._] +Would, Andre, thou hadst never put thine off! +Then hadst thou through opposers' hearts made way +To liberty, or bravely pierc'd thine own! [_Exit._ + +GENERAL. + +Rash, headstrong, maddening boy! +Had not this action past without a witness, +Duty would ask that thou shouldst rue thy folly-- +But, for the motive, be the deed forgotten. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE, _a Village._ + +_At a distance some tents. In front muskets, drums, and other + indications of soldiers' quarters._ + +_Enter MRS. BLAND and CHILDREN, attended by MELVILLE._ + +MELVILLE. + +The General's doors to you are ever open. +But why, my worthy friend, this agitation? +Our Colonel, your husband---- + +MRS. BLAND [_in tears, gives him the letter_]. + +Read, Melville. + +1st CHILD. + +Do not cry, Mama, for I'm sure if Papa said he would come home to-day he +will come yet: for he always does what he says he will. + +MRS. BLAND. + +He cannot come, dear love; they will not let him. + +2nd CHILD. + +Why, then, they told him lies. Oh, fie upon them! + +MELVILLE [_returning the letter_]. + +Fear nothing, Madam, 't is an empty threat: +A trick of policy. They dare not do it. + +MRS. BLAND. + +Alas! alas! what dares not power to do? +What art of reasoning, or what magic words, +Can still the storm of fears these lines have rais'd? +The wife's, the mother's fears? Ye innocents, +Unconscious on the brink of what a perilous +Precipice ye stand, unknowing that to-day +Ye are cast down the gulf, poor babes, ye weep +From sympathy. Children of sorrow, nurst, +Nurtur'd, midst camps and arms; unknowing man, +But as man's fell destroyer; must ye now, +To crown your piteous fate, be fatherless? +O, lead me, lead me to him! Let me kneel, +Let these, my children, kneel, till Andre, pardon'd, +Ensures to me a husband, them a father. + +MELVILLE. + +Madam, duty forbids further attendance. +I am on guard to-day. But see your son; +To him I leave your guidance. Good wishes +Prosper you! [_Exit MELVILLE._ + +_Enter BLAND._ + +MRS. BLAND. + + My Arthur, O my Arthur! + +BLAND. + +My mother! [_Embracing her._ + +MRS. BLAND. + + My son, I have been wishing +For you---- [_Bursts into tears, unable to proceed._ + +BLAND. + +But whence this grief, these tears, my mother? +Why are these little cheeks bedew'd with sorrow? + [_He kisses the children, who exclaim_, Brother, brother! +Have I done ought to cause a mother's sadness? + +MRS. BLAND. + +No, my brave boy! I oft have fear'd, but never +Sorrow'd for thee. + +BLAND. + +High praise!--Then bless me, Madam; +For I have pass'd through many a bustling scene +Since I have seen a father or a mother. + +MRS. BLAND. + +Bless thee, my boy! O bless him, bless him, Heaven! +Render him worthy to support these babes! +So soon, perhaps, all fatherless--dependent.-- + +BLAND. + +What mean'st thou, madam? Why these tears? + +MRS. BLAND. + + Thy father---- + +BLAND. + +A prisoner of war--I long have known it-- +But made so without blemish to his honour, +And soon exchang'd, returns unto his friends, +To guard these little ones, and point and lead, +To virtue and to glory. + +MRS. BLAND. + + Never, never! +His life, a sacrifice to Andre's _manes_,[7] +Must soon be offer'd. Even now, endungeon'd, +Like a vile felon, on the earth he lies, +His death expecting. Andre's execution +Gives signal for the murder of thy father-- +Andre now dies!-- + +BLAND [_despairingly_]. + + My father and my friend!! + +MRS. BLAND. + +There is but one on earth can save my husband-- +But one can pardon Andre. + +BLAND. + + Haste, my mother! +Thou wilt prevail. Take with thee in each hand +An unoffending child of him thou weep'st. +Save--save them both! This way--haste--lean on me. + [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE, _the GENERAL'S Quarters._ + +_Enter the GENERAL and M'DONALD._ + +GENERAL. + +_Here_ have I intimation from the foe, +That still they deem the spy we have condemn'd, +Merely a captive; by the laws of arms +From death protected; and retaliation, +As they term it, threaten, if we our purpose hold. +Bland is the victim they have singled out, +Hoping his threaten'd death will Andre save. + +M'DONALD. + +If I were Bland I boldly might advise +My General how to act. Free, and in safety, +I will now suppose my counsel needless. + +_Enter an AMERICAN OFFICER._ + +OFFICER. + +Another flag hath from the foe arriv'd, +And craves admittance. + +GENERAL. + + Conduct it hither. [_Exit OFFICER._ +Let us, unwearied hear, unbias'd judge, +Whate'er against our martial court's decision, +Our enemies can bring. + +_Enter BRITISH