University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

Scene 1.

—The Quay at Boston; enter at opposite points Deacon Eldad, and Nathan, with others.
Nathan.
Is he come back? who knoweth? and what tidings?

Eldad.
One question at a time, friend: shrewd Ben Franklin
Came by this packet,—and the Morning Star
They say had full seven weeks of it, for storms,
And calms, and contrary winds,—but as to news
Nothing known yetawhile: he holds his tongue,
That wise old proverb-monger, for he thinks
“Least said is soonest mended;” which I doubt,
For if one would expound,—

Nathan.
But touching England?
What message is brought back from our hard mother?
Who knoweth? guesseth aught?

Eldad.
Patience awhile:
To-day the Congress meets; we shall soon hear
How Franklin sped before the King in Council,
(enter Arnold)
And with what favour or what bitter speech
Old England greets her ancient colonies,—

Nathan.
Pray heaven she speak us fair,—

Arnold.
By heaven, she'd better!
Or from the fists of her own freeborn sons
She shall be taught that tyrants cannot rule them:
What? shall our mother,—call her step-mother,—
Tax us against our wills, strangle our trade,
Force on us reams of her extortionate stamps,
Shut up our chapels and our printing presses,
Make laws to bind us (no leave asked or given),
Set judges over us, but we to pay,
Deny us jury-trial, that old free right,
Quarter an army here at our own cost,
To keep us down in case we dared to rise,—
By heaven! but England shall deal thus no longer!

Nathan.
Stranger, our King is just, ay generous,
Can do no wrong, nor will it: and his rights,
Taxing, protecting, governing, and binding,
May not be touched—as of the Lord's Anointed.

Arnold.
A suffering people, not their somewhile tyrant,
Such be the Lord's anointed!

Eldad.
Yet we, friend,
Be subjects still, and must obey the laws,—
For look you—

Arnold.
Hold!—obey them, if we make them;
Not else: if made against our wills, or worse
Without our freeborn voices in contempt,
They are no laws to us; subjects, not slaves,
His Majesty's right loyal colonists
(Be it as you will)—yet independent, free,
Safe to give all due honour, homage, custom,
But scorning to be mulcted in our right,—

Nathan.
And wouldst thou have us rebels for such right?
If right it be for men to rule themselves.

Arnold.
Predestined slave! a man is not a man
Who suffers any rule that thwarts his will.
Those who let others govern as they please,
Without the votes of freemen freely given,
Are but the meanest cowards: none such here.

Eldad.
This smells like treason, sir, for—

Arnold.
Treason be it!
If George of England steals the rights of man,
George of America shall win them back.
Ay, let the King, if he must mutter thunders,
Beware lest our Ben Franklin draw down lightning,
And such a storm be raised shall split the globe,
Riving it that the two halves stand apart.

Nathan.
Forefend that evil day.

Arnold.
No! let it come!
Our millions must be free; it is high time;
Too long has England drained us well nigh dry,
Her milch-kine colonists, and worse than so,
Sucking our lifeblood with her vampyre lips,—
Then welcome Revolution!

Nathan.
That were ruin,
Spoiling all gainful commerce every way;
What though some liberties be bound, what if
The candles of some consciences are dimmed?
We still may light the lamps of industry
And earn by merchandize all man can want;
I'm not for war,—nor freedom, meaning war,
Nor any strife, nor patriotism,—

Arnold.
Shame!
Shame on your miserable peacemongering!
We must light torches of a fiercer sort
Than those dull office lamps of industry;
Torches to blaze and burn, quenched but by blood,
If any dare to touch our liberties,—
(enter Mary Arnold)
How now, my sister?

Mary Arnold.
Benedict, I ran
To tell you the sad news, that Major André
—So soon to be your brother and my husband,—
Has heard, and all too truly; peace and war
Hung in the balances,—and peace is down.

Arnold.
Then André is my foe,—and must be yours!—
A feathered gallant in the tyrant's camp
Can claim no brotherhood with me—or you—
From this day you renounce him!

