University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

—A court house in Frankfort. Judge, Lawyers, Jury, Witnesses and Citizens waiting his trial.
Judge.
Conrad accused of murdering Alonzo!
Jury and witnesses are sworn—proceed!

Darby
speaks for plaintiff. With the writ in his hand.
May it please your honour!—I would speak in vain,
Did I not know this man achiev'd that death!
This man has killed a statesman, whom we loved;
And no one here can help but feel his loss.
Alonzo was that man!—you knew him well!
We once were boys—he had a noble heart.
He would not brook a wrong, to clothe disgrace.
I never knew that man achieve one wrong.
But he was prudent—honored—loved by all,—
And none said ought, to stain his sacred name!—
That he was killed by some unfriendly blow—
The weapon and the wound doth testify!
That he was murdered in the dead of night,
When none but God's all seeing eye could see!—
That he was killed by Conrad's iron hands,
Done on that very night he lodg'd in town—
Which moulds suspicion into modeled truth—
Is, also, sworn to, in this sacred writ!
There was, upon his bed, a kerchief found,
Impierced with such like blade, as made the wound!—
And more than all, there stands Alonzo's wife,
Clothed in dark widowhood, and weeds, that mourn!
She saw him with her eyes, and heard his curse—
Now, these are truths, when known, must make us feel!—
Yes, stir the recess'd fountains of our souls—
But mark! before I let one witness speak,
Should not this grand tribunal weep?
Should not our hearts gush out respective tears?—
Not only for that murderer's cruel fate,
But that, by your resolve, through conscience sworn,
His soul shall stand at that tribunal—heaven!—
By all that is humane and dear to man—
By all that justice and religion teach!—
By all on earth, and all in heaven above,
(With all the evidence I may adduce—)
This man should suffer unto lawful death!

Judge.
Then, call the witnesses and let them speak.

Angeline, wife of Alonzo, sworn.
Darby.
Then, Angeline! before this court and jury,
Relate the most you know of this man's guilt.

Ang.
I saw Alonzo fall, and heard his voice!

Con.
Is that the first bad thing you saw, that night?

Ang.
My husband!—then, I fell upon his breast!

[Weeps.
Darby.
Relate the most you know—whether or not,
You saw Alonzo fall by Conrad's hand?

Ang.
I saw that bloody rebel! heard his voice!

[Weeps.
Con.
At first, she said, the first thing that she saw,
Was poor Alonzo!—ah! where did he fall?

Ang.
He died in the adjoining room from mine.

Con.
You was not in the room then, where he fell?
How could you see him fall by Conrad's hand?

Ang.
I heard him, when he stabbed him to the heart!

Con.
May please your honour!—innocence can plead,
Without disguise, her own truth telling cause.
There is no truth in what this woman swears.
She saw me not—this needs no argument.
The handkerchief, which they suggest, as proof;
They, no doubt, found upon my bed—but mark!
As true as you are judge, they made the rent!
That handkerchief was sound, when I return'd;
And, as to blood, there may have been some blood;
But, from no mortal's heart on earth, but mine.
That, poor Alonzo fell by Conrad's hand,
That, all of us do mourn his sudden loss,—
That he was brave, and kind, and good to man!—
That, he was once a schoolboy, full of fun;
And, all such petty argument as this,
The phantom visions of a moon-struck brain!—
The sky born fancies of a traitor's soul!
Choked full of yellow dust, call'd money—gold!—
That I rose early—left my kerchief, 's true;
But not more true, than, that I always do it.
That, in the dead of night, Alonzo fell!
When some life-taking hand drove off his soul!
And left him mortal, in the shades of death!—
May all be true!—which I will not dispute;
But that these things were done by Conrad's hands,
I do deny—because they are not proven!—
There is no evidence beneath yon sun,
Whereby they can convict me of this crime—
No; they are dark in this, as, was that night,
On which, they say, this savage deed was done!
Tis but a breath of air, borne on the winds,
An echo,—lost among resistless clouds.

Darby.
May please the jury, and this sapient court!
That justice may be given to whom 'tis due—
That life may forfeit for the loss of life!
That human passion may rich lessons learn—
That life-blood, taken from so good a man,
And sprinkled on the thirsty earth, like rain!
That morals and religion, set at nought—
That night's dark widowhood be clothed in morn—
[Points to Angeline.
That sacred love, now trampled under foot—
And, more than all, that heaven may be appeased!
I rise, this moment, to unfold the truth.

