To Songs: MY PLEA * SO YOUNG * VERDICT

SCENE 78 - Daytime - WHARTON family and military judges in the room of the trial.

(The family of Capt. HENRY WHARTON have placed so much reliance on his innocence, that they are unable to see the full danger of his situation. As the moment of trial approaches, the uneasiness of the youth himself increases; and after spending most of the night with his afflicted family, he wakens on the following morning, from a short and disturbed slumber, to a clearer sense of his situation, and a survey of the means that are to extricate him from it with life.)

(The rank of Andre, and the importance of the measures he was plotting, together with the powerful intercessions that had been made in his behalf, occasioned his execution to be stamped with greater notoriety than the ordinary events of the war. But spies were frequently arrested; and the instances that occurred of summary punishment for this crime were numerous.)

(These were facts well known to both DUNWOODIE and the prisoner; and to their experienced judgments the preparations for the trial are indeed alarming. Notwithstanding their apprehensions, they have succeeded so far in concealing them, that neither Miss PEYTON nor FRANCES are aware of their extent.)

(A strong guard is stationed in the out-building of the farm-house where the prisoner is quartered, and several sentinels watch the avenues that approach the dwelling. Another is constantly near the room of the British officer. A court is already detailed to examine into the circumstances; and upon their decision the fate of HENRY rests.)

(The moment at length arrives, and the different actors in the approaching investigation assemble. FRANCES experiences a feeling like suffocation, as, after taking her seat in the midst of her family, her eyes wander over the group who are thus collected.)

(The judges, three in number, sit by themselves, clad in the vestments of their profession, and maintain a gravity worthy of the occasion, and becoming to their rank. In the center is a man of advanced years, and whose whole exterior bares the stamp of early and long-tried military habits. This is the president of the court; and FRANCES, after taking a hasty and unsatisfactory view of his associates, turns to his benevolent countenance as to the harbinger of mercy to her brother.)

(There is a melting and subdued expression in the features of the veteran, that, contrasted with the rigid decency and composure of the others, cannot fail to attract her notice. His attire is strictly in conformity to the prescribed rules of the service to which he belongs; but while his hair is erect and military, his fingers trifle, with a kind of convulsive and unconscious motion, with a bit of crape that entwines the hilt of the sword on which his body partly reclines, and which, like himself, seems a relic of older times.)

(His associates are officers selected from eastern troops, who hold the fortresses of West Point and adjacent passes; they are men who have attained the meridian of life, and the eye seeks in vain the expression of any passion or emotion on which it might seize as an indication of human infirmity. In their demeanor, there is a mild but grave intellectual reserve. These men have long acted under the dominion of prudent reason, and whose feelings seem trained to a perfect submission to their judgments.)

(Before these arbiters of his fate HENRY WHARTON is ushered, under the custody of armed men. A profound and awful silence succeeds his entrance, and the blood of FRANCES chills a she notes the grave character of the whole proceedings. There is but little of pomp in the preparations, to impress her imagination; but the reserved, business-like air of the scene makes it seem, indeed, as if the destinies of life await the result.)

(Two of the judges sit in grave reserve, fixing their inquiring eyes on the object of their investigation; but the president continues gazing around the room with uneasy, convulsive motions of the muscles of the face, that indicated a restlessness, foreign to his years and duty.)

(It is Colonel SINGLETON, who, but the day before, learned the fate of his daughter, ISABELLA, but who stands forth in the discharge of a duty that his country requires at his hands. The silence and the expectation in every eye at length strike him, and making an effort to collect himself, he speaks in the tones of one used to authority.)

Col. SINGLETON: Bring forth the prisoner.

(The sentinels drop the points of their bayonets toward the judges, and HENRY WHARTON advances, with a firm step, into the center of the apartment. All is now anxiety and eager curiosity. FRANCES turns for a moment in grateful emotion, as the deep and perturbed breathing of DUNWOODIE reaches her ears; but her brother again concentrates all her interest in one feeling of intense care.)

(In the background are the members of the family who own the dwelling, and behind them, is a row of shining faces of ebony, glistening with wonder. Amongst these is the faded luster of CAESAR THOMPSON's countenance.)

Col. SINGLETON: You are said to be HENRY WHARTON, a captain in his Britannic majesty's 60th regiment of foot.

HENRY: I am.

Col. SINGLETON: I like your candor, sir; it partakes of the honorable feelings of a soldier, and cannot fail to impress your judges favorably.

FIRST JUDGE: It would be prudent to advise the prisoner that he is bound to answer no more than he seems necessary; although we are a court of martial law, yet, in this respect, we own the principles of all free governments.

(A nod of approbation by the silent member is bestowed on this remark, and the president proceeds with caution, referring to the minutes he holds in his hand.)

