University of California Berkeley POEMS DESCRIPTIVE DRAMATIC, LEGENDARY AND COJSPTEMPLATIYE BY WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS, ESQ IN TWO VOLUMES YOL. I. I. NORMAN MAURICE, A TRAGEDY II. ATALANTIS, A TALE OF THE SEA III. TALES AND TRADITIONS OF THE SOUTH IV. THE CITY OF THE SILENT REDFIELD 110 & 112 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YOKK 1853 ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, By W. GILMORE SIMMS. in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. NORMAN MAURICE; OR, THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE. M15957 DKAMATIS PEKSON^E. NORMAN MAURICE. ROBERT WARREN, his kinsman and enemy. RICHARD OSBORNE, an attorney and creature of Warren. HARRY MATTHEWS, a friend of Warren. COL. BLASINGHAME, afire-eater. BEN FERGUSON, a leading politician. COL. MERCER, ) ^ COL. BROOKS, \ Pol ^ ctans <>f oppose party. MAJOR BAVAGE, a friend of Blasinghame. CAPT. CATESBT, U. S. A., friend of Maurice. Citizens, Lawyers, &c. MRS. JERVAS, a widow. CLARICE DELANCY, her niece, afterwards wife to Maurice. WIDOW PRESSLEY, a client of Maurice KATE PRESSLEY, her grand-daughter. BIDDY, a servant girl. SCENE First, in Philadelphia ; afterwards, in Missouri. NORMAN MAURICE. ACT I. SCENE 1. A. parlor in the house of Mrs. Jervas, in Walnut-street, Philadelphia. Mrs. Jervas and Robert Warren discovered the latter entering hastily and with discomposure. MRS. JERVAS, \eagerly.~] Well ? WARREN. It is not well ! 'Tis ill ! She lias refused me ! MRS. J. Has slie then dared ? WARREN. Ay, has she ! Something farther She does not scruple to avow her passion For my most worthy cousin, Norman Maurice. MRS. J. She shall repent it she shall disavow it, Or she shall know ! I'll teach her ! WARREN. She's a pupil With will enough of her own to vex a master ! MRS. J. I have a will too, which shall master her ! Is she not mine ? my sister's child ? a beggar, That breathes but by my charity ! I'll teach her, And she shall learn the lesson set for her, Or I will turn her naked into the streets, As pennyless as she came. But, wait and see, You shall behold WARREN. Nay, wait till I am gone, IB "NORMAN MAURICE. Then use your best severity. She needs it Has no sufficient notion of her duty, And MRS. J. No, indeed ! WARREN. But you must make her wiser. MRS. J. I will! I've treated her too tenderly ! WARREN. But show her Some little glimpse of the danger in her path, Shame and starvation MRS. J. She deserves them both. WARREN. And keep my worthy cousin from her presence. MRS. J. He darks these doors no more ! The girl, already, Has orders to deny him. WARREN. You've done wisely. A little time, but keep them separate, And we shall conquer her ; ay, conquer him too, For I've a little snare within whose meshes His feet are sure to fall. MRS. J. What snare ? WARREN. No matter ! Be ignorant of the mischief till it's over, And we enjoy its fruits ! Meanwhile, be busy, Pursue the plan you purpose, and to-morrow, We shall know farther. I shall use the moments, 'Twixt this and then, in labors which must profit, Or fortune grows perverse. See you to Aer, While I take care of him. MRS. J. Oh, never fear me I'll summon her the moment you are gone, And she shall know WARREN. That you may summon her For we must lose no time I take my leave. [Ex. Warren. NORMAN MAURICE. MRS. J. The pert and insolent baggage ! But III teach her ! I'll let her know from whose benevolent hand She eats the bread of charity whose mercy It is, that clothes her nakedness with warmth. [Rings. Enter Biddy. Go, Biddy ! send my niece to me. [Ex. Biddy.'] A beggar, That fain would be a chooser ! So, Miss 1 Enter Clarice. CLARICE. Dear Aunt ! MRS. J. Ay, you would dare me in another fashion, But you have met your match ; and now I tell you, Clarice Delancy, 'tis in vain you struggle CLARICE. What have I done ? MRS. J. Oh ! you are ignorant, And innocent seeming as the babe unborn, If tongue and face could speak for secret conscience, That harbors what it should not. So, you dare Avow a passion for that beggarly Maurice, Whom I've forbid the house ! CLARICE. Forbidden Maurice ! MRS. J. Ay, indeed ! forbid ! CLARICE. In what has he offended ? MRS. J. His poverty offends me his presumption. CLARICE. Presumption ! MRS. J. He has the audacity to think of you In marriage he would heir my property ; The miserable beggar ! who, but lately CLARICE. And, if the humble Clarice might presume, There were no fitter husband ! From the Fates I do entreat no happier destiny Than but to share, o'er all that wealth may proffer, The beggary that he brings ! MRS. J. But you shall never ! 