_Enter the JAILOR, driving JERRY before him._
JAILOR. In, in, you mutinous dog! do you come here to breed a riot in
our camp?
JERRY. Now, my dear good-natured jailor, only have pity on me, and I'll
tell you all about it.
JAILOR. I won't hear you--didn't you breed a riot?
JERRY. Why no, it was not me. I am as innocent as a young lamb. I'll
tell you how it was--come, sit down on this bench with me. [_They sit._]
You must know that I'm a farmer, pretty well off, as a body mout say,
and I wanted a wife; hard by our village, there lived an old soger with
a pretty daughter, so I courted the old man for his daughter, and he
consented to the match.
JAILOR. Well?
JERRY. And so I got together all my neighbours, and, with music, went to
the old soger's to get my sweetheart, when, lo and behold! after all my
trouble, she refused me plump.
JAILOR. No, did she?
JERRY. Ay, indeed; she didn't seem stricken with the proposal--and for
fear her father would force her to marry me, egad, she run away.
JAILOR. And where did she go?
JERRY. I can't say, but her father and a whole _posse comitatus_, as we
justices call 'em, went in search of her to the camp, and when I came
here, I found some of my old comrades who fought with me at Queenstown;
and so having a little money, we went to take a comfortable pitcher of
whiskey punch together, and so, while over our cups, they doubted my
valour, and hinted that I run away before the battle.
JAILOR. Well, and what did you do?
JERRY. Why, I offered to fight 'em single-handed all round, and we got
into a dispute, and so when my money was all gone, they tweaked my nose,
boxed my ears, and kick'd me out of the tent. So I then kick'd up a row,
and--that's all.
JAILOR. A very pretty story, indeed! You look like a mutinous dog--so
come, get into the black hole.
JERRY. Now, my dear jailor, do let me escape, and I'll give you the
prettiest little pig in my farmyard.
JAILOR. What! bribe an honest and humane jailor, and with a pig? In with
you.
JERRY. Well, but I've nothing to eat--I shall be half starved.
JAILOR. Oh no, you shall have something to employ your grinders on.
[_Goes out, and returns with a black loaf, and a pitcher of water._]
There!
JERRY. O dear, nothing else but black bread and cold water? Can't you
get me a pickle?
JAILOR. I think you're in a devil of a pickle already--come, get in!
[_Removes a board from the scene, which discovers a small dark hole.
JERRY supplicates._]
JERRY. How long am I to be here, Mr. Jailor, in company with myself?
JAILOR. That depends on your good behaviour. [_Cannon are heard._]
There! the battle has commenced.
JERRY. [_Putting his head out of the hole._] O dear, what's that? The
great guns are going off. Are you sure, my dear jailor, that this prison
is bomb proof?
JAILOR. Take your head in, you great land turtle.
JERRY. Oh, what will become of me?
_End of the Second Act._
ACT III.
_Scene in front of a pavilion tent; trumpets and drums sounding._
_Enter GENERAL, LENOX, SOLDIERS, OFFICERS, &c._
GENERAL. At length victory has crown'd our arms, and the result of this
action will keep alive the spirits of our troops, and the hopes of our
country. Hark! the bugles are sounding a retreat, and the enemy has
abandoned the field and taken to his entrenchments. Lenox, your
hand--your conduct this day has confirmed our hopes--allow me in the
name of our country to thank you.
LENOX. Not a word, dear general, not a word; I have merely done my duty,
and done no more than every soldier in our ranks.
GENERAL. What is the result of this day's action?
LENOX. The enemy has lost upwards of 500 in killed and wounded, and
several principal officers have been taken prisoners.
GENERAL. In what position were they when the attack became general?
LENOX. The British commander, pressed by our artillery under Towson,
issued in all his force from his entrenchments. It was a gallant sight,
to see his solid columns and burnished arms advance on the margin of the
river, and his cavalry, with lightning's force, dart on our flanks to
turn and throw them into confusion: but they were met by the volunteers
under the brave Porter, and gallantly repulsed.
GENERAL. Go on.
LENOX. The enemy then condensed his forces and crossed the bridge, and
was encountered on the plains of Chippewa by Scott, with his brigade,
when the action became severe and general. No ambuscade or masked
batteries were held in reserve--the enemy was not a moment concealed
from our view--no tangled thicket or umbrageous groves gave effect or
facility to our rifles: the battle was fought on a plain--where man
grappled man, force was opposed to force, skill to skill, and eye to
eye, in regular, disciplined, and admirable order.
GENERAL. How near were you to the British general?
