SCENE II. _Belmont. A room in Portia’s house. Enter Bassanio, Portia,
Gratiano, Nerissa, and attendants._
PORTIA.――[890]
I pray you, tarry: pause[891] a day or two
Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong,
I lose your company; therefore, forbear[892] a while
There’s something tells me, but it is not love,
I would not lose you; and you know yourself,[893]
Hate counsels not in such a quality.
I could teach you
How to choose right, but then I am forsworn;
So will I never be; so may you miss me;
But if you do, you’ll make me wish a sin,
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew[894] your eyes,
They have o’erlook’d me and divided me;
One half of me is yours,[895] the other half yours,[896]
Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,[897]
And so all yours.
I speak too long; but ’tis to peize the time,
To eke it, and to draw it out[898] in length,
To stay you from election.
BASSANIO.――
Let me choose;[899]
For as I am, I live upon the rack.
Come, let me to my fortune[900] and the caskets.
PORTIA.――
Away,[901] then! I am lock’d in one of them;
If you do love me, you will find me out.
Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof.[902]
Let music sound while he doth make his choice;
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
Fading[903] in music: that the comparison
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream
And watery death-bed for him.
Go,[904] Hercules!
Live thou, I live. With much more dismay
I view the fight, than thou[905] mak’st the fray.
BASSANIO.――
So may the outward shows be least themselves:
The world is still deceiv’d with ornament.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt
But, being season’d with a gracious voice,
Obscures[906] the show of evil? In religion,
What damnèd error, but some sober brow
Will bless[907] it, and approve it with a text,
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
Thus, ornament is but the guilèd shore
To a most dangerous sea, the beauteous scarf
Veiling[908] an Indian beauty;
Therefore, thou gaudy gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none[909] of thee;
Nor none[910] of thee, thou pale and common drudge
’Tween man and man: but thou,[911] thou meagre lead,
Which rather threat’nest than dost promise aught,
Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence;
And here choose I. Joy be the consequence!
PORTIA (_aside_).――
How all the other passions fleet[912] to air,
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac’d despair,
And shuddering fear,[913] and green-eyed jealousy!
O love! be moderate;[914] allay thy ecstasy;
In measure rein thy joy; scant this excess.
I feel too much thy blessing; make it less,
For fear I surfeit.
BASSANIO.――
What find I here?
(_Opening the leaden casket._)
Fair Portia’s counterfeit![915] What demi-god
Hath come so near creation?
Here’s the scroll,
The continent and summary of my fortune.
[916]_You that choose not by the view,
Chance as fair, and choose as true!
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content and seek no new.
If you be well pleas’d with this,
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your lady is,
And claim her with a loving kiss._
A gentle scroll.[917] Fair lady, by your leave;
I come by note, to give and receive.
Yet as doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm’d, sign’d, ratified by you.
PORTIA.――
You see me,[918] Lord Bassanio, where I stand,
Such as I am; though for myself alone
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish myself much better; yet for you[919]
I would be trebled twenty times[920] myself,
A thousand times[921] more fair, ten thousand times[922] more rich,
That only to stand high in your account,
I might in virtues,[923] beauties,[924] livings,[925] friends,[926]
Exceed account; but the full sum of me
Is sum of nothing,[927] which, to term in gross,
Is an unlesson’d girl, unschool’d, unpractis’d:
Happy in this,[928] she is not yet so old
But she may learn; happier than[929] this,
She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
Happiest of all[930] is that her gentle spirit
Commits itself to yours[931] to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Myself and what is mine[932] to you and yours[933]
Is now converted; but now I was the lord
Of this fair mansion,[934] master of my servants,
Queen o’er myself; and even now, but now,
This house, these servants, and this same myself[935]
Are yours,[936] my lord. I give them with this ring;[937]
Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage[938] the ruin of your love,
And be my vantage to exclaim you.
BASSANIO.――
Madam, you have bereft me[939] of all words;
Only my blood[940] speaks to you in my veins.
But when this ring[941]
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence;
O then be bold to say, Bassanio’s dead!
GESTURES.
[890] Portia speaks to the right and Bassanio to left.
[891] P. H. O.
[892] V. H. O.
[893] H. O.
[894] V. H. O.
[895] H. O.
[896] Imp.
[897] Imp.
[898] P. H. Sw.
[899] B. Cla.
[900] L. H. L.
[901] H. L.
[902] L. V. H. L. speak to L.
[903] P. H. Sw.
[904] L. H. L.
[905] H. O.
[906] V. H. O.
[907] P. H. O.
[908] P. H. O.
[909] V. Con.
[910] Imp.
[911] H. F.
[912] B. Sp.
[913] B. Cli.
[914] B. Cla. to breast.
[915] Hold miniature.
[916] Sp.
[917] Turn to left.
[918] B. H. O. Sp.
[919] H. O.
[920] B. H. O.
[921] - [922] Impulses.
[923] H. O.
[924] - [925] - [926] Imps.
[927] D. L.
[928] H. O.
[929] Imp.
[930] B. H. O.
[931] H. O.
[932] To self.
[933] H. O.
[934] H. Sw.
[935] To self.
[936] H. O.
[937] Sp.
[938] Ind. H. O.
[939] B. D. O. and bow.
[940] To breast.
[941] Sp.
Thora.
I.
Thin and graceful, like a clipper, Thora was from top to toe,
Though her dress was very scanty and perhaps, not _comme il faut_;
Bare and brown her little feet were, and her cheeks were sunburnt,
too,
But her lips were very rosy and her eyes were very blue.
One black skirt with red embroidery and a snowy white _pelisse_
Were her wonted dress on week-days, when she felt herself at ease.
Hats she only wore in winter, when with snow the air[942] was dim,
But her eyes peeped forth full brightly ’neath the big sou’wester’s
brim.
For who thinks that a sou’wester, e’en if e’er and e’er so wide,[943]
From the boys’ admiring glances could a pretty maiden hide.
And ’tis known[944] how much attention every pretty maid annoys;
And――it was a thousand pities![945]――Thora did not like the boys;
They were either rude and noisy, or too bashful and confused;
As for loving them! No, thank you;[946] she would rather be excused!
And, besides, there were so many[947]――stout and slender, short and
tall――
How should she her choice determine, since she could not love them
all?
Thus she spoke unto her mother, sitting in the evening’s glow,
In the shadow of the fish-nets,[948] which were drooping, row[949]
on row,[950]
From their stakes; while to the westward[951] hung the sun so huge
and red;
Tinged with flame the white-winged sea-birds,[952] drifting idly
o’er her head.
“Sooth to say, thy words are canny,”[953] said the good-wife with a
sigh,
Glancing seaward to conceal the merry twinkle in her eye;
“Yet ’tis right young maids should marry; childless age brings no
maid boon.
Beauty lost, in vain they hanker, fretting idly for the moon.
“Therefore I will tell thee,[954] daughter, what ’tis wise for thee
to do;
One man, e’en if e’er so canny,[955] never knows as much as two.
We will call the girls together from the valley’s every part,[956]
They shall choose among thy wooers him who is to own thy heart.”
“Oh! what sport!”[957] cried pretty Thora; “thanks to thee, my mother
dear!
Oh! how gayly we shall chatter when no prying men are near!
Loved and cherished shall my name be by the maidens round about;[958]
I shall cause no cheek to wither and no pretty lips to pout.”
II.
While the mountain tops[959] were rosy and with dew the grass[960]
was wet,
Thora hastened to the boat-house[961] to repair the fishing net;
Skipping, jumping, wild and wanton, danced[962] she o’er the fields
away,
Tossing[963] to the sportive echoes many a bright and careless lay.
When the lads who boats were bailing heard the pretty Thora sing,
Joining hands, they ran to meet her,[964] throwing round[965] the
maid a ring,
Now!” they cried, with boist’rous laughter; “now we’ve surely caught
thee, Miss,
Thou canst only buy thy freedom if thou give us each a kiss.”
“Come and take it,[966] lads,” cried Thora; “here’s my mouth[967] and
here my hand;[968]
Kiss, indeed! Why don’t you take it? Modest, sooth, is your demand!”
And when one stepped briskly forward, half emboldened by her speech,
With a slap[969] she sent him spinning, like a top upon the beach.
With a peal of mocking laughter, off[970] she bounded like a hind,
And her loosened yellow tresses fluttered gayly in the wind,
While the lad, abashed, bewildered, strolled away[971] with burning
ears
To compose his wounded feelings and escape his comrades’ jeers.
Now a gallant lad was Halvor, who in storm and billows’ roar
Oft had steered his skiff securely close beneath[972] the rocky shore,
And the thought within him rankled, with a dull and gnawing pain,
That a little maid had smote him whom he could not smite again.