OFFICER, conducted by the AMERICAN OFFICER._ + +GENERAL. + + You are welcome, sir. +What further says Sir Henry? + +BRITISH OFFICER. + + This from him. +He calls on you to think what weighty woes +You now are busy bringing on your country. +He bids me say, that, if your sentence reach +The prisoner's life (prisoner of arms he deems him, +And no spy), on him alone it falls not. +He bids me loud proclaim it, and declare, +If this brave officer, by cruel mockery +Of war's stern law, and justice's feign'd pretence, +Be murder'd; the sequel of our strife, bloody, +Unsparing and remorseless, _you_ will make. +Think of the many captives in our power. +Already one is mark'd; for Andre mark'd;-- +And when his death, unparallel'd in war, +The signal gives, then Colonel Bland must die. + +GENERAL. + +'T is well, sir; bear this message in return. +Sir Henry Clinton knows the laws of arms: +He is a soldier, and, I think, a brave one. +The prisoners he retains he must account for. +Perhaps the reckoning's near. I, likewise, am +A soldier; entrusted by my country. +What I shall judge most for that country's good, +That shall I do. When doubtful, I consult +My country's friends; never her enemies. +In Andre's case there are no doubts: 't is clear: +Sir Henry Clinton knows it. + +BRITISH OFFICER. + + Weigh consequences. + +GENERAL. + +In strict regard to consequence I act; +And much should doubt to call that action right, +However specious, whose apparent end +Was misery to man. That brave officer +Whose death you threaten, for himself drew not +His sword--his country's wrongs arous'd his mind; +Her good alone his aim; and if his fall +Can further fire that country to resistance, +He will, with smiles, yield up his glorious life, +And count his death a gain; and tho' Columbians +Will lament his fall, they will lament in blood. + [_GENERAL walks up the stage._ + +M'DONALD. + +Hear this! hear this, mankind! + +BRITISH OFFICER. + + Thus am I answered? + +_Enter a SERGEANT with a letter._ + +SERGEANT. + +Express from Colonel Bland. [_Delivers it and exit._ + +GENERAL. + + With your permission. [_Opens it._ + +BRITISH OFFICER. + +Your pleasure, sir. It may my mission further. + +M'DONALD. + +O, Bland! my countryman, surely I know thee! + +GENERAL. + +'T is short: I will put form aside, and read it. + +[_Reads._] "Excuse me, my Commander, for having a moment doubted your +virtue: but you love me. If you waver, let this confirm you. My wife and +children, to you and my country. Do _your_ duty." Report this to your +General. + +BRITISH OFFICER. + + I shall, sir. + [_Bows, and exit with AMERICAN OFFICER._ + +GENERAL. + +O, Bland! my countryman! [_Exit with emotion._ + +M'DONALD. + + Triumph of virtue! +Like him and thee, still be Americans. +Then, tho' all-powerful Europe league against us, +And pour in arms her legions on our shores; +Who is so dull would doubt their shameful flight? +Who doubt our safety, and our glorious triumph? + + +SCENE, _the Prison._ + +_Enter BLAND._ + +BLAND. + +Lingering, I come to crush the bud of hope +My breath has, flattering, to existence warm'd. +Hard is the task to friendship! hard to say, +To the lov'd object there remains no hope, +No consolation for thee; thou _must_ die; +The worst of deaths; no circumstance abated. + +_Enter ANDRE in his uniform, and dress'd._ + +ANDRE. + +Is there that state on earth which friendship cannot cheer? + +BLAND. + +Little _I_ bring to cheer thee, Andre. + +ANDRE. + +I understand. 'T is well. 'T will soon be past. +Yet, 't was not much I ask'd. A soldier's death. +A trifling change of form. + +BLAND. + + Of that I spoke not. +By vehemence of passion hurried on, +I pleaded for thy precious life alone; +The which denied, my indignation barr'd +All further parley. But strong solicitation +Now is urg'd to gain the wish'd-for favour. + +ANDRE. + +What is 't o'clock? + +BLAND. + + 'T is past the stroke of nine. + +ANDRE. + +Why, then, 't is almost o'er. But to be hung-- +Is there no way to escape that infamy? +What then _is_ infamy?