SCENE 82 - Late afternoon HENRY's apartment
(In a country settled, like these states, by a people who fled their
native land and much loved firesides, victims of consciences and religious
zeal, none of the solemnities of a Christian death are dispensed with, when
circumstances will permit their exercise.)
(The good woman of the house was a strict adherent to the forms of the
church to which she belonged; and having herself been awakened to a sense
of her depravity, by the ministry of the divine who harangued the people
of the adjoining parish, she thought it was from his exhortations only that
salvation could be meted out to the short-lived hopes of HENRY WHARTON.)
(Not that the kind-hearted matron is so ignorant of the doctrines
of the religion which she professed, as to depend, theoretically, on mortal
aid for protection; but she had, to use her own phrase, "sat so long
under the preaching of good Mr. DILLERY," that she had unconsciously
imbibed a practical reliance on his assistance, for that which her faith
should have taught her could come from the Deity alone.)
(With her the consideration of death was at all times awful; and
the instant that the sentence of the prisoner was promulgated,she dispatched
CAESAR, mounted on one of her husband's best horses, in quest of her clerical
monitor. This step had been taken without consulting either HENRY or his
family; and it is only when the services of CAESAR are required on some
domestic emergency, that she explains the nature of his absence.)
(The youth hears her, at first, with a reluctance to admit such a
spiritual guide; but as our view of life becomes less vivid, our prejudices
and habits cease to retain their influence; and a civil bow of thanks is
finally given, in requital for the considerate care of the well-meaning
woman.)
(CAESAR returns early from his expedition, and, as well as could be gathered
from his somewhat incoherent narrative, a minister of God might be expected
to arrive in the course of the day.)
(DUNWOODIE had given orders to the sentinel guarding the door of HENRY's
room, that the members of the prisoner's family should, at all times, be
allowed free access to his apartment; CAESAR is included in this arrangement
as a matter of convenience, but strict enquiry and examination is required
into the errand of every other applicant.)
(The Major had, however, included himself among the relatives of the
British officer; and one pledge, that no rescue should be attempted, is
given in his name, for them all. A short conversation is passing between
the woman of the house and the corporal of the guard, before the door that
the sentinel already opened in anticipation of the decision of his non-commissioned
commandant.)
THE MATRON: Would you refuse the consolations of religion to a fellow
creature about to suffer death? Would you plunge a soul into the fiery furnace,
and a minister at hand to point out the strait and narrow path?
CORPORAL: I'll tell you what, good woman, I've no notion of my back
being a highway for any man to walk to heaven upon. A pretty figure I should
make at the pickets, for disobeying orders. Just step down and ask Lieutenant
MASON, and you may bring in the whole congregation. We have not taken the
guard from the foot soldiers, but an hour, and I shouldn't like to have
it said that we know less of our duty than the militia.
DUNWOODIE (observing that one of his own corps was on post):
Admit the woman.
(The corporal raises his hand to his cap, and falls back in silence;
the soldier stands to his arms, and the matron enters.)
MATRON: There is the reverend gentleman below, come to soothe the
parting soul, in the place of our own divine, who is engaged with an appointment
that could not be put aside; 'tis to bury old Mr. Meyer.
HENRY: Show him in
MATRON: But will the sentinel let him pass? I would not wish a friend
of Mr. Dillery to be rudely stopped on the threshold, and he a stranger.
(All eyes are now on DUNWOODIE, who, looking at his watch, speaks a few
words with HENRY, in an under tone, and hastened from the apartment, followed
by FRANCES. The subject of their conversation was a wish expressed by the
prisoner for a clergyman of his own persuasion, and a promise from the Major,
that one should be sent from Fishkill town, through which he is about to
pass, on his way to the ferry to intercept the expected return of HARPER.)
(MASON soon makes his bow at the door, and willingly complies with
the wishes of the landlady; and the divine is invited to make his appearance
accordingly. The person who was ushered into the apartment, preceded by
CAESAR, and followed by the matron, is a man beyond the middle age, or might
be said to approach the downhill of life.)
( In stature he is above the size of ordinary men, though his excessive
leanness might contribute in deceiving as to his height; his countenance
is sharp and unbending, and every muscle seems set in rigid compassion.