And the dimpled face of Thora haunted him by night and day;
He was sure that he must love her, for his wrath had flown away;[973]
Yet he could have sworn a little, had not swearing been a sin,
Why should he thus love a maiden who was neither kith nor kin?
Strange to say, the little Thora, when her anger was at rest,
Found some queer, soft thoughts awaking dimly in her troubled
breast:[974]
“Had she not too harshly punished an offense not gravely meant?
Could she hope for God’s forgiveness who could rudely thus resent?”
Thus with doubt and passion wrestling, and by vague regrets
distraught,
Shyly nursing tender yearnings which she dared not frame in thought,
On the strand alone she wandered,[975] where, in whispered pulses
beat,
Drunk with sleep, the mighty ocean, darkly heaving at her feet.[976]
There it seemed――what odd illusion!――that her footsteps on the sand
Broke into a double rhythm, sharply echoing o’er the strand,
And she felt a shadowy presence in the moonlight, gaunt and
dread,[977]
Moving stealthily behind her,[978] and she dared not turn her head.
Swiftly, wildly, on[979] she hurried, while cloud, and moon, and star,
With a dumb, phantasmal ardor, sped along[980] th’ horizon’s bar;
Till exhausted, panting, sobbing, and bewildered with alarm,
Scarce she fell[981] ere she was lifted lightly on her lover’s
arm.[982]
“Thora,” said he, stooping o’er her, “pardon if I caused thee fright;
But my heart[983] was full to bursting. Speak I must, and speak
to-night.
Silence, Thora, is so heavy, like a load upon the breast;
Sooth, I think thou hast bewitched me; I can find no peace nor rest.”
Thora half-way stayed her weeping, and the moon,[984] which peeped
askance
From behind her cloud, revealed the tearful brightness of her glance.
“Oh! thou wouldst not love me,”[985] sobbed she, “if thou knew’st how
bad I am――
Once――I hung――a great, live lobster――on the tail of Hans, our ram!”
Scarce I know how he consoled her; but ere long her tears were dried,
And ’twas rumored in the parish――though again it was denied――[986]
That while all the moon was hidden――[987] all except the golden
tips――[988]
There was heard a sound mysterious, as of softly-meeting lips.
For the good-wife, mildly grumbling at the idle spinning-wheel,
Rose at length and trudged[989] sedately, anxious for the daughter’s
weal,
Over sand, and stone, and tangle, where the frightened plovers
flew[990]
Screaming seaward, and majestic skyward[991] soared the silent mew.
And ’twas she who with amazement heard the soft, mysterious sound;
And ’tis said she shook and tottered, almost fainting on the ground.
Scarce her reason she recovered, if the wild reports be true,
For she saw a queer-shaped figure,[992] which proved later to be two.
“Daughter,” said she, not ungently, “I have sought thee in alarm,
Fearing, in the treacherous moonlight, thou perchance hadst come to
harm;
Yet I hoped that I should find thee, though the night be dark and
drear,
Knowing that thou lov’st to wander where no prying men are near.”
Dumb, abashed stood little Thora, and her cheeks were flaming red;
Nervously she twirled her apron,[993] and she hung her pretty head,
Till at length she gathered courage and she whispered breathlessly:
“Mother, dear,[994] I love him truly, and he says that he loves me.”
“Lord ’a mercy on us, daughter!”[995] solemnly the dame replied;
“I who have the maids invited that they might thy choice decide;
For of men there are so many[996]――stout and slender, short and tall――
How’s a maid to choose among them, since she cannot love them all?”
Now the moon,[997] who had been hiding in a veil of misty lace,
Wishing to embarrass no one by the shining of her face,
Peeped again, in modest wonder, ere her cloud she gently broke,
And she saw the good-wife smiling, as to Thora thus she spoke:
“Since thou hast chosen, daughter――every bird[998] must try his
wings――
Tell me, how didst thou discover that thy heart to Halvor clings?”
“Well,” she said, in sweet confusion, while her eyes grew big with
tears,
“Thou wouldst scarcely understand it, mother dear――I boxed his ears.”
GESTURES.
[942] A. O.
[943] Measure.
[944] Ind. H. F.
[945] Con. V.
[946] Con. V.
[947] H. O.
[948] L. H. O.
[949] P. Sp.
[950] Imp.
[951] H. L.
[952] L. A. O.
[953] Impersonate.
[954] Ind. H. O.
[955] H. O.
[956] B. H. O.
[957] Speak to left, clasp hands.
[958] B. H. O.
[959] Left A. O.
[960] Left D. O.
[961] H. O.
[962] P. H. Sw.
[963] Raise P. Sp.
[964] B. H. F.
[965] B. Sp.
[966] Fold arms.
[967] To mouth.
[968] Sp.
[969] Sp.
[970] Left H. O.
[971] H. Sw.
[972] D. O.
[973] H. Sw.
[974] To breast.
[975] H. Sw.
[976] D. F.
[977] B. V. H. O.
[978] Glance sidewise without turning head.
[979] H. F.
[980] A. Sw.
[981] D. F.
[982] Sp.
[983] To heart.
[984] A. O.
[985] Sp.
[986] Ind. H. F.
[987] V. A. O.
[988] Ind. A. O.
[989] H. F.
[990] A. Sw.
[991] Raise P.
[992] Ind. H. F.
[993] Sp.
[994] B. Cla. to breast.
[995] B. raised V.
[996] B. H. O.
[997] A. O.
[998] H. O.
Valley Forge.
Extract from an oration delivered upon the occasion of the first
Centenary Anniversary of the Encampment at Valley Forge.
My countrymen, the century that has gone by[999] has changed the face
of nature and wrought a revolution in the habits of mankind. We stand
to-day at the dawn[1000] of an extraordinary age. Freed[1001] from the
chains of ancient thought and superstition, man has begun to win the
most extraordinary victories in the domain of science. One by one he
has dispelled[1002] the doubts of the ancient world. Nothing is too
difficult for his hand to attempt――no region too remote[1003]――no
place too sacred[1004] for his daring eye to penetrate. He has robbed
the earth[1005] of her secrets and sought to solve the mysteries of
the heavens![1006] He has secured and chained[1007] to his service the
elemental forces of nature――he has made the fire[1008] his steed――the
winds[1009] his ministers――the seas[1010] his pathway――the
lightning[1011] his messenger. He has descended into the bowels[1012]
of the earth, and walked in safety on the bottom[1013] of the sea. He
has raised his head above the clouds,[1014] and made the impalpable
air[1015] his resting-place. He has tried to analyze the stars,
count[1016] the constellations, and weigh the sun. He has advanced
with such astounding speed[1017] that, breathless, we have reached a
moment when it seems as if distance had been annihilated,[1018]
time made as naught, the invisible seen, the inaudible heard,
the unspeakable spoken, the intangible felt, the impossible
accomplished.[1019] And already we knock at the door of a new
century[1020] which promises to be infinitely brighter[1021] and more
enlightened and happier than this. But in all this blaze of light
which illuminates the present and casts its reflection into the
distant recesses of the past, there is not a single ray which shoots
into the future.[1022] Not one step have we taken toward the solution
of the mystery of life. That remains as dark and unfathomable[1023] as
it was ten thousand years ago.
We know[1024] that we are more fortunate than our fathers. We
believe[1025] that our children shall be happier than we. We
know[1026] that this century is more enlightened than the last. We
believe that the time to come[1027] will be better and more glorious
than this. We think, we believe, we hope, but we do not know.[1028]
Across that threshold[1029] we may not pass; behind that veil we may
not penetrate. Into that country it may not be for us to go. It may be
vouchsafed to us to behold[1030] it, wonderingly, from afar, but never
to enter in. It matters not. The age in which we live is but a link in
the endless and eternal chain. Our lives are like the sands upon the
shore;[1031] our voices like the breath of this summer breeze[1032]
that stirs the leaf for a moment and is forgotten. Whence we have come
and whither we shall go, not one[1033] of us can tell. And the last
survivor of this mighty multitude shall stay but a little while.
But in the impenetrable To Be, the endless generations are
advancing[1034] to take our places as we fall. For them as for us
shall the earth roll on[1035] and the seasons come and go, the
snowflakes fall, the flowers bloom, and the harvests be gathered in.
For them as for us shall the sun, like the life of man, rise out[1036]
of darkness in the morning and sink[1037] into darkness in the night.
For them as for us shall the years march by[1038] in the sublime
procession of the ages. And here,[1039] in this place of sacrifice, in
this vale of humiliation, in this valley of the shadow[1040] of that
Death out of which the life of America arose, regenerate and free, let
us believe with an abiding faith[1041] that, to them, Union will seem
as dear,[1042] and Liberty as sweet,[1043] and Progress as
glorious,[1044] as they were to our fathers and are to you[1045] and
me, and that the institutions which have made us happy, preserved by
the virtue of our children, shall bless the remotest generations of
the time to come.[1046] And unto Him[1047] who holds in the hollow of
His hand the fate of nations, and yet marks[1048] the sparrow’s fall,
let us lift up our hearts this day, and into His eternal care[1049]
commend ourselves, our children, and our country.