--no matter--no matter. + +BLAND. + +Our General hath received another flag. + +ANDRE. + +Soliciting for me? + +BLAND. + + On thy behalf. + +ANDRE. + +I have been ever favour'd. + +BLAND. + + Threat'nings, now; +No more solicitations. Harsh, indeed, +The import of the message: harsh, indeed. + +ANDRE. + +I am sorry for it. Would that I were dead, +And all was well with those I leave behind. + +BLAND. + +Such a threat! Is it not enough, just heaven, +That I must lose this man? Yet there was left +One for my soul to rest on. But, to know +That the same blow deprives them both of life-- + +ANDRE. + +What mean'st thou, Bland? Surely my General +Threats not retaliation. In vengeance, +Dooms not some better man to die for me? + +BLAND. + +The best of men. + +ANDRE. + + Thou hast a father, captive-- +I dare not ask-- + +BLAND. + + That father dies for thee. + +ANDRE. + +Gracious heaven! how woes are heap'd upon me! +What! cannot one, so trifling in life's scene, +Fall, without drawing such a ponderous ruin? +Leave me, my friend, awhile--I yet have life-- +A little space of life--let me exert it +To prevent injustice:--From death to save +Thy father, thee to save from utter desolation. + +BLAND. + +What mean'st thou, Andre? + +ANDRE. + + Seek thou the messenger +Who brought this threat. I will my last entreaty +Send by him. My General, sure, will grant it. + +BLAND. + +To the last thyself! [_Exit._ + +ANDRE. + + If, at this moment, +When the pangs of death already touch me, +Firmly my mind against injustice strives, +And the last impulse to my vital powers +Is given by anxious wishes to redeem +My fellowmen from pain; surely my end, +Howe'er accomplished, is not infamous. [_Exit._ + +_End of the Third Act._ + + + + +ACT IV. + + +SCENE, _the Encampment._ + +_Enter M'DONALD and BLAND._ + +BLAND. + +It doth in truth appear, that as a--spy-- +Detested word!--brave Andre must be view'd. +His sentence he confesses strictly just. +Yet sure a deed of mercy, from _thy_ hand, +Could never lead to ill. By such an act, +The stern and blood-stain'd brow of War +Would be disarm'd of half its gorgon horrors; +More humanized customs be induced; +And all the race of civilized man +Be blest in the example. Be it thy suit: +'T will well become thy character and station. + +M'DONALD. + +Trust me, young friend, I am alone the judge +Of what becomes my character and station: +And having judg'd that this young Briton's death, +Even 'though attended by thy father's murder, +Is necessary, in these times accurs'd, +When every thought of man is ting'd with blood, +I will not stir my finger to redeem them. +Nay, much I wonder, Bland, having so oft +The reasons for this necessary rigour +Enforced upon thee, thou wilt still persist +In vain solicitations. Imitate +Thy father! + +BLAND. + + My father knew not Andre. +I know his value; owe to him my life; +And, gratitude, that first, that best of virtues,-- +Without the which man sinks beneath the brute,-- +Binds me in ties indissoluble to him. + +M'DONALD. + +That man-created virtue blinds thy reason. +Man owes to man all love; when exercised, +He does no more than duty. Gratitude, +That selfish rule of action, which commands +That we our preference make of men, +Not for their worth, but that they did _us_ service, +Misleading reason, casting in the way +Of justice stumbling-blocks, cannot be virtue. + +BLAND. + +Detested sophistry!--'T was Andre sav'd me! + +M'DONALD. + +He sav'd thy life, and thou art grateful for it. +How self intrudes, delusive, on man's thoughts! +He sav'd thy life, yet strove to damn thy country; +Doom'd millions to the haughty Briton's yoke; +The best, and foremost in the cause of virtue, +To death, by sword, by prison, or the halter: +His sacrifice now stands the only bar +Between the wanton cruelties of war, +And our much-suffering soldiers: yet, when weigh'd +With gratitude, for that he sav'd _thy_ life, +These things prove gossamer, and balance air:-- +Perversion monstrous of man's moral sense! + +BLAND. + +Rather perversion monstrous of all good, +Is thy accurs'd, detestable opinion. +Cold-blooded reasoners, such as thee, would blast +All warm affection; asunder sever +Every social tie of humanized man. +Curst be thy sophisms! cunningly contriv'd +The callous coldness of thy heart to cover, +And screen thee from the brave man's detestation. + +M'DONALD. + +Boy, boy! + +BLAND. + + Thou knowest that Andre's not a spy. + +M'DONALD. + +I know him one. Thou hast acknowledg'd it. + +BLAND. + +Thou liest! + +M'DONALD. + + Shame on thy ruffian tongue! how passion +Mars thee! I pity thee! Thou canst not harm, +By words intemperate, a virtuous man. +I pity thee! for passion sometimes sways +My older frame, through former uncheck'd habit: +But when I see the havoc which it makes +In others, I can shun the snare accurst, +And nothing feel but pity. + +BLAND [_indignantly_]. + +Pity me! [_Approaches him, and speaks in an under voice._ +Thou canst be cool, yet, trust me, _passion_ sways thee. +_Fear_ does not _warm_ the blood, yet 't is a _passion_. +Hast thou no feeling? I have call'd thee liar! + +M'DONALD. + +If thou could'st make