No joy, or relaxation, appears ever to have dwelt on features that frowned
habitually, as if in detestation of the vices of mankind.)
(The brows are beetling, dark and forbidding, giving the promise of
eyes of no less repelling expression; but the organs are concealed beneath
a pair of enormous green goggles, through which they glared around with
a fierceness that denounced the coming day of wrath. Long lank hair, a mixture
of gray and black, fall down his neck, and in some degree obscured the sides
of his face, and parting on his forehead, fell in either direction in straight
and formal screens.)
(On top of this ungraceful exhibition is laid, impending forward, so
as to overhang in some measure the whole fabric, a large hat of three equal
cocks. His coat is a rusty black, and his breeches and stockings are of
the same color; his shoes without luster, and half concealed beneath huge
plated buckles.)
(He stalks into the room, and giving a stiff nod with his head, takes
the chair offered him by the black, in dignified silence. For several minutes
no one brakes this ominous pause in the conversation; HENRY feeling a repugnance
to his guest, that he is vainly endeavoring to conquer, and the stranger
himself drawing forth occasional sighs and groans, that threatens a dissolution
of the connection between his sublimated soul and its ungainly tenement.)
(During this deathlike preparation, Mr. WHARTON, with a feeling nearly
allied to that of his son, leads SARAH from the apartment. His retreat is
noticed by the divine, in a kind of scornful disdain, who begins to hum
the air of a popular psalm tune, giving it the full richness of the twang
that distinguishes the Eastern psalmody.)
Miss PEYTON: CAESAR: hand the gentleman some refreshment; he must
need it after his ride.
The DIVINE (in a hollow, sepulchral voice): My strength is
not in the things of life. Thrice have I this day held forth in my master's
service, and fainted not; still it is prudent to help this frail tenement
of clay, for, surely "the laborer is worthy of his hire."
(Opening a pair of enormous jaws, he takes a good measure of the proffered
brandy, and suffered it to glide downward, with that sort of facility with
which man is prone to sin.)
The MATRON: I apprehend, sir, that fatigue will disable you from performing
the duties, which kindness has induced you to attempt.
The DIVINE: Woman, when was I ever, known to shrink from a duty? But
judge not, lest ye be judged, and fancy not that it is given to mortal eyes
to fathom the intentions of the Deity.
The MATRON: Nay, I pretend not to judge of either events, or the intentions
of my fellow creatures, much less of those of Omnipotence.
The DIVINE: 'Tis well, woman, 'tis well. Humility becomes thy sex,
and lost condition; they weakness driveth thee on headlong, like unto the
bosom of destruction.
(Surprised at this extraordinary deportment, but yielding to the habit
which urges us to speak recently on sacred subjects, even when we perhaps
should remain silent, Miss PEYTON speaks.)
Miss PEYTON: There is a power above, that can and will sustain us
in all well-doing, if we seek its support in humility and truth.
(The stranger turns a lowering look at the speaker, and then composing
himself into an air of self-abasement, he continues in the same repelling
tones.
The DIVINE: It is not everyone that crieth out for mercy, that will
be heard. The ways of Providence are not to be judged by men - "Many
are called, but few are chosen." It is easier to talk of humility,
than to feel it. Are you so humble, vile worm, as to wish to glorify God
by your own damnation? If not, away with you for a publican and a pharisee!
(Such gross fanaticism was uncommon in America, and Miss PEYTON begins
to imbibe the impression that her guest, is deranged; but remembering that
he had been sent by a well-known divine, and one of reputation, she discards
the idea, and, with some forbearance, )
Miss PEYTON: I may deceive myself, in believing that mercy is proffered
to all, but it is so soothing a doctrine, that I would not willingly be
undeceived.
The DIVINE: Mercy is only for the elect, and you are in the "valley
of the shadow of death." Are you not a follower of idle ceremonies,
which belong to the vain church, that our tyrants would gladly establish
here, along with their stamp-acts and tea laws? Answer me that, woman, and
remember, that Heaven hears your answer; are you not of that idolatrous
communion?
Miss PEYTON: I worship at the alters of my fathers, but bow to no
other idol than my own infirmities.