LENOX. In sight and hearing. Charge the Yankees! said a hoarse voice
which I knew to be his. Charge away! said our ardent troops, as they
advanced with fixed bayonets; the fire became dreadful, and our stars
and stripes were seen waving in the blaze. Scott rode through the lines
cheering the men, and gallantly leading them on; Jessup and his third
battalion turned the right flank of the enemy after a dreadful conflict;
Ketchum had kept up a cross and ruinous fire; and Towson, from his dread
artillery, scattered grape like hail amongst them. On, on! cried
Leavenworth, the day's our own, my boys! Just then a shot struck down my
comrade, Harrison, and shattered his leg.
GENERAL. Well?
LENOX. He grasped his sword and fought on his stump, clinging to the
spot like fire-eyed Mars; the enemy, pressed on all sides, gave way; our
troops pursued, and the flight became general. At length we drove them
to their entrenchments, and remained masters of the field. Our trumpets
sounded their retreat; victory perched on our eagles, and our bands
struck up the soul-inspiring air of "Hail, Columbia, happy land!"
GENERAL. Well done, my brave fellows! This action will teach the enemy
to respect that valour which they cannot subdue. See that the wounded
prisoners are taken care of: give them all succor: victory loses half
its value, when it is not tempered with mercy.
[_Exit GENERAL._
LENOX. Now to my dear Christine, to receive from her the reward which I
hope I have fairly earned, and seek with her the joys of tranquillity
and love.
_Enter a SOLDIER._
SOLDIER. Towards the conclusion of the battle we made two Indian
warriors prisoners, who were fighting desperately; we have them with us.
LENOX. Bring them in; I will examine them, touching the number and force
of their tribe. [_Exit SOLDIER, who returns with PENDRAGON and LAROLE,
with a file of men; both are painted and dressed as Indians; PENDRAGON
preserves his opera-glass, and LAROLE his snuff-box._]
PENDRAGON. What are we brought here for, fellow?
LENOX. Warriors, the fate of battle has placed you in our power; yet
fear nothing, we shall treat you like men and soldiers. Deeply do we
regret to see you take up arms against us, instigated by foreign
influence, and bribed by foreign gold. How numerous is your tribe?
PENDRAGON. Why what the devil, sir, do you take us for Choctaws? Can't
you tell a man of fashion in masquerade?
LENOX. Who and what are you?
PENDRAGON. I am the honourable Captain Pendragon, of his Majesty's
Coldstream guards.
LENOX. The _honourable_ Captain Pendragon, and taken prisoner fighting
in the ranks with Indians, and in disguise? A man of rank and fashion,
and a soldier, changing his complexion, his nature and his
character--herding with savages--infuriating their horrid passions, and
whetting their knives and tomahawks against their defenceless prisoners?
Impossible! And who are you, sir? [_To LAROLE._
LAROLE. [_Taking snuff._] Begar, sair, I am von man of fashion aussi, I
am valet de sham to capitain Pendragoon; ve are in de masquerade, sair.
PENDRAGON. It's very true, sir, 'pon honour--we are in masquerade,
though you look as if you doubt it. War, sir, is a kind of a--a singular
science, and if you are to be knock'd on the head, 'tis of very little
consequence whether your nose is tipped with blue or red, damme. I am in
your power, sir, and a man of fashion, 'pon honour.
LENOX. Well, sir, if your example is to govern men of honour or men of
fashion, I hope I am ignorant of the attributes of the one, or the
eccentricities of the other. However, mercy to prisoners, even when they
have forfeited mercy, may teach your nation lessons of toleration and
humanity. Your life is safe, sir.
PENDRAGON. Sir, you speak very like a gentleman, and I shall be happy to
taste Burgundy with you at the Horse Guards.
LENOX. I thank you, sir.
LAROLE. Par example, dis Yankee Doodel is von very pretti spoken jeune
gentiman, I will give him de encouragement. Sair, I vill be ver happy to
serve you en my contree, to take un tasse de caffee at de Palais Royale
en Paris wid you, to dress your hair, or pull your corset tight.
_Enter GENERAL, ADELA and OFFICER._
GENERAL. Who have we here?
LENOX. Prisoners, sir, and in disguise.
ADELA. As I live, an Indian dandy!
PENDRAGON. A lady? [_With an air of fashion._] Ma'am, your most devoted
slave--inexpressibly happy to find a beautiful creature in this damn'd
wilderness. You see, ma'am, I am a kind of a prisoner, but always at
home, always at my ease, _a-la-mode_ St. James--extremely rejoiced to
have the honour of your acquaintance. A fine girl, LaRole, split me!