8 NOEMANMAUKICE. I am your guardian, in the place of mother, And I will turn you naked from these doors If you but dare CLARICE. Ah ! that were guardianship, Becoming the dear sister of a mother, Who, when she left her hapless child to earth, Ne'er dream'd of such remembrance, in the future, Of what beseem'd the past. I've anger'd you, But cannot chide myself, because my nature Does not revolt at homage of a being In whom no virtue starves. Suppose him poor ! Wealth makes no certain happiness to hope, Nor poverty its loss. In Norman Maurice I see a nobleness that still atones for The lowly fortunes that offend your pride. None richer lives in rarest qualities, More precious to the soul that feeds on worth, Than all your city glitter. Do you think To win me from a feast of such delights, To the poor fare on common things that make The wealth of Robert Warren ? Madam my aunt, I thank you for the bounty you have shown me ! It had been precious o'er most earthly things, But that it hath its price, at perilous cost To things more precious still. Your charity, That found a shelter for this humble person, Were all too costly, if it claims in turn This poor heart's sacrifice. I cannot make it ! I will not wed this Warren, for I know him And, if it be that I shall ever wed, Will wed with Norman Maurice as a man, Whom most it glads me that I also know. MRS. J. Never shall you wed with him while I have power To keep you from such folly. You're an infant, NORMAN MAURICE. That knows not what is needful for your safety, Or precious for your heart. Be ruled by me, Or forth you pack. I cut you off forever, From fortune as from favor. CLARICE. "Welcome death, Sooner than bonds like these ! MRS. J. Ungrateful girl 1 And this is the return for all my bounty f But you shall not achieve your own destruction, If I can help it. This Maurice never darkens My dwelling with his shadow. He hath made you Perverse and disobedient but he shall not Thrive by your ruin. See that you prepare To marry Robert Warren. CLARICE. With the grave first ! Its cold and silence, and its crawling things, Loathsome, that make us shudder but to think on, Sooner than he ! a base, unworthy creature, Who steals between his kinsman and the friend, That gave him highest trust and held him faithful, To rob him of the treasure he most values. The reptile that keeps empire in the grave Sooner than he, shall glide into this bosom, And make it all his own. MRS. J. Silence, I say !- Before I madden with your insolence, And lose the memory of that sainted sister That left you in my trust. CLARICE. My poor, dear mother ! She never dream'd of this, in that dark hour That lost me to her own ! MRS. J. I'm in her place, To sway your foolish fancies with a prudence You will not know yourself. Once more I tell you, 10 NORMAN MAUEICE. You wed with Warren Robert Warren, only ! This Maurice [noise without] Ha ! That noise 2 MAURICE, [in the hall without] I must, my girl ! CLARICE. 'Tis Maurice now. MRS. J. The insolent ! will he dare ! BIDDY, [in the hall without.] Mrs. Jervas says, sir MAURICE, [without] Ay ! ay ! she says ! But when a lady means civilities, 'Tis still my custom to do justice to her, By seeking them in person. There, my girl, You've done your duty as you should. Now, please you, I will do mine. [Entering the room] Madam MRS. J. Was ever insolence BIDDY, [entering] Mr. Maurice would, ma'am. MRS. J. This conduct, sir MAURICE. Would be without its plea at common seasons,- And he whose purpose was a morning visit, The simply social object of the idler, Who finds in his own time and company The very worst offence, could offer nothing, To plead for his intrusion on that presence, Which, so politely, shuts the door against him. MRS. J. Well, sir ? MAURICE. But I am none of these. MRS. J. What plea, sir \ MAURICE. Some natures have their privilege some passions Demand a hearing. There are rights of feeling, That art can never stifle griefs, affections, That never hear the civil " Not at home !" When home itself is perill'd by submission. He's but a haggard that obeys the check, When all that's precious to his stake of life Is fasten'd on the string. Necessity Makes bold to ope the door which fashion's portress v' , NORMAN MAURICE. 11 ^ - Would bolt and bar against him. 'Tis my fate, That prompts me to a rudeness, which my nurture Would else have shrunk from. But that I have rights Which move me to defiance of all custom, I had not vex'd your presence. MRS. J. Rights, sir rights ? MAURICE. Ay, madam, the most precious to the mortal ! Rights of the heart, which make the heart immortal In those affections which still show to earth, The only glimpses we have left of Eden. Behold in her, [pointing to Clarice^\ my best apology One, whom to gaze on silences complaint, And justifies the audacity that proves Its manhood in its error. Clarice, my love, Is there from any corner of your heart An echo to the will that says to Maurice, Your presence here is hateful ? [Takes her hand.] CLARICE. Can you ask ? MAURICE. Enough ! MRS. J. Too much, I say. Let go her hand, And leave this dwelling, sir ! I'm mistress here ; And shall take measures for security Against this lawless insolence. O MAURICE. Awhile ! awhile ! You are the mistress here ; I will obey you ; Will leave your presence, madam, never more To trouble you with mine. You now deny me The privilege, that never act of mine Hath properly made forfeit. You behold me The suitor to your niece. You hear her language. How different from your own that, with its bounty Makes rich my heart with all the gifts in hers ! Sternly, you wrest authority from judgment, To exercise a will that puts to scorn 12 NORMAN MAURICE. Her hopes no less than mine ! I would have pleaded Your calm return to judgment ; would entreat you To thoughts of better favor, that might sanction, With the sweet blessing of maternal love, The mutual passion living in our hearts ; But that I know how profitless the pleading, Which, in the ear of prejudice, would soften The incorrigible wax that deafens pride. I plead not for indulgence will not argue The cruelty that finds in charity Commission for that matchless tyranny That claims the right to break the orphan's heart Because it finds her bread. CLARICE, [aside to JVormanJ] Spare her, Norman. MAURICE, [aside to Clarice.'] Oh! will I not! Yet wherefore need I spare, When, if the Holy Law be not a mock, The justice which must break this heart of stone, Will send her howling through eternity. 'Twere mercy, which in season speaks the truth, That, in the foretaste of sure penalties, May terrify the offender from his path, And send him to his knees. CLARICE, [aside to Maurice^ For my sake, Norman. MAURICE, [to Mrs. J.] Yet, madam, in this freest use of power, Which drives me hence, be merciful awhile, And, if this heart, so dearly link'd with mine, Through love and faith unperishing, must turn Its fountains from that precious overflow That kept my flowers in bloom yet, ere the word, That leaves me sterile ever thence, be said, Suffer us, apart awhile, to speak of parting ! Words of such import still ask fewest ears, And words of grief and hopelessness like ours, NORMAN MA UKICE. 13 Must needs have utterance in such lowly tones, As best declare the condition of the heart, That's muffled for despair. But a few moments We'll walk apart together. MRS. J. It is useless ! What needs MAURICE. What need of sorrow ever ! Could earth speak, Prescribing laws to that Divinity, That still smites rock to water, we should hear, The universal voice of that one plea, That claims for man immunity from troubles Which make proud eyes o'erflow. Who should persuade His fellow to opinion of the uses That follow from his tears ? What school, or teacher, Would seek to show that chemistry had art, To fix and harden the dilating drops To brilliants as they fall, such as no crown In Europe might affect ? One finds no succor, Sovereign to break the chain about his wrist, From all the fountains that o'ersluice the heart ; Yet will he weep, though useless. He who stands, Waiting upon the scaffold for the signal, That flings him down the abyss, still hoards each minute That niggard fate allows. That single minute Still shrines a hope ; if not a hope, a feeling, That finds a something precious even in pain, And vili not lose the anxiety that racks him, Lest he make forfeit of a something better Which yet he cannot name. And, at the last, I, whom you doom to loss of more than life, May well implore the respite of a moment, If but to suffer me to count once more, The treasure that I lose. A moment, madam ? MRS. J. [walks up the staged] A single moment, then. 14 NOEMAN MAURICE. MAURICE. Oh ! you are gracious ! A single moment is a boundless blessing To him you rob of time ! Clarice, my love. CLARICE. My Norman ! MAURICE. Oh ! is it thus, my Clarice is it thus ? CLARICE. We have been children, Norman, in ovj- We are the sport of fate ! MAURICE. And shall be ever, If that there be no courage in our hearts To shape the fates to favor by our will. CLARICE. What mean you, Norman ' MAURICE. What should Norman mean, But, if he can, to grapple with his fortune, And, like a sturdy wrestler in the ring, Throw heart and hope into the perilous struggle ? Wliat should I mean but happiness for thee, Thou willing, as myself ? Who strives with fate, Must still, like him, the mighty Macedonian, Seize the coy priestess by the wrist, and lead her Where yet she would not go ! Suppose me faithful To the sweet passion I have tender'd you, And what remains in this necessity, But that, made resolute by grim denial, I challenge from your love sufficient courage, To take the risks of mine ! CLARICE. Within your eye A meaning more significant than your words, Would teach me still to tremble. That I love you, You doubt not, Norman ! That my heart hath courage To match the love it feels for you MAURICE. It hath it hath ! If that the love be there, as I believe it, That love will bring, to nourish needful strength, A virtue that makes love a thing of soul, NORMAN MAURICE. 