――_H. A. Brown._
GESTURES.
[999] H. Sw.
[1000] H. F.
[1001] H. O.
[1002] V. H. O.
[1003] H. B.
[1004] A. O.
[1005] D. F.
[1006] A. O.
[1007] P. H. F.
[1008] H. O.
[1009] A. O.
[1010] H. L.
[1011] Ind. A. O.
[1012] D. F.
[1013] P. D. Sw.
[1014] A. O.
[1015] V. A. O.
[1016] Ind. imps.
[1017] H. F. strong.
[1018] B. V. H. O.
[1019] D. F.
[1020] H. F.
[1021] H. Sw.
[1022] H. F.
[1023] P. D. O.
[1024] - [1025] - [1026] H. O.
[1027] H. F.
[1028] D. L.
[1029] P. D. F.
[1030] H. F.
[1031] H. L.
[1032] A. O.
[1033] D. L.
[1034] H. F.
[1035] P. H. Sw.
[1036] Raise P. F.
[1037] Drop P. L.
[1038] H. Sw.
[1039] H. F.
[1040] P. D. O.
[1041] A. O.
[1042] - [1043] H. O.
[1044] A. O.
[1045] H. O.
[1046] H. F.
[1047] A. F.
[1048] Ind. H. O.
[1049] A. F.
[Illustration: “Now I lay me down to sleep.”]
How “Ruby” Played.
Jud Brownin, when visiting New York, goes to hear Rubinstein, and
gives the following description of his playing.
Well, sir, he had the blamedest, biggest, catty-cornedest pianner you
ever laid eyes on; somethin’ like a distracted billiard-table on three
legs. The lid was hoisted, and mighty well it was. If it hadn’t been,
he’d a tore the entire inside clean out and scattered ’em to the four
winds of heaven.
_Played well?_ You bet he did; but don’t interrupt me. When he first
sit down, he ’peared to keer mighty little ’bout playin’, and wisht he
hadn’t come. He tweedle-leedled a little on the treble, and
twoodle-oodled some on the base――just foolin’ and boxin’ the thing’s
jaws for bein’ in the way. And I says to a man settin’ next to me,
says I, “What sort of fool playin’ is that?” And he says, “Heish!” But
presently his hands commenced chasin’ one another up and down the keys
like a parcel of rats scamperin’ through a garret very swift. Parts of
it was sweet, though, and reminded me of a sugar squirrel turnin’ the
wheel of a candy cage.
“Now,” I says to my neighbor, “he’s showin’ off. He thinks he’s a
doin’ of it, but he ain’t got no idee, no plan of nothin’. If he’d
play me a tune of some kind or other, I’d――”
But my neighbor says, “Heish,” very impatient.
I was just about to get up and go home, bein’ tired of that
foolishness, when I heard a little bird wakin’ up away off in the
woods, and call sleepy-like to his mate, and I looked up and see that
Ruby was beginning to take some interest in his business, and I sit
down again. It was the peep of day. The light came faint from the
east, the breezes blowed gentle and fresh; some more birds waked up in
the orchard, then some more in the trees near the house, and all begun
singin’ together. People began to stir, and the gal opened the
shutters. Just then the first beam of the sun fell upon the blossoms a
little more, and it techt the roses on the bushes, and the next thing
it was broad day; the sun fairly blazed, the birds sung like they’d
split their little throats; all the leaves was movin’, and flashin’
diamonds of dew, and the whole wide world was bright and happy as a
king. Seemed to me like there was a good breakfast in every house in
the land, and not a sick child or woman anywhere. It was a fine
mornin’.
And I says to my neighbor, “That’s music, that is.”
But he glared at me like he’d like to cut my throat.
Presently the wind turned; it began to thicken up, and a kind of gray
mist came over things; I got low-spirited directly. Then a silver rain
begun to fall. I could see the drops touch the ground; some flashed up
like long pearl earrings, and the rest rolled away like round rubies.
It was pretty, but melancholy. Then the pearls gathered themselves
into long strands and necklaces, and then they melted into thin silver
streams, runnin’ between golden gravels, and then the streams joined
each other at the bottom of the hill, and made a brook that flowed
silent, except that you could kinder see the music, specially when the
bushes on the banks moved as the music went along down the valley. I
could smell the flowers in the meadow. But the sun didn’t shine, nor
the birds sing; it was a foggy day, but not cold.
The most curious thing was the little white angel boy, like you see in
pictures, that run ahead of the music brook and led it on, and on,
away out of the world, where no man ever was, certain. I could see
that boy just as plain as I see you. Then the moonlight came, without
any sunset, and shone on the graveyards where some few ghosts lifted
their hands and went over the wall, and between the black, sharp-top
trees, splendid marble houses rose up, with fine ladies in the lit-up
windows, and men that loved ’em, but could never get a-nigh ’em, who
played on guitars under the trees, and made me that miserable I could
have cried, because I wanted to love somebody, I don’t know who,
better than the men with the guitars did.
Then the sun went down, it got dark, the wind moaned and wept like a
lost child for its dead mother, and I could a got up then and there
and preached a better sermon than any I ever listened to. There wasn’t
a thing in the world left to live for, not a blame thing, and yet I
didn’t want the music to stop one bit. It was happier to be miserable
than to be happy without being miserable. I couldn’t understand it. I
hung my head and pulled out my handkerchief, and blowed my nose loud
to keep me from cryin’. My eyes is weak, anyway. I didn’t want anybody
to be a-gazin’ at me a-snivelin’, and it’s nobody’s business what I do
with my nose. It’s mine. But some several glared at me, mad as blazes.
Then, all of a sudden, old Rubin changed his tune. He ripped out and
he rared, he tipped and he tared, he pranced and he charged like the
grand entry at a circus. ’Peared to me that all the gas in the house
was turned on at once, things got so bright, and I hilt up my head,
ready to look any man in the face, and afraid of nothin’. It was a
circus, and a brass band, and a big ball all a-goin’ on at the same
time. He lit into them keys like a thousand of brick; he gave ’em no
rest day or night; he set every livin’ joint in me a-goin’; and, not
bein’ able to stand it no longer, I jumped, sprang onto my seat, and
jest hollered:
“_Go it, Rube!_”
Every blamed man, woman, and child in the house riz on me and shouted,
“Put him out! Put him out!”
“Put your great-grandmother’s grizzly-gray-greenish cat into the
middle of next month!” I says. “Tech me, if you dare! I paid my money,
and you just come a-nigh me!”
With that some several policemen run up, and I had to simmer down. But
I could ’a’ fit any fool that laid hands on me, for I was bound to
hear Ruby out or die.
He had changed his tune again. He hop-light ladies and tip-toed fine
from end to end of the key-board. He played soft and low and solemn. I
heard the church-bells over the hills. The candles of heaven was lit,
one by one I saw the stars rise. The great organ of eternity began to
play from the world’s end to the world’s end, and all the angels went
to prayers. * * * Then the music changed to water; full of feeling
that couldn’t be thought, and began to drop――drip, drop――drip, drop,
clear and sweet, like tears of joy falling into a lake of glory. It
was sweeter than that. It was as sweet as a sweetheart sweetened with
white sugar mixt with powdered silver and seed diamonds. It was too
sweet. I tell you the audience cheered. Rubin he kinder bowed like he
wanted to say, “Much obleeged, but I’d rather you wouldn’t interrup’
me.”
He stopt a moment or two to ketch breath. Then he got mad. He run his
fingers through his hair, he shoved up his sleeves, he opened his
coat-tails a leetle further, he drug up his stool, he leaned over,
and, sir, he just went for that old pianner. He slapt her face, he
boxed her jaws, he pulled her nose, he pinched her ears, and he
scratched her cheeks, until she fairly yelled. He knockt her down, and
he stampt on her shameful. She bellowed, she bleated like a calf, she
howled like a hound, she squealed like a pig, she shrieked like a rat,
and _then_ he wouldn’t let her up. He ran a quarter-stretch down the
low grounds of the base, till he got clean in the bowels of the earth,
and you heard thunder galloping after thunder, through the hollows and
caves of perdition, and then he fox-chased his right hand with his
left till he got way out of the treble into the clouds, whar the notes
was finer than the pints of cambric needles, and you couldn’t hear
nothin’ but the shadders of ’em. And _then_ he wouldn’t let the old
pianner go. He for’ard two’d, he crost over first gentleman, he
chassade right and left, back to your places, he all hands’d aroun’
ladies to the right, promenade all, in and out, here and there, back
and forth, up and down, perpetual motion, double twisted and turned
and tacked and tangled into forty eleven thousand double bow knots.