The DIVINE: Yes, yes, I know ye, self-righteous and papal as ye are
- followers of forms, and listeners to bookish preaching; think you, woman,
that holy Paul had notes in his hand to propound the word to believers?
Miss PEYTON: My presence disturbs you, I will leave you with my nephew,
to offer those prayers in private that I did wish to mingle with his.
(So saying she withdraws, followed by the landlady, who is not a little
shocked, and somewhat surprised, by the intemperate zeal of her acquaintance;
for, although the good woman believed that Miss PEYTON and her whole church
are on the high road to destruction, she is by no means accustomed to hear
such offensive and open avowals of their fate.)
(HENRY: has with difficulty repressed the indignation excited by this
unprovoked attack on his meek and unresisting aunt; but as the door closes
on her retiring figure, he gives way to his feelings.)
HENRY: I must confess, sir, that in receiving a minister of God, I
thought I was admitting a Christian; and one who, by feeling his own weaknesses,
knew how to pity the frailties of others. You have wounded the meek spirit
of an excellent woman, and I acknowledge but little inclination to mingle
in prayer with so intolerant a spirit.
(The minister stands erect, with grave composure, following with his
eyes, in a kind of scornful pity, the retiring females, and suffers the
expostulation of the youth to be given, as if unworthy of his notice. A
third voice, however, speaks -)
3rd VOICE: Such a denunciation would have driven many women into fits;
but it has answered the purpose well enough, as it is.
HENRY: Who's that? (gazing around the room in quest of the speaker)
HARVEY BIRCH (removing his glasses and exhibiting his piercing
eyes under a pair of false eyebrows): It is I, Captain WHARTON.
HENRY: Good heavens, HARVEY!
HARVEY: Silence; 'tis a name not to be mentioned, and least of all
here, within the heart of America. (Gazing around him with an emotion
exceeding the base passion of fear, and then continues in a gloomy tone)
There are a thousand halters in that very name, and little hope would
there be left me of another escape, should I be taken again. This is a fearful
venture I am making; but I could not sleep in quiet, and know that an innocent
man was about to die the death of a dog, when I might save him.
HENRY sings RISK:
"If risk to yourself be so heavy,.. retire from here
as you came... DUNWOODIE seeks out Mr. HARPER tonight ... who has the right
... to clear my name ... and he gave me an unasked promise ... in my father's
house that day ... to assist me if ever he could ... in any way."
HARVEY: Yes, but do you know him? that is - why do you think he has
the power? or what reason have you for believing he will remember his word?
HENRY: If there ever was the stamp of truth, or simple, honest benevolence,
in the countenance of man, it shone in his; besides, DUNWOODIE has powerful
friends in the rebel army, and it would be better that I take the chance
where I am, than thus to expose you to certain death, if detected.
HARVEY sings IF I FAIL YOU:
"Captain WHARTON,.. if I fail you,.. ALL fail you!
... No HARPER,.. nor DUNWOODIE,.. can save your life!.. Unless you ...go
out with me ... within the hour,... tomorrow ... on the gallows you will
die."
HARVEY: Yes, such are their laws; the man who fights, and kills, and
plunders, is honored; but he who serves his country as a spy, no matter
how faithfully, no matter how honestly, lives to be reviled or dies like
the vilest criminal!
HENRY: You forget, Mr. BIRCH, that I am not a treacherous, lurking
spy, who deceives to betray; but innocent of the charge imputed to me.
(The blood rushes over the pale, meager features of the peddler until
his face is one glow of fire; but it passes quickly away -)
HARVEY: I have told you truth. CAESAR met me, as he was going on his
errand this morning, and with him I have laid the plan which, if executed
as I wish, will save you - otherwise you are lost; and I again tell you,
that no other power on earth, not even Washington, can save you.
HENRY (yielding to his earnest manner and goaded by the fears
that are awakened anew): I submit.
(HARVEY motions him to be silent, and walking to the door, opens it with
the stiff formal air, with which he had entered the apartment.)
HARVEY (to the sentinel): we are about to go to prayer, and
would wish to be alone.