LAROLE. Oh, oui, she is very fine, I like her ver mush.
ADELA. Pray, sir, may I ask how came you to fancy that disguise?
PENDRAGON. Oh, it's not my fancy, 'pon honour, though I am one of the
fancy; a mere _russe de guerre_. We on the other side of the water, have
a kind of floating idea that you North Americans are half savages, and
we must fight you after your own fashion.
ADELA. And have you discovered that any difference exists in the last
affair in which you have been engaged?
PENDRAGON. Why, 'pon my soul, ma'am, this Yankee kind of warfare is
inexpressibly inelegant, without flattery--no order--no military
arrangement--no _deploying_ in solid columns--but a kind of
helter-skelter warfare, like a reel or a country-dance at a village inn,
while the house is on fire.
ADELA. Indeed?
PENDRAGON. All true, I assure you. Why, do you know, ma'am, that one of
your common soldiers was amusing himself with shooting at me for several
minutes, although he saw from my air, and my dodging, that I was a man
of fashion? Monstrous assurance! wasn't it?
ADELA. Why ay, it was rather impertinent for a common soldier to attempt
to bring down a man of fashion.
LAROLE. Oui--it is dam impertinent, mai par example, de littel bullet of
von common soldat, he sometime kill von great general.
PENDRAGON. Pray, ma'am, will you permit me to ask, when you arrived from
England, and what family has the honour to boast of so beautiful a
representative?
ADELA. Sir, I am not of England, I stand on my native soil.
PENDRAGON. Oh.
ADELA. And much as I esteem English women for their many amiable
qualities, I hope that worth and virtue are not wholly centered in that
country.
PENDRAGON. Why, 'pon my soul, ma'am, though it is not fashionable this
year to be prejudiced, yet were I to admit that I saw any beauty or
elegance in America, my Bond-Street friends would cut me--split me!
ADELA. I cannot admire their candour. Merit is the exclusive property of
no country, and to form a just estimate of our own advantages, we should
be ever prepared to admit the advantages possessed by others.
_Enter a SOLDIER._
SOLDIER. We have surprised and made captive the celebrated Indian chief,
who fought so desperately against us.
GENERAL. Bring him before us. [_Exit SOLDIER._] He has long been the
terror of the neighbourhood, and the crafty foe of our country.
_Enter SOLDIERS with the INDIAN CHIEF._
INDIAN. Who among you is the chief of these pale-faced enemies of our
race?
GENERAL. I am he.
INDIAN. 'Tis well, sir; behold in me your captive, who has fallen into
your power after a resistance becoming a warrior. I am ready to meet
that death which I know awaits me.
GENERAL. Chief, your fears are groundless; we intend you no harm, but by
our example, teach you the blessings of valour and mercy united.
INDIAN. Wherefore show me mercy? I ask it not of you.--Think you that I
cannot bear the flames? that a warrior shrinks from the uplifted
tomahawk? Try me--try how a great soul can smile on death. Or do you
hope that I will meanly beg a life, which fate and evil fortune has
thrown into your hands?
GENERAL. We ask no concessions of you, warrior; we wish to see you
sensible of the delusions into which foreign nations have plunged you.
We wish to see you our friend.
INDIAN. Your friend? Call back the times which we passed in liberty and
happiness, when in the tranquil enjoyment of unrestrained freedom we
roved through our forests, and only knew the bears as our enemy; call
back our council fires, our fathers and pious priests; call back our
brothers, wives and children, which cruel white men have
destroyed.--Your friend? You came with the silver smile of peace, and we
received you into our cabins; we hunted for you, toiled for you; our
wives and daughters cherished and protected you; but when your numbers
increased, you rose like wolves upon us, fired our dwellings, drove off
our cattle, sent us in tribes to the wilderness, to seek for shelter;
and now you ask me, while naked and a prisoner, to be your friend!
GENERAL. We have not done this, deluded man; your pretended advocates,
over the great waters, have told you this tale.
INDIAN. Alas! it is a true one; I feel it here; 'tis no fiction: I was
the chief of a great and daring tribe, which smiled on death with
indifference and contempt; my cabin was the seat of hospitality and of
love; I was first in council, and first in the field; my prosperity
increased, my prospects brightened; but the white man came, and all was
blasted.
GENERAL. What has been done, was the result of war.