By jinks! it was a mixtery. And then he wouldn’t let the old pianner
go. He fecht up his right wing, he fecht up his left wing, he fecht up
his centre, he fecht up his reserves. He fired by file, he fired by
platoons, by company, by regiments, and by brigades. He opened his
cannon――siege guns down thar, Napoleons here, twelve-pounders
yonder――big guns, little guns, middle-sized guns, round shot, shells,
shrapnels, grape, canister, mortar, mines, and magazines, every livin’
battery and bomb a-goin’ at the same time. The house trembled, the
lights danced, the walls shuk, the floor come up, the ceilin’ come
down, the sky split, the ground rokt――heavens and earth, creation,
sweet potatoes, Moses, ninepences, glory, tenpenny nails, Sampson in a
’simmon tree, Tump Tompson in a tumbler-cart, roodle-oodle-oodle-oodle――
ruddle-uddle-uddle-uddle――raddle-addle-addle-addle――riddle-iddle-iddle-
iddle――reedle-eedle-eedle-eedle――p-r-r-r-r-r-lang! Bang!!!! lang!
per-lang! p-r-r-r-r-r! Bang!!!
With that bang! he lifted himself bodily into the air, and he come
down with his knees, his ten fingers, his ten toes, his elbows, and
his nose, striking every single, solitary key on the pianner at the
same time. The thing busted, and went off into seventeen hundred and
fifty-seven thousand five hundred and forty-two hemi-demi-semi-quivers,
and I know’d no mo’.
When I come to, I were under ground about twenty foot, in a place they
call Oyster Bay, a-treatin’ a Yankee that I never laid eyes on before,
and never expect to again. Day was br’akin’ by the time I got to the
St. Nicholas Hotel, and I pledge you my word I did not know my name.
The man asked me the number of my room, and I told him, “Hot music on
the half-shell for two!”
Nydia, the Blind Girl of Pompeii.
Adapted from Helen Potter’s rendering, by Frances E. Peirce.
Nydia was a Thessalonian, and well-born. Being taken prisoner by the
Romans, she was sold into slavery, and treated with great cruelty. Her
blindness, beauty, and pitiful condition appealed to the sympathies of
Glaucus, a wealthy young Athenian, who purchased her. Arbaces, envious
of her possession, and an enemy of Glaucus, captured and imprisoned
her, and caused Glaucus to be accused of murder and condemned to fight
a lion in the arena. The lion refused, however, to touch him, and
Nydia, escaping from her prison at the time of the dreadful eruption
of Vesuvius, found Glaucus, and conducted him and his _fiancée_ to the
sea. Finding that he loved another, she drowned herself.
* * * * *
Kind Sosia, chide[1050] me not. I cannot endure to be so long alone;
the solitude appals[1051] me. Sit with me, I pray, a little while.
Nay,[1052] fear not that I should attempt to escape. Place thy
seat[1053] before the door. Keep thine eye on me, I will not stir from
this spot. Alas! why[1054] am I imprisoned here? [1055]What is the
hour? Evening, thou sayest? Hast thou heard how went the trial of the
Athenian, Glaucus? He is condemned for shedding priestly blood![1056]
The gods forbid! ’Tis false, ’tis false, I say! Arbaces saw[1057] the
deed? Arbaces, the Egyptian? Arbaces hates the priest; hates Glaucus,
too. Come, Truth,[1058] and triumph o’er thy foes. (_Exit Sosia._)
What shrieks are those I hear;[1059] so near and yet so far! It seems
this way,[1060] here! Ah! yes. (_Calls._) Who is it in distress? Who
cries aloud? Calenus, the priest? What, you saw Arbaces strike the
blow! Then you can prove dear Glaucus innocent. But why are you here?
(_Aside._) Ah! me! if free to speak, he could save[1061] my master!
(_Calls again._) Listen, if you were free, would you give testimony
against Arbaces, the rich and powerful Arbaces? Would you the truth
proclaim? Would you save the Athenian? Your priestly word can save
him. If I procure you liberty, you will not play me false? No, no! I
will not doubt you; you could not be so cruel! Remember, Calenus, you
have promised![1062]
How can I release the priest?[1063] how best the truth make known? how
gain the præetor’s ear? Ah! these gems[1064] I have worn so long may
clear the way. I was not born a slave――no, no! My birth is equal his.
Why, then freedom would give me the right to love dear Glaucus.
Sosia! Sosia! Come hither,[1065] guard. Sosia, how much dost thou
require to make up the purchase of thy freedom? Two thousand
sesterces! The gods be praised![1066] Not more? Seest thou these
bracelets[1067] and this chain?[1068] I’ll give them thee if thou wilt
let me out, only for one little hour; let me out at midnight; I will
return before to-morrow’s dawn; nay, thou[1069] canst go with me, keep
me in sight, and bring me back again. How could I flee from thee
against thy will? I am blind! Thou sayest me nay?[1070] Is there no
hope, then? Oh! he is leaving me![1071] I shall go mad,[1072] mad!
Stay,[1073] one moment――only one――thou wilt not at least refuse to
take a letter for me; thy master cannot kill thee for that. Thou wilt?
The gods be praised![1074] Bring me a tablet of wax and a stilus.
(_Writes._)
“[1075]Nydia, the slave, to Sallust, the friend of Glaucus. I am a
prisoner in the house of Arbaces. Hasten to the prætor and procure my
release, and we shall yet save Glaucus from the lion. There is another
prisoner within these walls, whose witness can exonerate the Athenian
from the charge against him; one who saw the crime――who can prove the
criminal is a villain hitherto unsuspected. Fly! hasten! quick! quick!
Bring with you armed men, lest resistance be made, and a cunning and
dexterous smith; for the dungeon of my fellow-prisoner is thick and
strong. Oh! by thy right hand, and thy father’s ashes, lose not a
moment.”
Sosia, I am blind and in prison. Thou mayest think to deceive me――thou
mayest pretend only to take the letter to Sallust, but here I solemnly
dedicate[1076] thy head to vengeance, thy soul to the infernal[1077]
powers, if thou wrongest thy trust, and I call upon thee to place thy
right hand of faith in mine,[1078] and repeat after me these words:
“By the ground on which we stand――by the elements which contain life,
and can curse life――by Orcus, the all-avenging――by the Olympian
Jupiter, the all-seeing――I swear that I will discharge my trust and
faithfully deliver into the hands of Sallust this letter. And if I
perjure myself in this oath, may the full curses of heaven and hell be
wreaked upon me.” Enough!――I trust thee――take thy reward.[1079] It is
already dark――depart at once. (_Exit Sosia._)
And I, alas, I am a slave forevermore.[1080] No more can look for
freedom――for love. Tears, tears! Why, why should eyes that cannot see
have power to weep?
Hark![1081] the lion roars as if in fear. It is the amphitheatre and
the games are on! I hear a cry, I hear a voice[1082]――“_The lion
touches not the victim!_” Aye, even the wild beasts love Glaucus.
“_Arbaces, the Egyptian, is the murderer! Glaucus is innocent! Set him
free! Set him free!_” He is saved, he is saved![1083] What
heaviness[1084] fills the air? The ground trembles as though rocked by
an earthquake, or is it the throbbing of my heart?[1085] What does it
mean? Sosia, Sosia! Unlock the door and let me out. [1086]What sounds
do I hear? What thunder shakes the ground; what cries――what strange
sounds; the air is hot and stifling――I cannot breathe! Oh! Sallust, is
that thy voice? Speak! and tell me what has happened. Vesuvius all
ablaze, and the sun gone down at noon? Ah! the gods[1087] are angry!
Canst thou tell me of Glaucus? Hast thou seen him? crouched beneath
the arch of the Forum? Ah, then, I can find him, for I am free! Some
friendly hand slipped the bolts of my prison.
[1088]Glaucus! Glaucus! How can I hope to reach his ears amidst all
this tumult and confusion? Hark![1089] a new sound comes from afar. It
is the chant of the Christians on their way to their temple to
worship.
(Chanted.)
_Woe! woe! Behold the Lord descendeth to judgment!
He maketh fire come down from the heavens in the sight of men!
Woe! woe! ye strong and mighty!
Woe to ye of the fasces and the purple!
Woe to the idolater and the worshiper of the beast!
Woe to ye who pour forth the blood of saints and gloat over the death
pangs of the sons of God! Woe! woe!_
Glaucus! Glaucus![1090] He answers my call. Ah! take[1091] my hand;
this way,[1092] this way; to the sea, to the sea! Trust me, I know the
way! To the sea, to the sea! (_Exit._)
(Chant off the stage.)