SENTINEL: I don't know that any will wish to interrupt you, but should
they be so disposed, I have no power to stop them, if they be of the prisoner's
friends; I have my orders, and must mind them, whether the Englishman goes
to heaven, or not.
HARVEY: Audacious sinner, have you not the fear of God before your
eyes! I tell you, as you will dread punishment at the last day, to let none
of the idolatrous communion enter, to mingle in the prayers of the righteous.
SENTINEL: Whee- ew - ew, what a noble commander you'd make for Sergeant
HOLLISTER! You'd preach him dumb in a roll call. Hark'ee, I'll thank you
not to make such a noise when you hold forth, as to drown out bugles, or
you may get a poor fellow a short horn at his grog, for not turning out
to the evening parade; if you want to be alone, have you no knife to stick
over the door-latch that you must have a troop of horse to guard your meeting-house?
(The peddler takes the hint, and closes the door immediately, using the
precaution suggested by the dragoon.)
HENRY: You overact your part; your zeal is too intemperate.
HARVEY: For a foot-soldier and them Eastern militia, it might be,
(turning a bag upside down that CAESAR now handed him) but these
dragoons are fellows you must brag down. A faint heart, Captain WHARTON,
would do but little here; but come, here is a black shroud for your good-looking
countenance (taking a parchment mask and fitting it to HENRY's face)
The master and the man must change places for a season.
CAESAR: I don't tink he look a bit like me (with disgust surveying
his young master with the new complexion.)
HARVEY: Stop a minute, CAESAR, till we get on the wool.
CAESAR: He worse than ebber now. I tink a colored man like a sheep!
(Great pains had been taken in forming the different articles used in
the disguise of Capt. WHARTON, and when arranged, under the skillful superintendence
of the peddler, they form together a transformation that would easily escape
detection, from any but an extraordinary observer.)
(The mask is stuffed and shaped in such a manner as to preserve the
peculiarities, as well as the color, of the African visage; and the wig
was so artfully formed of black and white wool, as to imitate the pepper
and salt color of CAESAR's own head, and to exact plaudits from the black
himself, who thinks it an excellent counterfeit in everything but quality.)
HARVEY: There is but one man in the American army who could detect
you, Capt. WHARTON, and he is just now out of our way.
HENRY: And who is he?
HARVEY: The man who made you prisoner. He would see your white skin
through a plank. But strip, both of you; your clothes must be exchanged
from head to foot.
(CAESAR, who had received minute instructions from the peddler in their
morning interview, immediately commences throwing aside his coarse garments,
which the youth takes up and prepares to invest himself with; unable, however,
to repress a few signs of loathing.)
(In the manner of the peddler there is an odd mixture of care and
humor; the former is the result of a perfect knowledge of their danger,
and the means necessary to be used in avoiding it; and the latter proceeds
from the unavoidable ludicrous circumstances before him, acting on in indifference
which springs from habit, and long familiarity with such scenes as the present.)
HARVEY: Here, Captain, (taking up some wool and stuffing the stockings
of CAESAR, which are already on the leg of the prisoner) some judgment
is necessary in shaping this limb. You will have to display it on horseback;
and the southern dragoons are so used to the brittle-shins, that should
they notice your well-turned calf, they'd know at once it never belonged
to a black.
CAESAR: Golly, massa HENRY's breeches fit.
HARVEY: Anything but your leg. Slip on the coat, Captain, over all.
Upon my word, you'd pass well at a pinkster frolic; and here, CAESAR, place
this powdered wig over your curls, and be careful and look out of the window,
whenever the door is open, and on no account speak, or you will betray all.
(Everything now is arranged for action, and the peddler very deliberately
goes over the whole of his injunctions to the two actors in the scene. The
Captain he conjures to dispense with his erect military carriage, and for
a season to adopt the humble paces of his father's negro; and CAESAR he
enjoins to silence and disguise, so long as he could possibly maintain them.)
(Thus prepared, he opens the door, and calls aloud to the sentinel, who
had retired to the farthest end of the passage, in order to avoid receiving
any of that spiritual comfort, which he feels is the sole property of another.)
HARVEY: Let the woman of the house be called, and let her come alone.
The prisoner is in a happy train of meditation, and must not be led from
his devotions.