INDIAN. Wherefore wage war against us? Was not your territory
sufficiently ample, but did you sigh for our possessions? Were you not
satisfied with taking our land from us, but would you hunt the lords of
the soil into the den of the otter? Why drive to desperation a free and
liberal people? Think you I would be your enemy unless urged by powerful
wrongs? No, white man, no! the Great Spirit whom we worship, is also the
God whom you adore; for friends we cheerfully lay down our lives; but
against foes, our lives are staked with desperation. Had I taken you
prisoner, death should have been your portion; death in cruel torments.
Then why spare me? why spare the man whose knife was whetted against
your life?
GENERAL. To show, by contrast, the difference of our principles. You
would strike down the captive who implores your protection: we tender
life and liberty to the prisoner, who asks himself for death.
INDIAN. Is this your vengeance?
GENERAL. It is. The Great Spirit delights in mercy. Be thou our friend,
warrior; bury thy tomahawk deep in earth; let not jealous foreigners
excite thy vengeance against us; but living as we do in one territory,
let us smoke the calumet of peace, you and all your tribe, and let
concord hereafter reign amongst us.--Be this the token.
[_Gives a belt of wampum._
INDIAN. Brother, I accept the token; forgive my rage, and pardon my
unjust anger. Protect our warriors and wives; guard their wigwams from
destruction; soften their prejudices and remove their jealousies. Do
this, and the red man is your friend. I have urged you far to end my
life: you have tempered your passions with mercy, and we are no longer
foes. Farewell!
[_Exit._
LAROLE Parbleu, dis general is like von great Roman. I vill speak von
vord pour myself, I vill make de speech like de sauvage.
GENERAL. [_To LAROLE._] And you, sir, it appears, are in disguise,
unlike a civilized soldier; you have been taken in the ranks with
Indians.
LAROLE. Sair, mon general, you sall here vat I am goin to say. I am von
Frenchiman; in my contree every Frenchiman he is von soldat.
GENERAL. Well?
LAROLE. Begar, sair, I must fight vid somebody, because it is my
bisness. In de Egypt I did fight 'gainst de Turc; in Europe I did fight
de whole vorld vis de Grand Napoleon, and in Amerique I did fight
against you vid myself. Mais, you take a me de prisonier, I can fight no
more; I vill trow myself on de protection of dis contree; I vill no more
fight contree de Yankee Doodel; I vill stay here and eat de ros beef vid
you, and mon capitain la, he may go to de devil.
GENERAL. Admirably concluded. And you, sir, what can we do to lighten
your captivity?
PENDRAGON. Why sir, if war was not my profession, I'd sell out; but it's
always my maxim to obey orders, whatever they may be: therefore, shall
be happy to have a brush with you in war, and equally happy to crack a
bottle of Burgundy with you in peace; a flash in the pan in one way, or
a puff from a segar in another; a bullet under the ribs in battle, or a
country dance in a ball-room; all's one to me, if it's only fashionably
conducted.
GENERAL. Well, let's into my tent and partake of some refreshment. We
may not always meet as enemies.
PENDRAGON. [_To ADELA._] Allow me the felicity of your little finger.
[_Aside._] She's struck with my figure, split me! LaRole, take notice.
LAROLE. Oh, you are de littel devil among de ladies.
[_Exeunt._
SCENE II. _A Prison._
_CHRISTINE seated on a bench; her appearance betrays grief and despair._
CHRISTINE. At length the weary night has passed away, and day dawns, but
brings no joy or comfort to my aching heart. Alas! alas! Christine,
where are all the bright visions thy fond fancy painted? where is that
content and love which gleamed through the casement of our cottage, when
my dear father smiled on his child, and entwined around her his
protecting arms: when the false Lenox, too, with honeyed lips, and tones
soft as zephyrs, vow'd eternal love? Let me not think of them, or I
shall go mad. Oh, what a contrast! pent up in a vile prison, and in
disguise! condemned to die, and perishing unknown and unprotected. On
the one side, my grave yawns for me; and on the other, a false lover,
and a cruel father, drive me to despair. My brain is on fire! [_Hurries
about with rapid strides. Music loud and violent._] Ha! what is this?
[_Tears the miniature from around her neck._] Lenox, these are thy
features! thy mild looks beam hope and joy upon me. [_Kisses it._] Could
such a face be false? Away with it! even now he weds another. [_Throws
the miniature indignantly from her._] So, 'tis gone, and I am left alone
in darkness and despair. [_She stands transfixed with grief--muffled
drum rolls--she starts._] Ha! they come for me! Be firm, my heart!
_Enter an OFFICER and a file of SOLDIERS._
OFFICER. Young man, your hour has arrived; the detachment waits without
to receive you.
CHRISTINE. [_Faintly._] I am ready.