Col. SINGLETON: It is an accusation against you, that, being an officer of the enemy, you passed the pickets of the American army at the White Plains, in disguise, on the 29th of October last, whereby you are suspected of views hostile to the interests of America, and have subjected yourself to the punishment of a spy.

(The mild, but steady tones of the speaker, as he slowly repeats the substance of this charge, are full of authority. The accusation is so plain, the fact so limited, the proof so obvious, and the penalty so well established, that escape seems impossible. But HENRY replies, with earnest grace -

HENRY: That I passed your pickets in disguise is true; but

Col. SINGLETON: Peace! the usages of war are stern enough in themselves; you need not aid them to your own condemnation.

FIRST JUDGE: The president can retract that declaration, if he please. His confession, if taken, goes fully to prove the charge.

HENRY: I retract nothing that is true.

(The two nameless judges hear him in silent composure, yet there is no exultation mingled with their gravity. The president now appears, however, to take new interest in the scene.)

Col. SINGLETON: Your sentiment is noble, sir; I only regret that a youthful soldier should so far be misled by loyalty as to lend himself to the purposes of deceit.

HENRY: Deceit! I thought it prudent to guard against capture of my enemies.

Col. SINGLETON: A soldier, Captain WHARTON, should never meet his enemy but openly, and with arms in his hands. I have served two kings of England, as I now serve my native land; but never did I approach a foe, unless under the light of the sun, and with honest notice than an enemy was nigh.

FIRST JUDGE: You are at liberty to explain what your motives were in entering the ground held by our army in disguise.

HENRY: I am the son of this aged man before you. It was to visit him that I encountered the danger. Besides, the country below is seldom held by your troops, and its very name implied a right to either party to move at pleasure over its territory.

FIRST JUDGE: Its name, as a neutral ground, is unauthorized by law; it is an appellation that originates with the condition of the country. But wherever an army goes, it carries its right along, and first is, the ability to protect itself.

HENRY: I am no casuist, sir, but I feel that my father is entitled to my affection, and I would encounter greater risks to prove it to him in his old age.

Col. SINGLETON: A commendable spirit; come, gentlemen, this business brightens. I confess, at first, it was very bad; but no man can censure him for desiring to see his parents.

FIRST JUDGE: And have you proof that such only was your intention?

HENRY: Yes, here, here is proof - my father, my sister, Major DUNWOODIE, all know it.

FIRST JUDGE: Then, indeed, we may be able to save you. It would be well, sir, to examine further into this business.

Col. SINGLETON: Certainly, let the elder Mr. WHARTON approach and take the oath.

(The father makes an effort at composure, and, advancing with a feeble step, he complies with the necessary forms of the court.)

Col. SINGLETON: You are the father of the prisoner?

Mr. WHARTON: He is my only son.

Col. SINGLETON: And what do you know of his visit to your house, on the 29th day of October last?

Mr. WHARTON: He came as he told you, to see me and his sisters.

FIRST JUDGE: Was he in disguise?

Mr. WHARTON: He did not wear the uniform of the 60th.

Col. SINGLETON: To see his sisters, too! Have you daughters, sir?

Mr. WHARTON: I have two; both are in this house.

Col. SINGLETON: Had he a wig?

Mr. WHARTON: There was some such thing upon his head.

Col. SINGLETON: And how long had you been separated?

Mr. WHARTON: One year and two months.

Col. SINGLETON: Did he wear a great coat of coarse materials?

Mr. WHARTON: There was an overcoat.

Col. SINGLETON: And you think it was to see you only that he came out?

Mr. WHARTON: Me, and my daughters.

Col. SINGLETON (Whispering to one of his silent companions) A boy of spirit, I see but little harm in such a freak; 'twas imprudent, but then it was kind.

Col. SINGLETON (to the father) Do you know that your son was entrusted with no commission from Sir Henry Clinton, and that the visit to you was not merely a cloak to other designs?

Mr. WHARTON (alarmed) How can I know it? Would Sir Henry trust me with such a business?

Col. SINGLETON (exhibiting a paper that DUNWOODIE had retained when HENRY was taken) Know you anything of this pass?

WHARTON: Nothing, upon my honor, nothing. (Shrinking back)

Col. SINGLETON: Have you other testimony? This does not avail you, Captain WHARTON. You have been taken in a situation where your life is forfeited; the labor of proving your innocence rests with yourself. Take time to reflect, and be cool.

(There is a frightful calmness in the manner of this judge that appalls the prisoner. In the sympathy of Col. SINGLETON, he could easily lose sight of his danger; but the obdurate and collected air of the others is ominous of his fate. he continues silent, casting imploring glances towards his friend.)