me one, I then might grieve. + +BLAND. + +Thy coolness goes to freezing: thou'rt a coward. + +M'DONALD. + +Thou knowest thou tell'st a falsehood. + +BLAND. + + Thou shalt know +None with impunity speaks thus of me. +That to rouse thy courage. [_Touches him gently, with his open hand, + in crossing him. M'DONALD looks at him unmoved._] + Dost thou not yet feel? + +M'DONALD. + +For _thee_ I feel. And tho' another's acts +Cast no dishonour on the worthy man, +I still feel for thy father. Yet, remember, +I may not, haply, ever be thus guarded; +I may not always the distinction make. +However just, between the blow intended +To provoke, and one that's meant to injure. + +BLAND. + +Hast thou no sense of honour? + +M'DONALD. + + Truly, yes: +For I am honour's votary. Honour, with me, +Is worth: 't is truth; 't is virtue; 't is a thing, +So high pre-eminent, that a boy's breath, +Or brute's, or madman's blow, can never reach it. +My honour is so much, so truly mine, +That none hath power to wound it, save myself. + +BLAND. + +I will proclaim thee through the camp a coward. + +M'DONALD. + +Think better of it! Proclaim not thine own shame. + +BLAND. + +I'll brand thee--Damnation! [_Exit._ + +M'DONALD. + + O, passion, passion! +A man who values fame, far more than life; +A brave young man; in many things a good; +Utters vile falsehood; adds injury to insult; +Striving with blood to seal such foul injustice; +And all from impulse of unbridled feeling.-- [_Pause._ +Here comes the mother of this headstrong boy, +Severely rack'd--What shall allay her torture? +For common consolation, _here_, is insult. + +_Enter MRS. BLAND and CHILDREN._ + +MRS. BLAND. + +O my good friend! + +M'DONALD [_taking her hand_]. + + I know thy cause of sorrow. +Art thou now from our Commander? + +MRS. BLAND [_drying her tears, and assuming dignity_]. + + I am. +But vain is my entreaty. All unmov'd +He hears my words, he sees my desperate sorrow. +Fain would I blame his conduct--but I cannot. +Strictly examin'd, with intent to mark +The error which so fatal proves to _me_, +My scrutiny but ends in admiration. +Thus when the prophet from the Hills of Moab, +Look'd down upon the chosen race of heaven, +With fell intent to curse; ere yet he spake, +Truth all resistless, emanation bright +From great Adonai, fill'd his froward mind, +And chang'd the curses of his heart to blessings. + +M'DONALD. + +Thou payest high praise to virtue. Whither now?-- + +MRS. BLAND. + +I still must hover round this spot until +My doom is known. + +M'DONALD. + + Then to my quarters, lady, +There shall my mate give comfort and refreshment: +One of your sex can best your sorrows soothe. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE, _the Prison._ + +_Enter BLAND._ + +BLAND. + +Where'er I look cold desolation meets me. +My father--Andre--and self-condemnation! +Why seek I Andre now? Am _I_ a man, +To soothe the sorrows of a suffering friend? +The weather-cock of passion! fool inebriate! +Who could with ruffian hand strive to provoke +Hoar wisdom to intemperance! who could lie! +Aye, swagger, lie, and brag!--Liar! Damnation!! +O, let me steal away and hide my head, +Nor view a man, condemn'd to harshest death, +Whose words and actions, when by mine compar'd, +Shew white as innocence, and bright as truth. +I now would shun him; but that his shorten'd +Thread of life, gives me no line to play with. +He comes, with smiles, and all the air of triumph; +While I am sinking with remorse and shame: +Yet _he_ is doom'd to death, and _I_ am free! + +_Enter ANDRE._ + +ANDRE. + +Welcome, my Bland! Cheerly, a welcome hither! +I feel assurance that my last request +Will not be slighted. Safely thy father +Shall return to thee. [_Holding out a paper._] See what employment +For a dying man. Take thou these verses; +And, after my decease, send them to her +Whose name is woven in them; whose image +Hath controul'd my destiny. Such tokens +Are rather out of date. Fashions +There are in love as in all else; they change +As variously. A gallant Knight, erewhile, +Of Coeur de Lion's day, would, dying, send +His heart home to its mistress; degenerate +Soldier I, send but some blotted paper. + +BLAND. + +If 't would not damp thy present cheerfulness, +I would require the meaning of thy words. +I ne'er till now did hear of Andre's mistress. + +ANDRE. + +Mine is a story of that common kind, +So often told, with scanty variation, +That the pall'd ear loaths the repeated tale. +Each young romancer chooses for his theme +The woes of youthful hearts, by the cold hand +Of frosty Age, arm'd with parental power, +Asunder torn. But I long since have ceas'd +To mourn; well satisfied that she I love, +Happy in holy union with another, +Shares not my wayward fortunes. Nor would I +Now these tokens send, remembrance to awaken, +But that I know her happy: and the happy +Can think on misery and share it not. + +BLAND [_agitated_]. + +Some one approaches. + +ANDRE. + + Why, 't is near the time. +But tell me, Bland, say--is the manner chang'd? + +BLAND. + +I hope it--but I yet have no assurance. + +ANDRE. + +Well, well! + +HONORA [_without_]. + + I must see him. + +ANDRE. + + Whose voice was that? +My senses!