_Woe to the proud ones who defy Him;
Woe to the wicked who deny Him;
Woe to the wicked, woe!_
――_Lord Lytton._
GESTURES.
[1050] V. con.
[1051] B. V. H. O.
[1052] V. con.
[1053] H. F.
[1054] Drop hand hopelessly.
[1055] Sits.
[1056] Rises suddenly.
[1057] Ind. H. F.
[1058] B. H. F.
[1059] Lis.
[1060] Feels her way round the wall.
[1061] Clasp hands.
[1062] Feels her way back again.
[1063] Intense thoughtful position.
[1064] Feels wrists and throat.
[1065] Beckon.
[1066] Clasp hands.
[1067] Show wrists.
[1068] To neck.
[1069] H. F.
[1070] Both hands appealingly to front, then stagger back.
[1071] Start forward.
[1072] Hand to head.
[1073] P. H. F.
[1074] Throw B. up.
[1075] Motion of writing for the whole letter.
[1076] Ind. straight up.
[1077] Ind. D. F.
[1078] H. F.
[1079] H. F.
[1080] Weeps.
[1081] Lis.
[1082] For all words italicized use a far-off, imitative voice.
[1083] B. thrown upward.
[1084] Hand to breast.
[1085] To heart.
[1086] The next lines must be given with strong dramatic power,
natural gestures, and intense facial expression.
[1087] Clasp hands.
[1088] Take several steps to right.
[1089] Lis. to left.
[1090] Speak to right.
[1091] H. O.
[1092] Left H. O.
The Dream of Eugene Aram.
’Twas in the prime of summer-time,
An evening calm and cool,
And four-and-twenty happy boys
Came bounding out of school;[1093]
There were some that ran, and some that leapt
Like troutlets in the pool.
Away[1094] they sped, with gamesome minds,
And souls untouched by sin;
To a level mead they came, and there
They drave the wickets in:
Pleasantly shone[1095] the setting sun
Over the town of Lynn.
Like sportive deer they coursed about,
And shouted as they ran――
Turning to mirth all things[1096] of earth,
As only boyhood can,
But the usher[1097] sat remote from all,
A melancholy man!
His hat was off, his vest apart,
To catch Heaven’s[1098] blessed breeze;
For a burning thought was in his brow,
And his bosom ill at ease;
So he leaned his head on his hands, and read
The book between his knees.
Leaf after leaf he turned[1099] it o’er,
Nor ever glanced aside,
For the peace of his soul he read that book
In the golden eventide;
Much study had made him very lean,
And pale, and leaden-eyed.
At last he shut the ponderous tome;
With a fast and fervent grasp
He strained[1100] the dusky covers close,
And fixed the brazen hasp:
“O God![1101] could I so close my mind,
And clasp it with a clasp!”
Then leaping[1102] on his feet upright:
Some moody turns he took――
Now up the mead, then down the mead,
And past a shady nook――
And lo! he saw a little boy[1103]
That pored upon a book.
“My gentle lad, what is’t you read,
Romance or fairy fable?
Or is it some historic page,
Of kings and crowns unstable?”
The young boy gave an upward glance――
“It is ‘The Death of Abel.’”[1104]
The usher took six hasty strides,
As smit with sudden pain――
Six hasty strides beyond the place,
Then slowly back again;
And down[1105] he sat beside the lad,
And talked with him of Cain;
And, long since then, of bloody men
Whose deeds tradition saves;
Of lonely folk cut off unseen,
And hid[1106] in sudden graves;
Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn,
And murders done in caves;
And how the sprites of injured men
Shriek upward[1107] from the sod――
Ay, how the ghostly hand will point
To show the burial clod;
And unknown facts of guilty acts
Are seen in dreams from God;
He told how murderers walked the earth
Beneath the curse[1108] of Cain,
With crimson clouds before their eyes,
And flames about their brain;
For blood has left upon their souls
Its everlasting stain.
“And well,” quoth he, “I know, for truth,
Their pangs must be extreme――
Woe, woe, unutterable woe,[1109]
Who spill life’s sacred stream!
_For why?_ Methought, last night, I wrought
A murder in a dream!
“One that had never done me wrong,
A feeble man, and old;
I led him to a lonely field――[1110]
The moon[1111] shone clear and cold;
‘Now here,’ said I, ‘this man shall die,
And I will have his gold!’
“Two sudden blows[1112] with ragged stick,
And one with a heavy stone,
One hurried gash[1113] with a hasty knife,
And then the deed was done;
There was nothing lying at my foot
But lifeless flesh and bone.
“Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone,
That could not do me ill;
And yet I feared him all the more,
For lying there so still;[1114]
There was a manhood in his look,
That murder could not kill.
“And, lo! the universal air[1115]
Seemed lit with ghastly flame;
Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes[1116]
Were looking down in blame;
I took the dead men by his hand,[1117]
And called upon his name.
“O God![1118] it made me quake to see
Such sense within the slain;
But when I touched[1119] the lifeless clay,
The blood gushed out[1120] amain;
For every clot a burning spot
Was scorching in my brain.[1121]
“My head was like an ardent coal;
My heart[1122] as solid ice;
My wretched, wretched soul, I knew,
Was at the devil’s price;
A dozen times I groaned; the dead
Had never groaned but twice.
“And now, from forth the frowning sky,[1123]
From the heaven’s topmost height,
I heard a voice――the awful voice
Of the blood-avenging sprite:
‘Thou guilty man! take up thy dead,
And hide it from my sight!’
“I took the dreary body up,[1124]
And cast[1125] it in a stream――
A sluggish water, black[1126] as ink,
The depth was so extreme,
My gentle boy, remember[1127] this
Is _nothing but a dream_!
“Down[1128] went the corpse with hollow plunge,
And vanished in the pool;
Anon I cleansed[1129] my bloody hands,
And washed my forehead[1130] cool,
And sat among the urchins young,
That evening in the school.
“O heaven![1131] to think of their white souls,
And mine so black and grim!
I could not share in childish prayer,
Nor join in evening hymn;
Like a devil of the pit[1132] I seemed,
Mid holy cherubim.
“And peace went with them, one and all,
And each calm pillow spread;
But guilt was my grim chamberlain,
That lighted me to bed;
And drew my midnight curtains round,[1133]
With fingers bloody red.
“All night I lay in agony,
In anguish[1134] dark and deep,
My fevered eyes I dared not close,
But stared aghast at Sleep;
For Sin has rendered unto her
The keys of hell to keep.
“All night I lay in agony,
From weary chime to chime,
With one besetting, horrid hint,
That racked[1135] me all the time――
A mighty yearning like the first
Fierce impulse unto crime.
“One stern tyrannic thought, that made
All other thoughts its slave;[1136]
Stronger and stronger every pulse
Did that temptation crave,
Still urging me to go[1137] and see
The dead man in his grave.
“Heavily I rose up, as soon
As light was in the sky,
And sought the black, accursed[1138] pool,
With a wild, misgiving eye;
And I saw the dead[1139] in the river bed,
For the faithless stream was dry.
“Merrily rose the lark,[1140] and shook
The dewdrop from its wing;
But I never marked its morning flight,
I never heard it sing;
For I was stooping once again
Under the horrid thing.
“With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,
I took him up[1141] and ran;
There was no time to dig a grave
Before the day began:
In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves,
I _hid_[1142] the murdered man;
“And all that day I read in school,
But my thought was otherwhere;
As soon as the midday task was done,
In secret I was there;
And a mighty wind had swept[1143] the leaves,
And _still_ the corpse[1144] was bare.
“Then down I cast me[1145] on my face,
And first began to weep,
For I knew my secret then was one
That earth refused to keep――
Or land or sea, though he should be
Ten thousand fathoms[1146] deep.
“So wills the fierce avenging sprite,
Till blood for blood atones;
Ay, though he’s buried in a cave,
And trodden down with stones,
And years have rotted off his flesh,
The world shall see his bones.
“O God! that horrid, _horrid_[1147] dream
Besets me now, _awake_;
Again, again, with dizzy brain,[1148]
The human life I take;
And my red right hand grows raging hot,
Like Cranmer’s at the stake.
“And still no peace for the restless clay,
Will wave or mould allow;
The horrid thing _pursues_ my soul――
It stands before[1149] me _now_!”
The fearful boy looked up, and saw
Huge drops upon his brow.
That very night, while gentle sleep
The urchin’s eyelids kissed,
Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn,
Through the cold and heavy mist;
And Eugene Aram walked[1150] between,
_With gyves upon his wrist_.
――_Thomas Hood._
GESTURES.
[1093] H. O.
[1094] H. Sw.
[1095] P. H. Sw.
[1096] B. H. O.
[1097] Left H. O.
[1098] Glance up.
[1099] Sp.