OFFICER. Can I serve you in any manner? Is there no letter--no
remembrance that you would wish sent to father or friend?
CHRISTINE. Oh, forbear!
SOLDIER. [_Picking up the miniature._] See, sir, here is a miniature.
OFFICER. [_Examining it._] By Heavens, they are the features of Captain
Lenox! How came you by this? What! a thief too? 'Tis well your career is
cut short.
CHRISTINE. Oh no, no! Give it me, I implore you; 'tis mine.
OFFICER. I shall restore it to the rightful owner. Come, we wait.
CHRISTINE. Lead on. A few fleeting moments, and all my troubles will be
at an end.
[_Exeunt._
SCENE III. _Before the Tent._
_Enter GENERAL, SOLDIERS, &c., with papers._
GENERAL. He has not confessed who set him on?
OFFICER. He has not, but admits the crime.
GENERAL. [_Returning papers._] 'Tis well--see him executed according to
the sentence. Hard and imperious duty, which, at once, shuts out hope
and mercy!
[_Exit GENERAL._
OFFICER. Now to seek for Lenox, and restore to him his miniature.
[_Exit._
SCENE IV. _The Camp, as in Act I, Scene III; the stage is thrown open,
drums roll, and the procession enters for the execution of CHRISTINE;
she is in the centre, between the two detachments; her coat is off, and
the stock unloosened from her neck--her step is firm, until she reaches
the tent of LENOX, when she clasps her hands and hangs down her head in
despair. Procession makes the circuit of the stage with slow steps, and
when opposite the tent she kneels; an OFFICER places the bandage over
her eyes, and gives a sign to a detachment of four to advance; they step
forward, and level their muskets at her; at the moment, LENOX rushes
from the tent with the miniature in his hand and strikes up their guns._
LENOX. Hold! for your lives! [_Rushes down to CHRISTINE, and tears the
bandage from her eyes._] 'Tis she! 'tis she! 'tis my own, my beloved
Christine!
[_Holds her in his arms; she faints._
2ND OFFICER. What means this?
LENOX. Stand off, ye cruel executioners, would you destroy a woman?
OFFICER. A woman? Heavens! how did this happen?
_Enter GENERAL, ADELA, LAROLE, SOLDIERS, &c._
LENOX. Support her, Adela, support my dear Christine!
[_ADELA assists._
CHRISTINE. [_Recovering._] Where am I? [_Sees LENOX and ADELA._] Hide
me, save me from that horrid sight!
LENOX. Do you not know me, dear Christine?
CHRISTINE. Traitor, begone! let me die at once! Is she not your bride?
LENOX. No, by Heavens, no! 'tis my early friend, my dear companion.
Could you doubt my love?
CHRISTINE. Not married? not your betrothed? O Lenox, are you then
faithful?
LENOX. Could Christine doubt my vows?
CHRISTINE. I see it all--I have been deceived. Pardon me, dear Lenox;
but driven to despair by your supposed perfidy, I enlisted, and rushed
on my fate--which in a moment (horrid thought!) would have terminated.
But you are true, and I am happy.
[_Embrace._
LAROLE. Parbleu! it is a littel voman vidout de petticoat. Suppose she
take a me von prisonier, O quell disgrace!
_Enter JASPER, JERRY and PEASANTS._
JASPER. Where is she? where is my daughter?
CHRISTINE. My father? I dare not look upon him.
JASPER. Come to my arms, dear wanderer. Could you leave your poor old
father thus? You've nearly broke my heart, Christine.
CHRISTINE. My sufferings have been equally severe; but do you pardon
your child?
JASPER. I do--I do! and further prove my love, by making you happy. Take
her, Lenox, she is yours; and never let father attempt to force his
child into a marriage which her heart abhors.
JERRY. Well, I vow, Miss Crissy, you look very pretty in pantaloons, and
make a fine soger; but after all, I'm glad to have escaped a wife who
wears the breeches before marriage--so I consent that you shall have the
infantry ossifer, because I can't help it; and so I'll marry Patty, the
weaver's daughter, though she can't crack a bottle nor bring down a
buck.
GENERAL. All things have terminated happily. Our arms have been
triumphant, and our gallant soldiers rewarded with the approbation of
their country. Love has intwined a wreath for your brows, Lenox, and
domestic peace and happiness await you; and when old age draws on apace,
may you remember the PLAINS OF CHIPPEWA, and feel towards Britain as
freemen should feel towards all the world: "_Enemies in war--in peace,
friends._"
_Finis._
End of Project Gutenberg's She Would Be a Soldier, by Mordecai Manuel Noah