--Do I dream--? [_Leans on BLAND._ + +_Enter HONORA._ + +HONORA. + + Where is he? + +ANDRE. + + 'T is she!! [_Starts from BLAND + and advances towards HONORA; she rushes into his arms._] + +HONORA. + +It is enough! He lives, and _I_ shall save him. + [_She faints in the arms of ANDRE._ + +ANDRE. + +She sinks--assist me, Bland! O, save her, save her! + [_Places her in a chair, and looks tenderly on her._ +Yet, why should she awake from that sweet sleep! +Why should she open her eyes--[_Wildly._]--to see me hung! +What does she here? Stand off--[_Tenderly._]--and let her die. +How pale she looks! how worn that tender frame!-- +She has known sorrow! Who could injure her? + +BLAND. + +She revives--Andre--soft, bend her forward. + [_ANDRE kneels and supports her._ + +HONORA. + +Andre--! + +ANDRE. + + Lov'd excellence! + +HONORA. + + Yes, it is Andre! [_Rises and looks at him._ +No more deceived by visionary forms, +By him supported-- [_Leans on him._ + +ANDRE. + + Why is this? +Thou dost look pale, Honora--sick and wan-- +Languid thy fainting limbs-- + +HONORA. + + All will be well. +But was it kind to leave me as thou didst--? +So rashly to desert thy vow-link'd wife?-- + +ANDRE. + +When made another's both by vows and laws-- + +HONORA [_quitting his support_]. + +What meanest thou? + +ANDRE. + + Didst thou not marry him? + +HONORA. + +Marry! + +ANDRE. + + Didst thou not give thy hand away +From me? + +HONORA. + + O, never, never! + +ANDRE. + + Not married? + +HONORA. + +To none but thee, and but in will to thee. + +ANDRE. + +O blind, blind wretch!--Thy father told me---- + +HONORA. + +Thou wast deceived. They hurried me away, +Spreading false rumours to remove thy love-- +[_Tenderly._] Thou didst too soon believe them. + +ANDRE. + + Thy father-- +How could I but believe Honora's father? +And he did tell me so. I reverenced age, +Yet knew, age was not virtue. I believed +His snowy locks, and yet they did deceive me! +I have destroy'd myself and thee!--Alas! +Ill-fated maid! why didst thou not forget me? +Hast thou rude seas and hostile shores explor'd +For this? To see my death? Witness my shame? + +HONORA. + +I come to bless thee, Andre; and shall do it. +I bear such offers from thy kind Commander, +As must prevail to save thee. Thus the daughter +May repair the ills her cruel sire inflicted. +My father, dying, gave me cause to think +That arts were us'd to drive thee from thy home; +But what those arts I knew not. An heiress left, +Of years mature, with power and liberty, +I straight resolv'd to seek thee o'er the seas. +A long-known friend who came to join her lord, +Yielded protection and lov'd fellowship.-- +Indeed, when I did hear of thy estate +It almost kill'd me:--I was weak before-- + +ANDRE. + +'T is I have murder'd thee!-- + +HONORA. + + All shall be well. +Thy General heard of me, and instant form'd +The plan of this my visit. I am strong, +Compar'd with what I was. Hope strengthens me; +Nay, even solicitude supports me now; +And when thou shalt be safe, _thou_ wilt support me. + +ANDRE. + +Support thee!--O heaven! What!--And must I die? +Die!--and leave her _thus_--suffering--unprotected!-- + +_Enter MELVILLE and GUARD._ + +MELVILLE. + +I am sorry that my duty should require +Service, at which my heart revolts; but, sir, +Our soldiers wait in arms. All is prepar'd---- + +HONORA. + +To death!--Impossible! Has my delay, +Then, murder'd him?--A momentary respite-- + +MELVILLE. + +Lady, I have no power. + +BLAND. + + Melville, my friend, +This lady bears dispatches of high import, +Touching this business:--should they arrive too late---- + +HONORA. + +For pity's sake, and heaven's, conduct me to him; +And wait the issue of our conference. +Oh, 't would be murder of the blackest dye, +Sin execrable, not to break thy orders-- +Inhuman, thou art not. + +MELVILLE. + + Lady, thou say'st true; +For rather would I lose my rank in arms, +And stand cashier'd for lack of discipline, +Than, gain 'mongst military men all praise, +Wanting the touch of sweet humanity. + +HONORA. + +Thou grantest my request? + +MELVILLE. + + Lady, I do. +Retire! [_SOLDIERS go out._ + +BLAND. + +I know not what excuse, to martial men, +Thou canst advance for this; but to thy heart +Thou wilt need none, good Melville. + +ANDRE. + + O, Honora! + +HONORA. + +Cheer up, I feel assur'd. Hope wings my flight, +To bring thee tidings of much joy to come. + [_Exit HONORA, with BLAND and MELVILLE._ + +ANDRE. + +Eternal blessings on thee, matchless woman!