[1100] Sp.
[1101] Look up.
[1102] Left, raise P.
[1103] D. F.
[1104] Look up.
[1105] D. F.
[1106] P. D. F.
[1107] Raise P.
[1108] P. H. O.
[1109] Shake head.
[1110] H. F.
[1111] A. O.
[1112] Sp.
[1113] Sp.
[1114] P. D. F.
[1115] A. Sw.
[1116] Ind. A. Impulses.
[1117] Sp.
[1118] Left hand to face.
[1119] P. Sp.
[1120] Raise P. Sp.
[1121] To head.
[1122] To heart sustained.
[1123] Look up. [1124] - [1125] B. Sp.
[1126] P. D. F.
[1127] Ind. H. O.
[1128] D. F.
[1129] B. Sp.
[1130] To head.
[1131] Clasp hands and look up.
[1132] Ind. D. O.
[1133] B. Sp.
[1134] B. Cli. D.
[1135] To breast.
[1136] P. D. O.
[1137] H. O.
[1138] V. D. O.
[1139] Ind. D. O.
[1140] A. O.
[1141] B. Sp.
[1142] P. D. O.
[1143] P. D. Sw.
[1144] D. O.
[1145] B. P. D. F.
[1146] D. F.
[1147] B. V. H. O.
[1148] To head.
[1149] H. F. and shrink backward.
[1150] H. F.
[Illustration: “Shoo! shoo! a mouse, a great mouse! shoo! shoo!”]
One Day Solitary.[1151]
I am all right! Good-bye,[1152] old chap!
Twenty-four hours, that won’t be long;
Nothing to do but take a nap,
And――say![1153] can a fellow sing a song?
Will the light fantastic be in order――
A pigeon-wing[1154] on your pantry floor?
What are the rules for a regular boarder?
Be quiet? All right![1155] Cling-clang goes the door.
_Clang-clink_ the bolts, and I am locked in;
Some pious reflection and repentance
Come next, I suppose, for I just begin
To perceive the sting[1156] in the tail of my sentence――
“One day whereof shall be solitary.”
Here I am at the end of my journey,
And[1157]――well, it ain’t jolly, not so very――
I’d like to throttle[1158] that sharp attorney.
He took my money, the very last dollar,[1159]
Didn’t leave me so much as a dime,
Not enough to buy me a paper collar
To wear at my trial; he knew all the time[1160]
’Twas some that I got for the stolen silver.
Why hasn’t he been indicted, too?
If he doesn’t exactly rob and pilfer,
He lives by the plunder[1161] of them that do.
Then didn’t it put me into a fury,
To see him step up,[1162] and laugh and chat
With the county attorney, and joke with the jury,
When all was over, then go back[1163] for his hat,
While Sue was sobbing to break her heart,
And all I could do was to stand and stare?[1164]
He had pleaded my cause,[1165] he had played his part,
And got his fee――and what more[1166] did he care?
It’s droll to think how, just out yonder,[1167]
The world goes jogging on the same;
Old men will save, and boys will squander,
And fellows will play at the same old game
Of get-and-spend to-morrow,[1168] next year――
And drink and carouse, and who will there be
To remember a comrade buried here?[1169]
I am nothing to them, they are nothing to me.
And Sue――yes, she will forget me too,
I know; already her tears are drying.
I believe there is nothing that girl can do
So easy as laughing, and lying, and crying.
She clung to me while there was hope,
Then broke her heart in that last wild sob;
But she ain’t going to sit and mope
While I am at work on a five years’ job.
They’ll set me to learning a trade, no doubt,
And I must forget to speak or smile;
I shall go marching in[1170] and out,[1171]
One of a silent tramping file
Of felons, at morning, and noon, and night,
Just down to the shops[1172] and back to the cells,[1173]
And work with a thief at left[1174] and right,[1175]
And feed, and sleep, and――nothing else.[1176]
Was I born for this?[1177] Will the old folks know?
I can see them[1178] now on the old home-place;
His gait is feeble, his step is slow,
There’s a settled grief on his furrowed face;
While she goes wearily groping[1179] about
In a sort of dream, so bent, so sad!
But this won’t do![1180] I must sing and shout,
And forget myself, or else go mad.[1181]
I won’t be foolish; although for a minute[1182]
I was there[1183] in my little room once more.
What wouldn’t I give just now to be in it?
The bed is yonder,[1184] and there[1185]is the door;
The Bible is here[1186] on the neat, white stand;
The summer sweets are ripening now;
In the flickering light I reach my hand[1187]
From the window, and pluck them from the bough.
When I was a child (oh! well for me
And them if I had never been older!),
When he told me stories on his knee,
And tossed me, and carried me on his shoulder;
When she knelt down and heard my prayer,
And gave me in my bed my good-night kiss――
Did they ever think that all their care
For an only son could come to this?
Foolish again![1188] No sense in tears
And gnashing the teeth; and yet,[1189] somehow,
I haven’t thought of them so for years;
I never knew them, I think, till now.
How fondly, how blindly, they trusted me!
When I should have been in my bed asleep,
I slipped from the window,[1190] and down[1191] the tree,
And sowed for the harvest which now I reap.
And Jennie――how could I bear to leave her?
If I had but wished――but I was a fool!
My heart was filled with a thirst and a fever,
Which no sweet airs of heaven could cool.
I can hear her asking: [1192]“Have you heard?”
But mother falters and shakes her head;
[1193]“O Jennie! Jennie! never a word!
What can it mean? He must be dead!”
[1194]Light-hearted, a proud, ambitious lad,
I left my home that morning in May;
What visions,[1195] what hopes, what plans I had!
And what have I[1196]――where are they all[1197]――to-day?
Wild fellows, and wine, and debts, and gaming,
Disgrace,[1198] and the loss of place and friend;
And I was an outlaw,[1199] past reclaiming.
Arrest and sentence, and――that is the end![1200]
Five years! Shall ever I quit this prison?[1201]
Homeless, an outcast, where[1202] shall I go?
Return to them, like one arisen[1203]
From the grave, that was buried long ago?
All is still;[1204] ’tis the close of the week;
I slink[1205] through the garden, I stop by the well,
I see him totter,[1206] I hear her shriek!――
What sort of a tale will I have to tell?
But here I am![1207] What’s the use of grieving?
Five years――will it be too late to begin?
Can sober thinking and honest living
Still make me the man I might have been?
I’ll sleep. Oh![1208] would I could wake to-morrow
In that old room, to find, at last,
That all my troubles and all their sorrow
Are only a dream[1209] of the night that is past.
――_J. T. Trowbridge._
[1151] Requires a table and chair.
GESTURES.
[1152] Wave hand.
[1153] P. H. O.
[1154] Sp. feet.
[1155] Nod.
[1156] Ind. H. F.
[1157] Walk up and down.
[1158] Sp.
[1159] H. F.
[1160] B. H. O. conversational.
[1161] H. O.
[1162] Imitate.
[1163] Left H. L.
[1164] Imitate.
[1165] B. H. O.
[1166] H. L.
[1167] L. H. O.
[1168] H. F.
[1169] D. F.
[1170] Hand carried across body and then out to.
[1171] H. O.
[1172] H. O.
[1173] H. F.
[1174] Left H. O.
[1175] H. O.
[1176] Sit.
[1177] Left elbow on table, hand to head.
[1178] H. O.
[1179] P. H. O.
[1180] Rise.
[1181] To head.
[1182] Sit.
[1183] H. O.
[1184] H. F.
[1185] H. O.
[1186] Left H. F.
[1187] H. O. Sp.
[1188] Toss head.
[1189] Head in hand.
[1190] H. O.
[1191] D. O.
[1192] To left.
[1193] To right.
[1194] Rise.
[1195] V. H. F.
[1196] H. O.
[1197] B. H. O.
[1198] P. D. O.
[1199] H. L.
[1200] Look around cell, B. H. O.
[1201] Sit.
[1202] B. H. O.
[1203] Raise P.
[1204] P. H. F.
[1205] P. Sw. to F.
[1206] H. F.
[1207] Thumbs in armholes of vest, and lean back in chair.
[1208] Head on hand.
[1209] V. Sp.
Meg Merrilies.
ADAPTED BY FRANCES E. PEIRCE.
ARGUMENT.――Henry Bertram is stolen by the gypsies when a child; he is
abandoned by them, serves in the army, and finally wanders back to his
native place. The gypsies discover him, and, to extort money from the
man who holds illegal possession of young Bertram’s estates, conspire
to carry him off by force or to murder him. From this dilemma old Meg
Merrilies delivers him at the peril of her life. Shot by her own
people, she dies heroically proclaiming his heirship to the estates of
Ellangowan.
ACT II.