Con.
If there be light thrown on this simple case,
Thy traitorship will make each credence dark!
The world has borne your insults long enough;
Thou hast been privy into more foul deeds,
Than half the locusts on the ancient Nile!
I know you—all within this crowded court—
And each, and all have known, of you, no good!
I tell this jury and this sapient court!—
And all, who hear me, in my self-defence!
That you have robbed your clients of their fees!—
That you have yearned to filch the widow's mite!—
That you have brought poor orphans into want!—
(As did that man, for whom you lie this day.)—
[Points at him.
Yes, thou hast been a traitor to thyself!
As every man, who steals another's goods!—
That, for a little glittering stuff, called gold!
Which bargains many a man his shameful death!
Thou hast been known to bear false witness oft!
And now, I say, a stranger unto love,—
(And when a man's a foe to female virtue,
That man's a foe to self, to God, and heaven!—
Whose words are headaches, which distract the brain!
Whose voice is mania, and whose smiles are clouds!)
Will, then, this grand tribunal hear such noise?—

Judge.
As he is not arraigned for any crime,
But counsel for the plaintiff, in this cause,
I know no reason why he should not speak;—
If, what he say, be false, the court can judge.

Darby.
Then, sir, the nature of this case demands
My voice!—Look at that widow's tears, and weep!
[Points to Angeline.
Look on that agony!—that rooted strife!
Which lifts up, into heaven, exalted wo!
Look at her cheek, bedewed with tender tears!—
I say, Alonzo was a noble man—

Con.
Not if you judge him by the fruits he bore!

Darby.
I say, Alonzo was a man of loftiest mind!
A statesman, sir!—of whom we should be proud—
A gentleman, acknowledged from his youth—

Con.
No man's a gentleman until he's twenty-one!

Darby.
I say, Alonzo died! was killed at night!
When all was silent, not a star did shine—

Con.
The absence of the stars can throw no light
Upon this case,—but tends to darken night.

Darby.
He told me that Eudora's wish was sealed;
And through the chambers of his heart, incensed,
Could have no vent, save, with Alonzo's blood!—
Now, these are things which touch our inmost souls.
We wish revenge, for loss of life!—no more!
The handkerchief and dagger shall be shown,
And, if the rent in both, in shape and size,
Do not accord with facts, as with the wound,
With, also, all the threats exposed to me—
Then, all I've said, is vain,—untrue and false!
[Darby speaks to the Sheriff.
Then bring the dagger and the 'kerchief here!
They shall confirm the truths which I have spoken!

[Sheriff searches, but cannot find them.
Sheriff.
I had them—but I cannot find them now!

[Darby amazed.
Con.
Now, I could say, he never had such things,
But, I will state, distinct, he had them both;
And, I sincerely wish he had them here.
For, by my soul! there is no blood upon 'em!—
Who swears that blood came from Alonzo's heart?
I never spoke about Alonzo's guilt.
When Alfred told me of Eudora's shame!
I told him, I believed her pure as truth;
And so I did!—you all have proof of this!
By knowing this, I hated him the more!—
But never did I say this thing to man!
Alfred will testify to what I've said—
[Points to Alfred.
But this is not the point.—I hope this court
Will not sit prejudic'd against my wife!
Nor, will the jury balance what has been,
With things that are,—in such immortal scales!
I tell you, 'tis untrue, as God is just!—
May every hair, upon this head, turn fiends.
And witness, to denounce me, white as snow!
May every heartstring take ten years to break!
May each kind member of my body writhe!
May palsy, like Elymas's, strike me blind,
And both my eye-balls glare out worlds of guilt!—
May all the winds, and every freshening breeze,
In which my life luxuriates—turn storms!
And every good turn evil!—sweet turn sour!
If ever such an utter once escap'd my lips!—

Darby.
May please the court!—I have one witness more—
[Points to the Doctor.
There is a tendril of the same dear vine,
From which, so many buds, doth yearly spring!—
[Walks near.
Here is the last surviving name on earth—
The rest are gone to an untimely grave!—

Con.
Where all such traitors ought to go!
Ah! I have rid thee of a world of shame?

[To Angeline.
Angeline.
Oh! thou hard hearted wretch! how vile!—how vile!

[Weeps.
Con.
I wish I had some tears to quench your fire!
You have no proof that I have done this deed!

Darby.
Did you, or did you not, behold that deed?

Doct.
I did!

Con.
Where was he, when you saw him last?

Doct.
He left—passed out the room, as I went in!

Con.
How could you see him in the dead of night?

Doct.
I heard him run, and also heard him speak!

Con.
This is the no plus ultra of extremes!
This prima facie looks extremely fair.
[Disdainfully.
You may have heard a horse—or some huge beast?
A clap of thunder?—will this hang a man?
If this lame evidence can hang a man,
Good bye to legislation, and her laws!
America's no more the light of heaven!—

Darby.
We have one evidence, may please the court!
Which is not here!—to-morrow, he shall come—
The handkerchief and dagger shall be found;
And then, all disputation will be vain.

Judge.
From these suggestions he may go to jail.

Con.
“Then you'll be deep in mud, as your in mire.”

Judge.
Sheriff! take the prisoner back to jail!

Darby.
Go—

[Pointing after him. Sheriff guards him out to jail.
Judge.
I've heard no evidence can hang that man.

[Court adjourns. Exeunt omnes.