-- +If death now comes, he finds the veriest coward +That e'er he dealt withal. I cannot think +Of dying. Void of fortitude, each thought +Clings to the world--the world that holds Honora! + [_Exit._ + +_End of the Fourth Act._ + + + + +ACT V. + + +SCENE, _the Encampment._ + +_Enter BLAND._ + +BLAND. + +Suspense--uncertainty--man's bane and solace! +How racking now to me! My mother comes. +Forgive me, O my father! if in this war, +This wasting conflict of my wildering passions, +Memory of thee holds here a second place! +M'Donald comes with her. I would not meet him: +Yet I will do it. Summon up some courage-- +Confess my fault, and gain, if not _his_ love, +At least the approbation of _my_ judgment. + +_Enter MRS. BLAND and CHILDREN with M'DONALD._ + +BLAND. + +Say, madam, is there no change of counsel, +Or new determination? + +MRS. BLAND. + + _Nought new_, my son. +The tale of misery is told unheard. +The widow's and the orphans' sighs +Fly up, unnoted by the eye of man, +And mingle, undistinguish'd, with the winds. +My friend [_To M'DONALD._], attend thy duties. I must away. + +2nd CHILD. + +You need not cry, Mama, the General will do it, I am sure; for I saw him +cry. He turn'd away his head from you, but I saw it. + +MRS. BLAND. + +Poor thing! come let us home and weep. Alas! +I can no more, for war hath made men rocks. + [_Exeunt MRS. BLAND and CHILDREN._ + +BLAND. + +Colonel, I used thee ill this morning. + +M'DONALD. + + No! +Thyself thou used'st most vilely, I remember. + +BLAND. + +Myself sustained the injury, most true; +But the intent of what I said and did +Was ill to thee alone: I'm sorry for it. +Seest thou these blushes? They proceed from warmth +As honest as the heart of man e'er felt;-- +But not with shame unmingled, while I force +This tongue, debased, to own, it slander'd thee, +And utter'd--I could curse it--utter'd falsehood. +Howe'er misled by passion, still my mind +Retains that sense of honest rectitude +Which makes the memory of an evil deed +A troublesome companion. I was wrong. + +M'DONALD. + +Why, now this glads me; for thou _now_ art right. +Oh, may thy tongue, henceforward, utter nought +But Truth's sweet precepts, in fair Virtue's cause! +Give me thy hand. [_Takes his hand._] Ne'er may it grasp a sword +But in defense of justice. + +BLAND. + + Yet, erewhile, +A few short hours scarce past, when this vile hand +Attempted on _thee_ insult; and was raised +Against thy honour; ready to be raised +Against thy life. If this my deep remorse-- + +M'DONALD. + +No more, no more. 'T is past. Remember it +But as thou would'st the action of another, +By thy enlighten'd judgment much condemn'd; +And serving as a beacon in the storms +Thy passions yet may raise. Remorse is vice: +Guard thee against its influence debasing. +Say to thyself, "I am not what I was; +I am not _now_ the instrument of vice; +I'm changed; I am a man; Virtue's firm friend; +Sever'd for ever from my former self; +No link, but in remembrance salutary." + +BLAND. + +[How[8] all men tower above me! + +M'DONALD. + + Nay, not so. +Above what once thou wast, some few do rise; +None above what thou art. + +BLAND. + +It shall be so. + +M'DONALD. + + It is so. + +BLAND. + + Then to prove it. +For I must yet a trial undergo, +That will require a consciousness of virtue. [_Exit._ + +M'DONALD. + +Oh, what a temper doth in man reside! +How capable of yet unthought perfection!] [_Exit._ + + +SCENE, _the GENERAL'S Quarters._ + +_Enter GENERAL and SEWARD._ + +GENERAL. + +Ask her, my friend, to send by thee her pacquets. + [_Exit SEWARD._ +Oh, what keen struggles must I undergo! +Unbless'd estate! to have the power to pardon; +The court's stern sentence to remit;--give life;-- +Feel the strong wish to use such blessed power; +Yet know that circumstances strong as fate +Forbid to obey the impulse. Oh, I feel +That man should never shed the blood of man! + +_Enter SEWARD._ + +SEWARD. + +Nought can the lovely suitor satisfy, +But conference with thee, and much I fear +Refusal would cause madness. + +GENERAL. + + Yet to admit, +To hear, be tortur'd, and refuse at last-- + +SEWARD. + +Sure never man such spectacle of sorrow +Saw before. Motionless the rough-hewn soldiers +Silent view her, or walk aside and weep. + +GENERAL [_after a pause_]. + +Admit her. [_SEWARD goes out._] Oh, for the art, the precious art, +To reconcile the sufferer to his sorrows! + +[_HONORA rushes in, and throws herself wildly on her knees before him; + he endeavours to raise her._ + +HONORA. + +Nay, nay, here is my place, or here, or lower, +Unless thou grant'st his life. All forms away! +Thus will I clasp thy knees, thus cling to thee.