SCENE III. _A wild forest, cliff and hills in the distance; a gypsy
hut in the centre._
BERT.――My good woman, do you know me, that you look at me so hard?
MEG.――Ay, better than you know yourself!
BERT.――Aye, aye. That is, you’ll tell my fortune.
MEG.――Yes, because I know your past.
BERT.――Indeed! Then you have read a perplexed page.
MEG.――It will be clearer soon.
BERT.――Never less likely.
MEG.――Never more so! If, with a simple spell, I cannot recall times
which you have long forgotten, hold me the most miserable impostor.
Hear me, hear me, Henry――Henry Bertram! Hark! hark to the sound of
other days! Listen, and let your heart awake. (_Sings. Air, Gypsy
Girl._)
Oh! hark ye, young Henry,
Thy sire is a knight,
Thy mother a lady,
So lovely and bright;
The hills and the dales,
From the towers which we see,
They all shall belong,
My dear Henry, to thee.
Oh! rest thee, babe; rest thee, babe;
Sleep on till day.
Oh! rest thee, babe; rest thee, babe;
Sleep while thee may.
BERT.――These words do, indeed, thrill my bosom with strange emotions.
Woman, speak more plainly, and tell me why those sounds thus agitate
my inmost soul, and what ideas they are that thus darkly throng upon
my mind at hearing them.
MEG.――
Listen youth, to words of power;
Swiftly comes the rightful hour!
They who did thee scathe and wrong,
Shall pay their deeds by death ere long.
The dark shall be light, and the wrong made right,
And Bertram’s right, and Bertram’s might,
Shall meet on Ellangowan’s height!
BERT.――Bertram! Bertram! Why does that name sound so familiar to me?
MEG.――And now, begone! Franco, Franco, guide these strangers on their
way to Kippletringan; Kippletringan! Yet stay; let me see your hand.
What say these lines of fortunes past? Wandering, and woe, and danger,
and crosses in love and friendship! What of the future? Honor, wealth,
prosperity, love rewarded and friendship reunited! But what of the
present? Ay! there’s a trace, which speaks of danger, of captivity,
perchance; but not of death! If you are attacked, be men, and let your
hands defend your heads! I will not be far distant from you in the
moment of need. And now begone! Fate calls you! Away, away, away!
(_Exit._)
ACT III.
SCENE I. _Sea-shore, with the castle on the rocks._
MEG.――So, so; his death is purposed; and they have chosen the scene of
one murder to commit another. Right! the blood spilt on that spot has
long cried for vengeance, and it shall fall upon them. Sebastian,
speed to Dinmont and the youth; tell them not to separate for their
lives――guide them to the glen near the tower; there let them wait till
Glossin and Hatteraick meet in the cavern, and I will join them. Away,
and do my bidding! (_Exit Sebastian._) Now to send to Mannering; I
must remain on the watch myself――Gabriel I dare not trust. Ha! who
comes now? ’Tis Abel Sampson, Henry Bertram’s ancient tutor! It shall
be so. (_Advance._) Stop! I command ye!
LUCY.――She’s mad!
MEG.――No; I am not mad! I’ve been imprisoned for mad, scourged for
mad, banished for mad; but mad I am not! Halt, and stand fast, or ye
shall rue the day while a limb of you hangs together! Stay, thou
tremblest! (_Take out an old black whiskey bottle and hold it out to
Sampson, left._) Drink of this and put some heart in ye, or I will――
Can your learning tell you what that is, eh? Will you remember my
errand now? Ay! then tell Colonel Mannering, if ever he owed a debt to
the house of Ellangowan, and hopes to see it prosper, he must come
instantly, armed and well attended, to the glen, below the tower of
Derncleugh, and fail not on his life! You know the spot! Ay, Abel
Sampson, there blazed my hearth for many a day! and there, beneath the
willow that hung its garlands over the brook, I’ve sat and sung to
Harry Bertram, songs of the old time. That tree is wither’d now, never
to be green again, and old Meg Merrilies will never, never sing blythe
songs more. But I charge you, Abel Sampson, when the heir shall have
his own――as soon as he shall――that you tell him not to forget Meg
Merrilies, but to build up the old walls in the glen for her sake, and
let those that live there be too good to fear the beings of another
world, for, if ever the dead come back among the living, I will be
seen in that glen many a night after these crazed old bones are
whitened in the mouldering grave! ha! ha! (_Laugh and stagger back._)
I have said it, old man! ye shall see him again, and the best lord he
shall be that Ellangowan has seen these hundred years. But you’re o’er
long here. To Mannering! Away! and bid him come to that spot
instantly, or the heir of Ellangowan may perish forever! Away, away!
(_Exit while speaking the last two words._)
――_Sir Walter Scott._
The Dukite Snake.
Well, mate, you’ve asked me about a fellow
You met to-day in a black and yellow
Chain-gang suit, with a peddler’s pack,
Or with some such burden strapped to his back.
Did you meet him square? No, passed you by?[1210]
Well, if you had, and had looked in his eye,
You’d have felt for your irons then and there;
For the light of his eye is a madman’s glare.
Some eight years back, in the spring of the year,
He came from Scotland and settled here.[1211]
A splendid young fellow he was just then,
And one of the bravest and truest of men.
In a year his wife came, and he showed her round
His sandal-wood and his crops in the ground,
And spoke of the future; they cried for joy,
The husband’s arm clasping his wife and boy.
Well, friend, if a little of heaven’s best bliss
Ever comes from the upper world[1212] to this,
It came into that manly bushman’s life,
And circled him round with the arms of his wife.
God bless that bright memory! Even to me,
A rough, lonely man, did she seem to be,
While living, an angel[1213] of God’s pure love,
And now I could pray to her face above.
And David――he loved her as only a man
With a heart as large as was his heart, can.
I wondered how they could have lived apart,
For he was her idol, and she was his heart.
Friends, there isn’t much more of the tale to tell;
I was talking of angels awhile since. Well,
Now I’ll change to a devil――ay, to a devil![1214]
You needn’t start; if a spirit of evil
Ever came to this world its hate to slake
On mankind, it came as a dukite snake,
Now, mark[1215] you, these dukites don’t go alone;
There’s another near when you see but one;
And beware you of killing that one you see
Without finding the other; for you may be
More than twenty miles from the spot that night,
When camped, but you’re tracked by the lone dukite,
That will follow[1216] your trail like death or fate,
And kill you as sure as you killed its mate.
Well, poor Dave Sloane had his young wife here
Three months; ’twas just this time of the year.
He had teamed some sandal-wood to the Vasse,
And was homeward bound when he saw on the grass[1217]
A long red snake.[1218] He had never been told
Of the dukite’s ways; he jumped to the road,
And smashed[1219] its flat head with the bullock goad.
He was proud of the red skin, so he tied
Its tail to the cart, and the snake’s blood dyed
The bush on the path he followed that night.
He was early home, and the dead dukite
Was flung at the door to be skinned next day.
At sunrise next morning he started away
To hunt up his cattle. A three hours’ ride
Brought him back; he gazed on his home with pride
And joy in his heart; he jumped from his horse
And entered――to look on[1220] his young wife’s corse,
And his dead child clutching its mother’s clothes
As in fright; and there, as he gazed, arose,
From her breast, where ’twas resting, the gleaming head
Of the terrible dukite, as if it said,
“I’ve had vengeance, my foe! you took all I had!”
And so had the snake: David Sloane was mad!
I rode to his hut just by chance that night,
And there[1221] on the threshold the clear moonlight
Showed the two snakes dead. I pushed in[1222] the door;
The dead were stretched[1223] on the moonlit floor;
The man held the hand of his wife, his pride,
His poor life’s treasure, and crouched[1224] by her side.
I touched and called him; he heeded me not;
So I dug her grave in a quiet spot,
And lifted them both, her boy on her breast,
And laid them down in the shade to rest.
Then I tried to take my poor friend away,
But he cried so woefully, “Let me stay[1225]
Till she comes again!” that I had no heart
To try to persuade him then to part
From all that was left to him here――her grave;
So I stayed by his side that night, and save
One heart-cutting cry, he uttered no sound――
O God! that wail――like the wail of a hound!
’Tis six long years since I heard that cry,
But ’twill ring in my ears till the day I die.
Since that fearful night no one has heard
Poor David Sloane utter sound or word.
You have seen to-day how he always goes;[1226]
He’s been given that suit of convict’s clothes
By some prison officer. On his back
You noticed a load like a peddler’s pack?
Well, that’s what[1227] he lives for; when reason went,
Still memory lived, for his days are spent
In searching for dukites; year by year
That bundle of skins is growing. ’Tis clear
That the Lord out of evil some good still takes;
For he’s clearing[1228] this bush of the dukite snakes.
――_J. Boyle O’Reilly._
GESTURES.
[1210] H. Sw.
