UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA 
 
 THE LIFE AND DRAMATIC 
 
 WORKS OF ROBERT 
 
 MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 BY 
 CLEMENT E. OUST, A.M., PH.D. 
 
 INSTRUCTOR IN ENGLISH, UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA 
 
 A THESIS 
 
 PRESENTED TO THE FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL 
 
 IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS 
 
 FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Imicfcerbocfter press 
 
 NEW YORK 
 1919 
 
EXCHANGE 
 
PS 
 
 8 
 27 
 
 HO 
 
 MY MOTHER 
 
 MARY COMLY FOUST 
 
 3040 
 
PREFACE 
 
 IT is a matter of surprise that Robert Mont 
 gomery Bird has hitherto escaped the biographer. 
 Excepting the brief mention in textbooks and 
 encyclopedias, virtually nothing has been written 
 of a man whose name was once well known to the 
 reading public of both America and England. 
 Cast into cacophonous German, one of his novels 
 found its way to the continent and ran through 
 successive editions. It is, of course, futile to 
 deprecate the verdicts of time as it is unsafe to 
 predict them. It is rather the purpose of this book 
 to set forth the claims of Dr. Bird, such as they 
 are, to rank among American men of letters; and 
 incidentally to explore a character of great charm 
 that made him loved of all that knew him. 
 
 In consequence of the total lack of Bird Bio 
 graphy and criticism, the present writer has had 
 to depend solely on first-hand sources. He was 
 fortunate, through the kindness of Dr. Bird s 
 relatives, in having at his disposal all the extant 
 family papers, letters, diaries, clippings, personal 
 account books, rough and final drafts of novels 
 and plays, and other miscellaneous documentary 
 material of which there is a great abundance. 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 Of the four plays in this volume, Pelopidas, The 
 Gladiator, and Oralloossa appear in print for the 
 first time. The Broker of Bogota was first pub 
 lished in Prof. A. H. Quinn s recent volume, 
 Representative American Plays; and although the 
 present text is virtually a reprint of that, it was 
 thought desirable to include the play with the 
 three other chief dramatic works of Bird. In 
 every case, as is stated fully elsewhere, the texts 
 are based on manuscripts in the collection of Bird 
 papers at the Library of the University of Penn 
 sylvania. 
 
 It would be gratifying to mention all of the 
 many kind friends who have helped or encouraged 
 in the preparation of this book. But space permits 
 of only brief acknowledgments. Dr. Roland G. 
 Kent, of the Latin Department of the University 
 of Pennsylvania, cheerfully answered a number of 
 queries; Miss Jean Williams of Bristol, Pennsyl 
 vania, and Miss Dorothy Stock of Woodbury, 
 New Jersey, aided me with collation and proof 
 reading; Miss Mary Mack, Mrs. Barnes, and Mr. 
 Beach of the Edwin Forrest Home, joined in 
 making my visits at the Home both helpful and 
 enjoyable; Miss Emily Rodney and Mr. Henry 
 Hanby Hay of New Castle, Delaware, hospitably 
 acquaintedme with the scenes of Dr. Bird s early 
 years. I take especial pleasure in acknowledging 
 the aid and encouragement that were mine at the 
 hands of Dr. Bird s relatives. I wish to thank 
 Mrs. John Struthers, a niece of Dr. Bird, and Miss 
 
PREFACE vii 
 
 Helen von L. Struthers of Philadelphia, for many 
 delightful hours in their home and for the use of 
 their manuscripts. To Mr. Robert Montgomery 
 Bird of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, the grandson 
 of the author, more is due than can be told. But 
 for his exceptional kindness this volume had never 
 existed. After permitting me an unrestricted use of 
 his grandfather s papers, he generously presented 
 them in toto to the Library of the University of 
 Pennsylvania. To Prof. Felix E. Schelling, LL.D., 
 of Pennsylvania, I am indebted for much helpful 
 criticism, but more for the inspiration of an ac 
 quaintanceship that all who have been his students 
 must know; while Prof. Arthur H. Quinn, Dean of 
 the College, not only suggested the subject as a 
 thesis in American literature, but gave without 
 stint of his time and experience in supervising the 
 work. 
 
 NORTH WALES, PA., 
 June, 1918. 
 
 CLEMENT E. FOUST. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PREFACE . . . . . . v 
 
 PART I 
 LIFE 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. BIRTH AND PARENTAGE i 
 
 II. EDUCATION . . . . . 13 
 
 III. APPRENTICESHIP AND FIRST SUCCESS, 
 
 "THE GLADIATOR" ... 28 
 
 IV. FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS . 50 
 V. A PROLIFIC NOVELIST ... 76 
 
 VI. MARRIAGE, FARMING, TEACHING, AND 
 
 POLITICS . . . . 1 08 
 
 VII. JOURNALISM ..... 130 
 
 VIII. LAST DAYS 144 
 
 APPENDICES . . . . .161 
 BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE . . .165 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PART II 
 DRAMATIC WORKS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PELOPIDAS . . . . . 171 
 
 THE GLADIATOR .... 297 
 
 ORALLOOSSA . . . . 441 
 
 THE BROKER OF BOGOTA . . . 577 
 
 INDEX . . . . . . 723 
 
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The 
 
 Life and Dramatic Works of 
 Robert Montgomery Bird 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 BIRTH AND PARENTAGE 
 
 ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD was born February 
 5, 1806, at New Castle, Delaware. 1 He was the 
 son of John and Elizabeth Van Leuvenigh Bird, 
 the sixth of seven children. Both parents came 
 of large and stable families that had lived on 
 their Delaware lands for generations. They had 
 owned farms, married well, worthily served their 
 communities, and were reliable, upright people. 
 From them Dr. Bird received a rich inheritance 
 of character and health. 
 
 The Birds trace their lineage to an old English 
 family from Cheshire, whither originally they came 
 from Ireland. John Bird, one of its members, 
 won eminence in the time of Henry VIII. He was 
 
 1 The house in which he was born, now numbered 216, is still 
 to be seen on Delaware Street facing the old "green" or market 
 place. 
 
 i 
 
2 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 sent by the King, with the royal almoner and a 
 clerk of the council, to the divorced Queen, Cath 
 erine of Aragon, to induce her to forbear the name 
 of Queen, " which nevertheless she would not do," 
 the documents expressly phrase it. He was suc 
 cessively bishop of Penrith, bishop of Bangor, and 
 in 154) nrS , bishop of Chester. At the Restoration, 
 a family tradition avers, two brothers of the name, 
 members of Parliament, voted against King Charles 
 with the result that one lost his head, leaving a 
 widow and children in England. The other was 
 banished to America, where his son supposedly 
 began the family line. Certain it is that Thomas 
 Bird settled in Delaware about 1700 and bought 
 large tracts of land along the Red Clay Creek and 
 in Christiana Hundred. 1 All that is known of 
 Thomas Bird declares him a man of worth and 
 honor, a leader in his community. He married 
 Sarah Empson, daughter of Cornelius Empson, a 
 judge of the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania, and 
 died leaving six sons and four daughters. These 
 and their children added to farms, already great, 
 land in that loveliest county of Delaware, Brandy- 
 
 1 In 1713 Thomas Bird bought one hundred acres on the eastern 
 side of Red Clay Creek, New Castle County; in 1719 four hun 
 dred acres more "cleared by purchase"; and later 184 acres in 
 Christiana Hundred. For the original survey see the Taylor 
 Papers, New Castle County Warrants and Surveys, in the archives 
 of the Pennsylvania Historical Society, Philadelphia. In the 
 main my account of the Bird and Van Leuvenigh families is based 
 on genealogical tables owned by Mrs. John Struthers of Phila 
 delphia, a niece of Dr. Bird. 
 
BIRTH AND PARENTAGE 3 
 
 wine Hundred, and passed their quiet lives upon 
 its rolling uplands. Their bones rest in the quaint 
 graveyard of Old Swedes Church, Wilmington. 1 
 John Bird 3d, great-grandson of Thomas and 
 father of Robert Montgomery, was born in Brandy- 
 wine Hundred, April 25, 1769, and was a man of 
 wide interests and varied ability. Although 
 associated with James Riddle, ship-chandler, at 
 New Castle, he filled numerous public appoint 
 ments and offices. In 1797 he was one of the 
 State s commissioners to fix the boundaries of New 
 Castle, and helped to survey the town, assess the 
 properties, and list the residents. In 1801 the 
 New Castle Academy was incorporated and John 
 Bird made a trustee. In 1 802 he was elected to the 
 Senate of Delaware, and from 1804 to 1809 served 
 as a State representative. He married, February, 
 1795, Elizabeth Van Leuvenigh, and died at New 
 Castle, April 12, 1810, leaving six sons and a 
 daughter. Plainly John Bird lived a life, though 
 short in years, uncommonly rich and full; a 
 prompt man of affairs, a pioneer in his home town, 
 who had helped to organize its institutions and 
 incorporate its citizenry. It is of more significance 
 in the light of his son s accomplishment, to note 
 that he was also a man of genuine literary interests. 
 He was a reading man, and knew and loved the 
 masterpieces. It is especially worthy of note that 
 
 John Bird 1st, son of Thomas, was born in 1705 and died 
 in 1754. John Bird 2d, grandson of Thomas, and grandfather 
 of Dr. Bird, was born in 1738 and died in 1776. 
 
4 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 he left a manuscript book of verse that he himself 
 composed. 
 
 The mother s stock exhibits in like degree char 
 acter and sturdy worth. God-fearing, honorable, 
 and industrious, they early became influential and 
 rich. From about 1700, also, it seems, this family 
 had resided in Delaware, for within a year of that 
 date Hendrick Van Leuvenigh, of Amsterdam, 
 left Holland, sailed to America, and settled in 
 Appoquinimink Hundred, New Castle County. 
 Here on a tract of two hundred and twenty-five 
 acres, which he named " Black Walnut Landing," 
 he lived until about 1716, leaving three sons as his 
 issue, John, Henry, and Philip. Zachariah Van 
 Leuvenigh, son of John and grandfather of Dr. 
 Bird, was one of the foremost citizens of New 
 Castle. He numbered among his friends George 
 Read, Thomas McKean, a signer of the Declara 
 tion of Independence, Chief Justice McWilliams, 
 Judge Finney, and Governor Van Dyke. In 1756 
 he was commissioned an ensign of the " Upper 
 Regiment of New Castle County," raised for ser 
 vice in the French and Indian War. In 1761 his 
 name was affixed as one of the Principal Inhabi 
 tants" of the county to a proclamation of alle 
 giance sent by the Deputy Governor and Council 
 of Pennsylvania to King George III. of England. 
 After the battle of Lexington, on April 19, 1775, 
 mounted messengers were sent throughout the 
 colonies to spread the news of victory. At New 
 Castle Zachariah Van Leuvenigh and Stephen 
 
BIRTH AND PARENTAGE 5 
 
 Spencer in behalf of the town received the missive, 
 indorsed it as proof of delivery, and sent it on its 
 way to the South. He married Ann Armitage, 
 daughter of Hon. James Armitage, May 27, 1755. 
 Both lie buried in the yard of old Immanuel 
 Church at New Castle, where throughout their 
 lives they were members. Of their children, Mary 
 married Nicholas Van Dyke, who was to count so 
 much in shaping the career of young Bird; and 
 Elizabeth, successively, John Bird 3d and the 
 Rev. Samuel Barr. 
 
 It is worth our while to examine this heritage of 
 Dr. Bird. Clearly there was nothing unusual 
 about it, except perhaps the uniformity with which 
 they possessed the fundamentals piety, enlighten 
 ment, stability, and health. John and Elizabeth 
 Bird were of a stock of people who seldom left 
 their names in history or even figured in the news 
 papers, but who passed quiet, fruitful lives in the 
 daily round of duties that lay next them. For 
 generations they had prospered and were well-to- 
 do. On both sides they had supplied their share 
 of leading citizens who struck deep roots in local 
 affairs. Socially, they were a conservative peo 
 ple ; physically at least this was true of the Birds 
 they were of the race of Anek, tall and strong 
 of frame ; and intellectually, as we have seen, alert, 
 steady, versatile, and in one case at least pos 
 sessed with definitely literary tastes. John Bird, 
 the father of Dr. Bird, found time in a crowded 
 life of affairs to read, and even to write verse. 
 
6 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 But the blessing of a father s guidance Robert 
 Montgomery Bird was not long to enjoy. In the 
 early months of the year 1810 the firm of Bird & 
 Riddle, government navy agents, met with sudden 
 and calamitous reverses ending in bankruptcy 
 and a total loss of the fortunes of both partners. 
 In consequence, on April 12, 1810, John Bird 
 suddenly died of an aneurism of the heart, leaving 
 penniless a wife and seven children. The con 
 sequences of a calamity so overwhelming can be 
 easily surmised. The immediate effect was to 
 disperse the family, which was never reunited. 
 The older boys were obliged to go where necessity 
 led them. Mrs. Bird, with her youngest son, 
 Henry, moved to humbler quarters in New Castle, 
 and later occupied for months at a time "The 
 Hermitage," a lovely countryseat of the Van Dykes 
 still to be seen a quarter of a mile west of New 
 Castle. Hers was no easy task. The War of 1812 
 was threatening and times were hard; besides in 
 those days few employments were open to women, 
 even to those of education. But a strength of 
 spirit, born of hardship and affection, enabled her 
 to provide for those who were still dependent upon 
 her until her marriage in 1815 with the man who 
 twenty years before had blessed her first union, 
 the Rev. Samuel Barr. Robert Montgomery 
 Bird, then four years old, went into the home of his 
 uncle, the Hon. Nicholas Van Dyke of New Castle. 
 
 In his new surroundings, young Bird was very 
 far from unfortunate. The Van Dyke family 
 
BIRTH AND PARENTAGE 7 
 
 was one of the oldest, ablest, and stateliest in 
 Delaware. Nicholas Van Dyke, senior, had been 
 a member of the Council of Safety in 1776, had 
 helped to frame the Constitution of Delaware, and 
 was President of the State from 1783 to 1786. His 
 son, with whom Bird now made his home, was simi 
 larly a man of note. Educated at Nassau Hall, 
 he early won distinction at the bar, had served his 
 State in its legislature, and was successively a 
 member of the House and the Senate at Washing 
 ton in 1809 and 1817. General Lafayette counted 
 him "one of the first statesmen in rank whom he 
 knew in America." He was a man of stern in 
 tegrity, with views on education and religion that 
 bordered on the severe. A jurist and a statesman 
 of large experience, he was probably, too, an elo 
 quent and incisive talker. And what of the guests 
 that came to dine or spend the night? Many 
 must have been the lawyers and men of affairs who 
 dropped in frequently in busy talk about state 
 matters. To an alert, docile boy like Bird such 
 association must have been most powerfully 
 stimulating and directive. In any case he now 
 acquired a habit of industry and a love of reading 
 that lasted throughout his life. His character, too, 
 was confirmed in the ways of honor. Mr. Van 
 Dyke being a ruling elder and an active member of 
 the Presbyterian Church, it may be supposed that 
 Bird, with the rest of the family, was brought up 
 strictly to habits of church attendance. 
 
 Nor was his new environment either bleak or 
 
8 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 colorless. Dorcas Van Dyke, a pretty, sympa 
 thetic girl of his own years, became his confidante 
 and advocate and from the comradeship there 
 flowed to each a permanently ennobling influence. 
 Her character, years afterward, he lovingly set 
 forth in Nanna Howard, in The Adventures of 
 Robin Day. The account depicts, of course, a 
 later stage of their friendship, which, however, had 
 its beginnings at this time. 1 "The development 
 of her faculties," runs the narrative, "her rapid 
 advance in beauty, grace, sweetness of disposition, 
 in everything that could warm the heart and 
 influence the pride of a doting father were indeed 
 surprising ; and at the time of which I speak that 
 is when I had reached what was supposed to be 
 the verge of my eighteenth year she was a 
 creature, being nearly fifteen years old, whom no 
 one could look upon without interest or imagina 
 tion. , She was the loveliest of creatures; and I, 
 who had grown to regard her and to call her a 
 sister, was as proud of her beauty as was my pa 
 tron, her father himself. ... It could not be 
 otherwise than that such a being with whom my 
 daily and hourly intercourse was that of a brother, 
 should sooner or later exercise a strong and happy 
 influence, even without knowing it herself, over 
 both my manners and my feelings; and it is to the 
 
 1 Chapter IX. According to Dr. Bird s wife, Mrs. Mary Bird, 
 The Adventures of Robin Day is autobiographical in several chap 
 ters, especially those narrating the youth and education of Robin 
 Day. 
 
BIRTH AND PARENTAGE 9 
 
 commencement of that influence, more than to the 
 remonstrance of my patron, that I date the first 
 improvement in both. So true is it that the silent, 
 and even unsuspected influence of woman sways 
 the heart more strongly to virtue and manliness 
 than the wisest admonitions of the sages. " When 
 she was married years afterward on Oct. 6, 1824, 
 to Charles Irenee Du Pont, Lafayette, then visit 
 ing America, graciously honored the occasion with 
 his presence, occupying an elevated seat, where 
 through doors and windows kept open for the 
 purpose, the citizens of New Castle viewed both 
 him and the ceremony. x 
 
 From these early years Bird gave hints of rich 
 promise, and yet he was not abnormal or eccentric. 
 He had what has been termed a * successful child 
 hood, " going the rounds of fun and mishap eagerly, 
 honestly, and pugnaciously. His wife s account 
 describes him as a spirited, exuberant boy, with 
 even more than the usual push of youth, a leader 
 at cricket, a lover of adventure, and a crack at a 
 bout or a tussle. 2 Once with another young ex 
 plorer, it seems, he barely missed drowning on a 
 drifting ice floe in a bight of the Delaware off New 
 Castle. The scenes of the Brandy wine, near which 
 Mrs. Bird lived for a time, lay at hand rich in 
 
 1 American Historical Register, vol. iii., p. 634. 
 
 2 Mrs. Bird left a manuscript sketch of her husband s life 
 numbering eighty -odd pages, presented with the Bird Papers to 
 the Library of the University of Pennsylvania by the grandson 
 of Dr. Bird, Mr. Robert M. Bird, of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. 
 
io LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 historic beauty; while the ruins of the old Dutch 
 town, New Amstel, supplied him with endless 
 tales of ghosts and haunted houses. Here was a 
 life in the open, not dull enough to stifle, yet health 
 fully free from the rush and irritation of a city. 
 Unlike the ordinary boy, Bird was extremely 
 imaginative and acutely sensitive. His imagina 
 tion, his wife relates, was the source of peculiar 
 enjoyment. His greatest pleasure was to steal 
 from all and stretch full length in his uncle s 
 garden and give full rein to that imagination 
 which had already begun to assert its supremacy. 
 This faculty, discovered and cherished in secret, 
 became the source of his most exquisite enjoyment. 
 He had been often heard to say that no actual 
 scenes displayed before his physical eyes were more 
 distinct, more detailed, or better remembered. 
 The Van Dyke home stood at the corner of Dela 
 ware and Orange streets, New Castle, and had in 
 the rear a deep, narrow garden with arbored walks 
 and flower plots. Hither he often stole to read 
 again and again with the sharp zest of childhood 
 books of adventure, travel, and history. To a 
 mind so swiftly absorptive as his, who can assess 
 the nutritive value of such reading ? 
 
 There was much, besides, in the old town of 
 New Castle itself to stir and quicken a nature fond 
 of romance. Had there actually been a choice of 
 environment, one could scarcely have been found 
 richer in history and tradition. "Like Salem 
 in New England and Charleston in the South, " 
 
BIRTH AND PARENTAGE n 
 
 New Castle has always had a flavor and distinction. 
 In colonial days it was a seat of wealth and cul 
 tivation; there dwelt the first families of Delaware, 
 the Johns, the Van Dykes, the Armitages, the 
 Stocktons, the Rodneys, and the Reads. Since 
 then its position off the main lines of traffic and the 
 swift growth of Wilmington have shut it off from 
 the commercializing effects of trades and industries. 
 In consequence it has kept to a degree the mellow 
 charm of early times. Nor is its past without its 
 stirring scenes. Near its site stood Fort Casimir, 
 built in 1631 by the Dutch, who shortly after 
 built the town of New Amstel, captured in 1664 
 by the English and renamed New Castle. At its 
 quaint court-house William Penn, upon landing in 
 America, October 28, 1682, received from the Duke 
 of York s Commissioners the symbols of ownership, 
 a key of the fort, some water, some turf, and a 
 twig. Under its main girders are heavy timber 
 pillars upon which in olden days the hands of man- 
 slaughterers were placed while the sizzling iron 
 branded them with the letters M. S. A. " until the 
 fumes filled the room. " As a port of entry and a 
 station on the old stage route between Philadelphia 
 and Baltimore, New Castle has seen many men of 
 prominence. Here Washington, supposedly, and 
 Lafayette attended notable weddings. Black 
 Hawk and Jackson have walked its streets, adding 
 each his cluster to the town s traditions. Archi 
 tecturally the town has long been of interest. 
 Nowhere in America can be found finer types of 
 
12 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 the old colonial home. The stately entrances 
 and hallways, the plain lintels cut like flat arches 
 and set flush with the wall, the beautifully turned 
 bannisters, and secret panels must all have shed 
 upon the sensitive mind of young Bird a pervasively 
 gracious influence. New Castle is a river town, 
 and from the windows of houses along the strand 
 could be seen on a level expanse of the Delaware, 
 steamers and freighters plying their silent ways, 
 as could those of the Dutch, the Swedes, and the 
 English in days of long ago. In such surroundings, 
 then, mellow with tradition and romance, Robert 
 Montgomery Bird dreamed the dreams of boyhood 
 and saw the " visions of grandeur" which pleas 
 antly lingered with him through all the years of 
 manhood. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 EDUCATION 
 
 THE only school in New Castle during Bird s 
 boyhood was New Castle Academy. The original 
 building is still a picturesque sight on the old 
 public green next to Immanuel Church. Although 
 enlarged and modernized, it remains untouched in 
 its main lines a rectangular structure of brick 
 with numerous windows, a central hall opening on 
 the walled yard behind, a quaint, divided stairway, 
 and neat sunshiny classrooms. From its incor 
 poration in 1801 John Bird had been a trustee, 
 and hither young Bird was sent for his elementary 
 schooling. 
 
 The methods of instruction at New Castle 
 Academy during Bird s attendance were singularly 
 crude and galling, and were an experience he 
 never forgot. In later years he frequently spoke 
 of the severity of this early schooling. The first 
 aim of the teacher, it seems, was to break the 
 spirit of his charges. A sympathetic sharing of 
 interests and the profit that comes of pleasure were 
 plainly things unknown. The result was a stand 
 ing challenge on the part of the pedagogue, and a 
 
 13 
 
14 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 series of organized revolts on the part of the 
 school. Though shy and docile to a degree, and 
 of a type of mind that would have drawn nutri 
 ment from the plainest fare, young Bird came in 
 for an inordinate share of "correction." Hardly 
 a day passed, his wife asserts, without its bitter 
 tally on his knuckles or his back. In some in 
 stances, it seems, this punishment amounted to 
 downright assault. The effect on the sensitive 
 nature of Bird was a feeling of abhorrence so deep 
 that one day he took an oath, on bended knee, runs 
 the record, "to kill his pursuer as soon as he was 
 old and strong enough to do so. " This threat he 
 never executed, but he paid the score as unfor 
 givably by conferring on the bully immortality. 
 In The Adventures of Robin Day he has preserved 
 M Goggin and his ways with suitable embellish 
 ments, for those who care to read. The account 
 also vividly depicts Bird s first school days. * The 
 trustees succeeded in engaging the services of a 
 person who, I verily believe, was procured for the 
 sole purpose of testing the efficacy of the brutum 
 fulmen, of subjugating us by main force; for he 
 was an illiterate, vulgar dolt, an Irishman just 
 caught, who professed, as he said himself, to teach 
 nothing but Vading, writin , rithmetic, and 
 dacent manners ; although in other respects the 
 very man the trustees wanted. His name was 
 M Goggin. He was six feet high, and limbed and 
 shouldered like a Hercules; and indeed of such 
 strength and activity, that had he been set at the 
 
EDUCATION 15 
 
 business for which he was best qualified, that is 
 canal digging, I have no doubt he would have cut 
 through the Isthmus of Panama in a month with 
 out any assistance. He had an ugly look, too, 
 about the eyes, which besides being the color of a 
 cat s, were overshadowed by a pair of brows of such 
 bigness and appearance that they looked like two 
 stuffed ratskins stuck on with glue; and his com 
 plexion was of the hue of sole-leather, plentifully 
 besprinkled with freckles of the size of half -dimes. 
 To add to his demerits, he was entirely incapable 
 of fear, and had such a natural love of a row, that, 
 when informed by the trustees of our character 
 and doings ... he rubbed his hands with 
 satisfaction, and declared we were swate little 
 devils and that we should get along very well 
 together." 
 
 This stage of Bird s career abruptly closed one 
 day when he was found by his uncle, Mr. Van 
 Dyke, in the hands of his sympathizing cousin, who 
 was dressing a bruised and lacerated back. He 
 was immediately withdrawn from school and for 
 a time allowed to read and ramble as he liked. He 
 enjoyed a freedom, it seems, that our disciplina 
 rians would have probably called neglect, and yet 
 what a wise neglect! It was a chance to grow 
 spontaneously. In any case, for a boy of Bird s 
 type, aimless play is often the richest pre-expe- 
 rience. His interests, free and unconstrained, are 
 in consequence real and vital. The imagination 
 expands to the new freedom, and self -education, 
 
1 6 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 which for the gifted is the best education, begins. 
 Thus it was with Bird. Blighting as the effects 
 of the Academy were, reading had become a 
 passion. In 1812 the New Castle Library Com 
 pany was chartered, and here he obtained books 
 of history, romance, and adventure, reading and 
 re-reading with a zest that must have made them 
 richly nutritive. Now, too, though a boy of but 
 ten or twelve, he began to play with verse and 
 actually finished, according to his wife, a long poem 
 which he hid, but which the tantalizing Dorcas 
 unearthed and read with a flourish to the Van 
 Dyke family. The experience, though it stirred 
 the mirth of Dr. Bird years after, gave pain at the 
 time, and somewhat dashed his ardor. It may 
 possibly have contributed to a distaste to be known 
 as a poet that lasted throughout his life ; for these 
 early smarts to a nature so acutely sensitive 
 were sharp and long remembered. But pleasur 
 able to a degree he never forgot were his rambles 
 through the historic scenes of the Brandywine and 
 the ruins of New Amstel, where the yellow brick 
 and coins of Holland were still occasionally picked 
 up. Here dwelt a double charm the beauty of a 
 smiling country rich in a storied past. And no 
 doubt, too, these frequent jaunts helped to give 
 the large-framed, fair-haired boy that stock of 
 bodily health which brought him at maturity an 
 astounding capacity for incessant toil. 
 
 Meanwhile, on May 31, 1818, the Reverend 
 Samuel Barr died and Bird s mother removed to 
 
EDUCATION 17 
 
 Philadelphia, where she lived with an older son, 
 James Madison Bird. In the year 1820 Robert 
 Montgomery Bird joined them, although still 
 under the guardianship of the Honorable Nicholas 
 Van Dyke, as the following letter shows: 
 
 NEW CASTLE, June 5, 1820. 
 
 DEAR NEPHEW: 
 
 I should have written to you sooner but ex 
 pected to go to Philadelphia and converse with 
 you about your brother R. M. Bird. The 
 situation of my family has prevented me from 
 leaving home and at present I see no prospect 
 of being at liberty shortly. 
 
 As your mother urged so irresistibly her claim 
 to have Montgomery with her, it has been yielded 
 to under the assurance and confidence that he 
 will be under your particular care and direction, 
 and if on any account you discover your direc 
 tions are not attended to it will be your duty 
 without reserve immediately to inform me that 
 I as standing in the place of his parent may do 
 what my judgment and regard to his welfare 
 may require. 
 
 It is essential that he be kept constantly at 
 school and that his growing habit of morning 
 indulgence be at once corrected that he may 
 receive the benefit of his school. His education 
 was at first calculated for a profession to which he 
 always expressed an inclination until I fear too 
 much indulgence last summer suffered his exer 
 tions in study to languish and his ideas changed 
 and I was pained to learn from his mother that 
 he could not pursue a profession, but would 
 prefer, some other business. 
 
1 8 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 The intelligence changed entirely my course 
 and since that time he has been employed at 
 English School. But his attainments I find are 
 yet far below my wishes even for the mechanical 
 business and I therefore direct that he be placed 
 at some good school to be taught again, arith 
 metic, geography and some branches of mathe 
 matics with English grammar and writing. He 
 should also be occasionally exercised in spelling 
 as every scholar should be an adept in that part 
 of education. As his father was an Episcopalian 
 you must have him taught the church catechism 
 and I particularly request that he may attend 
 some place of worship on the Sabbath. No ex 
 cuse is to be received for his being out late in 
 the evenings, for bad company which is the bane 
 of youth is almost entirely formed in such a 
 habit. Much instruction and improvement may 
 be derived by reading in the evenings and I 
 hope his taste in that amusement will be cul 
 tivated. As I am not authorized to indulge in 
 any extravagance as to dress, I request that the 
 utmost economy be consulted in furnishing his 
 supplies, good plain clothes being all that boys 
 require. 
 
 In giving you these instructions I hope for 
 your special attention to the interest of your 
 brother and I shall be much gratified if you can 
 make any arrangement for assuming the duty 
 which is now imposed on your uncle. 
 
 Ns. VAN DYKE. 
 To MR. JAMES BIRD. 
 
 This letter throws an interesting light on the 
 boy s life at the time. He was apparently living 
 with his mother and a twenty-three-year-old 
 
EDUCATION 19 
 
 brother, James Madison Bird, but was still under 
 the guardianship of Nicholas Van Dyke, a man, 
 it is pretty plain, who would have no nonsense. 
 It seems, too, that he was addressed commonly as 
 Montgomery, or as it occurs elsewhere, Monte 
 Bird. One s sympathy instinctively goes out to 
 the lad who found early rising a bit irksome. 
 Hard afternoons at cricket and a growing boy of 
 fourteen are circumstances that readily account for 
 the fact, and a neglect of geography and spelling 
 as well. He was to be kept in at nights ; dressed in 
 plain clothes, but good; and confirmed in the 
 church of his father, the Episcopalian. 
 
 In Philadelphia young Bird enrolled in a school 
 kept by a Mr. Pardon Davis, and again, it seems, 
 without serious intellectual damage. The teach 
 er s name, according to his wife, was the only last 
 ing impression. But it was very different with the 
 drawing-school he attended in the neighborhood of 
 Fourth and Chestnut Streets, under the manage 
 ment of a Mr. Coxe. Jemmy Coxe, as he was 
 affectionately known, apparently had the gift, 
 priceless to a teacher, of making his students share 
 his enthusiasm. He had a sharp eye for their hid 
 den strength and idiosyncracies and encouraged 
 them to develop naturally along their line of 
 talent. A genuine lover of boys, he invited them 
 on Saturday afternoons to his home, regaled them 
 with endless yarns, and allowed them to rummage 
 his cases of curios, picked up from land and sea. 
 That Montgomery was a golden child he quickly 
 
20 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 perceived and counted him a favorite. He took 
 him on sketching tours and allowed him assign 
 ments beyond his strength in order to stir his 
 effort. Under this instruction Bird gained a 
 facility with the pencil he employed throughout 
 his life. A number of plain and colored sketches 
 dating from this time are extant that exhibit to 
 a degree accuracy, boldness, and smoothness of 
 workmanship. 
 
 Within a year, however, Bird left Philadelphia, 
 returned to New Castle, and again enrolled at the 
 Academy with the aim of preparing for college. 
 Of his progress no reports remain, but two old 
 manuscripts in his boyish hand richly deserve 
 mention. One of them is a composition book, 
 written, from the allusions it contains, while he 
 was yet living in New Castle. It comprises five 
 short themes on various subjects "Effects of 
 the Late Storm," "The Bell of Justice," "The 
 Life of My Puss," "Anecdotes of the Grecian 
 Philosophers," "Anecdotes of the Roman Em 
 perors. There is an Indian story in six parts called 
 "The Whitewashed Cottage of the Susquehanna." 
 Although plainly the work of childhood, there is 
 about this work an ease, accuracy, and invention 
 that bespeak the natural gift. There is evidently 
 an inward delight in the thing, and a directness of 
 phrase that is inevitable. The other manuscript is 
 a "Rhetoric" signed "Robert M. Bird, New Castle, 
 Del. A.D. 1822, " and is a compendium of the sub 
 ject abstracted from books or lectures. Bird s 
 
EDUCATION 21 
 
 schooling in the use of language, such as it was, was 
 surely not without its value, and its effects may 
 possibly be found by the ingenious in the effective 
 descriptions of Calavar and The Infidel. But 
 more enrichment must have come from the pranks 
 and frolics of boyhood and his frank intercourse 
 with many men and things. In the play of a 
 creatively observant mind upon men in action lies 
 the writer s chief equipment. Life is his diction 
 ary and grammar as well. There it is he finds his 
 phrases in the sports, in the trades and crafts, 
 in the arts and sciences, in the work yard, and the 
 mill. And young Bird, who was so keen a partici 
 pant in the life about him, must have early ab 
 sorbed an abundance of such nutriment. 
 
 In the meanwhile it was settled that Bird 
 should enter a profession; which one was still 
 undetermined. In any case a course at college 
 was imperative and to prepare he moved to Ger 
 man town in 1823 to attend the German town 
 Academy. In 1820 German town Academy had 
 entered a period of growth up to that date un 
 matched in its history. In October of that year 
 John M. Brewer, a graduate of Harvard in the class 
 of 1804, was elected principal at a salary of twelve 
 hundred dollars a year. In return for this, the 
 largest salary the Academy had yet paid, Brewer 
 "engaged to take upon himself the moral govern 
 ment of the pupils as well in the hour of relaxation 
 as in those devoted to study. " He introduced a 
 system of rules "based upon the laws which 
 
22 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 govern Harvard College in Cambridge, " conspicu 
 ous among which were the stress put upon a study 
 of the Scriptures, Sunday attendance at worship, 
 and the public examinations and exhibitions held 
 during the terms. In 1820 there were thirteen 
 students in the upper school and forty-two in the 
 English school. In 1821 Brewer was succeeded by 
 Walter R. Johnson, who more than any teacher 
 Bird had, helped to shape his aims and character ; 
 and it may be added, became a lifelong friend. 
 Also a graduate of Harvard, Johnson had taught 
 school at Farmingham and Salem, Massachusetts, 
 before coming to German town, where he became 
 a progressive in educational reform. He led the 
 cause of higher schools in Pennsylvania, wrote 
 numerous articles on the establishment of normal 
 schools, and brought about in large part the 
 Pennsylvania School Law of 1834. He was later 
 associated with Bird on the faculty of the Penn 
 sylvania Medical College, and at his death in 1852 
 was Chemist of the Smithsonian Institution. * 
 
 Walter Johnson was just the teacher for a boy- 
 keen, virile, enthusiastic and under his direction 
 Bird made swift advancement. Within a year of 
 entrance he was given the following certificate, 
 written by Johnson himself, in a frank hand and 
 old-fashioned spelling : 
 
 Academy at Germantown, Aug. 12, 1824. This 
 certifies that Robert Montgomery Bird of New 
 
 *A History of the Germantown Academy, Philadelphia, 1910, 
 chapter xi. 
 
EDUCATION 23 
 
 Castle in the State of Delaware has been for 
 one year under my instruction as a student in 
 this Academy and that during this period he has 
 attended to the following branches of study viz : 
 of the Latin Classicks Horace and Cicero de 
 Republica; of Greek Classicks, Graeca Minora 
 and Homer s Iliad; Mathematics, Euler s Alge 
 bra and Legendre s Geometry; Elements of 
 Logick ; Stewarts Philosophy of Mind ; Elements 
 of Chemistry ; English Composition in prose and 
 verse and translations into Greek and Latin 
 Languages. His general deportment has been 
 correct and exemplary, his habits of study unex 
 ceptionable and he this day leaves the institu 
 tion with a distinguished literary rank among his 
 fellow-students. 
 
 WALTER R. JOHNSON, Principal. 1 
 
 This "distinguished literary rank" Bird de 
 served in no merely academic sense, for he was 
 already placing his verse in local periodicals. A 
 poem is said to have been written, his wife states, 
 "at the age of seventeen and Dr. Black has seen 
 verses in a newspaper when he was about twenty 
 that he acknowledged to be his. By comparison 
 of the manuscript with letters it is probable some 
 of the pieces published afterward in Snowderfs 
 New Monthly Magazine were written at this early 
 date, for his handwriting was very inferior to what 
 it became some years later when it obtained the 
 character that distinguished it. " 
 
 1 See the Bird Papers, Library of the University of Pennsyl 
 vania. 
 
24 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 During the year at Germantown Bird had settled 
 the matter of a career and chosen mgdicine. 
 Accordingly, in August of 1824, he removed to 
 Philadelphia and took rooms with a Mrs. Allen, 
 Number 62 South Sixth Street. Here, it chanced, 
 a young student from Kentucky by the name of 
 Black had also taken quarters. Of like profession 
 and tastes, an enriching intimacy formed that 
 lasted throughout their lives. Years after, in 
 March of 1854, Dr. Black thus described to Mrs. 
 Bird his friend s appearance at the time. "R. 
 M. Bird was then eighteen. His appearance was 
 very prepossessing. He was tall, slender, very 
 fair and youthful looking, and had a Byronic cast 
 of countenance. He had written a good deal of 
 poetry and some verses he [Black] saw that had 
 been published a year before without his name. " 
 The summer of 1824 found Bird with a number of 
 other young students in the office of Dr. Joseph 
 Parrish, the well-known Quaker physician and 
 friend of Whittier, who launched on their career 
 so many young doctors of the day. He also en 
 tered a druggist shop for further practical drill. 
 In the fall of 1824 Bird matriculated in the Medical 
 School of the University of Pennsylvania and at 
 the College of Pharmacy. The preservation of all 
 his course cards enables us to track him through 
 his entire course under Dr. John Redman Coxe 
 in Materia Medica, Dr. Philip Syng Physick and 
 Dean Horner in Anatomy, Dr. Robert Hare in 
 Chemistry, Drs. William Gibson and George 
 
EDUCATION 25 
 
 McClellan in Surgery, Drs. James and Dewees in 
 Midwifery, and Dr. Chapman in Clinical Practice. 
 It was while a matriculate at the University 
 that Bird may be said to have begun his career of 
 authorship. Doing most easily what he did best, 
 he compassed, in addition to the work of the course, 
 a surprising amount of reading and writing. Two 
 large quarto books dated 1826 and 1827 attest the 
 range and thoroughness of his reading. In them 
 are copious quotations and summaries from the 
 works of some twenty-five Latin, English, and 
 American writers. A striking line or favorite 
 verse he copied off; while the plays, chiefly Eliza 
 bethan, he summarized and reviewed. He was 
 very frank in criticism where he thought criticism 
 was due. The Maid s Tragedy, of Beaumont and 
 Fletcher, for instance, he thinks " ill-digested and 
 unsatisfactory. The characters are insufficiently 
 developed; the incidents made little of; and 
 the sentiments carelessly and tamely expressed. 
 Everything wants point ; nothing is made the most 
 of; and despite the commendations of the editors, 
 I look upon this play as highly defective, neglect 
 fully written, and, in general, inferior to most of 
 Massinger s plays." Philaster, he considers "in 
 many respects a very excellent play." Of The 
 Beggar s Bush he says, "This is a busy plot, and 
 well managed though not half so well as it de 
 serves. There are few striking scenes, a poor, 
 tame, and neglected Dialogue. There is something 
 comical in the beggar s election, and the speech of 
 
26 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 their orator, Aiggen, and of Bigg, a candidate, who 
 promises to be a tyrant if they choose him. " And 
 so he goes on with twenty-four other Elizabethan 
 plays. Besides this reading he was also planning 
 works of his own. In the earlier book of 1826! 
 find a list of fifteen subjects for short poems, of 
 which at least two, Saul s Last Day and The Death 
 of Meleager, were completed by 1827 and published 
 in November and December of that year, with 
 other of his verse, in The Philadelphia Monthly 
 Magazine. A total of seven poems appeared in the 
 same periodical within three months, October, 
 November, and December. A manuscript tragedy 
 in five acts, entitled The Cowled Lover, is dated 
 June, 1827; another, Caridorf, or The Avenger, 
 August, 1827. To this year also belongs a manu 
 script comedy, with its scene in Philadelphia, en 
 titled News of the Night; an incomplete domestic 
 comedy, Twas All for the Best; and possibly other 
 fragments. A consideration of these plays will be 
 given along with that of his other apprentice work. 
 Deserving mention, too, are Bird s student 
 friendships, for with them his earlier novels have 
 a close concern. Through Dr. Black, Bird met 
 another young Kentuckian by the name of John 
 Grimes, who was an enthusiastic student of art. 
 The three took together many jaunts, challenged 
 each other s views, and shared friendly rivalries. 
 On one of these walks along the Wissahickon, 
 according to Mrs. Bird, Dr. Black related a 
 Kentucky story the power of which greatly struck 
 
EDUCATION 27 
 
 Bird. He noted it, visited the scene on his trips 
 west, and later used it as the basis of his romance, 
 Nick of the Woods. Twice he made visits to the 
 Delaware Water Gap, the second time in June of 
 1827 with Black and Grimes. Here they camped, 
 rambled, and sketched. Among the friends they 
 made was a young artist of the day by the name of 
 Birch, and between them all a friendly sketching 
 bout ensued. This region and these episodes he 
 incorporated in his novel, The Hawks of Hawk s 
 Hollow. 
 
 On April 6, 1827, the Medical School of the 
 University of Pennsylvania graduated a class of 
 131 in Musical Fund Hall, Philadelphia. Among 
 them was Robert Montgomery Bird of the State 
 of Delaware, who wrote for a thesis a treatise 
 on consumption entitled Phthisis Pulmonalis. A 
 minute study of its contents belongs to the history 
 of medicine, not of literature. That Bird should 
 have shared the superstitions of his time is to be 
 expected, and, in this respect, he is neither better 
 nor worse than his age. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 APPRENTICESHIP AND FIRST SUCCESS, THE 
 
 GLADIATOR" 
 
 AFTER graduation Dr. Bird at once set up as a 
 practitioner and opened an office on Thirteenth 
 Street above Pine, Philadelphia. In those days 
 this section was more rural and open than now, and 
 from his office he could see directly opposite the 
 Deaf and Dumb Asylum on Broad Street, since 
 made a school of Industrial Art. Dr. Bird, we are 
 told, soon won a practice that would have brought 
 him early success, but from the first the physician s 
 life irked him. He disliked its narrowed interests. 
 The constant sight of disease and pain he could not 
 always aid, rasped his sympathies. Besides, he 
 had convictions absurd he at times acknowledged 
 himself on the subject of fees; to take them, he 
 felt, was to sell his humanity. Accordingly he 
 kept no case-book, refused to charge, and gave 
 away drugs. But more urgent than all was his 
 call to the profession of letters, which had already 
 usurped his chief ambitions. In consequence 
 within a year he closed his office and relinquished 
 the practice of medicine, which he never resumed, 
 
 28 
 
FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 29 
 
 although he became in later life a prominent 
 teacher and lecturer. J 
 
 It is of interest to review the prospects of a 
 professional litterateur, and of the professional 
 dramatist in particular, at the time Bird embraced 
 the career, that is, about 1825. Certainly for a 
 young man of twenty-two without large private 
 means, the step meant heavy risks. Letters as a 
 profession, it is to be remembered, was just strug 
 gling into existence, hampered on the one hand by 
 inadequate copyright laws, and on the other by an 
 apathy on the part of the public generally toward 
 American authorship. It is well known how the 
 absence of international copyright worked hard 
 ship on writers both at home and abroad. Amer 
 ican books were pirated in England, English books 
 in America ; and were sold at the cheapest possible 
 rates because their authors had not been paid. 
 The disadvantage to the American writer was the 
 greater because of the prestige of English author 
 ship. " When American readers," says Brander 
 Matthews, "could get a novel of Scott s or of 
 Dickens s for a quarter they felt less inclined to 
 pay a dollar for a novel of Cooper s or Hawthorne s. 
 And the same premium of cheapness tended to 
 increase the sale of Tennyson and to decrease the 
 sale of Longfellow and of Poe. The British author 
 had at least his home market, whereas the Amer 
 ican author found his home market pre-empted by 
 
 1 See MS. Life of Dr. Bird by his wife, Bird Papers, Library of 
 University of Pennsylvania. 
 
30 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 the foreigner." In consequence, men of letters 
 generally were forced to supplementary means of 
 a livelihood ; Longfellow and Lowell to teaching, 
 Emerson to lecturing, and Hawthorne to public 
 service. Besides, American authors were by no 
 means received at home as they deserved. There 
 was a servility to English opinion on the part of 
 the critics and especially of the cultivated element 
 that read. Among the latter was a class that 
 judged it a reflection on their tastes to give to 
 native productions a warm approval. The foreign 
 stamp was almost the only means of giving to a 
 book a more than merely local currency. Emerson 
 wrote in his Journal, June 18, 1834, "We lean on 
 England ; scarce a verse, a page, a newspaper, but 
 is writ in imitation of English forms; our very 
 manners and conversation are traditional, and 
 sometimes the life seems dying out of all literature, 
 and this enormous paper currency of Words is 
 accepted instead." In the words of Professor 
 Lounsbury, we had become "a race of literary 
 cowards and parasites. " * 
 
 For the playwright these obstacles presented 
 themselves in double measure. The author of a 
 romance or a book of essays had at home at least 
 the protection and the satisfaction of the printed 
 volume. His name was on the title-page, a war 
 rant, in a way, of his ownership. But the drama 
 tist had nothing of the sort. After writing his 
 play, he confined it in manuscript to a single actor 
 
 1 Life of Cooper, pp. 18-19. 
 
FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 31 
 
 or manager, who "settled" for it in any way the 
 parties agreed. In Bird s case we know, and in 
 others presumably, these agreements were most 
 careless and unbusinesslike. In some cases copies 
 were made from stolen and mutilated versions of 
 the original, and given by other companies without 
 either the consent or remuneration of the author. x 
 There was of course no law in the matter to define 
 an author s or actor s rights in a play. And yet, 
 unsatisfactory as the situation was, publication 
 was even less desirable. Once printed, a play 
 passed out of the author s control entirely. And 
 there was nothing to prevent any who saw fit from 
 presenting it as often as they liked. Joseph S. 
 Jones, a dramatist of the time, gives as one of his 
 objections to the publication of his plays "that by 
 publication I lost my ownership, copyright giving 
 no protection against representation on the stage. 
 Of course this meant that most of the profits from 
 the drama went to the actors and managers, since 
 the only property of any real value in a play lay in 
 representation. The situation was made still worse 
 by the circumstances already mentioned the 
 absence of international copyright and a deference 
 to foreign art. Even more than fiction, foreign 
 drama was in demand by the public. Furthermore, 
 it could be given with less expense, since again 
 there was no author to pay. William Dunlap 
 years before found it more lucrative and not less 
 respectable to translate or adapt foreign plays 
 
 1 See J. S. Jones, Moll Pitcher, Letter from the Author. 
 
32 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 than to write original ones. He frankly made it 
 his business to provide the American stage with 
 English, French, and German novelities. Such 
 then were some of the outer aspects of the profes 
 sion Bird was now about to enter. 
 
 In order to have the ease and comfort of home, 
 he rented with two of his brothers, John and 
 Thomas, a house at 151 South Tenth Street, 
 Philadelphia, over which their mother was asked to 
 preside. Thomas Jefferson Bird deserves mention 
 perhaps for his own sake as well as his brother s. 
 Born five years before Dr. Bird, he early went to 
 sea as a seaman. At the time he made his home 
 with his brothers he was commander of a packet - 
 ship of the Walker line, plying between American 
 ports and Liverpool. His skill as a mariner was 
 proverbial. There was a common saying on the 
 lips of his crew that he managed his vessel "with 
 the fear of the Lord and a broomstick," in allusion 
 to his piety, order, and cleanliness. To him in 
 later life his brother turned again and again for 
 succor that was ever most kindly given. Thus 
 settled, then, with his two brothers and mother, 
 Bird began a course of the severest study. He 
 read widely and critically in English, French, and 
 Spanish literature. The history and geography of 
 Spanish America were objects of special research, 
 possibly with a view to his earlier romances. He 
 made numerous maps and sketches of cities, battle 
 grounds, costumes, and so on. A large notebook of 
 extracts and summaries dated Feby . 1 828 " attests 
 
FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 33 
 
 the range and thoroughness of this reading. Ton- 
 sard s A merican A r tiller is ts Companion, Ramsay s 
 South Carolina, Calef s More Wonders of the In 
 visible World, Josselyn s New England Rarities Dis 
 covered in Birds, Beasts, etc., Marshall s American 
 Revolution, are a few typical books thus abstracted. 
 And with the candor of youth he blocked out his 
 career on a grand scale. According to Henry D. 
 Bird, Dr. Bird in 1828 sketched a plan according to 
 which he was to begin as a dramatist, to continue 
 with a series of romances, and to devote his later 
 years to history. Fifty-five plays besides a num 
 ber of romances and stories, were projected. Of 
 course, the plan is of no deep significance; literature 
 is seldom written that way. It is simply proof of 
 the sweep of Bird s early ambition. 
 
 While a medical student, we noticed, Bird had 
 been busily engaged with the pen, and had finished 
 three plays and much verse, of which seven pieces 
 were published in The Philadelphia Monthly Maga 
 zine from October to December of 1827. To this 
 periodical he continued to send work. The 
 January number contains a prose tale and a poem ; 
 the May number another story; while between 
 July and September six poems appear. By July, 
 1828, he had completed another five-act comedy, 
 with its scene in Philadelphia, entitled The City 
 Looking Glass. In a prefatory note to the piece 
 he says, "When I commenced the following sheets 
 it was my intention to have written a dissertation 
 upon rascals. ... I soon turned my eyes to the 
 
34 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 remaining and perhaps the greater portion of 
 Society, the fools, as personages remarkably well 
 suited to shine as inferior and episodic characters 
 in my dissertation." At the time he was also 
 engaged on The Volunteers. On July 14, 1828, he 
 wrote to his brother Henry, "Yesterday I found 
 myself on the Brandywine Battle Ground. It was 
 a good thing for me to be there; for besides de 
 lighting me with beautiful scenery it renewed in me 
 the desire to go on with The Volunteers, and fur 
 nished me with many hints and clues for my story." 
 Belonging to this year and the next is a mass of un 
 finished plays and stories, including two complete 
 acts of a tragedy called Giannone, the dramatis 
 personae, outlines of plots, and scraps of dialogue 
 from at least three other dramas Isidora, or The 
 Three Dukes, King Philip, or The Sagamore, and 
 The Fanatick. There is the portion of a story 
 called Men of Hills, and much fragmentary verse. 
 Taken as a whole, this apprentice work of Bird s 
 hardly admits of a difference of opinion. It is 
 frankly without special merit. However, as the 
 work of scarcely more than an undergraduate all 
 of it was written before he was twenty-three it 
 is very far from unpromising. The verse is imi 
 tative of course, but shows grace, variety, and 
 metrical skill. The lines are simply built; occa 
 sionally they rise to the level of beauty. For the 
 bulk of it Bird s most enthusiastic admirer can 
 hardly claim more. Originality, the illumining 
 phrase, the "great accent," even marked beauty 
 
/ 
 
 FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 35 
 
 it does not have. Its best can be easily matched 
 in any book of college verse. The prose tales have 
 little more intrinsic worth than the verse, although 
 more characteristic of his later work. In The 
 Spirit of the Reeds and The Ice-Island there is a 
 suggestion of the facile prose and realism that wins 
 the reader of Calavar and The Infidel. Realism 
 it is rather than reality, because the stories of Dr. 
 Bird much more concern the outer, material detail 
 of action and circumstance than the inner play of 
 motive and feeling that constitutes so true a part 
 of reality. Of this early work it is the dramas that 
 give most promise of what was to come. For a 
 youth of less than twenty-three Caridorf, Tis 
 All -for the Best, The Cowled Lover, and The City 
 Looking Glass are remarkable productions. They 
 are large, substantial plays with numerous char 
 acters and involved plots, that knot and solve with 
 much naturalness. Even more successful is 
 the spontaneous, clever dialogue. The occasional 
 scraps of blank verse show flexibility and ease. 
 Of course, the plays are full of echoes and not 
 without obvious crudities. The dialogue is fre 
 quently too long, the dramatic foreshadowing too 
 marked, the action unwieldy and halting. But 
 taken as a whole, the work is a worthy promise of 
 the greater things to come. 
 
 It has been noted that the majority of actors and 
 managers of that day frankly found it to their 
 interests to produce foreign plays that were cer 
 tain to take and cost nothing rather than to risk 
 
36 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 native drama the authors of which had to be paid. 
 There was one notable exception, who in 1828 gave 
 to native playwrights a splendid chance to win 
 their spurs. Edwin Forrest, the tragedian, was 
 then twenty-two years of age; he had passed a 
 rough-and-tumble apprenticeship as a strolling 
 player through the South and West ; but had al 
 ready made a reputation and considerable money 
 on the stage. He was one of the first Americans to 
 perceive and regret the utter lack of a native dra 
 matic literature, a lack he assigned solely to a want 
 of encouragement. Unlike other managers and 
 actors who frankly avoided the risk of producing 
 American plays, Forrest determined to encourage 
 native playwrights and thus to secure original 
 rdles which should be exclusively his own. Pos 
 sibly it is true also, as some have charged, he 
 wished to get plays cheaply. In any case he be 
 gan to offer a series of prizes ranging from five 
 hundred dollars to three thousand dollars as an 
 inducement to aspiring dramatists. The first 
 announcement of the offer he sent to his friend 
 William Leggett, who published it in The Critic 
 of November 22, 1828. "To the author," it ran, 
 "of the best tragedy in five acts, of which the hero 
 or principal character shall be an original of this 
 country, the sum of five hundred dollars and half 
 the proceeds of the third representation, with my 
 own gratuitous service on that occasion. The 
 award to be made by a committee of literary and 
 theatrical gentlemen." The committee Forrest 
 
FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 37 
 
 picked was composed of William Cullen Bryant, 
 Fitz- Greene Halleck, James Lawson, William Leg- 
 gett, Prosper M. Wetmore, and J. G. Brooks. The 
 first offer brought forth fourteen plays, the prize 
 going to John Augustus Stone of Philadelphia 
 for Metamora, or The Last of the Wamponoags. 
 Afterward at intervals Forrest offered similar 
 or larger premiums, securing in all about two 
 hundred plays. Of these, nine drew prizes, 
 were successfully staged, and have become per 
 manently identified with the history of American 
 drama. 
 
 Of the nine prize plays thus obtained by Forrest, 
 Robert Montgomery Bird wrote four, Pelopidas, 
 The Gladiator, Oralloossa, and The Broker of 
 Bogota. Pelopidas, or The Fall of the Polemarchs, 
 finished in the fall of 1 830, is a blank verse tragedy 
 in five acts on a theme from Greek history. Pelo 
 pidas, the famous Theban general, with a band 
 of fellow-conspirators enters Thebes at nightfall, 
 where the ruling magistrates who had betrayed 
 their city to the Spartans are banqueting. He 
 surprises them, slays with his own hand Leonidas, 
 their leader, and thus brings again democracy 
 to Thebes. Forrest s acceptance of Pelopidas is 
 in a way a proof of its worth. At the same time 
 the changes he jotted down and sent to Bird make 
 an excellent critique of the play. There ought to 
 be, he thought, "a little more incident," more 
 "bustling," "more action" in the first three 
 acts. The speeches of Philadas and Archias, 
 
38 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 Forrest judged "too long," and of Philip "much 
 too long." Act III., he went on, required "a 
 better climax," for "there is yet no action"; 
 Acts IV. and V. are to "remain as they are." 
 Finally, Forrest suggested that Pelopidas should 
 end it quickly"; otherwise, he fears, " twill be 
 dull." 
 
 Though accepted by Forrest and counted by 
 Bird himself his best play, Pelopidas was never 
 staged, since before its production Bird had finished 
 another prize play that apparently better suited 
 Forrest s purposes. How to name the new piece 
 puzzled him. In a letter dated December 31, 
 1830, his brother Henry, whom he presumably 
 consulted, advises him to * stick to The Gladiator. 
 It is not only a captivating but popular name, and 
 a character altogether more suited to Forrest s 
 Roman figure and actions." The play was com 
 pleted by April, 1831 , and accepted at once accord 
 ing to the following letter : 
 
 MY DEAR SIR : 
 
 The MS of The Gladiator came duly to hand 
 with your letter of ist instant. I think there 
 can be no reasonable objections against produc 
 ing your play in June, say, about the 2Oth if 
 you think otherwise I will be control d entirely 
 by your directions and order a postponement 
 of the same until the fall season. In my mind 
 The Gladiator must prove victorious winter or 
 summer to be sure he would not "groan and 
 sweat" so much in cooler weather, but that will 
 be his task not yours. 
 
FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 39 
 
 I shall be in Philada. about the close of next 
 week when we may discourse fully upon this 
 subject. 
 
 Caius Marius on Monday 
 Evening next. Yours sincerely, 
 
 EDWIN FORREST. 
 N. York, 6th May, 1831 
 ROBERT M. BIRD, ESQ., 
 New Castle, Delaware. 
 
 The Gladiator was thus the occasion of Dr. Bird s 
 introduction to Edwin Forrest. They met, we 
 are told, in the office of Dr. Black, who with Dr. 
 George McClellan, the well-known physician, and 
 father of one of New Jersey s governors, conducted 
 the negotiations. The details of the agreement 
 are stated fully elsewhere. Suffice it to say in 
 passing that for this play, which Forrest gave 
 upwards of a thousand times during the author s 
 life and made a fortune from, Dr. Bird received 
 a single payment of one thousand dollars. x 
 
 The Gladiator was first performed on September 
 26, 1831, at the Park Theater, New York. The 
 principal parts of Phasarius and Senona were 
 taken respectively by Mr. Barry and Mrs. Sharpe, 
 Forrest himself acting Spartacus, the hero. In a 
 personal diary of remarkable interest entitled 
 Secret Records, Bird has left an account of this 
 performance. 
 
 1 George H. Boker, the dramatist, once said, "If Dr. Bird had 
 managed rightly about The Gladiator, he would have died a rich 
 man." Historical and Biographical Encyclopedia of Delaware, 
 P- 317. 
 
40 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 Sept. 26th at the Park Theatre, New York, 
 The Gladiator was performed for the first time. 
 That evening there fell such torrents of rain as 
 had not visited New York for 15 or 20 years. 
 Nevertheless, the house was crammed, the 
 amount being about 1400 dols. The Park 
 Company is the most wretched in the country. 
 . . . There never was a play more miserably 
 got up, old dresses, old scenes, many of them full 
 of absurdities and to crown all, the performers 
 with but two exceptions were horribly imperfect. 
 If there had been a wish among the managers to 
 have the play damned they could not have taken 
 a better course. . . . Next morning Mr. 
 Webbe, of the Courier and Inquirer, made a 
 savage attack upon the piece, saying it was 
 damned. ... I wonder if Mr. Webbe under 
 stands the meaning of the phrase "to thrust 
 an iron into one s soul." . . The Gladiator 
 was enacted 4 times in New York to good houses ; 
 and was more and more applauded every suc 
 cessive night. 
 
 The play first appeared in Philadelphia at the Arch 
 Street Theater, October 24th of the same year, 
 with Mr. Forrest and Mr. J. R. Scott in the roles 
 of Spartacus and Phasarius. Under that date in 
 the Secret Records is the following entry : 
 
 Oct. 24th was its first night in Philadelphia. 
 The jam of visitors was tremendous; hundreds 
 retiring without being able to get seats or stands. 
 An American feeling was beginning to show itself 
 in the theatrical matters. The managers of the 
 Arch St. Theatre were Americans, all the chief 
 performers were Americans and the play was 
 
FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 41 
 
 written by an American. The play was very 
 well got up. ... It was played with a roar 
 of applause andbravoed to the echo, all which was 
 comfortable enough. Played 4 times in full 
 houses. Forrest is undoubtedly the best man 
 for Spartacus in Christendom; in which his 
 figure and physique show to the best advantage 
 and his voice and muscle hold out to the last. 
 . . . Scott is a most excellent Phasarius, 
 and makes amends, for not always being perfect 
 to a letter in the text, by going to the business 
 with a will, which tells as favorably for himself 
 as for the author. 
 
 Of its performances at Boston, the Secret Records 
 say: 
 
 Dec. 14 (1831). The Gladiator has been per 
 formed at Boston and with good success. I 
 have been disappointed in not finding any very 
 lengthy or judgmatical reviews, particularly 
 as the Boston critics have a pretty good opinion 
 of their own abilities. 
 
 Such are Dr. Bird s unpretending accounts of his 
 first success as a playwright. But the critics were 
 unanimous in enthusiastic praise. The New York 
 Evening Post said : The new tragedy of The Gladi 
 ator was last evening performed at the Park 
 Theater, in this city for the first time, to a very 
 crowded house. The term overflowing applied 
 to the audience could scarcely be considered meta 
 phorical; for so over full was the pit that a number 
 of persons were literally forced upon the stage by 
 the pressure of the throng. The play was listened 
 
42 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 to throughout with great attention and interest, 
 and on the falling of the curtain, the decision of the 
 audience in respect to it was unequivocally spoken 
 in long continued and thundering peals of applause. 
 It is scarcely possible for a drama to meet with 
 more decided approbation than was bestowed on 
 The Gladiator. A more attentive, and apparently 
 a more engaged audience, we never saw. Through 
 out the course of the whole entertainment, not a 
 single sign of disapproval was given ; and frequently 
 applause, bursting out involuntarily from a part 
 of the audience, to the interruption of the action 
 of the piece, or the passion of the speaker, was 
 immediately checked and subdued by the rest, so 
 that no line might be lost, or the effect of no in 
 cident impaired. ... At the conclusion of the 
 piece, the whole last speech of Spartacus was 
 utterly inaudible by reason of the clamorous ap 
 plause and when the curtain fell, the theater was 
 literally shaken with the energetic demonstrations 
 of pleasure given by the spectators." The New 
 York Standard said of it : "To us it was a treat of no 
 ordinary interest ; we felt and enjoyed the feeling 
 with pride and satisfaction that The Gladiator was 
 creditable to the genius, to the taste, and to the 
 literary enterprise of the American people; and we 
 feel no hesitation in putting it down as the best 
 native tragedy extant. " The New England Galaxy 
 of Boston said in its issue of November 19, 1831 : 
 During the past week we have been favored by 
 Mr. Forrest with the greatest novelty that could 
 
FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 43 
 
 be presented to an American audience a genuine 
 tragedy of native birth. We shall at once be 
 understood as referring to the new prize piece, 
 The Gladiator, written by Dr. Bird of Philadelphia. 
 It is with a feeling of honest pride that we refer 
 to this production ; for after the numerous shock 
 ing abortions to which our playwrights have 
 within a year or two called the public attention, 
 we cannot but hail with peculiar satisfaction the 
 appearance of a regular, well-constructed, well- 
 written, five-act play, which is fairly entitled to 
 notice in the dramatic annals of the day, and forms 
 an era in the literature of our country." The 
 Boston Evening Transcript commented on its lan 
 guage : * It is replete with beautiful passages and 
 noble sentiments. The language is pure, and often 
 highly poetical if we may trust our ear, and the few 
 excerpts made by our contemporaries of New 
 York and Philadelphia, from the manuscript, the 
 tragedy not being in print." Of course the 
 Philadelphia papers were proud to own their 
 dramatist. The author has shown," ran The 
 United States Gazette, "not only a knowledge of 
 effect, but a keen perception of the emotions of the 
 human heart, and poetic talent of a very superior 
 grade, in working up the piece from the slender 
 materials furnished by history. He has entered 
 with facility into a Roman expression, which never 
 deserts him throughout. We are not disgusted by 
 detecting the modern masquerading in an ancient 
 garb. This beauty, with the pure classicality of 
 
44 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 the imagery, renders the piece as attractive to the 
 scholar, considered as a literary production, as 
 the vividness and intensity of interest delight the 
 general audience." While Charles Durang re 
 lates of the first Philadelphia performance: The 
 entire male portion of the audience rose to its feet 
 and gave at least nine cheers. I never saw in my 
 experience any theatrical applause so wildly and 
 impulsively given; and so it went through the 
 land." 1 
 
 The Gladiator is a blank- verse tragedy in five acts 
 on a classic theme. The play opens on a street in 
 Rome where some gladiators, Phasarius among 
 them, observe the city s desertion. Her generals 
 are off to war ; her populace is idle ; while they must 
 amuse it by shedding each other s blood. Phasa 
 rius outspokenly resents his bondage, and darkly 
 hints at revolt. But he is silenced by the appear 
 ance of Bracchius, his master, who tells of a 
 Thracian athlete, "most desperate and uncon 
 querable," against whom he is to be pitted. 
 Bracchius fires the blood of Phasarius with glowing 
 accounts of his rival, and sends him to his exercise 
 in a fighting mood. Meanwhile, Lentulus arrives 
 with his Capuan gladiators and his famous Thra 
 cian, Spartacus. Spartacus had been a shepherd 
 when through the treachery of a companion in the 
 Roman wars he was captured, sent to Capua, and 
 sold. Now brought to Rome in chains, he sulks, 
 
 1 Durang, C., History of the Philadelphia Stage, III. ser., chapter 
 xvi. 
 
FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 45 
 
 refuses to take the oath to fight, pines for his wife 
 and boy, and for his Thracian cottage. When to 
 his joyous astonishment he spies them, whom he 
 thought dead, among others that Bracchius has 
 brought, the cloud goes off his soul, and he takes 
 the oath to fight if they be restored to him. So 
 Lentulus buys of Bracchius Senona and her boy. 
 Soon after a magnificent spectacle is arranged in 
 which two hundred pairs of athletes are to fight ; 
 and after them, the survivors in general combat. 
 But during his days of practice Spartacus has 
 sown the seeds of revolt among the gladiators, who 
 are primed to respond at his beck. The day of the 
 games arrives; the amphitheater is thronged with 
 the wealth and beauty of Rome; and over all 
 Crassus, the prastor, presides. But Spartacus 
 again sulks, refuses to fight two antagonists sent 
 against him, but a third he crushes to death. At 
 last Phasarius confronts him. For a moment the 
 brothers stare in amazement as they recognize 
 after years of separation, and throwing down their 
 arms, defiantly refuse to fight. When the Roman 
 cohorts are sent in, the gladiators rise in a body, 
 attack the throng, and cut their way to freedom. 
 To capture the insurgents Crassus puts in the field 
 six legions, but Spartacus has mobilized his forces 
 and planned a set attack. After Crixus with his 
 Germans deserts him and is cut to pieces by the 
 Romans, Spartacus sets upon the Consular army, 
 routs it, and captures Julia, niece of Crassus. 
 Spartacus now shows a finer side of his nature by 
 
46 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 a chivalrous refusal to allow Julia to become the 
 mistress of Phasarius, who in a huff also goes his 
 own way, and returns, alone of his army, a repent 
 ant man. Finally Spartacus is -played false by 
 pirates whose ships he has hired for flight, and, 
 learning that Senona has been killed, makes his way 
 to the praetorium where he dies fighting desperately 
 to slay Crassus. 
 
 A number of reasons combined to make The 
 Gladiator effective, first of all the character of its 
 hero. A finer type of elemental man than Spar 
 tacus hardly exists in literature, a perfect union 
 of the primitive virtues, physical prowess, great 
 courage, strong passions, and withal a heart of 
 kindness. It is this range of qualities in the man 
 that strikes one as he reads. Capacity for fury 
 and brute strength we of course expect in gladia 
 tors, but in Spartacus there is vastly more. His 
 qualities of leadership are early shown by the re 
 gard he inspires and holds in Anomaiis, Phasarius, 
 and his men; by the reserve and balance of his 
 judgment. His nature is also humane and chival 
 rous. His relations with Senona are ideal; while 
 the captive Julia finds him her staunchest protec 
 tor. And like most men of action he has the power 
 of uttering great things. "What is your name?" 
 asks the haughty Bracchius. Misery ! " he sadly 
 replies and later in the play observes, 
 
 Nature 
 Makes fewer rogues than misery. 
 
FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 47 
 
 In addition to the splendor of the character was 
 Forrest s perfect fit in the part. It was essentially 
 melodramatic, and required voice, passion, and 
 strength rather than finesse or subtlety. Forrest 
 was a perfect embodiment of Spartacus; in con 
 sequence his acting was swift, sure, and instinctive. 
 Of course it is true, as the English reviewers 
 pointed out, that in the prominence of this one 
 part lay a defect. It was so central and dominant 
 that it draws the strength from the others, who 
 seem but faintly sketched. Scenes where Sparta 
 cus is absent are inclined to flag in interest. 
 