-- +I am his wife--'tis I have ruin'd him-- +Oh, save him! Give him to me! Let us cross +The mighty seas, far, far--ne'er to offend again.-- + [_The GENERAL turns away, and hides his eyes with his hand._ + +_Enter SEWARD and an OFFICER._ + +GENERAL. + +Seward, support her--my heart is torn in twain. + + [_HONORA as if exhausted, suffers herself to be raised, and leans on + SEWARD._ + +OFFICER. + +This moment, sir, a messenger arrived +With well confirm'd and mournful information, +That gallant Hastings, by the lawless scouts +Of Britain taken, after cruel mockery +With shew of trial and condemnation, +On the next tree was hung. + +HONORA [_wildly_]. + + Oh, it is false! + +GENERAL. + +Why, why, my country, did I hesitate? [_Exit._ + + [_HONORA sinks, faints, and is borne off by SEWARD and OFFICER._ + + +SCENE, _the Prison._ + +_ANDRE meeting BLAND._ + +ANDRE. + +How speeds Honora? [_Pause._] Art thou silent, Bland? +Why, then I know my task. The mind of man, +If not by vice debas'd, debilitated, +Or by disease of body quite unton'd, +Hath o'er its thoughts a power--energy divine! +Of fortitude the source and every virtue-- +A godlike power, which e'en o'er circumstance +Its sov'reignty exerts. Now, from my thoughts, +Honora! Yet she is left alone--expos'd-- + +BLAND. + +O, Andre, spurn me, strike me to the earth; +For what a wretch am I, in Andre's mind, +That he can think he leaves his love alone, +And I retaining life! + +ANDRE. + + Forgive me, Bland, +My thoughts glanc'd not on thee. Imagination +Pictur'd only, then, her orphan state, helpless; +Her weak and grief-exhausted frame. Alas! +This blow will kill her! + +BLAND [_kneeling_]. + + Here do I myself +Devote, my fortune consecrate, to thee, +To thy remembrance, and Honora's service!-- + +ANDRE. + +Enough! Let me not see her more--nor think of her-- +Farewell! farewell, sweet image! Now for death. + +BLAND. + +Yet that you shouldst the felon's fate fulfill-- +Damnation! my blood boils. Indignation +Makes the current of my life course wildly +Through its round, and maddens each emotion. + +ANDRE. + +Come, come, it matters not. + +BLAND. + + I do remember, +When a boy, at school, in our allotted tasks, +We, by our puny acts, strove to portray +The giant thoughts of Otway. I was Pierre.-- +O, thou art Pierre's reality! a soldier, +On whose manly brow sits fortitude enamour'd! +A Mars, abhorring vice, yet doom'd to die +A death of infamy; thy corse expos'd +To vulgar gaze--halter'd--distorted--Oh!! + [_Pauses, and then adds in a low, hollow voice._ +Pierre had a friend to save him from such shame-- +And so hast thou. + +ANDRE. + + No more, as thou dost love me. + +BLAND. + +I have a sword, and arm, that never fail'd me. + +ANDRE. + +Bland, such an act would justly thee involve, +And leave that helpless one thou sworest to guard, +Expos'd to every ill. Oh! think not of it. + +BLAND. + +If thou wilt not my aid--take it thyself. + [_Draws and offers his sword._ + +ANDRE. + +No, men will say that cowardice did urge me. +In my mind's weakness, I did wish to shun +That mode of death which error represented +Infamous: Now let me rise superior; +And with a fortitude too true to start +From mere appearances, shew your country, +That she, in me, destroys a man who might +Have liv'd to virtue. + +BLAND [_sheathing his sword_]. + + I will not think more of it; +I was again the sport of erring passion. + +ANDRE. + +Go thou and guide Honora from this spot. + +HONORA [_entering_]. + +Who shall oppose his wife? I will have way! +They, cruel, would have kept me from thee, Andre. +Say, am I not thy wife? _Wilt_ thou deny me? +Indeed I am not dress'd in bridal trim. +But I have travel'd far:--rough was the road-- +Rugged and rough--that must excuse my dress. +[_Seeing ANDRE'S distress._] Thou art not glad to see me. + +ANDRE. + + Break my heart! + +HONORA. + +Indeed, I feel not much in spirits. I wept but now. + +_Enter MELVILLE and GUARD._ + +BLAND [_to MELVILLE_]. + +Say nothing. + +ANDRE. + + I am ready. + +HONORA [_seeing the GUARD_]. + + Are _they_ here? +_Here_ again!