(CAESAR sinks his face between his hands; and when the soldier looks
into the apartment, he thinks he sees his charge in deep abstraction. Casting
a glance of huge contempt at the divine, he calls aloud for the good woman
of the house. She hastens at the summons, with earnest zeal, entertaining
a secret hope that she is to be admitted to the gossip of a death-bed repentance.)
HARVEY (as minister): Sister, have you in the house "The
Christian Criminal's last Moments, or Thoughts on Eternity, for them who
die a violent death.?"
The MATRON: I never heard of the book.
HARVEY (as minister): 'Tis not unlikely; there are many books
you have never heard of; it is impossible for this poor penitent to pass
in peace, without the consolations of that volume. One hour's reading in
it, is worth an age of man's preaching.
The MATRON: Bless me, what a treasure to possess - when was it put
out?
HARVEY (as minister): It was first put out at Geneva in the
Greek language, and then translated at Boston. It is a book, woman, that
should be in the hands of every Christian, especially such as die upon the
gallows. Have a horse prepared instantly for this black, who shall accompany
me to my Brother Howard, and I will send down the volume yet in season -
Brother, compose thy mind; you are now in the narrow path to glory.
(CAESAR wiggles a little in his chair, but he has sufficient recollection
to conceal his face with hands that are, in their turn, concealed by gloves.
The landlady departs, to comply with this very reasonable request, and the
group of conspirators are again left to themselves.)
HARVEY: This is well, but the difficult task is to deceive the officer
who commands the guard - he is lieutenant to LAWTON, and has learned some
of the Captain's own cunning in these things. Remember, Captain WHARTON
(with an air of pride), that now is the moment when every thing depends
on our coolness.
HENRY: My fate can be made but little worse than it is at present,
my worthy fellow, but for your sake I will do all that in me lies.
HARVEY: And wherein can I be more forlorn and persecuted than I now
am? But I have promised one to save you, and to him I never have yet broken
my word.
HENRY: And who is he?
HARVEY: No one
(The man soon returns, and announces that the horses are at the door.
HARVEY gives the Captain a glance, and leads the way down the stairs, first
desiring the woman to leave the prisoner to himself, in order that he might
digest the wholesome mental food that he had so lately received.)
SCENE 83 - Late afternoon outside the house where Capt. WHARTON
is held prisoner
(A rumor of the odd character of the priest has spread from the sentinel
at the door to his comrades; so that when the disguised HARVEY and WHARTON
reach the open space before the building, they find a dozen idle dragoons
loitering about, with the waggish intention of quizzing the fanatic, and
employ in affected admiration of the steeds.)
DRAGOON (of the plan of mischief): A fine horse, but a little
low in flesh; I suppose from hard labor in your calling.
HARVEY (Putting his foot in the stirrup, preparing to mount):
My calling may be laborsome to both myself and this faithful beast, but
then a day of settling is at hand, that will reward me for all my outgoings
and incomings.
A SOLDIER: You work for pay, then, as we fight for't?
HARVEY: Even so - is not the laborer worthy of his hire?
THE SOLDIER: Come, suppose you give us a little preaching; we have
a leisure moment just now, and there's no telling how much good you might
do a set of reprobates like us, in a few words; here, mount this horseblock,
and take your text where you please.
(The soldiers gather in eager delight around the peddler, who glancing
his eye expressively towards the Captain, who had been suffered to mount,
replies -)
HARVEY: Doubtless, for such is my duty, but CAESAR, you can ride up
the road and deliver the note - the unhappy prisoner will be wanting the
book, for his hours are numbered.
Some SOLDIERS: Ay - ay, go along CAESAR, and get the book. (All
crowding eagerly around the ideal priest, in anticipation of a frolic.)
(The peddler inwardly dreads, that, in their unceremonious handling
of himself and garments, his hat and wig might be displaced, then detection
would be certain; he is therefore fain to comply with their request.)
(Ascending the horseblock, after hemming once or twice, and casting several
glances at the Captain, who continues immovable, he commences as follows
-)
HARVEY: I shall call you attention, my brethren, to this portion of
Scripture.
