University of Virginia Library

Scene 2.

—Washington and his wife: letters are brought in by Bishop, who gives him some, and one to Martha Washington.
Martha Washington.
Another of those wicked letters George,
From some anonymous slanderer; it says—

Washington.
Nay,—good wife, wise wife—heed not what it says;
Tear it up; if I neither see it nor hear it,
Calumny, like the scorpion when self-stung,
Perishes harmlessly: I will not read it.

Martha Washington.
But our dear Patrick Henry sends it here
That you with him may guess or know the writer;
He fancies him a certain famous Doctor.

Washington.
Nonsense; I'll have no fancies.

Martha Washington.
But he adds,
It is important, for a duplicate
Was laid before the Congress, and it said—

Washington.
I care not, Martha, what it said; if Congress
Is capable of listening secretly
To taunts against me, I will answer it
On charges openly brought.

Martha Washington.
Yet, Patrick Henry,
That friend and brother who is half thy soul,
Asks me to read you this: “The nation needs
“A Joshua, not our loitering Fabius,
“A Conway, Mifflin, Gates, a North, a Lee,
“And not this vacillating Washington:
“Under so weak a leader we must perish,
“Having no chance for victory but in change.”
Dear Patrick haply lets you know of this,
Suggesting stronger efforts; for he adds,—
Our friend knows well how wise it is to learn
Even from foes: I spoke up stoutly for him,
Urging, and truly, that if he was weak,
It was in men, in stores, in sinews of war,
Not in the muscle of his own strong soul;
If he was lingering to assure great ends
It was for Congress to ensure full means,—

Washington.
He spoke but truth; there seldom is a slander
But in some particle was justified.
Factions and parsimony tie me down,
Forcing me to delays against my will.
Enough: let history, and my country's love,
In spite of whisperers and conspirators,
Vindicate Washington to after ages.
Let me hear nothing more of this, dear love.

(Enter Bishop.)
Bishop.
Please you, my master, there's a young man here,
Timothy Brown, of Boston, asks to see you.

Washington.
He may come in.
Enter Timothy.
Your errand: to the point.

Timothy.
General, I want a little word in private.

Washington.
Speak it; we are alone: only my wife.

Timothy.
I ran down straight from Westpoint over there
To tell your honour what a friend of mine,
Miss Arnold's waiting-maid, has overheard
Her master saying—

Washington.
And you dared to come
With eavesdroppings to me from a false servant?

Martha Washington.
Yet, hear him, George: speak out, young man, what is it?

Timothy.
She said, she thought her master was unsafe,—

Washington.
You say, she thought; you said, she overheard.

Timothy.
She well might think of what she overheard.

Washington.
I cannot listen to a treacherous tale:
Go: and be silent.

Martha Washington.
Tell me what it was.

Timothy.
She heard him talking of some money-bribe,
And swearing at his wrongs, and threatening vengeance
Against America and Washington.

Washington.
I'll not believe it! Arnold? General Arnold?
Our staunchest patriot since the war began,
The hero of a hundred well-fought fields,—
Incredible—impossible. Young man,
You hope to be rewarded for this tale:
Leave me; without one word: and take with you
My stern rebuke for having dared to breathe
Slander against a noble name.
(Exit Timothy.)
Dear wife,
To prove full confidence, I call with you
On Governor Arnold at Westpoint to-pay.
Bishop,—the saddlehorses in an hour.

(Exeunt.)