[1211] H. O.
[1212] A. O.
[1213] Look up.
[1214] Ind. D. O.
[1215] Ind. H. F.
[1216] P. D. F. Sw.
[1217] D. F.
[1218] Trace with finger.
[1219] Sp.
[1220] P. D. F.
[1221] D. F.
[1222] V. H. F.
[1223] P. D. Sw.
[1224] P. D. F.
[1225] Clasp hands.
[1226] H. Sw.
[1227] H. O.
[1228] V. H. Sw.
Mad.
This piece won the Post-Graduate medal at the Ninth Annual
Commencement of the Mt. Vernon Institute of Elocution and Languages,
1892.
’Twas many years since I had left my home
To travel distant lands, but time sped on;[1229]
Again with eagerness and wonderment
I sought the cherish’d haunts[1230] and friends of yore.
One man whom I remember’d as a boy,
Whose piercing eyes, pale face, and silken locks
Had oft comment attracted, now I found
In mad-house pent. He recognized my face,
Although he would anon bewilder’d gaze.
In changing tones which shed a ling’ring light[1231]
Awhile upon his soul, but swiftly turn’d
To fierce embitter’d grief, he told me there
His all-absorbing tale. ’Twas thus he spoke:
“They call me mad. And hour by hour I’m watch’d
By lurking keepers, who with looks askance,[1232]
Would search my thoughts, and deem themselves unseen,
For when I would return their gaze, they droop
Their eyes, and with a heedless air pass by.[1233]
They call me mad, and so deny[1234] my right
To liberty enjoy’d by other men.
They call me mad! but know they[1235] what they mean?
“Yea, if vividly to recall the past,
And linger with emotions deep and fond
On all that yielded life a moment’s joy,
And now lies garner’d in sweet Mem’ry’s store――
If this[1236] betokens madness――I am mad.
Or if to know with what dear promise youth
Was robed――how cherish’d were the constant thoughts
Of happiness to come in future years――
And feel how treach’rous was the fate that crush’d[1237]
Those thoughts and bade me dare to seek revenge[1238]――
If this may madness prove, then I am mad.
And this is why,[1239] forsooth, they deem me so!
“Even now the recollection of the past,
In varied visions, float[1240] before mine eyes,
And thoughts of old afflictions make me feel
How blest[1241] I might have been――how sad I am![1242]
“A group of children trotting[1243] off to school,
While two[1244] amongst the rest, a boy and girl,
Go hand in hand, and prattle as they go,
Then fondly kiss and part, till, school-time o’er,
They meet and kiss again, and hand in hand
Return to home,[1245] recounting all they’ve learnt.
Anon they paddle in the rippling brook,[1246]
Their merry voices striving to out-do
The babble of the water ’neath their feet;
Or, roaming in the fields,[1247] they mimic birds[1248]
That seem to sing a sweet accomp’niment
To happy childhood passing thus away.
“The glad years speed[1249] along. Those children twain
Have ripen’d ’neath the influence of time,
For life has but reveal’d its summer days
To him[1250] of impulse strong and keen-sensed soul――
To her[1251] of beauteous face and loving heart,
And each is happy in the other’s love.
“And this glad pair in childhood and in youth
Was Cousin Ruth and I. Oh! it was joy
To loiter arm in arm on summer eves
By hedge-rows,[1252] or through fields[1253] of long-grown grass
Where breath’d sweet-scented breezes all around,[1254]
And birds sang anthems to the dying day;
Or wonder where the murm’ring river ran,[1255]
While tales of love gave birth to cheerful smiles.
And just as pleasant in the winter-tide
To tread the hard, crisp roads; and watch the stars,
That look’d like angel-lovers gladd’ning Earth,
While we humm’d homely airs, and never dreamt
That aught but death could e’er divide our hearts.
“Ah! Death assumed most unsuspected guise――
The guise of one whom I deemed friend, alas!
And whom I’d make my confidant of hopes
To be fulfill’d in future happy days.
You know[1256] the rest. My friend became my foe,
And won the heart of her I loved, though that
I might have brook’d in silence and in pain,
But he a villain[1257] proved, and mock’d[1258] her tears.
I learnt the truth; then sought,[1259] and found him, too,
Though not alone, as my heart wish’d. Arose
Within my breast[1260] the promptings of wild hate,
And, like a furied fiend, with fierce intent
I grasp’d[1261] his throat and dash’d[1262] him to the ground,
And would have slain[1263] him there had those around
Not dragg’d my tight’ning fingers from his flesh.
“Thus foil’d, a sudden impulse seized my soul,
And hate[1264] intense begat intenser love.[1265]
From those who held me I sprang forth,[1266] then rush’d
To find my Ruth and clasp[1267] her to my breast;
I yearn’d, at least, to heal her sorrow’d heart,
Forget her wrong, and love her as of old.
But when I found her, my poor girl was dead;
There[1268] on the cruel river’s bank she lay,
The water dripping[1269] from her golden hair――
Those golden ringlets I had fondled oft!
I clasp’d her hand[1270] and gazed into her eyes,
Whose steadfast stare seemed now to pierce me through,
And placed my lips against her clay-cold cheek
Till presently they bore her[1271] from my sight.
“Night came; the wand’ring wind was wailing wild,
And dreary rains were lashing[1272] all the land;
I felt them not, I only felt the fire
That raged within my soul,[1273] and wander’d on[1274]
With pale and haggard features, glaring, blood-shot eyes,
Dishevell’d hair, clench’d fists,[1275] and boiling blood!
Amid the chaos of my brain[1276] one thought
Usurp’d despotic sway, and led me on
And on, with purpose fix’d and fierce――to kill,[1277]
To murder[1278] him who slew my only love!
“Ere long I found the thing I sought――alone!
I heard[1279] the sound of voices, heard them say
‘Good-night,’ ‘Good-night.’ One voice I knew; ’twas his!
I cowered low,[1280] till, with quick step, he pass’d,
Then, silent as a tiger, follow’d[1281] swift.
When he had gain’d the meadow he must cross,
I quicken’d pace, and saw him speed before――[1282]
‘Hillo, hillo!’ I cried; he stood to hear,
And ere a moment pass’d I reach’d his side.
There was a look of terror in his face,
And seeing me he scream’d, and would have fled,
But, with a grasp of steel, I clutch’d[1283] his throat,
And, though he craved for mercy, strangled him,
And crush’d[1284] the reptile’s form beneath my foot,
Then left him[1285] lying on the meadow path,
And onward[1286] swiftly sped――I know not where,
Until, o’ercome by agony of heart,
Upon the grass[1287] in dark despair I fell!
My throat[1288] was parch’d, a mist[1289] came o’er my eyes,
My head was rack’d, the blood forsook my veins,
And coldness, by degrees, my senses numb’d.[1290]
“When I awoke as ’twere from a long dream
Of agonizing thought, I was confined
Within these walls,[1291] and knew they call’d me mad.”
GESTURES.
[1229] H. Sw.
[1230] H. F.
[1231] P. H. F.
[1232] Eyes Sp.
[1233] H. Sw.
[1234] D. L.
[1235] H. O.
[1236] H. F.
[1237] P. D. O.
[1238] Cli. raised.
[1239] H. O.
[1240] V. H. Sw.
[1241] B. H. O.
[1242] Drop hands hopelessly.
[1243] H. Sw.
[1244] Ind. H. O.
[1245] Left H. Sw.
[1246] D. F.
[1247] H. Sw.
[1248] Look up.
[1249] H. Sw.
[1250] H. O.
[1251] Left H. O.
[1252] H. O.
[1253] Imp.
[1254] B. H. O.
[1255] H. Sw.
[1256] H. F.
[1257] Cli. D.
[1258] P. Ind. H. O.
[1259] H. F.
[1260] To breast.
[1261] - [1262] B. Sp.
[1263] Ind. D. F.
[1264] B. Cli. D.
[1265] B. H. O.
[1266] H. F.
[1267] B. Sp.
[1268] D. F.
[1269] Turn to P.
[1270] Sp.
[1271] Left H. Sw.
[1272] B. P. H. O.
[1273] To breast.
[1274] H. Sw.
[1275] B. Cli.
[1276] To head.
[1277] Ind. H. O.
[1278] Cli. D. O.
[1279] Lis. to left.
[1280] Bend body.
[1281] H. Sw.
[1282] H. F.
[1283] B. Sp.
[1284] B. P. D. F.
[1285] D. O.
[1286] H. F.
[1287] P. D. F.
[1288] To throat.
[1289] To eyes.
[1290] P. D. O.
[1291] B. H. O.
[Illustration: “And having wound their loathsome track to the top
Of this huge, mouldering monument of Rome,
Hang hissing at the nobler man below.”]
A Woman’s Vengeance.