15 And arms its will with wings. Oh ! read yon not, My meaning MRS. J. \approcwhing '.] Your moment is a long one, sir. MAURICE. Ah, madam ! Who chides .the executioner when he suffers The victim his last words though still he lingers Ere he would reach the last ? But a few moments, And T have spoken all that my full heart Might not contain with safety. MRS. J. [retiring up the ?tagel\ Be it so, sir. MAURICE. You hear, my Clarice. We've another moment : But one, it seems, unless your resolution Takes its complexion from the fate that threatens And shows an equal will. If then, in truth, You love me CLARICE. Oh ! look not thus ! MAURICE. I doubt not ; And yet, dear Clarice, if indeed you love me, The single moment that this woman gives us, Becomes a life ; to me, of happiness, To thee, as full of happiness as thou Might hope to gain from me. She would deny us, Would wed thee to that subtle Robert Warren CLARICE. I'll perish first ! MAURICE. No need of perishing When I can bring thee to security. I knew thy straits the tyranny which thou suffer'st Because of thy dependence ; and my struggle, Since this conviction reached me day and night Was, that I might from this condition snatch thee, And, in thy happier fortunes, find mine own ! I have prepared for this. CLARICE. What would'st thou, Norman ? MRS. J. [approaching] Your moments fly. 1C NORMAN MAURICE. MAURICE. I soon shall follow them. MRS. J. [retiring again^\ The sooner, sir, the better. MAURICE. She would spare me, The argument which shows thee what is needful. CLARICE. Speak ! I have courage equal to my love ! MAURICE. I try thee though I doubt not ! If thou lov'st in Thou'lt yield, without a question, to my purpose, And give me all thy trust. CLARICE. Will I not, Norman ? MAURICE. Then, with the night, I make thee mine, Clarice ! Steal forth at evening. There shall be a carriage, And my good hostess, whom thou know'st, in waiting. Our future home is ready. CLARICE. Let me think, Norman. MAURICE. That's as your excellent aunt, who now approach( May please : but, surely, when to my fond pleading You sweetly vow'd yourself as mine alone, The proper thought that sanctions my entreaty Was all complete and perfect. CLARICE. But Norman, how How should I, in your poverty, encumber Your cares with a new burden ? MAURICE. There is no poverty, Which the true courage, and the bold endeavor, The honest purpose, the enduring heart, Crowned with a love that blesses while it burdens, May not defy in such a land as ours ! We'll have but few wants having one another ! And for these wants, some dawning smiles of fortune Already have prepared me. Trust me, Clarice, I will not take thee to a worse condition, In one whose charities shall never peril The affections they should foster. MRS. J. [approaching.] Sir, again ! NORMAN MAURICE. 1 MAURICE. Yes, yes most excellent madam yes again ! There's but a single syllable between us, Your niece hath left unspoken. My Clarice ! CLARICE. I'm thine ! MAURICE. 'Tis spoken ! And now I live again ! MRS. J. Well, sir art done at last ? MAURICE. Done ! Ay, madam done ! You've held me narrowly to a strict account And yet, I thank you. You've been merciful After a fashion which invokes no justice, And yet may find it, madam. Yet I thank you ! The word is said that's needful to our parting ; And that I do not in despair depart, Is due to these last moments. Fare you well ! Be you as safe, henceforth, from all intrusion, As you shall be from mine. Clarice farewell ! CLARICE. Norman. MAURICE, [embracing her.] But one embrace ! MRS. J. Away, sir. MAURICE. In earnest of those pleasant bonds hereafter, That none shall dare gainsay. Clarice Eemember ! [Exit Maurice. CLARICE. Go, Norman, and believe me. MRS. J. Get you in ! [Exeunt. 18 NORMAN MAUEICE SCENE II. A Lawyer's office in Philadelphia. Richard Osborne at a desk writing. Enter Robert Warren. WARREN, [eagerly.] Hast drawn the paper, Osborne ? OSBORNE. It is here. WARREN. The copy this ? OSBORNE. And this the original. WARREN, [examining papers.] "Tis very like ! You've done it famously : One knows not which is which ; and Norman Maurice, Himself, would struggle vainly to discover The difference 'twixt the words himself hath written, And these your skill hath copied to a hair. We shall deceive him. OSBORNE. Why would you deceive him ? WARREN. Eh ! Why ? It is my instinct ! Are you answer'd ? I hate him ! Would you have a better answer ? OSBORNE. Why hate him when his kindness still have served you 1 Tliis very obligation which hath bound him, And given us cruel power o'er his fortunes, His purse perhaps his honor WARREN. Why, perhaps ? Is it doubtful, think you, that this fatal writing, Made public, will disgrace him ? OSBORNE. An error only, The thoughtless sport of boyhood wholly guiltless Of all dishonest purpose. We have used it, You rather and the profit has been ours 1 NOEMAN MAURICE. 