HARVEY sings SERMON:
"In Samuel Book Two,.. it can be read,.. 'And the
king lamented ... over Abner's death ... 'Died Abner as ... dieth a fool?
... his hands were not bound ... nor his feet fettered, too ... As a man
falleth down ... before wicked men ... so fell ... he in ... the end ...
and all the people wept again ... that Abner's death was grim.'"
(repeat melody) "Poor Abner had died ... taking
a stand, ... so when Paul went blind ... he followed God's command ... Was
Abner's choice ... foolish defense? ... whereas Paul chose to ... avoid
trouble he sensed? ... He said use self control ... and pray God will show
... you what ... his love can bring ... that through his strength ... and
by his will ... you can do everything."
(HARVEY's thoughts in his mind were relating the sermon to his own choice
of rescuing HENRY.)
HARVEY: CAESAR, ride forward, I say and obtain the book as directed;
thy master is groaning in spirit even now for the want of it.
DRAGOONS: An excellent text. Go on - go on. let the snowball stay;
he wants to be edified as well as another.
Lt. MASON: What are you at there, scoundrels? (As he comes in
sight from the walk he had taken to sneer at the evening parade of the regiment
of militia) Away with every man of you to your quarters, and let me find
that each horse is cleaned and littered, when I come round.
(The sound of the officer's voice operates like a charm, and no priest
could desire a more silent congregation, although he might possibly have
wished for one that was more numerous. MASON has not finished speaking,
when it is reduced to the image of CAESAR only.)
(The peddler took that opportunity to mount, but he had to preserve
the gravity of his movements, for the remark of the troopers upon the condition
of their beasts is but too just, and a dozen dragoon horses stand saddled
and bridled at hand, ready to receive their riders, at a moments's warning.)
Lt. MASON: Well, have you bitted the poor fellow within, that he can
take his last ride under the curb of divinity, old gentleman?
HARVEY (as reverend): There is evil in they conversation, profane
man, (casting his eyes upwards and raising his hands in holy horror)
so I will depart from thee unhurt, as Daniel was liberated from the lions'
den.
Lt. MASON: Off with you, for a hypocritical, psalm-singing, canting
rogue in disguise, by the life of Washington! It worries an honest fellow
to see such voracious beasts of prey ravaging a country for which he sheds
his blood. If I had you on a Virginia plantation for a quarter of an hour,
I'd teach you to worm the tobacco, with the turkeys.
HARVEY (as reverend): I leave you, and shake the dust off my
shoes, that no remnant of this wicked hole may tarnish the vestments of
godly.
Lt. MASON: Start, or I will shake the dust from your jacket, designing
knave! A fellow to be preaching to my men! There's HOLLISTER put the devil
in them by his exhorting; the rascals were getting too conscientious to
strike a blow that would rase the skin. But hold! whither do you travel,
master blackey, in such godly company?
HARVEY (as minister speaking hastily for his companion): He
goes to return with a book of much condolence and virtue to the sinful youth
above, whose soul will speedily become white, even as his outwards are black
and unseemly. Would you deprive a dying man of the consolation of religion?
Lt. MASON: No, no, poor fellow, his fate is bad enough; a famous good
breakfast his prim body of an aunt gave us. But, harkee, Mr. Revelations,
if the youth must die secundum artem, let it be under a gentleman's
directions; and my advice is, that you never trust that skeleton of yours
among us again, or I will take the skin off and leave you naked.
HARVEY (as reverend): Out upon thee for a reviler and scoffer
of goodness! (moving slowly, and with a due observance of clerical dignity,
down the road, followed by the imaginary CAESAR) but I leave thee, and
that behind me that will prove they condemnation, and take from thee a hearty
and joyful deliverance.
(Lt. MASON watches them as they ride off for some distance, musing over
their horsemanship.)
Lt. MASON: Damn him, the fellow rides like a stake, and his legs stick
out like the cocks of his hat, I wish I had him below these hills, where
the law is not ever particular, I'd -
SENTINEL: Corporal of the guard! - Corporal of the guard (shouting
through the passage of the chambers) Corporal of the guard!
(The subaltern flies up the narrow stairway that leads to the room
of the prisoner, demanding the meaning of the outcry.) | 