 Again, the literary quality of The Gladiator 
 struck critics and spectators alike. The blank 
 verse is uniformly easy, pleasing, and effective. 
 Bird clearly proved his control of it as a medium of 
 dramatic dialogue. Quotation at length would be 
 tedious, but one passage that drew attention from 
 both English and American critics and is also 
 typical will serve as an illustration. Spartacus 
 describes to Jovius, the Roman centurion, the 
 desolation wrought by Roman arms upon the 
 Thracian valleys. He has spoken of the ridgy- top 
 of Haemus and continues : 
 
 In my green youth I looked 
 From the same frosty peak where now I stood, 
 And then beheld the glory of those lands 
 Where peace was tinkling on the shepherd s bell 
 And singing with the reapers. 
 Since that glad day, Rome s conquerors had past 
 With withering armies there and all was changed : 
 
48 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 Peace had departed; howling war was there, 
 
 Cheered on by Roman hunters : Then, methought, 
 
 Even as I looked upon the altered scene, 
 
 Groans echoed through the valleys, through which ran 
 
 Rivers of blood, like smoking Phlegethons; 
 
 Fires flashed from burning villages, and famine 
 
 Shrieked in the empty cornfields. * 
 
 Perhaps the chief factor in the triumph of the 
 play was the energy and splendor of certain of its 
 scenes. The meeting of Spartacus and Senona; 
 the return and death of Phasarius ; the frenzy of 
 Spartacus at the news of Senona s end, when he 
 finds himself a hunted fugitive " alone upon the 
 flinty earth"; his death struggle for freedom, are 
 some of the situations that shot thrills through 
 beholders. In the great scene where brother 
 pitted against brother recognize each other after 
 long separation, throw down their arms, and 
 tenderly embrace, defiantly refusing to fight, the 
 applause would burst into riot and interrupt the 
 action. Here Forrest as Spartacus stood stripped 
 to the waist, his great muscles flexed and bulging, 
 his veins swollen, his jaws and neck rigid, his breath 
 obstructed, while he calms his brother with a 
 challenge to the throngs : 
 
 Let them come in; we are armed. 
 
 And in the lines "We will make Rome howl for 
 this, " such were the clang-tints and the power of 
 
 1 Act IV., Scene 3. 
 
FIRST SUCCESS, "THE GLADIATOR" 49 
 
 Forrest s intonation of "howl" that it became a 
 catch phrase with boys in the street. Here the 
 Spartacus of Forrest was "the perfection of 
 physical realism." Everywhere the play was 
 given, and it went throughout the land, it won the 
 same delighted, impulsive applause. From the 
 hour of its first appearance the name of Robert 
 Montgomery Bird had a fixed place in the annals 
 of the American stage. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 
 
 THE acceptance of two plays by a leading actor 
 of the day would supposedly satisfy a young man 
 of twenty-five that he had found his bent. Most 
 authors have begun their careers under far less 
 promising circumstances. But it was not so with 
 Bird. In the Secret Records under date of August 
 27, 1831, he again wears his heart on his sleeve and 
 naively calculates his chances. He quotes from 
 Suetonius, Vita C&sarum and with amiable candor 
 compares his own youth to that of the mightiest 
 Julius" in its fruitlessness and waste. Twenty- 
 five years he has lived in the world and done 
 nothing "nothing but hope." Ambitious as he 
 was, his companions swiftly push by him to posi 
 tions of responsibility and usefulness. There is a 
 great step between the boy of promise and the 
 man of achievement. "I envy no boy his pre 
 cocity," he goes on, "but a man s is another 
 matter. Congreve began at nineteen and wrote 
 his last play at twenty-five. Sheridan produced 
 The Rivals at twenty-two, and at twenty-five had 
 written The School for Scandal; at twenty-two 
 
 50 
 
FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 51 
 
 Campbell had published The Pleasures of Hope; 
 and at twenty-four Byron had become as immortal 
 as Childe Harold. Glorious instances these and 
 very ridiculous for me to talk about them." The 
 Gladiator, of course, had not yet appeared, and its 
 fate was naturally a matter of concern. "I wrote 
 The Gladiator just on the eve of my twenty-fifth 
 year; but can have no satisfaction in noting its 
 birth till I can form some augury of the length of 
 its life. To be sure, folks talk as agreeably as they 
 can, particularly those who know the least about 
 it. ... I am disposed to be sanguine enough ; that 
 is my temperament. But I have just been staring 
 hard at the world, and the view chills my anticipa 
 tions." He then recounts the career of a friend, 
 liberally educated for a profession, who similarly 
 quit it to pursue literature and pitiably wrecked 
 his life. But there were sounder grounds for mis 
 giving. "Our theaters are in a lamentable condi 
 tion and not at all fashionable. To write for and 
 be admired by the groundlings! villains that will 
 clap when you are most nonsensical and applaud 
 you most heartily when you are most vulgar; that 
 will call you A genius, by G when you can 
 make the judicious grieve and a witty devil 
 when you force a woman to blush." Furthermore, 
 the freedom of an American author was greatly 
 narrowed. Were The Gladiator to be produced in 
 a slave State, Bird thinks, the managers, actors, 
 and author as well would probably be rewarded 
 with the penitentiary. Finally, the requirements 
 
52 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 for a successful dramatist might well make a be 
 ginner pause and shiver. r< What a fool I was 
 to think of writing plays! To be sure, they are 
 much wanted. But then novels are much easier 
 sorts of things and immortalize one s pocket much 
 sooner. A tragedy takes or should take as much 
 labor as two romances ; and one comedy as much as 
 six tragedies." He then considers some of those 
 requirements invention, poetic fancy, common 
 sense. The sanguine and fiery ardor of an Orien 
 tal, " "the phlegmatic judgment of a German," 
 infinite capacity for feeling, a thorough knowledge 
 of human nature. He should in short be at once 
 a poet, orator, wit, and philosopher," and able to 
 carry on two operations in his mind simultaneously, 
 "to create and to fancy his creations acting." 
 
 In March, 1832, Dr. Bird removed with his 
 mother and a trusted servant to No. 140 North 
 Twelfth Street, Philadelphia, his brothers being 
 obliged by business to leave the city. At the time, 
 it seems, he was head and ears in literary projects. 
 His notebooks are crowded with titles and plans 
 for stories, articles, and plays, and with abstracts 
 from a widely miscellaneous course of reading. 
 His personal accounts for the year 1831 show that 
 he purchased during the month of December 
 Tanner s Narrative, Moore s Byron, Fox s Book of 
 Martyrs, Byron s Poems, Duane s Columbia, 
 Prior s Voyages, Sphix s Brazil, South American 
 Travels, Long s Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, 
 Watson s Annals of Philadelphia. During March 
 
FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 53 
 
 of 1832 he bought Bryant s Poems, a Dictionary 
 of Biography, Gordon s Pennsylvania, The Voy 
 ages of Columbus. In February of 1832, he had 
 finished another blank verse tragedy entitled 
 Oralloossa, Son of the Incas. It was submitted to 
 Forrest and at once accepted, Bird s third play to 
 take a prize. The theme of the play he took from 
 the history of Peru during the first half of the six 
 teenth century in the days of Pizarro. The con 
 spiracy led by Pizarro s nephew, his assassination 
 of Pizarro at Lima, and the suppression of the 
 rebellion that ensued form the historic groundwork 
 of the tragedy. The only fictitious part, Bird 
 states, consists in the introduction of "the imagin 
 ary character of Oralloossa, a son of Atahualpa, and 
 of making him the center of action and interest." 
 Two objects, he further states, he had in view, 
 "first, the portraiture of a barbarian in which is 
 concentered all those qualities both of good and 
 evil which are most strikingly characteristic of 
 savage life; the second, to show how the noblest 
 designs of a great man and the brightest destinies 
 of a nation could be interrupted and destroyed by 
 the unprincipled ambition of a single individual."- 
 It is worthy mention, though not a surprise, that 
 Bird s least successful play had its root in a moral 
 purpose. 
 
 Oralloossa was first staged October 10, 1832, at 
 the Arch Street Theater, Philadelphia, when the 
 rivalry between this house and the Chestnut 
 Street Theater was at its tensest point. At the 
 
54 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 latter on October loth, Charles Kemble made his 
 first appearance in Philadelphia in Hamlet with a 
 cast that included Miss Kemble, Mr. Sinclair, 
 Mr. James Wallack, and the Ravel family. As a 
 counter attraction Forrest produced Oralloossa, 
 assisted by Mr. and Mrs. Hilson, M. J. R. Scott, 
 Mr. Hill, Mr. C. Kean, and Mr. Cooper. Kemble s 
 fame was great, and all who frequented theaters 
 wished to see him. At the same time Bird s 
 Gladiator was fresh in the minds of Philadelphians 
 and won its author a ready hearing for his second 
 piece. Critics had read the play in manuscript 
 and given it sanguine announcements. "For our 
 own part," ran the account in The Evening Post, 
 "we beg leave in conclusion to tender Mr. Forrest 
 our sincere thanks for the pleasure which a perusal 
 of Oralloossa has afforded us we thank him for 
 having called into exercise such a mind as Dr. 
 Bird s we thank him for having added to the per 
 manent literature of our country a tragedy, which, 
 whether for the deep historic interest of the fable, 
 the ingenuity of its dramatic construction, the 
 fine bursts of passionate feeling and the sweet 
 touches of poetry with which it abounds, or the 
 general nobleness of the sentiments, and of the 
 great moral lessons it inculcates, has few superiors 
 in the whole range of English drama." Special 
 scenery had been painted by Messrs. Coyle and 
 Leslie. Richard Penn Smith wrote an eloquent 
 prologue. In consequence the theater-going public 
 of Philadelphia was almost equally divided be- 
 
FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 55 
 
 tween the houses. But favoring as the circum 
 stances were, Oralloossa was hardly a success. It 
 was the case of a play that read well but acted 
 poorly. Forrest was quick to feel its tameness on 
 the boards and threw himself into his part with 
 such desperation that, in one case, he dislodged a 
 fellow-actor s front teeth by his vehement lunge 
 at Don Christ oval. Yet, the audience were plainly 
 disappointed. Oralloossa was inferior to The 
 Gladiator in every respect, in plot, incident, dia 
 logue, characterization. In it Dr. Bird repeated 
 the disastrous mistake of effecting a climax at the 
 end of the third act by the death of Pizarro without 
 being able again to rise above it. Lavish with 
 praise as the critics continued to be, Forrest was 
 convinced that the play was unworthy both author 
 and actor, and at the end of the season struck it 
 from his list of acting r61es. 
 
 In the spring of 1833 Dr. Bird and Edwin 
 Forrest planned together an extensive trip through 
 the South and West. Their first intention was to 
 include Cuba, Mexico, and parts of South America, 
 in order to study the peoples, the archaeology, and 
 the customs of these lands. Dr. Bird carried with 
 him letters of introduction to General Pedraza 
 and Mr. Castillo, a United States Commissioner 
 in Mexico, who were to put him in touch with 
 sources of information. In these countries Bird s 
 interests had long centered. He spoke Spanish, 
 had made a special study of Mexican and South 
 American history, and had laid the scene of his 
 
56 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 last play in Peru. From Philadelphia they first 
 went to Charleston, arriving April I3th. South 
 Carolina was then in the throes of nullification; 
 shops were closed, houses in disrepair, while the 
 populace, divided into nullifiers and unionists, 
 were so ripe for a fight that "a single personal 
 fisticuffing between the two would have led all into 
 a general combat." Forrest was obliged to hasten 
 on to New Orleans to fill an engagement, while 
 Bird visited Savannah, Augusta, Warrenton, 
 Milledgeville, Macon, Columbus, Montgomery, 
 Selma, and Mobile, reaching New Orleans May 
 6th. It was Bird s intention to write a book of 
 sketches, and each place has left in a diary its 
 accurate impression. 1 At New Orleans they en 
 countered an epidemic of cholera which was raging 
 through the South with fearful destructiveness ; 
 they therefore abandoned their trip to Central and 
 South America, and headed for home. Under even 
 the best conditions travel in those days was an 
 arduous task. As Bird with pardonable exaggera 
 tion says, he "climbed hills, waded swamps, slept 
 six in a bed, fed on corn and bacon, and was often 
 imprisoned in some rascally village by the heavy 
 rains rendering the roads impassable." Through 
 Baton Rouge and Natchez, they reached Nashville 
 June 1 6th. Here Bird visited his old friend John 
 Grimes, with whom he explored the Mammoth 
 Cave. They were among the first to penetrate its 
 
 1 The title of the proposed book was Sketches of America, 
 Physical, Moral, and Political, by a Man of Leisure. 
 
FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 57 
 
 inmost grottoes, and Bird wrote a minute account 
 for The American Monthly Magazine, and for his 
 volume of tales and recollections, Peter Pilgrim. 
 With Forrest once more he went on to Detroit, 
 from which point he made a detour home by way of 
 Niagara Falls, passing " behind the great Falling 
 Sheet of Water to Termination Rock, July I3th." 
 He arrived in Philadelphia the latter part of July. 
 On his return Dr. Bird at once set to work on a 
 Mexican romance and on a tragedy, the scene of 
 which was Sante Fe de Bogota. A consideration 
 of Calavar belongs elsewhere. The Broker of Bogota, 
 as Bird named his play, was finished by January, 
 1834, submitted to Forrest, and accepted, his 
 fourth play to win a prize. It was first produced 
 by Forrest at the Bowery Theater, New York, on 
 February 12, 1834, an d so delighted the great 
 actor with its power and appeal that immediately 
 on his return from the performance he thus wrote 
 to Dr. Bird: 
 
 DEAR BIRD: 
 
 I have just left the theater your tragedy 
 was performed and crowned with entire suc 
 cess. The Broker of Bogota will live when our 
 vile trunks are rotten. You have every reason 
 to congratulate yourself. Will you come to 
 New York immediately upon the receipt of this 
 letter? Start on Friday morning and you will 
 have an opportunity of seeing your last child 
 "in health and spirits." Come! Wetmore is 
 desirous you should come with him on Friday 
 next. Come! I will return with you to Phila- 
 
58 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 delphia on Tuesday. All your friends will be 
 rejoiced to see you you shall be welcomed with 
 hearts and hands. Come, Come, Come ! 
 Yours ever, 
 
 EDWIN FORREST. 
 
 12 Feb. 1834, 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 
 The Broker of Bogota has been counted by many 
 Bird s best play. It lacked the melodramatic 
 qualities of The Gladiator, and required more skill 
 ful acting in the minor parts. For these reasons 
 Forrest gave it less often, but it remained a 
 favorite with him to the end of his career. The 
 Broker of Bogota is a domestic drama of real life in 
 its familiar course. Baptista Febro, the broker, a 
 man of ripe years, has long conducted a large 
 business in Bogota. Two traits dominate the 
 man, personal honor and parental affection. In 
 consequence when his son, a weak rather than a 
 bad man, turns to dissipation, he is vehemently 
 provoked and tries reform by cutting him off and 
 disowning him. He thus blasts Ramon s prospects 
 of marriage with a girl whose father objects to a 
 penniless outcast. In desperation, Ramon opens 
 his bosom to Caberero, a cool, dashing villain, of 
 noble blood and brilliant mind, but utterly corrupt 
 morals, and at his suggestion is entangled in a plot 
 to rob his father and thus win Juana. The robbery 
 is committed. By a diabolical juggling of cir 
 cumstances Caberero turns back the guilt on 
 Febro himself, who, old and confused, stands piti- 
 
FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 59 
 
 fully helpless before the court. Meanwhile, Juana, 
 Ramon s fiancee, learns of her lover s base timidity 
 in allowing his father s conviction, wrests from 
 him a declaration of Febro s innocence, scorns his 
 offers of marriage, and hurries to the court in time 
 to exonerate Febro. But, meanwhile, another 
 child has brought sorrow on the aged father; 
 Leonor, his daughter, has eloped with a stranger. 
 This circumstance, however, soon turns to joy 
 when the stranger proves a son of Palmera, the 
 viceroy of Granada, who sues for pardon. Added 
 happiness comes to Febro when Juana s evidence 
 puts his innocence beyond doubt before the as 
 sembled court. But alas, Ramon in despair, hurls 
 himself from a cliff. The sudden reversal of emo 
 tion is too much for the overwrought Febro; it 
 snaps the last cord; and he falls to the floor a 
 corpse. Even in outline the flawless construction 
 of this play becomes apparent. Here is no mis 
 placed climax. Our interest is deftly transferred 
 from situation to situation, from Ramon and 
 Juana to Rolando and Leonor, to Febro s painful 
 trial, to the touching catastrophe. The characters, 
 too, have flesh-and-bone reality. Febro is an ac 
 tual acquaintance hale, courteous, plain, sin 
 cere, outspoken. In him, the bundle of traits and 
 possibilities that go into the make of a man are 
 shrewdly set forth. In the court scene when 
 Caberero so shuffles circumstances that there seems 
 "neither hinge nor loop to hang a doubt on" of 
 Febro s guilt, the silent eloquence of his innocence 
 
6o LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 pleads with a thousand tongues. His alternate 
 sternness and affection, his pitiable helplessness in 
 the hands of Caberero, his labor and sorrow, his 
 final dissolution like so much brittle glass, touch- 
 ingly proclaim him man with man s infirmities. 
 Second only to that of Febro is the character of 
 Ramon, a slack-fib ered youth equally helpless in 
 a crisis, temptation, or despair. In fact, all the 
 major characters have the clean-run lines of actual 
 people. To conclude, for power, tenderness, range 
 of character, searching portraiture, and general 
 acting qualities, The Broker of Bogota deserves a 
 fixed place in American drama. 
 
 One other play hitherto not associated with his 
 name requires mention with the dramatic works of 
 Dr. Bird. Metamora, or the Last of the Wampanoags, 
 by John Augustus Stone, was the first of Forrest s 
 prize-plays. It was first given in Philadelphia at 
 the Arch Street Theater, January 22, 1830, and was 
 frequently played by Forrest with every mark of 
 favor. John Augustus Stone was a poor New 
 England actor who had settled in Philadelphia and 
 written several plays less well known. Metamora 
 was played again and again and yielded Forrest 
 enormous sums, but poor Stone shared a small part 
 of them, and in a fit of despair, at the early age of 
 thirty, flung himself into the Schuylkill at the 
 Spruce Street wharf, Philadelphia. Where did 
 Stone get his idea of Metamora? Dr. Bird, ac 
 cording to his wife, never spoke of Stone except in 
 terms of extreme pity. At the same time, accord- 
 
FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 61 
 
 ing to the same authority, both Dr. Bird and 
 Henry D. Bird asserted that Stone took the idea 
 of Metamora from an early drama of Bird s entitled 
 King Philip, or the Sagamore written in 1829 and 
 submitted, among other critics, to Stone. Bird s 
 early play exists only in fragments, and a line for 
 line comparison is impossible, but there is enough 
 to show strong resemblance. But Dr. Bird had 
 more concern with Metamora. Forrest gradually 
 came to the feeling that Stone s play required re 
 vision, and before his tour to Great Britain in 1836, 
 put it into Bird s hands for that purpose. The 
 play was so written, according to Mrs. Bird, that 
 revision was impracticable. In consequence, Dr. 
 Bird wrote virtually a new play differing from the 
 original in dramatis personae, plot, and dialogue. 
 Among Dr. Bird s papers are still to be seen notes 
 for Metamora, outlines for acts, lists of characters, 
 scraps of scenes, and suggestions. The play thus 
 revised was accepted by Forrest in September, 
 1 836, Bird charging for the alterations $2000. The 
 manuscript was always retained by Forrest, not 
 withstanding repeated efforts on the part of Dr. 
 Bird and his family to get the play. According to 
 Forrest he never used the alterations, and in 1856 
 had not the slightest idea where they are to be 
 found." 1 
 
 The dramas of Dr. Bird were among the first 
 from an American pen to appear abroad. On his 
 
 1 Edwin Forrest to Dr. E. R. Mayer, Bird s brother-in-law, 
 April 15, 1856. 
 
62 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 professional tours through Great Britain Forrest 
 invariably included one or more in his repertoire. 
 On his first tour in 1836 he opened his engagement 
 at the Theater Royal, Drury Lane, the iyth of 
 October with The Gladiator. This with Lear, 
 Macbeth, and Othello, composed his chief roles. 
 On his second trip in 1845-1846, he added The 
 Broker of Bogota. It is not surprising that in Eng 
 land neither of these American plays stirred the 
 enthusiasm they stirred at home. The fact did 
 not necessarily reflect on the plays. Both the 
 theme and treatment of The Gladiator, with its 
 stress on the physical in acting, unfitted it for a 
 strong appeal to a critical London audience of the 
 nineteenth century. It was not exactly what they 
 liked or looked for. Besides an Englishman felt 
 the one true test of an actor s power was Shake 
 speare. Accordingly, it was not a condemnation of 
 The Gladiator when after Forrest s speech at the 
 end of the play, the audience shouted to him to 
 appear in Shakespearean r61es. * There is, too, a 
 likelihood that the condescension toward American 
 art generally, so marked at the time, was not 
 absent in this instance. It showed itself in the air 
 
 1 Henry Wyckoff thus described the first London performance 
 of The Gladiator: "Old Drury was crowded from pit to ceiling 
 with an eager and excited audience. All the friends of the popular 
 actors of the day congregated in force. The American minister, 
 and all the fellow-countrymen of Forrest were likewise present. 
 There was silence until Spartacus, the Gladiator, came forward, 
 when a hearty shout of welcome broke forth from all parts of the 
 house. His magnificent person astonished those who had never 
 
FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 63 
 
 of mild outrage with which they heard Forrest s 
 speech, and their rebuke when he interpreted his 
 ovation as a mark of friendliness to America. 
 On the other hand, many reviewers put their 
 ringer with the surety that often distinguishes the 
 English critic on flaws in the play. The domi 
 nance of the chief character and the faintness of 
 the others they noted at once. The character of 
 Senona especially, who accompanied Spartacus in 
 his exploits and by his supposed skill in divina 
 tion prompted some of his most daring exploits, 
 deserved, they thought, more distinction. The 
 weakening after the arena scene they perceived 
 at once. Yet there was much in The Gladiator 
 that the English admired. They thought the 
 subject admirably adapted for scenic representa 
 tion. The perfect fit of the chief r61e to Forrest s 
 powers won approval. Of course, its great scenes 
 fired its audience abroad as at home. " Indeed," 
 ran a review in The Sun of October 18, 1836, "we 
 have not heard more enthusiastic bursts of applause 
 shake the walls of an English theater since Othello 
 expired with poor Kean. Nor did they omit to 
 
 seen him. His rich and powerful voice thrilled all who had not 
 heard it. His earnest, impassioned acting quite electrified the 
 audience. At the end he was overwhelmed with applause and 
 it was plain he had secured a hold on British sympathies, which 
 he never lost. There was a clique present who were disappointed 
 by his success, and when he appeared, at the general demand, to 
 make his acknowledgments, they raised the cry of Shakespeare, 
 Shakespeare! " Reminiscences of an Idler, chapter xxxvii., pp. 
 376-7. 
 
64 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 note and praise the occasional passages of rare 
 beauty, particularly that describing the Thracian 
 valleys before the Roman invasion when, 
 
 ". . . . Peace was tinkling in the shepherd s bells, 
 And singing with the reapers." 
 
 While it is true the play did not create the stir 
 Forrest expected and he wrote to his mother that 
 he did not think the English " treated The Gladia 
 tor and Dr. Bird fairly, " it is true also, that all in 
 all it was favorably received. Of this there is 
 space for but a single testimonial, of many that 
 might be cited. 
 
 DRAMATIC AUTHORS SOCIETY 
 
 LONDON, Octo. 26, 1836. 
 SIR: 
 
 I have the honor to inform you that at a 
 general meeting of this society, you as the 
 author of the Play of The Gladiator, were unan 
 imously elected an Honorary Member in token 
 of respect for your Talent as a writer by the 
 English Dramatic Authors. 
 
 I have been directed to intimate this to you 
 through your friend Mr. E. Forrest, which I do 
 with pleasure 
 I am, 
 Sir 
 Your faithful servant 
 
 RICHARD BRINSLEY PEAKE. 
 Secretary & Treasurer, 
 42 King Street, 
 
 Convent Garden. 
 To DR. BIRD. 
 etc., etc. 
 
FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 65 
 
 Such, then, were Bird s contributions to Ameri 
 can drama. It remains only to consider briefly 
 Forrest s share in their success; his art; his per 
 sonal relations with Bird ; and to conclude with an 
 account of Bird s views and methods of dramatic 
 composition. 
 
 The success of Bird s plays, The Gladiator par 
 ticularly, owed a large acknowledgment to the 
 powers of Edwin Forrest. For him they were first 
 written, and no rdles in his acting list better dis 
 played his art. Edwin Forrest belonged to what 
 has been called the natural school of acting. 
 Romantic rather than classic, it was empiric in 
 method and built its reading of life rather on ob 
 servation, intuition, instinct, and practice than on 
 traditional formulas. Forrest began his career as 
 a strolling player through the South and West. 
 He early learned to heed as the truest tutors his 
 own great depths of feeling and exuberance of 
 passion, his instinctive democracy of sentiment, 
 and men themselves in the original types. Rules 
 and traditions he was apt to ignore. And yet he 
 was not unmindful of his great forbears. Frorn 
 Kean he caught a strong bias toward the melo 
 dramatic, from Cooper a fondness for the stately 
 and the statuesque. But men and things were his 
 chief study. He used to walk behind old men, 
 watching their every movement to get the exact 
 tread and mannerism of age. He visited hospitals 
 and asylums, noting all the phases of weakness and 
 death, the features and actions of maniacs. He 
 s 
 
66 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 ingeniously devised contrivances to give to his act 
 ing the utmost reality. In the part of Virginius, 
 for example, Forrest for years had the hollow blade 
 of the knife filled with a red fluid which on the 
 pressure of a spring as he struck his daughter 
 spurted like blood from a stab. A lady once 
 fainted away as he played this scene, and realizing 
 that the act was artifice, not art, he never repeated 
 it. Of course, this realism, when within the 
 bounds of art, made for effectiveness. James 
 Oakes recounts a performance of Virginius, where 
 among men and women audibly sobbing there 
 sat near the stage "a fine looking old gentleman 
 with hair as white as snow." In the part where 
 the desperate father kills his daughter, so carried 
 away was the old man that he uttered in distinct 
 tones, My God, he has killed her ! " Afterwards, 
 when Virginius, having lost his reason, conies upon 
 the stage and with a distraught air says, "Where 
 is my daughter?" the old man arose, and looking 
 the actor earnestly in the face with tears streaming 
 from his eyes, said, "Good God, don t you know 
 that you have killed her?" This episode Forrest 
 counted one of the greatest tributes he ever 
 received. 
 
 Again, the art of Edwin Forrest had about it a 
 "magnanimous breadth and generosity of manly 
 temperament." Of this the r61e of Spartacus was 
 a superb example. All who witnessed it felt 
 Forrest s burning honesty of passion, his open 
 fellowship, his breadth of sympathy, his large 
 
FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 67 
 
 elemental nature. His best r61es were ever em 
 bodiments of man in his primitive virtue and glory 
 rather than in the refinements of society. With 
 this went hand in hand the spell of his physical 
 magnetism. "His Gladiator," says Alger, his 
 biographer, "in his palmiest days of vital strength 
 was something never surpassed in its kind. Every 
 stroke touched the raw of truth, and it was sublime 
 in its terribleness." Celebrated artists studied his 
 wonderful body, from Gilbert Stuart to William 
 Page, the latter depicting him as Spartacus in the 
 arena, when about to utter his stirring challenge 
 to the throngs. And then Forrest s accuracy and 
 defmiteness gave his action distinction and power. 
 Critics joined in eulogizing his reading, which was 
 a "model of precision and lucidity in the extri 
 cation of the sense of words. His recitation was 
 as clear as a mathematical demonstration." His 
 voice, naturally deep, rich, and strong, he had given 
 by exercise an astonishing range of fullness and 
 power. Such were the virtues of Forrest s art, 
 sincerity, eloquence, power, an overwhelming 
 animal magnetism. Of course, he had short 
 comings, a lack of spirituality, of beauty, of 
 charm, of subtlety and refinement, which pre 
 vented him from wholly winning approval from the 
 intellectual part of the public. He was too in 
 clined, as William Winter puts it, "to dominate a 
 multitude that had never heard anything short of 
 thunder and never felt anything till it was hit with 
 a club. But of these faults we must not make too 
 
68 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 much; they belonged as much to the school and 
 the time as to the man. 
 
 A happy stroke it was that brought into inti 
 macy these two men at the start of their careers 
 when each could thus ably supplement the other. 
 It is a regret that a friendship so enriching should 
 have had so brief a term. Edwin Forrest and 
 Robert Montgomery Bird first became acquainted 
 in the office of a friend, Dr. Black, in the spring of 
 1831, when arrangements were made regarding 
 The Gladiator. They were men of many like 
 tastes, highly regarded each other s talents, were 
 soon to travel together, and so became the closest 
 of friends. Bird counted Forrest the best actor 
 for Spartacus "in Christendom"; while Forrest 
 introduced Bird to his English friends as one of 
 America s first dramatists. Unhappily for both, 
 there was in those days, as we have seen, no copy 
 right law which defined the rights of an author and 
 an actor in a play. Dr. Bird wrote under condi 
 tions somewhat like those of Shakespeare s day. 
 An author kept his play in manuscript, and con 
 fined it to a single actor or manager. The right 
 of representation, the only property of any value, 
 passed without restriction to the actor or manager, 
 who paid an initial cost, agreed to further pay 
 ments if a success, and gave the play as often as he 
 liked. The only condition of success, as Bird wrote 
 to George Boker years after, was to surrender every 
 aspiration to literary fame and trust your work 
 as the only means of communication with the 
 
FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 69 
 
 world to a theatrical company, which more often 
 than not ranted and mangled it in the acting. In 
 Bird s case the procedure was further confused 
 by the fact that his plays were prize-plays, sub 
 mitted and accepted in competition. 
 
 It was the absence of any laws on these matters 
 that led to the break between Forrest and Dr. 
 Bird, and largely induced the latter to abandon 
 dramatic authorship. The exact situation be 
 tween them seems to have been this. When Ed 
 win Forrest accepted Bird s first play, he made a 
 payment with the understanding that if it were a 
 success Bird should receive $3000. A percentage 
 on each representation was also mentioned. As 
 has been noted, it was simply an understanding, 
 not a written contract. For Pelopidas, the first 
 drama, $1000 was offered. This play being re 
 placed by The Gladiator and not given, a similar 
 offer of $1000 was made by Forrest to Bird and 
 accepted. Presumably this was partly in the 
 nature of a prize. The same amount was paid for 
 each Oralloossa and The Broker of Bogota. In 
 short Bird received for the four plays, of which 
 three were performed, the sum of $3000. He had 
 borrowed from Forrest loans on notes to the 
 amount of $2000, making in all $5000. These 
 loans Forrest later tried to collect, giving Bird his 
 first intimation that the balance on the plays was 
 never to be paid. This move on Forrest s part 
 would seem to justify those who have declared his 
 prize scheme simply a ruse to get plays cheaply. 
 
70 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 Furthermore, at Forrest s request, Bird rewrote 
 Metamora, which was accepted in September of 
 1836, and for which Bird thought due him $2000 as 
 he says, "for so much I think it worth." In a word 
 Dr. Bird fixed Forrest s indebtedness at $11,000 
 of which he had received but $5000. To quote his 
 own words, after an itemized statement he con 
 tinues, "He owes me therefore, $6000; though I 
 have no bond , contract , or other written instrument 
 to show that he does." To Bird the situation was 
 the more galling because of Forrest s enormous 
 profits from the plays. His custom was, Bird says, 
 to perform the play "at the first gettings up in 
 New York, Philadelphia, and Boston five successive 
 nights in each place; and, in the second engage 
 ments in these towns, so many times more as to be 
 equal, counted with the getting up engagements, 
 to twenty-five or thirty nights in all." 1 He thus 
 obtained so many more "crams." Forrest re 
 ceived for the first nights half the gross receipts, 
 for the four remaining nights half the profits; he 
 then made the rounds of the theaters in the South 
 and West, drawing returns almost as large. By 
 a rough but conservative estimate, Bird fixed 
 Forrest s profits on a play for the first year at 
 $12,000. And two of Bird s plays, as we saw, 
 Forrest gave off and on to the end of his career. 
 
 It was at this juncture, after much unsuccessful 
 endeavor, that Dr. Bird made an appointment in 
 
 1 See Memoranda among the Bird MSS., Library of University 
 of Pennsylvania. 
 
FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 71 
 
 his home with Forrest in 1837. His object was to 
 have a settlement as well as to get the manuscript 
 of Metamora, which Forrest had taken with him 
 to Europe. An angry dispute arose. The two 
 parted. When asked by his wife who his visitor 
 was, Dr. Bird replied, "That scoundrel! He is not 
 fit to be in the presence of a lady." From that 
 hour, according to his wife, Dr. Bird lost all interest 
 whatever in the drama, abandoned dramatic au 
 thorship, and never after frequented the theater, 
 not even to witness his own plays. I 
 
 It only remains to set forth briefly, and as far as 
 possible in his own words, Dr. Bird s sources, aims, 
 and methods of workmanship, for we have about 
 
 1 Among the Bird MSS. I find the following statement of Mrs. 
 Bird: "I have understood that it was customary to add to the 
 announcements of Forrest s intended representations of The 
 Gladiator, in New York, the information that the Author would 
 be present on the occasion. The same gratuitous piece of news 
 may, for aught I know, have been afforded in other places. In 
 regard to such notices I can positively assert that they were al 
 together without Dr. Bird s knowledge or consent that he held 
 no direct intercourse with Mr. Forrest for at least sixteen years, 
 the last interview with him being for business purposes in the fall 
 of 1837 after Mr. F. s return from Europe, when Dr. made a 
 last direct, but unsuccessful effort to obtain possession of the 
 manuscript of Metamora, as well as of the money due by Forrest 
 that Dr. neither went to New York nor thought of going during 
 the last 1 8 or 20 years of his life that during that period he 
 never attended a representation of any of his own plays, nor 
 was inside a theater half a dozen times: indeed, I believe, I 
 may truly say that during that period he was present but once at 
 a theatrical performance, and that was for the purpose of doing 
 honor to a new play of Mr. Boker s from which he returned 
 home sickened by the heat and crowd." 
 
72 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 these matters the fullest information. Few liter 
 ary artists have thrown open their workshops with 
 more unreserve than Dr. Bird. Among his papers 
 is a mass of notes, suggestions, outlines, abstracts, 
 diaries, drafts, and fragments that disclose most 
 interestingly his successive steps in composition. 
 One can almost trace the plays from their first 
 impulse scene by scene to completion. Perhaps 
 what first strikes the reader of these papers is the 
 amount of research that preceded writing. Dr. 
 Bird counted it of first importance to catch the 
 exact "form and pressure " of the times and peoples 
 among whom his story lay and spared no pains to 
 get them. The Gladiator, for instance, carried him 
 far into the Latin writers. I find, besides the 
 English works of Hooke and of Ferguson, a de 
 tailed list of leadings in the works of Florus, 
 Livy, Eutropius, Plutarch, Paterculus, Appian, and 
 Tacitus. J His research into the life and history of 
 Mexico and Spanish America was equally exten 
 sive; upwards of two hundred and ten finely writ 
 ten foolscap sheets remain abstracting histories, 
 memoirs, and books of travel. Thus quarried, the 
 incidents were thrown together into a short prose 
 resume, parted into plot and subplot, and blocked 
 out into acts and scenes, with points marked for 
 
 1 Among the Bird MSS. I find the following list of sources 
 probably used in connection with The Gladiator: Plutarch, 
 Crassus [8-12]; Livy, Epit., xcv.; Florus, iii., 20; Eutropius, vi., 2 ; 
 Tacitus, Ann., xv., 46; Paterculus, ii., 30; Appian [De Bellis 
 Civilibus, i., 116-121]; Sallust [Hist., iii., frag. 90, 93, 96, 100, 
 101; iv., frag., 41]; Caecilius. 
 
FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 73 
 
 striking speeches and situations. Abundance of 
 detail was added to give the story the utmost 
 realism, and upon this frame was woven bit by 
 bit the dialogue. 
 
 Of dramatic effect Dr. Bird had very definite 
 ideas. The true secret of effect (in drama) , " he 
 says, "consists in having everything as well in 
 details as in general structure epigrammatic or 
 climacteric, the story rising to rapidity and clos 
 ing with power; the chief characters increasing in 
 passion and energy; the events growing in interest, 
 the scenes and acts each accumulating power above 
 their precursors ; the strength of a speech augment 
 ing at its close, and the important characters dis 
 missed at each exit with some sort of point and 
 emphasis." Of course the mastery of this effect 
 involved all those complex requirements that 
 made playwriting so arduous. "The first part of 
 the education of a dramatist," he says, "is that 
 which fits him to be a writer; the second makes 
 him an actor; the third inducts him into the prin 
 ciples of criticism; and he has completed his 
 studies when he can exercise the functions of the 
 three not separately but together. The education 
 of an actor," he goes on, " can only be acquired in 
 the theater, and in a close study of great plays. 
 First he must learn stage business, comprising the 
 mechanical aspects of the actor s art, the manage 
 ment of voice, gestures, grouping, and so on. He 
 must then learn to act with effect and to see in our 
 great dramas what it is that is effective. He 
 
74 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 will perceive that certain incidents and situations 
 and certain forms of language are impressive on the 
 boards; while others, perhaps not less interesting 
 and beautiful in imagination, are entirely without 
 point in performance. The great, perhaps the 
 chief, secret of effect depends upon the style of 
 language. . . . The secret is simple: that writer 
 stumbles upon dramatic effect whose characters 
 speak like men; and he fails whose personages 
 declaim like orators and poets. We sympathize 
 in a theater with nothing that is not natural; we 
 even feel the homeliest expressions of passion, 
 when they are like those of the beings around us. 
 . . . Shakespeare is a greater dramatist than 
 others because he is more natural. Nature is 
 unchangeable ; and at this day . . . Othello speaks 
 in language more akin to that of our fellows than 
 his classic shadow, Zampa. The human expression 
 that breathes from the lips of Lear and Macbeth 
 would render them heirlooms on the stage, had 
 they been otherwise on a level with the other 
 writings of the day." 
 
 Finally, the risks and difficulties that beset the 
 dramatist s path, Dr. Bird was ever most frank to 
 confess. Play writing he counted the most ardu 
 ous form of literary composition. "What a fool I 
 was to think of writing plays," he says in his 
 Secret Records. To be sure, they are much 
 wanted. But then novels are much easier sort of 
 things. ... A tragedy takes, or should take, as 
 much labor as two romances; and one comedy as 
 
FORREST AND THE LATER PLAYS 75 
 
 much as six tragedies. How blessedly and lazily, 
 in making a novel, a man may go spinning and 
 snoring over his quires." When done, what a risk 
 the play ran in the presentation! In many cases 
 the actors were so crude and amateurish that to 
 entrust them with a piece was to damn it at the 
 start. If discreet, he would place the burden of his 
 play on two or three performers of real power, for 
 most companies had no more. In fine, considering 
 the oblivion, the shabby returns, the risks and 
 difficulties, the exacting and varied requirements 
 that lie in the way of the dramatist, "it is not 
 wonderful few men have the courage to tread it. 
 The marvel is that any are found so daring. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 
 
 ON February 5, 1834, Robert Montgomery Bird 
 passed his twenty-eighth birthday. And indeed 
 it must have been with no ordinary satisfaction. 
 There was everything to fill him with pride in the 
 past and hope for the future. He had written 
 four tragedies of which two were soon to reach the 
 height of favor on the stage. His portfolios were 
 filled with plans and scenarios for new plays. With 
 the American public his name alone would have 
 insured further effort an appreciative hearing. 
 He was a warmly admired friend of Edwin Forrest. 
 He had the gift of sturdy health which, however, 
 in a few years was to be his no more. And yet he 
 had written his last play. The next five years 
 Dr. Bird gave to a wholly different type of litera 
 ture with a productiveness and success that is 
 remarkable. 
 
 His change to the novel was due to several 
 causes. First of all, Bird s strength lay rather in 
 prose than in verse as an examination of his early 
 pieces in Snowden s Magazine makes plain. Then, 
 too, his talents, as he says in one of his letters, were 
 
 76 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 77 
 
 "of too discursive and diffuse a turn to shine in a 
 nutshell, " a fact that doubtless helped to make 
 play writing the arduous task he found it. The 
 drama of all forms demands brevity and compact 
 ness. A more urgent consideration still was the 
 fact that the romance was the literary fashion. 
 Scott abroad and Cooper in America had set the 
 vogue which the young novitiate in letters, if he 
 aspired to prominence, was tempted to follow. 
 Much more than the drama, it afforded a career. 
 The one condition of success for the dramatist, 
 i.e., to have a play accepted by an actor and to 
 confine its use, in manuscript, to him, virtually 
 shut off his hopes as a man of letters. His only 
 contact with the public was through the medium 
 of a company that as often as not garbled a piece 
 in presentation. Hand in hand went a remunera 
 tion so scanty that the dramatist was forced to 
 other means of a livelihood. The wonder is that 
 any at that time chose to write for the stage. 
 "Novels," as Bird himself put it, "immortalize 
 one s pocket much sooner." 
 
 Dr. Bird s interests, as we have noted, had long 
 centered in Mexican life and history. He had 
 acquired the Spanish tongue, and read widely in its 
 literature and annals. Among his papers are lists 
 of books and scraps of Mexican chronology for a 
 story he apparently intended to call Kevar, or The 
 Knight of the Conquest. It was his intention, on his 
 Southern trip with Forrest, to visit Mexico and 
 study at first hand the peoples and customs. 
 
78 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 Accordingly it is no surprise to find there the scene 
 of his first romance. Calavar, or The Knight of the 
 Conquest was finished in the early months of 1 834, 
 and sent to Carey, Lea & Co. , who thus acknowl 
 edged its receipt : 
 
 DEAR DOCTOR: 
 
 I feel so well satisfied that your book will 
 sell that I think it is better to stereotype it at 
 once. If you agree with me, well if not, I will 
 send a printer to you. If you think proper you 
 can send copy at once to Mr. Pagan. 
 I send the Confessions and am 
 Yr truly, 
 
 H. C. CAREY, 
 
 Feb. 15. 
 R. M. BIRD, ESQ. 
 
 After some adjustments articles of agreement 
 were drawn up April 17, 1834. According to them 
 Calavar was to be stereotyped at the expense and 
 risk of Carey and Lea. Sufficient copies to meet 
 the demand were to be printed. Dr. Bird was to 
 receive one half the proceeds of sales, after deduct 
 ing the cost of stereotyping and one half of the 
 cost of paper, printing, binding, and advertising. 
 The agreement was to continue seven years from 
 the date of publication. Semi-annual statements 
 of the sales which fortunately have been pre 
 served were to be sent to Dr. Bird. There were 
 other stipulations of minor consequence. The 
 book was copyrighted and given to the public in 
 October of 1834. 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 79 
 
 Calavar is an historical novel with a factual set 
 ting of acknowledged accuracy. It concerns the 
 history of Mexico at the time of the conquest in 
 1520 and depicts that full and stirring period from 
 the battle between Hernando Cortez and Narvaez, 
 by which Cortez possessed himself of the city of 
 Zempoalla, to the famous battle of Otumba. The 
 hero is a young Cavalier fresh from the siege of 
 Rhodes, who comes to Mexico to attend his rela 
 tive, Calavar, as a sworn adherent. He joins the 
 army of Narvaez on the eve of its defeat, accom 
 panies Cortez to Mexico, engages in the thrilling 
 siege of the palace of Axajacatl and the terrible 
 night -retreat from the city, and winds up his ad 
 ventures on the field of Otumba. In the mate 
 rials of the story Dr. Bird was both fortunate and 
 unfortunate. Certainly, for the reader of fiction, 
 here was something fresh, remote, and splendid. 
 Southern life, Indian life, English life (as Ameri 
 cans conceived it) had all been treated. But 
 Calavar explored a region rich in romance and 
 hitherto untouched in fiction. Fortunate, too, was 
 Bird s choice of the particular period, the days of 
 the Conquest. A series of events lay at hand 
 ready-made, which were certain to fire the imagina 
 tion, the first push between rival invaders ter 
 minating among the burning temples of Zempoalla ; 
 the march to Mexico over the field of Tlascula, 
 through the ruins of Cholula, among the volcanoes; 
 the entrance to the royal Tenochtitlan ; the battles 
 by day and night, at the palace, in the streets, on 
 
8o LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 the pyramids; the death of Montezuma ; the ever 
 memorable Noche Trieste, as it is still called by 
 Spanish writers. On the other hand, for many 
 readers the whole subject of Mexico with its 
 heathendom, halfbreeds, and barbarism must have 
 held slight interest. The portion of the hemisphere 
 was at fault. And then Bird was forced at the 
 price of almost infinite toil to get up what writers 
 term local coloring. When Cooper wrote of the 
 forest and the sea, he had only to call to mind the 
 life he had lived, the hazards he had run, and 
 the men he had met, for the furniture of a setting. 
 This Bird had to acquire by poring over Mexican 
 chronicles, histories, memoirs, books of travel, and 
 maps. The preliminary reading for his two Mexi 
 can novels was extraordinary in range and amount. 
 I find among his papers upwards of 210 finely 
 written foolscap sheets of notes, chronologies, ab 
 stracts, and jottings. Among the books so sum 
 marized are Stevenson s Twenty Years Residence 
 in South America; Bernal Diaz del Castillo s True 
 History of the Conquest of Mexico; Schmidtmeyer s 
 Travels into Chile; De Solis s History of the Conquest 
 of Mexico; Lyon s Residence and Tour in Mexico; 
 Ward s Mexico in 1827; Bullock s Six Months in 
 Mexico; Ulloa s A Voyage to South America; Clavi- 
 gero s Mexico. There is a list of seventeen titles 
 for additional reading. That Bird was success 
 ful in his protraiture both Prescott and Parkman 
 have borne witness. 
 
 With its obvious defects, Calavar has some 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 81 
 
 merits of first excellence. The historical novel is 
 an exacting form to work in by reason of the double 
 task it places on the writer. He must first of all 
 have a fairly accurate groundwork of facts. Actual 
 men and affairs must be presented as history 
 knows them. But the facts of history are mostly 
 gray, lifeless, and like broken torsos must be 
 pieced out and suffused with being. To do this he 
 must have the constructive imagination. He must 
 lift facts from the dull level of exposition and see 
 "living men in the old documents." These two 
 demands Calavar meets with rare success. In it 
 are set forth with as lifelike actuality as anywhere 
 in fiction the heroes of the Conquest of Mexico. 
 Again the prose of the book entitled Bird to rank 
 as an author. Although at times too full and dis 
 cursive, it is easy, flexible, when need be dramatic, 
 and vividly pictorial. Bird s descriptions won the 
 critics to a man. Quotation would be tedious and 
 we can only mention the account of the night 
 approach to Zempoalla, the description of Cortez 
 and his trusty band when discovered encamped 
 in the near-by valley, the Night of Sorrow, and the 
 disastrous retreat from the capital. The wealth 
 of stirring episode has been already mentioned. 
 Dr. Bird possessed as his own, it is to be recalled, 
 the playwright s cunning at dramatic narrative. 
 Of the many well-drawn characters in the book 
 perhaps the sharpest or subtlest are Calavar, 
 Amador de Leste, Abdalla, Jacinto, Bordello. 
 One other feature of Calavar deserves mention 
 
82 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 because it characterizes all his novels, its fullness 
 and intricacy of plot. 
 
 In the spring of 1834, before Calavar appeared, 
 Dr. Bird took his only trip to Europe. It was his 
 intention to remain in England some months, 
 possibly a year, to meet the men of letters, ac 
 quaint himself with English life, and supervise an 
 English edition of Calavar, a manuscript of which 
 he took with him. Again his many friends supplied 
 him with letters of introduction. Forrest gave him 
 one to James Wallack, who was to introduce him 
 further to "the elite of our calling." Harpers were 
 to send him one to Bulwer. James Lawson, ever 
 the best of friends, gave him a number, to James 
 Hogg, Scott s friend, "the most remarkable man 
 that ever wore the maud of a shepherd"; to 
 Robert Chambers of the Edinburgh Journal; and to 
 Wilson, the Professor. With the letter to Wilson 
 went an admonition. "Don t seem to care a 
 
 d about him. Talk of eating, drinking, boxing, 
 
 walking, fishing, anything but letters. Let him 
 rather seek your notice than you his. Manage 
 well and he will grapple you to his heart. Another 
 was to acquaint him with Mrs. Hemans. It is 
 pleasant to think of Bird on this trip, with a past 
 of honor and a future of promise, twenty-eight 
 years old, and, as his passport has it, five feet 
 eleven inches tall, high forehead, light eyes and 
 hair, and a fair full face, sailing off to England on 
 the Pocahontas with Captain West, April 18, 1834. 
 Dr. Bird arrived at Liverpool May I3th, he 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 83 
 
 wrote to his mother, * * after a short but very bois 
 terous passage of only sixteen days from land to 
 land, though of twenty-two from city to city, owing 
 to four days detention in the Delaware and two 
 in the Irish Channel." After a short sight -seeing 
 tour through Chester, the Welsh mountains, 
 "Shakespeare s den," the school cotes of Oxford, 
 and Windsor, he settled in London at No. 3 Adam 
 Street , Adelphi , May 2 5th . "My lodging house , 
 he writes, "is within one hundred feet of the 
 Thames, my windows look on it; a fine terrace, 
 some forty or fifty above the water, runs along it 
 for about a square. From that terrace, I can see 
 on the left hand, St. Paul s; on the right, West 
 minster Abbey; without counting a brace of stone 
 bridges with twelve or fifteen high arches each, or 
 towers and steeples in abundance." Thus com 
 fortably quartered, Bird went about the business 
 for which he had primarily come, an English edi 
 tion of Calavar, and here it was that he met with a 
 rebuff that ever afterward cooled his feelings for 
 English publishers, and to an extent, for English 
 authors. The situation seems to have been this. 
 English publishers of the day would not pay any 
 thing for the first work of an unknown author. 
 They would, however, accept it for nothing, and 
 publish it. If the first was successful, a second 
 work would command a fair price. As Bird wrote 
 to the Misses Mayer, "After all my modest un 
 assuming hopes to make a fortune out of the Lon 
 doners, they bid very fair to out-Herod Herod, or 
 
84 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 what is the same thing, to out-Yankee Yankee. 
 In other words, as I begin to have the comfortable 
 assurance they will have Calavar from me for 
 nothing, or not have him at all. I hear on all 
 hands how necessary it is that an author should 
 sacrifice his first work, especially a foreign one; 
 and I begin to perceive that I must fall into ranks 
 and do as my betters have done before me. This 
 seems a pretty state of things, indeed, that an 
 author should give a bookseller one book for the 
 privilege of selling him a second; but this is the 
 misfortune of being unknown, as is unfortunately 
 my case. Among the herd of scribblers in Great 
 Britain, notoriety is the only mark of genius for a 
 bookseller ; none of these brain merchants will keep 
 a neophyte on pay while he is creeping up hill. 
 But there is this satisfaction in store, that after 
 he is up hill, he can make the rascals pay the. back 
 account. This is my hope. " He consulted Bulwer 
 on the matter, who swears first works are always 
 sacrificed." 1 
 
 It was not alone his treatment from the book- 
 trade that caused a smart. At the time of Bird s 
 visit to England Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer was 
 the literary dictator. He was the popular favorite, 
 * the prince of living novelists. Bulwer had early 
 perceived the revolution in taste and had dispensed 
 with the hero of action for the hero of observation 
 and reflection, who did not do great things, but 
 who said good things. The sentimental dandies 
 
 1 Dr. Bird to Miss Mary Mayer, June 25, 1834. 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 85 
 
 and high-toned villains of Bulwer s earlier novels 
 captivated all hearts." 1 Bird met Bulwer, had 
 an interview, and ostensibly by arrangement sub 
 mitted for judgment the whole first volume of 
 Calavar. After a suitable time and no reply was 
 forthcoming, a request for the return of the manu 
 script was made; but again no reply was returned. 
 Among Bird s papers, I find three drafts of a 
 second request dated July 7, 1834, varying in tone 
 from polite disgust to bitterest sarcasm. To which 
 ever was sent, Bulwer replied as follows : 
 
 SIR, 
 
 I am very sorry that my absence from the city 
 has occasioned so much inconvenience to you 
 relative to your work. I much regret that what 
 with the illness of one of my family and an un 
 usual pressure of affairs, I have not been able to 
 give any detailed inspection to your Ms. But 
 as far as I have been able to go, I have been much 
 struck with the force and vigour of the style and 
 I do not doubt that if the whole resembles the 
 part, it will do you much credit in the publica 
 tion. Had we both had more time to spare I 
 would have read it thro more carefully and 
 expressed my opinion more critically. 
 Yr. ably, 
 
 E. L. BULWER. 2 
 
 To one whose patience was already tried, this letter 
 contained additional cause for offense, the delay, 
 
 1 Lounsbury, Cooper, pp. 124-5. 
 
 2 This letter is among the Bird MSS. in the Library of the Uni 
 versity of Pennsylvania. 
 
86 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 the partial reading, the indifference, the moderate 
 praise of the style. It is not surprising that Bird 
 decided to return to America at once "instead of 
 living here expensively and largely for the good 
 of the trade." Accordingly he took passage on the 
 Carroll of Carrollton with his brother Capt. Thomas 
 Jefferson Bird, sailing from Liverpool July 20, 1834. 
 The reception of Calavar, if cool at the hands of 
 English bookmen, at home was cordial and appre 
 ciative. Within a year of its issue a first edition 
 had sold. The reviewers, without exception, 
 praised it warmly. Poe in one of his articles 
 pronounced it "beyond doubt one of the best 
 American novels." "We do not scruple," ran The 
 Baltimore Gazette, to pronounce it superior to any 
 thing of the kind which has yet emanated from the 
 American press." The Knickerbocker Magazine 
 said of it, "We shall be exceedingly mistaken if the 
 work does not place the author in the very highest 
 rank among the writers of America." Others 
 more enthusiastic could be given. In any case 
 Dr. Bird was encouraged to proceed rapidly with 
 another, and in May, 1835, appeared The Infidel, 
 or The Fall of Mexico. 
 
 Among the first to read The Infidel was Bird s 
 friend James Lawson. He wrote to Dr. Bird a 
 frank critique which is of first interest in the light 
 of Bird s reply. Juan and Magdalena, Lawson 
 thought, were too passive. The Infidel King and 
 his beautiful sister are fine creations, but our sym 
 pathies are not sufficiently awakened in their fate; 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 87 
 
 we do not weep over the fall of the Infidel City. 
 And, then, too, there might have been more action. 
 "Of a tragedy, so of a novel," runs Lawson s letter, 
 "action, action, action is the first and last in 
 gredient." 1 These points Bird thus meets, in a 
 carefully written draft of a reply: "Your stric 
 tures on The Infidel, especially the approbatory 
 ones, are very just. But that confounded sym 
 pathy of yours I do not understand. I did not 
 want to make anybody weep over the fall of the 
 Mexicans. All I desired was to illustrate their 
 heroic resistance at their altars and their fires of 
 a scoundrelly foe, whom I desired to paint in his 
 true colors also; as I think I have done. The 
 character of Juan I meant to be passive. In 
 fact, I was drawing the character of a dog I knew 
 once who was a very fine Christian -like animal, 
 for all the hard treatment he had. You certainly 
 are wrong about the action., action, action being 
 as necessary in a novel as in a play. The deepest 
 interest can be drawn from the sufferings of in 
 dividuals incapable of resisting their fate, and 
 even when they attempt no resistance. Such is 
 found in The Bride of Lammermoor, where the 
 heroine is wax and the hero lead, clay, water, or 
 anything. And that fiction, if you will take my 
 word for it, is the most interesting and deeply 
 affecting ever penned by the hand of man. The 
 actors do nothing; but how one s tears drop over 
 them; nay over their memory. Five minutes 
 1 Lawson to Bird, May 26, 1835. 
 
88 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 musing over the recollection of that story incapaci 
 tates me for writing a day ; reading it robs me of all 
 power of composition for a week. However, I 
 know it is needful to make a grand crash in every 
 tenth chapter of my fiddle-de-dees; and my up- 
 Delaware book shall have at least one roaring 
 piece of big figure in it." 1 
 
 The story of Calavar terminates on the field of 
 Otumba after the expulsion of the Spaniards from 
 Mexico. That of The Infidel starts at the period 
 when Cortes, receiving a new commission from 
 Charles the Fifth and a great accession of Spanish 
 troops and allies, returns to commence the league 
 that ends in the fall of Mexico. The individual 
 history of Juan Lerma, deftly woven in with the 
 real events of the siege, constitutes the fable. 
 From the same quarry as Calavar, The Infidel 
 shows no signs of imitation or exhaustion. It is 
 as full, striking, picturesque; and with even more 
 passion and feeling. For a narrative description 
 of unsurpassed interest one need only mention 
 the account of Guzman s ordeal on the warrior s 
 stone. To this stone, called the Temalacatl, now 
 lying in the Plaza Mayor of the modern city, cap 
 tives of excelling prowess were bound by one foot 
 and forced to fight to the death six native warriors, 
 after which, if they survived, they were freed and 
 sent home. The characterization deserves mention 
 in one respect. Cortes himself is a leading charac 
 ter. And the important part he takes gives ample 
 
 1 Bird to Lawson, June i, 1835. 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 89 
 
 opportunity for the display of the author s powers 
 in that most difficult department of historical 
 novel writing, the correct delineation of real 
 people. The character of Cortes, drawn from 
 authentic data by Bird, is that by which posterity 
 perhaps can best know him. It bears the stamp of 
 actuality and truth. The book contains an array, 
 too large, perhaps, of big characters, Guatimazin, 
 Cortes, Guzman, Lerma, Lord of Death, Magda- 
 lena, Zellahualla. As with Calavar the plot of 
 The Infidel is almost confusingly tangled and in 
 tricate. The solution draws on relationships that 
 run back to a previous generation, and are un 
 known or have dropped from memory. Thus it is 
 with Camarja s strange relations with Juan and 
 Magdalena, and theirs with Cortes. 
 
 The Infidel sold rather better than Calavar and 
 in August of 1835 it appeared in May Carey, 
 Lea & Company announced a second edition to 
 meet the demand. And yet the sale was not in 
 step with the merit of the book. The reason Law- 
 son hits on in that same letter: "Twixt you and 
 me, " he said, "I am not sorry you are done with 
 Mexico. I fear the novel-reading world do not 
 feel the same interest in the semi-civilized portion 
 of our hemisphere, which you entertain. We want 
 something, though not exactly at our doors, yet 
 near us." The justness of this critique Bird ac 
 knowledged. "You are right about my Mexican 
 subjects; they are too far-offish and Hebraic for 
 our Johnny Raws of the States, who know and 
 
90 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 care as little about Mexico as they do about the 
 moon. My success in them has been nothing to 
 compare with Simms s, which I esteem quite ex 
 traordinary: I feel very envious about him, but 
 not in a malicious way." While still occupied 
 with the proof sheets of The Infidel, Dr. Bird was 
 also engaged on the Up-Delaware book" which 
 appeared in September, 1835, as The Hawks of 
 Hawk Hollow, A Tradition of Pennsylvania. 
 
 In this story Bird heeded Lawson s advice and 
 laid the scene near his own doorsill in the Delaware 
 valley at the beautiful Water Gap, whither as a 
 medical student with Dr. Black and John Grimes 
 he often went to camp and sketch. The story of 
 the young painter and his chums, and of course the 
 novel s setting are built on these early experiences. 
 The story takes us back to 1760 and concerns an 
 English family by the name of Gilbert, who had 
 settled in the valley near the Gap, its disintegra 
 tion through the mysterious death of the only 
 daughter, in which Colonel Falconer, the present 
 occupant of the Manor, was questionably im 
 plicated, the revenge by the sons of Gilbert, known 
 throughout the section for their desperate charac 
 ter as the Hawks of Hawk Hollow. Woven in is 
 the love story of Hyland Gilbert, who proves to be 
 no other than the legitimate son of Colonel Fal 
 coner and his early lost bride, Jessie Gilbert. One 
 is reminded in reading The Hawks of Hawk 
 Hollow of a letter to Bird from Nathaniel Parker 
 Willis, to whom Bird sent a set of his books. "I 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 91 
 
 wonder in reading these, it runs, how you could 
 afford to put so much material into a book. You 
 see I look at it with an author s eye. * The plot is 
 bewilderingly complex. There is a hurry and rush 
 of episode. Again the assortment of big characters 
 is ampler perhaps than the needs of one story, 
 Colonel Falconer, a hard, unemotional, dominating 
 man with a past ; Harriet Falconer, a daughter of 
 her father; Hyland Gilbert, a highbred lad with a 
 heart of honor and the instincts of a gentleman; 
 Oran Gilbert, "rough, unswayable, and free"; 
 Catharine Loring, feminine, amiable, lovely. Poe 
 found in the books all sorts of flaws and beauties. 
 "Its style, as we commonly use the word, is at 
 least equal to that of any American writer whatso 
 ever." Its un evenness of course struck him. 
 "Some portions of the book, we surmise, were 
 either not written by Dr. Bird or were written by 
 him in moments of the most utter mental exhaus 
 tion, " a condition Poe must have shared while 
 writing the review. " It is in many respects a bad 
 imitation of Sir Walter Scott." In the next sen 
 tence Poe continues, "Some of its characters and 
 one or two of its incidents have seldom been sur 
 passed, for force, fidelity to nature, and power of 
 exciting interest in the reader." Be this as it may, 
 its demand showed a steady appreciation. By 
 May of 1836, seven months after its issue, the 
 first statement from Carey & Lea records a sale 
 of 1860 copies. 
 
 1 Willis to Bird, letter undated. 
 
92 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 In the fall of 1835 Bird took another short 
 jaunt through the Middle West, leaving by way of 
 Virginia. On September 24th he writes from 
 Guyandotte, Virginia: "I am in a little village in 
 the extreme N. W. corner of the Cohee land, 150 m. 
 from Cincinnati, and about 170 from Lexington, 
 Ky. ; whitherward I hope to be able to proceed in a 
 steamboat to-morrow. On October 6th he writes 
 from Three Forks, Ky. : Here I am within seven 
 miles of the Mammoth Cave, and with my old 
 friend Grimes taking a nap at my elbow. We are 
 going to the cave to-morrow, where we expect to be 
 joined by one or two other gentlemen to have a 
 time of it caving, shooting, and fishing together 
 for ten days or two weeks." On October i6th he 
 writes from the steamboat Huntress off Cincinnati : 
 I am now on the way home, having visited the 
 Mammoth Cave, and resolved to return by the 
 easiest route; for in truth I am tired of rolling in 
 bad coaches over bad roads." The trip was sig 
 nificant for two reasons. Bird and Grimes again 
 explored the great cave to its innermost depths, 
 among the first Americans to do so. This expedi 
 tion Dr. Bird vividly described in a section of 
 Peter Pilgrim. He also visited the scenes, we are 
 told, that were to figure in his next romance. 
 Besides, it was the last time Bird was to see his 
 friend John Grimes, who died of consumption in 
 the winter of 1837, holding in his hand a letter of 
 Bird s to the last. Through the rest of his life the 
 name of Johnny Grimes" was Bird s strongest 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 93 
 
 synonym for unselfishness and perfect friend 
 ship. 
 
 In August of 1836 came the anonymous work 
 entitled Sheppard Lee, published by Harpers. 
 The book was so entirely unlike any that Bird had 
 done hitherto that John Frost, his close friend, 
 wrote to him as follows : 
 
 PHILA., Feb. 2, 1836. 
 
 DEAR BIRD, 
 
 M Clellen has taken up an absurd notion that 
 you are the author of a book called Sheppard 
 Lee published in New York last summer. He 
 came to me full of his discovery last night expect 
 ing to find that I knew something about it. 
 Knowing that you would be amazed at such an 
 imputation and believing that he would had 
 you to suspect if possible that I had counte 
 nanced the [idea] I write to clear myself of even 
 giving the slightest intimation to that effect to 
 him or any one living. I would come to you 
 but I am lame and so write. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 J. FROST. 
 
 Bird s reply, if he wrote one, has not been found , 
 but there must have been an amusing confession 
 and absolution when they met, as their warm 
 friendship suffered no interruption. 
 
 Sheppard Lee might -be called a psychological 
 novel. It recounts a series of mental and bodily 
 states through which Sheppard Lee, a New Jersey 
 farmer and an acute hypochondriac, mysteriously 
 passes. Disappointed in love and forced through 
 
94 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 mismanagement to forfeit the family estate, he 
 goes to a near-by graveyard and proceeds to dig for 
 a mysterious treasure. He strikes rock with such 
 force as to precipitate a trance from which his soul 
 insensibly emerges into the body of John Hazle- 
 wood Higginson, an influential colonel. He is 
 driven in a splendid barouche to the Higginson 
 house in Philadelphia, Chestnut St., south side, 
 etc., and installed into all that went with it, 
 servants, the gout, and a nagging, perverse Mrs. 
 Higginson. With the gout and a shrew on his 
 hands, the poor chap pardonably thinks of suicide. 
 He gradually makes the acquaintance of his aristo 
 cratic neighbors, among others, Mr. Periwinckle 
 Smith, whose charming daughter is the cause of 
 insomnia to a polished dandy by the name of 
 Isaac Dulwer Dawkins, Esq. Driven to frenzy 
 by envy and hardship, he resolves upon jumping 
 into the Schuylkill, goes to its banks for the pur 
 pose, but beholds I. Dulwer Dawkins already there 
 on the same errand. He recovers the body and 
 regains consciousness to find himself the very 
 same I. Dulwer Dawkins, Esq. He becomes full 
 possessor of his character and effects, beauty, 
 dash, scores of admiring ladies, plenty of poor 
 relatives, and debts by the hundreds. He is en 
 tangled in countless intrigues, but finally marries 
 Alicia Skinner, the miller s daughter, when the 
 worse luck of all ! he suddenly inhabits the corpse 
 of her father, Abram Skinner, a soured, tricky 
 pawnbroker with a rebellious daughter. From 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 95 
 
 such a despicable carcass the soul of Sheppard Lee 
 devoutly implores release. He looks about for a 
 desirable corpse and finds that of a philanthropic 
 Quaker, Zachariah Longstraw. Three further 
 abodes the wandering soul of Lee occupies, when 
 at last he imagines himself a cadaver under the 
 scalpel of a German student, Dr. Feuertaufel. 
 This scares him back into sanity ; he flees ; nor does 
 he stop until he has reached his old Jersey farm, 
 which his relatives have been good enough to 
 reserve for him. Here he shakes off his hypo 
 chondria and finds himself once more Sheppard 
 Lee. 
 
 Sheppard Lee is, as Poe put it, "a very clever 
 and not altogether unoriginal jeu d esprit." Its 
 incidents are well conceived, and related with 
 force, brevity, and a directness admirably suited 
 to such narratives. Poe, a master hand at such 
 narrative, found fault with the conception of the 
 metempsychosis. He (Bird) conceives his hero 
 endowed with some idiosyncrasy beyond the 
 common lot of human nature and thus introduces 
 him to a series of adventures which under ordinary 
 circumstances could occur only to a plurality of 
 persons. The chief source of interest in such a 
 narrative is or should be the contrasting of these 
 varied events in their influence upon a character 
 unchanging except as changed by the events 
 themselves." Poe further thought it a mistake to 
 leave the reader at the end with the impression 
 that the whole is a dream. His own method, Poe 
 
96 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 thought, would have been better i.e., avoiding 
 . . . that directness of expression which we have 
 noticed in Sheppard Lee and thus leaving much to 
 the imagination ... in short, by making use of 
 the infinity of arts which give verisimilitude to a 
 narration and by leaving the result as a wonder 
 not to be accounted for." Finally, it is to be 
 noticed, the hand of the physician is plainly ob 
 servable. Doctors play a prominent part. The 
 effects of mental derangement, the fear, the 
 harping on one thing, the excitement, the night 
 mare, are analyzed with the technical insight of a 
 physician. Sheppard Lee received from the press 
 the most favorable notices, but never enjoyed a 
 large sale. Its first edition appeared when the 
 book trade, on account of hard times, was in a 
 most depressed condition. Its publishers issued a 
 second edition with the revival of business, which, 
 however, sold hardly better than the first ; and as 
 late as 1839 they were negotiating with Lea & 
 Blanchard to dispose of their interest in the stereo 
 type plates of Sheppard Lee and the printed copies 
 on hand. 
 
 In March of 1837 Dr. Bird s most successful 
 story, Nick of the Woods, was published by Lea & 
 Blanchard. The suggestion for the story, it is to 
 be recalled, Bird had received many years before 
 from his Kentucky friend Dr. Black while they 
 were together on a stroll. On his western trips 
 he visited the scenes of the story and gathered 
 further material. The characters in some instances 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 97 
 
 were built on actual people. Ralph Stackpole, 
 Bird tells us in the preface, "is no portrait drawn 
 from imagination. The history of this wild scape- 
 gallows, his prowess in the pinfold and the battle 
 field, his adventure in the beech tree, and his 
 escape from the meshes of the law, with other 
 characteristic events not included in our relation, 
 are recollections still cherished in some parts of 
 Kentucky, and made the theme of many a glee- 
 some story." The story of Wandering Nathan 
 "has a similar foundation in truth; but its origin 
 belongs to one of the western counties of Pennsyl 
 vania. Here was a legend sufficiently near home 
 to hold the interest, sufficiently strange to stir 
 curiosity. It delineated that most picturesque 
 character which both Cooper and Simms had 
 drawn on effectively, the American Indian. But 
 how differently each conceived him! Cooper, of 
 course, has idealized the Indian in such characters 
 as Uncas and Chingachgook. Simms had studied 
 him through books and observation as well, and 
 has given us perhaps the truest picture. "From 
 the day," says Professor Trent, his biographer, 
 when he saw scores of drunken and naked Creeks 
 lying about the streets of Mobile, he was thor 
 oughly alive to their vices ; but from the time of his 
 sojourns in both Creek and Cherokee Nations 
 he had also been fully conscious of their many 
 undeniable virtues." Bird paints the Indian 
 frankly and unreservedly in the darkest colors. 
 He confessed himself quite unable to share the 
 
98 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 kindly view of the Indian held by other writers. 
 Chateaubriand, Cooper, Marmontel throw a poeti 
 cal illusion, he thought, over the Indian character. 
 He drew them as in his judgment they existed, 
 "ignorant, violent, debased, brutal." Further 
 more, he resented the opinion expressed by Mr. 
 W. H. Ainsworth in his English edition of Nick of 
 the Woods that the book was designed to inflame 
 the whites against the Indians, or to justify the 
 encroachments by the whites on Indian territory. 
 "We confess," he says in a prefatory statement, 
 "the North American savage has never appeared 
 to us the gallant and heroic personage he seems to 
 others. The fact that he wages war systematic 
 war upon beings incapable of resistance or defense 
 upon women and children, whom all other races 
 in the world, no matter how barbarous, consent to 
 spare, has hitherto been, and we suppose to the 
 end of our days will remain, a stumbling-block to 
 our imagination; we look into the woods for the 
 mighty warrior, the feather cinctured chief, 
 rushing to meet his foe and behold him retiring 
 laden with the scalps of miserable squaws and their 
 babes. Heroical? Hoc verbum quid valeat, non 
 vicent." 
 