--The _same_--but they shall not harm me-- +I am with _thee_, my Andre--I am safe-- +And _thou_ art safe with me. Is it not so? + [_Clinging to him._ + +_Enter MRS. BLAND._ + +MRS. BLAND. + +Where is this lovely victim? + +BLAND. + + Thanks, my mother. + +MRS. BLAND. + +M'Donald sent me hither. My woes are past. +Thy father, by the foe releas'd, already +Is in safety. This be forgotten now; +And every thought be turn'd to this sad scene. +Come, lady, home with me. + +HONORA. + + Go home with thee? +Art thou my Andre's mother? We will home +And rest, for thou art weary--very weary. + [_Leans on MRS. BLAND._ + +[_ANDRE retires to the GUARD, and goes off with them, looking on her to + the last, and with an action of extreme tenderness takes leave of + her. MELVILLE and BLAND accompany him._ + +HONORA. + +Now we will go. Come, love! Where is he? +All gone!--I do remember--I awake-- +They have him. Murder! Help! Oh, save him! save him! + + [_HONORA attempts to follow, but falls. MRS. BLAND kneels to assist + her. Scene closes._ + + +SCENE, _the Encampment._ + +_Procession to the execution of ANDRE. First enter Pioneers--Detachment + of Infantry--Military Band of Music--Infantry. The Music having + passed off, enter ANDRE between MELVILLE and AMERICAN OFFICER; they + sorrowful, he cheerfully conversing as he passes over the stage._ + +ANDRE. + +It may in me be merely prejudice, +The effect of young-opinion deep engraved +Upon the tender mind by care parental; +But I must think your country has mistook +Her interests. Believe me, but for this I should +Not willingly have drawn a sword against her. + [_They bow their heads in silence._ +Opinion must, nay ought, to sway our actions; +Therefore-- + +_Having crossed the stage, he goes out as still conversing with them. + Another detachment of Infantry, with muffled and craped drums, close + the procession: as soon as they are off--_ + +_Scene draws and discovers the distant view of the Encampment._ + +_Procession enters in same order as before, proceeds up the stage, and + goes off on the opposite side._ + +_Enter M'DONALD, leading BLAND, who looks wildly back._ + +BLAND. + +I dare not _thee_ resist. Yet why, O, why +Thus hurry me away--?-- + +M'DONALD. + + Would'st thou behold---- + +BLAND. + +Oh, name it not! + +M'DONALD. + + Or would'st thou, by thy looks +And gestures wild, o'erthrow that manly calmness +Which, or assum'd or felt, so well becomes thy friend? + +BLAND. + +What means that cannon's sound? + +M'DONALD [_after a pause_]. + + Signal of death +Appointed. Andre, thy friend, is now no more! + +BLAND. + +Farewell, farewell, brave spirit! O, let my countrymen, +Henceforward, when the cruelties of war +Arise in their remembrance; when their ready +Speech would pour forth torrents in their foe's dispraise, +Think on this act accurst, and lock complaint in silence. + [_BLAND throws himself on the earth._ + +M'DONALD. + +Such are the dictates of the heart, not head. +Oh, may the children of Columbia still +Be taught by every teacher of mankind, +Each circumstance of calculative gain, +Or wounded pride, which prompted our oppressors: +May every child be taught to lisp the tale: +And may, in times to come, no foreign force, +No European influence, tempt to misstate, +Or awe the tongue of eloquence to silence. +Still may our children's children deep abhor +The motives, doubly deep detest the actors; +Ever remembering, that the race who plan'd, +Who acquiesced, or did the deeds abhor'd, +Has pass'd from off the earth; and, in its stead, +Stand men who challenge love or detestation +But from their proper, individual deeds. +Never let memory of the sire's offence +Descend upon the son. + +_Curtain drops._ + +FOOTNOTES: + +[6] See p. 557. + +[7] Spirit of the dead; shade. + +[8] Insert the lines which were substituted after the first night for the +lines here put in brackets. They are given in the Preface, page 509. + + + + +TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES + +Variable hyphenation of god(-)like has been preserved as in the original. + +Inconsistent inconclusion of acute accent on ANDRE as in the original. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Andre, by William Dunlap + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANDRE *** + +***** This file should be named 29229.txt or 29229.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/2/2/29229/ + +Produced by David Starner, Brownfox and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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