19 Why, if he pays the money as he proffers, Why treasure still this paper ? More why hate him ? WARREN. Let it suffice you that I have my reasons ! And let me tell you, Osborne, that I love not This sympathy which you show for Norman Maurice. BeAvare ! who goes not with me is against me ! OSBORNE. I'm in your power, I know WARREN. Then let your wisdom Abate its fond pretension as my teacher ! I'm better pleased with service than tuition ; Will hold you as my ally, not my master 1 I have remarked, of late, that you discover Rare virtues in my cousin ! He hath fee'd you ; Employed you as attorney in his cases OSBORNE. Not more than other counsellors. WARREN. No matter ! It is enough that you are mine ! OSBORNE. This jealousy WARREN. Is only vigilance ! Each look of favor, Bestow'd on him I loathe, is disaffection In him that's bound to me. OSBORNE. This document ? WARREN. The real one, the original is mine ; The copy you will yield him when he pays you ; That he will do so, now, I make no question, Though where his money comes from is my wonder. OSBORNE. The case of Jones & Peters, just determined, Brings him large fees. Another action, The insurance case of Ferguson - His hand ! his signature ! [they read. MAURICE. Well, gentlemen, you see it written there, What are my dangers if I dare to venture This widow's cause against him. Favor me, NORMAN MAURICE. 35 And read the answer which has just been written. MERCER, [reads aloud.'] Sir : The suit of Pressley vs. Blasing- hame will be prosecuted to conclusion, without regard to conse- quences, with the best strength and abilities of NORMAN MAURICE. MAURICE. It is brief, sir. BROOKS. 'Tis a defiance, Maurice ! MAURICE. 'Twas meant so, gentlemen. I am a man, Or I am nothing ! This poor widow's cause, The very insolence of this Blasinghame, Hath made my own ! I'll die for it if need be. MERCER. Art principled 'gainst the duel ? MAURICE. Rather ask, If, when my enemy takes me by the throat, I do oppose him with an homily. No man shall drive me from society ! I take the laws I find of force, and use them, For my protection and defence, as others Employ them for assault. MERCER. You've practised then ? MAURICE. Never shot pistol. BROOKS. Nor rifle ? MAURICE. Scarcely ! MERCER. You are very rash, sir ! MAURICE. Ay ! but rashness, sir, Becomes a virtue in a case like this ; And the brave heart, untaught in human practice, Finds good assurance from another source That prompts its action right. This letter's written, And goes within the hour. Let Blasinghame Chafe as he may, and thunder to the terror, Of those who have no manhood in themselves j He thunders at these portals still in vain ! To-morrow comes the trial after that ! 36 NORMAN MA US ICE. But let tlie future wear what look it may, I'll find the heart to meet it as a man I MERCER. Then you are firm ? MAURICE. As are the rocks, In conflict with the sea. MERCER. We joy to find you thus I We'll stand by you through danger to the last. BROOKS. Ay, Maurice, we are with you. MAURICE. Friends, your hands ! I am not used to friendship, but I love it, As still a precious gift, vouchsafed by heaven, Next best to love of woman ! For this danger, Fear nothing ! we shall 'scape it 1 Nay, 'twill give Or truth is not of God, new plumes for triumph ! SCENE II, The law office of Richard Osborne. Osborne discovered writing. Enter Warren. WARREN. We're on the track at last, Look at that letter ; It comes from our old comrade, Harry Matthews, And tells us miracles of Norman Maurice \ Our worthy cousin has the run of fortune ; She seems to crown him with her richest favors, As some old bawd, grown hackneyM in the market, Adopts a virgin passion in her dotage, And yields to her late folly, all the profits That follow'd the old vice. He's growing finely ; But I shall dock his feathers. OSBORNE. \reading^\ In Missouri. WARREN. Ay, in St. Louis, that great western city, N OEM AN MAUBICE. 37 Our worthy cousin, Norman, has grown famous ! You read what Matthews writes. In one short twelvemonth He springs above all shoulders. OSBORNE. I look'd for it ! He's not the man whom fortune can keep under. WARREN. What ! you forget our precious document ? OSBORNE. You will not use it now ? WARREN. Ah, will I not then ? If ever useful, HOW'S the right time for it ! See you not that he rises like an eagle, Already is in practice with the ablest, Wins popular favor 'without working for it, ^And stands i' the way of better politicians ? They fit his name to music for bad singers, To whom none listen save at suffrage time. We'll spoil the song for him. OSBORNE. What would you do ? WARREN. You are dull, Dick Osborne ! Have I yet to tell you That, over all, conspicuous in my hate, This minion of Fortune stands. His better luck Hath robb'd me of the prize which most I treasured His better genius trampled mine to dust, Humbled my pride when at its height, and crush'd me, Until I learn'd to loathe myself, as being So feeble in his grasp. OSBORNE. He crushes you no longer ! WARREN. Can I forget the past ? This memory Becomes a part of the nature o' the man, And of his future makes a fearful aspect, Unless ho cures its hurts. My path is where My enemy treads in triumph ! I shall seek it, And 'twill be hard if hate, well leagued with cunning, Is baffled of his toil. I seek St* Louis ! OSBORNE. Beware ! You'll make him desperate ! 