 Rapidly as Bird s novels succeeded one another, 
 he found time also to write for the magazines which 
 were springing up in America during the first half 
 of the century with the utmost variety and pro 
 fusion. A strong sectional feeling throughout the 
 States tended to multiply the number. Most of 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 99 
 
 them, modeled on the English literary journals, 
 Blackwood s, Frazer s, The Edinburgh Review, had 
 high ambitions and were incessant in their requests 
 upon men like Dr. Bird, whose romances had 
 brought him impressively before the public. Be 
 sides, Bird numbered among his friends W. Gay- 
 lord and L. Gaylord Clark, James Lawson, 
 Thomas Cottrel Clarke, Charles Fenno Hoffman, 
 Samuel A. Howe, N. C. Brooks, and others. It 
 was inevitable that he should sooner or later be 
 concerned with the periodical, as contributor or 
 owner. Bird s juvenile pieces in Snowden s have 
 already been noticed. Early in the thirties Louis 
 A. Godey, who in July of 1830 had founded his 
 popular Lady s Book, asked Bird for articles, or if 
 he had none on hand "to hammer me out of one 
 of your solid pieces about twenty-five dollars worth 
 of Literature." In January of 1834 appeared a 
 new periodical edited by Henry Vethake, Esq., 
 called The United States Review. It was a quar 
 terly of some 250 pages and was to be concerned, 
 ran the Prospectus, with "the exploits of the his 
 torian, the orator, and the poet rather than with 
 those of the mathematician . For the first number 
 Bird was asked to write an article on * Reviewing, 
 and to become a regular contributor. Of course 
 numerous bits of verse, struck off, his wife tells us, 
 in moments of relaxation, appeared from time to 
 time. In March of 1 834 The Beech Tree," a lyric, 
 appeared in the New York Mirror; in January, 1835, 
 "The China Tree," another, in Knickerbockers; 
 
ioo LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 in February, 1835, in the New England Magazine 
 "To Governor M Duffie," an occasional poem de 
 nouncing the Governor of South Carolina who in 
 the nullification squabble called the Constitution 
 of the United States "that miserable mockery of 
 blurred and obliterated and tattered parchment. 
 "An Evening Ode" appeared in Knickerbocker s, 
 February, 1 835 ; "An Address, an occasional poem 
 at the Wood Complimentary Benefit, in The 
 National Gazette, January, 1836. Poe had for 
 some time desired Bird to contribute to the 
 Southern Literary Messenger. Other duties made 
 it impossible for Bird to comply. In consequence 
 Poe repeated his request. 
 
 RICHMOND, VA., 
 June 7, 1836. 
 
 DR. SIR, 
 
 I take the liberty of again addressing you, 
 and of calling your attention to what was not 
 precisely a promise on your part, but a kind of 
 demi-promise made some months ago, in rela 
 tion to an article for our Southern Literary 
 Messenger. It would be indeed, a matter of 
 sincere congratulation with us, if, by any means 
 within our power, we could so far interest you 
 in our behalf as to obtain something from the 
 author of Calavar. We have, just at this 
 moment, a conspiracy on foot, and we would be 
 most happy to engage you in our plans. We 
 wish, if possible, to take the public opinion by 
 storm in a single number of The Messenger which 
 shall contain a series of articles from all the first 
 pens in the land. Can you not aid us with a 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 101 
 
 single page if no more? I will trust to the chival- 
 ric spirit of him who wrote The Infidel for a reply. 
 With the highest respect, 
 
 Yr. ob. st. 
 DR. ROBERT M. BIRD. EDGAR A, POE? 
 
 I *, C *, 
 
 One article contributed by Dr. "Bird^to <Kipjf,ker- t 
 backer s in October, 1835, is of significance in the 
 history of international copyright. It is entitled 
 " Community of Copy-Right Between the United 
 States and Great Britian." After a short state 
 ment of the injustice of the world to authors and 
 inventors generally, he takes occasion to score the 
 copyright laws then in force in America. The act 
 of the third of February, 1831, he points out, ex 
 tends the privileges of copyright * to any person or 
 persons, being a citizen or citizens of the United 
 States, or resident therein, who shall be the author 
 or authors of any book or books," etc., and to no 
 others. "To be a citizen, or a resident of the 
 United States, is therefore essential, by law, to the 
 enjoyment of the privilege. The restriction is 
 positive, and peculiar to America, which, in it, 
 excels all other governments in rapacity and mean 
 ness." From the provision, he thought, a twofold 
 injustice results. In the first place British authors 
 received no returns whatever from the sale of their 
 books in this country. "Walter Scott never re 
 ceived a cent on the sale of his works in America, " 
 
 1 This letter is in the Archives of the Historical Society of 
 Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. For a list of Dr. Bird s contribu 
 tions to the magazines see Appendix B. 
 
102 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 although New York did raise a subscription, it was 
 said, of sixty thousand dollars "to rescue Abbots- 
 ford from the hands of the creditors, and secure it 
 to the heirs of the great novelist." By far the 
 greater -hardship, however, was wrought upon the 
 American author. Paying nothing to the British 
 an^ho*, the. American publisher selected what 
 foreign works he chose, and issued them at a 
 very low price, content to receive the bookseller s 
 profit. An American work, on the other hand, 
 had to bring a price which secured a remuneration 
 to the author as well as the publisher. In conse 
 quence the former invariably undersold the latter. 
 As Dr. Bird put it, "It is indeed egregious non 
 sense to expect an American book to leave the 
 bookseller s shelves, when an English reprint lies 
 by it, of equal merit and one half the price." The 
 burden of the article in brief was that the act of 
 1831, purified by the removal of the clause above 
 quoted, "would be tantamount in effect to the 
 passage of an international copyright law betwixt 
 America and Great Britain." 
 
 As a consequence of this article, in part at least, 
 Dr. Bird received the following letter from Harriet 
 Martineau, urging his aid in pushing a petition 
 regarding international copyright. It was accom 
 panied by a petition, which incorporated many of 
 Bird s views and, it seems, specifically referred to a 
 portion of the Knickerbocker article. x 
 
 1 The petition in part ran as follows: "American authors are 
 injured by the non-existence of the desired law. While American 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 103 
 
 LONDON, Novbr. 8, 1836. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 This petition tells its own story, except that 
 you do not see the signatures. It is very illus 
 triously signed. We hope the names of Broug 
 ham, Wordsworth, and Miss Edgeworth will be 
 at the top. 
 
 The Americans in London urge that the 
 Authors of the United States shd. petition Con 
 gress, both houses, to the same effect, at the 
 same time : I have written to most of my literary 
 friends, to rouse them to this. If it could be 
 done, we should we are told pretty certainly 
 have the desired law this session. You see how 
 close an interest you Amern. authors have in our 
 property not being stolen to enrich the book 
 sellers and lessen the value of your works. 
 
 If you can do anything in this matter, I am 
 sure you will : not making confidants of any book- 
 sellers, but communicating with brother and 
 sister authors. 
 
 I make no apology for writing to you on this 
 subject : for we each desire the welfare of science 
 
 publishers can provide themselves with works for publication by 
 unjust appropriation, instead of by equitable purchase, they are 
 under no inducement to afford to American authors a fair re 
 muneration for their labors: under which grievance American 
 authors have no redress but in sending over their works to Eng 
 land to be published, an expedient which has become an estab 
 lished practice with some of whom their country has most reason 
 ,to be proud. . . . Your petitioners beg humbly to remind your 
 Honors of the case of Walter Scott, as stated by an esteemed 
 citizen of the United States, that while the works of this author, 
 dear alike to your country and to ours, were read from Maine to 
 Georgia, from the Atlantic to the Mississippi, he received no 
 remuneration from the American public for his labors." The 
 Critic, April 21, 1888. 
 
104 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 and literature; and have each a personal interest 
 in the passage of this Law. Believe me, dear 
 Sir, 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 HARRIET MARTINEAU. 
 Dr. BIRD, 
 PHILADA., PA. 
 
 Notwithstanding their cause was a common one, 
 Dr. Bird in a draft of a reply to Miss Martin eau, 
 January 20, 1837, roundly attacks the petition. 
 To his mind, it was singularly injudicious and ob 
 jectionable; it was too argumentative and exhorta- 
 tory ; it breathed a tone of complaint and reproach. 
 Furthermore, it denounced a respectable class of 
 American citizens, the booksellers. It made a 
 tactless reference to the prejudices of purchasers 
 in "the respective sections of the Union," which 
 was an invasion of our private concerns. He 
 advises a revision of the petition so that it would 
 be "a petition in fact, a simple, briefly expressed 
 and dignified claim to a privilege which they think 
 they should be allowed to enjoy. 
 
 Two other works require mention with the 
 romances of Dr. Bird. Peter Pilgrim, or A Ram 
 bler s Recollections, published by Lea & Blanchard 
 in October of 1838, is a collection of tales and 
 experiences gathered on his trips through the 
 South and West. Two of the pieces had appeared 
 in the American Monthly, "A Tale of the Snag" 
 and The Mammoth Cave ; another, The Extra 
 Lodger," was published in the New York Mirror. 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 105 
 
 The most interesting chapters of a rather indiffer 
 ent collection are those on the Mammoth Cave. 
 Caves had long been a special study with Dr. Bird. 
 With John Grimes he was among the first to ex 
 plore this biggest of caves, and to set forth an 
 accurate account of its grottoes, pits, and galleries. 
 The rest of the recollections comprises a mis 
 cellaneous collection of odds and ends. According 
 to Mrs. Bird, Dr. Bird s health had begun to 
 break and he was obliged to throw together his 
 materials for the volume more hastily than was his 
 wont. The Adventures of Robin Day, his last 
 romance, was published in April, 1839, and was 
 written under stress of great physical suffering. 
 It is a rather loose-woven yarn of improbable 
 adventures. The earlier portion, however, is of 
 autobiographical value ; and according to his wife, 
 "embodied a good deal of his own youthful ex 
 perience at school." 1 
 
 Bird s romances, in America, brought a fair re 
 muneration. His precise returns it is, of course, 
 impossible to fix; but from accounts in his own 
 hand and from the semi-annual statements from 
 his publishers some idea can be had of his income. 
 The following table is based upon these semi 
 annual statements, and indicates the number of 
 
 1 Deserving mention with the romances of Dr. Bird is the frag 
 ment of an Indian story entitled Ipsico Poe, the Long Hunter. 
 Bird stopped with chapter xiv., at which point it was taken up 
 by his son Frederick Mayer Bird, and completed. It was pub 
 lished under the title A Belated Revenge in Lippincott s Magazine, 
 November, 1889. 
 
io6 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 copies sold and Bird s share of the profits, of his 
 four chief romances. 
 
 R. M. Bird in acct. with 
 
 Carey & Lea, Lea & Blanchard. 
 
 Calavar (pub. Oct., 1834) Infidel (pub. May, 1835) 
 Date of Statement No. sold Bird s prof. No. sold Bird s prof. 
 
 1650.35 
 
 94.42 
 14.40 
 36.60 
 
 May 7, 1835 
 
 1292 
 
 $356.28 
 
 .... 
 
 Nov. 12, 1835 
 
 303 
 
 161.23 
 
 1551 
 
 May 9, 1836 
 
 
 
 
 
 Dec. 31, 1836 
 
 442 
 
 174-43 
 
 308 
 
 Jan. i, 1838 
 March 18, 1839 
 
 234 
 278 
 
 25-75 
 60. 16 
 
 80 
 154 
 
 Hawks of Hawk Hollow 
 (pub. Sept., 1835) 
 
 Nick of the Woods 
 (pub. March, 1837) 
 
 No. sold Bird s prof. No. sold Bird s prof. 
 
 i860 
 248 
 130 
 183 
 
 $779-03 
 83-90 
 26.13 
 43-40 
 
 2447 
 281 
 
 % 1 150.37 
 144.27 
 
 Bird s novels were also published in England by 
 Bentley and others, in several cases with altered 
 titles. Calavar was published in four volumes in 
 J 835 by Newman & Co., London, as Abdalla, the 
 Moor, and the Spanish Knight. The Infidel ap 
 peared in a London edition of three volumes in 
 1835 as Cortes: or The Fall of Mexico. The Hawks 
 of Hawk Hollow was similarly published in 1837 
 under its own name. London editions of Peter 
 Pilgrim and of Robin Day, each in two volumes, 
 appeared in 1839 and the most successful of his 
 stories, abroad as at home, was Nick of the Woods, 
 which first appeared in London in three volumes in 
 
A PROLIFIC NOVELIST 107 
 
 1837, edited by W. H. Ainsworth. It ran through 
 a number of editions and was translated into 
 German, Die Gefahren der Wildnis. Eine Erzah- 
 lung fur die reifere Jugend. Nach dem Englis- 
 chen (Nick of the Wood) bearbeitet von Franz 
 Hoffmann. Mit Bildern. Stuttgart, 1847, 8. 
 From these foreign editions Dr. Bird, according to 
 his wife, received nothing, except that unsubstan 
 tial phantom, reputation. l 
 
 1 See App endix A. Three of Bird s novels were dramatized 
 The Infidel was dramatized by Benjamin H. Brewster and played 
 in Philadelphia in 1 835 ; The Hawks of Hawk Hollow was put on the 
 stage in 1841; Nick of the Woods was dramatized by Louisa 
 Medina in 1838 and proved one of the most successful melo 
 dramas of the time. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 MARRIAGE, FARMING, TEACHING, AND POLITICS 
 
 IN order to treat together the novels of Dr. Bird, 
 we have advanced our story to the year 1839. In 
 so doing we have run ahead somewhat of his per 
 sonal narrative. To this we must now turn and 
 record two events that were to be of largest con 
 sequence, his marriage and his failing health. 
 
 In the copious assortment of letters for the year 
 1837 there is one of special interest. It is written 
 by Dr. Bird to his favorite cousin, Dorcas Van 
 Dyke, then Mrs. Charles Irenee Du Pont. 
 
 PHILADA., July 9, 1837. 
 
 MY DEAR COUSIN, 
 
 I send you word by Mr. Du Pont that I should 
 be extremely happy if your health and con 
 venience would permit you to be present at a 
 certain wedding about to take place, and en 
 gaged to give you early information of the day 
 thereof. The day is now appointed, Thursday 
 next, at half past eleven in the morning, the 
 ceremony to take place at church where I 
 repeat it will give me great pleasure to see you. 
 Although in church the wedding is to be entirely 
 private, I inviting (besides mother and Miss 
 Kitty who will be present of course) nobody but 
 108 
 
MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 109- 
 
 yourself and Mr. Du Pont and also little cousin 
 Mary, who is invited by her cousin that is to be. 
 The ceremony over, I carry my bride home, 
 where, after receiving a few of her friends, we 
 shall have a family dinner to which I also in 
 vite you. I should ask you in addition to take 
 up quarters with us ; but I suppose we shall have 
 to surrender all extra space for the honey-days 
 to my new sisters. 
 
 Pray consider this news as confidential (the 
 day and the place are both a secret) and believe 
 me 
 
 Your affectionate cousin 
 
 ROBT. M. BIRD. 
 MRS. DORCAS M. Du PONT 
 LOUVIERS 
 
 near BRANDYWINE, DELAWARE. 
 
 It was thus that Bird announced his marriage, 
 which took place on Thursday morning, July 13, 
 1837. His bride was Miss Mary Mayer, daughter 
 of the Rev. Philip F. Mayer, who performed the 
 ceremony in his own church, old St. John s, Race 
 Street, above Fifth, Philadelphia. Bird s acquaint 
 ance with the Mayers extended back to about 
 1830, at which time begins a sequence of letters 
 from Miss Mary and Miss Caroline Mayer, her 
 sister, that possess a remarkable charm and in 
 terest. The Mayer family was one of great piety 
 and refinement. Philip Mayer was one of Phila 
 delphia s most venerable clergymen, and a pioneer 
 of Lutheranism in America. He was the first 
 American pastor to divest Lutheranism of its 
 
no LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 exclusively German character by conducting the 
 service in English. For fifty-two years he sturdily 
 preached the word to his only charge, old St. 
 John s Church. He was also a man of widest 
 interests and at various times served as President 
 of the Philadelphia Dispensary, President of the 
 Institution of the Deaf and Dumb, and a Trustee 
 of the University of Pennsylvania. 
 
 After his marriage Dr. Bird made his home at 
 No. 140 North Twelfth Street, Philadelphia, and 
 with the enlargement of power that "love, home, 
 ease, and happiness bring" gave himself to his pen 
 most unremittingly. In March of 1837 he had 
 completed Nick of the Woods. He had already 
 written some of the tales for Peter Pilgrim, and 
 was at work on others. In addition he now became 
 engaged in what proved his largest magazine 
 venture. For some time there had been talk of 
 founding in America a periodical which should 
 broadly and worthily represent the nation as a 
 whole; hitherto no American magazine had quite 
 succeeded in surmounting the strong sectional 
 feeling that existed through the States, rooted 
 partly in rivalry and partly in political differences. 
 This feeling at times was of extreme bitterness. 
 For an example, one need only recall, the relations 
 between Poe, then editing the Southern Literary 
 Messenger and the "Metropolitan litterateurs" 
 represented by Knickerbocker s and The New York 
 Mirror. The only periodicals that had anything 
 like a nation-wide appeal were the British quar- 
 
MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. in 
 
 terlies and monthlies, or those at home which 
 derived a certain eclat from their foreign contribu 
 tions. The result, as Charles Fenno Hoffman 
 wrote to Bird, "was to denationalize our upper 
 classes, all their thinking is done abroad." With 
 two attempts to found such a magazine Bird was 
 now concerned. The first was a plan of Thomas 
 Cottrel Clarke. Clarke had recently sold his inter 
 est in The Saturday Courier on such terms as to 
 place at his disposal "ample means and leisure"; 
 and had outlined a magazine "on a more liberal 
 plan than anything that has yet been attempted 
 in Philadelphia." 1 The Courier, of which he re 
 mained an assistant editor, had a circulation of 
 twenty-six thousand and through this he hoped 
 to make the new venture known. Clarke invited 
 Bird to undertake the editorial management of the 
 new publication. In a letter of November 13, 
 1836, Bird defers a definitive answer to Clarke, 
 wishing a fuller "understanding of each other s 
 aims and expectations. In the meantime Charles 
 Fenno Hoffman had drawn up a plan for a national 
 magazine. He aimed primarily at the absorption 
 of sectional rivalry by publishing simultaneously 
 from Boston, New York, and Philadelphia The 
 American Monthly Magazine, a journal that had 
 already enlarged its scope by the absorption of 
 three others, The American Monthly Review, 
 The United States Magazine, and The New England 
 Magazine. On January n, 1837, Hoffman offered 
 
 1 Clarke to Bird, November 9, 1836. 
 
U2 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 Bird the position of Philadelphia editor. His 
 duties were to read and sift articles and to obtain 
 or write reviews. He was to receive a yearly 
 salary of $500 and $2 per page for work of his own. 
 This offer Bird accepted and a prospectus dated 
 February, 1837, announced him an associate 
 editor of The American Monthly Magazine with 
 Mr. Hoffman in New York and Mr. Park ^Ben 
 jamin in Boston. In May and June of 1837 he 
 wrote for the new venture two articles on the 
 Mammoth Cave; in August, (i A Tale of a Snag, " 
 material for which, also, he had gathered in the 
 Mississippi Valley on his Western trips. It seems 
 he was planning, too, a new magazine of his own. 
 Among his manuscripts I find detailed notes for 
 The Adelphi, a literary monthly; a Philadelphia 
 Weekly Gazette, a register of letters, arts, and news; 
 and The New Whig Monthly. Furthermore, he was 
 receiving requests from many editors, with some 
 of which he complied. But on the whole he wrote 
 comparatively little for the periodicals. The 
 reason he thus plainly states in a letter to Dr. 
 Samuel G. Howe, who had asked him to contrib 
 ute to The New England Magazine. 
 
 "Neither my habits nor my inclinations as I 
 will frankly confess have ever led me to write 
 for periodicals ; and the very few pieces of mine 
 which have been printed were given, in all 
 cases, at the request of personal friends. I am 
 entirely of too discursive and diffuse a turn . . . 
 to shine in a nutshell; and I have always felt 
 
MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 113 
 
 more disposed to count by acts and chapters 
 than by lines and paragraphs." 1 
 
 Those who have followed thus far the career of 
 Dr. Bird must have early observed one fact, the 
 killing pace at which he worked. Between Janu 
 ary, 1834, an d March, 1837, he had produced four 
 novels; furthermore, they were of an order to 
 strike Nathaniel Parker Willis, with wonder how 
 he could afford to put so much material into a 
 book," requiring exact portraiture and extensive 
 research. Within this term also he had finished 
 The Broker of Bogota, and had written with much 
 other verse three complete cantos of The Cave, 
 a descriptive poem of large dimensions. Besides, 
 as we have noted, he contributed to magazines and 
 assisted in editing The American Monthly. The 
 mere labor of penmanship in such an amount of 
 composition is only realized when one examines 
 the reams of extant manuscript. But the cost of 
 such an accomplishment was as sure as it was 
 heavy; in 1833 and again in 1835 he had taken 
 trips West to avert threatened breakdowns. With 
 the enlarged opportunities that now came to him, 
 his mode of life became correspondingly more 
 sedentary and unhygienic. He ate, his wife 
 relates, two meals a day, took little or no exercise; 
 and, to escape the din and distraction of city 
 streets, gradually fell into the habit of writing 
 largely at night. The effects of such a regime 
 
 1 Bird to Howe, letter undated. 
 
114 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 were inevitable, and his health began to show the 
 signs of a serious collapse. As a result of impaired 
 digestion he became nearly blind for weeks. In 
 November of 1837 he was forced to sunder his 
 relations with The American Monthly. He ar 
 ranged and revised Peter Pilgrim at considerable 
 disadvantage and wrote Robin Day under the 
 pressure of actual suffering. Besides, there were 
 worries from without. The publishing trade was 
 disorganized throughout the country as a conse 
 quence of hard times. Bird was not alone to feel 
 the pinch. Lea & Blanchard writing to Poe shortly 
 after regarding a second edition of the tales, was 
 very desirous of being relieved of publication "at 
 cost or even at a small abatement." Publishers 
 everywhere preferred selling to buying. In June, 
 1838, Bird had a son born to him, Frederick Mayer 
 Bird, bringing upon him its welcome but yet 
 additional burden of obligations. * With an over 
 taxed mind, failing sight, and a breaking body Dr. 
 Bird at the solicitation of his friends and with a 
 sense of responsibility to his family, decided to 
 abandon literature and seek health in agriculture. 
 From his letters it seems he thought of buying a 
 
 1 Frederick Mayer Bird (1838-1908) inherited many of the 
 versatile talents of his father. Graduating at the University of 
 Pennsylvania and Union Theological Seminary, New York, he 
 held various pastorates and professorships until in 1881 he became 
 chaplain and professor of Psychology, Christian Evidence, and 
 Rhetoric at Lehigh University. He was editor of Lippincott s 
 Magazine, 1893-98, and of Chandler s Encyclopedia, 1898. He 
 was also a widely known hymnologist and numismatist. 
 
MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 115 
 
 farm in Maryland in January, 1837. It was not 
 until 1839 that he bought one "in Bohemian Neck 
 on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, situated on the 
 Elk about seven miles below Elkton." Hither it 
 was his intention to move in the spring of 1839. 
 He was prevented from doing so and in March, 
 1839, occupied a house in New Castle belonging 
 to his brother, No. 411 Delaware Street. Here, in 
 the place of his birth, he rested for a year, indulging 
 hobbies and amassing all sorts of agricultural lore. 
 On March 13, 1840, he occupied the farm. 
 
 Dr. Bird s life at Cabin Cove, or Bending Cove, 
 or Bendico, or Bird s Nest, as he variously named 
 his Maryland farm, is one of the most charming 
 episodes in his career. Hither he retired, racked 
 and jaded by the strain of city life, to the healing 
 quiet of the countryside. Nor could he have 
 chosen a lovelier spot. The farm itself with its 
 three hundred acres of wooded uplands and shining 
 water front was as rich in beauty as in soil. 
 "Never was there a more beautiful river" he 
 writes to his wife of the Elk. "It looks Susque- 
 hannaish. I wish you could have seen it yesterday 
 in the glorious misty calm, the piney headlands, 
 blue hills, the dark and gleaming waters." Along 
 its sandy banks he could hear the "fishermen 
 singing their boat songs all day and all night." 
 Three miles off was the steamboat landing and 
 right before their door steamers could be seen 
 passing each other at half past ten each morning. 
 Their dwelling was a cabin, "old, ugly, inconven- 
 
u6 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 ient, and shockingly out of repair" in Bird s own 
 words, but rain-tight and "as good and rather 
 better than most other houses in the manor." 
 On a shady side of it he built a workshop, and in 
 stalled a bench and tools. Here was labor for the 
 hands of every kind and into it Bird threw himself 
 body and soul. He rose at half past four in the 
 morning and bent to his chores until half past eight 
 at night. Asking pardon of his wife, as yet in New 
 Castle, for not writing, he complains he had "to 
 make fence, build pump, split palings, dig post 
 holes, measure land, mark lumber, and the Lord 
 knows what." The Elk, then as now, abounded 
 in pike, perch, rock, and herring ; and each season 
 fishermen came with their pound-nets, traps, and 
 tackle to fish for shares. Bird had always on the 
 place "two good darkies"; but in the oats season 
 fourteen hands came with their cradles. His 
 neighbors were apparently primitive to a degree. 
 "The people," he writes, "are all savages here, 
 western like, live in cabins, without furniture; 
 don t know the name or use of any chattel beyond 
 bed, chair, and table; are amazed at a bureau, 
 petrified at a pier-table, and come far and near to 
 beg a look at your toilet." 
 
 Of his activities at Cabin Cove Dr. Bird has 
 left records of first interest. No less than seven 
 notebooks labelled "Agriculture" No. i, No. 2, and 
 so on remain written with characteristic neatness 
 and style, and illustrated with plans and diagrams. 
 He interested himself in every phase of farming; 
 
MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 117 
 
 devoured journals, read scientific treatises, and 
 conducted experiments. He thought of improving 
 hemp culture by cropping the same field each 
 year instead of rotating, then the common practice. 
 He compared the various methods of dressing it, 
 pool rotting and steam rotting. He devised a new 
 method of sulphuring manure to prevent undue 
 fermentation; of extracting oil from opium by 
 means of rollers instead of by incision ; of cultivat 
 ing sanguinaria used for dyeing purposes, but 
 hitherto difficult to obtain in large enough quanti 
 ties. He studied the production of madder, the 
 virtues and uses of its roots ; the relative merits of 
 hedges, the evergreen, green brier, dogbrier, and 
 privet. He tested a plan practiced in Bohemia of 
 propagating apple trees. "The process is to take 
 the shoots from the choicest sorts, insert them 
 into potatoes, and plunge both into the ground, 
 leaving but an inch or two of the shoot above the 
 surface. The potato nourishes the shoot, while it 
 pushes out roots. He investigated the production 
 and possible uses of the pea vine, sesame, nettle, 
 ground nuts, pink-root, acorns; and so on. He 
 also applied his rare powers mechanically, and his 
 notebooks are full of the most ingenious notions 
 for new farming implements. He outlined a con 
 trivance for removing stumps, a method of de 
 stroying the Hessian fly by swabbing the wheat 
 with tobacco, hellebore, and aloes "by a water- 
 cart . . . having a flannel bag by way of a swab 
 through which the fluid is slowly discharged." 
 
ii8 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 More ingenious than practicable is Dr. Bird s 
 suggestion of a Pig Mill by which the whole sty is 
 placed "on an inclined wheel haltering them to 
 fixed troughs, in which a little food might be 
 placed to start them. . . . The lazy beasts would 
 perhaps be none the worse for a little exercise. A 
 dozen of them would perhaps do the work of an 
 ox." But the favorite scheme of Dr. Bird s was a 
 method of making bricks. The materials were to 
 be coal dust, turf, and clay wrought to the proper 
 temper in large iron cylinders. By means of a 
 mechanical cutting arrangement of large racks 
 and drying-sheds with movable roofs the process 
 was made much swifter and less laborious. Be 
 sides, Dr. Bird seems to have gathered a large fund 
 of agricultural lore on many subjects, banking 
 and drainage, coal tar, marl beds, the nutritive 
 value in different plants and roots for cattle 
 feeding. These are by no means all of the varied 
 and numerous plans and ideas that the new occu 
 pation struck form from Dr. Bird s teeming mind. 
 At Cabin Cove, Bird did little with the pen. It 
 was his intention while there to write a history of 
 the United States, for which he had gathered 
 material many years. Lea & Blanchard had 
 stated a wish to publish it and now wrote Bird 
 that they had "to keep the presses moving" and 
 would be glad to have the book, mildly reproving 
 him that he had not gone to work more resolutely. 
 There was a slackened demand, it seems, for 
 novels and the lighter forms. But history is not 
 
MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 119 
 
 to be written in the fag ends of long work days. 
 In a letter to his wife, April 15, 1840, Bird declares, 
 History of the United States, indeed ! If I wrote 
 anything, it must be a history of my own bothers." 
 In consequence he did hardly more on the book 
 than to sift material and make notes. 
 
 It was at this time that the only attempt to 
 stage Pelopidas, Bird s first prize tragedy, was 
 made. The play had been accepted, it is to be 
 remembered, by Edwin Forrest, though never 
 performed nor paid for. Its literary merit had 
 won the confidence of Dr. George McClellan and 
 John Frost, who had interested William E. Burton. 
 William E. Burton had recently sold to George R. 
 Graham his celebrated Gentleman s Magazine and 
 had built a new Philadelphia theater on Chestnut 
 Street, where the Continental Hotel now stands. 
 In April, 1840, Burton accepted certain terms 
 proposed by Dr. McClellan regarding Pelopidas, 
 and promised to bring out the play in the fall. At 
 the time nothing more seems to have been done, 
 although the play was not submitted. On Sep 
 tember ist Dr. McClellan again urges Dr. Bird 
 to come to terms. Burton wants to bring out the 
 Pelopidas immediately. Scott has been faithful 
 and made a stipulation with Burton to provide a 
 [clearer] chance for Pelopidas. The offer is to put 
 the play in immediate rehearsal and bring it out if 
 possible on the i8th instant." On that date, it 
 seems, Edwin Forrest was to bring out Conrad s 
 Jack Cade at the old Chestnut Street House. 
 
120 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 With a chivalry that marked the man, Dr. Bird 
 demurred out of pure deference to his friend, Judge 
 Conrad. "I really think," McClellan writes on 
 September I7th, "you are too delicate and scrupu 
 lous in your feelings about the bringing out of your 
 play. Conrad would not have cared if his Conrad 
 of Naples had sent The Gladiator to the devil, nor 
 would he now care though his piece of radical 
 rascality were to row poor Pelopidas up salt river. 
 A last attempt to have the play staged was made 
 by John Frost, to whom Burton then wrote: 
 
 J. FROST, Esqr. 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 I will produce Pelopidas with all possible 
 splendor and befitting appointments. I will 
 share with the author the proceeds of the house, 
 nightly, the same as with a principal star, de 
 ducting the expenses, averaging $250, with a 
 third of the gross proceeds of the seventh night, 
 clear of all deductions, for the author s profit, 
 reserving to myself the sole use of the tragedy in 
 the City of Philadelphia, so long as I remain 
 manager, but making no claim for its use in any 
 other city, the profits of said use in other cities 
 to be at the author s own disposal. 
 
 I believe that the production of Pelopidas will 
 answer the purposes of all concerned. I pledge 
 myself that it shall be produced in a superior 
 way, and that the character shall be well sup 
 ported. 
 
 I am, my dear Sir, 
 
 Your obedt Servt 
 
 W. E. BURTON. 
 
 NAT. THEATRE, PHIL A., 
 Dec. 15, 1840. 
 
MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 121 
 
 P. S. Should Dr. Bird prefer, I will give him 
 ten per cent on the gross receipts nightly whenever 
 the Tragedy is played. 
 
 There can be little question of the success of 
 Pelopidas had it been given. Burton had taken 
 fortune by the forelock. He was well backed; his 
 new house was thronged daily; he had engaged 
 one of the best stock companies to be had in the 
 States. He had won the people s confidence; and 
 they were ready "to puff everything produced," 
 as McClellan wrote Bird, "to the height and depth 
 of its merits." Furthermore, he expressed a wish 
 to have all that Bird could write for him and would 
 "push them all " in other cities. What it was that 
 induced Dr. Bird to hold back his play is not plain. 
 It may have been in part at least a dislike to engage 
 in rivalry with Conrad ; or possibly an absorption 
 in other matters ; or a distaste for a phase of litera 
 ture that years before had wrought him such in 
 justice. The fact only remains he did not submit 
 Pelopidas. 
 
 But if labor with the pen at Cabin Cove yielded 
 little, the work of his hands, the fresh air, and the 
 quiet life on a farm soon brought health and invig- 
 oration. "I am as hearty, " he writes to his wife, 
 September 22, 1840, "as if I never had ailed." 
 His sight mended; his face acquired, we are told, 
 the florid tints of "an Englishman." In a word, 
 his term of life was unquestionably prolonged by 
 the change. But a productive farm of three hun- 
 
122 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 dred acres entails other considerations. Rich as 
 was the soil, there was an instant need for large 
 improvement, all of which was heavily expensive. 
 The year s crops had been what the farmers call 
 "a failure." Besides, the prospect of spending 
 the winter with a wife and child in hardly more 
 than a cabin was far from attractive. Conse 
 quently on September 25, 1840, Dr. Bird thinks of 
 moving to New Castle "more sorry to leave the 
 farm than I can express. I cannot look around me 
 but my eyes fill. Here we could and might have 
 been so happy, had my beggarly fate been a little 
 more propitious. The season of health and delight 
 has just begun. . . . All is peace and beauty. . . . 
 Yes, the beauty of Bendico is just beginning. " x 
 Shortly after he moved his family to the house in 
 New Castle, No. 411 Delaware Street. It is from 
 this time that our only first-hand impression of Dr. 
 Bird dates. Miss Emily Rodney, of the well- 
 known Delaware family, once a playmate of Bird s 
 son, remembers the dramatist, a tall, large, im 
 pressive figure, clad in a cloak, with spectacles, 
 a characteristic erectness of head, and a stride 
 of unusual energy in his walks about New 
 Castle. 2 
 
 In the spring of 1841 Dr. Bird turned to a pro 
 fession for which he was superbly fitted, but which 
 
 1 Bird to Mrs. Bird, September 25, 1840. 
 
 8 1 am indebted for this account of Dr. Bird to Mr. Henry 
 Hanby Hay of New Castle, a brother-in-law of Miss Emily 
 Rodney. 
 
MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 123 
 
 to him was always the most irksome of tasks, 
 teaching. In the fall of 1839 a new medical college 
 had been founded in Philadelphia, located on 
 Filbert Street above Eleventh and known as the 
 Pennsylvania Medical College. . In origin it was a 
 branch of the Pennsylvania College at Gettysburg. 
 By a special act of the Legislature in 1839-40 it 
 was empowered to grant degrees in the city of 
 Philadelphia and given privileges equal with other 
 medical schools of the State, the Faculty thus 
 becoming virtually a board of trustees. Upon it 
 were eminent physicians and warm personal friends 
 of Dr. Bird, Drs. William Rush, George Mc- 
 Clellan, Samuel G. Morton, and Walter R. John 
 son, his old teacher at German town Academy. 
 The College numbered a student body of some 250 
 men. At this institution Bird was offered the 
 professorship of the Institute of Medicine and 
 Materia Medica, made vacant by the death of Dr. 
 Calhoun, which he accepted in May, 1841. Leav 
 ing his family in New Castle, he went to Philadel 
 phia and took lodgings at No. 20 Montgomery 
 Square, Race Street above Tenth, and later at No. 
 28 North Eighth Street. 
 
 Among Bird s extant papers are his lectures in 
 Materia Medica with two printed addresses. 
 They are written with all the ease of phrase, the 
 wealth of allusion and anecdote that only a man of 
 his literary gifts could command. Reading alone 
 suffices to disclose their grace of form and interest. 
 For such a one teaching would supposedly have 
 
124 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 been a delight ; the opposite, however, seems em 
 phatically to have been the case. Of course, the 
 circumstances were in part accountable. On 
 December 12, 1841, he writes to his wife, "I am 
 kept too mulishly busy to enjoy care. The class 
 is very small, under eighty, I believe. There was 
 a ridiculous mistake about its being near one 
 hundred. Of course I shall make very little money ; 
 and of course also I am disheartened. Neverthe 
 less, my colleagues are in such good spirits that 
 they talk of building a new college, having sundry 
 tempting offers there anent. I don t know what I 
 shall do; I have not time yet to make up my 
 opinion. My feeling is to retire in the spring ; but I 
 have till the spring and some time after to think 
 about it. I certainly do unutterably detest this 
 living and drudging a whole winter in separation, 
 and all for nothing. The work expended on my 
 lectures would have written my Hist, of U. S. ; 
 but I don t know, indeed, that the history would 
 have paid me any better, these hard times. Oh, 
 for a little ease, and quiet, and laziness." The 
 second year was not more pleasant. On July 
 n, 1842, he writes, "The two months crept away 
 very slowly, and instead of rejoicing that a week of 
 the term is passed away, I grumble because it is 
 not two or three. However, Sunday will bring us 
 to the middle of the month and then there will 
 remain but six weeks more bother or at least of 
 lecturing." Notwithstanding Dr. Bird gave two 
 full courses of lectures in 1841-42 and 1842-43, 
 
MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 125 
 
 continuing in connection until the disorganiza 
 tion of the institution in 1844. 
 
 During his residence at New Castle, also, Dr. 
 Bird formed one of the most fruitful friendships of 
 his life, giving to his interests still a fresh turn. 
 In the spring of 1842 John Middleton Clayton 
 occupied the old mansion known as the Read 
 House on Water Street, New Castle. Clayton had 
 already begun his career of distinction. He had 
 been a senator at thirty-three, had served a dis 
 tinguished term on the bench, and was already 
 counted one of Delaware s leading statesmen. In 
 politics he was a strong Whig, as the new reforming 
 party was named that came into existence about 
 1837. Through Dr. McClellan, John M. Clayton 
 and Dr. Bird met and formed an intimacy that 
 lasted throughout their lives. Through Clayton, 
 Bird, too, became an active member of the Whig 
 party; its principles of reform he had long stood 
 for, its leaders he now came to know and to admire. 
 Accordingly in the spring of 1842, when a Con 
 gressional vacancy occurred through a declination 
 of a renomination by Mr. Rodney, Dr. Bird was 
 pressed to run. He reluctantly consented and 
 took the stump in his own behalf. In his extant 
 speeches he sets forth two claims for consideration. 
 "I am a FULL BLOODED DELAWAREAN and I can 
 boast . . . that five or six generations of my 
 fathers were born upon and now molder beneath 
 the soil; and then I am a Whig, a very good one." 
 But from the first he was uncertain of his wish to 
 
126 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 enter politics. It was, he declared, like Malvolio s 
 honor " thrust upon him, " and he would go from a 
 sense of duty. The thing perplexes me, you may 
 be sure," he writes June 12, 1842. The state of 
 the medical college was dubious. And yet his wife 
 opposed on all grounds the Congressional nomina 
 tion. It would mean separation from his family; 
 a permanent appointment in Washington might 
 ensue; but "to be among that scandalous set that 
 disgrace the House" was her prime objection. 
 Besides, a new professorship had been heard of in 
 Lexington, Kentucky. The nomination was to be 
 July 5th. As late as June 29th Mr. Rodney s 
 declination was uncertain. Out of deference to his 
 wife s wishes, and cooled by the delay and the 
 uncertainty, Bird withdrew from the running. 
 
 For a brief term he again turned to literature. 
 He revised his four dramas, Pelopidas, The 
 Gladiator, Oralloossa, and The Broker of Bogota. 
 He gathered sources for a history of the annexa 
 tion of Texas and the Mexican War, of which he 
 wrote one chapter, still with his manuscripts. 
 He wrote the portion of a novel entitled The 
 Celebrated Mrs. Munchary, a satire on the new 
 woman of the day. 1 He drew up a plan for the 
 
 1 It is written in a series of letters and can perhaps be best 
 described by Bird s own description of a vignette illustration to 
 accompany it entitled "Young America": "Foreground Street. 
 A man nursing the baby, while his wife knocks down a lady for 
 insulting him ; a horsewoman astraddle, gallanting a gentleman on 
 a side saddle; twogirls fighting, and all the boys screaming for fear. 
 Background. An Open Senate Chamber. Two wenches keeping 
 
MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 127 
 
 organization of the Smithsonian Institute. He 
 further wrote a part of a memoir of John M. Clay 
 ton, and a sketch of the Life of Major Thomas 
 Stockton, which was printed and widely read. In 
 it he cleared Stockton of vicious charges fabricated 
 by political opponents, and greatly aided his elec 
 tion as Governor of Delaware. 
 
 One more service for the Whig cause during 
 Bird s life at New Castle remains unchronicled. 
 This party, it seems, had soon gained an astonish 
 ing strength and influence; about its standards 
 were gathering some of the ablest men in the 
 States. A great Whig Convention was planned to 
 meet at Baltimore to organize and nominate for 
 the coming election. Henry Clay was slated for 
 the Presidency. Among the candidates for the 
 Vice-Presidency was John M. Clayton. In behalf 
 of his friend Dr. Bird once more took the stump. 
 Speech after speech he made to the various Clay 
 clubs in the Hundreds and cities, vigorously assert 
 ing the claims of the Whigs, lauding their leaders, 
 and denouncing the Locofocos. "I believe the 
 man never yet lived," runs one of his speeches, 
 "who had a more noble spirit, a truer love of his 
 country, or a greater capacity to render it great 
 and prosperous than that nature s gentleman . . . 
 whom the American people now mean to make 
 their President, Henry Clay of Kentucky. And 
 if there is anyone else in the land who equals or 
 
 the door, and a female Senate, harangued by a female Demos 
 thenes, who gesticulates at the expense of her petticoat." 
 
128 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 approaches him . . . that is John M. Clayton of 
 Delaware." To the great Whig Convention at 
 Baltimore in May, 1844, he went as Clayton s 
 personal representative and received the states 
 man s friends as they arrived from different quar 
 ters of the Union. This Convention he describes 
 in the following letter to his six -year -old son, 
 writing legibly and naively warning him of the 
 dangers of life in Philadelphia. As it closes Bird s 
 political activities, so it may suitably close this 
 chapter. 
 
 MY DEAR LITTLE SON, 
 
 I arrived from Baltimore in safety, along with 
 my trunk, which I had the good fortune to 
 recover. Everybody who travels should look 
 to his own luggage, and then he will not lose it. 
 
 I had a very agreeable time at Baltimore, 
 seeing and hearing things, which you would 
 have been delighted to see and hear. There 
 were thousands of men walking in a vast pro 
 cession, with beautiful banners and bands of 
 music ; and all persons had splendid badges and 
 medals, such as I have given your dear mother to 
 send up to you. All this was in honor of Henry 
 Clay. But I shall tell you more about it some 
 other time. 
 
 I hope you are well and that you enjoy your 
 self up in Philadelphia. I learn from the news 
 papers that there are wicked men up there, who 
 are fighting and shooting, and killing one 
 another. It is a very bad business; and I desire 
 that you will keep out of their way : for, though 
 I do not apprehend you would shoot anybody, 
 yet somebody might shoot you. 
 
MARRIAGE, FARMING, ETC. 129 
 
 When you are tired of Philadelphia, I shall be 
 rejoiced and so will your dear mother be to 
 have you back again in New Castle. 
 
 I hope your grandpa has got well. Give my 
 love to all your aunts, and believe me 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 ROBERT M. BIRD. 
 FREDERICK MAYER BIRD. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 JOURNALISM 
 
 IN one department of his career Robert Mont 
 gomery Bird was supremely happy; in his home 
 life he was blessed beyond the lot of most men . To 
 that he could always turn and find "peace and 
 trust and affection." His was one of those strong, 
 chivalrous natures capable of inspiring in women 
 a regard that literally amounted to devotion. 
 During his life it was the first concern of Mrs. Bird 
 to make their home a place of inviolate sanctity 
 and peace, and to soothe and cheer a nature that 
 perhaps was ever too sensitive. After his death, 
 not content with leaving a detailed memoir of his 
 life, she diligently gathered and preserved every 
 bit of paper his pen had touched. Furthermore, 
 his was a life of few strifes and many abiding 
 friendships. One misses an essential trait of the 
 man who omits to mention his uncommon power 
 to inspire strong attachments. To this fact the 
 obituaries following his death without exception 
 bore witness. As the list of these intimacies is 
 long, only a few can be given here. They deserve 
 mention because, more than others, they shaped 
 
 130 
 
JOURNALISM 131 
 
 his development. There was Dr. George McClel- 
 lan, the well-known physician, through whom Dr. 
 Bird met Edwin Forrest and who until his death 
 was tireless in Bird s behalf; John Frost, the his 
 torian, ever the best of friends; James Lawson, 
 whose bounty went forth to many a struggling 
 author; W. Gaylord Clark, through whom Bird 
 met Longfellow; Hiram Powers, the sculptor, 
 whom Bird among the first to perceive his gifts 
 started on his career encouraged. Though a friend 
 of his later years only, none stood closer in Dr. 
 Bird s regard than John Middleton Clayton, Dela 
 ware s great statesman, and Secretary of State 
 under Taylor. Their friendship, it seems, was 
 mutual. "I love you," wrote Clayton to Bird, 
 August, 1848, " better than any man on earth 
 except my own children and while my heart shall 
 pulsate that feeling will never abate." At his 
 friend s death, Clayton left, besides a codicil in 
 his will designed to ease the weight of debt on 
 Mrs. Bird, a bequest of five hundred dollars for the 
 erection of a monument to Bird s memory, pro 
 vided he be buried in his native State. 
 
 After the Whig Convention at Baltimore in the 
 spring of 1844 Dr. Bird retired to New Castle 
 where for about two years he again pursued 
 favorite schemes. Chief among these were experi 
 ments in industrial chemistry. He was. perfecting 
 a method, his wife states, for "the manufacture of 
 niter, saltpeter, and magnesia, and his experiments 
 j n the preparation of a superior form of that article 
 
132 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 at a cheap price had resulted in complete success. 
 He was delayed in the establishment of works for 
 this purpose by the difficulty of procuring a suit 
 able lot and buildings." His friends, too, were 
 urgent in his behalf. In April of 1844, John Frost, 
 then a sub-editor of Godey s Magazine, solicited 
 him to become a regular contributor and suggested 
 a series of sketches based on Mexican and Peruvian 
 history. Through the death of Professor Sander 
 son the chair of Classical Literature in the Phila 
 delphia High School was made vacant, and its 
 acceptance Frost was pressing on Bird. Of course, 
 it paid only $1100; but the duties were light; his 
 afternoons would be free to devote to writing; 
 and the book trade was now in full blast. Along 
 with it he might also hold his professorship in 
 Materia Medica. In March of 1846 Clayton urged 
 him to accept a Prothonotaryship ; stating "that 
 it will be offered you." The same month his 
 father-in-law, the Rev. Philip Mayer, writes, Mr. 
 Lea is very desirous you should prepare the long 
 talked of history of America or the United States 
 (I don t know which). Mac[Clellan] added that 
 Lea intimated a disposition to pay Four Thousand 
 Dollars for it in instalments as the work should 
 come out." In April, 1846, Dr. Bird was ap 
 pointed by Governor Maull a director of the 
 Farmer s Bank at New Castle. On December 7, 
 1846, he wrote for The North American an article 
 on the Smithsonian Institute that awakened wide 
 attention. The Board of Regents had just ap- 
 
JOURNALISM 133 
 
 pointed to the Secretaryship Professor Joseph 
 Henry, of the College of New Jersey at Princeton. 
 This appointment Bird warmly commends and 
 takes occasion to outline the uses to which, he 
 thinks, the bequest should be put. It would be 
 unwise, he urged, to found another college ; of these 
 there was already plenty. On the other hand 
 America had no institution like the Royal Society 
 of London or the National Institute of France, with 
 its sole end the promotion of science. To this 
 purpose the Smithsonian bequest with the nation 
 as its guardian might well be put. The subsequent 
 development of the institute on almost exactly the 
 lines Dr. Bird suggested has proved the wisdom of 
 his views. At the time the article drew attention 
 to Bird s fitness for a position in the institution. 
 From a letter of Clayton s, January 22, 1847, it 
 seems Professor Henry wanted him as an associate; 
 that his appointment had been moved; and that 
 Henry was to be "the scientific man" and Bird 
 "the literary man" of the institution. This plan, 
 however, came to naught through Dr. Bird s 
 purchase of a share in The North American (news 
 paper) and his removal to Philadelphia. At the 
 solicitation of John M. Clayton, through whose 
 loan the purchase was made possible, he bought 
 on June 23, 1847, of George R. Graham and 
 Morton McMichael "one third the joint estab 
 lishment of The North American and United States 
 Gazette including all the properties appertaining 
 to the establishment to the amount for one third 
 
134 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 as above stated" for $30,800. Since with this 
 publication he was connected for the rest of his life, 
 and in itself it is a notable journal, a brief review 
 is in place. 
 
 The North American, according to Frederic 
 Hudson, "can claim to be, by purchase, the oldest 
 daily paper, morning and evening, published in the 
 United States." Like many publications of its 
 time it had a very composite development and had 
 absorbed wholly or partly no less than ten periodi 
 cals. z Under the name of The North American it 
 was first issued, March 26, 1839, at No. 63 (now 
 233) Dock Street, Philadelphia. In October, 1845, 
 it was sold to George R. Graham and Alexander 
 Cummings, who engaged Robert T. Conrad, the 
 distinguished jurist, poet, dramatist, and orator, 
 as editor. A difference of political views, how 
 ever, led to a dissolution of the firm, Mr. Graham 
 remaining sole proprietor until January I, 1847, 
 when Morton McMichael became associated with 
 him in the firm of Graham & McMichael. The 
 paper at this time was an eight-column folio, with 
 a head similar to that now used and with the motto 
 "Devoted to Truth." It was published at the 
 northwest corner of Chestnut and Fourth Streets 
 
 1 i st. The Pennsylvania} Packet or the General Advertiser, 
 1771. 2d. The American Daily Advertiser, 1784. 3d. Gazette 
 of the United States, 1789. 4th. Evening Advertiser, 1793. 5th. 
 United States Gazette, 1804. 6th. True American, 1820. 7th. 
 Commercial Chronicle, 1820. 8th. The Union, 1820. 9th. The 
 North American, 1839. loth. Commercial Herald. (Hudson, 
 History of Journalism, p. 183.) 
 
JOURNALISM 135 
 
 until its removal in July, 1848, to No. 132 South 
 Third Street. At the beginning of 1847 The North 
 American and The United States Gazette were 
 separate, though of like aims and standing. Both 
 were of Whig persuasion ; both advocated protec 
 tion; both gave loyal support to city and State 
 interests; and both were highly successful, though 
 naturally competitors. On July I, 1847, when Dr. 
 Bird became associated, the two papers were 
 joined in one of nearly the present size. "It is not 
 often," runs the editorial in that issue, "that such 
 union is effected they believe, indeed, that such 
 union has never before been effected in the United 
 States between two journals in such a completely 
 flourishing condition as The United States Gazette 
 and The North American, the one possessing all the 
 solid and long established business relations which 
 are the fruits of mature age, the other the vigor, 
 and energy, and rich promise that belong to active 
 youth." The announcement of its editorial force 
 includes, Robert T. Conrad, in charge of the poli 
 tical department; James S. Wallace, general 
 associate editor, G. G. Foster, city editor; and 
 Dr. Robert M. Bird "whose high attainments in 
 literature and science are universally known and 
 appreciated, " who was to preside over the mis 
 cellaneous department. The firm, known as 
 Graham & McMichael, was located at No. 66 
 South Third Street, Philadelphia. 1 
 
 1 Among the Bird MSS. I find the following testimonial regard 
 ing The North American from Henry Clay: 
 
I 3 6 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 Removing to Philadelphia Dr. Bird assumed his 
 new duties with ardor. His editorials, written in 
 neat and melodious phrase on a wide range of 
 subject-matter, are not hard to identify and shall 
 be briefly treated in their place. Here we are only 
 concerned with the outer aspects of the under 
 taking. The burdensome tasks that rest on the 
 editing force of a daily newspaper are too well 
 known to need mention. In Bird s case, it seems, 
 they were unusually heavy by reason of an utterly 
 unbusinesslike management with no equal division 
 of labor whatever. Judge Conrad lawyer, drama 
 tist, poet, journalist had so many interests that 
 he was able only occasionally to contribute to the 
 columns. George R. Graham was hardly more 
 helpful on account of his frequent frolics up the 
 river" as Bird put it, and his load of copper specu 
 lations. Morton McMichael was engaged with the 
 business management. In consequence the burden 
 of editing lay upon Dr. Bird. Already in December 
 of 1847 the constant confinement throughout the 
 
 "I have received and attentively perused many months the 
 N. American published in Philadelphia, with which the 
 U. States Gazette is now associated; and I take pleasure in 
 bearing my humble testimony to the consummate ability with 
 which it is generally edited, and to the soundness of the principles 
 which it labors to illustrate and establish. I think it eminently 
 merits public patronage, and especially Whig support. If that 
 great cause should be triumphant, as there is now ground for 
 confident hopes, that paper must be regarded as one of its most 
 fearless champions and enlightened supporters. 
 
 "H. CLAY." 
 
 "Aug. 1847." 
 
JOURNALISM 137 
 
 day and half the night had again brought the 
 warnings of a serious disease. Before the year 
 was up, he was plainly overworked and despon 
 dent. "The experience of a year, " runs a jotting 
 in his hand dated June 19, 1848, "satisfies me that 
 the concern cannot be safe and prosperous as it 
 ought to be without the entire devotion of all the 
 proprietors time and functions to all its interests, 
 and a systematic regulation of functions such as 
 will produce some equitable divisions of labors." 
 Besides, the policy of the paper had at times taken 
 a turn offensive to both Bird and Clayton. It had 
 engaged in ill-advised personal assaults that had 
 stirred violent complaint. In May, 1848, Clayton 
 writes Bird, I have no confidence that it will ever 
 regain the good opinion of the men it has now 
 attacked"; and advises him to end his connection 
 at once and come to the Delaware Farm. Green 
 fields and bullocks are better objects of contem 
 plation." 
 
 The chief source, however, of Bird s uneasiness 
 was the copper speculations of George R. Graham. 
 Graham it seems was in one of those periods of 
 recklessness and dissipation frequently marring a 
 career that might have reached distinction. In 
 1848 he was forced to transfer the magazine that 
 had so long and famously borne his name to 
 Samuel Dewees Patterson, "a series of misfor 
 tunes" to use his own phrase "having bereft me 
 of any proprietory interest in this magazine." 
 He was retained, however, by the new owner as one 
 
138 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 of the editors. Through his plunging, it seems, he 
 was also undermining The North American. In a 
 letter, June 22, 1848, Bird sets forth to him the 
 result of his conduct. "The credit of the firm is 
 impaired, its solvency publicly doubted, its char 
 acter seriously injured, and its influence greatly 
 lessened." He pleads with Graham to relieve 
 himself of his "load of speculation and return to 
 real business." On July 7, 1848, there is a further 
 rebuke for using the name of the firm for private 
 business. "Since July ist, ... I find that you 
 have used the name of the firm as on checks and 
 drafts without consultation of either McM [Mc- 
 Michael] or myself for your own private purposes. " 
 On July 10, 1848: "I discovered today almost by 
 accident that the checks of Graham & McMichael 
 have for some time past been sold to Brokers and 
 that while I have been taught to regard the raising 
 of $1000 as a peculiar privilege, discounts have 
 been obtained on the credit of the firm for $32,000." 
 Little wonder it is that Dr. Bird, with whom honor 
 was instinctive and final, writes, August 23, 1848, 
 to his wife, at that time in New Castle and some 
 what tired of its drab dullness. "I also feel sorry 
 at your giving so bad an account of New Castle, 
 which with all its faults, I prefer to all the Phila- 
 delphias that are, were, or will be, and would be 
 glad to accept in exchange with $1500 a year 
 independent income giving a receipt in full for all 
 claims upon fortune and the pleasures of Phila 
 delphia. I know the vices of the people ; but there 
 
JOURNALISM 139 
 
 is no dream among them of the settled rascalities 
 of a city. 
 
 Elsewhere among Bird s memoranda is the 
 following summary of the situation. 
 
 I . The first year : the circumstances and 
 the result. 
 
 "A. The circumstances. I have devoted my 
 self to the N. A . to the entire exclusion of the 
 private business and personal interests. I have 
 had distinct offers for literary work which I could 
 have performed within the year, employing half 
 my time in it, amounting to $2500; with various 
 contingent offers: so that I might easily have 
 made arrangements for private business requir 
 ing four or five hours a day which would have 
 brought me the interest of the bond a very 
 tempting opportunity. Declined all, however, 
 to give all time to the paper in the hope that 
 this sacrifice would ultimately be compensated 
 by increased character, business, and profits. 
 The circumstances of the last three or four 
 months have been unfavorable to my hopes and 
 to all prospects of increased business, character, 
 and profits ; and as the second year approaches 
 presenting to me a spectacle of doubt and gloom. 
 
 " The question is what inducement have I to 
 continue longer, under my particular circum 
 stances laboring as it seems in vain under a load 
 of difficulty and anxiety, which no efforts or 
 sacrifice of mind, unaided by a common effort 
 and sacrifice of all, can make available? 
 
 "B. The result. The anxieties of the last 
 three months have prevented my keeping the 
 run of accts. I have not had time enough or 
 tranquillity enough scarcely to do my writing. 
 
140 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 If the result be at the end of the first year, to 
 leave me with an increased instead of diminished 
 burden, it is clear that I cannot go on at such 
 a rate. ... I am extremely desirous of know 
 ing the real condition of things, before the year 
 is out that I may do whatever is necessary and 
 practicable under the circumstances before a 
 2nd year begins." 1 
 
 A rearrangement at last was imperative and 
 an indenture dated July, 1848, announces Gra 
 ham s withdrawal from the firm; and another in 
 August, a reorganization under the name of 
 McMichael & Bird. Graham s share was halved 
 and bought by Elijah Van Syckel and Thomas 
 McElrath. The stipulations of the indenture seem 
 expressly designed to prevent another situation 
 like that just concluded, and call for an equal 
 division of labor and books of accounts kept at 
 the place of business wherein "true and perfect 
 entries shall be made of the receipts and expendi 
 tures." 
 
 To summarize Dr. Bird s views on the many 
 questions of the day, as expressed in his editorials, 
 would be both difficult and needless. We find 
 what might be expected of a loyal American of 
 Whig principles and broad literary culture. If 
 any events of the day more than others made him 
 feel sharply and write strongly they were, first of 
 all, our relations with England. Ever since his own 
 
 1 1 have slightly altered the original document, which reads : 
 ... A. The circumstances ... 2. The result. 
 
JOURNALISM 141 
 
 early humiliation at the hands of Bulwer and the 
 English bookmen, his attitude toward England 
 was one of stout independence. He sharply re 
 sented England s condescension towards America 
 as to an upstart nation. Our swift advance in 
 culture as well as in the industrial arts she was 
 forced to admit. Yet she always fell back with 
 galling complacency upon her age as a point of 
 unattainable superiority. Her self-righteousness 
 never ceased to fire him, and yet he questioned her 
 political good faith. How could she chide us as 
 she did for our aggression in Cuba in the face of 
 her own in Asiatic Burmah ? How could she pro 
 pose a Tri-Partite Treaty between France, United 
 States, and herself regarding Cuba when only three 
 years before she had agreed to a similar arrange 
 ment touching Central America and was at that 
 moment violating it ? Again the affairs of Mexico 
 were with Dr. Bird a frequent theme. Then as 
 now Mexico was writhing in the throes of war and 
 insurrection. President Arista had resigned his 
 authority in despair; there was no such thing as 
 patriotism in the country; no aptitude for self- 
 government. Would she- become the prey of 
 England, France or Spain? Toward Mexico Bird s 
 attitude was always sympathetic; he realized her 
 great resources; and pitied her degradation. 
 Again, John M. Clayton and the famous treaty 
 that bore his name were frequent themes. In 
 1851, it is to be recalled, the treaty was invidiously 
 attacked and the whole of Taylor s administration 
 
H2 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 involved. In behalf of Clayton and his treaty, 
 Bird wrote one telling appeal after another, 
 zealously vindicating the wisdom and character 
 of his friend. Finally, running through Bird s 
 editorials is a strong and intelligent advocacy of 
 local affairs, of home trade, of home arts and 
 institutions. Dr. Bird would have subscribed 
 warmly to what has been termed "the higher 
 provincialism." 
 
 The style of these editorials can be best brought 
 to the reader, perhaps, through quotation. The 
 following paragraph is taken from an editorial of 
 January I, 1850, entitled The New Year. Its 
 quaint eloquence, its mellowness, and its tone of 
 sadness possibly a reflection from Bird s own 
 life at the time are characteristic as are also its 
 perfect ease and fluency. 
 
 "At this season the mind naturally reverts 
 to the past and recalls whatever of good or evil 
 has marked the year that is gone. The instinct 
 is a happy one by which we are led to pause, as 
 it were, at certain stages of life s journey, and to 
 look back with a reflective eye to the scenes and 
 incidents encountered on the way. It is custom 
 ary to regard the advent of each year as an 
 occasion for social enjoyment; and accordingly 
 men observe it as a season of festivity. To 
 the young, who are looking forward to what lies 
 before them, and who have little business with 
 memory, it is a pleasant time, and as they enter 
 each year, Hope, like an angel, waits upon the 
 threshhold and promises to lead through a fairy 
 
JOURNALISM 143 
 
 world. They go right willingly and turn no 
 regretful look behind. But to many the hour 
 brings little pleasure save in the reflection of the 
 happiness of others and the recollection of earlier 
 and light hearted years. There is a spirit in the 
 time that takes us gently by the hand and leads 
 us back over the once shining track of our young 
 days, and points to many a hope, and joy, and 
 fair promise that have perished like the blooms 
 of Spring, hopes and joys that we know we shall 
 find no more, upon all the Earth forever. For 
 the seasons may renew "the lilies of the valley, " 
 but they can never bring back to our hearts the 
 blisses and affections of youth. At times like 
 this, we may from the lifeless leaves catch some 
 faint hint of the once surpassing sweetness of 
 the flower, but all that is left us besides, is regret 
 ful retrospection. For many of us, therefore, 
 the hour has something of melancholy. Yet he 
 who in a spirit of self-examination reviews the 
 past may gather from its lessons a wholesome 
 philosophy, which must make him both wiser 
 and happier in the future. Let us all then, 
 today, make up our account with the year that 
 has closed, and so listen to its admonitions that 
 we may turn to our improvement the discipline 
 of experience. In this manner we may extract 
 blessings even from misfortune, and learn how 
 "sweet" indeed "are the uses of adversity." 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 LAST DAYS 
 
 IT seemed inevitable that Dr. Bird s facile 
 powers and a spendthrift willingness to place them 
 at the use of others should sooner or later make him 
 the victim of drudgery. He did tasks with an ease 
 that belied their magnitude and invited further 
 imposition. I do, I may say, " he writes to Clay 
 ton, "all the writing of the paper (the Judge has 
 scarcely furnished three articles in three months) 
 and my whole time from 8 A.M. to i next A.M. 
 every day is laboriously occupied in my duties; 
 and relaxation or pleasure of any kind are things 
 I never know." One wonders why a man who 
 assuredly knew the risks he ran of serious damage 
 to his health should have shown so total a dis 
 regard. Any answer must be of course conjectural, 
 but one reason, it seems, was the financial obliga 
 tions the business had laid upon him. To meet the 
 interest of a loan Clayton had generously made, 
 seemed a point of honor that caused him the 
 deepest anxiety, so -concerned was he lest their 
 friendship should incur a strain. To this obliga 
 tion and the absolute necessity of meeting it he 
 
 144 
 
LAST DAYS 145 
 
 refers again and again in his jottings. And then, 
 of course, Dr. Bird was of the type of man, whose 
 energies grew with the demand upon them. Hard 
 work rather stirred fresh effort than discouraged 
 him. Only the premonitions of a breakdown led 
 him to slacken his pace and take occasional diver 
 sions mostly in the shape of short visits to Buena 
 Vista, Clayton s farm in Delaware. From here he 
 writes to his wife, April, 1852: "It is so agreeable 
 and yet so tiresome to feed the chickens, and look 
 at distant prospects which I can t see without eye 
 glasses or spy glasses." Again in July: "I am the 
 more pleased to see Fred this afternoon as it gives 
 me the opportunity of sending you word that I am 
 doing extremely well and am decidedly improving 
 by the air, exercise and eggs of Buena Vista. Mr. 
 C. is very kind and wishes me to stay all summer." 
 Again in September: "I received, th s afternoon, a 
 letter from Mr. Clayton requesting me in so urgent 
 a manner to go down to see him on some business 
 which he represents as of great importance to him 
 that I do not see how I can well avoid it; and I 
 think it not improbable, therefore, that I shall run 
 down on Saturday to return, I hope, on Monday." 
 From his letters it is clear these visits were fairly 
 frequent. 
 
 Although Dr. Bird s interest in the works of his 
 pen had greatly flagged, he did make occasional 
 efforts to copyright his plays and to revise his 
 novels. In January, 1851, he had consulted Clay 
 ton about the legality of Forrest s possession of his 
 
146 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 dramas. But nothing, it seems, could be done. 
 "It would be a difficult thing," Clayton writes, 
 "to give any correct opinion about the effect of 
 your contract with E. Forrest, because if I under 
 stand you, you have no written contract and your 
 only witness, poor McClellan, is dead. You have 
 suffered him to take copies of your tragedies. 
 What have you in writing, or what evidence have 
 you by letter or otherwise ? If you sold him a right 
 in your plays, what proof have you that it was not 
 an absolute and unlimited right? It appears to 
 me that if you have suffered him to take copies of 
 the plays and act them, you will have a great deal 
 of trouble to get anything out of him, no matter 
 what he does with them, unless you can prove that 
 the right sold to him was a mere right in him to act 
 them, and not transferable to others. The length 
 of time he has had them tends to strengthen his 
 claim. The copyright ought to be secured to 
 yourself." 1 He was also planning anew edition 
 
 1 Forrest s views in the matter may be gathered from the 
 following letter written years later to Dr. Bird s son, who was 
 planning to publish the plays. 
 
 "PHILADELPHIA, October i, 1869. 
 " Mr. FREDERIC M. BIRD, 
 "DEAR SIR, 
 
 " The heirs of the late Dr. R. M. Bird have neither 
 right, title, nor any legal interest whatever in the plays written 
 by him for me, viz. : The Gladiator, The Broker of Bogota, and 
 the play of Oralloossa. 
 
 " These plays are my exclusive property by the right of pur 
 chase, and for many years by the law of copyright. 
 
 " Yours respectfully, 
 
 "EDWIN FORREST." 
 
LAST DAYS 147 
 
 of his romances and in the spring was at work on 
 Nick oj the Woods. Pressure of business, however, 
 prevented its completion, and in November, 1852, 
 he was still negotiating with Mr. Redfield, when 
 "ill health and the peremptory commands of my 
 medical friends " forced him to go West. * 
 
 In January, 1853, George H. Boker consulted 
 Dr. Bird regarding a Dramatic Authors Bill, 
 which he was endeavoring to have Congress pass. 
 As the subject is of interest in itself, and the letter 
 is Bird s last recorded utterance regarding the 
 dramatist s profession, summarizing his own early 
 experience, it is given in full. The last paragraph 
 is of especial autobiographical interest. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, Jan. 31, 1853. 
 
 MY DEAR MR. BOKER: 
 
 If I might advise you as to a Dramatic 
 Authors Bill, I should say by all means go to 
 Washington, and endeavor to enlist the feelings 
 of a few leading members of the House in its 
 favor. The weakness of the bill or of the 
 Cause it represents (which is also or ought to be, 
 its strength) is that nobody cares anything 
 about it one way or the other, except yourself, 
 the four or five dramatic writers who, like you, 
 have courage still to labor in a service surrounded 
 by so many discouragements, and myself, who 
 
 1 Referring to his business worries at this time, Dr. Bird says: 
 " I should not let these things trouble me so much, if they did not 
 interfere with my writing; to do which one ought to have a 
 composed and quiet mind. The brain-machine is as delicate as a 
 chronometer; it takes but a little shake to put it out of order." 
 