Mary Arnold.
Never, never!
Benedict, you were always my fierce brother
Even from the day since we were both left orphans;
Yet was I plighted with your given good leave
To mine own loved John André, months agone,
And none shall part us now! for life, for death,
Mary and John are wedded as one spirit!

Arnold.
Tut, girl! you must forget him.

Mary.
Benedict,
My brother, be more merciful; thou knowest
I cannot, dare not stand against thy will,—
I always feel its power wrestling me down,
Yet, leave my heart its treasure!

Arnold.
Silly child,
I too can rave—more sternly—never, never!
If Major André fights on England's side,
He bursts the bond between us. Go, forget him,—
You shall not leave my house. Obey my will.
(Some run in)
(exit Mary.)
Ho! Citizens: is it all blurted out?
Is the sword drawn, to strike for liberty?
Hurrah for the good news! Come, let us haste
On to this Congress, our new league the States
Headed by Washington, to hear what Franklin
Brings us from hostile England as our envoy.

Scene 2.

—Washington in Council: deputies sitting round: some citizens grouped behind.
Washington.
Statesmen and brothers, we are met this day
Solemnly to proclaim our rights and wrongs,
Duteously in sober wisdom to decide,
And firmly with all promptitude to act
For peace or war, as Providence may will.
Our messenger from England, Benjamin Franklin,
Awaits your bidding, to make known to us
What the King chooses for us—and himself.

(Enter Franklin. They shout)

Welcome, good brother! welcome, Benjamin Franklin!

Franklin.
Worshipful President, and worthy Statesmen,
When, as the thirteen colonies resolved,
I stood your delegate and deputy
To plead our rights before King George in council,
I had small hope—it scarce was worth a fear,—
That minister or King would favour us.
Lord North was proud and cold and reticent,
The King—to speak out plainly—obstinate,
Grenville, and Grafton too, seemed full of scorn
At parleying with (for so they called us) traitors;
And though great Chatham spoke up nobly for us
As injured and unhappy and traduced,
Stoutly protesting how we well deserved
For patient patriotism to that hour
To hold all right God giveth unto man
Self-government and natural liberties
Of conscience, speech, religion, trade, all free,
Glad that we stood for them; though Edmund Burke
Made the assembled council tremble and thrill
When from his fervid heart and eloquent tongue
Our wrongs were poured before them; and though Barré
Flashed Junius-fire from out his cunning eyes
Whilst he denounced and lashed with irony
The placemen and the pensioners, who dared
To play the tyrant over us,—all was vain,
Our cause, I saw it at once, had been prejudged;
The die was cast; they flung my pleas aside,
They scoffed at protestation, railed at us,
As runaway emigrants, adventurers,
Nay, some (they sneered) convicted criminals,
Deserters out of bounds, plantation serfs,
His Majesty's own property forsooth,
Born but for tribute and to render dues:
Thus did they taunt us:—but I answered them;
That we were now three million honest men
Freeborn, and claiming liberty as right;
We had grown strong in our Columbian home;
And would not tolerate prætorian guards
To keep us prisoners, ay, and feed on us;
I said we hated priest-craft, and would none
Of State religion, and its hierarchy,
We would have none of foreign laws or judges
Or taskmaster officials grinding us
By tyrannous taxation everywhere,—
I told them we denounced, renounced all these,
And claimed, though loyal still, self-government.
Yet all fell through; an utter chaos of failure
Seemed to crash round me, like a shattered world;
And then I felt much as that self-strong man,
Horace's, you remember,—who defies
As you, with me, defy the thunderbolt
Even of tyrannic Jove himself: alone,
In the calm majesty of self-respect,
I thus threw down your gage of Independence,
And, full free conduct granted, came away
Pledged, like yourselves, a rebel for the right!

(The Council cheer him)
Bravo, great Franklin,—bravely spoken, brother.

Washington.
Statesmen, we all approve and countersign
The noble words and acts of Benjamin Franklin;
Your votes by acclamation.

(They shout)

All, all, all!

Washington.