38 NOKMAN MAURICE. WARREN. I hope so ! OSBORNE. It brings its perils with it ! Norman Maurice Will rend his hunter ! WARREN. If he be not wary ! But, fear you nothing. You shall go with me, And see how deftly, with what happy art, I shall prepare the meshes for my captive. OSBORNE. Me ! go with you ? and wherefore ? WARREN. A small matter ! While I shall drive the nail, you'll clinch the rivet. I'd have you there to prove this document ! OSBORNE. Spare me this, Warren ! WARREN. I can spare you nothing. OSBORNE. I do not hate this man ! He hath not wrong'd me, Cross'd not my path, nor, with a better fortune, Won from me aught I cherish'd. WARREN. Enough ! Enough ! Me hath he robb'd and wrong' d me hath he cross'd His better fortune still a fate to mine ! My injury is yours ! You love me, Osborne, Will do the thing that I regard as needful, The more especially as you have secrets, No less than Norman Maurice. We shall go, Together, as I fancy, to St. Louis ! OSBORNE. This is mere tyranny, Warren. WARREN. Very like it ! Guilt ever finds its tyrant in its secret, And, twinn'd with every crime, the accuser stands, Its own grim shadow, with the scourge and torture. OSBORNE. A dark and damnable truth ! Would I had perisliM Ere I had fallen, and follow'd, as you bade me ! WARREN. Spare the vain toil to cheat a troubled conscience, And to your preparations. By the morrow, We'll be upon the road. NORMAN MAURICE. 39 OSBORNE. But, for these papers ? WARREN. Confound the papers ! They will wait for us, But opportunity never ! Get you ready, And hush all vain excuses. If my sway Be somewhat tyrannous, still it hath its profits : Be you but true, and from the Egyptian spoil, There shall be still sufficient for your toil. [Exit Warren. OSBORNE. I'm chain'd to the stake ! He hath me in his power ! How truly hath he pictured my estate ! Thus he who doth a deed of ill in youth, Raises a ghost no seventy years can lay ! I must submit ; yet, following still his lead, Pray Providence for rescue, ere too late : 'Tis Providence, alone, may baffle Fate ! [Exit Osborne. SCENE III. The house of Mrs. Jervas in Walnut-street. Enter Mrs. J. and Robert Warren. MRS. J.. Art sure of what you tell me ? WARREN. Never doubt it ! Matthews, who writes me, is an ancient friend Who knows this Maurice well. He sees him often, Though it would seem that Maurice knows not him. O His rising fortunes favor you ! 'Twere well You sought your niece. You are her kinswoman, The nearest, and the loss of all your fortune, By failure of the bank MRS. J. But Maurice likes me not ! WARREN. Natural enough ! You still opposed his passion ; things are alter'd now. You've but to show him 40 NORMAN MAURICE. 'Twas for your niece's good, in your best judgment, That you denied his suit. But, go to her ; He's doing well is popular grows wealthy ; And now that Fortune looks with smiles on him, He well may smile on you ! You'll live with them, And we shall meet there. MRS. J. We ? Meet 2 WARREN. Did I not love her ? MRS. J. Ah I WARREN. And should he die ? Should accident, or MRS. J. I see ! I see ! WARREN. You are my friend, and you will show her MRS. J. Ah ! trust me, Robert Warren WARREN. That's enough ! We understand each other. You will go, Her only kinswoman to seek her out. You have but her in the world ! Say you have err'd ; It was because you loved her that you strove, 'Gainst one, who, whatsoe'er his worth and talent, Was not o'erbless'd by Fortune ! He may frown, But cannot well deny you ; and, for Clarice She will not, sure, repel her mother's sister. MRS. J. I'll go ! I need the succor of my kindred. WARREN. We'll meet then ; but you must not know me there 'Tis not my policy to vex my rival, Provoke suspicion, move his jealousy, Or startle her by any bold renewal , Of pleadings late denied. Should you discover That he who, in their presence, stands before you, Is other than he seems, you will know nothing ; Since that may spoil your game as well as mine. MRS. J. You are a deep one ! WARREIT. When I have your counsel ! This Maurice thought but humbly of your judgment. NOR MAN MAURICE 41 He knew you not as I do. He was blinded By his own proud conceit and arrogance, And held himself an oracle. 