148 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 have reason to remember, from the experience 
 of former years, the injurious workings of the ex 
 isting system. The dramatic interest is and as 
 long as the acting right in a play is not recognized 
 by law will remain so utterly insignificant that 
 members of Congress cannot be expected to 
 trouble themselves, or even think about the bill, 
 to ask what it means and what object it is to 
 subserve unless some one like yourself, who 
 might claim the kindly personal consideration 
 due to the gentleman and literary man should 
 devote a few days to the duty of explanation and 
 advocacy. Nobody knows or cares anything 
 about the measure; but on the other hand, no 
 body that I know of makes any objection to 
 it. There is absolutely no opposing interest. 
 Neither managers nor actors have any interest 
 against it; nor have publishers or readers. To 
 every person except the dramatic writer alone, 
 it makes no difference whether the law passes 
 or fails. Some advantage would result from it 
 to all. The theaters would have more new plays 
 to produce the publishers more copy to print 
 the public more books to read. The imme 
 diate advantage to writers would be not unim 
 portant to them pecuniarily though no one 
 would be taxed in consequence; while the great 
 benefit would result in the power the author 
 would have of publication without thereby 
 divesting himself of his property the only 
 property of any real value in a play, as you so 
 well know, lying in the right of representation. 
 The want of recognition in the copyright act of 
 the right of representation compels authors to 
 keep their plays in manuscript, and confine 
 their use to a single act or manager. The market 
 is shut up , the field of literary adventure is 
 
LAST DAYS 149 
 
 barred; the writer s only means of communica 
 tion with the world is through the rantings and 
 blunderirigs of illiterate companies. No wonder 
 so few American poets are willing to try their 
 fortune on the stage where the risk is great and 
 the condition of Success is the surrender of 
 every aspiration for literary fame. Had there 
 been a Dramatic Authors Law in Shakespeare s 
 day, we should have had his plays revised and 
 corrected by himself and published during his 
 life. He made his money by acting them, and 
 could not afford, by publication, to surrender 
 the privilege to rival theaters. 
 
 When it is remembered that all the European 
 governments have by law recognized the authors 
 right of representation in compositions designed 
 for representation; that the bill now before the 
 House is adverse to no interest and is opposed 
 by no person, out of the House that it cannot 
 possibly do any harm or wrong to any human 
 being that it may have as it is likely to have, a 
 good effect in stimulating the efforts of men of 
 genius in the United States in the drama, a 
 branch of literature more neglected among us 
 than any other, and that those members who 
 may take a leading part in procuring its passage 
 are very likely to be remembered with gratitude 
 by those whose gratitude is sometimes immor 
 tality it is hardly to be supposed at least I 
 cannot suppose the bill will meet any opposi 
 tion, should the Committee being in charge 
 report favorably, and one or two members say 
 a good word in its behalf. If it goes to the 
 Senate, I feel satisfied it will not meet with any 
 difficulty there. 
 
 I have not thought it necessary in writing you 
 this note to say anything about my personal 
 
ISO LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 experience now almost an old world recollec 
 tion of matters bearing on the question you 
 have at heart. I do not think, however, that 
 my experience would be found to differ from 
 yours. I do not know that this bill if it became 
 a law would ever be of any benefit to me; but I 
 am very sure, if there had been such a law in 
 existence twenty years ago, I should not have 
 abandoned dramatic writing, as I did, in what 
 was the moment of Success and the period of 
 youthful vigor and enthusiasm. I have enough 
 of the old leaven to feel a sympathy in the cause 
 (eleven or twelve years ago as I once men 
 tioned to you I endeavored having an attack of 
 the old ardor Scribendi) to get such a bill in 
 troduced into Congress, but, it being near the 
 close of the session, I laid it over for next year, 
 by which time, my attention was absorbed by 
 other matters; and, while doubting whether I 
 shall ever again feel any ambition to delight the 
 groundlings, I am desirous that you and others 
 who will rise around you may escape the evils 
 of the discouraging system under which I 
 suffered 
 
 GEORGE H. BOKER. ROBT. BIRD. 
 
 The spring and summer of 1853 again brought 
 their return of ill health. In March, in July, in 
 October, and November, Dr. Bird was at the point 
 of a breakdown to avert which he went West, 
 then to Cape May, and finally to the Delaware 
 Water Gap for a month in the late summer and 
 early fall. From the Kittatinny House he sent 
 four editorials, describing the Gap and its environs, 
 
LAST DAYS 151 
 
 that appeared in The North American, August loth, 
 August 25th, September 2d, and September 8th. 
 With the approach of the year 1854, certain 
 changes in the conduct of the paper were suggested ; 
 among others, the paper was to be enlarged; a 
 one-sixth share in the business was for sale and to 
 exchange hands. To the first of these changes Dr. 
 Bird was strongly and unreservedly opposed. It 
 entailed added labor and expense, would probably 
 impair the quality of the paper, and would cer 
 tainly reduce the profits. Regarding the second, 
 he objected to any exchange which had in it an 
 element of dishonesty and should lay the firm 
 open to the charge of double dealing. He himself 
 had refused to purchase the share at a cut figure 
 believing it dishonest to buy it. Upon a chance 
 examination of the firm s accounts he found a 
 state of affairs that must be regarded as a directly 
 contributing cause of his death. The share in 
 question had been secretly disposed of; fake entries 
 of expenditures and receipts had been made to his 
 disadvantage; and the paper against his wish and 
 without his knowledge was being enlarged. The 
 pain of misplaced friendship in conjunction with 
 prolonged overwork brought on in January, 1854, 
 the fatal attack of effusion on the brain. " 
 
 1 " (Dr. Bird) wore himself out in the service of The North 
 American. Its labors and more especially its troubles killed him. 
 Of this I am as firmly convinced as that I survive him, and that 
 he was cut off just as he was beginning to reap the reward of his 
 toil." Mrs. Bird to Dr. E. R. Mayer, July 5, 1854. 
 
152 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 The death of Dr. Bird is thus described by Dr. 
 Edward R. Mayer, his brother-in-law, in a letter 
 to the Hon. John M. Clayton, January 24, 1854, 
 the day after : 
 
 "You know that Dr. Bird had suffered re 
 peatedly in the last two years from attacks of 
 illness of a kind calculated to depress his mind 
 and lessen the activity of all his vital powers. 
 These were the occasion of much distress and 
 anxiety to him not from any unworthy fear of 
 pain, sickness, or death, but from his tender 
 solicitude for the welfare of those who would be 
 left behind him. These fears and a life of occu 
 pation of a sedentary kind brought about the 
 result, which they made him apprehend and 
 guard against. Since the first days of the present 
 year, he had been confined to his home by a 
 slight illness which did not attract much atten 
 tion or prevent him from writing a daily editor 
 ial until Saturday the I4th instant, when he 
 became more seriously ill. It was then dis 
 covered that he had been through his illness 
 morbidly anxious and concerned about business 
 matters, and that intense mental excitement 
 acting upon a brain already weakened by de 
 pressing causes had developed dangerous dis 
 ease. During the early part of last week he 
 became more enfeebled in body and mind, and 
 his thoughts began to wander. 
 
 "Perfectly passive and gentle, still conscious 
 of his condition and with the presentiment that 
 death was upon him, all the affections of his 
 fervent, loving nature gushed out in words of 
 endearment to his wife and child. Even his 
 moments of delirium showed his ever present 
 
LAST DAYS 153 
 
 dread of the future that awaited those so near 
 and dear to him, while not a word indicated a 
 feeling of fear for himself or a thought incom 
 patible with his unselfish and generous nature. 
 
 "On Wednesday he became much worse and 
 I secured for him the valuable counsel of Pro 
 fessor Wood, who continued to visit him with 
 me to the last. Notwithstanding active and 
 appropriate treatment, he became daily worse 
 and after sinking rapidly through the night of 
 Sunday, he died yesterday morning at 9.00 of 
 effusion on the brain." 
 
 Dr. Bird died, then, Monday, January 23, 1854, 
 at his home No. 60 Filbert Street, Philadelphia.^ 
 His malady was the same as that which carried 
 Thackeray to his grave. He was buried Thursday, 
 January 26th, in Laurel Hill Cemetery, Philadel 
 phia. He died, according to Dr. Mayer, intestate, 
 leaving an estate which consisted "of a small lot 
 of ground in New Castle yielding no revenue, and 
 of personal property which includes one third 
 share of The North American and Gazette and the 
 right to a very small income from such of the works 
 of the deceased as may be published or republished 
 hereafter. This estate is burdened with a debt of 
 more than $20,000 to yourself (Clayton) and of 
 $2000 to a brother of Dr. Bird s." 1 
 
 Robert Montgomery Bird has been dead sixty- 
 four years. That would not be a long time for one 
 whose name is to live on the lips of men ; it is amply 
 
 1 Dr. E. R. Mayer to John M. Clayton. 
 
154 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 long to make possible a just assessment of the man 
 and his works. The rights of personal acquain 
 tanceship and affection have long since been 
 honored. We are in a position to appraise the man 
 apart as well as in relation to his time. 
 
 It cannot be said today that the name of Dr. 
 Bird has become either widely or generally known ; 
 it can be said confidently that he is far from en 
 tirely forgotten. To the student of our native 
 literature he holds a place of acknowledged im 
 portance. Biographical dictionaries and histories 
 of American literature with any aim at complete 
 ness can ill afford to omit an account of his life. 
 Any selection of representative plays or novels 
 would do well to include work from his pen. In 
 many libraries and literary clubs of the city of his 
 adoption, his portrait, a noble face, handsome 
 though resembling in general feature that of 
 Thackeray, is not infrequently seen. But the 
 name of Robert Montgomery Bird today is com 
 paratively seldom heard. And yet, the writer 
 strongly feels this partial disesteem is the more 
 undeserved because the works of Bird are with 
 many still living a vivid recollection. It is sur 
 prising how many of the generation that is passing 
 well recall the glory of Spartacus in the hands of 
 Edwin Forrest, John McCullough, and Robert 
 Downing; or whose imaginations still kindle at 
 the thought of the Jibbenainosay in Nick of the 
 Woods. The writer was time and again struck 
 with the number of older men, kind enough to 
 
LAST DAYS 155 
 
 answer his inquiries, who read these romances of 
 Bird "many golden years ago" and still retain a 
 sharp impression of the characters and their 
 plights. J These they well remembered ; the name 
 of the author they frequently forgot. This fact, 
 a divorce of the man from his works, marked the 
 whole career of Dr. Bird. In Europe he naturally 
 fared no better. In England each of his romances, 
 as we have seen, was given at least one edition. 
 Some of them with altered titles sold through 
 successive editions. They may possibly have 
 extended his reputation, but they brought him no 
 substantial return. The only acknowledgment 
 of his claim as author that he received from Eng 
 lish bookmen was "four handsomely printed 
 volumes (of Calavar) under the title of Abdalla, 
 the Moor." 2 Nick of the Woods in its German 
 version had, according to Mrs. Bird, a sale of over 
 ten thousand copies. This romance still occasion 
 ally issues from the American and English press 
 in popular form. So it can be said also that if the 
 demand for Dr. Bird s works has dwindled, it has 
 not entirely ceased. It remains briefly to conclude 
 regarding the place of Robert Montgomery Bird 
 among American men of letters. 
 
 In more ways than one Dr. Bird is to be regarded 
 as a pioneer. He was a professional writer in 
 
 1 The late Hon. Samuel W. Penny-packer, ex-governor of 
 Pennsylvania, is reported to have made the statement that "as 
 a boy he sat up all night over Bird s Nick of the Woods" 
 
 2 Notes of Mrs. Bird. 
 
156 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 America before writing was a well-established 
 profession. True, a long list of men had preceded 
 him, who wrote and wrote well, but with few 
 exceptions they were theologians, teachers, diplo 
 mats, or journalists, who employed the pen, to 
 use an old figure, as a staff to walk with rather 
 than a prop. Bird like Brockden Brown, and not 
 much later than he, deliberately abandoned a 
 profession to adopt literature as a career. In this 
 sense, too, Bird was a pioneer playwright, the most 
 considerable of that group called forth by the 
 munificence of Edwin Forrest to lay what he hoped 
 might prove the groundwork of a dramatic litera 
 ture in America. He wrote the greatest number 
 of Forrest s prize plays, and his work among his 
 competitors has the strongest claims to perman 
 ence. Furthermore, he set about the work with an 
 originality all his own. To be sure, he kept before 
 him Elizabethan models of construction; but his 
 central aim in The Gladiator was to fashion a part 
 which should fit and display the individuality of 
 the first American tragedian of his day. The per 
 fection of that fit is amply attested by Forrest s 
 lifelong success with the play. In Oralloossa and 
 The Broker of Bogota as well as in Calavar and 
 The Infidel, he still showed pioneer tendencies in 
 pushing forth for his material, into regions and 
 periods of history hitherto untouched in fiction. 
 
 But what of Bird s accomplishment, judged if 
 one may use the phrase, by the national standard 
 of achievement? To apply the absolute and to 
 
LAST DAYS 157 
 
 compare him with the greatest that have said and 
 sung is needlessly to belittle him. The final 
 appraisement of course must rest on the plays 
 and romances. His verse, abundant and facile 
 though it is, has little claim to serious considera 
 tion ; it was written hastily, largely for the fun of 
 the thing, and unwillingly owned by Dr. Bird 
 himself. His contributions to the magazines were 
 fragmentary and occasional; his editorials and 
 medical writings belong elsewhere. It is by his 
 plays and novels that we must remember him if 
 remembered he is to be. Of his plays, then, judged 
 by the level of American achievement in drama, 
 four deserve preservation, Pelopidas, The Gladia 
 tor, Oralloossa, and The Broker of Bogota. Of these 
 the second and the fourth have permanently 
 enriched our dramatic literature: The Gladiator, 
 because of its superb representation of physical 
 realism, its expert portrayal of elemental man, its 
 effective adaptation to a great actor of a certain 
 type, and because of one scene that all but reaches 
 a height of first power judged by what standard we 
 will ; The Broker oj Bogota, for its efficient construc 
 tion, its general acting qualities, and for the part of 
 Baptist a Febro, a character of remarkable veracity 
 and scope, hale, courteous, plain, outspoken, 
 strong, yet weak through years and overpowering 
 affection. It is to be recalled, too, that these two 
 plays proved their dramatic worth on many stages 
 in America and England as well. The part played 
 by The Gladiator in the fame and fortune of Edwin 
 
158 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 Forrest we have seen. It was the play in which 
 John McCullough first appeared as an established 
 star, and by a coincidence the last he ever acted. x 
 The prose romances of Dr. Bird, too, represent a 
 solid achievement. They belong, it is true, to a 
 category which precludes them from the rank of 
 those great novels that bring to their readers a 
 world message. Like many of Scott and Cooper 
 they are essentially boys books. A fresh illumina 
 tion of the meaning of life is not their aim. And 
 yet they have just claims to virtues that should 
 once and for all discourage invidious comparisons, 
 as have been made, between them and the dime- 
 novel." Like those of his two great forerunners 
 and no less than theirs, the novels of Dr. Bird 
 represent conscientious workmanship. This work 
 manship in the case of his Mexican romances was 
 carried to such a point of accuracy as to win com 
 mendation from expert historians of the period. 
 "Dr. Bird in his picturesque romance of Calavar, " 
 saysPrescott in his Conquest of Mexico, "has studied 
 with great care the costume, manners, and military 
 uses of the natives. He has done for them what 
 Cooper has done for the wild tribes of the North, 
 touched their rude features with the bright color 
 ing of a poetic fancy. He has been equally for 
 tunate in his delineation of the picturesque scenery 
 of the land." 2 Again the novels of Dr. Bird with- 
 
 1 For an account of McCullough as Spartacus see Winter, The 
 Wallet of Time, vol. i., pp. 271-273. He first played the part in 
 New York, May 4, 1874. * Vol. ii., p. 336, footnote. 
 
LAST DAYS 159 
 
 out exception of a single chapter are thoroughly 
 wholesome. A perfect purity sweetens every 
 page. His characters have a hardihood and 
 strength that invigorate like those of Scott s. The 
 scenes of his novels are often in mountain passes 
 and malarial swamps; their concern, mainly with 
 the roughest adventure; but his men and women 
 are free from the slightest taint of pruriency. They 
 are often cruel, barbarous, deceptive; they are 
 always robust, elemental, wholesome. And finally 
 there is the tribute of the style of these books, 
 undeniably diffuse and prolix at times, but often 
 neat, fluent, melodious, vividly pictorial and dra 
 matically intense. 
 
 Finally, of Dr. Bird s lovable character as a man, 
 of his extraordinary capacity for friendship, of his 
 idealism, and the princely qualities of his heart, 
 there can be no better statement than that of a 
 contemporary and associate, who at the time of his 
 death thus wrote of Dr. Bird. After mention of his 
 rich endowments he continues: Nor had nature 
 been less munificent in the qualities of his heart 
 which was great with great virtues chivalric in 
 its courage, soft in its gentleness, liberal, loyal, 
 loving. It is a grief to lose, from the scenes of life, 
 such a nature; but it is a triumph that such a 
 nature has lived, and been with and of us, and shall, 
 we trust, be so again." L 
 
 1 The North American and United States Gazette, January 24, 
 1854- 
 
APPENDIX A 
 
 The following is a list of the American and European editions 
 of Bird s romances, in the order of their writing. 
 
 AMERICAN EDITIONS 
 
 Calavar: or, The Knight of the Conquest; a romance of Mexico. 
 Philadelphia, Carey, Lea & Blanchard, 1834. 2 vols. 12. 
 
 [Another Edition.] 1837. 
 
 Calavar; or, The Knight of the Conquest; a romance of Mexico. 
 By R. M. Bird. A new ed. Philadelphia, Lea & Blan 
 chard, 1847. 2 vols. 
 
 Calavar, a Romance of Mexico. New York, J. S. Redfield, 
 1854. 12. 
 
 Calavar, The Knight of the Conquest. 111. W. J. Widdleton, 1 876 . 
 
 12. 
 
 The Infidel; or, The Fall of Mexico. A romance. By the author 
 of Calavar. Philadelphia, Carey, Lea & Blanchard, 1835. 
 2 vols. 12. 
 
 The Hawks of Hawk Hollow. A tradition of Pennsylvania. By 
 the author of Calavar. Philadelphia, Carey, Lea & Blan 
 chard, 1835. 2 vols. 12. 
 
 Sheppard Lee. Written by himself. New York, Harper & 
 Brothers, 1836. 2 vols. 
 
 Nick of the Woods, or, The Jibbenainosay. A tale of Kentucky. 
 By the author of Calavar. Philadelphia, Carey, Lea & 
 Blanchard, 1837. 2 vols. 12. 
 
 Nick of the Woods; or, The Jibbenainosay. A tale of Kentucky. 
 By Robert Montgomery Bird. A new ed., rev. by the 
 author. New York, J. S. Redfield, 1853. 2 pt. 12. 
 
 Nick of the Woods; or, The Jibbenainosay. W. J. Widdleton, 
 
 1876. 12. 
 
 Nick of the Woods. Burrows, 1904. 12. 
 
 Nick of the Woods. A story of the Early Settlers in Kentucky, 
 A. L. Burt, 1905. 12. 
 
 11 161 
 
1 62 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 Peter Pilgrim; or, a rambler s recollections. By the author of 
 Calavar, Nick of the Woods, etc. Philadelphia, 1838. 2 
 vols. 12. 
 
 The Adventures of Robin Day. By the author of Calavar. Phila 
 delphia, Lea & Blanchard, 1839. 2 vols. 12. 
 
 The Adventures of Robin Day. Philadelphia, Lea, 1839. 2 vols. 
 8. 
 
 ENGLISH EDITIONS 
 
 Abdalla the Moor and the Spanish Knight: A romance of Mexico. 
 London, Newman, 1835. 4 vols. 12. [The original title 
 was Calavar.] 
 
 The Infidel; or, The Fall of Mexico, London, 1835. 12. 
 
 Cortes; or, The Fall of Mexico: A romance. Bentley, 1835. 3 
 vols. 12. [The original title was The Infidel.] 
 
 Cortes; or, The Fall of Mexico. London, 1835. 3 vols. 12. 
 [The original title was The Infidel.] 
 
 The Hawks of Hawk Hollow. Bentley, 1837. 3 vols. 12. 
 
 The Hawks of Hawk Hollow. By Dr. Bird. London, Ward & 
 Lock, 1856. 8. 
 
 Nick of the Woods, a story of Kentucky. By the author of 
 Spartacus, etc. Edited by W. H. Ainsworth, London, 1837. 
 3 vols. 8. 
 
 Nick of the Woods. Bentley, 1837. 3 vols. 12. 
 
 Nick of the Woods. London, 1854. l6 - 
 
 Nick of the Woods; or, Adventures of Prairie Life. By Robert M. 
 Bird. London, Ward & Lock, 1856. 
 
 [Another Edition.] 1860. 8. 
 
 [Another Edition.] 1872. 12. 
 
 Nick of the Woods; or, Adventures of Prairie Life. Routledge, 
 1883. 8. 
 
 Nick of the Woods; or, Adventures of Prairie Life. London, Ni 
 cholson. 12. (Contains also Daniel Wise and Ashcourt 
 Roderick.) 
 
 Peter Pilgrim, a Tale. Bentley, 1839. 2 vols. 12. 
 
 GERMAN EDITION 
 
 Die Gefahren der Wildnis. Eine Erzahlung fur die reifere 
 Jugend. Nach dem Englischen [Nick of the Woods] bear- 
 beitet von Franz Hoffmann. Mit Bildern. Stuttgart, 
 1847- 8. 
 
APPENDICES 163 
 
 APPENDIX B 
 
 The following is a complete list, chronologically arranged, of 
 Bird s contributions to magazines: 
 
 Fount of Blandusia. A poem, translation from Horace, in 
 
 Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, October, 1827. 
 Saul s Last Day. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, 
 
 October, 1827. 
 The Dying Bride. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, 
 
 November, 1827. It is signed B., like other of his verse, 
 
 and is probably Dr. Bird s. 
 The Miniature. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, 
 
 November, 1827. 
 The Dead Soldier. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, 
 
 November, 1827. 
 The Death of Meleager. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly 
 
 Magazine, December, 1827. 
 Rest in Thine Isle. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, 
 
 December, 1827. 
 The Ice Island. A tale in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, 
 
 December, 1827. 
 The Spirit of the Reeds. A story in Philadelphia Monthly 
 
 Magazine, January, 1828. 
 Friendship. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, January , 
 
 1828. 
 The Phantom Players. A tale in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine , 
 
 May, 1828. 
 Changing Heart, Away from Me. A poem in Philadelphia 
 
 Monthly Magazine, July, 1828. 
 To Lyce. A poem, translation from Horace, in Philadelphia 
 
 Monthly Magazine, August, 1828. 
 Brunette. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, August, 
 
 1828. 
 Summer. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, August, 
 
 1828. 
 
 The Helots. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, Septem 
 ber, 1828. 
 The Love Sick Minstrel. A poem in Philadelphia Monthly 
 
 Magazine, September, 1828. 
 
1 64 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 She opes her eyes and oh my bosom s swell! A poem in New 
 
 York Mirror, May, 1832. 
 
 Mary. A sonnet in the New York Mirror, May 12, 1832. 
 The Beech Tree. A poem in New York Mirror, March, 1834. 
 The China Tree. A poem in Knickerbocker Magazine, January , 
 
 1835. 
 To Governor M Duffie. A poem in New England Magazine, 
 
 February, 1835. 
 An Evening Ode. A poem in Knickerbocker Magazine, February, 
 
 1835, and also in The Commercial Herald. 
 Ode to the Sycamore. Written for the Buckeyes celebration of 
 
 the 47th anniversary of the Landing at the mouth of the 
 
 Muskingum River, Ohio, April, 1835. 
 
 Community of Copy-Right. An Article in Knickerbocker Maga 
 zine, October, 1835. 
 An Address. A poem in National Gazette, January, 1836. It was 
 
 written for and delivered at the Wood Complimentary 
 
 Benefit. 
 
 Lament. A poem in United States Gazette, April, 1837. 
 The Mammoth Cave of Kentucky. A descriptive article in 
 
 American Monthly Magazine, May and June, 1837. This 
 
 was later incorporated in Peter Pilgrim. 
 A Tale of a Snag. A story in American Monthly Magazine, 
 
 August, 1837. This was later incorporated in Peter Pilgrim. 
 The Extra Lodger. A story in New York Mirror, November 
 
 10, 1838. It had already appeared in Peter Pilgrim. 
 God Bless America. A poem. 
 
 Romance of Cid Ramon. A poem. Printed from Calavar. 
 The Belated Revenge. A story (partly by Frederick Mayer 
 
 Bird) in Lippincott s Magazine, November, 1889. 
 
 APPENDIX C 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PUBLICATIONS 
 
 Valedictory address delivered before the graduates of Pennsyl 
 vania Medical College: session of 1842-43. Philadelphia, 
 Merrihew, 1843. 8. 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 165 
 
 A Belated Revenge. Philadelphia, Lippincott. [This was begun 
 by Dr. Bird under the title of Ipsico Poe, The Long Hunter, 
 and written to Chapter XV., at which point his son took it 
 up and completed it. It was first published as "A Belated 
 Revenge" in Lippincott s Magazine, November, 1889.] 
 
 The Broker of Bogota, a tragedy in five acts. Printed in Quinn, 
 A. H., Ed., Representative American Plays. New York, 1917. 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 
 
 Without pretending to be exhaustive, the following is a list 
 of readily accessible books that should serve as guides to those 
 who desire further to investigate the period covered by Dr. 
 Bird s life. 
 
 ADAMS, W. DAVENPORT. A Dictionary of the Drama. Philadel 
 phia, 1904. 
 
 ALGER, WILLIAM R. Life of Edwin Forrest. 2 volumes. Phila 
 delphia, 1877. 
 
 BARRETT, LAWRENCE. Edwin Forrest. Boston, 1882. 
 
 BEERS, H. A. Nathaniel Parker Willis. Boston, 1885. "Amer 
 ican Men of Letters." 
 
 BROWN, T. A. A History of the New York Stage. From the 
 First Performance in 1732 to 1901. 3 volumes. New 
 York, 1903. 
 
 CAIRNS, W. B. On the Development of American Literature from 
 1815 to 1833. With Especial Reference to Periodicals. 
 Madison, Wisconsin, 1898. 
 
 CLARENCE, REGINALD T. The Stage Cyclopedia. London, 1909. 
 
 COAD, ORAL SUMNER. William Dunlap. Dunlap Society 
 Publications. Series 3, volume 2. 
 
 CONRAD, HENRY CLAY. History of the State of Delaware. 3 
 volumes. Wilmington, Delaware, 1908. 
 
 DUNLAP, WILLIAM. History of American Theatre. New York, 
 1832. 2 volumes. London, 1833. 
 
 DURANG, CHARLES. The Philadelphia Stage. From the year 
 1749 to the year 1855. Partly compiled from the papers 
 of his father, the late John Durang; with notes by the editors 
 
166 LIFE OF ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD 
 
 (of the Philadelphia Sunday Dispatch). Published serially 
 
 in the Philadelphia Dispatch as follows: First Series, 1749- 
 
 1821, beginning in the issue of May 7, 1854; Second Series, 
 
 1822-1830, beginning June 29, 1856; Third Series, 1830- 
 
 1855, beginning July 8, 1860. 
 GRISWOLD, R. G. Prose Writers of America. Philadelphia, 
 
 1847. 
 IRELAND, J. N. Records of the New York Stage, from 1750 to 
 
 1860. 2 volumes, New York, 1866-67. 
 LOUNSBURY, THOMAS R. James Fenimore Cooper. Boston, 
 
 1883. "American Men of Letters." 
 McCuLLOUGH, BRUCE WELKER. The Life and Writings of 
 
 Richard Penn Smith. With a Reprint of His Play, The 
 
 Deformed, 1833. A Pennsylvania Thesis, 1917. 
 MOSES, M. J. The American Dramatist. Boston, 1911. 
 MOSES, MONTROSE J. Famous Actor Families in America. New 
 
 York, 1906. 
 MURDOCH, JAMES E. The Stage, or Recollections of Actors and 
 
 Acting from an Experience of Fifty Years. Philadelphia, 
 
 1880. 
 OBERHOLTZER, ELLIS PAXSON. Philadelphia; a History of the 
 
 City and Its People, a Record of 225 Years. Philadelphia, 
 1911. 
 
 Literary History of Philadelphia. Philadelphia, 1906. 
 QUINN, ARTHUR H. "The Early Drama, 1756-1860," in The 
 
 Cambridge History of American Literature, volume i., p. 215. 
 
 Representative American Plays. New York, 1917. 
 
 REES, JAMES. The Dramatic Authors of America. Philadelphia, 
 1845. 
 
 The Life of Edwin Forrest. Philadelphia, n. d. [1874]. 
 
 SARTAIN, JOHN. Reminiscences of a Very Old Man. New York, 
 1900. 
 
 SEILHAMER, G. O. History of the American Theater. 3 volumes, 
 Philadelphia, 1888-91. 
 
 SMYTH, A. H. The Philadelphia Magazines and Their Contribu 
 tors, 1741-1850. Philadelphia, 1892. 
 
 TRENT, WILLIAM P. William Gilmore Simms. Boston, 1892, 
 "American Men of Letters." 
 
 TUCKERMAN. Life of John Pendleton Kennedy. New York, 
 1917. 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 167 
 
 TYSON, J. R. Sketch of the Wistar Party of Philadelphia. Phila 
 delphia, 1898. 
 WALLACK, LESTER. Memories of Fifty Years Ago. New York, 
 
 1889. 
 WEMYSS, F. C. Theatrical Biography of Eminent Actors and 
 
 Authors. New York [185-]. 
 Twenty-six Years of Life of an Actor Manager. 2 volumes. 
 
 New York, 1847. 
 Chronology of the American Stage from 1752-1852. New 
 
 York, n. d. [1852]. 
 WINTER, WILLIAM. The Wallet of Time, Containing Personal, 
 
 Biographical and Critical Reminiscences of the American 
 
 Theater. 2 volumes. New York, 1913. 
 Other Days; Being Chronicles and Memories of the Stage . 
 
 New York, 1908. 
 Wood s Diary. A Manuscript Diary or Daily Account Book of 
 
 W. B. Wood, in 9 volumes, extending from 1810 to 1835. 
 
 (In Library of the University of Pennsylvania.) 
 WOOD, W. B. Personal Recollections of the Stage . . . During a 
 
 Period of Forty Years. Philadelphia, 1835. 
 WOODBERRY, GEORGE E. Edgar Allan Poe. Boston, 1885. 
 
 "American Men of Letters." 
 
PART II 
 DRAMATIC WORKS 
 
 169 
 
PELOPIDAS 
 
 The texts of the following plays are in each case 
 based on manuscript copies in the collection of 
 Bird papers recently presented to the Library of 
 the University of Pennsylvania by the grandson 
 of the author, Mr. Robert Montgomery Bird, of 
 Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. 
 
 The present text of Pelopidas is that of the best 
 and fullest autograph copy in the Bird collection. 
 There are two other complete autograph manu 
 scripts of the play. Pelopidas was finished in the 
 fall of 1830. Although it was accepted by Edwin 
 Forrest as a prize-play, it was never produced on 
 the stage. 
 
 171 
 
PELOPIDAS 
 
 OR 
 
 THE FALL OF THE POLEMARCHS 
 
 A TRAGEDY 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS 
 
 1830-1840 
 
PELOPIDAS 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED 
 
 LEONTIDAS, a Theban, ) 
 
 A^TJTAC \ ( The Polemarchs, or Tyrants, 
 
 -riK^rllAo. Jo / 
 
 PHILIP, \ S P artans > j of Thebes. 
 
 PHILIDAS, //^> Secretary. 
 
 MELON, nephew of Philidas. 
 
 HIPPOCLUS, father of Pelopidas. 
 
 CHARON, a Theban, friend to Pelopidas. 
 
 PELOPIDAS, j 
 
 DAMOCLIDES, > Theban Patriots. 
 
 LAON, and others. ) 
 
 HYLAS, a boy, son of Pelopidas. 
 
 LYCOPHRON, son of Charon. 
 
 SIBYLLA, wife of Pelopidas. 
 
 Guests, Soldiers, Musicians, Dancers, Slaves, &c. 
 
 SCENE At first, Athens: afterwards, Thebes in 
 Bceotia. 
 
 J74 
 
PELOPIDAS 
 ACT I 
 
 SCENE I. Athens. The Acropolis. (Enter LAON, 
 DAMOCLIDES, and other Theban Exiles.) 
 
 LAON 
 
 No hope for Thebes ? Still trampled by her tyrants ! 
 
 And Athens hath no arm of help for her 
 
 That help d herself from bonds, no sword to strike 
 
 The enemy that, of late, her own towns master d, 
 
 And ground her sons in slavery, hated Sparta ! 
 
 This is the virtue, then, of Athens; where, 
 
 Scarce lodged and countenanced, scarce guarded from 
 
 The assassin knives with which our foes pursue us, 
 
 We drag out painfully a life of exile, 
 
 Martyrs of freedom. No, there is no hope, 
 
 While Athens still denies us. 
 
 DAM. 
 
 There is hope, 
 
 Long as Pelopidas is with us ! Yield 
 All to despair, while still I see his eye 
 Set upon yonder mountains, which enclose 
 Our fallen city, and in that eye the look 
 Of a true Greek and Theban, I will hope, 
 Though against hope. Believe me, he will yet 
 Move the Athenians. 
 
 i75 
 
176 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 LAON 
 
 By Minerva, no! 
 
 Witness the anger of her Senators, 
 When her brave youth, leaping at our first call, 
 Offer d their friendly swords to strike for Thebes; 
 What said the Senators? Athens is at peace, 
 And Sparta her ally. 
 
 DAM. 
 
 This was, good Laon, 
 Their public voice; and policy required it. 
 They give Pelopidas better hope in private. 
 
 LAON 
 
 How much of hope ? A promise to permit 
 Their youth the fiery band that burn to join us 
 To march to Thebes when we have conquer d it ! 
 This is but mockery: Give us Thebes, and what 
 Care we for help from Athens ? 
 
 DAM. 
 
 I would, i faith, 
 
 They were less politic. But set thine eye 
 Upon Pelopidas: hope flies not him: 
 There s something stirs within him ; some brave vision 
 Is opening on his mind, some glorious thought 
 That speaks of Thebes and freedom. Yestermorn 
 He was as sad as thou, and on this rock 
 Sat weeping for his country; it was when 
 He heard of Philidas, his old friend s defection, 
 (That traitor whom the Polemarchs reward 
 For his apostacy with the highest office 
 Near to their persons :) but at night I found him 
 
PELOPIDAS 177 
 
 Transform d in look and spirit, no more an exile 
 
 Pining with sorrow, but a Theban chief, 
 
 With flashing eye, and warrior tread, and look 
 
 Of angry joy; e en just the man I saw him 
 
 On his first field, the gory Mantinea, 
 
 Hewing his path through ranks of death, and winning 
 
 That fame which makes him, though the youngest 
 
 here, 
 
 First of all Thebans. Be sure, that change denotes us 
 Something of good. Athens, perhaps, relents, 
 And grants us succour. 
 
 LA ON 
 
 Would it were so But lo ! 
 Where is that fire you boasted? See, how dark 
 And wild his aspect ! 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Dark and wild, I grant you, 
 
 But yet not mournful ! 
 
 (Enter PELOPIDAS.) 
 
 DAM. 
 
 What, Pelopidas! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Damoclides ! 
 
 Are all here Thebans? 
 
 DAM. 
 All. 
 
 12 
 
178 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Ay! Laon, Theopompus, 
 
 Chlidon true Thebans all ! I would not have 
 A stranger hear us, there are spies about us. 
 News, friends! What, are ye ready? Grind your 
 
 swords, 
 
 Buckle your armour, mount your steeds: the time 
 Has come for action. Which of you will ride 
 With me to Thebes? 
 
 DAM. 
 
 I! 
 
 ALL 
 I! 
 
 DAM. 
 
 But, pray you, speak. 
 Hath Athens granted forces? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Not a man ; 
 
 Save on her hard original conditions. 
 We for ourselves must toil. Think not of Athens 
 The gods are with us. 
 
 LAON 
 
 With the gods to aid us 
 And a battalion of Athenians 
 Thebes were our own. But with the gods alone, 
 And our poor selves, four hundred naked exiles, 
 What can we make against a garrison d city, 
 Where even our friends are turn d against us ? 
 
PELOPIDAS 179 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 What! 
 Thou think st of Philidas? I, too, thought him 
 
 traitor, 
 
 Bought to the service of the Polemarchs; 
 And this unnerved me. By the gods! tis better 
 To find the man we have call d friend, and known 
 A noble one, stoop down to baseness. But Philidas 
 Was never a traitor ! Hark ! I wept my friend, 
 Thus turn d a villain; when this letter reach d me, 
 By his own true hand written, Philidas 
 Is yet the friend of Thebes. 
 
 Without a pledge. 
 
 LA ON 
 
 Believe him not, 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 He gives it, in a caution 
 
 Worth twenty oaths of zeal : Beware, he writes, 
 Of Iphias, the Athenian. 
 
 LAON 
 
 What! the pontiff, 
 Who, ever, seems our truest friend? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 A false one ! 
 Through him our subtlest plans have reach d the 
 
 tyrants, 
 
 Through him their daggers strike us: Oh, believe me, 
 What Philidas writes of him I have proved true. 
 
i8o DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 But, we ve no time for words. A second missive 
 Reach d me, to-day, by a true messenger, 
 Who bears, already, an answer back to Thebes. 
 Hark, in a word ; this Philidas, who, by craft, 
 Works in our purpose, (and, for that end, has wound 
 Into the tyrants favours,) has entrapp d them 
 Into our hands: They feast with him to-night: 
 We must feast with them ! 
 
 LAON 
 We! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 All is prepared, 
 
 The messenger sent back; and we, at midnight, 
 Enter the city: at the Delian Gate, 
 A friend receives us. 
 
 LAON 
 
 This is hasty! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Laon, 
 
 He that strikes tyrants must arm with thunderbolts ! 
 There is no time for counsel. He that loves Thebes 
 Better than life, let him ride forth with me 
 To slay her despots. Twelve of us alone 
 Enter the city, (we must begone at once :) 
 The rest, set out at nightfall, and take post 
 Upon the Hill of Fortune; whence, that instant 
 The Polemarchs have fallen, we summon them 
 To storm the citadel. 
 
PELOPIDAS 181 
 
 DAM. 
 
 I, for one, love Thebes 
 Better than life Have at the Polemarchs! 
 
 THE REST 
 
 And I and I and I ! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Why there spoke men ! 
 
 True sons of Thebes and freedom! Thou, Laon, 
 With the four hundred follow. 
 
 LAON 
 
 By Jove, not I ! 
 
 The thing is hasty, as I said ; but I 
 Yield the bright place of fame to none. Forgive me; 
 I ll have the first blow at the knaves! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Brave heart, 
 
 I knew thou wouldst not fail me ! Be it so. 
 Haste to your steeds : let no one know, in Athens, 
 That you have left it: steal, one by one, away, 
 And meet upon the road a league from Athens. 
 Thence, all assembled, we set out together 
 To do a deed of virtue, that shall keep, 
 Throughout all time, our memories green and glorious ! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE II. Thebes. A room in the house of 
 PHILIDAS. A storm of wind heard without. (Enter 
 PHILIDAS and CHARON.) 
 
182 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Said ye, to-night! 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Ay, noble friend, to-night : 
 To-night the princely masters of Boeotia 
 Feast with their honoured slave. Do not the fates 
 Smile on us, Charon? Ay! these crafty fools, 
 That play so deeply on my gratitude, 
 Calling me Secretary and their friend, 
 Come blindly to the toils. They feast with me! 
 Is t not enough? The exiles are at hand, 
 Pelopidas their head Tis but a blow; 
 And revelry and bondage end to together! 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Yet we have no advices. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Have we not ! 
 
 What, when the gods reveal their favour to us! 
 The exiles come You cannot think that Heaven 
 Vouchsafes us these brave presages for laughter ? 
 A multitude ay, the whole city saw it ; 
 Three ravens croaking o er the citadel, 
 And filling all the air with their harsh clamour : 
 Did not the rabble call them Polemarchs? 
 And when the eagle pounced upon, and tore them, 
 The veriest varlets cried, Pelopidas! 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Would he were come, and come the great avenger 
 Of his oppressed and outraged countrymen : 
 There s no Boeotian but will follow him. 
 
PELOPIDAS 183 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 He will ! And, in reliance on his wisdom, 
 I have sent him word of this our festival. 
 Already, on the road, my nephew Melon 
 Lies waiting him, to bring him to the city. 
 
 (Enter MELON.) 
 What ! you have brought them ! 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Have you found them? 
 
 MEL. 
 
 No: 
 
 I found an open and a desolate road, 
 A gate unguarded ; a brave opportunity ! 
 A thousand men might pass it unmolested. 
 The river thunders o er his rocky bed; 
 Old CEolus, with his gusty myrmidons, 
 Howls uproar through the air ; and all the stars 
 Shroud them in dismal sleety clouds. A rare 
 Fine night for mischief ! but the makers come not ! 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Hark to the knave. For mischief ! He looks on 
 A deed which, at the least, slays many men, 
 And may slay thousands, as a mischief -making ! 
 
 MEL. 
 
 Is it not, Charon? I ll not dignify it 
 
 With any of your sounding names. Are tyrants 
 
 Moulded of better clay than other men ? 
 
1 84 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Their souls of passions less corrupt and base 
 Than the vile fires that fill a common breast ? 
 What is there, then, to mark a tyrant s fall, 
 Nobler than marks the death of other men ? 
 Give them their names, great rogues, the deed that 
 
 slays them 
 
 Is but rogue-killing. But thousands fall with them ! 
 Well, what of that? a thousand baser rogues, 
 Slaves that support them, or endure their rule! 
 Kill me ten thousand such, tis still rogue-killing. 
 You twain the deed may call an act of virtue : 
 To me tis mischief-making. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Omens lie not : 
 
 The messenger was faithful ! Foolish nephew, 
 Get thee to horse again, and to the highway: 
 There posted, a true sentry, wait the coming 
 Of those thou wot st of. 
 
 MEL. 
 
 Why, they ne er will come ! 
 In such a night as this, a winter storm 
 Howling and freezing, no man can tread the paths 
 O er our rough mountains. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 No man that fears, like thee, 
 To face the blast. Sirrah, I do distrust thee! 
 This cold sleet drove thee from thy post, where now 
 Our brave friends wait thee. What, effeminate boy, 
 Canst thou, who fly st before a winter wind, 
 E er hope to face a Spartan? 
 
PELOPIDAS 185 
 
 MEL. 
 
 I am ready 
 
 To face a dozen; ready, too, and able, 
 Of mine own self, to do this perilous act, 
 You think so grand and virtuous ! 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 What, to kill 
 The Polemarchs? 
 
 MEL. 
 
 They banquet with my uncle. 
 Make me their cupbearer An ounce of hemlock 
 Were better than a thousand patriots ! 
 What hinders, then, to knock their guards o th head, 
 Rouse up the growling citizens, besiege, 
 And starve, the garrison in the Cadmea? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Thou speak st a boy, although a brave one. Hence 
 To th gates, and to Pelopidas; with whom, 
 (A follower, where to follow is distinction,) 
 Thy life of manhood thou shalt well begin, 
 With hope to end in glory. To the gates, 
 There to await the exiles. 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 And, hark ye, Melon: 
 When found, conduct them to my house, their 
 
 harbour 
 And fortress, till the hour of blood be come. 
 
186 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 MEL. 
 
 Safely and secretly ! 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 I pray, have ready 
 
 A store of weapons; for, tis like, they dare not 
 Enter in arms. 
 
 (A clatter of arms is heard without.) 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Hark! 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 TisthePolemarch! 
 
 My patron Archias! This bodes us news 
 From Athens! 
 
 (Enter ARCHIAS, attended.) 
 
 Hail, my prince and princely patron! 
 The gods befriend me in your countenance. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Our faithful Philidas. And Charon, too, 
 
 Of the best blood of Thebes, methinks, as faithful? 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Ever your highness slave. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 We hope, some day, 
 Charon will use a nobler name, our friend. 
 
PELOPIDAS 187 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Your highness would be with the Secretary. 
 
 I humbly take my leave. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 A hypocrite ! 
 
 But then all men are so: an enemy, 
 It may be; but to be the foe of power, 
 Needs a great heart of courage! I do think him 
 A friend (but, mark, in secret,) of the exiles; 
 Perhaps that one (yet he hath scarce the spirit,) 
 Of whom the pontiff speaks, an unknown traitor, 
 That hath sent letters to Pelopidas. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Is there such man in Thebes ? 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 So Iphias writes me; 
 
 But who he knows not : and Iphias hath his eye 
 Upon the exiles. What, by Jove! I tell thee, 
 Ere we yield up to pleasure, we must counsel 
 Of the state s danger ! 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 If it please my prince. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Know then, tis certain, (Iphias so reports it) 
 Those banished traitors, whom (their chiefs cut off, 
 None left them but the hot Pelopidas,) 
 We deemed so lightly of, a broken faction, 
 
1 88 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Impotent and despairing, have roused up 
 Into new life and energy, (as serpents, 
 That sleep through winter in the spring arise 
 Stronger in venom,) and straightway set their brains 
 To plot new treasons. Some friend in Thebes (the 
 
 knave 
 
 Shall feed the jackals!) sends them hope and counsel: 
 It was but yesterday, his courier (seen 
 By Iphias spies,) bore letters to Pelopidas, 
 And, with his charges, fled from Athens. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 This 
 
 Calls for new vigilance. But did the pontiff 
 Ravel the secret of the plot? 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 The traitors 
 
 Bear it too subtly. Yet something he hath learn d; 
 And he suspects, nay, is assured, (so hotly 
 Despair and their mad leader urge them on,) 
 They scheme (what think st thou?) a return to Thebes; 
 Here, in the tyrants den, to beard the tyrants 
 And strike the blow for faugh ! for liberty. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 This is most frantic! 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 And most fortunate : 
 
 It brings them in our power. While Iphias sends us 
 Word of their movements, we set our cunning traps, 
 And their first step in Thebes is on the scaffold! 
 
PELOPIDAS 189 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Mad traitors they ! And this bold visit when 
 Make they, or meditate? 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Full soon, says Iphias; 
 
 Yet knows not : on the morrow, we shall hear ; 
 Or soon as Iphias penetrates their secret. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Why then, most sure, the villains seek their death. 
 Methinks, I see a way to lure them on 
 Into the ready nets. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 There spoke my Philidas ! 
 To whom (for well I know, he hath a soul 
 Full of all policy,) in such a strait, 
 I come for counsel, rather than to my colleagues. 
 Alas, thou know st, to be a prince, is not 
 To be a capable governor : (to thee, 
 Who art my friend, I can speak plainly.) Fate 
 Hath cursed me with associates all unfit 
 For their high function. Dost thou think, that 
 
 Philip, 
 
 That thing of croaking fear and superstition, 
 Could aid, in such conjuncture? Or Leontidas? 
 Alas ! when Sparta, from her Theban friends, 
 Chose a third Polemarch, she sought not out 
 The best and wisest; or her choice had ne er 
 Fall n on Leontidas, a man of pleasure, 
 Who, on Sibylla s wanton lap, would rather 
 Dream a charmed life away, than rise in arms 
 Against her traitor husband. 
 
190 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 From such weak coadjutors, I must turn 
 To my best friend and counsellor, Philidas; 
 On whose wise policy I rely, to bring 
 These dark affairs to issue. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Would I might prove 
 Worthy your highness praise. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Catch me these knaves ; 
 Or but their chief, Pelopidas ; (the rest 
 Are but his tools and weapons naught without 
 The hand that wields them :) and look (if Archias 
 Hath credit yet with Sparta,) soon to sit 
 In the chair of Leontidas. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 My wishes 
 
 Aim at no higher office than to serve 
 My most magnificent patron. But these traitors! 
 What if we send some seeming friend to them, 
 To urge them in their purpose ? 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 If Iphias err not, 
 
 They need no spur. The danger lies in this, 
 That, by a sudden frenzy goaded on, 
 They may leap on us ere we have warning. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Give me 
 
 Power o er the guard : I ll have the gates so watched, 
 No man shall pass without my eye upon him. 
 
PELOPIDAS 191 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 It shall be so! I ll serve thee and myself, 
 
 In the same act. The gallant youth, thy nephew, 
 
 Shall be made Captain of the Guard. 
 
 PHIL. (Aside.) 
 
 The gods 
 
 Make them their own destroyers! A wild youth, 
 But brave and trusty; and for his faith I ll answer 
 As for my own. 
 
 Our officer. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 To-morrow, then, shall see him 
 PHIL. 
 
 To-night, my prince, to-night! 
 
 Who knows what deeds this night may see attempted ? 
 What if the traitors should set forth to-night ? 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Thou hast no fears of that ? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 No fears, my prince: 
 But the wise fight gainst possibilities. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 I like thy zeal : it shall be as you wish. 
 
 Have the youth in attendance at the banquet, 
 
 To take his sword of office. 
 
192 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 My prince s slave! 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 And hark ye, Philidas, I mean to prove 
 
 My friendship further. That unknown knave in 
 
 Thebes 
 
 In correspondence with the traitors, couldst thou 
 Believe that man was Charon ? 
 
 I think him faithful. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Charon, my prince ! 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 By my life, not I. 
 
 He hath the means- to stir the people, look you, 
 This discontented rabble ; which, averse 
 To our authority, a rich man s gold 
 May easily bribe to riot. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Alas, your highness, 
 I ever held him ranked among your friends. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 We ll have no friends with means to be our foes. 
 His wealth is dangerous, and should be owned 
 By trustier friends. Dost thou conceive me, Philidas ? 
 Fasten on him (for thy shrewd wit may do it,) 
 A charge of correspondence with the exiles, 
 And thou art heir to half his wealth. 
 
PELOPIDAS 193 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 I see him 
 Already On the block ! 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Why, then, for pleasure! 
 
 The state is served; Archias may now unbend, 
 And play the reveller, like any Theban. 
 Fools, like Leontidas, may give their souls, 
 And every thought, to pleasure, till the sense 
 Surfeits and sickens o er the constant feast: 
 Better a Spartan knows, who, with denial 
 And toil, his eager passions keep? alive, 
 Ever with fullest appetite for bliss. 
 This night to pleasure, then, my Philidas ! 
 Spread ye the board with dainties rich and rare ; 
 Your halls with dancers and musicians fill ; 
 And Thebes best beauties summon to the feast, 
 To crown with love and joy their Polemarchs. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Dainties of every clime shall spread the board : 
 Fine dancers and musicians fill the halls ; 
 And the most beauteous dames of Thebes appear, 
 To crown with love and joy their Polemarchs! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE III. Under the walls of Thebes. A storm 
 blowing. (Enter DAMOCLIDES, LA ON, and other exiles 
 (eleven in all,) as Hunters, in skin cloaks.) 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Be of good heart. I warrant me, our leader 
 Will find us hope, even in this misadventure. 
 
 13 
 
194 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 1ST EXILE. 
 
 Tis strange. 
 
 LAON 
 
 What! that we are under our own walls, 
 And something doubtful, like to whipt out curs, 
 Whether to enter! 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Friends ! ye are discontented ! 
 
 This speaks not well for Thebans. Will ye shrink 
 From the bold deed that frees a bleeding country, 
 Which ye have sworn so often to achieve ? 
 
 LAON 
 
 Shrink ! If you put me once but on the track 
 Of a Spartan, peasant be he or Polemarch, 
 And find me shrink from following, proclaim me 
 A braggart. But to be kept here, exposed 
 To biting tempests, and to feel the strength 
 Which should be spent upon our enemies, 
 Wasting before a north- wind, while the tyrants 
 Are feasting warmly in our palaces ; 
 This moves me. And no villain messenger 
 To bid us to the city! Is this juggling? 
 Or are our colleagues in the city cowards ? 
 Who ll answer for their spirit or their faith? 
 
 (Enter PELOPIDAS.) 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I, Laon! This unbecoming peevishness, 
 Which rashly charges a long trusted friend 
 
PELOPIDAS 195 
 
 With an unworthy motive, is unworthy. 
 
 Fy ! you know not how many eyes are set 
 
 On the obscurest citizen of Thebes : 
 
 Think st thou the titled Philidas is unwatched ? 
 
 And who will warrant, mine own messenger 
 
 Has yet found opening to approach him ? 
 
 LAON 
 
 True: 
 
 Therefore I yield me petulant and rash . 
 But the main cause of trouble still remains : 
 What s to be done? Without advices, shall we 
 Break a gate open with our fists, and fight, 
 We twelve, against their thousands? Or remain 
 Here on the road, warming ourselves with fury, 
 Till morning mars us? Or retire to Athens, 
 To meet the laughter of her citizens, 
 And the hireling knife and poison of assassins? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 To enter unadvisedly were death ; 
 To pause, the same ; but to retreat were worse 
 That were dishonour. At the Delian Gate 
 I looked to find a friend : this charged I Philidas. 
 No man is there, none save the drowsy warders, 
 Whom twere not hard to pass, were t wise to pass. 
 Whate er the luckless cause of this mishap, 
 Tis most unfortunate, yet must not stay us. 
 The steel that rids our country of her tyrants 
 Must strike to-night, or never. Be assured, 
 The spies and murderers that, like vultures, hung 
 Upon our exiled paths, and made, in Athens, 
 The firesides of our friends as perilous to us 
 
196 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 As Theban prisons, have, ere now, discovered 
 
 Our flight from Athens, and advice despatched 
 
 To the three tyrants. What! we must forestall them. 
 
 LAON 
 
 But how? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 One of us, venturing for the rest, 
 Must pass the gate, and seek our friends. 
 
 LAON 
 
 And who 
 
 Will undertake this madman s enterprise ? 
 I say naught of its peril ; since not that 
 Would hinder me. But, as ten thousand chances 
 Make against one, that he who volunteers it, 
 Falls in the tyrants hands, and thus, not only 
 Brings death upon himself and all that follow, 
 But ruins our poor country s latest hope, 
 I think, none here will choose to be that one. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Thou art deceived ; myself will be that one ! 
 It is an office of honour which I covet 
 Next unto that of striking the first blow : 
 And whatsoe er betide myself, I swear 
 By Pluto, never a man here standing by me 
 Shall rue the enterprise. Lie here in wait. 
 If there be yet in Thebes a friend of Thebes, 
 Ye shall full soon be sent for. For myself, 
 Expect me not. When I set out from Athens, 
 I made my vow to Jove, and here repeat it, 
 Once enter d that wronged city, ne er again 
 To leave it, living, whilst a tyrant lives. 
 
PELOPIDAS 197 
 
 DAM. 
 
 May the gods speed ye, who have raised ye up 
 To be our leader ! We will trust our lives 
 And honours in your keeping. 
 
 LA ON 
 
 Ay, Heaven speed ye ! 
 A man may grumble, and be honest too. 
 But pardon a weak jealousy, which I 
 Must utter : In yon city, noble friend, 
 You may find many valiant spirits, ready 
 To join and strike with you. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I hope so, Laon. 
 
 LAON 
 
 If you do take them with you to the act, 
 Forgetting us to whom the deed belongs, 
 Robbing us of the honour 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Never doubt me: 
 
 You shall be sent for presently, and find 
 Friends to support, not to precede ye. 
 
 LAON 
 
 I am content. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Let one be ready with the fleetest horse, 
 
 That moment my messenger reaches ye, to spur 
 
198 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 To th f Hill of Fortune for our friends; and thence 
 To Athens, to bring on the band of youths, 
 Allowed to march, when we have won the city 
 And we shall win it. We must have assistance, 
 At dawn, to invest and storm the citadel. 
 To-morrow s eve must find no warring Spartan 
 Breathing in Thebes. 
 
 DAM. 
 This shall be done. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 And when 
 
 Ye follow him that I shall send for you, 
 Be it in silence and simplicity, 
 As huntsmen still. Let no one straggle from you, 
 To visit his home; but follow sternly on 
 To where brave deeds and everlasting honour 
 Await you. 
 
 DAM. 
 This is well. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 And hark ye, friends. 
 Since the gross cunning of a silly peasant 
 May trap a tiger, a mere man, like me, 
 May chance upon some pitfall, which the craft 
 Of yonder tyrants hollows in our path. 
 
 LAON 
 
 Well ! Doth Pelopidas talk of peril ? 
 
PELOPIDAS 199 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Ay: 
 
 Why should I not ? I have a wife, brave Laon : 
 A boy, too, who, if the great gods but spare him, 
 Will one day spit at Spartans. 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Noble friend, 
 
 Rest you content. There s never a Theban here 
 Will e er desert them. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 And my gray old father ? 
 
 DAM. 
 
 He shall be ours. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Why then this feat is nothing! 
 I shall now think of naught but Thebes. Farewell: 
 Be of good heart, and ready. Farewell, farewell. 
 This night ye banquet with the Polemarchs! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 END OF ACT I. 
 
ACT II 
 
 SCENE I. A room in the house of PELOPIDAS. 
 (Enter SIBYLLA, leading the boy HYLAS, and followed by 
 a Female Slave.) 
 
 SIBYLLA 
 
 Go, get thee hence, and let me hear no more. 
 Go, go! The gods desert me! Hence, I say. 
 I will not see him. 
 
 (Exit Slave.) 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Mother! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 My loved boy! 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Mother, you weep ! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Why, dost thou think, poor mouse, 
 There are no sorrows but for childhood? none 
 Beyond the schoolbook and the pedagogue? 
 
 HYL. 
 
 No mother: for my teacher says, that sorrow 
 Haunts man s possessions all, except his grave. 
 
 200 
 
PELOPIDAS 201 
 
 But when I weep, it is not long; for some one, 
 That loves me, comes and comforts me. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 And who 
 
 Have / to love me and to comfort me ? 
 Poor prattling boy, thou art the only one 
 Of the bright many that once thronged around me. 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Oh, but my father will come back ! 
 
 Forbid! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 The gods 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Do you not love him, mother? 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Thou shouldst be whipped, thou magpie, for that 
 question. 
 
 HYL. 
 I love him, mother, and I wish him back! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 And I, who love him with a flame that scorches 
 The thought of self out of my heart, and limits 
 Life to the measure of his dear affection, 
 Wish him a thousand miles away from Thebes, 
 Ay, a whole million, so I were but with him ! 
 Sirrah, dost thou not know, these knavish princes, 
 These Spartan governors, would kill him ? They 
 
202 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Who have set a price upon his head, as on 
 The meanest felon s, and decreed it death 
 To any hind that in his cot receives him ! 
 No ! the heavens witness, the mere thought that he, 
 Moved by a rash and restless enterprise, 
 Should approach Thebes, his most unhappy city, 
 Affrights me. Better, better thus to know him, 
 A houseless, friendless, childless, wifeless exile, 
 Than see him dead! 
 
 HYL. 
 
 But, mother, if you love him, 
 You will go to Athens; and, if you love me, 
 You will take me with you : I should be so happy ! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Happy indeed, thou prattler! But these Spartans,- 
 These bandogs that have driven out the shepherds, 
 And turned upon the flock, will have none happy 
 Under their rule : no, they will not permit 
 Even a poor child and mother to be happy. 
 
 HYL. 
 Are they all cruel, mother? 
 
 SIB. 
 
 All, my babe. 
 
 HYL. 
 
 I thought my lord Leontidas was not. 
 I think he loves me, mother ! For, this morning, 
 He said that I should be a soldier, with 
 A horse and spear Think of that, mother! And 
 He gave me this brave dagger. 
 
PELOPIDAS 203 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Cast it away! 
 
 Put thy foot on it Thy hand is yet too weak 
 To use it on the giver! 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Mother? 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Never 
 Again take gift from him. 
 
 HYL. 
 
 I will not, mother. 
 But he spoke kindly. 
 
 (Enter LEONTIDAS, behind.) 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Oh, I doubt not Kindly! 
 His kindness is a dulcet death; and, like 
 The aerial poison of a Siren s song, 
 Consumes the life, while it delights the sense. 
 He is thy father s bitterest enemy: 
 And thou must hate him, ay, and pray the gods 
 Knit thy young limbs into precocious strength, 
 That thou may st kill him. 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Kill him, mother? 
 See, he smiles on us ! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 He! Where? Ah! Ye gods, 
 Pity me and protect me ! This is well, 
 And courteous, Polemarch ! Does the tyranny 
 
204 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Of your brave rule invade even the retirement 
 Of a poor matron s household? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 When it hatches 
 
 Treason. Dame, thou hast eloquence enough 
 To turn the brains of half our citizens : 
 And what I have heard, this musical adjuration, 
 Which schools a child to be my enemy, 
 Makes myself almost turn against myself, 
 Leontidas detest Leontidas. 
 My pretty young soldier, thou dost hate me now? 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Yes, I do hate thee. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 That s my little Greek. 
 
 And, for thy ready obedience to thy mother, 
 Run to the court, and tell my Thracian groom 
 He must let thee ride upon a tall, brave horse. 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Mother! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Stir not. What, wilt thou let the honey 
 Of a stranger s charming tongue befool thee ever? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 You are cruel, lady, and not only to me 
 Whose love should claim a lovelier recompense; 
 To your fair self, whom tis unnatural 
 
PELOPIDAS 205 
 
 For your fair self to wrong; but to this boy, 
 
 Whom you breed up to sorrow. You do condemn him 
 
 To an anticipated, bloody death, 
 
 In the wild counsels you so rashly give him : 
 
 And teaching him thus to reject my favour, 
 
 You rob him of a friend, who has the power 
 
 To advance his fortunes. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 He shall have no advancement 
 That thou canst give him, Polemarch. The son 
 Of the most noble of Boeotian patriots 
 Shall take no favours of Boeotian tyrants. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Now is this woman s prattle! Patriots, tyrants! 
 As if the restless beggar that would mount, 
 Yet cannot, were a nobler spirit than he 
 That has clomb to power already ! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Mak st thou the patriot 
 So poor a thing ? Is there no charm in virtue ? 
 No merit in the love of country? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Ay: 
 
 But what have virtue and the love of country 
 To do with patriots? Such things may have been, 
 F th golden ages : but, now, they are the fictions, 
 Wherewith th ambitious fight their way to rule, 
 And gull the freeborn slaves, their helpers-on. 
 Virtue! Why virtue sits at home, apart 
 
206 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 From the great world, and its great villanies; 
 
 And so doth freedom, which is only free 
 
 Where one sole man inhabits. The love of country 
 
 Is but another name for love of that 
 
 Wherewith our country can enrich us, wealth, 
 
 Dignity, power, the great divinities 
 
 Which all men worship, and their only virtues. 
 
 He that seeks these things is the patriot ; 
 
 And he that has them, and from the seeker keeps them, 
 
 Tyrant or so your patriot calls him. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Alas! 
 
 If there be, then, no patriot, what is he 
 That bleeds, nay, dies too, for his country ? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 A soldier, 
 
 That seeks the shortest road to power, and wins it 
 By th stupid shedding of some drops of blood; 
 When great minds, greatly toiling, lose the prize : 
 But yet not always wins it. Dost thou believe, 
 Pelopidas, this manikin s sire, my rival 
 Of old, as now, went forth to Mantinea 
 To die for naught, or for his country? 
 
 SIB. 
 
 For 
 His country, for naught else ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 By Mercury, 
 
 He won the prize though! Scarce were his wounds 
 well healed, 
 
PELOPIDAS 207 
 
 When, rising from his sick-couch, he besought 
 The people, the dear people, in whose cause 
 He had bled, for the great post of Bceotarch, 
 (That office for which / so long had toiled,) 
 And the dear people gave it. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 And they never 
 Chose a more noble governor ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Or lost 
 
 A more deserving one. From that moment, dame, 
 I, a good patriot then, because in want 
 Of all my foe had gained, swore, the dear people 
 Should ne er choose other governor; and they shall 
 
 not. 
 
 Ne er shall my rival look again to mount, 
 The chair of rule, that chair which may be soon 
 Higher and nobler, a royal one, a throne 
 Holding a king; the while my patriot rival 
 Wanders, a baffled exile, through the world. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Let it be so ; be thou a king, Pelopidas 
 A baffled exile : use but thy clemency, 
 Discharge me from thy court, that I may follow 
 My baffled exile in his wanderings. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Thou shalt remain to share my fate, to rail, 
 To scold, to tyrannize, yet be my queen. 
 
208 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Never! Wert thou upon Olympus top, 
 
 Throned in the state of Jove, and my poor husband 
 
 Chained, like a Helot, in his den below, 
 
 I should not choose, I could not choose, a moment 
 
 Betwixt the two, the noblest and the basest. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Hah ! you are mad ! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Discharge me ; 
 
 Give me to go : and, if twill move thee, know, 
 I hate thee, tyrant, hate thee and despise thee! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 This is a frenzy in you. Though your boldness 
 May trifle with my passion, yet beware 
 My anger. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Oh, my fate! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 A scorned affection 
 
 Withers at last to spiteful hate; a love, 
 Leavened by constant insult, turns to gall. 
 Love I have offered thee, such as would make thee 
 The partner of a throne, mistress of power, 
 And pomp, and pleasure, beyond all other women. 
 Beware the change thine own wild words provoke, 
 The fury that may crush thee, ay, and all 
 Thou lovest. 
 
PELOPIDAS 209 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Mother! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Manikin, how now? 
 
 No tears! Why this is well! rare gallantry! 
 New courtship ! A weak, silly woman s whims, 
 And perhaps coyness, must be frighted from her! 
 Thou scorn st the soft and delicate persuasion, 
 The tender and submissive oratory, 
 Which common lovers put upon their tongues ; 
 Wouldst win by talking of thy hate and fury ! 
 My boy! A rare, fine wooing! a new courtship! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Lady, you jest? 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Oh, no My boy, my boy! 
 What, fright me into kindness ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 I pr ythee, pardon 
 
 If my rough tyranny have drawn those tears, 
 I pray you, pardon me. Your beauty drives me 
 Into a mood of folly, which your sarcasms 
 Sting into frenzy Why do you stir me thus ? 
 Would you but smile a little, howe er you railed, 
 No slave should be more gentle and submissive. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 My boy, too! threat my boy? my innocent boy, 
 That has not malice, yet, to harm a reptile. 
 14 
 
210 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 LEON. 
 
 These were vain words: and, well thou know st, 
 
 Sibylla, 
 
 Thy favour is a refuge and protection 
 Safe as an altar. 
 
 SIB. (ToHylas.) 
 Sirrah, will you go study? 
 
 LEON. 
 Stay, lady. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Oh, my lord, I thought you were bent 
 To win my kindness ? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 With my best of service ! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 To-night I would be with my child alone. 
 Oh, my good lord, you know not woman s nature: 
 Our humours are the ladders to our heart ; 
 And he who would climb into its richest seats, 
 Must step them gently, one by one. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 I ll please you; 
 And dream I am one step nearer to your love. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Slave! that my fate should bind me to dissemble 
 A moment with a wretch so scorned as thou ! 
 
 (Exit with HYLAS.) 
 
PELOPIDAS 211 
 
 SCENE II. A room in PHILIDAS S house. (Enter 
 PHILIDAS and a Slave.) 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 All finished? all complete? the tables spread 
 With viands costly and luxurious ? 
 The couches cushioned with rich robes ? the torches 
 Lighted? ( Tis brave!) the dancers and musicians 
 Already come? and (hark ye, did ye mark?) 
 Close barred the casements, to shut out the cries 
 Of the disorderly base rabble? (Alack! 
 And to shut in some others !) 
 
 (Enter a second Slave.) 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 What ! how now ? 
 Come they, my princely masters and my guests? 
 
 2D SLAVE 
 
 A peasant and a huntsman, as he says, 
 
 With a present of game, a fat hind and wild boar 
 
 Craves to speak with you. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Out upon the boor ! 
 
 Take him among you, and let him feed and sleep. 
 I ll see him on the morrow. (Exit 2D SLAVE.) Where 
 
 bides my nephew, 
 My petulant, wilful kinsman? 
 
 1ST SLAVE 
 
 Good my master, 
 He hath ta en horse, and ridden I know not whither. 
 
212 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 What ! i the storm ? The madcap ! Pray the gods, 
 He quickly meet them ! Why , this feast would feed 
 Five hundred starving Thebans ! 
 
 (Re-enter 2D SLAVE.) 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 What, again ? 
 
 2D SLAVE 
 
 The huntsman, may it please you, 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Out, the knave ! 
 What want I with huntsmen? 
 
 Twelve hounds 
 
 2D SLAVE 
 
 Says he has brought with him 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Twelve villains! What would I with hounds? 
 (Aside.) Unless they were bloodhounds of a kind I 
 dream of ! 
 
 2D SLAVE 
 
 He says, you will like these, master; for they are 
 Of the true old Cadmean breed. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Hah! what? 
 Of the Cadmean breed? Twelve hounds! 
 
 2D SLAVE 
 
 And trained 
 To hunt all manner of beasts. 
 
PELOPIDAS 213 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Bring him before me. 
 (Exit 20 SLAVE.) 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Get you to the kitchen, sirrah, and see the dancers 
 And harpers well bestowed. (Exit i ST SLAVE.) Twelve 
 
 hounds? Twelve hounds? 
 Of the Cadmean stock, and trained to hunt 
 All manner of beasts ! That has a meaning in it. 
 (Enter PELOPIDAS, disguised as before, with 20 SLAVE.) 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Get you away; seek out my nephew Melon: 
 
 I have occasion for him. (Exit 2D SLAVE.) Are you 
 
 mad? 
 