(DUNWOODIE understands the appeal, and offers himself as a witness. He is sworn, and desires to relate what he knows. His statement does not materially alter the case, and DUNWOODIE feels that it can not. His account is listened to in silence, and the significant shake of the head that is made by the silent member speaks too plainly what effect it has produced.

Col. SINGLETON: Still you think that the prisoner had no other object than what he has avowed?

DUNWOODIE: None other, I will pledge my life.

FIRST JUDGE: Will you swear it?

DUNWOODIE: How can I? God alone can tell the heart; but I have known this gentleman from a boy; deceit never formed part of his character. He is above it.

Col. SINGLETON: You say he escaped and was retaken in open arms?

DUNWOODIE: He was; nay, he received a wound in the combat. You see he yet moves his arm with difficulty. Would he, think you, sir, have trusted himself where he could fall again into our hands, unless conscious of innocence?

Col. SINGLETON: Would Andre have deserted a field of battle, Major DUNWOODIE, had he encountered such an event, near Tarrytown? Is it not natural for youth to seek glory?

DUNWOODIE: Do you call this glory? an ignominious death, and a tarnished name?

Col. SINGLETON: Major DUNWOODIE, you have acted nobly; your duty has been arduous and severe, but it has been faithfully and honorably discharged; our must not be less so.

(During the examination, the most intense interest prevails among the listeners. With that kind of feeling which cannot separate the principle from the cause, most of the auditors think, that if DUNWOODIE fails to move the hearts of HENRY's judges, no other possesses the power.)

(CAESAR thrusts his awkward form forward; and his features, so expressive of the concern he feels, so different from the vacant curiosity pictured in the countenances of the other blacks, catches the attention of the silent judge. For the first time he speaks.)

QUIET JUDGE: Let the black be brought forward.

(It is too late to retreat, and CAESAR finds himself confronted with a row of rebel officers, before he knows what is uppermost in his thoughts. The others yield the examination to the one who suggested it, and using all due deliberation, he proceeds.)

QUIET JUDGE: You know the prisoner?

CAESAR: I tink I ought.

JUDGE: Did you give him the wig, when he threw it aside?

CAESAR: I don't want 'em; got berry good hair myself.

JUDGE: Were you employed in carrying any letters or messages while Capt. WHARTON was in your master's house?

CAESAR: I do what a tell me.

JUDGE: But what did they tell you to do?

CAESAR: Sometime one ting - sometime anoder.

Col. SINGLETON: Enough - you have the noble acknowledgment of a gentleman, what more can you obtain from this slave? Capt. WHARTON, you perceive the unfortunate impression against you. Have you other testimony to adduce?

(To HENRY there now remains but little hope; his confidence in his security is fast ebbing, but with an indefinite expectation of assistance from the loveliness of his sister, he fixes an earnest gaze on the pallid features of FRANCES. She rises and with a tottering step toward the judges; the paleness of her cheek gives way to a flush of fire, and with a light but firm tread, she stands before them.)

(Raising her hand to her polished forehead, FRANCES throws aside her exuberant locks, and displays a picture of beauty and innocence to their view that might have moved even sterner natures. The president shrouds his eyes for a moment, as if the wild eye and speaking countenance recalls the image of another. He recovers himself and says with an earnestness that betrays his secret wishes -)

Col. SINGLETON: To you then, your brother previously communicated his intention of paying your family a secret visit?

FRANCES: No! No! (pressing her hand to her brain as if to collect her thoughts.) He told me nothing - we knew not of the visit until he arrived; but can it be necessary to explain to gallant men, that a child would incur hazard to meet his only parent, and that in times like these, and in a situation like ours?

Col. SINGLETON: But was this the first time? Did he never even talk of doing so before?

FRANCES: Certainly - certainly, (she catches the expression of his benevolent countenance) This is but the fourth of his visits.

Col. SINGLETON: I knew it! An adventurous, warn-hearted son - I warrant me, gentlemen, a fiery soldier in the field! In what disguises did he come?

FRANCES: In none, for none was necessary; the royal troops covered the country, and gave him safe passage.

Col. SINGLETON: And was this the first of his visits out of the uniform of his regiment?

FRANCES: Oh, the very first; his first offense, I do assure you, if offense it be.

Col. SINGLETON: But you wrote him, you urged the visit; surely, young lady, you wished to see your brother?

FRANCES: That we wished for it, and prayed for it - Oh, how fervently we prayed for it! is true; but to have held communion with the royal army would have endangered our father, and we dared not.

Col. SINGLETON: Did he leave the house until taken, or had he any communication with others than those of your own dwelling?

FRANCES: With none - no one, excepting our neighbor, the peddler BIRCH.