'Twere wise If still you suffer'd him to fancy thus Checked him in nothing never counsell'd him For still I know he holds your wisdom cheaply, And scorns the experience which might rise against His own assured opinion. Such a person Needs but sufficient cord MRS. J. And he shall have it ! WARREN. I'll seek your counsel soon, and you shall teach me What is our proper action. You will find me More ready to confide in your experience, Than him whose cunning seem'd to baffle it. O Farewell then, madam, till we meet again. [Exit Warren. MRS. J. Farewell, sir ! A most excellent young man ! This Maurice shall not carry it at will, He scorns me, does he ? He shall feel me still ! [Exit. SCENE IV. The hall in the cottage of Norman Maurice. Time midnirjld. Enter Maurice in night-gown, as just started from his couch. His hair dishevelled his manner wild and agitated his whole appearance that of a man painfully excited and distressed. MAURICE. That I should be unmann'd ! That a mere dream, The blear and frightful aspects of a vision, Should rouse me to such terror, shake my soul From the strong moorings of a steadfast will, And drive it, a mere wreck, upon the seas, No hand upon the helm ! Ah ! my Clarice. [Enter Clarice. V2 NORMAN MAURICE. CLARICE. My husband MAURICE. I would thou had'st not seen me thus, Clarice. CLARICE. What means this terror wherefore did you cry MAURICE. Surely I did not. CLARICE. Yes, a terrible shriek, As one who rushes desperate on his foe ! MAURICE. No mortal foe has ever from my lips, Sleeping or waking, forced acknowledgment, That humbles me like this CLARICE. What dost thou mean ? What fear ? MAURICE. What answer shall I make to thee ? How tell thee, my Clarice, 'twas a mere dream, That filled me with that agonizing fear, W T hose shriek thou heard'st. Yet, such a dream, my wife, As still pursues me with its hideous forms, And shakes me yet with terror. That a man, Conscious of strength and will, with conscience free, Should, in a mere disorder of his blood, In midnight sleep, feel all his soul unsinew'd, And sink into the coward ! CLARICE. Thou art none ! MAURICE. Yet such a vision and methinks I see ! Hist, is there nothing crawling by the hearth, Crouching and winding, and with serpent folds, Preparing its dread venom ? CLARICE. There is nothing, husband The hearth holds only the small jar of flowers. MAURICE. The reptile ever seeks such crouching place, And garbs his spotty hide with heedless blossoms, That know not what they harbor. Fling it hence ! Twos on the hearth it crouch'd. But, hear me, wife ; That dream ! 'Twas of a serpent on our hearth, Thou heedless, with thy hand upon the flowers, NORMAN MAURICE. Disposing them for show. Unseen and soft It wound about thee its insidious coil, And, at the moment when I first beheld, Its brazen head was lifted, its sharp fang Was darting at thy heart ! 'Twas then I shriek'd And rush'd upon the monster thus, and smote ! [Dashing the vase to pieces. Heedless of every sting, I trampled it ; But, even as it writhed beneath my heel, Methought, it lifted up a human face That look'd like Robert Warren ! CLARICE. What a dream ! MAURICE. I cannot shake it off. Did'st hear a sound Most like a hiss ? CLARICE. Nay, nay ! 'twas but a dream ! Come come to bed. MAURICE. Why should I dream of him ? CLARICE. You think of him, perchance. MAURICE. And, as a reptile ! The terrible image still before me crawls Oh ! that I might, with but a bound and struggle, Though still at life's worst peril, trample him ! CLARICE. Yet wherefore ? MAURICE. There are instincts of the soul, That have a deep and true significance, And, though no more in danger from his malice, I feel within me that he works unsleeping, In venomous toils against me. CLARICE. But, in vain. Come, Norman, come to bed. You frighten me. MAURICE. Forgive me ! There ! I have thee at my lips, I strain thee to my bosom with a joy That leaves no rapture wanting yet, methinks, I hear a sound of hissing, and still see 44 NOKMAN MAUEICE. Glimpses of folding serpents that, behind, Crawl after us CLARICE. My Norman ! MAURICE. I grieve thee ! I will forget this vision in the blessing This grasp makes real to rapture. Let us in. [Refolds his arm about her, and they leave the apartment, he looking behind him suspiciously she looking up to him. SCENE V. The edge of a wood. A cottage in the distance. Enter Robert Warren, Osborne, and Harry Matthews. The former disguised with false hair, whiskers, d*c. MATTHEWS, [pointing to cottage. ,] Look! you may see it now ! WARREN. There, then, he harbors ? A goodly cottage he's a man of taste, Not yet too old for sentiment, it seems ; Loves flowers and shade trees, and around his porches I fancy that we see some gadding tendrils, That wanton, with full censers, in his homage ! He should be happy there ! MATTHEWS. Why, so he is. WARREN. You think so ? MATTHEWS. There's every thing to make him so. lie's young Is on the road to fortune and to fame, And has a handsome wife. WARREN. The landscape's fair, Looks bright beneath the sunshine and exhales A thousand delicate odors rich in life ; But, sometimes, there's a tempest in the night, And where's your landscape then ? NORMAN MAURICE. 