 Speak not above your breath. You have enter d into 
 The tiger s den; and the least syllable 
 Of your known voice would rouse more fear and fury 
 Than a loud trumpet. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 You have sharp eyes, Philidas? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 For heaven s sake, go. A moment, and the tyrants, 
 The Polemarchs, are with us. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Am not I 
 
 Also a guest? I come to sup with them, 
 I and some others that they wot not of. 
 I pray you, moderate your fears : if you 
 Stand safely in their favours, all is well. 
 
214 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 And if they see you ? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Well, they will see naught 
 But a poor abject clod, a grovelling peasant. 
 They see not with your eyes : and I have had proof, 
 Even at your doors, that my disguise conceals me. 
 That varlet, Kalon, he that has dwelt years 
 Among my household, he that let me in, 
 And spake with me, he did not know me. Where 
 fore 
 
 Content ye; and advise me why ye sent not 
 An answer to my messenger ? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 A messenger ! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 That moment I a hint received of this 
 
 Your festival, I sent ye word again 
 
 I should be with you. The knave was trusty, too : 
 
 This must be looked to. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 But your twelve hounds, twelve friends ! 
 Brought ye no more? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 They have all sworn to die, 
 Or free their country, and they are enough. 
 Send for them at the Delian Gate : they lie 
 Among the rocks beneath the wall. 
 
PELOPIDAS 215 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 TheDelian? 
 
 Twas at th Athenian port I looked to find you; 
 And there my nephew waits. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Well, let him seek them 
 
 At the Delian Gate, where they lie hid : the others, 
 Four hundred armed and desperate men are posted, 
 (Or will be, soon), upon the Hill of Fortune. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 It shall be done. Perhaps, I could explain 
 This luckless riddle of the messenger; 
 But more delay were dangerous. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Are all things 
 
 Ready for midnight ? In the street, I saw 
 An old man perishing. But tis no matter 
 I thought me of my father ! 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 These things are common. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Common! Yes, common, where Tyranny hath 
 
 planted 
 
 Her iron foot, and men permit to trample. 
 Alas, my Philidas ! is not many unworthy 
 The gift of freedom ? I ask myself, Wherefore 
 Is Thebes enslaved? There are a million men, 
 
216 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Whom three men tread upon, rob, scourge, and 
 
 murder, 
 
 Do what they will with; and the million sit 
 Passive and cowering, as if twere gods that ruled 
 
 them, 
 
 Not men, infernal deities, whom neither 
 Fire nor steel can harm, not perishing creatures, 
 Whom wasps might sting to death, or a mere schoolboy 
 Slay with an arrow! 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 This is the stupor ever 
 
 Of bondage, and ill the gods inflict, to punish 
 Our wickedness, and, in that stupor only, 
 Make it endurable or possible. 
 When heaven relents, the slumber ends, and men 
 Start up their own avengers. But now, I pray you, 
 Bethink you of your danger, and depart. 
 Proceed to Charon s house; whereto your followers 
 Shall be conducted. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 To Charon s? 
 
 I have a thing here I had thought to quell it; 
 But twill not. Philidas! 
 
 (Distant trumpets heard.) 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Hark! the Polemarchs! 
 It is the trumpets of their guards, their Spartans ! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Were they posted round your doors, I have a question, 
 Which must be answered ere I leave you. 
 
PELOPIDAS 217 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Speak it. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I have a wife here, Philidas What ! shrink you? 
 
 The weakness of my nature, (I confess it: 
 
 My heart yearned like a girl s, when I bethought me 
 
 Of her, long left deserted and in peril:) 
 
 This weakness led me even to the door 
 
 Of my retired mansion; where, instead 
 
 Of an obscure and quiet solitude, 
 
 Such as should in a matron s house prevail, 
 
 I found the casements flashing with the light 
 
 Of flambeaux, and the halls reechoing 
 
 With songs and revelry. It chilled my heart 
 
 What means it, Philidas? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Now shame upon you! 
 At such a time, to think of aught 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I say, 
 What means it, Philidas ? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Fy fy! perhaps 
 
 She hath invited friends. Our goodly dames 
 Must have their pleasures, even the while their hus 
 bands 
 
 For them their rich lives are adventuring. 
 Pr ythee, away now; and believe there s nothing 
 Evil in what thou st seen. 
 
218 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Believe! believe! 
 
 Nothing of evil! What thou knowest, Philidas, 
 Though it were such an evil as would crush 
 My heart to dust, and, for the laurel crown, 
 Cover my head with shame, advise me of it. 
 I will not stir, till thou hast told me all. 
 
 PHIL. 
 Repress your indignation then. Leontidas 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Leontidas ! I ask you of my wife, 
 Of my Sibylla : speak to me of her. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 First; then, your house, confiscate long ago, 
 Is now the palace of Leontidas. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Well! 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 But you tremble? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Go on My house, 
 The palace of Leontidas ! 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Wherein 
 
 His parasites, those meaner ones that are 
 From my high feast excluded, hold, perhaps, 
 A revel of their own. 
 
PELOPIDAS 219 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Why, this is well, 
 
 Well, well! but nothing of my wife! Has he, 
 This Thebes-born Spartan, the renegade, through 
 
 whom 
 
 Sparta wrought out our ruin, has he, then, 
 Driven her forth, her and her little infant? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Not so: they are both still in the house, detained, 
 I am sure, unwilling. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 What! ha, ha! unwilling? 
 Come, you mete out your niggard words as if 
 They were life-drops from your heart. They are 
 
 enamoured ! 
 Is it not so? Women are fickle, Philidas! 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 This is the rumour. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I will kill her, Philidas! 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 You rave ! It is but rumour. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 What! to fright me, 
 
 With the palsying grasp of a domestic shame, 
 From the bright pathway of eternal honour! 
 
220 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 I ll stake my life upon Sibylla s faith. 
 How can she hinder, if the Polemarch 
 Will choose to love, or to imprison her? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Love her! The gods confound him I will grind him 
 To atoms! tear him to pieces! 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Why so thou shouldst. 
 
 Such wrong should move thee faster in thy purpose, 
 And stir thee onwards to a great revenge. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Revenge! Thou dost not know me, Philidas. 
 I would have sacrificed him to my country ! 
 This sinks my virtue into personal fury, 
 And makes the deed my vengeance, not my country s! 
 (Trumpets and music.) 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 I do beseech you, go And yet, I fear, 
 It is too late. Hark! they are at the gates! 
 Banish these angry wrinkles from your brow : 
 Assume humility; and, for the love 
 Of our brave friends, and for our country s weal, 
 Which you have perilled by this rashness, speak not : 
 Of, if impelled by questioning, remember 
 You are here a peasant, not Pelopidas. 
 Give me your spear; it will but wake suspicion. 
 (He casts the spear away. Music.) 
 
PELOPIDAS 221 
 
 (Enter ARCHIAS, and PHILIP, with other Guests, and 
 Attendants.) 
 
 Health, honour, and welcome to my noble princes ! 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Our trusty Secretary I (To PHILIP.) Well! I tell thee, 
 These portents, that alarm the ignorant vulgar, 
 Philosophers laugh at: tell them not to me. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 (A part to PHILIDAS . ) Philidas ! 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Peace! 
 
 PELOP. 
 Where didst thou hide my spear? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Where t shall not serve thy madness. 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 But the vision 
 Seen with mine own eyes? 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Why, it was a vision 
 Seen with thine eyes, then, but thine eyes turned 
 
 inward 
 
 Upon thy frighted fancies. Fy ! I tell thee, 
 Thou wilt be laughed at. 
 
222 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Peace! (Aloud.) What says my prince? 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Our brother Philip hath been pleased to see, 
 Just now, some terrible phantom at the doors 
 Of that arch-knave, Pelopidas. 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Deride me 
 
 Much as thou wilt; but, Archias, as I live, 
 I tell thee truly : I was passing out, 
 After some counsel with Leontidas; 
 And saw, among the shadows of the portal, 
 A gloomy shape that raised its hand, and pointed 
 Unto the house with menacing gesture, and 
 Nay, I remember now, it did not speak: 
 But the light of the flambeaux falling on it, 
 Revealed 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 What? 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Hah ! What ho, the guard ! 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 How now? 
 What is this fellow ? And wherefore dost thou fear him ? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 (A part to PELOPIDAS.) Madman! 
 
PELOPIDAS 223 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 By Jupiter, two stars, two comets, 
 Are not more like than were that shape and this ! 
 Who art thou? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 A poor peasant, good my prince, 
 
 A wolf hunter. I pray your highness pardon, 
 
 If that my ignorant folly did alarm you. 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Fellow, it was not thou. This thing I saw, 
 Though like thyself attired, did bear it nobly: 
 Ay! and methought its frowning face resembled 
 The aspect of Pelopidas! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Oh, my lord, 
 
 I am no traitor; yet, forsooth, twas I. 
 I did but wonder, when I thought how much 
 The gods did smile on some, who thus reposed 
 In golden palaces; while others, wretches 
 Like me, were shivering in the houseless air, 
 And hissed at by their fates, as by the tempests. 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 But thou didst frown! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Ay, sooth, and cursed too,- 
 To think how, like a cur, they drove me forth, 
 When I did beg to warm me at their fires, 
 And pray for bread of their rough menials. 
 
224 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Alack! I did forget that him the gods 
 Frown on, man frowns on too, adding his scorn 
 To the sharp scourges of adversity; 
 I did forget I was a poor, base hind, 
 And they too rich and great to pity me. 
 Yes, I did curse them! 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 And for that, thou knave, 
 Thou shouldst be punished. Learn to be humble, 
 
 sirrah. 
 Whence comes this caitiff? and what doth he here? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 A hunter from the mountains, good my prince, 
 
 A poor rude fellow, that would take service with me, 
 
 Being weary of his calling. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Let him be looked to ; 
 
 Dost thou observe? For, though so rude and brutish 
 In his appearance, there s a dangerous cunning 
 Lurks in his eye, and mutters on his tongue : 
 Even peasants, sometimes, play the patriot! 
 Let him be looked to: I, upon the morrow, 
 Will sound him further. But no more business 
 To-night, which must be all given up to pleasure. 
 So end all visions, Philip! Come, to the banquet! 
 (Exeunt, with music, all but PHILIDAS and PELOPIDAS.) 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 (Gazing after Archias.) To-morrow, fool! there s not a 
 
 cur in Thebes 
 Shall think thy bones too noble to be gnawn! 
 
PELOPIDAS 225 
 
 Peace, Philidas ! thou wilt call me rash and mad : 
 
 I could not stand before them face to face, 
 
 These things of clay that sit i th seats of Heaven, 
 
 Holding the reins of rule, yet, all the while, 
 
 Base as the things they rule, these pitiful wretches 
 
 (For, sure, they are pitiful,) that hold in bonds 
 
 A gallant people, a warlike, freeborn people, 
 
 Without being moved to passion. And such men 
 
 All Thebes cries Masters to ! Well, be it so: 
 
 There are Thebans yet to bring them to the reckoning ! 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 I pray you now, 
 
 Go, and be wiser; and, as you shall answer 
 For all the lives that hang upon your prudence, 
 Go not near your own house. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 What, Philidas! 
 
 Thou should st not then have said it ! But, I pr ythee, 
 See that my friends be housed with noble Charon. 
 And, if thou canst, ply well the guards with wine: 
 Let them drink deep. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 It shall be done, and well too. 
 I have hopes they will prefer my nephew Melon 
 To be the Captain of the Guard. And, hearken : 
 They have commanded I should grace the feast 
 With guests ne er seen at such a festival, 
 The loveliest and most noble maids of Thebes ; 
 Whom Archias, too, would have (as if their presence 
 Were not enough of shame, ) come garbed for pleasure 
 In the Bacchante robe and coronal. 
 
 IS 
 
226 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Enough ; their own device instructs us. This will pass 
 
 us 
 
 Through their besotted warders. But beneath 
 Each flowery crown shall lurk a stinging adder, 
 Under each robe a death. Away, and lull them. 
 Act thy part well, and think of us at midnight ! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 END OF ACT II. 
 
ACT III 
 
 SCENE I. A room in Charon s house. (Enter 
 CHARON, MELON, DAMOCLIDES, and the other exiles.) 
 
 CHARON 
 
 Enter, brave friends! It warms my heart to see you, 
 To know, in these base days of bonds, there are 
 Some Greeks yet that will sell themselves to death, 
 Rather than slavery. But where, I pray you, 
 Is our heart s hope, Pelopidas? 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Nay, where? 
 
 Sought he not you ? He did advance before us, 
 To try the perilous entrance of the city. 
 
 LAON 
 
 Perhaps with Philidas? 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Nay, the gods forbid! 
 He haps there on the tyrants. 
 
 LAON 
 
 Would my dagger 
 
 Were at the throat o th messenger, that brought us 
 
 227 
 
228 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 To this confusion! Where, then, should he be? 
 It may be, with Sibylla? 
 
 MEL. 
 
 That were madder 
 
 Than being with mine uncle : he there falls 
 Into the clutches of Leontidas. 
 
 LAON 
 
 By heaven! he bad us, each man on his truth, 
 Look not on wife or child, till he could bear them 
 The gift of freedom. Twas a wise man s charge. 
 Yet, well we know, his strong heart beats the woman 
 When one salutes it with Sibylla s name. 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 It is not possible he who saw the pit, 
 
 And warned his friends, should be the first to fall. 
 
 This were so rash a step, so full of peril 
 
 To our great enterprise, so full of shame, too, 
 
 To him that takes it, and of wrong to those 
 
 That are leagued with him no! I ll ne er believe it. 
 
 It were, indeed, a madness: for Leontidas, 
 
 Our forsworn countryman, has craft and wit 
 
 Beyond his colleagues: to come near him were 
 
 To be discovered and so ruined. Tarry 
 
 Awhile; and all will yet go well. Thou, Melon, 
 
 Away to Philidas, and him acquaint 
 
 With this our misadventure. As for us, 
 
 Though leaderless, yet are we strong enough 
 
 To strike the blow we aim at. Friends, go in, 
 
 And fit yourselves with weapons and disguises. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
PELOPIDAS 229 
 
 SCENE II. A banquetting room in Philidas s 
 house. ARCHIAS, PHILIDAS, and the Guests discovered 
 on couches, with tables set out, attended . The storm, 
 at intervals, heard without. 
 
 ARCH. 
 Raves the storm yet? Why then, tis like, those fair 
 
 ones 
 Will never grace the banquet ? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 On my head be it : 
 
 Nor frost nor storm shall keep them from the board, 
 When the hour comes for their appointed visit. 
 Will you have music now ? Our gentle harpers, 
 Lamprus and Dionysius, still can draw 
 A smile of rapture out of melancholy; 
 And the soft flutings of Olympiodorus 
 Breathe like sweet zephyrs through Elysium. 
 Or, lo, these playing, an invisible choir, 
 The nimble dancers shall amuse my prince, 
 Those airy spirits, who, in grace, outvie 
 The wanton Dryads, whom they imitate, 
 Skipping, as eve and Dian call them up, 
 Through the green alleys of a haunted wood. 
 
 (Enter, as Wood-nymphs, Female Dancers, who dance to 
 music of flutes and other instruments.) 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Such were the Nymphs o th Wood; of whom twas 
 
 fabled 
 
 Their beauty struck the wandering gazer mad. 
 Give me, my Philidas, for nymphs so baleful, 
 
230 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Those human Dryads, daughters of men, whose 
 
 charms 
 
 Delight, not madden, inflame the brain to joy, 
 Not fire to frenzy. 
 
 (Here a great shout is heard from the street, which arrests 
 the dance and music.) 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Hark ! what sound is that ? 
 (Enter MELON.) 
 What means this clamour? 
 
 MEL. 
 
 Good my prince, a folly 
 
 Of the poor rabble, the grim and hungry rogues, 
 That pause i th street to catch the sounds of revel, 
 And the cold bits thrown to them. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 But the cause 
 Of the great outcry ? 
 
 MEL. 
 
 Twas the sudden parting 
 
 Of the dark clouds; through which, all beauteously, 
 Shone the bright stars that Thebans love the best, 
 The Orionides. 
 
 ARCH. 
 What were they ? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Two virgins 
 
 Of the old ages, good my prince, the daughters 
 Of our great Titan ancestor, Orion, 
 
PELOPIDAS 231 
 
 Who, when a pestilence afflicted Thebes, 
 
 And naught but such high sacrifice could stay it, 
 
 Gave up their lives to save their countrymen. 
 
 For this brave act of piety, the gods 
 
 Set them in heaven, star-throned; where now they 
 
 shine, 
 Orbs of our Theban destinies. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 It is 
 
 Another omen then! and the curs dream 
 They see the genius of their freedom shining ! 
 This were rare food for Philip; who is, already, 
 By signs and portents, set beside himself. 
 (Enter PHILIP.) 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Break up the feast! give o er these follies, Archias; 
 Danger s afoot. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Said I not so ! A plot 
 
 Hatched in the skies, by th stars ? Why this, already, 
 We have discovered. Fy, man! Sit you down, 
 Enjoy the feast, and think no more of portents. 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Tis not of portents, Archias, that I speak. 
 Strangers are in the city ! 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Well! and when 
 Are strangers not? Shall such things terrify thee? 
 
232 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 They came by night, and through a gate unguarded 
 Is not that worth inquiry ? 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Well, to-morrow 
 
 It shall be look d to. And, that the gates may be 
 No longer left unguarded, we will place 
 A trustier captain o er the watch. Thou, Melon, 
 (For thus we show our love for thy good kinsman,) 
 Art now our officer. 
 (He gives a sword to MELON, who kneels to receive it.) 
 
 Punish those knaves 
 
 That have their posts deserted, and their places 
 Supply with better men. 
 
 MEL. 
 
 I am for ever 
 Your highness slave! 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 But, Archias, these men 
 Already entered? 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Would thou couldst sip a little 
 Of hellebore, to lull thy fearful spirit, 
 Ever in tumult ! Wilt thou mar the feast ? 
 Poison our joys? recall us back to toil, 
 To the dry drudgery of magistracy ? 
 Because, forsooth, strangers are in the city! 
 Merchants, perhaps, that travel with their wares; 
 Or trafficking boors that come betimes to market ; 
 Or thieves, slipped in to rob the citizens. 
 
PELOPIDAS 233 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Such are. not these. A curious fellow saw them 
 Received in Charon s house. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 I see, thou hast sworn 
 
 To drive me from peace! In Charon s house? 
 What think st thou, Philidas? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Think! / think, my prince? 
 No evil, I hope! Methinks, no dangerous persons 
 Durst visit Charon. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Why, so think I ! But let him 
 Be sent for, to explain their character, 
 If Philip will have it so! Or rather, Philip, 
 Give this night up to pleasure; and let business 
 Wait for the morrow. 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 It shall be looked to now ! 
 What if these men should prove conspirators? 
 You ll thank me for my terrors. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 (Aside.) Frowning Fates! 
 Avert your visages from Thebes; or turn them 
 Upon her tyrants only ! 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Philidas 
 In faith, thou look st as much disturbed as Philip ! 
 
234 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Alas, my prince! my fear is for your pleasures, 
 Thus broken in upon by things of naught. 
 I do not think these men worth apprehension. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Nor I, good sooth. But seest thou, Philidas? 
 This is a circumstance of which thy wit 
 May make a weapon gainst an enemy. 
 Stranger by Charon harboured ! Dost thou mark ? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 It shall not be forgotten. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Why, then, again 
 
 We ll turn to pleasure. Let the tempest rage, 
 Let omens thicken, and your Theban stars 
 Pierce through the rack : confiding in that planet 
 Which rules our own high, happy destinies 
 From this hour forth, we ll think of naught but 
 
 pleasure. 
 
 (He takes his place at the table; the music and dance are 
 resumed; and the scene closes.} 
 
 SCENE III. A room in the house of PELOPIDAS. 
 (Enter LEONTIDAS, leading HYLAS, and followed by a 
 Slave.} 
 
 LEON. 
 
 The banquet waits me? It is naught, without 
 Sibylla s presence! But this beating storm, 
 Grows it still on? will it not end to-night? 
 
PELOPIDAS 235 
 
 SLAVE 
 
 I heard a man, who seemed a soothsayer, 
 Say to a crowd, that stopped him in the street, 
 The storm that lowered o er Thebes would end at 
 midnight. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 The frantic runagates ! they have all day vexed 
 The town with auguries, and dreadful hints 
 Of blood and tumult. But enough of this. 
 How fares old Hippoclus ? 
 
 SLAVE 
 
 Not well content 
 
 With his hard chains and dreary cell. Good master, 
 Methinks his gray hairs might be spared these hard 
 ships ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 What, sirrah! 
 
 Grow st thou soft-hearted ? In those iron bonds, 
 And that dark prison, he remains a hostage, 
 Until Pelopidas be cared for. Wherefore 
 Look to him well, and think no more of pity. 
 
 (He waves the slave to retire. Exit Slave.) 
 Now, my young soldier, wilt thou go with me? 
 Thou shalt see rare, brave sights; fine dancers, 
 
 singers 
 
 That shall, with pretty ballads, sing thee asleep, 
 And princes, too princes with golden crowns, 
 And purple vests, great princes, such as thou 
 Shalt be, when thou rt a man. 
 
236 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Are they as great 
 As my great father? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Greater. 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Did they win, then, 
 
 Their wounds at Mantinea? Or have they ever 
 Been brought off from the field upon their shields ? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Never. 
 
 HYL. 
 
 How are they great then? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 By being masters 
 Of your father s country. 
 
 HYL. 
 
 But my mother told me, 
 They did not win it fairly, in the fight, 
 As great men do. And, oh! she told me, too, 
 They ne er had had it, but that a false traitor, 
 A scurvy wicked Theban, for the love 
 Of gold, betrayed it to them. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 By black Pluto, 
 She has the bitterest tongue! Hark ye, rogue, said 
 
 she 
 This Theban, this scurvy, wicked fellow, was I? 
 
PELOPIDAS 237 
 
 HYL. 
 
 No: but she said, he was the only Theban 
 Among the Polemarchs, the others being 
 Perfidious Spartans. I would I were a man, 
 To swinge him ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Sirrah? 
 
 HYL. 
 
 I d do it, and soundly, too. 
 Betray his own land unto foreigners! 
 Now I ll tell you what I think: My mother told me 
 Of a bad man, Prometheus; who, for stealing 
 The sun s light out of heaven, was chained on rocks, 
 With hungry vultures tearing out his heart, 
 For thirty long, long years. Well ! such a man 
 As sold his country, I would have him tied, 
 With thirty thousand vultures round about him, 
 Tearing his heart forever and forever. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Thou fry of venom ! 
 
 HYL. 
 
 What! you are not angry? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Hark ye, ye goose, your mother told ye that? 
 
 HYL. 
 
 And if she did, she learned it of my father. 
 
238 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Come, you re a brave bird Will you go with me ? 
 
 HYL. 
 
 I ll ask my mother. 
 
 LEON. 
 Pho think of the music ! 
 
 HYL. 
 
 I ll ask her. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 And the pictures ! 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Oh! I hope 
 She ll let me go. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 The soldiers ! 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Soldiers? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Come. 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Soldiers with swords, and shields, and spears, and 
 
 horses? 
 Oh, Jupiter! I ll go. 
 
 (Enter SIBYLLA.) 
 
PELOPIDAS 239 
 
 SIB. 
 
 What, sirrah! where will you go? 
 This is not well, Leontidas, thus tempting 
 My child with baubles, to seduce him from me. 
 Come, malapert; to your bed. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Alas, Sibylla, 
 
 Wilt thou let nothing love me that loves thee ? 
 I did but tempt him to the festival ; 
 Where I would tempt yourself. Relent, fair lady: 
 Unbend ; throw by this frigid modesty ; 
 And let me bid thee thither ; where thy beauty 
 Shall bravelier shine than in this solitude. 
 Thou shalt, among the roses, wherewithal 
 We canopy our princes, sit the highest : 
 The proudest dames of Thebes shall do thee homage, 
 And hail thee noblest, as they own thee fairest. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 This is to bid me sit among them, lord, 
 Highest in shame ! I thank thee ; but I am 
 A prisoner here. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 No prisoner, fair lady. 
 Now, by my life, thou shalt be free as air. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Ay, to go to the banquet! But where else? 
 
 LEON. 
 Where er thou wilt. 
 
240 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Pelopidas 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Why then, to Athens! to 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Pho! thou jeer st me. Think no more 
 Of the fall n traitor; whom to mention stirs me 
 To rage. By heaven, I hate thee, whensoe er 
 Thou mind st me thou art wife of him I hate. 
 His wife ? His wife no more ! I do divorce thee ! 
 (Have I not power that am a prince of Thebes ?) 
 Divorce thee from him, free thee from thy vows, 
 To wed thee to myself. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 His wife till death! 
 Naught else divorces me. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Well, death shall do it. 
 Thou speak st his doom; and the next news from 
 
 Athens 
 Shall bring thee word thou art a wife no longer. (Exit.} 
 
 HYL. 
 
 What said he, mother? 
 
 Shall my great father be his prisoner? 
 
 SIB. 
 
 His prisoner? No! If that their treacherous arts 
 Can reach to Athens, they may murder him. 
 The gods protect him ever ! 
 
 (Enter PELOPIDAS, as before.) 
 
PELOPIDAS 241 
 
 SIB. 
 
 What art thou? 
 My women there, what ho! 
 
 The curs upon me ? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Peace ! will you bring 
 
 HYL. 
 
 You shan t hurt my mother! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Well said, my Hector! Now, by Mars, you stand 
 Staring as at a Gorgon ! 
 
 HYL. 
 
 Tis my father! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Husband ! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Stay, let me look thee in the face ! 
 There s no dishonour there! by heaven, I read 
 Naught, in thy visage, but my wife! my wife, 
 True, fond, and honourable ! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Oh, Pelopidas, 
 Do I not dream now, in this rapture? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Jove ! 
 
 How the young fledgeling ruffled ! Why, thou chick, 
 Thou shalt be spurred and sworded, ay, and mounted , 
 For a young war ! 
 
 16 
 
242 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Pelopidas ! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Marry, how now? 
 Does my rough casing scare ye ? 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Fly, I pray you, 
 Out of this house. The Polemarch 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I know it : 
 
 Leontidas is master here; and I, 
 The sometime lord, have, like a prowling thief, 
 Into his dwelling stolen. But, I pr ythee, 
 Tell me, how bears he? Does he Curses on him! 
 He dares I ll tear him piecemeal! he has dared 
 To speak (the slave !) his fulsome passion to you ? 
 By Hercules! But I scold. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Oh, my loved husband, 
 
 Why art thou not content to be known brave, 
 But must be rash, too? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Why? Because, when nature 
 Like to a cunning statuary, cast me 
 I th mould of manhood, she forgot to make me 
 Of marble! Why, thou hectoring rogue! My heart 
 
 here 
 Engendered vipers; and whene er I thought 
 
PELOPIDAS 243 
 
 Of thee, and these curst tyrants, they roused up, 
 And stung me. What, thou knave ! I ll fling thee up, 
 Till thou art lodged among the stars! Sibylla, 
 Look at him ! By my faith, I think, in a year, 
 I ll clap a helm upon his head, and send him 
 To battle. 
 
 SIB. 
 Teach him to be wise, Pelopidas. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Wise ! Now, by Jupiter, you do remind me 
 Of weightier matters than mere fooling. Tell me, 
 How fares my father ? 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Well: but 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Say no further: 
 
 I ll ask thee on the morrow. But this business: 
 Where is Leontidas? 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Gone forth but now, 
 I think, to the banquet of the Secretary. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Good ! Let them gather ! Did he anger thee ? 
 
 I know it ! he call d thee goddess, and such knavery ! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 And ere he went, with insolent sueing, bade me 
 To the feast with him. 
 
244 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Caitiff! But I better 
 
 Think on it He shall have his wish : you shall 
 To the feast. 
 
 SIB. 
 My lord? 
 
 As I will. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 To tread upon his neck ! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 What do you mean? What will you do? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Kill him! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Kill him! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Are you astonished? Fy! I have heard you boast, 
 A Theban dame could bear as high a heart 
 As ever a Spartan; and, by Jupiter, 
 I thought so too. I held you strong of soul, 
 Not apt to shake, like an Arcadian girl, 
 And show a face of chalk at words of blood : 
 And therefore did I tell you I would kill him, 
 Him and his colleagues, the tyrant-tools of Sparta, 
 The morrow s sun shall see them trampled clods, 
 Corses cast out to feed Boeotian ravens. 
 
PELOPIDAS 245 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Heaven help thee, then: and, for my sake, take care 
 Of thy rich life. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Thou mean st, the lives of those 
 
 That are leagued with me ! But thou see st my folly: 
 It had been better could I have forgot thee. 
 Well, I will steal out, like a thief, again. 
 Farewell, farewell Hist ! 
 
 LEONTIDAS (Within.) 
 
 Close the gates. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 O heaven! 
 It is Leontidas ! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Begone, you rogue! 
 Hence, to your bed, and sleep. 
 
 (Exit HYLAS.) 
 And I am here 
 
 Without a weapon! Contradict me, wife; 
 In whatsoe er I speak, do thou gainsay me: 
 Do this, (I ll play the faithless emissary:) 
 Do it, and save your country, do it bravely! 
 (Enter LEONTIDAS, with Guards.) 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Where is this skulking hind ? this prowling thief, 
 That steals i the house of princes? 
 
246 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Oh, my prince, pardon! 
 I (Bid him hang me!) am no thief. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Save hang him ! 
 A thief and robber ! 
 (The Guards seize upon PELOPIDAS.) 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Out, alas, for pity! 
 Pardon me, mighty prince; I will confess! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Confess what, fellow? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Oh, my great lord, treason, 
 A foul conspiracy ! 
 
 SIB. 
 Do not believe him. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 What treason ? Speak, confess ! or in a mortar 
 I ll have thee brayed alive. (The Guards here release 
 PELOPIDAS.) 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 It shall not need : 
 
 Most merciful prince, I will confess it all. 
 Being a poor abject boor, this matron s husband 
 
PELOPIDAS 247 
 
 SIB. 
 Most false! Believe him not. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Pelopidas 
 
 SIB. 
 
 False ! false ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 What, knave? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Did bribe me 
 
 LEON. 
 
 What to do? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 To carry, alack! a most vile, traitorous message 
 To his wife here. 
 
 SIB. 
 Tis false! 
 
 And gold, too. 
 
 LEON. 
 Thou shalt have pardon. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Gold, my prince? Pelopidas 
 Did only promise silver. 
 
248 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Speak, what was t? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Tell her, ( twas thus he spake,) ere many days, 
 P II free her from her durance; and therefore bid her 
 Be wise, be confident, be bold, fear nothing. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Is this thy treason? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I fear to speak the worst : 
 Tell her, I come (but when, he said not,) with 
 An army of Athenians, that shall end 
 The Theban Tyranny. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Hah! Athenians? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I am sorry I did listen to the traitor. 
 
 But being a starving man, (alas! you know not 
 
 How penury drives the wretched to misdeeds !) 
 
 He bribed me thus to be his messenger. 
 
 Now, if your greatness will but pardon me, 
 
 I ll 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Do not listen to him; he deceives you. 
 
PELOPIDAS 249 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Fair dame, forgive me Tis most manifest, 
 
 A shallow plot. And you will still prefer 
 
 This desperate fugitive, this schoolboy schemer, 
 
 That can no plot frame, but must take his wife 
 
 And servant to his counsels, him prefer 
 
 To th rival that his projects laugh to scorn, 
 
 And, with a turn o th ringer, counteracts them! 
 
 Fellow, if I forgive thee, and employ thee, 
 
 At such high wages, (See! tis gold; enough 
 
 To make thee rich !) canst thou be true and honest ? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 True as my dog, and honester ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Then shalt thou 
 Away to Athens. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Blithely! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 And assure 
 
 Pelopidas, as from his wife, (you hear now?) 
 His friends in Thebes have raised a numerous party. 
 
 PELOP. 
 Is t true though? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Who await his coming, 
 To strike for freedom. Canst thou swear him this? 
 
250 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Deeply; and call the gods to witness it. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Here s gold for thee. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 O Jupiter ! gold ! gold ! 
 I will away to horse right instantly. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Stay : tis a bitter night : the storm will freeze thee. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I am too rich to fear t. To-night, my prince! 
 I ll be in Athens at the sunrise. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Nay; 
 
 At sunrise thou shalt go. To-night I ll lodge thee, 
 And lodge thee well too, under mine own roof. 
 
 PELOP. (Aside.) 
 Infernal gods ! 
 
 LEON. 
 What ails thee? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I did leave 
 
 In Athens, an old mother, that, but for me, 
 Must perish, miserably perish. Alas! 
 For pity now, I pray your excellent highness, 
 Bid me set forth to-night. 
 
PELOPIDAS 251 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Guards, take this fellow; 
 (The Guards seize PELOPIDAS again.) 
 Lodge him with the dotard: if he struggle, chain him. 
 Knave! I suspect thee; and, methinks, thy visage 
 I have seen before? What, sirrah? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Oh, ye gods! 
 Have ye no pity, and no piety? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Take him away. Thou fool, that thought st, with wit 
 So poor and shallow, to deceive a prince ! 
 At sunrise, in the court, thy naked body 
 Shall be the target of an hundred archers. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 My lord ! my 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Woman ! Well, you ll find me honest, 
 Though you suspect me. Is the lady frighted? 
 But my poor mother, whom I did desert, 
 How she will curse me ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Hence with him ; confine him. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 (Apart to SIBYLLA, as he passes her.) 
 Fetch me a dagger ! 
 
 (Exit, gaurded.) 
 
252 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Now, how poorly looks 
 
 The man thou lov st, thus baffled, and exposed 
 In all his arts and weakness ! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Pardon, prince, 
 
 For his poor messenger! (Aside.) Alas! that I 
 Could better dissemble! Spare his life, I pray you: 
 He is too mean and poor for your revenge. 
 Pity him and discharge him. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 What ! again 
 
 To aid my foe against me ? I did purpose 
 To slay the caitiff. But, if you will ransom 
 So base a knave, or any hundred such, 
 Grant me my boon, and you shall have your will 
 Come to the banquet ! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Not to save a thousand, 
 Though each one were Pelopidas ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 He dies then. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Then let him die ! Were it Pelopidas s self, 
 Thus would himself command me : Death, with honour, 
 Though on the block; not life, with infamy! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 END OF ACT III. 
 
ACT IV 
 
 SCENE I. A room in CHARON S house. (Enter 
 CHARON, with MELON, who is in armour, LAON, 
 DAMOCLIDES, and the other Exiles.) 
 
 LAON 
 
 Inform us truly was he with thine uncle ? 
 Or has he been ? or knows thine uncle of him ? 
 
 MEL. 
 
 By Jove, I cannot say, nor could I learn: 
 I could not come to speech with Philidas. 
 For know, thou trembling 
 
 LAON 
 
 Trembling? I can die 
 As boldly as my betters. But to be thus 
 Lopped of our head and right arm, in our leader, 
 Is bat exordium to our general ruin. 
 
 DAM. 
 
 It wants an hour to midnight. 
 
 LAON 
 
 And ere then 
 We are bought and sold. 
 
 253 
 
254 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 How, Laon! 
 
 Can ye not see it? 
 
 LAON 
 
 Are ye stones? 
 
 DAM. 
 
 What? 
 
 LAON 
 
 We have been decoyed 
 Into a net here, by this prating Vulcan; 
 Who hath toiled us, like his crafty prototype, 
 In our own loves, our country being our mistress. 
 
 \ 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 These are dark words. 
 
 DAM. 
 And slanderous! 
 
 LAON 
 
 How comes it, 
 
 He has parted from us, in our hour of peril? 
 We were wise, my masters ! to intrust our lives 
 In the frail keeping of a man whose fate, 
 Up to this hour, so checkered and disastrous, 
 Clambers to instant grandeur on our ruin. 
 
 CHAR. 
 He ll not betray us? 
 
PELOPIDAS 255 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Not until the gods 
 Confound all good, and make the best the basest. 
 
 LAON 
 
 What matters whether he be false or true ? 
 Folly may do the work of perfidy. 
 It is enough we are endangered by him. 
 And, on no groundless fear of his defection, 
 I counsel all, while still the road is open, 
 Retreat to Athens. 
 
 DAM. 
 
 And forever after, 
 
 While the world holds together, be recorded 
 Its pitifull st cravens! 
 
 MEL. 
 
 Right, right! Damoclides. 
 And, for the satisfaction of my friend here, 
 This man who trembles not, yet counsels trembling, 
 Know, you must stay, flight is impossible: 
 The gate you found un watched, is now well manned 
 By throngs of Spartan soldiers, for the which 
 Thank me. 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 You? 
 
 MEL. 
 
 And the Polemarchs, who have made me 
 Their Captain of the Guard, I thank their worships! 
 For, in the execution of mine office, 
 
256 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 (And to carve out an easier path for you,) 
 I from their sacred persons have withdrawn 
 Half of their myrmidons. 
 
 LAON 
 
 We are lost then ! 
 
 MEL. 
 
 Lost? 
 
 And still tis Laon says it ! Why did ye bring 
 This oracle among you ? Hark again ! 
 Long did I counsel with my wit, to find 
 What plausible circumstance would bear me out 
 In further diminution of the guard ; 
 When, lo, Leontidas, upon some fear, 
 (I know not what,) commands me to despatch 
 A party to his house; and I have done it. 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 This were most fortunate, were our leader with us. 
 
 MEL. 
 
 It is so still. Our leader s but a man; 
 A great and valiant one, in truth; but not 
 So necessary to our enterprise, 
 We needs must drop it, when his arm is wanting. 
 Hark ye: the guards (my knaves, that watch the 
 
 princes, ) 
 
 Shall have their cups, and each a drugged cup, too. 
 Get ye your swords; and, at the gloom of midnight, 
 Steal to mine uncle s house: you shall have entrance. 
 
 LAON 
 
 I like not this. 
 
 (A knocking is heard.) 
 
PELOPIDAS 257 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Peace ! 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Hark! 
 
 LAON 
 
 We are betrayed ! 
 
 MESSENGER (Within.) 
 F th name of the Polemarchs, I bid ye open. 
 
 LAON 
 
 Lost! lost! discovered! 
 
 MEL. 
 
 Peace, and get ye in. 
 
 This pigeon will ruin us. If you are known, 
 Knock em o th head, and raise the citizens. 
 They must not see me here. Get in, I say ; 
 And, if you must, fight, and fight bravely. 
 (Exit MELON. The others all retire, except CHARON, 
 who opens the door. Enter MESSENGER.) 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 What is the matter, that so noisily 
 You come into my dwelling? 
 
 MESS. 
 
 I am charged 
 
 To bid you, Charon, straight appear before 
 The Polemarchs. 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 And wherefore? 
 17 
 
258 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 MESS. 
 
 For the reason, 
 You will hear it from themselves. 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Presently, at the door, 
 
 I will attend you: I will but fetch my cloak, 
 And follow you. 
 
 (Exit MESSENGER.) 
 What ho, my son! Lycophron! 
 My cloak here! This disturbs me. Friends, come 
 
 forth! 
 (Re-enter DAMOCLIDES, LAON, and the other Exiles.) 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Are we discover d? 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 I know not. I am bidden 
 Before the tyrants. 
 
 LAON 
 
 By heaven, thou wilt betray us! 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Laon, for shame ! 
 
 (Enter the boy LYCOPHRON, with a cloak.) 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 I ll show thee how to punish 
 The deed of treachery thy fear imagines. 
 I have my son here look ! the only child 
 Of my life s autumn. Take him in your keeping: 
 And when you are certain (mark me, Laon, certain,) 
 I have betrayed you, kill him. 
 
PELOPIDAS 259 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Pardon us, 
 
 Or rather him, good Charon; since no other 
 Doubts your true faith and wisdom. 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Rest content then. 
 
 Set sentinels at the windows and the doors ; 
 And be no truer to yourselves than / am. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Laon, this peevish and suspicious spirit 
 Has wronged our friend. 
 
 LAON 
 Why have they sent for him ? 
 
 DAM. 
 
 If from suspicion, 
 
 LAON 
 
 If! We were all wise 
 
 To trust our necks so madly ! Do you not think, 
 The Polemarchs would surely raise to honour 
 That man of us who should the rest betray ? 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Unto base honour. Fear st thou such man among us? 
 
 LAON 
 
 I think that one should seek PelopidasI 
 
260 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Where? 
 
 LAON 
 
 Where my fears report him, with his wife. 
 Will you trust me, in this office? 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Trust you, Laon! 
 
 We are brothers in this enterprise; and each 
 Finds in his fellow but a second self. 
 I think, tis needless. 
 
 LAON 
 
 I will find you out 
 
 What base we stand on, which now shakes beneath us, 
 As if twould ope and swallow us. This doubt 
 Is worse than danger. I will hence, and fathom 
 The riddle of our leader s vanishing. 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Perhaps he is tempting forth the citizens, 
 
 T invest the citadel: and one imprudence 
 
 Might blast the coming fruit of all his labour. 
 
 What if yourself, by some mischance, should stumble 
 
 Upon an enemy ? 
 
 LAON 
 
 You do not fear me ? 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Fear you? Most surely no. 
 
PELOPIDAS 261 
 
 LAON 
 
 Then I ll attempt it. 
 And, if you doubt me, I will swear 
 
 DAM. 
 
 You have, 
 
 Already, your spirit pledged to the black Furies, 
 If you should fail us in one article 
 Of our most solemn covenant. Be but 
 Discreet in what you do; we ask no further. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE II. The banquetting-rooms in PHILIDAS S 
 house seen behind, with tables and guests; in front, an 
 Ante-room, into which Enter ARCHIAS and PHILIP, 
 attended by PHILIDAS. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Thou wert fitter for an augur than a prince, 
 A priest of melancholy Proserpine, 
 A servitor of the dim Trophonian cave, 
 Where all is night, and mystery, and horror. 
 How wretched he whom Fear thus dominates, 
 Scourging with every fancy ; who sees a spectre 
 In every shadow of the night, or hears it 
 Wailing on every wind. 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 More wretched he, 
 Buried in pleasure and security, 
 Who shuts his sense gainst every warning token, 
 Wherein the wise may read their destiny. 
 I tell thee, Archias, this drowsy ease 
 
262 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Suits not the time, when dangers lower around us. 
 The air is big with them, the city alive 
 With hints, and rumours, and whispering expectation, 
 That prates of mischief and conspiracy. 
 What if these knaves be exiles ? Are we ready 
 To meet their rancorous onset ? Are we safe 
 Even here, so fondly sitting at the feast ? 
 Our new-made officer, upon some whim, 
 Has half, nay, more than half, the guard with 
 drawn. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Please you, my prince, twas done upon no whim. 
 My lord so willed it, and I did advise it. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 In faith, twas done to please thyself. I sent them 
 To guard the gates. And hereby, if an exile 
 (As you will have it so,) have crept upon us, 
 We have him safe. 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 And then, another party 
 Leontidas hath sent for to his house. 
 Is there no fear in that ? Leontidas 
 Was ever shrewd and wary. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Let him fear, 
 
 And all that will : these bugbears fright not us, 
 Nor shall they scowl down our festivities. 
 Come these Bacchantes yet ? In sooth, my brother, 
 They ll toy these horrible fancies from thy brain. 
 (Enter the Messenger and CHARON: Reformer retires.) 
 
PELOPIDAS 263 
 
 And here, to chase the frightfullest away 
 Comes our good, honest, faithful Charon. 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Charon! 
 
 How haps it, that suspicious men are seen 
 Received into your dwelling? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Do you hear? 
 
 High highness asks you, wherefore do you harbour 
 Strangers ; whom, as we fear 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Peace; let him answer. 
 Upon my life, he changes countenance ! 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Alas ! I hope there was naught evil in them ! 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Tis true, then? Why, there may be evil enough. 
 Who and what are they? 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 May it please my prince, 
 
 Poor hinds returned from hunting ; who besought me 
 To buy their fortune of the day, a boar 
 And hart o th mountains. 
 
 ARCH. (To PHILIP.) 
 
 Never tell me more 
 Of your redoubted strangers ! 
 
264 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Their wild quarries 
 
 I satisfied them for, and so discharged them : 
 Mere boors, my prince. 
 
 ARCH. (To PHILIDAS.) 
 
 Of the same batch, I doubt me, 
 As our rough captive ? 
 
 CHAR. (Apart to PHIL.) 
 Captive ? 
 
 PHIL. (Apart to CHAR.) 
 
 Peace! So let 
 
 The good gods lull them to security. 
 Are you ready? Speak not! At the midnight come. 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 If still my lords suspect these men of evil, 
 I ll have them sought for, and examined. 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Do so: 
 
 There may be more in them than meets the eye : 
 Let them be found. But, stay Leontidas! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 (Enter LEONTIDAS.) 
 Feast on, feast on; I have good mirth for you! 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Why, that is better far than hints and riddles, 
 And words of peril, that disturb our revels. 
 
PELOPIDAS 265 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Yet there, is peril in t, though peril over. 
 
 I have now in my hands a dangerous fellow, 
 
 A boor, a huntsman 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Now, by Hercules! 
 Is the world filled with huntsmen ? 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Treason! treason! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Why, what s the matter, that the word disturbs you? 
 A boor, a huntsman 
 
 What more, indeed? 
 
 PHIL. 
 Ay ! a boor, a huntsman ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 A secret emissary 
 
 O th plotting exiles, whom I found conferring 
 With the wife of Pelopidas. 
 
 PHIL. (Aside.) 
 
 Oh, miserable! 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 A figure tall and sinewy ? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Ay! 
 
266 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 A cunning 
 And prating villain ? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 What ! have you seen him ? 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Hark ye, 
 Philidas, man! has he escaped you? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Hah! 
 
 Why this is rare ! What ! a base peasant stalk, 
 From house to house, among the Polemarchs ! 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Is he secured? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 As closely as stone walls, 
 Bolts, and armed guards, can bind him. 
 
 PHIL. (Aside.} 
 
 Rash and wretched! 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Now can I breathe again, and speak my thought. 
 This man, whom, like a phantom, first I saw 
 Under the shadowy arch of his own portal 
 
 LEON. 
 
 What say st thou? hah! 
 
PELOPIDAS 267 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 By all the deities, 
 
 When, in the gloom, I saw him, (better noting 
 His angry brow than coarse attire,) I thought him 
 The spectre of a dead Pelopidas ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 What ho! more guards! give me more guards! I, too, 
 Saw somewhat in his face that woke me up 
 Strange recollections. And the anxious fears 
 Of his wife too! By Pluto, it is he! 
 And in our power ! 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Thou canst not think it he? 
 Hot as he is, this were too mad a feat; 
 And ye are mad to think it. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Give me guards ! 
 
 I ll prove it soon. Philidas! Secretary! 
 Send me an officer to the citadel; 
 Bring me an hundred men: I ll have no fewer 
 To stand in watch upon the prisoner. 
 Send for them straight. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Where went those huntsmen, Charon ? 
 They must be found: I do distrust them still. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Must thou still rave ? Do traitors bring such traffic, 
 Wild-boars and mountain-harts? 
 
268 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 I ll ne er be satisfied, 
 Till I have found them. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Now these lunatics 
 
 Are gone, we shall have peace again. But, Philidas, 
 How came this man with you ? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Upon pretext 
 
 Of seeking service A poor mountaineer, 
 As I must needs still think him: perhaps a spy, 
 Sent by the enemy; but, sure, no exile, 
 Nor man of name or note. For his escape, 
 I do confess, but lightly fearing him, 
 I guarded him but lightly. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Well, at least, 
 
 He is safe again. If there be evil in him, 
 We soon shall know it. And, therefore, we ll forget 
 The rude mishaps, that have our joys disturbed; 
 And once more to the broken feast again. 
 
 (He retires into the banquetting-room.) 
 
 PHIL. (Apart to CHARON.) 
 
 No words! 
 
 His madness has undone us. We must strike 
 Instantly now, or die. Get cloaks and garlands, 
 To pass the guards We may be yet successful. 
 (Exit, CHARON; PHILIDAS retires into the banquetting- 
 room, and the scene closes.) 
 
PELOPIDAS 269 
 
 SCENE III. A strong room in PELOPIDAS S house. 
 (Enter from a vault, PELOPIDAS, leading HIPPOCLUS, the 
 latter in chains.) 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Gently; take heed of this same broken step. 
 The air is freer here. What ! did they keep thee 
 In that damp vault, an old man such as thou? 
 And chained too? 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 Good young man, who art thou, 
 That speak st such kindness to old Hippoclus? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I ? who am I? These hardships But no matter. 
 I am a prisoner, like yourself; and, looking 
 For ways of flight, I drew the bolt which led me 
 Into your dungeon. 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 Then you are a foeman 
 O th Polemarchs? a Theban patriot. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Ay.- 
 Do you not know me? Look! here, in the light! 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 Alas, mine eyes are sightless. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Hah! 
 
270 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 Imprisonment 
 I* th sickly cell, and failing age, and sorrow 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Gods ! and he still did chain you ? O my father ! 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 Methinks thy voice is like my son s: but he 
 Yes! he was banished by the Polemarchs. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Father ! my father ! will you not now know me ? 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 Art thou Pelopidas, and a prisoner? 
 Thy tones are his: but the first vow I taught him, 
 (Bravely he swore it, too,) was ne er to yield him, 
 To die i th field, ne er live a prisoner! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I swore t, and I have broke it. But they took me 
 Unarmed. 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 Away, false slave! thou art not he. 
 Pelopidas among his foes unarmed ! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Father! 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 Unarmed? Thou slander st him. My son 
 Sleeps with a sharpened dagger in his hand, 
 
PELOPIDAS 271 
 
 Eats with it in the dish, and, at the altar, 
 Prays with it in his bosom, and so will do, 
 Long as a tyrant lives in Thebes. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 You wring 
 My heart! 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 If thou beest, then, Pelopidas, how art thou 
 In Thebes a prisoner ? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I came to free it. 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 And art a captive? Go! Pelopidas 
 
 Was not more valiant-souled than he was wise. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Still am I he; and can such proofs discover 
 
 As will your doubtings change to curses. I 
 
 Am he, whom, foolishly, my fellow patriots 
 
 (The only Thebans left to strike for Thebes,) 
 
 Chose for their leader. And this post of honour, 
 
 Diademed round with glory, like a boy, 
 
 An idiot rustic, I have thrown away. 
 
 Nor that alone : I have destroyed my friends, 
 
 And slain my country: they, upon the block, 
 
 Whither myself have dragged them, bleed; and Thebes 
 
 Robbed of her sons, remains a slave forever! 
 
 HIPP. 
 Art thou Pelopidas, and hast done this? 
 
272 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Curst be the tongue, that, with foul slander, stung me 
 Into the madness that has done the wrong ! 
 Or curst the weakness of my own vile nature, 
 Which thus could list to folly! For my wife, 
 I have sold my country ! 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 May the gods forgive you. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 They will not, cannot : when did Heaven e er pardon 
 The slayer of his country ? a traitor, whether 
 The act be done in malice or in folly. 
 Hark! twas a step! Alas! no step, no hope! 
 Time flies flies fast; and I am still a captive. 
 Until this hour, I hoped some chance to free me ; 
 When I had well redeemed my forfeit honour. 
 But it is midnight, midnight that should have seen me 
 Hurling the tyrants from their thrones 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 Hark! hark! 
 My jailer. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Ha, ha ! the gods be thanked ! 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 What mean st thou? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I ll slay him, snatch his weapons, and so cut 
 My way to freedom ! Stand aside, and fear not. 
 (Enter SIBYLLA.) 
 
PELOPIDAS 273 
 
 By heaven, Sibylla! Didst thou bring the dagger? 
 Quick! give it me Why doest thou shake thus? 
 
 Father! 
 I will retrieve mine honour. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Stay! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 This weapon 
 Makes me a god! ha, ha! How got ye in? 
 
 SIB. 
 I bribed the sentinel. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Is there but one? 
 
 SIB. 
 
 But one man at the door; around the house, 
 
 An hundred: you may see them from the window. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 It matters not. Armed as I am in spirit 
 To wipe dishonour from my front, to save 
 My friends, to give my country liberty, 
 An army should not stop me. Father, I ll win 
 Your blessing ! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Oh, my husband ! my dear husband ! 
 You will not out, against these odds? 
 it 
 
274 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Ay, truly, 
 I will ! Farewell I cannot talk with thee. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Thou wilt be slain! 
 
 PELOP. 
 Fighting, not caged! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 O heaven ! 
 Stay with me. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Peace! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 You are safe here. Wait until 
 The guards are drawn off. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Look to my father there. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Leontidas 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Hah! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 My women overheard him 
 Plotting to bear me to the citadel. 
 
PELOPIDAS 275 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Why dost thou prate thus ? Lo ! this steel is sharp ! 
 I ll be with thee anon. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Well, heaven be with thee : 
 I will not stay thee. Go forth to the battle; 
 And if thou diest, die victorious. 
 
 Come back the conqueror, and thy country s saviour; 
 Or, like a hero, stretched upon thy shield, 
 Dead, yet unvanquished ; and with joy I ll meet thee, 
 As though thou earnest a bridegroom to my arms ; 
 Kiss thy cold lips, and think them lips of love; 
 Wipe thy red wounds, and call them nuptial jewels; 
 And strow thine honoured corse with flowers and 
 
 wreaths 
 
 Rich as e er decked a living conqueror 
 With flowers, not tears! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 There spoke my noble wife! 
 My Theban wife! Talk thus; and I will fight 
 Till Sparta buckles! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 I ll wrap my cloak about thee: 
 (PELOPIDAS throws off his cloak of skins, and puts on 
 SIBYLLA S mantle.) 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Perhaps, thus, thou may st pass the sentinel, 
 And reach the doors in safety. Then and then 
 Oh gods! 
 
276 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 And then, Sibylla, 
 
 Like dogs I ll scatter them! And so I bid you 
 Be not alarmed; fear naught What, father! 
 Will you not know me now? 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 Go forth and prosper. 
 Thou art still my valiant son. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Remain with him. 
 Be of good heart, and rear my boy to honour. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 What, is he gone? The great gods go with him! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Hist! If the guard should stop him? Hark! My 
 father! 
 
 He will be slain! 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 Fear not. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Hark! hark! I hear 
 
 The clash of armour! From this window, I 
 May see him perish ! 
 
 (She looks from the window) 
 
 Oh ! ye pitying gods, 
 
 He is at the door ! They rush upon him ! See ! 
 They strike him! Help him, Jupiter, with thunder! 
 Ah ! heaven ! 
 
PELOPIDAS 277 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 What see st thou? 
 
 SIB. 
 
 No ! it was a Spartan, 
 Struck to his feet! Now! now! Pelopidas! 
 Strike! strike again, and fly! Ha, ha! by heaven, 
 He is clear ! Fly swiftly ! swiftly ! He is safe ! 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 Daughter ? 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Safe! safe! he has fled; the darkness 
 hides him ! 
 
 Safe ! he is safe, my father ! the good gods 
 Have shielded him We are not yet deserted ! 
 (She kneels; HIPPOCLUS extends his hands, as in prayer; 
 and the curtain falls upon the tableau.) 
 
 END OF ACT IV. 
 
ACT V 
 
 SCENE I. A room in CHARON S house. (Enter 
 DAMOCLIDES and other Exiles.} 
 
 DAMOCLIDES 
 
 Nor Laon nor Charon yet returned ; Pelopidas 
 
 Vanished away, unheard of; Melon absent; 
 
 Ourselves walled round with shadows none can pierce, 
 
 And dangers, too: yet let not this disturb us. 
 
 Let no man s spirit fail. If we must fall, 
 
 Yet we fall nobly ; and hereafter, Thebes, 
 
 By others freed, shall hold our memories dear, 
 
 As her true sons and martyrs. But I hope 
 
 A better fortune yet. Pelopidas, 
 
 Though ta en, and on the rack, could ne er betray us; 
 
 And Charon s faith is sure as any s. More 
 
 I fear from Laon. Yet I would not wrong him. 
 
 Pelopidas ever held him in regard. 
 
 (Enter CHARON.) 
 
 DAM. 
 
 What, Charon ! safe and unsuspected are we ? 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Not safe, not unsuspected. Danger, growing, 
 With every beat o th pulse, more imminent, 
 Lowers around you. But you yet may save 
 
 278 
 
PELOPIDAS 279 
 
 Yourselves, and Thebes too. Arm: and quickly, here, 
 Put on these women s cloaks and coronals : 
 And then to the tyrants. 
 
 DAM. 
 
 But our chief? Pelopidas? 
 Have you no words of him ? 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Alas, too many ! 
 
 Think not of him; or, if you do, forgive him. 
 His rashness has undone him ; and he is now 
 I th hands o th Polemarchs. 
 
 Ruined by rashness? 
 
 In his own house. 
 
 DAM. 
 
 A prisoner! 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Ay: a prisoner 
 
 DAM. 
 
 We did mistake him then ; 
 Whom (on success of this our enterprise,) 
 We had hailed gladly supreme Bceotarch, 
 Chief of all Thebes. What can we do without him? 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Die, (if we must hope nothing,) die like freemen, 
 With arms in hand ; not tamely wait to perish 
 Upon the headsman s block. 
 
280 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Why, let us on, then, 
 For death or victory, for Pelopidas, 
 The loved of Thebes : we may, perhaps, yet save 
 His life, though never his honour Hah ! 
 (Enter PELOPIDAS, bloody.) 
 
 ALL 
 
 Pelopidas ! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Ha, ha! mine honour? thou liest, my Damoclides! 
 Ha, ha ! mine honour ? ne er save mine honour ? Look ! 
 Here is my weapon ; there is blood upon it ! 
 The first libation Tis a Spartan s! 
 
 DAM. 
 
 What! 
 Is it a Polemarch s? 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 With this little weapon, 
 
 Cut I my way through twice an hundred men. 
 Never mine honour? What, ha, ha! By Jove! 
 I am with you, and will lead you where you will, 
 With honour! Are you ready? Oh, Damoclides, 
 Can you forgive me ? 
 
 You are still Pelopidas. 
 
 DAM. 
 
 Speak of it no more: 
 
PELOPIDAS 281 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 I ll ne er again 
 
 Find fault with him that s human; or look to have 
 My friend a demigod! I have deceived you, 
 Wronged you, almost betrayed you. Am I not 
 
 punished 
 
 In the deep torments that afflict me ? Charon, 
 I left my father, blind and chained, exposed 
 In a dungeon to the fury of his keepers : 
 My wife, too, (have I not repaired my fault ?) 
 I left her to Leontidas ! though nature 
 Tugged at my heart, and filled it with distraction, 
 I left her! Come, I am ready: give me a sword. 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 A cloak, too, and a garland. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Ay, a garland. 
 
 Myrtle leaves now, and laurel-crowns hereafter ! 
 This cloak will serve me : twas put on my shoulders 
 By the most noble wife of all the earth; 
 And was the shield, wrapped round my arm, wherewith 
 I stopped th assaults of all the myrmidons. 
 Jove! but I had a time on t! And they chased me, 
 Like a hurt wolf, launching their darts and arrows, 
 As twere another tempest, through the street. 
 A wolf I fled; and, like a wolf, I bore 
 Their blood upon my fangs. Hah! are you ready? 
 I prattle like a girl! All mantled? Follow: 
 And he that strikes more deeply than myself, 
 Him, though a slave he were, I ll make my master! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
282 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SCENE II. The Street. (Enter, on the one side, 
 PHILIP, with Guards bearing torches; and with them 
 LAON; on the other side, LEONTIDAS, also with Guards 
 and lights. Shouts heard afar of.) 
 
 LEON. 
 What ho! Who are ye? Stand! 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Leontidas ? 
 
 Brother, well met ! 
 
 
 
 LEON. 
 
 What mean these riotous cries ? 
 Is it sedition? By heaven, I took ye for 
 A band of rebels that would block my way ! 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 It is sedition. The town is all aflame. 
 The rumour of Pelopidas in the city 
 Has set all mad; and, Down, they cry aloud, 
 Down with the tyrants! Hence to the Citadel, 
 If you would live. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Why, let them roar their fill. 
 Without a leader 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Think not that. They have 
 Leaders enow, ten banished men, from Athens. 
 Look you, I have one here that hath surrendered, 
 And all their scheme betrayed. Speak, slave; or ne er 
 Expect thy life and pardon. 
 
PELOPIDAS 283 
 
 LAON 
 
 I will win them, 
 
 By speaking truth. Twelve men there were of us, 
 Pelopidas our chief 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Tis true, then ? Let them howl : 
 We have him safe ! and for the ten 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Alas! 
 There are four hundred more that follow them 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Hah! 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 And, perhaps, already in the city. 
 He hath told all. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Four hundred exiles? 
 
 PHILIP 
 
 Backed 
 By a great legion of Athenians. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Ho, to the Citadel! 
 
 Call all to arms! There is our safety; there 
 We can hold out against a hundred legions. 
 Thither I ll follow, with my prisoner. 
 But hold! Knows Archias this? He must not 
 
 perish, 
 No effort made to save him. What! my tablets! 
 
284 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 A word will rouse him from his revelry. 
 
 (He writes upon his tablets and gives them to a Soldier.) 
 With thy best speed, bear these to Archias. 
 
 (Exit Soldier.) 
 
 On to the Citadel! Ere you shall have reached it, 
 And called th alarm, myself will be with you. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE III. The banquetting-room, as before. 
 ARCHIAS, PHILIDAS, and Guests discovered. Soft 
 music heard. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Fill wine again, to chase these fears away; 
 
 And think of naught but pleasure: fill, fill deep, 
 
 And, in libations to th infernal gods, 
 
 To their dark realms devote our enemies. 
 
 By heaven, methinks no man hath smiled, since 
 
 Philip 
 
 Breathed the curst name, Pelopidas, among us ! 
 Fill to the brim ! Behold, I pour the offering, 
 And thus devote him to the Furies 
 
 (As ARCHIAS is about to pour the libation, the bowl 
 falls to pieces in his hand. The Guests start up.) 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Hah! 
 
 GUESTS 
 
 An omen! 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 What, again? Are ye such sheep! 
 Hath Philip s folly so infected you? 
 All things are portents to the ignorant; 
 
PELOPIDAS 285 
 
 And only such should fear them. Fill again; 
 
 (He takes another bowl; the Guests resume their seats.) 
 
 And again pour the offering. Thus again 
 
 To the infernal Orcus I devote him! 
 
 The cup is whole, the omen fails us now! 
 
 Speak to them, Philidas. Hast thou no wisdom, 
 
 To drive these idle terrors from their breasts? 
 
 Or hold st thou, too, such faith in presages ! 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Not I, my prince. For who shall say, among 
 
 Th occurrents of affairs, which ones are they 
 
 Wherein Heaven speaks? The vultures fly all day, 
 
 Yet bear the fates not always on their wings; 
 
 The thunders rattle when they will, without 
 
 A god to wake them; dreams and visions move us, 
 
 Stirred by no restless spirits but our own. 
 
 It is the error of our vanity, 
 
 To deem Heaven thus, in trifles, speaks to us. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Thou say st the truth. Of omens, then, no more. 
 Pleasure alone be theme of speech and thought. 
 And him that frowns, looks sad, or frights the feast 
 With word of care, I ll hold a knave and traitor. 
 The cares of day enough the day employ : 
 Pleasure to-night, and business for the morrow! 
 Come our Bacchantes yet, my Philidas? 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Anon, my prince. 
 
 (Enter a Soldier of the Guard.) 
 What now? 
 
286 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SOLD. 
 
 A messenger 
 From Iphias the Athenian, these with speed : 
 
 (Gives a letter to ARCHIAS.) 
 Matters of weight and peril. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 PHIL. (Aside.) 
 
 Lost ! discovered ! 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Business to-morrow! Take it, Secretary. 
 If thou wilt read it, well : but tell not me 
 Of its contents. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Tis nothing. (Aside.) Foul divulgement! 
 (Aloud) Suspicions of the exiles. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Now, by heaven, 
 
 I ll hear their name no more! Let them plot on, 
 While we feast merrily. Fill up again. 
 
 (Re-enter the Soldier.) 
 What, knave, again! What wilt thou? 
 
 SOLD. 
 
 Please you, my prince, a drunken fellow brought 
 This letter for his excellence the Secretary. 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 Give it me, and begone. (Exit Soldier.) What, 
 
 Philidas! 
 Our friends should have no secrets ? 
 
PELOPIDAS 287 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 None, your highness 
 (Aside.) The letter of the Exiles ! All is lost ! 
 
 ARCH. 
 Faugh, how the cur hath thumbed it! (To Philidas.) 
 
 THE SECRETARY 
 
 Some beggarly petition, 
 
 I doubt me ! (He casts it away.) I did hope, a tender 
 
 missive 
 Of some fair dame, to make a jest of! 
 
 PHIL. (Aside.) 
 
 Folly, 
 I ll build an altar to thee (Music heard without.) 
 
 Hark! they come! 
 The fair Bacchantes ! 
 
 (Re-enter SOLDIER.) 
 
 SOLD. 
 
 A message from Leontidas, 
 On business of great moment. 
 
 (He offers the tablets to ARCHIAS, who refuses them; and 
 PHILIDAS takes them.) 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 What, thou knave! 
 
 At such a moment? Business to-morrow! Hence 
 All thought o th state, of all but mirth and pleasure! 
 
288 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 (The Soldier retires. The great door is thrown open; 
 and enter, to music in their cloaks and garlands, 
 PELOPIDAS and the other Exiles, followed by MELON 
 and CHARON, who secure the door. The Guests start up 
 and clap their hands. ARCHIAS descends from his seat, 
 and advances to meet them.) 
 
 Welcome, most welcome Hah ! what guests are these ! 
 
 (The Exiles throw off their cloaks, and draw their 
 
 swords.) 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Guests that ye looked not for. Down with the 
 
 tyrants! 
 Down with their myrmidons! 
 
 (He attacks ARCHIAS ; the others engage the Guests.) 
 
 ARCH. 
 
 A conspiracy! 
 Bring in the guards What ho ! Defend me, Heaven ! 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Thou call st in vain: the gods are deaf to tyrants! 
 (He kills ARCHIAS ; the Guests are driven out.) 
 Die with thy minions! Take them forth, and slay 
 
 them. 
 
 Where is Leontidas? My steel is thirsty, 
 But scorns the blood of bondmen. Where is he, 
 The master tyrant? Melon, see thou finish 
 The work here. When tis done, set after me 
 To mine own house. There is no true blow struck, 
 Till struck i th bosom of Leontidas! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
PELOPIDAS 289 
 
 SCENE IV. The prison-room in PELOPIDAS S 
 house. (Enter LEONTIDAS, with several Soldiers of the 
 Guard, one of them leading HYLAS.) 
 
 LEON. 
 
 If he be scaped Yet, no! how could that be, 
 
 Safe guarded thus? (^4 shout is heard.) Hark! how 
 
 th insurgent reptiles 
 
 Roar through the streets! Bring forth the prisoner, 
 The hind 
 (Enter, from the vault, SIBYLLA; HYLAS runs to her.) 
 
 Sibylla here! Now by Ixion, 
 And his infernal torment, this affrights me. 
 Why art thou here? Bring forth the prisoner. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Speak st thou of Hippoclus? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Of a nobler captive. 
 
 Thou bear st it well ! But now no more dissembling 
 I seek Pelopidas! Dost thou hear me, villain? 
 The prisoner! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 He is beyond thy reach. 
 Seek in the vault for none but Hippoclus; 
 For none but he remains. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Escaped ! 
 
 SOLD. 
 
 Tistrue: 
 I feared to tell your highness. 
 
 19 
 
290 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Now may fire 
 Fall on the hand that freed him! 
 
 Twas 7 that freed him. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Why, on mine then : 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Thou? 
 
 SIB. 
 
 I, Polemarch! 
 
 Twas I that oped his prison door, and gave him 
 The blade that won his freedom; I, even I, 
 (The wretch thou thought st fit only for dishonour,) 
 That sent him forth to do the like for Thebes, 
 To break her bonds, to arm her hands, to trample 
 Her thrones and tyrants, till she is free as air, 
 As free as he is ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Thou wert a wife for Mars ! 
 But triumph not too early. (To Soldier.} Rank the 
 
 guards, 
 
 Straight, at the portal; and be ready all 
 To march to th Citadel. (Exit Soldier.) I make thee 
 
 now 
 
 The last of love s persuasive invitations. 
 All is not won, nor is all lost; for, with 
 A Spartan garrison in the Citadel, 
 And Sparta s self behind, you soon shall see me 
 Master again of Thebes; her riotous people 
 
PELOPIDAS 291 
 
 Chained in securer bondage; and their chiefs 
 Again in exile. Think st them, thyself I ll yield? 
 Thou must go with me to the Citadel. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Never, vain prince Think not I fear thee now, 
 Pelopidas hard by me! Save thyself. (Another shout 
 
 heard.} 
 
 Hear st thou those cries, the uproar of a nation 
 Mad for the blood of its oppressors? Hence! 
 I scorn and hate, but would not see thee slaughtered. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Prattle these sarcasms in the Citadel 
 There is no time for trifling. What ! I ask thee, 
 Wilt thou go peacefully; or have my slaves, 
 With base, defiling clutches, drag thee thither ? 
 
 SIB. 
 
 I fear them not, nor thee. (She draws a dagger.} The 
 
 hand that aided 
 Pelopidas, can help Sibylla too! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 The day of Amazons is past. (He seizes and disarms 
 
 her.} What ho! 
 Take the boy from her. 
 