Col. SINGLETON (turning pale and shrinking as from the sting of an adder): With whom?

DUNWOODIE (groaning aloud, and striking his head with his hand, cries in piercing tones):He is lost! (and he rushes from the room.)

FRANCES (gazing wildly at the door through which her lover disappeared): But HARVEY BIRCH -

ALL JUDGES: HARVEY BIRCH!

(The two immovable members of the court exchanged looks, and threw an inquisitive glance at their prisoner.)

HENRY: To you, gentlemen, it can be no new intelligence to hear that HARVEY BIRCH is suspected of favoring the royal cause, for he has already been condemned by your tribunals to the fate that I now see awaits myself. I will therefore explain, that it was by his assistance I procured the disguise, and passed your pickets; but, to my dying moment, and with my dying breath, I will avow, that my intentions were as pure as the innocent being before you.

Col. SINGLETON: Captain WHARTON, the enemies of American liberty have made mighty and subtle efforts to overthrow our power. A more dangerous man, for his means and education, is not ranked among our foes than this peddler of West-Chester. He is a spy - artful, delusive, and penetrating, beyond the abilities of any of his class. Sir Henry could not do better than to associate him with the officer in his next attempt. He would have saved Andre. Indeed, young man, this is a connection that may prove fatal to you!

(The honest indignation that beamed on the countenance of the aged warrior, was met by a look of perfect conviction on the part of his comrades.)

FRANCES (clasping her hands in terror) : I have ruined him! do you desert us? then he is lost indeed!

Col. SINGLETON: Forbear! - lovely innocent - forbear! You injure none, but distress us all.

FRANCES: Is it a crime to possess natural affection? Would Washington - the noble, upright, impartial Washington, judge so harshly? Delay till Washington can hear his tale.

Col. SINGLETON (covering his eyes as if to hide her beauty from his view): It is impossible!

FRANCES: Impossible! oh, but for a week suspend your judgment.

Col. SINGLETON: It is impossible; our orders are peremptory, and too long delay has been given already.

(His voice nearly chokes on his words, and he turns from the kneeling girl, but cannot extricate the hand that she grasps with frenzied fervor.)

FIRST JUDGE (to the officer who had the charge of HENRY): Remand your prisoner. Colonel SINGLETON, shall we withdraw?

FRANCES: SINGLETON! SINGLETON! then you are a father, and know how to pity a father's woes, you cannot, will not, wound a heart that is now nearly crushed. Hear me, Colonel SINGLETON, as God will listen to your dying prayers, hear me.

Col. SINGLETON (gently endeavoring to extricate his hand): Remove her. (But none appeared disposed to obey, and, fiercely, with a face flushed like fire, and every vein and artery swollen with suppressed emotion): What right has Heath to make an executioner of me! But I forgot myself; gentlemen, we have our duty as officers to discharge; our feelings as men may be indulged hereafter. What is your pleasure with the prisoner?

(One of the judges places in his hand a written sentence, that he prepared while the colonel was engaged with FRANCES, and declared it to be the opinion of himself and his companion.)

( It briefly stated that HENRY WHARTON had been detected in passing the lines of the American army as a spy,and in disguise. That, thereby, according to the laws of war, he was liable to suffer death, and that his court adjudged him to the penalty; recommending him to be executed by hanging, before nine o'clock on the following morning.)

(It was not unusual to inflict capital punishments, even on the enemy, without referring the case to the commander-in-chief, for his approbation; or in his absence, to the officer commanding for the time being. But, as Washington held his head-quarters at New-Windsor, on the western bank of the Hudson, sufficient time was yet before them to receive his answer.)

Col. SINGLETON: Come, gentlemen, let us mount; our painful duty must be done.

FRANCES: Mount not! go not! can you tear a son from his parent? a brother from his sister, so coldly? Is this the cause I have so ardently loved? Are these the men that I have been taught to reverence? But you relent, you do hear me, you will pity and forgive.

Col. SINGLETON: Lead on, gentlemen. (motioning toward the door and erecting himself into an air of military grandeur, in the vain hope of quieting his feelings.)

FRANCES: Lead not on, but hear me.

(One mighty emotion the veteran struggles with, and quells; but with a groan that shakes his whole frame. He even looks around in conscious pride at his victory; but a second burst of feeling conquers. His head, white with the frost of seventy winters, sinks upon the shoulder of the frantic girl.)

Col. SINGLETON (weeping aloud): May God bless you for this deed.

(The sentence of the court is communicated with proper tenderness to the prisoner; and after giving a few necessary instructions to the officer in command, and dispatching a courier to head-quarters with their report, the remaining judges mount and ride to their own quarters, with the same unmoved exterior that they maintained throughout the trial.)