45 MATTHEWS. Be this his case, It shall not cost me one poor hour of sleep, For all the coil it makes. This man's our foe, Goes with our enemies in politics, And will, though now he knows it not himself, Be run, against our crack man, for the Senate. WARREN. Who's he ? MATTHEWS. Ben Ferguson. WARREN. Plain Ben ? MATTHEWS. Colonel Ben ! Tis only when the man's a favorite, We take the formal handle from his name And sing it short for sweetness. WARREN. Is he able ? MATTHEWS. We thought him so till this your Maurice came ; Since then our favorite loses in the race. Ben is a lawyer in first practice here And had the field to himself since I have known him, Till now OSBORNE. Maurice and he have grappled then ? MATTHEWS. To Ferguson's defeat. OSBORNE. Before the jury ? MATTHEWS. Ay, every way before the judge and jury, In court and out of court. At public meetings They were in opposite ranks, and, with each issue, Maurice hath risen still in popular favor, While Ferguson declines. It will rejoice us, If, as you say, you have some history To floor this powerful foe ! WARREN. You need not doubt it. But who are Mends to Maurice, here, the people ? MATTHEWS. Were it the people only, it were nothing. They have not yet arisen to self-esteem, And, kept full fed on vanity, are heedless, 46 NORMAN MAUK ICE. Hugging their shadows, how they lose the substance. Here, all their sympathies are held by others ; Men of much wealth and some ability, Who, gladly, in this Maurice find an ally, And join with him to use him. There's a party Who long have lacked a leader. Norman Maurice Brings them the head they seek. He guides their councils, And, with such prudent skill and policy, That still they fancy he is but their mouth-piece, Even while he gives the breath of life to them. I know that they will run him for the Senate. WARREN. Can they elect him ? MATTHEWS. It is somewhat doubtful. They never yet succeeded with their man, Not- having had the man to make success. What they can do for him is not the question, So much as what he may achieve for them. I tell you, though not fearful for the issue, It makes us something anxious. Now, this secret If it be true, indeed, that, WARREN. Be you ready ; I'll see your friends to-morrow. We'll sleep on it. To-night, I'll fathom Maurice if I can, And see how he enjoys his Western life. Enough ! I have him in my power ! To-morrow ! MATTHEWS. But what's the secret ? WARREN. It will keep till then. Be sure, that when your game is to be play'd When Norman Maurice, at the height of favor, Waits but the will to rise up Senator A single word shall damn him down to ruin, And stifle every voice that shouts his name. OSBORNE. Yet, once more, Warren, ere it be too late, Let me entreat and counsel NORMAN MAURICE. 47 WARREN. You are doting ! Go you with Matthews, and, should I be missing, You both can tell whither my steps were bent, And what my power upon him. OSBORNE. [aside to W.] Why incur This danger, for you too must see the danger, To feed this foolish malice ? WARREN, [aside to 0.] Is it foolish ? Not when the profit's yours, the pleasure mine ; And I, if fortune mocks me not with fancies, Shall find a pleasure in the game I play at, That you may never dream of ! Be you easy There's little danger ! I've securities 'Gainst him in you, and in his secret fears, Not less than in the policy I use ; Besides, my habit, does it not disguise me ? OSBORNE. He has the eye of an eagle ! WARREN. Pshaw ! OSBORNE. Beware ! His genius you yourself confess it, Warren Hath always, when the final issue came, Soar'd over you triumphant ! WARREN. Oh ! Good night. We'll meet again to-morrow ! [Ex-it Warren. OSBORNE. He'll pay for it ! He runs on ruin ! MATTHEWS. Not his own, methinks ! OSBORNE. His own, though now it seems not. I've an instinct That tells me Maurice cannot be o'erthrown. Baffled he may be ; you may torture him Deny him his just place and high position, One or more seasons ; but he'll rise at last, So firmly, that the very hands that struggle To tear him from his throne, will help to build it. 48 N O E M A N M A U K I C E . There are some men to whom the fates decree Performance, and this man is one of them ! What was his prospect when I knew him first ? He had no friends, he had no fellowships, No heedful care of parents no tuition ; He stood alone i' the world unknown, unhonor'd Nay, something hated, as I hap to know, For that he had some innate qualities, Of pride, of strength, of soul and character, That would not let him stoop ! In spite of all, He hath struggled through the strife and the obstruction ; Won friends ; won homage ; high position won ; And still hath grown, the more erect and noble. At each assault upon his pride and fortune ! I feel that he must triumph ! MATTHEWS. You speak well, The promise of our enemy ! You differ, Somewhat, from Robert Warren ; yet, you know This secret. OSBORNE. Ay as Warren's ; and I know, The rise of Maurice is his overthrow ! [.Exeunt. SCENE VI. The interior of the cottage of Norman Maurice. A table spre