 (A soldier seizes HYLAS.) 
 
 SIB. (To the Soldier.} 
 
 Caitiff! wilt thou harm him? 
 
292 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Take him along. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Why take him, then And see 
 Thou weep not, sirrah, not a tear, I bid thee, 
 Not one, not one. But still thou tak st not me! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Art thou so heartless to desert thy child? 
 
 SIB. 
 Art thou so base to steal him? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Tis to make thee 
 Follow the path he treads. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 I would not follow 
 
 Where thou shouldst lead him ; though his tender arms 
 Were knit among my heartstrings. 
 (A -louder shout heard. SIBYLLA breaks from LEONTIDAS 
 and clings to a pillar.) 
 
 Here I hold me, 
 Till my arms are hacked off. 
 
 (Another shout) 
 
 LEON. 
 
 By heaven, the knaves 
 Will be upon us! (He snatches up the boy.) What! 
 
 thou driv st me mad, 
 And kill st thy child Come with me, or I slay himl 
 
PELOPIDAS 293 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Monster ! thou wouldst not hurt him ? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Come with me; 
 
 Or (by the gods, you know not how you stir me!) 
 I ll from the window hurl him 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Ah! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 To perish 
 Upon the lances of the guard. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Oh, man! 
 
 No, no, not man; but fiend! most savage demon! 
 Cast him forth, if thou wilt, upon the spears 
 Of thy base followers; or break and mangle 
 His innocent limbs upon the flinty stones, 
 (Stones not so flinty as thy cruel heart;) 
 Dash out his brains before my eyes; thy dagger 
 Strike through his neck and spot me with his blood ; 
 Do this, do all : thou canst not move me yet 
 One step more near dishonour. 
 
 He dies then ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 By Acheron, 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Spare him ! Oh, thyself may st soon 
 Crave the same mercy thou deny st my boy. 
 Spare him, Leontidas, and thou shalt be spared. 
 
294 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Come with me. 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Never! 
 
 (LEONTIDAS offers to cast the boy from the window.) 
 
 Oh, ye great gods, give me 
 
 Such strength as wild wolves ye have armed withal. 
 Hold, murderer, hold! 
 
 (She rushes against LEONTIDAS: a Soldier seizes her. 
 Another Shout.) 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Out, viper s egg! 
 
 SIB. 
 
 Ah! ah! 
 
 (She falls into a swoon: LEONTIDAS is about to throw 
 the boy from the window: a great shout is heard: and 
 enter PELOPIDAS, who snatches the boy from LEONTIDAS, 
 and strikes the latter down . The Soldiers fly . ) 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 What! kill the child? and not bethink thee how 
 
 The gods rain thunderbolts! Die, wretch! I strike 
 thee 
 
 First for my bleeding country: (Stabs him.) tis ap 
 peased ! 
 
 I strike now for Pelopidas! 
 
 (Kills him.) 
 (Enter DAMOCLIDES, PHILIDAS, CHARON, and Exiles; 
 
 and one from the vault, leading HIPPOCLUS. PELOPIDAS 
 
 raises SIBYLLA and gives her the boy.) 
 
PELOPIDAS 295 
 
 Sibylla! 
 My dear boy, all unharmed! Hail, friends! Thus 
 
 falls 
 Another of your tyrants ! 
 
 CHAR. 
 
 Hail thou! all hail 
 Pelopidas, our great Deliverer! 
 
 (Enter MELON.) 
 
 MEL. 
 
 Shout Victory all, and triumph, Thebes is free! 
 
 Fired by the name they love, Pelopidas, 
 
 The citizens have stormed the Citadel, 
 
 And put the garrison to the sword; and with it, 
 
 Philip the Polemarch; and Laon too, 
 
 The traitor fugitive. 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Twas noble! Father, 
 Have I not now redeemed mine honour? 
 
 (He kneels to HIPPOCLUS, who blesses him.) 
 
 HIPP. 
 
 The gods 
 Preserve you long Bceotia s champion. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 Tis triumph all! The exiles, in reserve 
 
 Upon the Hill of Fortune, marching on, 
 
 The townsmen aiding, have the gates o ermastered; 
 
 And all is ours. There s not a Spartan now 
 
 Living in Thebes. 
 
296 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PELOP. 
 
 Our liberty s accomplished! 
 Now let the world, that once derided, wonder; 
 Tyrants that scowl afar, look on and fear; 
 And the galled victims of their tyranny, 
 The poor base fools that clank their chains and smile, 
 Thinking the sound is music, those who press them 
 Upon their breasts, and still have grace to groan; 
 Let them look on, leap up, and imitate; 
 Let them look on us, till the serpent s teeth 
 (Like those i th earth sown by our Ancestor,) 
 Root in their bosoms, and bring forth armed men, 
 Striking for vengeance and for Liberty! 
 (Tableau and Curtain.) 
 
 END OF ACT V. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 
 
 The following text of The Gladiator is based on 
 the best and fullest autograph manuscript among 
 the Bird papers in the Library of the University of 
 Pennsylvania. The collection contains two other 
 manuscripts of the play, a complete rough draft in 
 the author s hand, and a careful copy of the final 
 draft in the handwriting of his wife. It seems that 
 the MS. used for this text was submitted to Edwin 
 Forrest, for whom it was written as a prize play, 
 who suggested cuts and changes for the acting 
 version. These alterations, marked with a pencil 
 in the original, are enclosed in brackets of this 
 form < >. Such changes in wording as apparently 
 met with the author s approval have been followed 
 for the most part without comment. 
 
 The Gladiator was completed in April, 1831, 
 Bird s second prize play accepted by Forrest. It 
 was first produced at the Park Theater, New York, 
 September 26, 1831, and became at once one of 
 the most successful plays on the American stage. 
 After Forrest s death it was given by John McCul- 
 lough, Robert Downing, and others with every 
 mark of favor. 
 
 297 
 
THE GLADIATOR 
 
 A TRAGEDY 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, APRIL, 183! 
 
 299 
 
THE GLADIATOR 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED 
 
 MARCUS LICINIUS CRASSUS, a Roman Prator. 
 
 Lucius GELLIUS, a Consul. 
 
 SCROPHA, a QucBstor. 
 
 Jovius, a Centurion. 
 
 MUMMIUS, lieutenant to CRASSUS. 
 
 BATIATUS LENTULUS, a Capuan Lanista, or master of 
 
 gladiators. 
 
 BRACCHIUS, a Roman Lanista. 
 FLORUS, son of B. LENTULUS. 
 SPARTACUS, a Thracian, 
 PHASARIUS, his brother, 
 
 , a Gaul, 
 
 Gladiators. 
 
 CRIXUS, a German, 
 
 and others, 
 
 A boy, son of SPARTACUS. 
 JULIA, niece of CRASSUS. 
 SENONA, wife of SPARTACUS. 
 Citizens, soldiers, etc. 
 
 SCENE. Rome, and parts of Italy. Time, B.C. 73. 
 
 300 
 
THE GLADIATOR 
 ACT I 
 
 SCENE I. Rome. The Street before BRACCHIUS S 
 house. Enter PHASARIUS, ^NOMAIIS, and other gladi 
 ators. 
 
 PHASARIUS. 
 
 There never was a properer moment. I look around 
 me on the Roman flocks, that are deserted by their 
 watchdogs and shepherds, and my ringers itch to 
 be at their throats. Rome has sent forth her 
 generals to conquer the world, and left nothing 
 but her name for the protection of her citizens. 
 Where now is that warlike, arrogant, and envious 
 coxcomb, Pompey? Quarrelling, he and that 
 old brawler, Metellus, in Spain, with the rebel, 
 Sertorius: Lucullus, the Spoiler? Chasing the 
 braggart, Mithridates, over his Pontic mountains: 
 and Marcus, his brother? Killing the rest of my 
 countrymen, the furies speed him! That restless 
 boy, young Caesar? Among the islands, crucify 
 ing the pirates. Marius dead, Sylla rotting. 
 There is not a man in Rome, that Rome could now 
 look to for service. 
 
 The praetor, Crassus. 
 
 301 
 
302 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 The miserable rich man, the patrician monger, that, 
 by traffic in human flesh, has turned a patrimony 
 of an hundred talents into an hundred thousand ! 
 If there be any virtue in the love of wealth, 
 then is the praetor a most virtuous man; for he 
 loves it better than he loves the gods. And if he 
 be great and magnanimous, who coins his gold 
 from the sinews of his bondsmen, set me down 
 Crassus as the beloved of all greatness. Sblood, 
 brother sworder, what were such a counter of 
 silver in the iron wars? Get me up a rebellion, 
 and you shall see this great man brained by the 
 least of his merchandise. 
 
 .ENO. 
 
 Well, I should like to be at the killing of some dozen 
 such tyrants. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Why should you not ? Some thousands like ourselves, 
 Most scurvy fellows, that have been trained, like dogs, 
 To tear each other for their masters pleasure, 
 Shed blood, cut throats, and do such mortal mischiefs 
 As men love best to work upon their foes, 
 Of these there are some thousands in this realm, 
 Have the same wish with us, to turn their swords 
 Upon their masters. And, tis natural, 
 That wish, and reasonable, very reasonable. 
 I am tired of slaying bondmen like myself, 
 I am sick of it. That day the Roman knight, 
 To win the smile of the rich quaestor s daughter, 
 In the arena sprung, and volunteered 
 
THE GLADIATOR 303 
 
 To kill a gladiator, and did find 
 His liver spitted, like a thing of naught, 
 Upon my weapon, since that day I tasted 
 Of Roman blood, I have had no desire 
 To kill poor slaves I ve longed for naught but Ro 
 mans! 
 
 Well, we can die, and kill some, ere we die. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Ay, marry, some dozens ; 
 
 And should those wretches be but moved to join us, 
 
 We might, for dozens, count us glorious thousands. 
 
 .ENO. 
 
 Well, we are all agreed to this. We are thirty. But how 
 Shall we get weapons? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Set our dens afire, 
 And force the armoury. 
 
 /ENO. 
 
 Our master, Bracchius, 
 Has a sharp watch to that. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 In half an hour, 
 
 We are at our morning s practice. Now, thou knowest, 
 To keep me in good heart, he humours me 
 Most fulsomely. I have won him some great wagers, 
 So I am worth his fooling. I will urge him, 
 For this day s play, instead of laths, to give us 
 
304 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 True brands, for keener practice, that we may 
 Show nobler for him at the praetor s games. 
 
 <He knows, indeed, tis needful we have ready, 
 For these same games, the best of skill : > I ve heard 
 That Lentulus the Capuan brings a troop 
 Of excellent swordsmen on that day. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 What, excellent? 
 Did I not beat his boaster? Excellent? 
 
 Tis rumoured so. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 By Jove, we will put off 
 This thing a day ! I have seen no excellence 
 In weapons for a month. 
 
 .ENO. 
 
 Why need you see it ? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Nay, if he have a man to meet a man, 
 I must be in the arena : No desertion, 
 When there s a peril to be dared and ended ! 
 Faith, I will have a bout, if it but be 
 To make Rome talk. You shall see, ^Enomaiis, 
 If he be matched with me in the Thracian combat, 
 How I will use that trick my brother taught me, 
 When first I flashed a weapon. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 305 
 
 I doubt not, 
 You will maintain your reputation. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Faith, 
 
 I ll hear once more this Roman acclamation, 
 Ere it be changed to curses. 
 
 See ! Our master 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Well, get you gone. 
 
 Forget not for the weapons. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Ay, ay after the shows. 
 
 (Ex[i]t. ^ENOMAIIS and the Gladiators. Enter 
 BRACCHIUS.) 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 How now, Phasarius; what did these cutthroats here? 
 
 Idling, Sirrah? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 No; they were moralizing over their scars, and asking 
 what they had got by em. 
 
 BRAC; 
 
 Do the rogues think themselves soldiers, that their 
 cuts should be worth anything but showing? 
 
 20 
 
306 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 No. But some of them hope to be made freedmen one 
 day, when they are no longer fit for the arena. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Fellow, thou knowest I love thee, and will enfranchise 
 thee. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Yes, when my eye is dimmed, my arm stiffened, my 
 heart chilled, my head gray : I look for redemption 
 no sooner. I am a lusty, serviceable rogue yet: 
 Why should you free me now? 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Sirrah, are you insolent? I will have the centupon- 
 dium to your heels, and the lash to your shoulders. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Which will make me fight the better at the praetor s 
 games, hah ! Which of us is the lunatic ? 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 What, you knave ! 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Thou art my master; but I know, thou wouldst as 
 soon set me free, as scourge me. Both would 
 destroy thy subsistence, and one thy life; in 
 either case, I would fight no more. And if thou 
 wert to touch me lawfully with the thong, thou 
 knowest, I would unlawfully murder thee. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 307 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 You shall be crucified ! 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Then shall the crows pick forty thousand crowns from 
 my bones; for so much are these muscles worth. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Out upon you, villain ! It is my favour has made thee 
 so insolent. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 It is my knowledge of my own price, and not thy 
 favour, which is more perilous than thine anger. 
 Pr ythee, threaten me no more; or I shall grow 
 peaceable, and spoil thy fortune. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 You have sworn never to decline the combat. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Ay; so I have. But I have found no one regards a 
 slave s oath; and why now should the slave? It 
 is my humour, and not my oath, makes me a 
 shedder of blood. But the humour may change. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Well, thou art a most impudent talker; it is eternal 
 Saturnalia with thee. But I forgive thee, and 
 will do thee more kindness than I have done 
 already. 
 
308 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Which is to say, you have some new jeopardy to put 
 my neck in. You have some gladiator of fame 
 you would have me fight, is it not? 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Ay, if rumour be worth the noting. Crassus has hired 
 the gladiators from Capua; and, tis said, Lentu- 
 lus will bring with them a man that will cut the 
 coxcomb from thy pate, and utterly annihilate 
 thee. 
 
 PHAS. 
 They say so? Annihilate me! 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Faith, tis so reckoned, and strong wagers are making 
 against you. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Hah? Against me? Annihilate me! If he have a 
 head of adamant and a breast of brass, he may do 
 it; but if his scull be common bone, and his skin 
 no thicker than bullhide Mehercle! let me see 
 this Cyclops. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Now, by Jupiter, I love thy spirit. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Has he no name? No country? No voucher of 
 triumphs? Marry, for a mushroom, a thing that 
 was yesterday unknown, his credit is a jot too 
 
THE GLADIATOR 309 
 
 arrogant; and, as I am a Thracian, and feel the 
 blood of the warlike god, the father of Thrace, 
 still tingle in my fingers, I will make my iron 
 acquainted with his ribs. Out upon him, 
 Annihilate me! 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Come, thou art his better; but he is noted enough to 
 make thy triumph the more glorious. Put thy 
 self in the meanwhile to practice. But who comes 
 here? What, Lentulus of Capua? 
 
 (Enter LENTULUS.) 
 
 By mine honesty, I am glad to see thee. Bringest 
 thou any new cutthroats? What man, here is 
 my Mars of gladiators, my most unmatched and 
 unmatchable, Phasarius the Thracian. Look how 
 lusty the knave looks! Hast anything fit to be 
 slashed by such a fellow ? 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Nay, I know not. Tis a most gallant villain. < Slew 
 he not six at the shows given by Gellius the 
 consul? 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Yes, by Mars; and would have made eel s meat of the 
 seventh, but that the people grew pitiful and 
 pointed their thumbs. T could have cuffed em, 
 senators and all. He had him on his hip, his 
 body bent round him thus, his fist to his poll, 
 his dagger to his throat. By Mars, twas the 
 noblest sight I had seen for a month: and yet 
 
310 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 when he looked to them for the doom, the pitiful 
 things cried Nay. I could have cuffed em!> 
 
 LENT. 
 
 But is he thy best man ? 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 The best in Rome. I have a Gaul too; but he is not 
 his equal. I would thou hadst a match for either. 
 Crassus will pay: the best gladiator in the land 
 were no loss, if killed in his service. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 I have brought some indifferent good fellows: and 
 one of them, I think, I would wager against your 
 unmatchable. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Hearest thou that, Phasarius? Get in and practice. 
 
 (Exit PHASARIUS.) 
 
 LENT. 
 
 But he will not take the gladiator s oaths. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 What, is he slave or felon? 
 
 LENT. 
 
 A slave that I bought of the quaestor just returned 
 from the army of Thrace; a shepherd, I think, 
 they told me, and leader of a horde of his savage 
 countrymen. I bought him on the faith of the 
 fame he brought with him, of being the most 
 desperate, unconquerable, and, indeed, skilful 
 
THE GLADIATOR 31 1 
 
 barbarian in the province. <Thou hast not for 
 got Caius Clypeus, the centurion, that fought in 
 the shows at the funeral of Sylla ? 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 He was accounted on that day the second swordsman 
 in Rome. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 His bones, with those of two of his followers, are 
 rotting on the banks of the Strymon. The three 
 attacked the valiant savage, my bondman; and 
 by Jupiter, without other help than fortune and 
 extraordinary prowess, he slew them all. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Hercules! he has magic weapons !> But how was 
 he taken ? 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Betrayed by his follower, while he slept; and yet he 
 had vengeance on his betrayer, for he dashed his 
 brains out upon a rock. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Excellent! Dash his brains out! He is a Titan. I 
 would have given a dozen common slaves to have 
 seen him do that thing! 
 
 LENT. 
 
 But he will not swear. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Come, thou knowest not the nature of these fellows. 
 Didst thou speak him kindly? 
 
312 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Ay: but I had better have talked softly to a hyena: 
 he did but scowl at me. Faith, he will sit yon 
 by the day, looking at his chains, or the wall; and 
 if one has a word from him, it is commonly a 
 question, How many leagues he is away from 
 Thrace. 
 
 BRAC. 
 Didst thou tell him of the honours of a gladiator? 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Ay; and he asked if cutting throats was the most 
 honourable occupation in Rome? 
 
 BRAC. . 
 
 By Mars, thou shouldst have scourged him. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 I did. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 And how wrought it? 
 
 LENT. 
 
 I think the knave had killed me, when I struck him, ay, 
 even with his manacled fist, but that he was 
 felled by the staff of my freedman. I should 
 have hanged him, but was loath to lose so bold 
 a varlet. Wherefore I had him scourged again, 
 and faith he took it as passively as a stone. But 
 it will not make him swear. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Didst thou vow to the gods to hang him up like a dog, 
 if he were so obstinate? 
 
THE GLADIATOR 313 
 
 LENT. 
 
 I had a halter put to his neck; but then he laughed, 
 and thanked his barbarous gods for such indul 
 gence. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Nay, this is a madman. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 I had the fetters taken from his arm, and sent one to 
 attack him with a weapon. But although I laid 
 a sword by him, he would not use it ; yet he struck 
 the assailant with his fist, and felled him as one 
 would a wall with a battering ram. But then 
 he was angry. Another time, he sat still, and 
 let the slave wound him, unresisting. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Moody caitiff! Thou hadst better drown him. Look 
 thou Mine eyes are dim I have bought a troop 
 of women and children Thracians too and I 
 think those be they coming yonder. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Thou art mistaken. Those are mine own cutthroats, 
 and the wild Thracian among them. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Why didst thou bring him to Rome? 
 
 LENT. 
 
 In a last hope to urge him to the oath. Look, is he 
 not a most warlike and promising fellow? 
 
 (Enter SPARTACUS, chained, and FLORUS with the CA- 
 PUAN Gladiators.) 
 
314 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 A Hercules, a Mars! What, thou rogue, why dost 
 thou droop thus? Why art thou so sullen and 
 obstinate? No words? What, canst thou not 
 speak? Fetch me a scourge hither I ll find 
 thee a tongue. 
 
 LENT. 
 Come, sirrah, look up, speak, show thyself. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Is it a thousand leagues away to Thrace ? 
 
 LENT. 
 
 What, thou fool, wilt thou always be harping on 
 
 Thrace? 
 Tis so far away, thou wilt never see it more. 
 
 SPART. 
 Never. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Why I say, never. Why wilt thou be so mad as to 
 think of it? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Have Romans fathers, and wives, and children? 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Truly ! Thou art a Thracian ; what is thy name ? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Misery. 
 
Thouseest! 
 
 THE GLADIATOR 315 
 
 LENT. 
 BRAC. 
 
 Faith, thou hast scourged him too much; thou hast 
 broke his heart. Come, sirrah, dost thou love 
 thy country? 
 
 y 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I have none, I am a slave. I was bought; I say, 
 I was bought. Do you doubt it? That man 
 scourges me ; thou didst threaten me with stripes ; 
 every Roman I look upon, speaks to me of scourg 
 ing. Nay they may: I was bought. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Thou seest, Bracchius! This is the manner of his 
 obstinacy. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Nay, I see more than thou thinkest. I can move him 
 yet. Observe him. He mutters to himself. 
 
 SPART. 
 Is not this Rome? The great city? 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Ay; and thou shouldst thank the gods they have 
 suffered thee to see it, before thou diest. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I heard of it, when I was a boy among the hills, piping 
 to my father s flocks. They said, that spoke of it, 
 
316 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 it was the queen of cities, the metropolis of the 
 world. My heart grew big within me, to hear of 
 its greatness. I thought those men who could 
 make it so, were greater than men ; they were gods. 
 
 LENT. 
 And are they not, sirrah? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 How many palaces, that look like the habitations of 
 divinities, are here about me ! Here are marble 
 mountains, that have been hewn down and 
 shaped anew, for men to dwell among. Gold, 
 and silver, and purple, and a million of men 
 thronging the pillared hills! 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 And what thinkest thou, now thou hast seen it ? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 That, if Romans had not been fiends, Rome had 
 never been great ! Whence came this greatness, 
 but from the miseries of subjugated nations? 
 How many myriads of happy people people that 
 had not wronged Rome, for they knew not Rome 
 how many myriads of these were slain like the 
 beasts of the field, that Rome might fatten upon 
 their blood, and become great? Look ye, Ro 
 man, there is not a palace upon these hills that 
 cost not the lives of a thousand innocent men; 
 there is no deed of greatness ye can boast, but 
 it was achieved upon the ruin of a nation ; there 
 is no joy ye can feel, but its ingredients are blood 
 and tears. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 317 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Now marry, villain, thou wert bought not to prate, 
 but to fight. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I will not fight. I will contend with mine enemy, 
 when there is strife between us; and if that enemy 
 be one of these same fiends, a Roman, I will 
 give him advantage of weapon and place; he 
 shall take a helmet and buckler; while I, with my 
 head bare, my breast naked, and nothing in my 
 hand but my shepherd s staff, will beat him to 
 my feet and slay him. But I will not slay a man 
 for the diversion of Romans. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Thou canst boast, barbarian! If thou canst do this, 
 what brought thee to Rome, a captive? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Treachery! I was friendless, sick, famished. My 
 enemies came in numbers. They were like the 
 rats of Egypt, that will not come near the croco 
 dile while he is awake : they attacked me sleeping. 
 Had they found me with a weapon in my hands, 
 Gods! I had not now been a thing for Romans 
 to scourge. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Fellow, I love thee. What is thy name? 
 
 SPART. 
 What matters it? 
 
318 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 BRAG. 
 
 Wilt thou be free? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Free! 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Take the oaths of a gladiator, and kill me a score of 
 lusty fellows 
 
 SPART. 
 
 A score ! kill a score of men ? in cold blood ? and for 
 the diversion of Rome s rabble? I will not. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 By Mars, then you shall be sent to man young Caesar s 
 galleys, and be whipped daily. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Fight me half a score, and, by Jupiter, I will send thee 
 back to thy wife. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 My wife ! The last thing that mine eyes looked on, 
 When my steps turned from Thrace, it was my cottage 
 A hideous ruin ; the Roman fires has scorched it : 
 No wife sat sobbing by the wreck; no child 
 Wept on the sward ; not even the watchdog howled : 
 There was no life there. Well, why should I talk? 
 Tis better they are perished. 
 
 The slave is reckless. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 This is despair : 
 
THE GLADIATOR 319 
 
 SPART. 
 
 O ye heavens ! that sight 
 Withered my heart; I was a man no more. 
 I had been happy too! Had ye spared them, 
 Then spoke of freedom, you should have had my blood, 
 For beastly ransome: All integrity 
 And pride of heart I would have sold for it. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Sirrah, there are more wives in Thrace. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Lo now! 
 
 He ll speak no more. You, Bracchius, have more skill 
 To move these obstinates. You shall buy him of me. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 And hang him! Marry, not I. He is a madman. 
 I have some better merchandise here now, 
 Not warlike, but as gainful. 
 
 (Enter SENONA, with a child, and other slaves.) 
 
 Thou seest these creatures: 
 
 Here are some Thracians too. The moody villain ! 
 He should be hanged. The Thracian women are 
 Most excellent spinners. Buy a brace of them 
 For your wife. I care not for so many. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 This woman 
 That weeps so, she with the brat, is she a Thracian? 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Hark ye, mistress, answer are you of Thrace? 
 
 One might swear it by her silence; for these savages 
 
320 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Are always obstinate at the first. You like her? 
 Well, out of my friendship now, I ll almost give her to 
 
 you. 
 Three thousand drachmas 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Three thousand furies! 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Ay, with the boy too Tis a lusty imp. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Three thousand sesterces; and that s too much. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Jove ! talk of sesterces ? This cub is worth it ! 
 
 (BRAC. handling the child roughly.) 
 
 SEND. 
 
 Ah, hurt him not. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Hah! 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Three thousand sesterces. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Did my ears mock me? 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Well then sesterces, 
 For the woman alone. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 321 
 
 SENO. 
 
 You will not part us ? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Hah! 
 
 Gods, pity me ! does the grave give back the dead ? 
 Senona! 
 
 SENO. 
 
 Hah! Hah! My husband! 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 What s the matter? 
 
 LENT. 
 A bargain 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 What, his wife ? Six thousand drachmas. 
 No more sesterces! Caitiff, is this thy wife? (To 
 SPART.) 
 
 SPART. 
 
 And my miserable boy too, 
 Exposed in the street to sell! 
 
 Six thousand drachmas. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 By Jove, I have you. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Why didst thou not die? 
 
 Villains, do you put them up for sale, like beasts? 
 Look at them : they are human. 
 
322 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Silence, rogue. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I will not silence. I will ransome them, 
 What way you will, with life or blood. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 By Jove, 
 
 I will not sell her. Into the house, get in. 
 Take her along. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 You shall not I will brain that man 
 That lays his hand upon her. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Kill the villain. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Man, master! See, I am at your feet, and call you, 
 Of mine own will, My Master ! I will serve you 
 Better than slave e er served; grant me this prayer, 
 And hire my blood out. Buy yes, that s the word; 
 It does not choke me buy her, buy the boy; 
 Keep us together 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Six thousand drachmas 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I will earn them, 
 Though they were doubled. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 323 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Will you fight? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 And die. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Die! Then my gold is lost. 
 
 Buy them, buy them. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I will not die. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 And you will swear? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I will 
 
 To be a cutthroat and a murderer, 
 Whate er you will, so you will buy them. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Unbind him. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Six thousand 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Three. Remember, Bracchius, 
 If you prevent his fighting, your own profit 
 Suffers as well as mine. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Five thousand then. 
 
324 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Nay, pr ythee, four. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Well, out of friendship, 
 It shall be four. But, faith, my Gaul shall kill him. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 We shall see. I ll wager even, and no less 
 Than the purchase money. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Come dry your tears, Senona : 
 We are slaves: Why should slaves weep? 
 
 SENO. 
 
 O, dear my husband, 
 
 Though I ne er thought to have the joy to meet you 
 
 Again, in this dark world, I scarce feel joy 
 
 I think, my heart is burst. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Come, be of better cheer: 
 Art thou not now amid the gorgeous piles 
 Of the potential and the far-famed Rome ? 
 
 SENO. 
 
 But Oh, the hills of our own native land! 
 The brooks and forests 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ah! no more, no more: 
 
 Think of them not. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 325 
 
 SENO. 
 
 Where we fed sheep, and laughed 
 To think there could be sorrow in the world ; 
 The bright, clear rivers, even that washed the walls 
 Of our burned cottage 
 
 SPART. 
 
 No more, no more, no more. 
 Are there not hills and brooks in Italy, 
 Fairer than ours? Content you, girl. 
 
 SENO. 
 
 Alas, 
 This boy must be a Roman, and a slave. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 By heaven, he shall not ! Free as rock-hatched eagles, 
 Thy boy was born, and so shall live and die! 
 We wear our fetters only for a time 
 Romans are not all like these men. We ll see 
 Our home yet. We are slaves but for a time. 
 I need not ask thee for my mother, girl : 
 I know this thing has slain her. Her heart cracked, 
 When they bore off my brother. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 With the Gaul then: 
 And if he beat him, as I think he will, 
 Then shall he battle with your best. Now, sirrah. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Hah! 
 
326 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SENO. 
 
 Husband ! 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Well, it is not chains alone 
 That make the slave. What will my master have? 
 
 LENT. 
 
 I ll have thee exercise thine arm in practice. 
 Thou wilt have brave men to contend with. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Well, 
 I will do so : but speak it not before my wife. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Get thee along. Florus, conduct them to 
 Their lodgings. See this Thracian exercised. 
 
 (Exeunt.} 
 
 END OF ACT I. 
 
ACT II 
 
 SCENE I. A room in CRASSUS S house. Enter 
 CRASSUS, Jovius, an Artificer, and a Slave. 
 
 CRASS us 
 
 To the full letter of the law. What, use 
 My excellent slave in thy most gainful craft, 
 And groan at the reckoning? By Jupiter, 
 Thou shalt his hire pay to the utmost sesterce, 
 Or have a quittance writ upon thy back. 
 Breed I then servants for the good of knaves ? 
 Find me the money, or I ll have thee whipped. 
 Begone. (Exit Artificer.) I built not up my for 
 tunes thus, 
 
 By taking sighs for coin: had I done so, 
 Foul breath had ruined me. How should I then 
 Have borne the hard expenses of these games, 
 The uproarious voters clamour for ? 
 
 jov. 
 
 What! true. 
 
 Wealth is the key to office, here in Rome, 
 Or is the lock that best secures it. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Sirrah, 
 
 Thou dost not mean, the officers bribe the people? 
 
 327 
 
328 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 jov. 
 
 I had sooner lug old Cerberus by the ears, 
 
 Than do aught to our citizens, but praise em. 
 
 But, in your gracious ears, our sovereign Romans 
 
 Are something bauble-brained; and, like to children, 
 
 Pass qualmish by their needful medicines, 
 
 To snatch at sugary playthings. What do they 
 
 In their elections? Faith, I have observed, 
 
 They ask not if their candidate have honour, 
 
 Or honesty, or proper qualities ; 
 
 But, with an eager grin, What is his wealth? 
 
 If thus and thus Then he can give us shows 
 
 And feasts; and therefore is the proper man. 
 
 An excellent mode of judging ! 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Ancient comrade, 
 At me thou point st now. 
 
 jov. 
 
 Not irreverently: 
 
 I question of the people; and, I think, 
 They loved great Marius more for his rich feasts, 
 Than his rich victories. Sooth, when angry Sylla 
 Swept them, like dogs, out of his bloody path, 
 And made their hearts sore, they forgot their fury, 
 When once they had looked upon his righting lions. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Hence, thou inferrest, they have chose me praetor, 
 Being rich enough to purchase them diversions ! 
 But I have done them service in the wars, 
 And, out of gratitude But no more of that. 
 They shall be pleased: the games go bravely on. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 329 
 
 The Capuan hath brought me a new sworder. 
 Sirrah, go bid my niece here (Exit Slave.) This Cap 
 uan hath 
 A son most insolent and troublesome. 
 
 (Enter FLORUS) 
 
 What, Sirrah, again? Hast thou not had thy answer? 
 <Kill me these flies that being lean themselves, 
 Swarm after fatness. > Why art thou this fool, 
 To covet my rich niece ? 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 I seek not riches. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Pah ! Will poor lovers sing eternally 
 The self -same song ? They seek not riches ! Jove, 
 Why pass they then all poverty, where their choice 
 Might find a wider compass ? 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Excellent praetor, 
 Give me the maid, and keep her lands thyself. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Sirrah, thou know st, the girl abhors thee. Look, 
 She has the blood of nobles in her veins, 
 Distilling purely through a thousand years ; 
 And thine comes grossly from a German slave s, 
 That was thy grandsire. 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Worth and deserving toil can raise me up, 
 Even from my poverty, to wealth and honours. 
 And these shall do it. 
 
330 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Get thee away then 
 
 To warring Pompey, and, with thy soiled sword, 
 Carve out clean honours; not forgetting, whilst 
 Thy right hand grasps the enemy s throat, to 
 
 thrust 
 
 The left into his purse : For what is honour, 
 With empty pockets, in this thievish world? 
 Honour is men s consideration : men 
 Consider none, but those can profit them. 
 Therefore, if thou lt be quick 
 In gaining honour, use thy right hand rather 
 For gathering gold than killing or rather use them 
 
 both: 
 Make much, and thou shalt be most honourable. 
 
 jov. 
 
 Thou hearest, Florus? This is the truer wisdom. 
 
 I ve fought for honour some good thirty years, 
 
 < Courting her with such madman freaks, as 
 
 leaping, 
 
 First man, upon an arm d wall in the storm; 
 Saving a comrade s life (some dozen of em,) 
 Out of the jaws of death; contesting singly 
 With scores, in divers places. > But being foolish, 
 In my hot haste for slaughter, I forgot 
 To look for spoil; and lo, the consequence! 
 I bear the vine-branch, 1 and am only honoured 
 As a gray-haired centurion. 
 
 1 The MS. contains the folio wing note, written in Bird s hand: 
 This (the vine branch) was the badge of a centurion s office, 
 and he should carry it at least in camp and in his embassies. " 
 
THE GLADIATOR 331 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Get thee gone. 
 When thou art worthy, ask her, and no sooner. 
 
 (Exit FLORUS.) 
 
 A most mad, insolent boy, and honest son 
 Of a breeder of cutthroats ! Would some knave would 
 
 hang him. 
 
 He has the damsel s heart too. See, she comes. 
 Is the litter ready ? 
 
 (Enter JULIA.) 
 
 JUL. 
 
 It cannot be, dear uncle, 
 You will send me to the country ? 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 It cannot be ! 
 
 What, chuff, it cannot be? In faith, it can be, 
 And, instantly, it shall be : Into the country, 
 To weep and meditate. I am ashamed 
 You have so poor a spirit as to love 
 This base-born Capuan, whose whole wealth you 
 
 might, 
 Piled up in coin, base on a puny drachma. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 Ah ! When did love e er think of drachmas, uncle? 
 <You would have me, when a lover moans, demand 
 
 him, 
 
 Could he coin gold, as easily as sighs; 
 Or when he wept, ask if his pockets had 
 As many talents as his eyes had tears. 
 
332 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Then should he change his manner, and where he 
 
 might 
 
 Have wooed me with soft words, assault me with 
 A schedule of his properties; instead 
 Of flattering, boast me of his lands; his vows 
 Change into oaths of, lord, how rich he was. 
 How could I say him nay?> 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 A milksop boy, 
 
 That has done nothing in the world but breathe, 
 Has won no name or fortune. Why should such 
 A natural expletive, <a sack of breath, > 
 Aspire to wealth or woman ? When he proves him 
 Worth his existence, then let him aspire. 
 Till then thou shalt be hid from his presumption, 
 Even in Campania. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 Oh, but not today. 
 
 Tomorrow, or the next day, when the games are done. 
 I must see them : twould kill me, not to look 
 Once more upon the fighting gladiators. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Pho! 
 
 Thou a green girl, and talk of gladiators ! 
 My youth was pass d in battles, and I am not 
 Unused to blood ; but my flesh always creeps, 
 To see these cold-blood slaughters. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 So does mine. 
 
 Ugh ! my heart stops with terror, and my eyes 
 Seem parting from their sockets; my brain reels, 
 
THE GLADIATOR 333 
 
 While I look on; and while I look, each time, 
 I swear I ne er will look again. But when 
 They battle boldly, and the people shout, 
 And the poor creatures look so fearless, frowning, 
 Not groaning, when they are hurt : Indeed tis noble ! 
 <And though they fright me, always make me weep, 
 I love to see them. These are your own shows :> 
 Oh, I must see them. 
 
 jov. 
 
 This is a brave maiden. 
 
 < You should look on a battle two great armies, 
 (Perhaps a hundred thousand men apiece:) 
 Fighting as staunchly as so many wolves, 
 Throttling and stabbing, dying in multitudes, 
 A chaos of death : Even such a one as that 
 (My own first fight) at Aqua Sextia, 
 Against the Ambrones, where a hundred thousand 
 Of the barbarians fell. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 An hundred thousand! 
 
 jov. 
 Was it not glorious? 
 
 JUL. 
 Horrid! 
 
 JOV. 
 
 Horrid! Humph, 
 Still woman. But these were barbarians. 
 
334 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 JUL. 
 Were they not men ? 
 
 jov. 
 
 Why yes, a sort of men. 
 
 They had legs and arms, noses and eyes like men, 
 They bled like men; but, being barbarians, 
 Of not much matter of account as men. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 That makes a difference. But an hundred thousand 
 Was many to kill, even of barbarians. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Come, you re a goose, you know not what you say. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 O but these gladiators! My friend, Caloeia, 
 Told me that famous one, Phasarius, 
 Would fight today. He is a handsome rogue, 
 And kills a man the prettiest in the world. > 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 You shall not see him. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 Dear my uncle. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 You came 
 
 Into this city, modest and obedient; 
 Now you have learnt to cog, cajole and cozen; 
 And, in the teeth of my authority, 
 
THE GLADIATOR 335 
 
 Give private hopes to this low Capuan; 
 And, while mine eyes are tied upon the games, 
 Would But I ll balk your hoped for interviews. 
 The litter waits you at the door. Farewell. 
 This good old man, who once was my tried client, 
 Shall have you in charge. Now no more opposition. 
 Farewell. Be wise, and love none but the worthy. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE II. A court before LENTULUS S house. 
 Enter FLORUS with SPARTACUS, CRIXUS, and other 
 Gladiators. 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 You have played well, and beaten Crixus fairly. 
 Carry this skilfulness to the arena, 
 And you shall win great honour. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Great degradation. 
 
 No matter : I am sworn to be a caitiff. 
 Where have you placed my wife ? It was conditioned , 
 You should not part us. 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 She is lodged hard by : 
 
 After the combat, you shall see her. Come, 
 Play me a bout here with Soturius. 
 I ll fetch you foils. 
 
 SPART. 
 I ll play no more : I was not sworn to that. 
 
336 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 You cannot go too well prepared. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Even as I stand, 
 
 Awkward or skilful, doomed to die or kill, 
 So will I go. I ll train no more for murder. 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Well, as you will. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Will it not be enough, 
 If I disarm or worst my enemy ? 
 May I not spare him ? 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Not unless the people 
 
 Grant you permission. <When you have him at 
 Your mercy, look to the spectators then. 
 If they consent, they will their thumbs raise thus: 
 Then you shall spare. But if their hands be clenched, 
 And the thumbs hid, then must you slay. > 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Well, well^ 
 I understand. 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Breathe yourselves here awhile, 
 Then follow to the armoury. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Good brother, 
 Have you yet fought i th Amphitheatre? 
 
THE GLADIATOR 337 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 Ay. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 And killed 
 Your adversary? 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 Ay. Each one of us 
 Has won some reputation. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Reputation ! 
 Call you this reputation? 
 
 This is the bulldog s reputation: 
 
 He and the gladiator only need 
 
 The voice o the master, to set on to mischief. 
 
 Love you your masters? 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 No. 
 
 Go ye to perish ? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Or of your own wishes 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 No; but being slaves, 
 
 We care not much for life; and think it better 
 To die upon the arena, than the cross. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 If ye care not for life, why die ye not 
 Rather like men, than dogs? 
 
338 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 What mean you? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Were it not better 
 
 To turn upon your masters, and so die, 
 Killing them that oppress you, rather than fall, 
 Killing your brother wretches ? 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 True, it were. 
 
 Put arms into our hands, unlock our dungeons, 
 And set us out among the citizens; 
 Then ask this question. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Do you say this? By heaven, 
 This spirit joys me. Fight ye all today? 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 We are so ordered. 
 
 SPART. 
 How many do you number? 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 Fifty. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Fifty? How many hath this Roman, 
 This villain Bracchius? 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 Some five and thirty. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 339 
 
 SPART. 
 
 And fight they all? 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 Some forty pairs today. 
 
 SPART. 
 O heaven, what, forty? 
 
 Two hundred pairs. 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 And ere the shows are done, 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Two hundred pairs ! Four hundred 
 Arm d slaves, that hate their masters! 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 On the third day, 
 All that survive, will fight in general battle. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 In general battle! If Senona now, 
 
 And the young infant were in Thrace. Alas, 
 
 To peril them. 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 What say st thou, Thracian? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Nothing ; 
 At least, not much. Are there now troops in Rome? 
 
340 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD, 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 Four legions of Praetorian Guards; and now 
 Each legion counts five thousand. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Twill not do. 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 What will not do? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I ll tell you by and by: 
 
 Tis worth your ear. But let us now go arm, 
 Then to the Arena, to begin the work 
 Of slavish murder. We are gladiators. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE III. The Arena of an Amphitheatre, be 
 hind which are many citizens. CRASSUS seated with his 
 Lictors, MUMMIUS, LENTULUS, BRACCHIUS, FLORUS, 
 and many officers, fiLdiles, Conquisitores , etc. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Let our good friends, the citizens, be seated. 
 
 We purpose to delight their humours with 
 
 The bravest gladiators of this realm. 
 
 What say st thou, Capuan ? Why tell me, thou 
 
 Hast brought me some brave cutthroats, to be pitched, 
 
 Through the first hours, in single combat, with 
 
 The best slaves of our Bracchius. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Even so, 
 Most noble praetor; and, with the consent 
 
THE GLADIATOR 341 
 
 Of your appointed officers, we first 
 Will bring a lusty Thracian, who, although 
 Yet unadventured in the Arena, bears 
 A name of valour. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Let him before us. 
 
 (Exit FLORUS.) 
 
 Had Thracians, by their firesides, fought as fiercely 
 As now they fight upon the Roman sand, 
 The cranes o the Strymon still had been their sentries. 
 
 (Reenter FLORUS, with SPARTACUS, as a gladiator.) 
 
 Is this the man? A very capital knave; 
 
 Yet, or I err, of but a little spirit. 
 
 Where is the fiery confidence, should flash 
 
 From his bold eyes? the keen and tameless spirit, 
 
 Should brace his strong limbs to activity? 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Driveller, arouse thee! Let not his gloom condemn 
 
 him: 
 
 He is most wayward, but, in truth, right valiant. 
 What, sirrah, shake off these clouds, and do thy 
 
 homage 
 To the most noble praetor. Bend thy knee. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Did I swear that? Kneel thou, whose servile soul 
 Was given for crouching. I am here to fight! 
 
 CRASS. 
 This is some madman ! 
 
342 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 LENT. 
 
 A barbarian, 
 Bred in a savage roughness. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Well, I am here, 
 
 Among these beasts of Rome, a spectacle. 
 This is the temple, where they mock the Gods 
 With human butchery, Most grand and glorious 
 Of structure and device! It should have been a cave, 
 Some foul and midnight pit, or den of bones, 
 Where murder best might veil himself from sight. 
 Women and children, too, to see men die, 
 And clap their hands at every stab ! This is 
 The boastful excellence of Rome ! I thank the Gods 
 There are Barbarians. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Now by Jupiter, 
 
 The rogue speaks well But Romans must be pleased- 
 Sirrah, (Conies down center.) 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Roman ! 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Most impudently bold. 
 I did mistake him. Prepare thyself. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I am ready, 
 
 As ready to die, as thou to see me die. 
 Where is the opponent? Of what nation comes 
 The man that I must kill? 
 
THE GLADIATOR 343 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 What matters it? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Much, very much. Bring me some base ally 
 Of Roman rapine, or, if ye can, a Roman: 
 I will not grieve to slay him. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Faith, I like 
 
 This fearless taunting, and will sound it further. 
 Thy foe shall be a Spaniard. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Alas, I should 
 
 Bethink me of his country, as of mine, 
 Ruined and harried by our common foe; 
 His kinsmen slain, his wife and children sold, 
 And nothing left of all his country s greatness, 
 Save groans and curses on the conquerors. 
 
 CRASS. 
 A Carthaginian. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 What, a Carthaginian? 
 A relic of that noble tribe, that ne er 
 Would call Rome friend, and perished rather than 
 Become Rome s vassal? I could not fight with him: 
 We should drop swords, and recollect together, 
 As brothers, how the Punic steel had smote, 
 Of yore, to Rome s chill d heart; yea, how Rome 
 quaked, 
 
344 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 How shook her proud sons, when the African 
 Burst from the sea, like to its mightiest surge, 
 Swept your vain shores, and swallow d up your armies ! 
 How, when his weapons, gored with consular blood, 
 Waved o er your towns, your bucklered boasters fled, 
 Or shook, like aguish boys, and wept and prayed: 
 Yea, feared to die, and wept and prayed. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 < Peace, villain. > 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Strike him not, Lentulus. The prattler knows 
 There s scarce a man of the Punic stock left living, 
 To boast of these mishaps. Thy adversary 
 Is a brave Gaul. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Why there again! The name 
 Speaks of Rome s shame. Name but a Gaul, and I 
 Bethink me of the Tiber running blood, 
 His tributaries choked with knightly corses; 
 Of Rome in ashes, and of Brennus laughing 
 At the starved cravens in the Capitol. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Sirrah, no more. 
 
 Be but thy sword as biting as thy tongue, 
 
 And I ll assure thee victory. Bring in 
 
 The Gaul. Use thy best skill, if skill thou hast, 
 
 Or I ll not lay an obolus on thy life. 
 
 (A Gallic Gladiator is brought in.} 
 Clear the Arena (Ascends chair again). 
 
THE GLADIATOR 345 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I will fight with him; 
 But give me to spare his life. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 That privilege 
 
 Rests with the people. Remember thy oath. Sound, 
 trumpets. 
 
 (A flourish.) 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Brother 
 
 CRASS. 
 No words; but do thy best. < He ll spit thee. > 
 
 (They fight. The GAUL is disarmed, and thrown on his 
 
 knees. SPARTACUS looks to the people.) 
 Thine oath! Strike, < villain !> Hah! 
 (SPARTACUS kills the GAUL.) 
 
 Why that was bravely done. 
 
 SPART. 
 Well, I have done it. Let me go hence. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Not so. 
 Most nobly fought! 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Alas, alas, poor slave ! 
 
 CRASS. 
 Bring me another. 
 
 (The body is taken away.) 
 
346 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I will fight no more. 
 
 CRASS. 
 Sirrah! 
 
 SPART. 
 I have heart enough to die, but not to kill. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Why twas most capitally done! Remember 
 Thy oath. 
 
 SPART. 
 I care not. I will fight no more. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Thou shalt have freedom. Nay, I ll ransome for thee, 
 Thy wife and boy. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Wilt thou? 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 By Mars, I will. 
 
 Fight through these games; and thou and they shall be 
 Sent back to Thrace. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Shall we see Thrace again? 
 Let him come on; yes, though it sick my soul, 
 Let him come on. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 347 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Bring in the Thracian! 
 
 (Exit BRACCHIUS.) 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Thracian? 
 I will not fight a Thracian! Tis my countryman! 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Nay, but thou shalt, and kill him too; or thou 
 And they, are slaves eternally. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 O heaven ! 
 
 Bring me a Spaniard, German, Carthaginian, 
 Another Gaul, a Greek any but Thracian. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 None 
 
 But this same Thracian is thy match; and truly 
 If thou slay him, there will remain no other 
 Worthy of thee. Thou shalt be quickly free. 
 
 SPART. 
 I will fight two three so they be not Thracians. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 The Thracian, or eternal bondage; bondage 
 For wife and child too. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Wilt thou swear to free us ? 
 Fight with a Thracian! Wilt thou swear to free us? 
 
348 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Bring hither the Vindicta: With this rod, 
 If thou escape this man, the praetor frees thee. 
 
 (Reenter BRACCHIUS, with PHASARIUS.) 
 This is thy foe. 
 
 PHAS. 
 (Aside.) What, do I dream? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Alas, 
 
 Thou art a Thracian and my countryman, 
 And yet we meet as deadly foes. Forgive me. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 (Aside.) This is no fantasy! 
 
 Thy boaster hesitates. 
 
 CRASS. 
 Observe them, Bracchius: 
 
 PHAS. 
 Thou art a Thracian ? 
 
 SPART. 
 Would thou wert not. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Of the Ciconian tribe 
 A son of blue- waved Hebrus? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Such I am. 
 
 And comest thou too of the same race ? and set 
 Against thy brother? 
 
THE GLADIATOR 349 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Brother, indeed! 
 Thy name is Spartacus. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Where learn t you that? 
 Freemen have heard it, but not slaves. 
 
 PHAS. 
 How fares thy father ? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Didst thou know him? Dead 
 I cannot fight thee. 
 
 PHAS. 
 Hadst thou not a brother? 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Why prate these cutthroats? Come, prepare, pre 
 pare 
 
 SPART. 
 
 A young, brave heart, whose steps I taught to dare 
 The crags and chasms and roaring cataracts 
 Of his own native hills, till he was freer 
 Among them than the eagles. What art thou, 
 That seem st to know him? I would be angry with 
 
 thee: 
 These words make me look on thee as a friend. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Seem I not like Phasarius? 
 
350 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SPART. 
 
 What, thou? 
 
 A mailed warrior like a singing boy ? 
 The Romans slew him. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 They enslaved him Brother, 
 Changed as I am, and from a harmless boy, 
 Turned to a rough destroyer, still am I 
 The selfsame fool that once thou called st brother. 
 
 SPART. 
 Thou mock st me. Thou ! 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 My father, Menalon 
 
 SPART. 
 Thy father, Menalon? 
 
 PHAS. 
 My mother 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ay, thy mother? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Laodice. 
 
 SPART. 
 My brother ! 
 
 CRASS. 
 What mean these rogues, that they have dropped 
 
 their swords, 
 And fain, like friends, about each other s necks? 
 
THE GLADIATOR 351 
 
 What ho, ye slaves, give o er this timeless juggling: 
 Take up your swords, and look ye to the signal. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I do believe the gods have given me o er 
 To some new madness : First, I find in Rome, 
 Where naught I looked for but despair, my wife 
 And then my brother ! 
 
 < CRASS. 
 
 Villains! 
 
 SPART. 
 
 But I am sorry 
 To find thee here, Phasarius. > 
 
 LENT. 
 
 < Whining miscreant, > 
 Why mark st thou not the praetor? 
 
 Let the trumpet sound. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 < Rogues, prepare. > 
 
 SPART. 
 Bring me my adversary. 
 
 CRASS. 
 Thou hast him there. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 What he? This is my brother. 
 You would not have me fight with him ! 
 
352 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 His brother? 
 
 PHAS. 
 Tis true, most excellent praetor. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Now, by Hercules, 
 This is too strange for truth. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Ye cogging rogues, 
 Think ye to balk us thus? 
 
 <BRAC. 
 
 Conspiracy ! 
 
 Shameful collusion! Out on you, Phasarius, 
 You re not afeard now? Out, ye cheating villain. > 
 
 PHAS. 
 Hear me, good praetor 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 < Rogues > , prepare yourselves. 
 This is a most evident knavery, to scape 
 From one another. Brothers indeed! Prepare; 
 Take up your arms. 
 
 SPART. 
 Foul Roman 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Bring me in 
 The guarding cohort: (An Officer goes out.) I ll have 
 
 them cut to pieces, 
 If they refuse the battle. Brothers indeed! 
 
THE GLADIATOR 353 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Thou hard, unnatural man 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Patience, brother 
 
 SPART. 
 Let them come in We are armed. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Most strange and insolent contumacy ! 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 (Aside.) Tis something sudden and in Rome! 
 Peace brother. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 We will resist them, armed as we are. 
 Can we not die? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Most worthy praetor, pardon. 
 Grant us a word together, and we are ready. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Fine knavery! I did almost suspect 
 Yon cutthroat for a coward that twas skill alone 
 Gave him his courage, which he fear d to try 
 With that more skilful savage. For the barbarian, 
 His soul is made of contrariety. 
 33 
 
354 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 (Apart to SPART.) I know them all This thing was 
 
 hatch d before. 
 They wait without, 
 
 Circled by cohorts, but all arm d for combat. 
 Let me but raise the cry of Freedom to them, 
 And each man strikes his Roman to the earth. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 The slaves of Lentulus they will strike too: 
 Let us but reach them, and they rise with us. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 One moment, princely praetor. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Not an instant. 
 
 What, shall our shows wait on the time and pleasure 
 Of our base bondmen ? Sound the trumpets there 
 What, treachery, ho ! Call in the soldiers ! 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Freedom 
 For gladiators ! 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Death to all their masters! 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Treachery ! 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Death to the Roman fiends, that make their mirth 
 Out of the groans of bleeding misery ! 
 
THE GLADIATOR 355 
 
 Ho, slaves, arise! it is your hour to kill! 
 Kill and spare not For wrath and liberty ! 
 Freedom for bondmen freedom and revenge ! 
 (Shouts and trumpets The guards and gladiators rush 
 and engage in combat, as the curtain falls .) 
 
 END OF ACT II. 
 
ACT III 
 
 SCENE I. 1 A room in CRASSUS S house. Enter 
 CRASSUS, Jovius, LENTULUS, BRACCHIUS, MUMMIUS. 
 
 < CRASS. 
 
 Incredible! What, fight a consular army? 
 Or look one in the face? 
 
 jov. 
 
 So says the courier. 
 
 Tis sworn, that half the slaves of Italy 
 Are flocking to his banner. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Fight a consul ! 
 Fight Cneus Lentulus! 
 
 jov. 
 
 Tis not so much 
 
 To one who has already beat a proconsul. 
 You ll not doubt that? nor that these madman slaves, 
 Led by this whirlwind slayer 
 
 1 There is a query in Bird s handwriting "whether to restore the 
 beginning of this scene or some part of it? " It seems that Dr. 
 Bird submitted the MS. of The Gladiator to Edwin Forrest for 
 revision, who no doubt suggested many of the cuts indicated. 
 
 356 
 
THE GLADIATOR 357 
 
 LENT. 
 
 My precious Thracian ! 
 
 jov. 
 
 Have vanquished severally, and in pitched battles, 
 Three praetors of the provinces. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Shame upon them ! 
 
 Sneers for their lives, contempt for epitaphs! 
 Beaten by slaves ! I warrant me, by mine 
 Two thousand costly and ungrateful villains : 
 I ll hang them, every man. Beaten by slaves, 
 Gross, starving, unarmed slaves! 
 
 jov. 
 
 Not now unarmed . 
 
 Each rogue has got a Roman harness on, 
 Filched from the carcass of a Roman veteran. 
 Not starving neither, whilst every day they sack 
 Some camp or city pouncing sudden down, 
 Like vultures, from their hills upon our troops. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Scandalous, scandalous! Slaves, wretched slaves, 
 Led by a slave too ! 
 
 LENT. 
 Still my precious Thracian ! 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 A scurvy gladiator, with no brains; 
 An ignorant savage. 
 
358 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 jov. 
 
 Come, give the rogue his due: 
 He has more brains than all our generals, 
 For he has beaten them; that s a soldier s proof. 
 This Spartacus, so late a bondman, has 
 A soul for master; though a shepherd bred, 
 He has fought battles, ay, and led men too, 
 Some mountain malcontents in his own land, 
 Gainst Roman conquerors; and, by the faith 
 Of honesty, for honest I will be, 
 In courage, stratagem, resource, exploits, 
 He shows a good commander. He has formed, 
 Out of this slavish, ragged scum, an army; 
 Arms it and feeds it at his foeman s cost, 
 Recruits it in his foeman s territory; 
 Which foe is renowned Rome, resistless Rome, 
 Rome the great head and empress of the world ! 
 Is he not then a general ? 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 I grant you, 
 
 The rogue is not a common one; but still 
 A slave. And much it shames me that the senate 
 Finds me no worthier enemy; whom to conquer, 
 Wins neither spoil nor honour. 
 
 jov. 
 
 No spoil indeed, 
 
 Unless you count their arms and bodies such ; 
 But honour enough to him that beats the vanquisher 
 Of some half score commanders : There s your honour. 
 Come, stir these centuries: My old bones are aching 
 For one more battering, ere they fall to dust. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 359 
 
 The reprobates must be put down, that s certain, 
 And by yourself, or Pompey. > 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Now the gods rest him ! 
 Is there no trouble can befal the state, 
 But men must cry for Pompey? As if Rome 
 Had whelped no other fit to do her service. 
 < Still is it Pompey, great and valiant Pompey, 
 Must all our state thorns conjure into laurels. 
 Well, Crassus is not Pompey, but may serve 
 For the besom. 
 
 jov. 
 
 What, a besom? 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Ay, to sweep away 
 This filthy blush out of Rome s cheek. > These 
 
 varlets, 
 
 These fooled lanistce, that have trained slaves up 
 To fight their masters, shall to camp with me, 
 And of the evils they have caused, partake. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 I am willing. 
 
 I ll kill my Thracian, though he be a general. 
 
 BRACH. 
 
 It matters not how soon I am knock d o the head. 
 I have not now a gladiator left. 
 The rogues have ruined me. 
 
360 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Where is thy son? 
 This knave shall march too. Have you brought the 
 
 woman, 
 The wife o the Thracian, here to Rome? 
 
 LENT. 
 
 I have sent for her. 
 
 My son has gone into Campania . 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 What, to Campania ? Now by Jupiter, 
 This fool will set me mad. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 I know not that. 
 
 He went with the band of youthful volunteers, 
 To the camp of Gellius, the consul. 
 
 JOV. 
 
 Bravely done. 
 
 That was in memory of our counselling. 
 But now for action. <You remember, praetor, 
 This consul prays immediate succours, being 
 But ill provided, should the Gladiator, 
 In contest with his colleague, prove victorious, 
 As there is ground to fear; for Lentulus, 
 At the last word, was at extremities. 
 Being deprived too by the angry senate 
 Of their authority, their mutinous troops 
 But scurvily obey them. > Should the rebels 
 Come near your country-seat 
 
THE GLADIATOR 361 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 No more of that : 
 
 The consul shall protect her. Presently 
 Bring me six legions; which, being added to 
 The consular troops and the knights volunteers, 
 We ll have appointed to this service. Then 
 There shall be knocks enough, I promise you. 
 See that these people follow, and all men 
 Whose slaves have joined the rebels. It is reason, 
 The rogues should kill no masters but their own. 
 
 (Exeunt.} 
 
 SCENE II. A plain in Campania, after the battle. 
 Some corses lying about. March of trumpets. Enter, 
 sumptuously armed, SPARTACUS, PHASARIUS, CRIXUS, 
 ^ENOMAIIS, and Attendants. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 So, we are victors, conquerors again. 
 
 The hotbrained boasters, that in mockery thought 
 
 To ape the angry Scythian, and subdue us 
 
 With whips, instead of warlike instruments, 
 
 Lie hush d and gory; and, despite the claim 
 
 Of their high honours and nobility, 
 
 There is no slave too base to tread upon them. 
 
 There he s a Consul. I have known that word 
 
 Fright men more than the name of gorgeous kings. 
 
 Say to barbaric States, A Consul comes, 
 
 A Roman Consul, and their preparation 
 
 Of war or welcome, speaks a demigod. 
 
 And yet lies he on the opprobrious earth, 
 
 A palmy Consul, by a slave s hand slain, 
 
362 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 No nobler than his horse a thing to 
 Glut the starved hyena s maw. x 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Ay and there s another 
 Must lie beside him. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Speak you of Gellius? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Ay, marry. I ll fight now nothing less than consuls. 
 There is another of them, and I say, 
 Another battle and another victory. 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 Tis but to will, and we have won it. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ay; 
 
 But not today. Our medly bands have earned 
 Their armour, and are weary. Tis full six leagues 
 To Gellius camp. 
 
 CRIX. 
 My Germans will not fear it. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 It cannot be, and must not. 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 Must not, Spartacus? 
 1 The original reading, struck out in the MS., was, 
 
 " a thing to rot 
 In a hyena s paunch." 
 
 The reading I have adopted is written in a hand resembling 
 Forrest s, in pencil, and is probably his suggestion. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 363 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ay, man, I say so : this thing must not be. 
 When ye were few, with one consent, ye chose me 
 Your leader, with each man an oath to yield 
 To me sole guidance. This was little honour, 
 To be the chief of fourscore fugitives, 
 And none would have it, save myself. I took it, 
 And ye have prospered. Under my authority, 
 In a few days your ranks have been swell d up 
 To fearful thousands; and from a band of slaves, 
 Skulking in caves, you have become an army 
 Can fight a Roman Consul. This is proof, 
 I have deserved obedience; and therefore, 
 1 still command it. 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 And my countrymen 
 
 Myself have made their leader; and they bid me 
 Lead them to Gellius. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 We are but one army, 
 With but one object, howsoe er our ranks 
 Are filled with various nations. We are slaves, 
 All of us slaves, contesting for our freedom; 
 And so far free, that we have arms and kill ; 
 No further. We have yet to cut our way 
 Out of this tyrant empire; which to do, 
 We must destroy more armies, that are gathering 
 To hem us in. We do not fight for conquest, 
 But conquer for our liberties ; and they 
 Are lost by rashness. Let us rest our troops, 
 And think of Gellius on the morrow. 
 
364 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 Today, today, 
 
 Ere he have rallied this fight s fugitives. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 The thousands that are crowding to our lines 
 Will, by the dawn, have trebled all his gain. 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 I will beat him with the Germans alone. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 You shall not; 
 I am your general, and forbid you. 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 Thracian, 
 I was a slave, but am not now. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Brother Crixus, 
 
 On second thoughts, tis better put this off, 
 According as the general commands. 
 
 CRIX. 
 
 I am sole leader of my countrymen. 
 
 PHAS. 
 Sirrah, thou art a mutineer. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Peace, brother. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Defy the general ! If one beggar s rogue 
 Of all his Germans dare to leave the lines, 
 I ll have him spitted like a cur. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 365 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Peace, brother. 
 
 Contention will harm worse than this partition. 
 German, thou hast thy wish : depart in peace, 
 But without hope of succour, if the Roman 
 Prevail above thee. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Pray the gods he do! 
 
 <And thwack them till they are skinless, all. 
 Base rascals 
 And mutineers !> 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Take all thy countrymen, 
 Or all that wish to follow thee. 
 
 (Exit CRIXUS.) 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Rank mutiny! 
 Why did you let him go ? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 To teach him, brother, 
 Him and some others of our lieutenants, 
 (For we are growing mad upon success,) 
 An humbling lesson. A defeat were now 
 Better than victory; and, in his Germans, 
 We best can bear it. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Let them go, and hang; 
 They are all villanous hotheads, and presumptuous 
 
366 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Beyond all tolerance. And, to punish them, 
 They shall not share with us the fame and spoil 
 Of the sack d city. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Brother, I think thou art 
 Almost as madbrained as the rest. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 I have 
 
 A kind of ardour, that, for aught I know, 
 May be a lunacy. But this is clear: 
 Rome is a city; cities may be sack d; 
 So Rome may be. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 A city, that the world 
 
 Looks frighted at, even in her sleep of peace, 
 As gazers look at sleeping lions. I told 
 This German fool, we did not fight for conquest, 
 But for a passport to our several homes. 
 What care we then to waste our vigour on 
 The gates of fortressed cities? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 But this city 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Is as impregnable as the storm-arm d sea. 
 Why should we talk of it? Great Mithridates, 
 Though populous Asia followed at his back, 
 Should, were his frothy hopes to point at it, 
 Be laughed at for a kingly maniac. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 367 
 
 What should be said of us, the mushroom warriors 
 Of Roman dunghills, should our arrogance 
 Mad us so far ? I think, we do not fight 
 To make the world talk ? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 I would have you do so; 
 Fight now for glory; let ambition raise you 
 Among the deathless, now while fate invites you. 
 Rome has no greatness, but is now employed 
 In foreign climes : You have well tried yourself ; 
 And consuls vanish, when your trumpet sounds. 
 March on the city, and there swear to die, 
 Or live its master, and you are its master. 
 Think, brother, think what glorious fame were ours, 
 As lasting as the eternal world, should we, 
 The upturned dregs of servitude, destroy, 
 As, by the inviting fates ! We may destroy, 
 This lair of lions, this den of conquerors, 
 This womb of heroes, whose boastings fright the earth, 
 And whose ambition ( look, Ambition 1) chains it! 
 
 < SPART. 
 
 This is a wild and most preposterous hope. 
 Even the fierce Hannibal, with veteran troops, 
 And all the towns of Italy at his feet, 
 Save this alone, here paused his hopes. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Hope thou 
 
 T excel the vaunted African, and dare 
 Beyond his daring. Hast thou not a heart 
 Bigger than his, that, with a herd of slaves, 
 Hast wrought as much as all his veterans? 
 
368 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Smiles heaven upon thee less, which, in an hour, 
 Has, from a dungeon, raised thee to an army, 
 Still growing, still victorious? Do this deed, 
 And live for ever. > 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Well, well, I ll think of it. 
 Perhaps Senona s there: Ah, would to heaven, 
 
 Phasarius, 
 
 I were with her now and my smiling boy, 
 In Thrace again, beside our mountain cot, 
 Or in those vales, where babbling Hebrus tumbles 
 Along his golden sands ; and dreamt no more 
 Of sacks and battles. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Whilst this city stands, 
 
 This ne er can be; for just so long our country 
 Remains a Roman province. Tear it down, 
 And you enfranchise Thrace, and half the world. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 We ll think of this again, when we are stronger, 
 
 And when we have Senona sent to us. 
 
 Meanwhile we must the final effort make 
 
 To ransome her. < Did you secure a guide, 
 
 To lead us through the mountains ? I have seen 
 
 The camp most strongly guarded, and fear not 
 
 To trust it with the trusty ^Enomaiis. 
 
 When the tired troops have slept an hour, I ll order 
 
 To bring them after us, to see indeed 
 
 How we may end, what Crixus may begin, 
 
 Disastrously for him, on Gellius, 
 
 In the confusion of the Consul s triumph. > 
 
THE GLADIATOR 369 
 
 Pick me an hundred of our swiftest horses, 
 And have them presently in wait for me. 
 I shall fight better, when I know, each blow 
 Strikes a protection for my family. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE III. A room in CRASSUS S Villa. Enter 
 JULIA and FLORUS. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 I am glad to see thee. This terrific din 
 
 Of the near battle made a sparrow of me. 
 
 I was af eard to breathe, < lest I should swallow 
 
 Some of your horrid missiles ; for I ran 
 
 Unto the housetop, to look on the fight. 
 
 But the moon was more coward than myself, 
 
 And hid her pale face in a cloud : so nothing 
 
 I saw. But I could hear the brazen trumps, 
 
 The conchs and cornets, the shouts and yells of fury, 
 
 The clang of arms, and whistling in the air 
 
 Of stones and arrows. But, come tell me now, 
 
 My general, have you killed a foe tonight? 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 And won a civic crown, by saving a friend. 
 
 JUL. 
 That s good ; I am glad to hear it. > 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 But I am sorry 
 
 To find you here among these fears and perils. 
 
 I would you were in Rome. 
 
370 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 JUL. 
 
 There is no peril. 
 
 Have you not beaten these wild gladiators ? 
 A shepherd flying from his pastures, told me, 
 That Gellius had the victory, and had taken 
 Or killed the insurgent, bloody Spartacus. 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 I know not that. Tis true, that we have beaten 
 A band of mad rogues, that assaulted us; 
 And tis believed, their general, Spartacus, 
 Is dead upon our trenches ; for whose body 
 Search is now made. But one poor prisoner, 
 < I think, the only one whose life was spared, > 
 Declared these troops to be but a small band 
 Of mutinous runagates, that had left their leader, 
 Being thereto moved by their late victory 
 Over the consul Lentulus. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 What, Florus! 
 A victory over Lentulus ? 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Tis even so : 
 
 His army has been vanquished, himself slain 
 By the late bondman. And those, who give faith 
 To the assurance of our prisoner, 
 Fear for our consul, should the Thracian march, 
 After his mutineers, upon us now; 
 Our camp being all a confused festival 
 Of drunken triumph, half our soldiers scattered 
 In search of spoil and fugitives. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 371 
 
 SPARTACUS (within) 
 
 Guard the doors : 
 Let none go out. 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 What voice is that ? B y heaven , 
 We are betrayed ! 
 (Enter SPARTACUS, PHASARIUS, and others. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 <Sold, lost, and dead!> Look to the maiden. 
 <What, flourishing fool, > drop thy sword s point, or 
 die. 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 A thousand times, ere thou, malicious rebel, 
 Touch this endangered lady. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Straw, I say ! 
 (He disarms Florus.) 
 Know I not this boy s face? 1 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 I think thou should st. 
 
 Spare thou the lady, rich will be her ransome. 
 And for myself, I know, thy deadly fury 
 Grants never quarter. 
 
 1 There are the following notes in Bird s hand, evidently in 
 answer to Forrest s suggested cuts. 
 
 "Think you had better keep these expressions particularly the 
 flourishing fool and straw. They express, in a very lofty and 
 furious style, the contempt which such a man as Spartacus would 
 feel at finding himself resisted by a younker. " 
 
 " The term boy s was meant as a substitute for boyish; not, as if 
 asking the question of others, the face of this boy. " 
 
372 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SPART. 
 
 By the stripes not yet 
 
 Fled from mine outraged limbs, thou art the son 
 Of Lentulus the scourger ! 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Ay, the same. 
 
 Let him atone his rascal father s sins : 
 Scourge him to death. 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Give me a soldier s death : 
 Let me die by the sword. I never scourged thee. 
 
 SPART. 
 Thou ! Miserable boy ! 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 And well thou knowest, 
 
 Thou fierce and fiendish man, this tongue of mine 
 Was oft thy intercessor. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I do know, 
 
 One of thyblood did give me to the scourge 
 Me, a free son of a free sire, and imaged 
 After the semblance of the Only Master 
 Gave me to thongs and whips, as a poor beast, 
 Till I became one. This I know; know thou, 
 From that shamed hour, when first my body writhed 
 Under the merciless lash, I did devote 
 
THE GLADIATOR 373 
 
 The scourger and his household to the furies, 
 
 To quick and murderous death. And thinkest thou, 
 
 Thy whining kindness took away a pang? 
 
 Thou art the Roman s son, and thou shalt die. 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Let it be so 
 
 SPART. 
 
 It shall be so. Thou seest, 
 Command and dignities have not wiped out 
 The memory of wrongs ; and Roman blood, 
 Running in rivers ever at my feet, 
 Sates not the thirst for more ! Take him away ; 
 Scourge him to death. 
 
 JUL. (To SPART.) 
 
 Thou horrible monster, spare him, 
 And name whate er thou wilt for ransome. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ransome ! 
 Drachmas for stripes! 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Beseech him not, fair Julia. 
 Think of thyself, or let me think for thee. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 He never did thee hurt. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Let her be ta en away. 
 
374 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Let her be ransomed, and for thine own wife. 
 
 SPART. 
 Ay, so I will : twas e en for that I took her. 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Then may st thou instantly exchange them. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 How! 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Thy wife is in the consul s camp 
 
 SPART. 
 
 In the consul s camp? 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 There driven by the fright of her conductors. 
 And thou may st instant ransome her. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ha, ha! 
 Now does Jove smile. What, ransome her? Ay, 
 
 ransome ; 
 
 But with the steel. I can almost forgive thee, 
 For this good news. Praetor, I have thee now 
 In the same trap thou set dst for me! What, sirrah, 
 Ye have beaten my refractory lieutenant, 
 The German Crixus? 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Ay, I thank the gods. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 375 
 
 SPART. 
 
 And so do I ; it wins me victory, 
 And puts the second consul in my hands. 
 Antistheus, see these captives safely guarded. 
 Brother, the troops must now be nigh upon us. 
 Take thou the Thracian cohorts, and in secret 
 Steal to the heights that overhang his rear, 
 Posting a strong guard on the river. Let none scape, 
 And let none live. Myself will force the camp, 
 And drive the rioting fools upon your swords. 
 I say, spare none. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Twere much too troublesome 
 To imitate them, and build crucifixes 
 For the prisoners. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Let not a moment s rashness 
 Bring us a limping victory. Stand fast 
 Upon your post, and every rogue is dead. 
 Roman, thou shalt see how I ll ransome her! 
 
 (Exeunt) 
 
 SCENE IV. The Tent of GELLIUS, the Consul 
 GELLIUS discovered, with SCROPHA, SENONA and her 
 child, and attendants. 
 
 GEL. 
 
 There is no doubt, this foolish German lies. 
 Twas the main body of the rebels surely. 
 No mere detachment would have impudence 
 To march upon a consul. Now this victory, 
 
376 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Which, on the morn, I ll follow up, will change 
 The tone o the angry Senate, and restore me 
 To my full rank, and, what is better, send 
 The scheming Crassus empty-handed back. 
 This is a man should fight in the Velabrum, 
 Among the cheating mongers, and not bring 
 His brains of a broker to a glorious camp. 
 This woman here, the wife o the Gladiator, 
 That cutthroat caitiff 
 
 SENO. 
 
 Why dost thou slander him? 
 Has he not fought a consul ? 
 
 GEL. 
 
 Pr ythee, be silent. 
 
 He s a brave rebel, and will be renowned. 
 Now, as I said, with this same woman here, 
 The Greek-brained Crassus did design some trick, 
 Some scurvy plot upon the Gladiator 
 (Alarums.) 
 
 SCROPH. 
 Hark! 
 
 GEL. 
 
 A device of the rejoicing drunkards. 
 This thing meant Crassus, this 
 
 SCROPH. 
 
 The clang increases ! 
 (A great shout is heard.) 
 
THE GLADIATOR 377 
 
 GEL. 
 
 The knaves are noisy. 
 
 (Enter a CENTURION, wounded.} 
 
 CENT. 
 Fly for your lives ! The camp is forced 
 
 GEL. 
 
 What camp? 
 
 CENT. 
 
 Your own. The Gladiators are upon us: 
 
 We are surprised, and all is lost. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 GEL. 
 
 My armour ! 
 What ho, my armour! 
 
 (Exeunt all but SENONA and child.) 
 Enter SPARTACUS, ^ENOMAIIS, and Gladiators. 
 
 SPART. 1 
 
 Victory! Ha! ha! 
 
 Romans are sheep search every tent ah! Jove! 
 I have found ye wife, aye, and have ransomed ye. 
 What did you think I had deserted you? 
 
 1 1 have followed the reading probably suggested by Forrest. 
 The original lines, crossed out in the MS., are: 
 
 41 Victory! ha, ha. 
 
 Romans are sheep. Search every tent Ah, Jove! 
 I have found ye, wife, and in a noble hour. 
 When we met last, I was a slave; and now, 
 In a consul s camp, I stand a conqueror! 
 
 "(Drop.)" 
 
378 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Look, I have found you in a noble hour : 
 When last we met I was a slave : and now 
 In a Consul s camp I stand a conqueror! 
 
 (CURTAIN.) 
 
 END OF ACT III. 
 
ACT IV 
 
 < SCENE I. 1 The Camp of CRASSUS. Enter 
 CRASSUS, MUMMIUS, Jovius, LENTULUS, BRACCHIUS, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 And Gellius beaten too? both consuls beaten? 
 This is some demigod that hath ta en man s shape, 
 To whip us for our sins. Both consuls beaten? 
 I would I had those Macedonian legions. 
 
 jov. 
 
 Have them thou shalt; ay, and the Spanish too: 
 The senate, in their terror, (for the victories 
 Of this great savage now add fright to shame,) 
 Bid Pompey and Lucullus, with their troops, 
 Instant embark for Rome. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Why should they send 
 
 For Pompey too ? Perhaps it may be better. 
 See that the fugitives from the consular camps 
 Be decimated, and so punished. The cowards should 
 Be slain by duplates rather than by tithes: 
 I ll make example of them. Jovius, 
 
 1 This scene is struck out in the MS. and, according to a note in 
 Bird s handwriting, was "omitted in the representation. " 
 
 379 
 
380 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Lay not this consul near my villa ? I would not 
 My niece should come to harm ; and it is horrid 
 To think her in the hands of the barbarians. 
 
 jov. 
 I am sorry, praetor 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 What, man, is it so? 
 
 jov. 
 
 A herdsman, fled that night from the estate, 
 Just on the eve of battle, saw the house 
 Beset by numerous slaves. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 The gods be with her: 
 
 I loved her well. Sirrah, where is that woman, 
 I bade thee bring me ? 
 
 But on the road. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Not yet reached the camp, 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Let her be hastened hither. 
 I did intend to use her as a check 
 On the uxorious chief. Now shall she ransome 
 My Julia from him. Where lies the enemy? 
 
 jov. 
 He is advancing on us. 
 
 CRASS. 
 What, advancing? 
 
THE GLADIATOR 381 
 
 jov. 
 
 With countless multitudes at his heels. 
 
 Intrench, intrench. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 What! come, 
 
 jov. 
 
 Rather march out to meet him. 
 Shall it be said, that Crassus, the lieutenant 
 Of valiant Sylla, hid behind a trench, 
 When bondmen menaced him ? 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Shall it be said, 
 
 Crassus, the praetor, like a hair-brained fool, 
 Helped these same bondmen to a victory ? 
 Spear me these cowards; and intrench, I say. 
 What, sirrah? 
 
 (Enter a Messenger, who speaks with Jovius.) 
 
 jov. 
 
 Happy tidings ! Marcus Lucullus 
 Hath landed his army at Brundisium; 
 
 CRASS, 
 The gods be thank d. 
 
 At Ostia. 
 
 jov. 
 And legion d Pompey too 
 
382 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Still thanks. Let messengers 
 Be sent o the instant to both generals, 
 Praying them, as they love the gods and Rome, 
 Their march to hasten. 
 
 (Exit Messenger.) 
 Good centurion, 
 
 I will employ thee in a difficult office, 
 Wherein thou may st the state and me do service. 
 
 jov. 
 Let it be honest then and soldier-like. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 So it shall be. I ll have thee an ambassador 
 
 To this mad Thracian, to propose a ransome 
 
 For my unhappy niece, if niece I have; 
 
 Or to exchange for her his wife and brat, 
 
 Now in our hands. If she be living, have her 
 
 At any ransome ; stick not at the sum. 
 
 And hark ye, use your eyes and wisdom well. 
 
 Look me out, as a soldier, what twould profit 
 
 A soldier to have known; and if thou find st 
 
 A man among his officers to be bribed 
 
 To any treason may advantage us, 
 
 Make him what gain thou wilt. But see thou bring 
 
 My Julia with thee. If thou find st a man, 
 
 That may be bought, at any price, to murder 
 
 The Thracian, buy him for that act. 
 
 jov. 
 
 Not I: 
 No foul and dastard blows i the back. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 383 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Ay, none 
 
 For honest enemies ; but felon foes 
 E en crush feloniously. Away: heaven speed thee. 
 Kill we the chief, and I will end the war, 
 Ere Pompey conies to share with me the honour. 
 
 (Exeunt.} 
 
ACT IV 
 
 SCENE I. The Camp of SPARTACUS. Enter SEN- 
 ONA, JULIA, FLORUS, and ^ENOMAIIS. 
 
 SENO. 
 Weep not, poor lady. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 Why bid st thou me not weep? 
 Hadst thou no tears, when thou didst find thyself 
 The slave of strangers? Yes, thou hadst, although 
 In bond of the merciful, who were never used 
 To aught but gentleness with woman. Yet me, 
 The lily-cradled daughter of great nobles, 
 Brought to the slavish l thrall of slaves, exposed 
 To all their brutal cruelty, thou bid st 
 To weep no more. 
 
 SENO. 
 
 It is thy fright, that conjures 
 These shapes of danger. Thou art here as safe 
 As woman may be in a troubled camp. 
 Thou art no slave; but, I am sure, art held 
 To timely ransome. Pray be comforted: 
 I know, thou art safe. 
 
 1 There is a query in Bird s hand, "Shall I substitute vile, 
 odious, degrading, or some other word?" 
 
 384 
 
THE GLADIATOR 385 
 
 JUL. 
 
 I have, I know, that safety 
 That may be found in den of wolves or bears. 
 Would I had died or e er my fate had thrust me 
 Among these dreadful murderers. 
 
 SENO. 
 
 They are such 
 To none my husband favours. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 Is not he 
 
 As fierce and pitiless as the rest, who seeks 
 To venge his wrongs upon the innocent ? 
 He that has madly doomed that hapless captive 
 His father s crime in blood to expiate? 
 
 SRNO. 
 
 He has not doomed him; nay, if he said so, 
 It was in wrath; and he will pardon him. 
 The heart that throbs beneath his bloody mail, 
 Can melt to pity quickly as thine own. 
 I think, he ll free him; for thyself, I know, 
 Thou art protected. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 Am I from his brother, 
 The insolent Phasarius? Heard I not 
 What claim that villain made to me? Alas, 
 Thou art a woman, and can pity me. 
 
 SENO. 
 Thine ears deceived thee; did they not, ^Enomaiis? 
 
386 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ,NO. 
 
 I think so, lady. 
 
 SENO. 
 
 Did not this argument 
 Point to some claim of war? 
 
 A bold proposal 
 
 Made by Phasarius, by the chief denied: 
 This was their argument. 
 
 (Enter SPARTACUS.) 
 
 JUL. 
 
 Alas, behold 
 
 How frowns the angry fury on his face ! 
 Bodes this no ill to Florus or to me? 
 
 SENO. 
 
 What is the matter, husband, that you look 
 So sad and heavy? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Sad and heavy, am I ? 
 
 (Aside.) And shall I, for this face of snow provoke 
 A threatening ruin ? Out of foolish pity 
 For one that loves me not, drive from my heart, 
 The heart that loves me well ? 
 
 SENO. 
 
 What say st thou, Spartacus? 
 
THE GLADIATOR 387 
 
 SPART. 
 
 (Aside.) To save her girlish body from the shame, 
 Her baby bosom from the pang, to rescue 
 From a short dream of sorrow, one young fool 
 Out of the million millions of the mourning, 
 Kill mine own coming glory and the hopes 
 Of a wrong d world? 
 
 SENO. 
 I fear me, thou art angry. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Hark ye, my girl that fool that trembles yonder 
 
 SENO. 
 
 I pity her. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Dost thou indeed? And art thou 
 Assured she is worth thy pity? Were the world 
 A jot the worse, were she removed from it? 
 
 SENO. 
 
 Alas, you will not harm her? She has indeed 
 A kind and foolish heart. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Has she indeed ? 
 Well, she shall to her father. 
 
 SENO. 
 
 She has none. 
 
388 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SPART. 
 
 What, wife, an orphan? Now the incensed heaven 
 Smite my hard heart ! A poor and feeble child 
 Left struggling fatherless in the world, and I 
 Consent to wrong her! 
 
 SENO. 
 
 What is t you say? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Not I, 
 
 Though forty thousand unjust brothers storm d. 
 One day mine own child will be fatherless. 
 We ll ransome her. 
 
 SENO. 
 
 I m glad to hear you say so. 
 
 SPART. (To JULIA.) 
 
 What, foolish maid, why dost thou weep? Come, 
 
 smile, 
 
 I ll send thee to the praetor and the boy too. 
 I think twould break her heart to kill him. 
 
 (Enter PHASARIUS.) 
 
 Brother- 
 Brother, I hope thou hast forgot this folly. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 I claim the captive. 
 
 But not these twain. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Thou shalt have a thousand; 
 
THE GLADIATOR 389 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 I care not for the boy. 
 
 The girl is mine, captured by mine own hands; 
 Therefore mine own. 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Base caitiff ! 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Sirrah, begone. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Deny me her, and, by the fates, thou art 
 No longer brother of mine. Twas I that helped thee 
 To this high station ; and the troops thou rulest, 
 Are but my lending ; for that hour I leave thee, 
 They leave thee to. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Come, look me in the face, 
 And let me see how bad desires have changed thee. 
 
 PHAS. 
 I claim the captive. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Set thine eye on her: 
 Lo you, she weeps, and she is fatherless. 
 Thou wouldst not harm an orphan? What, I say, 
 Art thou, whom I have carried in my arms 
 To mountain-tops, to worship the great God, 
 Art thou a man to plot a wrong and sorrow 
 (And thou a man!) against a feeble orphan? 
 Wilt thou now ask her? 
 
390 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Ay. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Thou art a changeling ! 
 My father ne er begot so base a heart. 
 Brother, I do conjure thee, for I love thee, 
 Forget this thing. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Farewell. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Thou wilt not go? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Ay, by great Jove, I will. Play thou the tyrant 
 On those that follow thee. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 My younger brother : 
 Nay, I ll not call thee such, but a hot fool 
 And heartless enemy. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Call what thou wilt : 
 
 I am a man not to be mock d and wrong d, 
 Nor flouted in my counsels. I did ask you, 
 Now that you had the wind of the fooled praetor, 
 Now when rich Rome is emptied by her levies, 
 Now when the eager troops cry all, for Rome, 
 To march upon it, ere the joining armies 
 Of Pompey and Lucullus should prevent you. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 39* 
 
 This I did ask, and this you did deny, 
 Though, by a former promise, pledged thereto. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I promised not. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 By heaven, you did when stronger. 
 This you refuse; and when, forgiving this, 
 I ask my captive, you deny me her, 
 With many a sharp and contumelious word, 
 Such as is fitter for a dog than me. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Forgive me, if my anger used such shame; 
 I knew not what I said. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 March then to Rome. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 It cannot be. We should but set us down 
 Under her walls, where the three generals, 
 Ere we could force the gates, would hedge us in. 
 We cannot stand against them all even here; 
 But, when in Sicily, are invincible. 
 
 PHAS. 
 Rome, or the captive: no more Sicily. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 To Sicily: 
 
 There, by the ocean fenced, rouse up and gather 
 
 The remnants of those tribes by Rome destroyed, 
 
392 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Invited to their vengeance. Then will come, 
 
 Arm d with retributive and murderous hate, 
 
 The sons of fiery Afric, Carthaginians 
 
 Out of their caves, Numidians from their deserts; 
 
 The Gaul, the Spaniard, the Sardinian; 
 
 The hordes of Thessaly, Thrace, and Macedon, 
 
 And swarming Asia ; all at last assembled 
 
 In vengeful union gainst this hell of Rome. 
 
 Then may we crush, but now we crush ourselves. 
 
 Let us to Sicily. 
 
 PHAS. 
 Those that will. Farewell. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Will you desert me ? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 I did think thee meant 
 For the most godlike enterprise of earth : 
 Thou fail st. Farewell; protect thyself. 
 
 Remember Crixus. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Mad boy, 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 And his thousand Germans ! 
 
 I go with Gauls and Thracians, and fifty thousand. 
 A Roman girl was worth this coil ! Farewell : 
 Learn to be juster. 
 
 (Exity 
 
THE GLADIATOR 393 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Gone! Alas, alas, 
 
 Am I unjust ? I did not think my brother 
 Could e er desert me. 
 
 Spartacus 
 
 SPART. 
 
 ^Enomaiis, 
 Dost thou remain ? Why dost thou stay with me ? 
 
 For that I know thee wiser than thy brother. 
 I will stand, fight, or die with thee. But look; 
 If thou speak not, the army to a man, 
 Will follow this young madman. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Mad and ungrateful all ! Will none remain ? 
 
 SEND. 
 Beseech you, speak with them, my honoured husband. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 And he endanger d thee too ! By the heavens, 
 I ll ne er forgive him. Nay, go to your couch. 
 I ll speak with them. They will not all desert me. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
394 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SCENE II. TheCampofCRASSVS. Enter CRASSUS 
 and LENTULUS. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Thy son was kill d then ? I am sorry for him. 
 I heard, he bore him soldier-like, and I, 
 Upon this promise, did intend him favour. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 I know not that he certainly was killed ; 
 But, I thank Jove, he did not fly his post. 
 
 Enter BRACCHIUS. 
 
 CRASS. 
 What of the enemy? does he still approach? 
 
 BRAC. 
 No, he is flying. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Flying! thou art mad. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 That may be, for my slaves have ruined me. 
 Why should brains stick where gold will not ? 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Come, sirrah, 
 
 What didst thou mean by saying the foe fled ? 
 < How flies he? 
 
THE GLADIATOR 395 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 As a hound, that having coursed 
 A stinking brock, upon a sudden turns, 
 To chase a noble stag. Ourselves the badger, 
 And Rome the worthier quarry. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Tedious fool, > 
 What dost thou mean ? 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 That the fierce Gladiators 
 Instead of dinging us, as seemed designed, 
 Are now Upon the highway to the city. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 To Rome? 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Yes, flying to Rome. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Presumptuous fools ! 
 
 < Now may we build a forest of crucifixes. 
 Bid the men cast away their picks, and arm. > 
 We ll after them. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 I think there s some division 
 
 Among the leaders; for the herds afoot, 
 
 March in disorder. 
 
396 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Separated ! Jove, 
 
 I thank thee for this boon. Another Crixus! 
 To arms, I say. Send out the cavalry, 
 <To gain their flanks and front, letting them get 
 Beyond the leader s camp. > This is a triumph. 
 To arms, I say. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE III. The Camp of SPARTACUS. Enter 
 SPARTACUS and 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Seven thousand true? A handful, but enough, 
 Being staunch and prudent, for the enterprise. 
 Desert me! Well, well, well. Among the hills 
 Are many paths that may be safely trod ; 
 Whereby we ll gain the sea, and so pass o er 
 To safer Sicily. Perhaps I spoke 
 Too roughly, but no matter. Did you send 
 To hire the shipping of those pirates? Well. 
 And all prepared to march at nightfall? vEnomaiis, 
 Do you not think they ll beat him ? 
 
 I doubt it not; 
 Phasarius being a soldier, but no leader. 
 
 < SPART. 
 An excellent leader, but that he is rash. 
 
 That is the misery. He will fight you hotly 
 An army of lions ; but a troop of foxes 
 
THE GLADIATOR 397 
 
 May easily beat him. Now the praetor s brain 
 Is all o the fox s colour. > 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Well, I care not : 
 
 We will to Rhegium. Think you, ^Enomaiis, 
 I might not, while the praetor steals upon him, 
 Steal on the praetor, and so save the army? 
 What say st thou? 
 
 Hang them, no. This brings Lucullus 
 On our seven thousand. Let the mutineers 
 Look to themselves. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Right, very right, right, ^Enomaiis. 
 Let them look to themselves. He did desert me; 
 My father s son deserted me, and left me 
 Circled by foes. I say, tis very right. 
 < He shall no help from me; not though they beat 
 
 him 
 An hundred times; no, no, no help from me. > 
 
 Lo you, a messenger! 
 
 SPART. 
 From Phasarius! 
 
 Perhaps he is sorry. 
 
 Enter Jovius. 
 
398 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Chief, an embassy 
 From Crassus. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 And what would Crassus with the Gladiator, 
 The poor base slave, and fugitive, Spartacus? 
 Speak, Roman : wherefore does thy master send 
 Thy gray hairs to the cutthroat s camp? 
 
 JOV. 
 
 Brave rebel, 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Why that s a better name than a rogue or bondman; 
 But, in this camp, I am call d general. 
 
 jov. 
 
 Brave general ; for, though a rogue and bondman, 
 As you have said, I ll still allow you general, 
 As he that beats a consul surely is, 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Say two, two consuls; and to that e en add 
 A proconsul, three praetors, and some generals. 
 
 jov. 
 
 Why tis no more than true. Are you a Thracian ? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ay. 
 
 JOV. 
 
 There is something in the air of Thrace 
 Breeds valour up as rank as grass. Tis pity 
 You are a barbarian. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 399 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Wherefore ? 
 
 jov. 
 
 Had you been born 
 A Roman, you had won by this a triumph. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I thank the gods I am barbarian; 
 
 For I can better teach the grace-begot 
 
 And heaven-supported masters of the earth, 
 
 How a mere dweller of a desert rock 
 
 Can bow their crown d heads to his chariot wheels. 
 
 Man is heaven s work, and beggar s brats may herit 
 
 A soul to mount them up the steeps of fortune, 
 
 With regal necks to be their stepping-blocks. 
 
 But corne, what is thy message? 
 
 jov. 
 
 Julia, niece 
 O the praetor, is thy captive. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ay. 
 JOV. 
 
 For whom 
 
 Is offered in exchange thy wife, Senona, 
 And thy young boy. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Tell thou the praetor, Roman, 
 The Thracian s wife is ransomed. 
 
400 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 jov. 
 
 How is that? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 What ho, Senona! 
 
 (SENONA appears with the child at a tent door.} 
 
 Lo, she stands before you, 
 Ransomed, and by the steel, from out the camp 
 Of slaughtered Gellius. 
 
 (Exit SENONA.) 
 
 jov. 
 
 This is sorcery! 
 But name a ransome for the general s niece. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Have I not now the praetor on the hip ? 
 
 He would, in his extremity, have made 
 
 My wife his buckler of defence; perhaps 
 
 Have doomed her to the scourge! But this is Roman. 
 
 Now the barbarian is instructed. Look, 
 
 I hold the praetor by the heart; and he 
 
 Shall feel how tightly grip barbarian fingers. 
 
 jov. 
 
 Men do not war on women. Name her ransome. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Men do not war on women! Look you: 
 One day I clomb upon the ridgy top 
 Of the cloud-piercing Haemus, where, among 
 The eagles and the thunders, from that height, 
 I look d upon the world or, far as where, 
 
THE GLADIATOR 401 
 
 Wrestling with storms, the gloomy Euxine chafed 
 On his recoiling shores ; and where dim Adria 
 In her blue bosom quenched the fiery sphere. 
 Between those surges lay a land, might once 
 Have served for paradise, but Rome had made it 
 A Tartarus. In my green youth I look d 
 From the same frosty peak, where now I stood, 
 And then beheld the glory of those lands, 
 Where peace was tinkling on the shepherd s bell 
 And singing with the reapers ; < or beneath 
 The shade of thatch eaves, smiled with grey old men, 
 And with their children laughed along the green. > 
 Since that glad day, Rome s conquerors had past 
 With withering armies there, and all was changed: 
 Peace had departed ; howling war was there, 
 Cheered on by Roman hunters: then, methought, 
 Even as I looked upon the altered scene, 
 Groans echoed through the valleys, through which ran 
 Rivers of blood, like smoking Phlegethons; 
 Fires flashed from burning villages, and famine 
 Shriek d in the empty cornfields. Women and children, 
 Robb d of their sires and husbands, left to starve 
 These were the dwellers of the land ! Say st thou 
 Rome wars not then on women ? 
 
 JOV. 
 
 This is not to the matter. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Now, by Jove, 
 
 It is. These things do Romans. But the earth 
 Is sick of conquerors. There is not a man, 
 Not Roman, but is Rome s extremest foe; 
 26 
 
402 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 And such am I, sworn from that hour I saw 
 These sights of horror, while the gods support me, 
 To wreak on Rome such havock as Rome wreaks, 
 Carnage and devastation, wo and ruin. 
 Why should I ransome, when I swear to slay? 
 Begone: this is my answer! 
 
 <jov. 
 
 With your leave 
 
 This prattling scares no Romans ; and these threats 
 Come weakly from a chief of mutineers. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Of mutineers ? 
 
 jov. 
 
 Ay, marry, tis well known, 
 
 Your cutthroats have deserted you. Content you, 
 Crassus will punish the foul traitors. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Crassus ! 
 
 JOV. 
 
 Ay, Crassus. Hercules, how men will talk! 
 Wreak wo on Rome! I tell you, your lieutenant 
 Will hang upon a cross before the morrow. 
 So name your ransome, while tis offered you. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Begone, I say. 
 
 (Exit Jovius.) 
 Alas, my ^nomaiis, 
 
THE GLADIATOR 403 
 
 Should we not strike now? Now while we might fall 
 Upon their rear, and take them by surprise? 
 
 .ENO. 
 
 Let them be punished, castigated well, 
 And they ll return to wisdom and obedience. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Right, right. Let them be punished, hack d to the 
 
 bones : 
 
 This will speak better than my words. Prepare 
 For Rhegium. He ll return to us tomorrow. 
 
 (Exeunt.) > 
 
 END OF ACT IV. 
 
ACT V 
 
 SCENE I. The Peninsula of RHEGIUM. The Camp 
 of the Gladiators. Enter SPARTACUS and 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Routed and cut to pieces ! Said I not ? 
 Did I not tell them? Utterly destroyed! 
 Scattered like chaff ! Now by the eternal fates, 
 They did provoke high heaven, deserting me. 
 How many slain ? 
 
 JENO. 
 
 Indeed it is not known. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Many, I m glad; I should be very glad: 
 Did I not lead them ever on to victory ? 
 And did they not forsake me ? Wretched fools, 
 This was my vengeance, yea, my best of vengeance, 
 To leave them to themselves, that Roman praetors 
 Might whip them for me. Art thou not rejoiced? 
 Art thou not, ^Enomaiis, glad of this? 
 Glad, very glad ? 
 
 I shall be, when I see 
 Half of them back again. 
 
 404 
 
THE GLADIATOR 405 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I ll decimate them: 
 
 Even as the Romans punish, so I ll punish. 
 Ruin me all these grand and glorious hopes ? 
 Nay they were certainties. An excellent army, 
 That might have fought with Pompey, broke and 
 
 ruined 
 By their mad mutiny ! An excellent army - 
 
 /ENO. 
 Indeed, an excellent. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Foolish ^Enomaiis, 
 
 Why did st thou stay me, when I would have saved 
 them? 
 
 Had this been well? Had their ingratitude 
 Deserved it of thee ? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ay, ingratitude. 
 Did I oppress them ? Did I tyrannise ? > 
 
 .ENO. 
 
 Tis rumoured that Phasarius fell. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 My brother, 
 
 My foolish brother why did he part from me? 
 Nay, I ll not mourn him. 
 
406 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 This evil news must now 
 Hasten our embarkation. The pirate ships 
 Already are launching from the shore. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Why now 
 
 You are too fast. Bid them be beached again. 
 < Alas, that foolish boy ! We ll rest awhile, 
 And see what fugitives may come to us. > 
 Art sure Phasarius was slain ? the pride 
 Of his dead mother s heart; and, I do know, 
 Though prone to anger, of a loving spirit. 
 We ll rest awhile here on this promontory. 
 
 E,ach moment has a peril. For these pirates 
 They are most treacherous hounds, and may set sail 
 Without us ; and the praetor, thou know st well, 
 Is trenching us in on this peninsula. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 What care I for the praetor and his trenches ? 
 < This is a boy s trick, and a boy might meet it. > 
 Trenches to stop a Thracian ! Look you now 
 What drooping slave is that? By all the gods, 
 It is my brother! But I ll not be glad. 
 Lo you, how humbled, spiritless he looks ! 
 Where are his troops ? 
 
 (Enter PHASARIUS.) 
 
 Sirrah, why comest thou here? 
 Didst thou not part from me, and take mine army? 
 
THE GLADIATOR 407 
 
 Did st thou not teach my followers mutiny, 
 
 And lead them to destruction? Thou whipp d fool, 
 
 Why comest thou here? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 To ask thy pardon, and to die. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Couldst thou not die with those thou led st to death, 
 That men, who after should have called thee madman, 
 Might not have called thee craven ? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 I am no craven ; 
 A wretch, I grant you, but no craven. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Where are thy troops? that throng d and valiant 
 
 army 
 Thou stol dst from me? 
 
 I am alone of all. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 With Pluto. Why demand me? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Most wretched man, 
 
 Thou hast murder d fifty thousand men, destroyed 
 Thy brother and thy country, and all hope 
 Of the earth s disenthralment. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 I have ruined 
 My brother, that s enough. 
 
408 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ay, look, behold; 
 
 But yestermorn, I was a conqueror, 
 On the high verge and pinnacle of renown ; 
 Today a skulking, trembling, despised man, 
 Thrust in a pit. Whose traitorous hand was it, 
 Pluck d me from my high seat, and sunk so low ? 
 Who did this thing, this foul, felonious thing? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Myself, that was thy brother. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ay, that was ! 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Why shouldst thou stab me with thy words? O 
 
 brother, 
 
 Strike me with thy sharp sword, but speak no more : 
 Give me to punishment, or drive me forth 
 To die by Romans ; but upbraid no more. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Shall I forgive him? Look, he is penitent. 
 
 &NO. 
 
 But he has lost them all. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ay, so he has. 
 
 Ask st thou for pardon, when thou hast slain all? 
 Away ! thou didst discard me from thy heart : 
 I banish thee from mine. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 409 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 It is but just. 
 
 Why should I live, when I have ruined thee ? 
 I should have died before. Farewell. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Come back : 
 
 I will forgive thee: nay, I have. O brother, 
 Why didst thou do this wrong? But I ll forget it. 
 Let the ships now be launched, now, ^Enomaiis; 
 Now cross to Sicily. 
 
 (Exit ^ENOMAIIS.) 
 With these fifty thousand 
 But I ve forgot it. What, were all destroyed? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 All, all. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 A disciplined army! But no matter. 
 All slain upon the field? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Six thousand wretches 
 Yielded them prisoners to the praetor. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Well, 
 
 He took six thousand prisoners. These will now 
 Suffer a double wretchedness. 
 
 They will not. 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Never fear it : 
 
410 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SPART. 
 
 How is that, Phasarius? 
 Did not the praetor, in his proclamations, 
 Threat us with bondmen s deaths by crucifixion? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 And he will keep his word nay, he has kept it. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 What! 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Are men beasts, that life should count no more 
 Than a beast s sob? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Thou fill st my soul with terror. 
 Are they condemned? All? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Executed. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Horror ! 
 Six thousand men, and crucified! 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Crucified. 
 
 I saw a sight last night, that turned my brain, 
 And set my comrade mad. The Roman highway 
 Is, each side, lined with crosses, and on each cross 
 Is nailed a gladiator. Well, twas night, 
 When, with a single follower, I did creep 
 Through the trenched army to that road, and saw 
 
THE GLADIATOR 411 
 
 The executed multitude uplifted 
 
 Upon the horrid engines. Many lived : 
 
 Some moaned and writhed in stupid agony ; 
 
 Some howled, and prayed for death, and cursed the 
 
 gods; 
 
 Some turned to lunatics, and laughed at horror; 
 And some with fierce and hellish strength, had torn 
 Their arms free from the beams, and so had died, 
 Grasping, headlong, at air. And, oh the yells, 
 That rose upon the gusty sighs of night, 
 And babbled hideously along the skies, 
 As they were fill d with murder! 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Say no more: 
 
 This is too dreadful for man s ear. I swear 
 For this to make Rome howl. What, ^Enomaiis. 
 
 (Reenter 
 Are the ships all afloat? 
 
 And gone. 
 SPART. 
 
 What, gone? 
 
 These same perfidious pirates, with their hire, 
 Have set their sails, and fled. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 The ocean god 
 
 Meet them with hurricanes, sink their ships, and feed 
 Sea-monsters with their corses! 
 
412 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 All is finished: 
 This is the fruit of mercy for deserters. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Be that forgot. 
 
 .ENO. 
 
 What now remains for us, 
 But to sit down and die? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I ll tell thee, what: 
 To fight the praetor. 
 
 Though his troops outnumber 
 Ten times our own ! 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ay ; our despair will make us 
 Each ten times stronger than his foe. Fill up 
 This schoolboy ditch with disregarded plunder, 
 And when the watchdogs sleep, like wolves, steal on 
 
 them 
 
 And take them by the throat. I have no fear, 
 But we shall find a pathway through their camp. 
 Then to Tarentum; there we ll find us ships. 
 Or, if that fail, with a despairing fury, 
 Turn upon Rome, and perish there. 
 
 (Enter SENONA, with the child.) 
 
 What now? 
 
 Com st thou to mourn o er our mishaps, Senona? 
 Be not dismayed : I ll find thee safety yet. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 413 
 
 SENO. 
 
 Thou wouldst conceal these newer perils from me; 
 But well I know, that every hour now brings 
 A menacing cloud about thee. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Clouds, ay, clouds: 
 
 A cloud is on my path, but my ambition 
 Sees glory in t : as travellers who stand 
 On mountains, view upon some neighbouring peak, 
 Among the mists, a figure of themselves, 
 Traced in sublimer characters ; so I 
 Here see the vapory image of myself, 
 Distant and dim, but giantlike I ll make 
 These perils glories. 
 
 SENO. 
 
 And the ships have left thee? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Thou art a soldier s wife, and wilt not tremble 
 To share his danger. Look, through yonder camp 
 Our path lies. 
 
 SENO. 
 I will walk it by thy side. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Not so; for though unharmed by steel, the sight 
 Of the near fray would kill thee. I have discovered 
 A path almost unguarded ; where, whilst I 
 Assault the Roman in his sleep, thyself 
 And my war-cradled boy, with my Phasarius 
 To guard thee, shall in safety pass, and join me 
 After the battle. 
 
414 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SENO. 
 
 Why not lead your army 
 By that unguarded path? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Trust me, dear wife, 
 
 I ll make it such for thee, but cannot have it 
 Safe for an army. The surprised distraction 
 Of the attack will call the guards away. 
 This is the safest. 
 
 SENO. 
 
 Let me go with thee. 
 I do not fear the horrors of the storm. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 It cannot be. What, brother 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Let some one else 
 
 Be made her guard; while I, in fight, find vengeance, 
 And reparation of my faults. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Wilt thou 
 Refuse me this, Phasarius? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Am not I 
 
 A rash and witless fool ? Trust not to me 
 What thou so valuest. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 415 
 
 SENO. 
 
 I beseech you, hear him. 
 Let me not leave you, Spartacus : my heart 
 Is full of dismal and of ominous fear, 
 If I do leave you now, I leave for ever. 
 If I must die, let me die where thou art. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Why talk st thou now of death? I say, I ll make 
 This path most safe for thee. How could I fight, 
 Or play the leader in a bloody storm, 
 With thy pale visage ever in my eye? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 I do beseech you, make not me her guard. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 It must be so. And hear me now, Phasarius; 
 I put into thy hands more than my soul : 
 See, my dear wife, and here my innocent boy. 
 These are the very jewels of my heart. 
 Protect them for me. Be not rash; steal softly, 
 With the small faithful troop I ll send with thee, 
 Through glens and woods; and when the alarm is 
 
 sounded, 
 
 March fast but wisely. For thy life, and mine, 
 Avoid all contest, shouldst thou meet a foe; 
 Nay, though thou know st thou hast advantage, fight 
 
 not. 
 
 Join me, with these in safety, and assure me 
 No man has drawn his sword. And now farewell. 
 
416 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Farewell, Senona: I pray you do not speak. 
 Thou art very safe. Farewell. 
 
 (Exeunt SENONA, child, and PHASARIUS.) 
 
 He is too rash. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Rash, had I given him a command in battle; 
 But will not be with them. Rouse up the troops. 
 Fill up the ditch with baggage, as I told thee. 
 < I ll see that all be schooled for this assault. > 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE II. Before the tent of CRASSUS. Enter 
 CRASSUS, MUMMIUS, Jovius, LENTULUS and BRAC- 
 CHIUS. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Now I lament me, on this overthrow 
 
 Of the chief army of the enemy, 
 
 I prayed for Pompey and Lucullus. If 
 
 I end not instant, by another blow, 
 
 The war I have so maimed, comes me a colleague 
 
 To chouse me of my triumphs. 
 
 jov. 
 
 You must be quick then. 
 
 The dawn will show you Pompey by your side; 
 Or rather, dashing with a Roman scorn, 
 Amongst the ruffians you have trapp d. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 417 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 I think, 
 
 Ourselves may do it. And this hell-dog holds 
 The girl to doom? 
 
 jov. 
 
 He says, he is instructed 
 By your fore-thought intentions with his spouse. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 But dost thou think he ll slay her? 
 
 jov. 
 
 Not while he 
 May purchase mercy with her. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Shall I take her 
 
 Out of his camp by force? or send thee back, 
 To offer mercy and receive submission ? 
 
 jov. 
 
 Propose him life and liberty, and make him 
 A Roman citizen. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 What, a rebel slave! 
 
 jov. 
 
 In these rough, rotten times, we do not scruple 
 To raise our rogues to honour. Why then blush, 
 To anoint a slave, that s capable and honest? 
 
 27 
 
418 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 The genius of this Thracian, had it been 
 In honourable trust display d, had quell d 
 A score of barbarous nations; and may yet, 
 Make but the man a Roman. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 We will make him 
 A captive first. Were my poor Julia free! 
 
 (Loud alarums.) 
 What is the matter? 
 
 JOV. 
 
 The rats are out ! By Jove, 
 The slaves have pass d the trenches, and assault us ! 
 
 CRASS. 
 Thou art mad! They dare not What, to arms, to 
 
 arms! 
 Nay, if they will, let them into the camp, 
 
 But let not out. To arms, to arms! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE III. Another part of the Roman Camp. 
 Enter CRASSUS, Jovius, MUMMIUS, and LENTULUS. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Mischiefs and plagues, and slavish stripes disgrace 
 These shameless cowards ! What, ope their ranks, and 
 
 give 
 A path to these few madmen ! Let them scape us ! 
 
 JOV. 
 
 Nay, they are gone, that s certain, but will drop 
 Into the jaws of Pompey. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 419 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Bid the legions 
 Follow them. 
 
 jov. 
 
 When the day breaks; but not now. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Shall I let Pompey take them, and have Rome 
 Laugh at my shame ? Have Pompey join the scorners, 
 And mock me too ? Hie thee away, good Jovius; 
 Follow the Thracian; offer pardon, freedom, 
 Whate er thou wilt. Do but delay his march : 
 Let him not come near Pompey Quick, away! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE IV. The Camp of SPARTACUS, among the 
 hills. Enter SPARTACUS and 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Was not this well? When desperate men contend, 
 The brave will fly from them. To fight for life, 
 Fights surest for a victory. Fought we well ? 
 I would not give these seven thousand poor rogues, 
 For a whole herd of angry Gauls. We ll win 
 The highway to Tarentum yet. Lieutenant, 
 Should they not now be here ? 
 
 Who? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Who ! Phasarius 
 And his care-chosen guard my brother and my wife. 
 
420 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 &NO. 
 
 They tread a rough and tangled path. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Tis true; 
 
 And finding there more guards than I had word of, 
 Their caution journeys them the slower. I 
 Am almost grieved, I brought them not with me. 
 How fare the captives? Bring me to Tarentum, 
 I ll send that girl unransomed to the praetor. 
 Would they were here! Bring in the prisoner, 
 And find how march the coming generals. 
 
 (BRACCHIUS is brought in, guarded.) 
 
 This fellow was the master of thy brother. 
 Question him, and then hang him, for a baser, 
 More heartless master never yet struck slave. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I am sick of blood. Is not the sun yet up ? 
 
 If they be seen but I ll not think of that. 
 
 Be not afeard: hadst thou been worth a blow, 
 
 I had not spared thee. Speak, and truly speak, 
 
 Or thou shalt fat the kites : When looks the praetor 
 
 For Pompey and his Spanish troops ? 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 He looks 
 Not for, but at him. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Wretch 
 
THE GLADIATOR 421 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 And so may st them, 
 Yonder among the heights upon thy left. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Wretch, if thou mock me, I will strike thee dead. 
 Know I not well the praetor s craft? These eagles 
 That spread their golden pinions on the hills, 
 Were wing d by Crassus thither, to affright me. 
 Are they not Crassus s standards ? Own me that, 
 Or look tonight to sup in Acheron. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 To sup on earth, then, I ll agree to this; 
 But I shall lie. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Rogue, answer me again: 
 Are those troops Pompey s. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Ay. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 The gods forbid! 
 
 They are in motion too ! Now I begin 
 To feel my desolation, and despair. 
 What, ^Enomaiis, send me out a scout 
 To view those hill-perched foes, and quick prepare 
 The army for the march. And my poor wife! 
 Why did I trust her with Phasarius? 
 < Send out a cunning guide to hunt the path. > 
 
 (Exit /ENOMAIIS.) 
 
422 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Roman, if thou speak false, I ll have thee slain. 
 Where rests Lucullus ? 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 In no place he rests, 
 Save nightly on the highroad from Tarentum. 
 
 <SPART. 
 
 Villain, thou liest ! The gods have not so left me. 
 I say, thou speak st not true. 
 
 BRAC. 
 
 Well, I speak false; 
 
 But notwithstanding, he is on that road. 
 These are the bloodiest cutthroats! > 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Now, out on me, 
 
 My heart is full of fear. The praetor on my rear, 
 Lucullus, Pompey on my front and left, 
 And naught but howling seas upon my right ! 
 Seven thousand men against an hundred thousand ! 
 If Crassus love the girl He fears disgrace 
 Tis not infeasible unless, alas, 
 My wife, perchance, be fain into his hands; 
 Then can the maiden buy me naught but her. 
 
 (Reenter ^ENOMAIIS, with Jovius.) 
 
 JENO. 
 
 The Roman praetor 
 Sends thee again an envoy. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 423 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Speak, centurion; 
 What word sends Crassus? 
 
 jov. 
 
 For the Roman lady, 
 A princely ransome; for thyself, an offer 
 Of mercy, pardon, Roman denization, 
 And martial honour and command ; provided 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ay, provided! 
 
 jov. 
 
 Thou instantly, ere Pompey leave the hills, 
 
 Surrender up these malefactious slaves 
 
 To whips and crosses. Therefore, most valiant 
 
 Thracian, 
 
 Put by the frenzy, that would fight against 
 Three circling armies, and accept this boon 
 Generous and great. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I am unfortunate, 
 
 Thou know st that well; but not being Roman yet, 
 I scorn the foul condition, that makes me 
 To my true friends a traitor. Give them freedom, 
 And they lay down their arms; but talk of crosses, 
 And they have yet the arms that cut a path 
 Through the proud praetor s camp. 
 
 jov. 
 
 Why shouldst thou care, 
 Thou, who hast such a Roman soul, for these 
 
424 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Vile runagate rogues, who, at an opportunity, 
 Thee would betray as freely as their masters ? 
 Let them be hanged, and be thou made a Roman. 
 Perhaps thy word may save the least offending; 
 But let the scum be punished. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 They shall die, 
 
 Like soldiers, on the field, or live in freedom. 
 
 But hearken, Roman: 
 
 I know the praetor, that he loves his niece, 
 
 But honour more; I know, if Pompey strike 
 
 At me one blow, the honour all is his, 
 
 And nothing left for Crassus, but comparison 
 
 Betwixt what Pompey does, and what he could not. 
 
 He will not then have Pompey strike me, and 
 
 He would have back his niece. While I lie here 
 
 On this impregnable and forted hill, 
 
 Pompey approaches and sits down beside him. 
 
 Now he ll consent himself to lose the honour 
 
 O the hunted gladiator s overthrow, 
 
 So Pompey wins it not. 
 
 jov. 
 
 That may be true, 
 
 For Crassus loves not Pompey. But on that 
 What project found you? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 This: Let him but wink, 
 While I steal darkly to Tarentum, there 
 T embark my army. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 425 
 
 jov. 
 
 * Hah! 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I ll find a way 
 
 To cozen Pompey and pass by Lucullus, 
 Provided he not follow at my heels. 
 Gage me but this, and he shall have his niece 
 Unransomed back; deny me, and by Pluto, 
 Pompey alone shall gain the laurel. 
 
 jov. 
 
 Jove! 
 
 This is a mad proposal. Help you fly! 
 Will you surrender, or be cut to pieces ? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Bring forth the captives. 
 
 (JULIA and FLORUS are brought in.} 
 
 Lo, I ll march tonight: 
 If Crassus follow me, the girl shall die. 
 
 jov. 
 
 Art thou a savage? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Ay; or if you will, 
 
 A beast, whose nature not being fierce, the hunters 
 Have toil d and goaded into fury. Nature 
 Makes fewer rogues, than misery. But yesterday, 
 I had saved that maiden s blood, at cost of mine; 
 
426 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Now, with a cool ferocity, I doom her 
 To perish like a thing abhorred, whene er 
 The praetor bids me. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 Out, alas, alas! 
 
 Didst thou not swear thou wouldst not harm my life ? 
 Thou didst, unto thy wife. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Well, speak not of it. 
 She is surely taken. Roman, listen to me: 
 South of thy camp there liest a secret path, 
 Where, for a certain reason, I did send 
 A party, to escape the fears of conflict. 
 
 Have they been captured ? 
 
 i 
 
 jov. 
 
 I know not, but think so. 
 Who were they? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Well, they are not taken then ? 
 
 jov. 
 
 I ll not say that. A double guard was sent, 
 Under your one time master, Lentulus, 
 Last night, to watch that path. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I have some prisoners, 
 I would exchange for them Look, all but her. 
 
 jov. 
 But who were these? 
 
THE GLADIATOR 427 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Some women and children. Yes, 
 Some helpless fools, not fit to look on battle. 
 Not that I care for them; but I ll exchange them. 
 
 jov. 
 
 Some women and children? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Sirrah, wilt thou have it? 
 
 Why twas my wife then, and my child. If they 
 Be captured, I ll exchange them for my captives. 
 Crassus shall have his niece too. Nay, I ll send her, 
 Without the exchange, provided Crassus swear 
 To give them freedom, and send back to Thrace. 
 Let him swear this : let them to Thrace, I say, 
 Let them be safe, and I can die. (Alarums.) 
 
 Look, general! 
 We are attacked! 
 
 SPART. 
 
 By heavens, a troop of horse 
 
 Rushing against our hill ! Why these are madmen ? 
 Soft you, they chase some mounted fugitive; 
 Nay, he has cleared them Look, man look! O gods, 
 Do I not know him? 
 
 jov. 
 
 For this proposed exchange; 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Look, look ! Tis he ! They are lost ! 
 
428 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 His horse has fallen : 
 He is bloody too. 
 
 SPART. 
 But where are they? 
 
 (Enter PHASARIUS, wounded.} 
 
 What, brother, brother, 
 Speak, speak. Where are they? Ah! 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 My brother ! 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Speak! 
 
 Dost thou not know me? By thy soul, I charge thee, 
 Speak to me; tell me of my love, my boy! 
 Where hast thou left them? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Strike me to the heart: 
 
 I have robbed thee, brother, of much more than life; 
 And all the blood these gaping wounds have left, 
 Will not repay thee. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Art thou mad ? 
 
 I ask thee of my wife, my boy, my loves ! 
 And thou dost prate to me of wounds and blood ! 
 Speak! 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 I can better speak than thou canst hear. 
 Why madest thou me their escort? Why, fool ! 
 
THE GLADIATOR 429 
 
 Thou should st have known that I would quickly lead 
 
 them 
 
 Through the first perils that invited me ; 
 And where a Roman throat was to be cut, 
 Would drag them to the hideous spectacle. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 But thou did st bear them off! Come, say it, brother; 
 Thou wert imprudent, but still kind and true. 
 I ll not be angry come, I know thou wert worsted, 
 Thy troops cut off but thou hast saved them, brother ! 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 I would have done it, let my wounds speak for me. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 They are captives then? O traitor! my poor wife, 
 And my blithe boy ! 
 
 The boy 
 
 PHAS. 
 The troops were cut to pieces; 
 
 SPART. 
 
 What of him? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Cried for mercy to 
 
 A Roman soldier 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Who spared him! 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 Struck him to the earth. 
 
430 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SPART. 
 
 God! And his mother? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 She sprang upon the throat of the black monster 
 Ask me no more I faint. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 My wife! my wife! 
 
 Let furies lash thee into consciousness. 
 My wife, I say! She sprang upon his throat; 
 What then? 
 
 PHAS. 
 
 He slew her but I clove him to the nave. 
 I could not save, but with my best avenged. 
 
 (Falls.) 
 
 SPART. 
 
 There are no gods in heaven; 
 
 Pity has fled, and human rage reigns there. 
 
 Wretch, doth the earth still hold thee? Murderer, 
 
 Most traitorous, foul, unnatural murderer, 
 
 If the warm blood of thy thrice-martyred victims 
 
 Reach not thy soul, and strike it dead within thee, 
 
 My sword shall sacrifice thee to their fury. 
 
 Hold, hold! Thou wilt not strike him? Look, he 
 dies! 
 
 (PHASARIUS dies.) 
 
THE GLADIATOR 431 
 
 SPART. 
 
 What, is he dead? All dead? and I alone 
 
 Upon the flinty earth ? No wife, no child, 
 
 [No brother] All slain by Romans ? Yes, by Romans. 
 
 Look, 
 
 I will have vengeance, fierce and bloody vengeance, 
 Upon the praetor s blood, upon the praetor s. 
 Thou grey and hoary wretch, for being Roman, 
 A wretch thou art I ll send back to the praetor 
 His niece a corse, and thou shalt carry her. 
 What ho, my Guards ! 
 
 (Enter Guards.) 
 
 jov. 
 
 Savage fiend, forbear; 
 Shed not the blood o the innocent. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 < Foolish man, > 
 
 Was not Senona s innocent, and my child s? 
 Did they e er harm a Roman? Blood for blood, 
 And life for life, and vengeance on the praetor! 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 Unhappy Spartacus, mar not thy glory 
 With this unnatural and unjust deed. 
 Let my head fall for her s. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Thy head and her s 
 < Fools, ye are Romans, and shall die. 
 
 jov. 
 
 Forbear > 
 
432 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Take them away 
 
 JUL. 
 
 Now may the heavens forgive thee. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Off, foolish girl ; there is no pity left : 
 
 My heart now thirsts for blood, and blood will have. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 I have your promise 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Breath, that I revoke. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 I have Senona s; pity me for her, 
 For she did love me; pity for your child, 
 Whom I have nestled in my arms, till it 
 Did love me too, and thou, whilst looking on, 
 Didst swear no harm should ever reach to me. 
 Yes, for thy babe and wife, thou didst swear this; 
 And while thou think st of them, thou canst not kill 
 me. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Well, thou art saved. 
 
 jov. 
 
 Wilt thou, unlucky chief, 
 
 Now claim the praetor s mercy? Let thy people 
 Return to bonds, and have their lives. 
 
THE GLADIATOR 433 
 
 SPART. 
 
 These twain 
 
 Shall go with you ; the rest is for my vengeance. 
 To show thee that the Thracian still defies, 
 Even in his hour of misery and despair, 
 Still cries for vengeance, still derides the mercy 
 Of the accursed Roman, thou shalt see 
 I court his fury. Hang this Roman cutthroat 
 Upon a cross, and set it where the Romans 
 May see him perish. 
 
 (BRACCHIUS is taken out; and the body of PHASARIUS.) 
 
 jov. 
 
 This will steel all hearts, 
 And change all pity into murderous hate. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 It is for that I hang him to the tree : 
 
 There shall no life be spared in fight today. 
 
 Look let the grooms there kill my horse. Tis done: 
 
 There shall no flight be known; nothing but death. 
 
 Begone, centurion and prisoners. Begone or perish. 
 
 <FLOR. 
 
 I thought thee cruel, but I find thee kind. 
 Spare that man, and accept the praetor s pardon. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Begone, thou foolish boy, while yet thou may st. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 Shall I not thank thee, Thracian, for my life? 
 28 
 
434 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Begone, or die, and all the hearted griefs, 
 
 That rack more bitterly than death, go with you, 
 
 And reach your abhorred country: May the gods, 
 
 Who have seen Rome fill the earth with wo and death, 
 
 Bring worse than wo and death on Rome; light up 
 
 The fires of civil war and anarchy, 
 
 Curse her with kings, imperial torturers; 
 
 And while these rend her bowels, bring the hosts 
 
 Of Northern savages, to slay, and feed 
 
 Upon her festering fatness; till the earth, 
 
 Shall know, as it has known no land so great, 
 
 No land so curst as miserable Rome! 
 
 Begone, or perish. > 
 
 (Exeunt Jovius, JULIA and FLORUS.) 
 
 Let the troops array. 
 And all that would not die upon the cross, 
 Slaying their horses, to the plain descend, 
 And die in battle. 
 
 You will not fight today ? 
 
 SPART. 
 
 This day, this hour, this minute, fight and die. 
 Why should we struggle longer, in this dream 
 Of life, which is a mocking lunacy, 
 With ever sunshine playing far ahead, 
 But thunderbolts about us? Fight I say. 
 There is no Orcus blacker than the hell 
 That life breeds in the heart. > 
 
THE GLADIATOR 435 
 
 Alas, dear general, 
 
 You are not fit for battle. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Fit to make 
 
 The Roman mothers howl. Spare not one life; 
 Shed blood, and laugh; and if ye meet a woman 
 Hiding her babe in her scared bosom, slay her, 
 Slay both. O ^Enomaiis, but to think 
 How lone I stand now on this pitiless earth ! 
 Had I not parted with them! O ye heavens, 
 Could ye look on and see the merciless steel 
 Struck at their sinless hearts ? 
 
 Alas, alas, 
 Give not this way to grief. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 I will not, brother; 
 My grief is blackened into scowling vengeance. > 
 
 Pray you, come to your tent. 
 
 SFART. 
 
 To tents no more; 
 
 I couch no more but on the corse-strown plain, 
 Draw out the troops I say, upon the ground, 
 Pillow d on death; thus shall my slumbers be. 
 Come, battle, battle. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
436 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SCENE V. The Camp of GRASSES. Enter CRASSUS, 
 MUMMIUS, Jovius, LENTULUS, FLORUS, etc. Alarums. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Thus ends rebellious rage in lunacy; 
 
 Despair hath set the gladiator mad. 
 
 Look, how with wild and impotent wrath, he rushes 
 
 Upon our ready spearmen! Lentulus, 
 
 I am sorry thou didst slay his family. 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Nay, twas not I. Perhaps, / am not sorry; 
 They were my slaves, punish d as fugitives. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Detach the third rank and the cavalry, 
 
 On all sides to surround them. Take them prisoners : 
 
 This soldier death befits them not. Ten thousand 
 
 Greek drachmae to the man that brings alive 
 
 The leader Spartacus. 
 
 (Exit LENTULUS.) 
 
 <jov. 
 
 That ne er will be. 
 
 He slew his horse, and thus rejecting flight, 
 His life devoted to the infernal gods. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 A valiant madman! Had he held my girl 
 Nay, but I should have storm d his mountain camp. 
 Look, moves not Pompey from the hills ? What, friends, 
 Shall we stand staring at this handful foes, 
 Till Pompey comes to help us ? To the front, 
 Away, to the front! (Exeunt.) > 
 
THE GLADIATOR 437 
 
 SCENE VI. Another part of the same. Enter 
 SPARTACUS, ^ENOMAIIS, and others. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Leave slaying in the ranks, and rush with me 
 Even to the forum and praetorium, 
 To strike the officers. 
 
 See, the troops of Pompey, 
 Are following on our rear ! 
 
 SPART. 
 
 What care I for the rear? I see alone 
 The inviting vengeance beck ning to the front, 
 Where flows the blood that Rome may bitterest mourn. 
 Let me beside the praetor. Mark, no prisoners; 
 Kill, kill, kill all! There s nothing now but blood 
 Can give me joy. Now can I tell how gore 
 Inspires the thirsty tiger, and gives strength 
 Unto the fainting wolf. No prisoners ! 
 On to the general ! > 
 
 (Enter LENTULUS, with others.) 
 
 LENT. 
 
 Lo, the bloody chief! 
 Now yield thee, villain. 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Murder-spotted fiend, 
 
 Thou led st the band that slew my wife and boy ! 
 Kill, kill, kill all! 
 
 (He kills LENTULUS, and exit with the rest fighting.) 
 
438 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SCENE VII. The pr&torium. Enter CRASSUS, 
 Jovius, JULIA, etc. 
 
 CRASS. 
 Get thee away; thou wilt be slain. 
 
 JUL. 
 
 I fear not : 
 
 Let me look on the battle, and perhaps 
 Return the gift of life to Spartacus. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Pr ythee, retire. This man has won more honour. 
 Than even the braggart Pompey ; for all ages 
 Shall own there needed two united armies 
 To quell him, yea, two Roman armies. 
 What now ? Why fliest thou ? 
 
 (Enter FLORUS.) 
 
 FLOR. 
 
 He has broken through 
 
 The second rank. Give me more troops, and fresh, 
 To venge my father s death. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Nay, tarry here, 
 
 And mark, how like the timbers of a ship, 
 Crushed in the mighty seas, the sundered wrecks 
 Of this rebellion vanish from our eyes. 
 
 SPART. 
 (Within.) On to the general! 
 
THE GLADIATOR 439 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 What is that cry? 
 
 This is a victory, but Pompey shares it. 
 What rout is this here at our tents? By heaven, 
 My guards are reeling in confusion ! Lo, 
 What man is this, unbuckler d and unhelm d, 
 Gored with a thousand deaths, that waves so wildly. 
 A broken weapon? 
 
 (Enter SPARTACUS, wounded, etc.) 
 
 SPART. 
 
 All is lost; but cry 
 Victory! On: I ll reach the general. 
 
 CRASS. 
 
 Smite him! tis Spartacus. 
 
 (SPARTACUS is wounded by several.) 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Hah! Victory! 
 
 Crassus, thou diest! I know thee very well. 
 Romans are straws. No prisoners. Naught but 
 
 blood. 
 Why should there be night now ? 
 
 (He falls.) 
 
 JUL. 
 
 O dear uncle, strike not. 
 Let him be spared. He gave me life. Alas, 
 He dies, he dies ! 
 
440 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SPART. 
 
 Well never heed the tempest- 
 There are green valleys in our mountains yet. 
 Set forth the sails. We ll be in Thrace anon. 
 
 (Die*.) 
 
 <CRASS. 
 
 Thy bark is wreck d, but nobly did she buffet 
 These waves of war, and grandly lies at last, 
 A stranded ruin on this fatal shore. 
 Let him have burial; not as a base bondman, 
 But as a chief enfranchised and ennobled. 
 If we denied him honour while he lived, 
 Justice shall carve it on his monument. > 
 
 (Dead March, etc. Curtain.} 
 
 THE END. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 
 
 The following text of Oralloossa is based on a 
 complete autograph manuscript in the Library 
 of the University of Pennsylvania. The Bird 
 papers contain another complete rough draft of 
 the play in the author s hand. The text has also 
 been collated with the " skeleton script" 1 in the 
 Edwin Forrest Home at Holmesburg, Pennsyl 
 vania. Additions found in the acting version 
 have been indicated by square brackets; and 
 deletions of word, line, or scene have been marked 
 thus:<> 
 
 Oralloossa was finished in February, 1832. It 
 was first produced October 10, 1832, at the Arch 
 Street Theater, Philadelphia, Edwin Forrest play 
 ing the chief part, for whom it was written as 
 Bird s third prize play. 
 
 1 "Skeleton script" is an actor s term for a manuscript that 
 omits the part of the protagonist. The Holmesburg MS. gives 
 only cues from the speeches of Oralloossa; cuts in that part have 
 accordingly not been indicated. 
 
 441 
 
ORALLOOSSA 
 
 SON OF THE INCAS 
 
 A TRAGEDY 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, FEBRUARY, 1832 
 
 443 
 
ORALLOOSSA 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED 
 
 FRANCISCO PIZARRO, Viceroy of Peru. 
 
 FRANCISCO <DE> ALCANTARA, his maternal uncle. 
 
 CARVAHAL, a Chamberlain. 
 
 DIEGO DE ALMAGRO, son of ALMAGRO the Conqueror. 
 
 CHRISTOVAL, his Cousin 1 
 
 SOTELA > Friends of Almagro. 
 
 JUAN, and others ) 
 
 VACA DE CASTRO, a Judge of the Court of Royal Audience , 
 
 afterwards Viceroy. 
 A Friar, Gentlemen, Soldiers, &c. 
 MANCO, Inca of Peru. 
 ORALLOOSSA, his nephew, son of ATAHUALPA, and 
 
 rightful Inca. 
 
 Peruvian Chiefs and Soldiers. 
 OOALLIE, a Coy a, or Daughter of the Incas, sister of 
 
 ORALLOOSSA. 
 
 A Spanish female Attendant, &c. 
 SCENE. Lima, and the neighbouring Country. l 
 
 1 The acting version adds: 
 ist Peruvian Chief. 
 2d Peruvian Chief. 
 Gonzalo De Cordova, an Almagrist. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 
 ACT I 
 
 SCENE I, A hall in the VICEREGAL PALACE. Enter 
 ALCANTARA and DE CASTRO. 
 
 DE CASTRO. 
 
 You tell me strange things. By Saint Anthony, 
 
 This glorious region, which, when first I left it, 
 
 <With treasures and despatches for old Spain, > 
 
 Seemed in mine, eyes the proper paradise, 
 
 Your crazy quarrels have transformed to hell : 
 
 Your leaders turn d to enemies those Conquerors, 
 
 Whose deeds of fame had set the world agape, 
 
 Now changed to currish combatants, Almagro, 
 
 <For so the winged story flies to Spain, > 
 
 Dead by Pizarro s hands ; his followers 
 
 Leagued gainst Pizarro in hot insurrection ; 
 
 The pagans rising from their servitude, 
 
 And smiting both Now, by my loyalty, 
 
 These things will bring your great ones to disgrace, 
 
 Those that they bring not to the block. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Great sir, 
 
 The true are safe. You have not yet been told, 
 What plots, and treasons, and rebellious war 
 
 445 
 
446 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Against our Viceroy, and, through him, our king, 
 Begot these grievous troubles. How Almagro 
 Turned a malicious traitor, and so won 
 A traitor s death, shall be hereafter rendered 
 In full to you, if rightly rumour speaks you, 
 And your authority. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 And what says rumour 
 
 Of a poor Judge o th Audience? <Sir, you stare 
 With an obsequious wonder, that would raise me 
 Into more high and proud authority 
 Than that I bear. > 
 
 ALC. 
 
 It has been whispered, senor, 
 You bring a patent, that will seat you in 
 The Chair o the Viceroy. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Sir, a Judge appointed 
 To aid your ruler, not to supersede him ; 
 < To judge of present troubles, not to move him 
 By questioning of those already past;> 
 To quell those spirits that aim at hateful rule, 
 Since, gorged with treasure, their ambition points 
 A loftier path than that their avarice trod. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 These have been quelled, and by the Viceroy s arm. 
 Tis true, some spirits of Almagro s faction 
 Still vex us, but not fright, some desperadoes, 
 That would make head around Almagro s son, 
 But that our eye restrains them. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 447 
 
 DECAST. 
 
 But the Indians, 
 Their mountain risings? 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Sir, a fabrication 
 
 Of the Almagrists, (So the Viceroy notes me;) 
 They ll smart for it a knavish stratagem, 
 To fright our war worn Governor from the ease 
 Of his rich palace, to the dangerous toil 
 Of mountain marches; where, instead of foes, 
 Headed by their dead master, Oralloossa, 
 He finds our slaves submissive and contented. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 But wherefore spake they of this Oralloossa, 
 Whose name, me thought, made armed veterans shake, 
 And even their leaders show a face of terror ? 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Because they knew, the sudden resurrection 
 Of this dead savage would more convulse the land 
 Than spouting volcano ; and more quickly lead 
 Pizarro forth than even the Inca Manco, 
 With all his armies; and thus give them scope 
 For mischief in his absence. For this knave 
 Was son to the hang d Inca, Atahualpa, 
 And crowned his successor; and, in a reign 
 Of some few months, when he raised up the signal 
 Of murder and rebellion, proved himself 
 Valiant, and bold, and wise beyond his nation. 
 < Millions of brown barbarians join d his standard, 
 And fear beset us in our citadels : 
 
448 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Scarce could our strongest garrisons resist him; > 
 And, with his war- word ringing in our ears, 
 Extermination for the Whites, he rush d 
 Like a swoll n torrent, roaring from the hills, 
 Upon our fear-throng d city. At that moment, 
 When all looked but for death, a mystery 
 Ended his course of marvels; the red meteor 
 Rose, glared and vanish d Oralloossa fell 
 No man knew how; but, it was much suspected, 
 Foully cut off by his ambitious uncle, 
 The present Inca. The danger died with him : 
 Manco had not the affections of his people. 
 Some still are here who speak of Oralloossa, 
 And nod their heads o er his unfathomed fate, 
 And doubt his death; and on that doubt, Almagro 
 Built up his vain device. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Tis a strange story. 
 
 ORALLOOSSA 
 
 ( Within.) Ha, ha ! O brave ! Another moon or two ! 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 What voice i. c that ? 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Tis Pedro s, the Peruvian, 
 Pizarro s favourite and most loving slave; 
 <As strange a man as one e er met withal. > 
 He has grown mad to learn our Spanish arts, 
 Is an excellent and exemplary Christian, 
 And hates his countrymen for their ignorance. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 449 
 
 He has learned to forge out iron into blades, 
 And has a pistol of his workmanship: 
 He writes and reads, curbs in the boldest steed, 
 Tilts like a hero, trains Pizarro s guard; 
 Is a most cunning spy, a snake in craft 
 A treacherous foe, but ever constant friend; 
 And hath a marvellous subtle wit. His cunning 
 Did more than other s bravery, to subdue 
 The hot Almagro. 
 
 ORALLOOSSA 
 
 ( Within) Brave ! Brave ! 
 
 How now, Pedro ? 
 
 ALC. 
 
 (Enter ORALLOOSSA, as PEDRO, with a firelock.) 
 What means this triumph ? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Honourable lord ! 
 
 Grant me your gracious pardon: I must laugh! 
 Who would have thought poor Pedro s poorer skill 
 Should venture on the white man s godlike craft, 
 And make that weapon, which makes Spaniards gods ! 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Thank the saints, who have drawn you from the 
 
 darkness 
 
 Of heathen ignorance, to enlighten you; 
 And thank your noble master, who permits you, 
 Against all policy, to be thus instructed. 
 
 29 
 
450 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Oh, I do thank him; but his benefits 
 Make dumb my gratitude. I cannot think 
 Of all he has done for me, his humblest slave, 
 But my heart burns to find a recompense. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Sir, he speaks true ; he is the lovingest knave 
 
 Was ever mind-enthralled. Some think him crazed 
 
 In the affection that he bears Pizarro, 
 
 <He doth so follow him, and/when in presence, 
 
 So gloats upon him with his keen wild eyes, 
 
 That his life s privilege seems earned with gazing. > 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 A strange unnatural passion in a man, 
 To love the oppressor of his countrymen. 
 What does he now? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Alas, this altar here 
 
 What is t without the spirit that should inshrine it? 
 This will not harm, this will not slay, while thus, 
 Nor mock the vapour-spirits, when they flash 
 Death through the clouded mountains. This is nothing. 
 Without the greater secret nay, not more 
 Than is a war-club in a strong man s hands. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 What seek st thou, Pedro? 
 
ORALLOOSSA 451 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ye are Viracochas, 
 
 Sons of the gods, and wise! Would I knew this: 
 Tis not such sand as spreads the blackened beach. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 What hast thou in thy palm? What, gunpowder? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Will not your honourable lordship show me, 
 What is the secret of this little grain, 
 That hath a god in its black mass wrapped up, 
 More powerful than the thunder? 
 
 ALC. 
 
 What, a god? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Perhaps a devil, a most pernicious devil, 
 Wherewith the cunning may enslave the strong, 
 And the few quell the million. I would know him : 
 I have worshiped him ; he heeds not, till, grown angry, 
 I cast him in the flames; and then he answers, 
 With a brave noise, and vanishes. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Thou art 
 
 Half pagan yet. Worship this senseless dust, 
 Which is as gross as thy credulity ! 
 There s no divinity nor magic here : 
 Three simple substances, within the reach 
 Of every man, united, form this wonder. 
 
452 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Are they to be found in Peru ? 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Abundantly upon every mountain 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Eternal sun ! 
 
 DE CAST. 
 Ha! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Holy saints! in Peru! 
 
 What, on our savage hills? Oh, much I fear, 
 My noble lord now mocks me. 
 
 The first is charcoal. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Thou shalt hear: 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Charcoal ! Ha, ha, ha! Who would have thought it? 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Next, sulphur. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Sulphur! Ha, ha! Why that grows on the moun 
 tains, in the old craters ! 
 
 ALC, 
 
 Last, nitre. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 453 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Nitre ! O sun ! O holy Maria ! Marvellous, wonder 
 ful ! Ha ! ha ! I can t help laughing. I know of 
 caverns in the hills, whose floors are white with it. 
 Nitre Ha, ha! 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Nature conjoins these elements together 
 
 In the hollow chambers of your native mountains; 
 
 Which, being ignited by the central fires, 
 
 Produce the eruptive volcano and loud earthquake. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 St. Anthony! but I will make some! 
 
 ALC. 
 
 You may do it easily. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 I will make a mountain of it, I will make an earth 
 quake! Ha, ha! the Peruvian shall make a 
 noise, that will cause his noble masters to laugh 
 the hills shall laugh, all Peru shall laugh, and 
 cry aloud on the Peruvian ! 
 
 ALC. 
 
 You must be cautious how you handle it. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Cautious ! I will I will be as cunning as a wild cat, 
 when he creeps through the thicket and circum 
 vents his prey. Ha, ha ! Sulphur nitre char 
 coal ! 
 
454 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 (Aside.) O holy sun! I thank thee! Smile upon me 
 A little longer, and thy people yet 
 Shall live to worship thee! And thou, my father! 
 From thy bright throne of sunshine, look upon me! 
 Vengeance is nigh thy people shall be free ! 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Is the slave mad ? 
 
 ALC. 
 
 It is his natural spirit, 
 That oft bursts out into these rhapsodies, 
 At lighter matters (Trumpet.) Hark! the Viceroy 
 comes. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 I did not think his grace had been so nigh. 
 I scarce am fitted for the audience yet. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Twas but the trumpet of the advanced guard: 
 Twill be an hour ere yet Pizarro comes. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Why then farewell. Tomorrow I will pay 
 My duties to his highness. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 By Saint Francis! 
 
 Tomorrow! Yea, tomorrow, or the next day 
 And why not now ? He will not face my master ! 
 Why I distrust him. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 455 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Certain, tis most strange 
 He shuns the present meeting. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Sir, it speaks 
 
 A very treason. Have I eyes? I see t. 
 Now would I make a weapon of my doubt, 
 And hide it in his doublet ! Holy saints ! 
 Nothing but treason! All men now are traitors, 
 Plotting their scurvy malice gainst my master. 
 And, noble sir, he is too merciful: 
 He should go seek his enemy in the dark, 
 And then be quick The dead men are our friends. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Thou art too jealous, Pedro. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Oh, tis my love for my great master then. 
 
 Yet I can see Have I not cunning eyes ? 
 
 Believe me, sir, I swear, yon young Almagro 
 
 Is a foul villain, that would sell his soul, 
 
 To gain his devilish ends upon Pizarro. 
 
 I see it; I have eyes I have c erspied him: 
 
 He sharps his knife, and, from his window, scowls 
 
 All day upon the palace. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Well, your fear 
 
 Here jumps with mine; and with the Viceroy s too; 
 Who, in this letter, bids me have him summon d 
 To meet him at the palace, here, to answer 
 For the feared phantom that he raised. 
 
456 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Of Oralloossa. 
 
 A phantom? 
 ALC. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ho! a lying phantom. 
 What should the Inca do among the hills, 
 When he so soundly sleeps (could one but find him), 
 In a safe couch, hard by the Conqueror? 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Yes, in his grave! I would that I might see it. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Thou never wilt ; for he himself did swear, 
 No Spanish eye should look upon his tomb; 
 For he would build it in the Conqueror s hall, 
 With the last Spaniard for his pillow! 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Pedro ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Did he rtot lie? Twas Oralloossa s oath; 
 And what is Oralloossa, when the Spaniard 
 Treads on his bosom? A very mad, strange oath ! 
 What, the last Spaniard! A most mad conceit ! 
 His grave dug deeply in Pizarro s palace, 
 And the last Spanish corse to be his pillow! 
 
 ALC. 
 
 A ruffian runagate! But get you gone; 
 
 Summon Almagro to the palace, here 
 
 To meet the Viceroy at his earliest audience. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 457 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 I am your lordship s slave A lying oath! 
 A palace monument ! and the last Spaniard ! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE II. A room in Almagro s house. Enter 
 SOTELA and ALMAGRO. 
 
 SOT. 
 
 < S death, I shall burst Those tattered rascals look 
 As they would sell a traitor for a crust. 
 They are starved, all but the ears. Lo, ears!> 
 (He locks the door.) 
 
 ALM. 
 
 How now, 
 
 Old soldier? Have you drawn me from the feast, 
 And lock d the door betwixt me and my guests, 
 To talk to me of riot and excess, 
 
 And your old grandam s proverbs? Or perhaps, 
 What do I owe thee? Or rather, what my father? 
 I am governor of Chili, and I ll pay thee. 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Thou governor! thou boy, that, like a slave, 
 Sit st down upon thy grievances, without 
 The wit to see them, or the manliness 
 With a brave blow to end them. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Grievances ! 
 
 Am I not lord of Chili, and the heir 
 To all my father s Conquests ? Have I not 
 
458 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 My father s friends here sitting at my board, 
 And swearing I m the next man to Pizzarro? 
 Come, let s return; <I have a stoup of wine, 
 Which, though tis sour, is excellent old. Come, 
 come. > 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Hark ye, young man : I, who am old and withered, 
 
 My limbs all stiffen d, and my blood congeal d 
 
 By sixty winters frosts, now look upon you, 
 
 Your patient sufferance of indignity, 
 
 Your base forgetful ness of your father s wrongs, 
 
 < Ended by his most foul and bloody death, 
 
 While his red murderer stares you in the face, > 
 
 As some thing monstrous and incredible ! 
 
 Why my thin blood doth boil, and my shrunk nerves 
 
 Find strength and fury, while I look around, 
 
 And see the assassin of my friend, your father, 
 
 Perch d in his seat of honour, and the son 
 
 Of the great Conqueror crouching at his feet, 
 
 Smiling and jesting 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Tush, you are in a passion, 
 I crouch not at his feet; or, if I do, 
 I have an end in t. 
 
 SOT. 
 
 And what to to gain? Perhaps a smile of favour, 
 
 Followed by a kind order to his slaves, 
 
 "Give this man gold, but drive him from my doors!" 
 
 <ALM. . 
 
 Come, let s to dinner. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 459 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Have you appetite ? 
 
 Now, by Saint Anthony, that meat should choke you, 
 Which came, as a peaceoffering, from Pizarro. > 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Come, come; our good friends wait us. 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Fy upon them ! 
 
 A troop of scowling beggars, that will feed 
 Upon the bread of an impoverish d leader, 
 Yet show no steel to right him. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 S life, I tell you, 
 They are all true men. How should they show their 
 
 steels, 
 When they have pawned, or sold em? <Or how use 
 
 them, 
 
 After redemption? Upon dogs and cats?> 
 We want not swords Pizarro does the killing. 
 
 SOT. 
 He kill d your father! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Ay ; all flesh is mortal ! 
 
 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Sirrah, it is thy mother s Indian blood 
 Makes thee so soulless! 
 
460 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALM. 
 
 My mother was a Coya 
 
 the Inca blood; and all the drops she gave me, 
 Have all the fire of their original, 
 The sun of heaven ! Look thou, hotheaded man ! 
 Swear thou art true, and wilt sustain my cause, 
 And hast not come to trap me for Pizarro. 
 
 SOT. 
 What dost thou mean ? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 That I am overlooked, 
 And marked for peril; so that, rashly, I 
 Will take none to my counsels. But forgive me; 
 I mocked thy love, only to sound its depth. 
 I have an end, rest you assured of that 
 In all this seeming sufferance. 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Now by heaven, 
 A true Almagro ! Death to your father s murderer ! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 He stole my heirdom too, I thank him for t, 
 The regency of Chili and of Cuzco; 
 < And keeps me here, noosed like a taming tiger 
 To yield him sport, when he may choose to bait me. > 
 Payment I ll have, and vengeance; but the time 
 Is not yet come. 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Sir, by your leave it is : 
 Now, while in chase of mountain-hid Peruvians, 
 
ORALLOOSSA 461 
 
 He leaves his city masterless; now, while he 
 An insurrection in the country quells, 
 Himself quell with another. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 So I meant it, 
 
 When (for I ll own it to thee), I myself 
 Begot the rumour of the mad rebellion, 
 And of resuscitated Oralloossa. 
 Vain stratagem, vain hope! 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Why is it vain ? 
 
 It served you, as you wished, to drive away 
 The governor. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Ay; but it left behind 
 The governor s slave. 
 
 SOT. 
 
 His slave! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Peruvian Pedro ; 
 
 My evil genius, as he was my father s. 
 Look you, this kite was once my father s bondman, 
 And by my sire ( tis now perhaps seven months), 
 Given to Pizarro. O the treacherous hound! 
 Himself did pray it, that, by winding into 
 The secrets of the ruler, he might profit 
 My father, whom he swore he deeply loved. 
 But mark his love! Twas he my sire betray d, 
 
462 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 And gulled him to the block, this cunning fiend: 
 Who, with an Indian s fickleness, soon gave 
 The love he owed my father, to Pizarro. 
 This villain is Pizarro s truest friend, 
 And, faith, the Viceroy knows it. 
 
 SOT. 
 
 What, a slave? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 A monster, human, but inexplicable; 
 
 [Of faith and perfidy, a lamb and tiger) 
 
 A man and devil, a perilous enigma; 
 
 Who looks upon his master as his god, 
 
 And all men else his master s enemies. 
 
 This rogue was left behind, with cunning eye 
 
 To pry upon my plans; and pries so sharply, 
 
 There s naught I do, but he stands by, the witness. 
 
 While this slave lives, the Viceroy cannot die. 
 
 SOT. 
 Kill him! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Ay, do me that ; and let Pizarro 
 Not know me in the act. Catch him asleep ! 
 I think his life is charm d: three times already 
 He hath escaped me. Hark! 
 
 What ho! 
 
 CHRISTOVAL (Within.) 
 
 My royal kinsman ! 
 
ORALLOOSSA 463 
 
 ALM. 
 
 My foolish cousin, Christ oval. 
 
 (He opens the door.) 
 
 (Enter CHRISTOVAL, JUAN, < an d other Almagrists. > ) 
 Well, kinsman, what is the matter? 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Much is the matter. <I have seen the day I would 
 have given a man a cloak, had he but asked it. 
 Look, emperor of Chili, you are appointed umpire 
 in the matter of the cloak. I claim the cloak, 
 and by Saint Dominick, I will have the cloak: 
 but you shall judge. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Pr ythee, cousin, bring not thy foolish disputes before 
 my venerable friend. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Foolish! This comes of being an emperor. What 
 may be sport with kings, is a life-and-death affair 
 to commoners: a monarch may laugh at a 
 shoulder of mutton, but a beggar is glad of the 
 bone. 
 
 JUAN 
 
 He likens the cloak to a bone, because it is a bone of 
 contention. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 I do no such thing : I liken the cloak to nothing but 
 a cloak. 
 
464 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Pr ythee, some one tell me what is the matter? 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Thou art the umpire. Thou knowest, son of mine 
 uncle, we twelve are thy twelve truest friends. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 And therefore I thank you heartily. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Thou knowest, we twelve are twelve of the poorest 
 varlets in all Peru. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Therein do I sympathize with you. We will be rich 
 enough by and by. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Ay, thus have you been singing ever since I placed 
 foot in Peru : And thus said mine uncle Almagro, 
 "Let my nephew come to Peru, and I will make 
 him a rich man and a prince; and thereby he 
 hinted, he was the same as a king in the land. 
 And here am I, no more in Peru, than in purga 
 tory; and apparelled like a vagabond, as, indeed, 
 are all my friends ; and instead of having homage 
 done me as a nobleman, I am jostled out of the 
 way, like anybody s dog: and instead of finding 
 mine uncle a king, I find him not only without a 
 crown, but, holy Mary! without a head; and 
 instead of finding my cousin, his son, the emperor 
 
ORALLOOSSA 465 
 
 of Chili, I find him, next to myself, the poorest 
 man in Peru. I would to Saint Dominick I were 
 in mine own land again ! 
 
 JUAN 
 Ay, marry, or out of the cloak. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Ha! I had forgot that. We twelve then, cousin 
 emperor, being, as I said, so detestable poor, 
 and our cloaks being so utterly rusty and tatter 
 demalion, we found us a conceit for keeping up 
 the array of gentlemen, though our pockets were 
 none of the yellowest. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Well! 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 We had e en just enough among us to compass one 
 
 respectable mantle 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Well, well. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 So we bought one, engaging ourselves to wear it time 
 about, each man his day. 
 
 JUAN 
 
 Each man his turn. Nothing about day. 
 
 30 
 
466 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SOT. 
 
 To this thing, then, that man reduces them, 
 For being friendly to Almagro ! Pho ! 
 Denies them office and employment ! Go to ! 
 You shall take cloaks out of Pizarro s wardrobe. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Pizarro! Ay, that is another thing I forgot in the 
 controversy. I claps me on the cloak, and 
 saunters about the green fields, not having seen 
 them in sunshine for twelve days; and there I 
 heard a thing may advantage thee to know. > 
 The Viceroy is returning. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 S blood, cousin, it cannot be! 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 I say, the Viceroy is returning; <and with the most 
 discreet and disciplined array of cloaks to the 
 back of his knaves, as man never looked upon. > 
 I had it of his advanced guards; some of whom 
 railed at me, for a cursed Almagrist, and bade me 
 beware, lest lying and tricking were followed by 
 whipping. 
 
 ALM. 
 Have we traitors among us? 
 
 SOT. 
 
 What! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 How should he trace the stratagem to me ? 
 
ORALLOOSSA 467 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Nay, there is no certainty he does. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 That cursed Pedro! 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 I would I were a viceroy ! I should have my Coy a too. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 What say stthou? 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 That I am fitter to love a daughter of the Sun, than 
 gray-bearded Pizarro. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 What, what? 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 The Viceroy is enamoured of one of thy royal black- 
 eyed cousins, a daughter of the Incas. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Hah! 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 This I heard from the rascals, or they slandered their 
 master. He had the princess from Cuzco. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 From Cuzco ? 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Ay. 
 
468 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Her name ? 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Baptized Beatrice. The soldiers called her Hoo 
 Hoo 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Ooallie! 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 The same; sister of the pestilent dead Inca, Oralloossa. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Now is Pizarro bought and sold ! Oho ! 
 
 When age resolves its reverend excellence 
 
 Into the boyish vapour of a sigh, 
 
 Then may boys shame it with their manliness. 
 
 Give me, for him that I would make my fool, 
 
 An old man doting on a girlish face : 
 
 Then shall I know the measure of his brain, 
 
 And have his heart of trust, for tickling it. 
 
 Masters, be merry the fool d Viceroy s ours! 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 And whose shall be the princess ? Look, I claim her : 
 I have a fancy now to love a princess. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Why you shall have a hundred, if you will. 
 This Ooallie, this Beatrice, I know; 
 And when I dwelt in Cuzco with my father, 
 Built me a loving temple in her heart, 
 That gray Pizarro ne er can raze away. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 469 
 
 But I ll not tell you further only this, 
 That daughter of the Sun, even by the sun 
 I swear, shall aid us in our enterprise. 
 (Loud knocking.) 
 
 What is the matter? <Hark! Look from the win 
 dow^ 
 
 OUT friends come not so boldly! Good my masters, 
 I do assure you this same girl will save us, 
 Spite of Pizarro, or his serpent, Pedro. 
 
 (Enter ORALLOOSSA, as PEDRO.) 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Where be these lurking haters of Pizarro? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Villain, why break st thou so audaciously 
 Into my house? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ha, ha! It is Pizarro s; 
 He lends it to thee. By the holy saints, 
 Thou hast no house. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Sirrah ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 My master loves thee not ; 
 Therefore art thou inheritor of nothing. 
 Why break I in upon you? By Saint John, 
 I stood at the threshold, and smelt villainy. 
 I knew the egg was warming in the nest, 
 And came to watch the hatching. 
 
470 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Snake-eyed slave, 
 Whom Christian light has only made a Judas, 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Pedro, not Judas ! 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Is this insolent villain 
 The traitor bondman? Draw your swords, and kill 
 
 him, 
 Now, while you have him in your hands. 
 
 This fury mars us. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Hold, hold! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 What ! you draw your swords 
 On Pedro? On the poor Peruvian, 
 That great Pizarro smiles on ? By the cross, 
 If you do strike me, I will have your heads. 
 I can have em any minute for the asking. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 That s very true. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Hark ye, detested slave, 
 Thou hast deserved no mercy at my hands, 
 Who didst make traffic of my father s life, 
 My father that did love thee. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 47 1 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 So he did; 
 He said so : Yes ! he loved me. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Wherefore then 
 Did st thou betray him? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Oh, tis very plain: 
 
 I long d to see how he, who, on his warhorse, 
 S worded and mailed, like to a warring god, 
 Among the thousand slayers, laugh d at death, 
 Would grin upon a scaffold! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Bloody dog! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 I love to see a great man die, a man 
 
 That hath a nation murdered or enslaved, 
 
 Such a great man: Tis like the spectacle 
 
 Of a blood-battened puma, as I have seen, 
 
 Sprawling beneath a thunder-toppled rock, 
 
 Strongly convulsed and greatly perishing ! 
 
 I have seen an Inca die look you, a son 
 
 Of heaven s resplendent monarch ; but twas nothing, 
 
 Till I could hear a Conqueror s last groan ! 
 
 Mark you, a Conqueror s ! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Thou art a devil ! 
 
 Why dost thou seek my misery and death? 
 I am not great. 
 
472 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 O holy virgin! thine? 
 
 I could love thee; but thou hatest me, I know, 
 And my great master. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Him, thou soulless slave, 
 Who has kill d a million of thy countrymen, 
 And hanged thy princes ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Well, why should he not? 
 
 What were the runagate heathens made for then, 
 But whips, and swords, and gibbets? Know st thou 
 
 not, 
 
 Heaven was wroth with Indians, and raised up 
 This man to be their scourger? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Renegade ! 
 I ll speak with thee no more. Begone. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Ay, go; 
 
 Get out, you cur. Why do you pause? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 To do 
 
 My master s bidding. Thou, Almagro, art 
 Commanded by the Viceroy to appear, 
 Within the hour that he returns to it, 
 Before him at his palace. This command 
 He makes me by a messenger. Look to it ! 
 
ORALLOOSSA 473 
 
 ALM. 
 
 What does his highness seek of me ? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 To answer 
 
 The lying rumour of the insurrection. 
 You were better drown, than fail. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Insulting upstart ! 
 
 I will obey the Viceroy. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Hark ye, savage 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 I am a Christian; by Saint Anthony, 
 A proper Christian ! 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Well, a word with you 
 About the Coy as. I will nothing say 
 That s of yourself, knowing, as I do know, 
 You are a miscreant to the bone. But look you, 
 I am weary of my bachelorship ; and therefore 
 Will wive, and, if it like you, with a Coya. 
 Tell me then, savage, for thou art Peruvian, 
 Where shall I find a Coya? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 In the earth, 
 
 Under the walls of Cuzco. 
 
474 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Now thou jestest! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Are not the graves all full ? Why where shouldst thou 
 Look for an Inca s child, but in the grave? 
 
 ALM. 
 Cousin, have done, and let the slave begone. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Sirrah, I say thou liest now, since thy master 
 Has brought a live one here from Cuzco. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 From Cuzco ! 
 A Coya ! Nay ! She was not there ! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Who was not there? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ye slander my great master with a lie 
 
 A daughter of the Sun! Beware, thou prattler. 
 
 My master s wrath is swifter than thy tongue, 
 
 And hotter than thy venom. An Inca s daughter! 
 
 See that he smite thee not for this, among 
 
 Thy other stratagems. When the last trumpets 
 
 Sound his return, be sure thou seek the palace, 
 
 And make him satisfaction ; or thou art 
 
 Even ripe for hanging. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Villain, get thee gone! 
 
ORALLOOSSA 475 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 I say, come to the palace. What, a Coya? 
 Let the graves rot with Coyas, so they spare 
 No wretch to be a Spaniard s paramour! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 END OF ACT I. 
 
ACT II 
 
 SCENE I. A hall in the Palace <with open corridors 
 and prospect. > Enter ALCANTARA and CARVAHAL. 
 
 ALCANTARA 
 
 Even at the gates? Where bides this dreamer, Pedro? 
 No guards about the palace, to receive him ! 
 
 CARV. 
 
 All s fix d and fair; the guards are at the door, 
 The idle citizens in the street; all ready 
 To hail the hero, who has quell d an army 
 Of shadows, and made conquest of a woman. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Is it then true? 
 
 CARV. 
 
 Exceeding true. The Viceroy, 
 With his old armour rattling on his back, 
 Astride his arrogant charger, and an army 
 That might another royalty subdue, 
 Into the city, with majestic pomp, 
 Conducts the spoils of this campaign ; and that 
 And that spoil is a woman. 
 
 476 
 
Pr ythee, no jests. 
 
 ORALLOOSSA 477 
 
 ALC. 
 CARV. 
 
 Be thou my confessor: 
 
 Should not gray hairs bring wisdom and cool blood? 
 Is this a time to toy with amorous girls, 
 When treason scowls among malicious men ? 
 Here now, the Viceroy, who should keep one eye 
 Upon the dark Almagro, sets them both 
 Upon a foolish Coy a; and next will come, 
 When she has stuffed his ears with lies and love, 
 The thunder of rebellion. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Pr ythee, cease. 
 
 Such words would anger him. Observe! tis Pedro, 
 And with a countenance disturbed. 
 
 (Enter ORALLOOSSA.) 
 
 ORALL. (Aside.) 
 
 A Coya! 
 
 Is there no degradation but must light 
 Upon the blood of Incas ? And from Cuzco ? 
 Now does this smite me with much shame and fear. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 What, sirrah, art thou rapt? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 My gracious lord ! 
 Pardon my thoughts, that they were with Almagro. 
 
478 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALC. 
 
 What of Almagro? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 I do think, sir, treason. 
 Shall I go to the gates, to meet my lord ? 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Await him in the palace. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 They did speak, 
 These vile Almagrists, slanders of my master. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Why let them rail. 
 
 The Inca s murderer ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 And to my face, did call him 
 
 CARV. 
 
 Pho, was that all? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Was t not enough, to call him murderer? 
 His highness murderer? Why men should call 
 A caitiff murderer! And then they added 
 Foul jests about a poor Peruvian girl 
 
 ALC. 
 Where learn d they that, the varlets, of the Coya? 
 
ORALLOOSSA 479 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 A Coya, didst thou say? An Inca s daughter? 
 Now, by my heart, they lie ! 
 
 CARV. 
 
 What, sirrah ? Lie ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Did I say that ? Lie ! Spaniards cannot lie. 
 But think, my lord, an Inca s daughter! No, no, 
 They do not lie; and yet, me thinks, tis false. 
 An Inca s daughter, and his paramour ! 
 
 ALC. 
 
 And why not, knave? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 O yes, why not, my lord? 
 Is aught too high or noble for Pizarro ? 
 Why not, why not ? It doth but honour them, 
 Though the best buds of Peru s royalty, 
 It doth but honour them, to be uplifted 
 Into the bosom of the Conqueror! 
 
 ALC. 
 What, thou art moved? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 By saints and angels, no ! 
 It is great honour! And yet Peruvians look d 
 Upon their Coyas as heaven s daughters; yea, 
 Save the holy Incas, none durst touch the robe 
 That veil d their sacred bodies; and they died, 
 When they but looked upon a man yes, died ; 
 To love, was death ! 
 
480 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALC. 
 
 These were your pagan laws. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 A Coya, what, a Coya? I do believe, 
 It is not true! 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Why should it not be true ? 
 This passion would make many think thee still, 
 At soul, Peruvian. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 By the mass, a Christian! 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Why should it not be true ? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Where should he find 
 
 A Coya ? They are vanished from the land : 
 Is not the palace of their fathers empty? 
 And the green valleys, where, of yore, they roamed 
 Among the violets, void and desolate ? 
 The children of the Incas have departed : 
 They were the prizes of the Conquerors. 
 Yet I remember me that one did dwell 
 Among the hills of Cuzco. 
 
 This may be she. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Why then, sirrah, 
 
ORALLOOSSA 481 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 This? Holy heavens! that princess was 
 Of a most rare, and pure, and delicate spirit, 
 Sweet as a midnight rainbow on the hills, 
 A trembling flower, that would have withered in 
 The atmosphere of shame; and oh, so proud 
 And queenlike in her gentleness, that she 
 Had frown d shame dead, though by a monarch 
 offered. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 And yet, thou fool, Pizarro hath a Coy a, 
 A Christian Coya; and from Cuzco too. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 A Christian ! 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Ay ; art thou not glad of this ? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 An Inca s child a Christian? Oh, rejoiced! 
 
 What were the Incas but idolaters, 
 
 Foul infidels, and cubs of Antichrist; 
 
 That perish d in their darkness? But, at last, 
 
 Come light and honour, faith and dignity ; 
 
 And a poor pagan girl may reach that grace, 
 
 To be beloved by angels and Pizarro ! 
 
 CARV. 
 
 I think the knave speaks sarcasm now ! A rogue, 
 With a fresh Christian wit. 
 
 (Trumpets.) 
 31 
 
482 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Room for the Viceroy ! 
 
 (Enter PIZARRO, attended [and GONZALO D CORDOVA 
 
 with his body guard]}. 
 
 Hail to the Conqueror! The Christian s shield, 
 The heathen s scourge, the master of a world! 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Our faithful Pedro ! Cousin Alcantara, 
 
 Are you yet weary of the regency ? 
 
 We will release ye. What, our Chamberlain ? 
 
 See ye have maidens here, with love and honour, 
 
 To give attendance on the Coya ; service 
 
 Render ye her, the child of royal Incas, 
 
 As to a monarch s daughter. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Shall not I 
 
 Become her slave, that am her countryman, 
 And best will know her pleasures? 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Our true Pedro! 
 
 Thou shalt be near her, ever, as thou lovest 
 Thy friend and master, with all zeal to serve her. 
 But stay I ll speak with thee, and there despatch 
 
 thee. 
 
 Gentlemen all, give me your leave, I pray you, 
 Until the hour of audience. Cousin, a word. 
 
 (Exeunt all but PIZ., ORALL. and ALC.) 
 What man is this, of whom you sent advice, 
 And of his mystic errand ? 
 
ORALLOOSSA 483 
 
 The judge De Castro. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Dear my lord, 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Let him be the judge. 
 
 Yet ran an evil whisper through the troops, 
 He bore a nobler title. If it be, 
 The imperial fool men call Pizarro s master, 
 Forget Pizarro s services, Pizarro 
 Is mindful of their merits ; and will not 
 Their fair rewards yield up to favourites. 
 He conquered not a world, for kings to lavish 
 On kingly minions ; nor a field of empire 
 Sowed with his blood, for such to reap the harvest. 
 <Let him look close; his fifths of Peru s gold 
 His frown will dwindle to a tithe, his anger 
 To nothing; and ingratitude will rob him 
 Of his Pizarro and Peru together. > 
 What was this man ? 
 
 ALC. 
 
 A judge, he did assure me: 
 And yet, with sudden haste, he left the palace, 
 At your first trump, and with such countenance, 
 As makes me fear. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 What says my Pedro? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 A traitor! 
 
 Can I not see? Take thou my head, or his. 
 I can see men s hearts peeping from their eyes ; 
 
484 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 And his is mischievous. If he do see 
 The sunrise, he will plot a crime for night. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Let him be looked to : pray you, seek him out, 
 Ere he have speech with any here in Lima : 
 I do desire him at the palace quickly. 
 If I do find him leagued in aught against me, 
 Twere better he had laid his bones to rot 
 Under the unknown sea. Let him be found. 
 
 (Exit ALCANTARA.) 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Shall I now seek the princess ? 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Tarry yet. 
 I love thee well, and think thou art my friend. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Thy slave and footstool. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 I have tried thee long, 
 
 And find thee truer than the best. All men, 
 From fear or jealousy, have turn d my foes; 
 I trust not one : Nay, even my kinsman there, 
 Methinks sometimes that he could play me false. 
 But thou art open to me as the day ; 
 Thy heart is bare, and naught I read in it, 
 Save love and honesty. 
 
 Pedro is true. 
 
 ORALL. 
 Yes, I am true; 
 
ORALLOOSSA 485 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 I find thee my best friend, 
 Now when forsook of all that love me truest ; 
 My brother Ferdinand by a king ungrateful 
 Thrust in a Spanish prison; my Gonzalo 
 Trooping, with my best veterans, at the springs 
 O th mighty Maranon; and, saddest yet, 
 Loved Juan mouldering in his grave at Cuzco. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ay: twas Almagro helped him there. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Not so : 
 
 Twas Oralloossa s fierce and bloody hand 
 That slew the boy my curse rest on his soul ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Yes, curses on his soul ! 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Thou art my friend. 
 Under thy charge I left my fiercest foes, 
 Almagro and his eleemosynary crew. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Foul traitors all ! I am barbarian, 
 
 Else should I know what keeps them breathing yet, 
 
 When they were safer in the earth. 
 
 <PIZ. 
 
 I doubt me, 
 They were not proper watches for my pillow ?> 
 
486 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Let them beside ye, when ye sleep ! I watch d them, 
 And know the knaveries that they meditate. 
 Nay, they did draw their angry swords on me, 
 When I did catch them plotting. Wilt thou hear me ? 
 Why do they live? 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Not that I love them, but because I fear 
 Their death might harm me more than can their lives. 
 Men then would call me tyrant and destroyer; 
 <For men will talk. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Yes, certain, men will talk. > 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 We must be wise. Thou knowest that men, in secret, 
 Still ponder sourly o er the Inca s death. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Sourly! 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 And call it a most fearful deed, 
 Perfidious, dark and bloody. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Dark and bloody 
 
 Many such words; but some have blacker thoughts. 
 I heard a man, who, in a sort of dream, 
 Walking alone, did talk unto himself, 
 And give such thoughts unto the babbling air, 
 As made me tremble. Of the Inca twas, 
 
ORALLOOSSA 487 
 
 And of his doom, which, he did say, out mocked 
 
 The best of devils; for hell, quoth he, could plot 
 
 No deeper horror to affright mankind, 
 
 Nor send a fiend more dreadful than that man, 
 
 That schemed out this : For, for myself, said he, 
 
 That did but look upon t, and gave no help, 
 
 It haunts my memory with a racking dread, 
 
 Chills me by day, and, in my dreams, appals 
 
 With hideous images that will not die, 
 
 But glare out still, to mad me : Then for him, 
 
 (For thus he added, in his moody fear,) 
 
 For him that wrought this horror, it has sealed him 
 
 Unto perdition ; scorpions yet shall sting him 
 
 With endless anguish; worms shall gnaw his heart, 
 
 Fires scar his brain, and slow corrupting terror 
 
 Wither his body, till the hour is come: 
 
 Then blood for blood ! and pang for pang ! and death 
 
 Horrid as was the Inca s, for his murderer! 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Slave ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 But I smote him ! 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Do such babblers live? 
 
 ORALL. 
 Do not the Almagrists, and a thousand such? 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Death to them all! 
 
488 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ha, ha! I say, die all! 
 Throats to be cut ! There is a joy in blood, 
 More than in wine ; and when it wells and bubbles 
 Out of mine enemy s heart, it makes me drunk 
 With a fierce rapture ! Shall they die tonight ? 
 Give but the word; thy guards are devils all, 
 And will not flinch nor fright. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Nay, hurry not : 
 
 Let them not openly die, as by my hand. 
 Find out some dark device, for thou art cunning, 
 Will turn man s eyes from me. How shall they die ? 
 Think too, they have the wit of desperate men, 
 And must be ta en by craft. How shall they die? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Shall I not tell thee ? Look, I am not wise : 
 
 How should the poor Peruvian be wise? 
 
 The savage cradled on the gorgy hills, 
 
 Nursed, like a bear s cub, in the howling woods, 
 
 With none to teach him ; save his wants and perils ? 
 
 I am not wise ; but I have deeper cunning : 
 
 The serpents taught me that, for I have watch d them, 
 
 When, through the tangled twigs and leaves, they crept 
 
 Upon the drowsy hare, and, ere he started, 
 
 Wreathed the linked folds around his neck, and 
 
 crushed him ! 
 
 I have seen the cougar too, where, from the boughs, 
 He leaped upon the browsing llama s back, 
 And, ere he knew his fear, had dug his heart out ! 
 Is it enough ? 
 
ORALLOOSSA 489 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Use thy best craft in this, 
 And trust my gratitude. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Give me men to aid, 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 My body guard 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Enough. Ha, ha! tomorrow 
 
 There shall be sights for Lima ! Rare, brave sights !- 
 Shall I now to the Coya? 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Holy saints ! 
 
 Such thoughts of blood suit ill with her fair image. 
 Carry me these fair jewels to her beauty; 
 And, for thou knowest her country s customs well, 
 Plead for me for her love. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 What, for her love! 
 Is she not then your slave ? 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Let her not think so. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Why should the miserable savage stand 
 In great Pizarro s likeness? 
 
490 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 For Pizarro 
 
 Knows little how to woo, and less to woo 
 Peruvian princesses. I swear, this Coya 
 Gives me but tears, and terror, and rude coldness. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Coldness? Ha, ha! and tears and terror! Saints, 
 But this is rare ! A Coya cannot love ! 
 The child of Incas cannot smile on man ! 
 Nay, I will woo her with such cunning words, 
 Songs of old time, and tender yarabis 
 As needs must win her to your arms. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Do this, 
 And But I ll speak not of the good I mean thee. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 These jewels to her beauty Costly magic! 
 Dazzle the eyes of modesty with splendour, 
 And that it watches o er, weak virtue, steal 
 From the unvigiled guardian. Ye shall have her; 
 My office and these pander gems assure it : 
 The Inca s daughter is your slave. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Away 
 
 [Her women are comanded to obey thee. Hence] 
 Unto the Coya! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 The daughter of the Incas ! 
 
 (Exit PIZARPO.) 
 
ORALLOOSSA 491 
 
 The Spaniard s wanton the daughter of the Incas ! 
 
 (Enter a female Attendant.) 
 
 Fetch me the Coya. Why dost thou stand agape? 
 Fetch me the daughter of the Sun. thou 
 Convenient creature, that watchest at the door 
 To keep out honesty, and let lechery in, 
 Behold authority this jeweled chain, 
 Sent by Pizarro! Bring the Coya forth, 
 And then begone. 
 
 (Exit Attendant.) 
 
 O Sun, my father! bitter was thy wrath, 
 When for Peru, most favored of thy climes, 
 Thou didst allot so base a destiny ! 
 Caitiffs and knaves, the refuse progeny 
 Of vilest nations, lord it o er thy people; 
 A swineherd governs where the Incas reigned, 
 And the mere ruffian, who would crouch before 
 A passing grandee in his native land, 
 Treads, in Peru, upon the necks of princes! 
 Shall this thing be, and I, that am the monarch, 
 Still play the bondman to the Conqueror? 
 The lover, to the Inca s murderer? 
 The pander to the Coya s ravisher ? 
 Still make my vengeance wait my people s weal, 
 And find but knowledge, where I seek for blood? 
 A moon or two a week perchance a day, 
 And Peru looks from out her kingly hills, 
 With her reanimate millions, and beholds 
 The Inca risen, the Conqueror on the Earth, 
 And Oralloossa treading on his neck, 
 I the ruddy pomp of vengeance! But I rave 
 
 (Re-enter Attendant, with Ooallie.) 
 She comes the Inca s daughter! Get thee away. 
 
 (Exit Attendant) 
 
492 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Eternal Sun, that look st upon my shame, 
 
 Couldst thou not blast her? But a look Tis she! 
 
 An offering from Pizarro Holy princess ! 
 
 Unveil thy countenance, and look upon me, 
 
 Thy countryman. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Alas, alas, what art thou? 
 Thy voice is like a memory on mine ear. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Thy veil, I say ! (He tears it off.) Child of the mur 
 dered Inca, 
 Shame of the living ! wanton ! Ooallie ! 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Ah ha! my brother! Oralloossa! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Inca ! 
 (She kneels.) 
 
 If but a word thou speak st, thou diest. Thou wretch, 
 Thou Christian s wretch ! 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 My brother, and my king ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ay, on the earth! there kneel, and crouch, and grovel! 
 How comest thou hither, and in the murderer s train, 
 His slave, his creature, his meek paramour? 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 brother, brother, speak not thus to me; 
 
 1 am not that poor wretch thou callest me, 
 
ORALLOOSSA 493 
 
 But, though a poor and weak unhappy girl, 
 The Inca s child, and Oralloossa s sister! 
 < Brother, forgive me; take me to thine arms, 
 And let me weep upon thy neck I have 
 A friend and brother ! > 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Why comest thou with the Spaniard? 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Why dost thou chide me, brother? Was not I 
 Left lone and helpless, feeble, without friends? 
 Thou know st my father slumbers in the ground 
 Where was my guardian then ? Thou didst forsake me : 
 Brother, didst thou not leave me, yet leave not 
 Thy spirit s greatness to uphold my weakness? 
 Thou left st me naught but tears and orphanage. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Thou art my sister! my poor Ooallie! 
 But thou hast come to see a deed of blood. 
 Tis well thou hadst but terror for Pizarro; 
 Else had I doomed thee to the living grave: 
 Now thou shalt share my vengeance. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 <O my brother, > 
 What dost thou meditate ? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Art thou fit to hear? 
 
 Thou art a Christian! Say, art thou apostate? 
 Dost thou, that hast thy spirit from a god, 
 A beamy essence of the deity, 
 
494 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Bend to men s idols, to the gods of devils? 
 Speak, art thou Christian? 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 A Peruvian ! 
 
 Child of the Sphere ! although the cowled priest, 
 Dashing the sacred water on my brow, 
 Strove, with those drops, to wash the beam away. 
 [She rushes into his arms.} 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Nay then I know thee for my sister yet, 
 And thou shalt smile. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 They said, that thou wert dead. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 To all but thee and Manco; but tonight 
 The Inca rises. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 O my brother! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Peace; 
 
 I am the bondman, Pedro he that bears 
 Love-offerings from Pizarro Tread upon them! 
 Thus shall his neck be trampled Hark ! Away ! 
 The Viceroy ! 
 
 (Exit OOALLIE.) 
 (Re-enter Pizarro.) 
 Does my master doubt his slave? 
 Yet shall the Coya smile. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 495 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Most excellent Pedro, 
 What said the princess? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Many bitter words; 
 But by the sun, and by the saints, shall smile. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 What! Bitter words? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Hark how the heathen railed ! 
 
 What beast art thou, she cried, what wretched slave, 
 That speak st of shame to ears of Inca race! 
 That art the intercessor of a Spaniard? 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 What! what! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 That hast an arm unmanacled, 
 And strik st not at thy master! 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 By Saint Peter, 
 This is a shrewish spirit ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 A doltish slave, 
 
 That live st to see thy country spoiled; thy people 
 Trod in the bloody press of tyranny : 
 Thy monarchs gibbeted; thy daughters shamed; 
 That look st on naught but misery, havoc, ruin; 
 That nothing hear st but groans and clank of chains ; 
 Smell st but corruption; tast st but gall and dust; 
 And hast no hand for vengeance ! 
 
496 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Now, by heaven, 
 
 Thou speak st me false. A maid so meek and fearful, 
 Could not be turn d to such a fury. Speak! 
 What said she of the diamonds? 
 
 OR ALL. 
 
 Look; her foot 
 Crushed them, as adders! 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 I will find a way 
 To cast this sudden demon. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Art thou moved ? 
 
 This fume shall end, this transport rave away. 
 Thou sent st her diamonds : Wilt thou win her love, 
 Send her such gems as best should please an Inca. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Name them. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Send her a thousand Spanish heads ! 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Thou ravest ! I have observed, within this hour, 
 Strange passions in thee, fitful, fierce and wild. 
 What is the matter? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Is it here, or here? 
 
 My speech is clear is not my heart with thee? 
 Thou canst not think what rapture Spanish blood 
 Gives to an Inca ! 
 
ORALLOOSSA 497 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Nay, I know t. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Look forth 
 
 Upon the golden hills: Now all of them, 
 Those topless and magnificent old mountains, 
 With all their metals, would an Inca give, 
 To see all Spaniards carcassed at their base ! 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 A savage malice! But I think, you jest; 
 
 Else should the Coya see the Almagrists heads. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Let it be tried. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Thou shalt have full commission. 
 Win me the Coya to more gentleness. 
 Meanwhile I must give audience to Almagro; 
 And after that determine of his doom. 
 Soothe thou the princess. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 She shall be my lord s, 
 
 When o er this waspish terror. But a moment, 
 And Christian thoughts assure her. 
 
 (Exit PIZARRO.) 
 Go thy ways : 
 
 The kite is over thee, that snuffs thy blood, 
 Slayer of Incas ! and the morrow sun, 
 That, at his rise, shall altar on thy body! 
 32 
 
498 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Sire of my sires ! Peruvian deity ! 
 
 Sink smiling in thy deep tonight, tomorrow 
 
 To beam no more upon the Conqueror ! 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 END OF ACT II. 
 
ACT III 
 
 < SCENE I. A room in the palace. Enter CARVAHAL 
 and ALCANTARA 
 
 CARVAHAL 
 
 Here s mischief brewing. I would not have my name 
 Almagro, for its credit. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Faith, Pizarro 
 Is greatly vexed with him. 
 
 CARV. 
 
 Vexed! Sir, I thought 
 
 He would have bid us cut his throat i th presence, 
 And then to put such foul contempts upon him ! 
 Such slights and sarcasms as had stirred a dog 
 To snarls and fangs. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 De Castro, too, has failed 
 The audience; and this moves him. 
 
 CARV. 
 
 And the favorite, 
 
 Peruvian Pedro, what hath set him in 
 This scowling ferment ? Slife, he roams the palace, 
 Like a chained wolf. 
 
 499 
 
500 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Pizarro hath denied him 
 A boon, the first he e er denied to Pedro : 
 And, being so slight a one, it shows the stronger 
 What anger moves the Viceroy. 
 
 CARV. 
 
 What boon was t? 
 
 ALC. 
 
 He did but ask (and why he asked, is strange, 
 Since he has liberty of all his humours) , 
 To ride, upon some whim, out to the fields; 
 Which being refused, his eager spirit frets him 
 Into impatience and great discontent. 
 But let us to the presence, to observe 
 
 The issue of this fury. 
 
 (Exeunt.) > 
 
 SCENE II. A hall in the same. Enter ORALLOOSSA. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 No horse, no messenger And I an Inca. 
 Without one slave to serve me in my need ? 
 And I an Inca, still to wait the nod 
 O the white-cheeked slayer? What there! 
 (Enter OOALLIE.) 
 
 What.Ooallie! 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Oh brother, is it thou? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Who else but I? 
 Didst thou look for another? 
 
ORALLOOSSA 501 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Another! 
 
 OR ALL. 
 
 Ay; 
 
 Whom shouldst thou look for here but Oralloossa? 
 Hast thou made friends among the Spaniards ? Spurn 
 them! 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 When through the city s swarming streets they 
 
 brought me, 
 
 A miserable captive in their hands, 
 One face there was among the stranger crowd, 
 Wherein, methought, I saw a friend. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 A Spaniard ? 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Nay, of Peruvian blood. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Then, holy Sun! 
 
 Let him but look on me, and do my will, 
 And a chief s province shall be his for guerdon. 
 What, a Peruvian? 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 And of thine own blood; 
 Thy kinsman, young Almagro 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Death upon him ! 
 
 Cub of a harlot, and the Inca s shame. 
 Death on the mongrel ! 
 
502 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 O my brother! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Weak fool! 
 
 Is not the slave a Conqueror s son; and therefore 
 Thy foullest foe? As fell the blood-stained sire 
 Under my foot, so shall the mongrel son. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Alas! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 A step ! Away. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Unhappy I, 
 
 If Oralloossa hate him thus My cousin ! 
 (Enter ALMAGRO.) 
 
 ALM. 
 Ooallie! Hist! I give my life to see thee. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 I knew that thou wouldst come; thy looks assured me. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 And, as in old days, in far Cuzco, still 
 
 Creeping through perils: For know, thy love has 
 
 brought me 
 
 Under the roof of him who seeks my life, 
 And, did he see me thus with thee, would take it. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 503 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Woe s me, thou art much perilled ! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Think not of it. 
 
 Pizarro woos thee, but thou lovest not him, 
 Till the dove courts the vulture. Shallow tyrant ! 
 Thou wouldst not think how vile a thing he makes 
 
 me 
 
 Calls me to presence, to behold his ruffians 
 Heap scorns upon me, and most biting slights; 
 Then sends me, as to mark with deeper insult, 
 Untended to the doors, I thank him for t, 
 To steal about his halls, and find out thee! 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Alas, thou wilt be slain! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 But not by him. 
 
 I have a sword will all these wrongs requite, 
 And a strong hand shall make his soul account 
 For every tear he draws from thee. Assure me, 
 Thou art no willing captive! 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Shall I need? 
 Wilt thou not go back to thy father s land? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 What! Ooallie? 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 If thou stay st here, thou diest: 
 There s not an hour thou dwell st in Peru now, 
 
504 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 But is forereckoned to thee: tonight, tomorrow, 
 
 (And oh, perhaps, thou ne er shalt see the morrow), 
 
 An enemy s dagger hangs above thy life. 
 
 Fly to the sea, and farthest from Peru; 
 
 Fly now, fly quickly; and thou may st be saved! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Now, by thine eyes, thou fright st thyself for naught. 
 Pizarro cannot kill me. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 No, not Pizarro: 
 
 There s one that eyes thee with a deeper hate, 
 And more unsparing fury. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 If thou lovest me, 
 Give me that villain s name. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Oh no, no villain! 
 
 His name will fright thee : and but now he said, 
 Thou shouldst most surely die. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Why thou poor sparrow, 
 Dost thou not rave ? I have no such enemy. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 The Inca hates thee. 
 
 ALM. 
 WeakManco! 
 
ORALLOOSSA 505 
 
 00 AL. 
 
 Oralloossa ! 
 
 ALM. 
 Heaven bless thy wits The dead? 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Not dead! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 What, girl! 
 Wilt them play on me with those idle mocks? 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 I do not mock; the Inca is not dead: 
 
 But now I saw him, and did speak with him. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Oralloossa ? 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 And, in the dreadful doom he darkly ponders, 
 Thou, with the rest, wilt perish. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Spoke with him ! 
 Where? 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Here. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Here! 
 
506 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 In the palace ; his holy frame 
 Hid in a bondman s garb. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 By heaven, tis Pedro! 
 Dolt that I am! mole-blind! What does he here? 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Oh me, I know not, save to hasten forth 
 His horrible vengeance. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Ay! O noble Spirit! 
 
 This makes my daring tame; and yet shapes out 
 An easier pathway to the pinnacle. 
 I am his blood. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 He will not think of that. 
 I have betrayed him, but to save thy life. 
 Wilt thou not fly, and leave him to his deeds? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 No, by the rood, but aid him for his love; 
 And I have that will win it. Fear not thou: 
 Fate made us kinsmen, and will have us friends. 
 Hark! is t not he, along the corridor stealing? 
 I pr ythee, leave me now to speak with him : 
 And when again thou look st, thou lt see how far 
 I rest me in his love. If still thou fear st, 
 Look on us from some nook but be not seen. | 
 Away, dear Ooallie. 
 
 (She retires.) 
 
ORALLOOSSA 507 
 
 Tis marvellous! 
 
 The very madness of his savage nature! 
 <And yet most well. > 
 
 (Re-enter ORALLOOSSA.) 
 
 And now I am amazed, 
 
 That, through this shadowy garb, my sottish eyes 
 Saw not the glimmering glories of the Inca. 
 Heaven save the excellent Pedro ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Hah! A traitor! 
 And skulking through the palace! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Ay, a traitor; 
 
 <But not to thee> a traitor to thy foe, 
 But unto thee a friend. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Art thou grown mad, 
 
 That thou shouldst steal thus through Pizarro s halls 
 And rave to me so wildly ? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Hark, Peruvian; 
 Thou walk st in clouds, but still mine eye perceives 
 
 thee; 
 
 Thou art not what thou seem st, and yet art more; 
 I know thee! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Know me ? 
 
508 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALM. 
 
 And conjure thee look 
 No longer on me as thine enemy, 
 But as thy friend and servant. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Friend and servant 
 Is this the venting of thy silly spleen, 
 Or babbling of true frenzy? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Put me not off. 
 I know thee, and can serve thee; for the thing thoi 
 
 hatest, 
 
 Him will I slay; the vengeance that thou seekest, 
 That will I compass. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 If thou beest my friend, 
 Thou seest the cross I worship ! 
 
 (Draws a dagger.) 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Tis the best. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 If thou dost know me, tell me in whose side 
 It next shall rankle ? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 In Pizarro s. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 509 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Speak! 
 What hand is his that grasps it? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Would not his name 
 
 From their foundations toss these frighted walls, 
 As though an earthquake shook them? Let me know 
 
 thee, 
 Not call thee what I know thee Oralloossa! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Thou buy st thy fatal knowledge with thy life 
 Die with thy secret ! 
 
 (He offers to slay him: OOALLIE rushes in, and arrests 
 him.) 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 O my brother, strike not ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Away, thou faithless fool ! His lips have uttered 
 The doom that seals them. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Spare him, brother, spare him! 
 If thou must slay, slay me, that did betray thee, 
 Not him that s faithful. 
 
 That is my hate? 
 
 ORALL. 
 Why should I spare the life, 
 
5io DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 For that it is my love; 
 
 For that thou slay st the one that was my brother, 
 When thou wert not; that was my loyal friend, 
 When all men else, and thou with them, had fled me; 
 And for the knife thou plungest in his breast, 
 Sinks deeper into mine. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Well, get thee gone, 
 
 And let me speak with him. The thing thou loves t, 
 Should be of truth. Son of the Spaniard, speak: 
 Lovest thou the Coya? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Ay ; and for her love, 
 Forget my father and my countrymen, 
 And seal me solely thine. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Then know, her life 
 
 Gages thy truth. Away! Thy love has saved, 
 And thy life answers. Get thee hence: He lives, 
 
 And is my friend ! 
 
 (Exit OOALLIE.) 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Cousin and Inca, know me 
 Thy truest vassal. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Not that thou hast the blood 
 Of Incas, spare I thine ; but that their daughter 
 Has bought thee with her tears : and for her love, 
 
ORALLOOSSA 511 
 
 I spare and love thee; and for her sake, take thee 
 The partner of my counsels. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 But why put st thou 
 Thy greatness to this jeopardy? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 To make 
 
 My people free and great ! To win them knowledge, 
 Am I the bondman of my foe. But thou 
 Hast science of all Christian arts, and shalt 
 Instruct my people: yea, for this I ll love thee: 
 Thou makest me sooner free for my revenge ! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Thou hast, each hour, under thine arme d hand 
 Thy father s murderer. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ha, ha! to think of that! 
 The murderer of the Inca, and my father! 
 The Inca s hangman ! Ho ! and I did stand 
 Upon the hilltop when they doomed and slew him, 
 And looked down on the deed, I, I even I ! 
 And saw their felon fingers clench d upon 
 His sacred body, the immortal image 
 Torn from his brow and trampled on, and he, 
 The Inca, like a base beast, gibbeted! 
 Gibbeted, gibbeted! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Pizarro s life 
 Can ne er atone that deed. 
 
512 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 The lives of all, 
 
 Though not atone, yet shall they answer, all ! 
 All Spanish lives, or ere the morrow s sun 
 Sinks in the sea : so shall the Spaniards die : 
 Look, all they shall all die! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 What, all? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 All, all! 
 
 If thou hast kinsmen, look to give them up: 
 There is not one of all these Spanish fiends 
 Shall see the evening of that day, not one! 
 When thou seest reptiles rattling at thy feet, 
 What doest thou? Answer that. Thou crushest 
 
 them 
 
 The engendering mother and her hissing brood; 
 Thou sparest not one There s ne er a wretch of these 
 But is an obscene serpent in mine eyes. 
 Full of all venom ! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Well, I am Peruvian: 
 The Spanish blood I have, I give to thee. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Thou shalt be chief of Quito! Hark to me: 
 Tonight (and twas tonight thou shouldst have died, 
 Pizarro ordering) , Pizarro dies. 
 
 This (Displaying a golden sun.) wakes me up my 
 slumbering countrymen, 
 
ORALLOOSSA 513 
 
 And brings me Manco, with his hidden armies, 
 
 T invest the city. Take thy horse and fly, 
 
 (For on thy speed an empire hangs its fate.) 
 
 Fly to the hills, thy path on Rimac s brink; 
 
 And whatsoe er Peruvian thou seest, 
 
 Among those wilds, to him this sun display, 
 
 And bid him guide thee unto Manco : him 
 
 By this more powerful than the Christian s crown, 
 
 Command with midnight armies to the city, 
 
 To him that wears it. Thou shalt be obey d. 
 
 ALM. 
 And thou, the Inca ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 For thyself, Pizarro 
 
 Shall bid thee to a banquet. See thou come, 
 With arms about thee. Thou shalt see him die! 
 Tomorrow, when the storm of death is o er, 
 Shalt teach mine ignorant people how to hurl 
 This city of the Conquerors to the earth. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Destroy the city! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ay, the brood and lair : 
 Bury them in their gorgeous halls, and leave 
 The mouldering ruins for their monument. 
 Naught shall be spared of Spaniards, save their arts, 
 Their arts and memory detestable. 
 Away to Manco. Let him march forthwith; 
 The Inca calls him, and the hour is come! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 33 
 
5H DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SCENE III. Another room in the house. Enter 
 PIZARRO and ALCANTARA. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Concealed, thou say st? De Castro is a villain; 
 Perhaps leagued with the greater one, Almagro. 
 Cousin, these men must die. 
 
 Pedro assures me that. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 It is most safe : 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 An excellent villain ! 
 
 But for his crafty watchfulness, I think, 
 The assassins knives had reached us. 
 (Enter ORALLOOSSA.) 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Good my master, 
 Let me speak with thee. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Speak ; fear not my kinsman. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 The Almagrists ! 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Ay, speak on : He counsels with me. 
 Those men shall die. 
 
 Tonight? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Then is my master wise. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 515 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Tonight! 
 
 OR ALL. 
 
 Thou had st me find a way, 
 How they might fall, and no man look to thee. 
 
 PIZ. 
 Tis very needful. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 There is but one way. 
 Let them sup with thee 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Ha! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Relent, as though 
 
 Thou took st them to thy favor: thus invite them, 
 And let this banquet be their last. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Thou art mad! 
 
 This is the surest way to deck me ever 
 With blood, as with a scutcheon. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Hear me speak it : 
 
 Should they not, when their cups have set them mad, 
 Wax hot and insolent, and assault thy life ? 
 Thou kill st then unmasked murderers! Who shall 
 blame thee? 
 
516 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Nay, this is wisdom. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Let thy guards drink deep : 
 
 And, if thou wilt, why it was they that slew them, 
 I f the drunkard s fury it was they, not thou; 
 The servants, not the lord. The very boldness 
 Of the dark deed, conceals: How wouldst thou dare 
 To slay so openly ? Thou art innocent ! 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 My Pedro still ! Invite these vipers straight. 
 Let the guards revel ; and all curious eyes 
 Make fast with drunkenness. Have thy dagger 
 sharp. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Sharp as my hate. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Be wise. 
 (Exeunt PIZARRO and ALCANTARA.) 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ha, ha! noosed, noosed! 
 
 To strike him sleeping, were a worm s revenge; 
 To gull to grandeur, and then kill, an Inca s! 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 SCENE IV. A room in ALMAGRO S house. Enter 
 CHRISTOVAL, JUAN, and other Almagrists. 
 
 JUAN 
 
 Courage, courage! I tell thee our gallant patron 
 and <that> old < stick of brimstone > Sotela, 
 
ORALLOOSSA 517 
 
 have hatched us a plot, that will give us dinners 
 and cloaks enow; ay, and by the mass, Coyas too, 
 or I am no Christian. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 <I saw the Coya, weeping in the litter; and, by mine 
 adversity, I longed to knock him on the pate, 
 that had made her so melancholy: for a melan 
 choly woman is nothing of God s making; and he 
 that sets her in tears, is a most discreditable 
 rascal, I assure you.> But where is my cousin, 
 the Emperor? 
 
 JUAN 
 
 Why, thou knowest, he has mounted his horse, and 
 gone into the fields ; but after what roguery is not 
 yet manifest. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Yea, I remember me <and he had a face as full of 
 meaning as ever my pockets were full of rials in 
 mine own land: but wherefore I know not; only, 
 me thought, he looked more mischievous and 
 savage-like than common. > And he said, 
 there should be rare sport tonight, and many 
 kings tomorrow. 
 
 JUAN 
 
 Ay; <and bade us, as each man loved him and his 
 own good fortune, to make his house our prison, 
 until he returned, to release us. > Rare sport 
 indeed! Most unconscionable murder as one 
 may see in Sotela yonder. Look, if the old 
 dragon have not a sword in his hand ! 
 (Enter SOTELA.) 
 
5i8 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SOT. 
 
 What, ye young bloodhounds, stand ye fangless yet, 
 When older nostrils scent the coming hunt? 
 Get swords, get swords; and see ye have them sharp, 
 <So that the foe, though like a crocodile armed, 
 May find his quiet in one thrust. Get arms. 
 Each man his sword and poniard : > for ye sup 
 Tonight, sirs, with Pizarro. 
 
 JUAN 
 
 With Pizarro! 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Sup with the Viceroy! <Then, by Jupiter, 
 I have the cloak. > 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Why thou exceeding goose, 
 What think st thou thou art call d for? To make 
 
 merry, 
 
 In loving wassail? to be drunk? to dance? 
 To strut and caper with a delicate dame, 
 < Charm ears, kiss fingers and be fast enamoured ?> 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 What else? and for what else should he invite me? 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Not for thy love, but for thy life, assure thee; 
 <To give thee bread, but takes thy bones for it:> 
 To fill thee wine, and rob thee of thy blood. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 519 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 That is, to murder me, a murrain on him! 
 
 < There s naught but rogues and cutthroats in Peru. > 
 
 I ll see him hanged, ere I do sup with him. 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Nay, but thou must, and with thy sword in hand, 
 If thou canst use t. 
 
 < CHRIST. 
 
 Ne er let me see mine own land, 
 But I did buy it to kill savages. 
 
 SOT. 
 Why so thou may st; but kill me Christians first. > 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Shall we be kings though ? 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Very credible. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 And marry Coy as ? 
 
 SOT. 
 By the hundred. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Ho! 
 
 Then I m resolved. One Christian s life is nothing 
 To bargain for a crown; when Christian monarchs, 
 To keep them kings, ne er boggle at a million. 
 
520 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 <Hang one s own land there s no such windfalls 
 there. 
 
 We shall be kings all; but I claim to be 
 
 King of that land where are the handsomest wo 
 men. > 
 
 JUAN 
 
 So, by my life, our chief is back again! 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Then look to see great deeds. 
 
 (Enter ALMAGRO.) 
 
 What news, what news? 
 
 < Shall the work still go on? What news, what 
 news?> 
 
 ALM. 
 
 News of the rarest and the best. Look at me! 
 < Look I more mighty or magnanimous ? > 
 Have I a sceptre in my hands? a crown 
 Gilding my brow ? my foot upon a throne, 
 Girt by my million vassals? 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 No, by r lady: 
 You are our poor emperor, governor of Chili. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Faugh! Chili! a poor wreck of hills and sands, 
 And dwellers as untameable as they. 
 You are my masters, meditate, decide: 
 What will you have me? governor of Chili, 
 Or king of Quito ? 
 
Determine. 
 
 ORALLOOSSA 521 
 
 SOT. 
 
 When Pizarro dies, 
 ALM. 
 
 Or perhaps, (but that I ll whisper, 
 Lest greatness stun ye,) Inca of Peru! 
 
 SOT. 
 
 This is to mock us. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Inca! nay, he s mad. 
 Inca indeed! Where is the Inca, Manco? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Doing my bidding. Will ye gape, and stare? 
 Let the grim condor, on his giant wing, 
 Flap at the stars ; yet shall his flight be lowly 
 To that my destinies begin tonight ! 
 I have seen the Inca. 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Inca! What Inca! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Both 
 
 For there be two in their superb conceits. 
 < Heaven save our honesties, what a rogue is man! 
 
 As prone to knavery, as a cat to milk; 
 
 That swallows vice for daily food, and keeps 
 
 That which should be his truer sustenance, 
 
 His virtue, for a toothpick ! 
 
522 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SOT. 
 
 But the Incas? 
 Sir, the two Incas ?> 
 
 ALM. 
 
 First, imperial Manco, 
 
 That, with his sworded multitudes, lies hid 
 Among the leaves, ready to pounce upon us, 
 When he is bidden by the other Inca. 
 
 SOT. 
 
 The other Inca! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 That doth sleep among us; 
 He that was dead, but rises, Oralloossa ! 
 
 SOT. 
 What, Oralloossa? He that sleeps among us! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 We have been slumbering on a volcan s brink, 
 The earthquake gathering, but we heard it not; 
 Have seen the Inca, but we knew him not. 
 We have been fuming o er our petty vengeance, 
 While the great storm of heavier retribution, 
 <That us was e en to swallow with our foes> , 
 Was brooding round us. Oralloossa lives; 
 And he hath doomed ye. For the hate he bears ye, 
 Read it in Pedro He is Oralloossa ! 
 
 SOT. 
 That slave, the Inca! 
 
ORALLOOSSA 523 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Pedro, Oralloossa ? 
 
 < Ne er trust me now, but I did call him cur, 
 And rogue and miscreant ! > 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Be amazed, but dumb. 
 I am his trusted now; and, at his bidding, 
 Sought out his uncle, Manco, who tonight 
 Circles the city with his hordes; and when 
 The Viceroy perishes, turns his sword against 
 All Spaniards. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Here s a wolf! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 I say, fear not. 
 
 Thus Oralloossa ordered; but myself 
 More wisely. To their camp the herds shall keep, 
 All save the Inca, and his safest chiefs. 
 I will not trust the knaves too far. A year 
 Hath Manco played the Inca, and now is 
 So grown enamoured of authority, 
 He will turn rogue to hold it. Let him be Inca, 
 And ye are lords; let Oralloossa reign, 
 And not a man of ye but dies a dog s death. 
 I have saved the city and your lives ; and win 
 A Coy a, and the sceptre of the sun. 
 
 < Is t not a most brave fortune ? > 
 
 Is t Ooallie? 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Win a Coya ! 
 
524 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALM. 
 
 That name must be forgot, 
 Or life and greatness. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 I hope this knavery s honest. 
 To kill one s foe is naught; but to be traitor 
 To woman, is to be a dastard traitor. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Content you, cousin; you shall know all tomorrow. 
 No harm shall reach her; and the thing that s plotted 
 Shall hurtless end. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 What is that thing, that s plotted? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Nothing Thou art grown talkative. No more of 
 
 this. 
 
 We have fiercer work afoot. Are ye all armed? 
 I ll give ye further hints upon the way. 
 [The chief of Quito! The fiend that slew my sire 
 Would buy my vengeance with a petty crown, 
 But vengeance becks me with a dealer price, 
 Blood and the Sceptre, I will have them both.] 
 A trump will tell us when the Inca comes. 
 Keep a firm countenance, and strike no blow, 
 Till ye the trump do hear, and mark the signal : 
 No blow, I say, till I do give the signal. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
ORALLOOSSA 525 
 
 SCENE V. A Splendid Apartment in the Palace. 
 A banquet set out. Enter ALCANTARA, CARVAHAL and 
 other Gentlemen. 
 
 CARV. 
 
 I care not, I, how many throats be cut: 
 
 I hate the Almagrists. But this thing, t invite them 
 
 To share our hospitality, then murder them, 
 
 Is very knavish politics. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Yet tis necessary. 
 
 CARV. 
 
 < Nay, tis no matter. I will straight get drunk, 
 And that way end my scruples. > 
 
 ALC. 
 
 See, the Viceroy ! 
 (Enter PIZARRO, ORALLOOSSA and several Gentlemen.} 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Gentlemen all, my friends and confidants, 
 
 Why for our lives, and for the state s redemption, 
 
 We stoop to craft and perfidy, I have spoken. 
 
 Honesty for the honest, but deceit 
 
 For the deceiving ! Subtlety alone 
 
 Can guard against itself; and when we strike 
 
 These evil guests, we but forestall the blow 
 
 They aim at us. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 By all the saints, tis true: 
 They think to murder ye! 
 
526 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 And find it needful. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 We have thought it o er, 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 If ye be not quick, 
 
 There s not a man of ye but dies ! Ha, ha ! 
 The spirit of blood is rising from his den : 
 He knows, ye ll feast him! And the raven croaks 
 Upon the hill; for ye will banquet him! 
 
 CARV. 
 
 Thou mak st my blood cold. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Hark ! No words The Almagrists ! 
 Is all prepared? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 And shall my master ask ? 
 
 Had the doomed fiends this deed of midnight schemed, 
 They had not planned it better. Hark, how hollow 
 Their footsteps sound along the corridor ! 
 For all is lone and silent : Fast and dead 
 The guardsmen sleep on their drugged cups. All 
 
 silent, 
 
 Save the few watchers at the door All silent, 
 All dumb, all blind! Room for Almagro, room! 
 (Enter ALMAGRO, SOTELA, CHRISTOVAL, JUAN and the 
 other ALMAGRISTS.) 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Hail to our guests! Son of mine ancient friend, 
 Although mine enmity thou didst provoke, 
 
ORALLOOSSA 527 
 
 I put it by, and take thee to my friendship. 
 
 Let us here quench all burnings of the heart, 
 
 As scandals to the state, deformities 
 
 Upon our soldier fame ; and have all Spaniards 
 
 Dwell in forbearance, faith and amity. 
 
 What say st, Almagro? Wilt thou gage thy truth, 
 
 And sit in friendship at my board ? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 So the saints speed me, 
 It is my true desire; wherein do join me 
 These friends, whom I beseech your highness know. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 They are welcome. To your seats all, gentlemen. 
 At my right hand, Almagro; where thy sire 
 Was wont to sit. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Unworthy I, or any, 
 To hold that seat, wherein my father sat. 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 A bumper to his memory Pledge it all. 
 The noblest soldier, had he been but true, 
 E er smote a heathen. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 My lord, the noblest soldier, 
 And, by this hand, the truest! 
 
 Ptz. 
 
 Foolish boy, 
 Thou anger st me, to call him true and noble. 
 
528 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 What matchless marvels wrought he with his sword? 
 What people conquered? or what Inca slew? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Hark, hark! What Inca? Was not that great deed 
 Left for Pizarro? 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Thou shalt feast thine eyes 
 Upon the sacred robe and diadem, 
 And say, what hand but mine could pluck them off. 
 What! to my cabinet, for the Inca s spoils; 
 Tis fit I show them to this boastful boy. 
 
 (Exit ORALLOOSSA.) 
 
 Why dost thou fume? Drink to that famous deed, 
 And him that solely wrought it. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Very solely. 
 
 I thank the saints, my father but looked on, 
 And did not aid thee. 
 
 PIZ. 
 Hah! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Shall I be dumb, 
 
 When thou dost bait me with my father s wrongs 
 And mock st me with thy sins? 
 
 ALC. 
 What, foul-mouthed, sirrah? 
 
ORALLOOSSA 529 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Why didst thou call me to thy board tonight ? 
 To be thy friend, or humble laughing-stock? 
 Strong as thou art, I tell thee, churlish Viceroy, 
 My sire, that on the infamous scaffold fell, 
 Lies nobler in his bloody grave, than thou 
 Upon thy chair of greatness. 
 
 CARV. 
 
 Here is treason ! 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Peace, friends; I love the spirit of the boy, 
 Though but a mad one. Shall I make thee friend? 
 Thou art of turbulent and traitorous blood. 
 I called thee, not to give thee hope to fawn, 
 And prate thy fertile malice into favour ; 
 But to make answer, in these midnight halls, 
 For thy long pardoned frenzy. 
 
 (A trumpet is heard.) 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Look that I 
 
 Answer it not too sharply. Forsworn Viceroy, 
 Thy guile is met, thy treachery forestalled; 
 And that same trump, that speaks thy city lost, 
 Calls forth the swords that slay thee! <Draw and 
 
 smite i > 
 Throw wide the doors 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Ho, treason ! 
 
 34 
 
530 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Draw and smite ! 
 (The Almagrists attack PIZARRO and his people,) 
 
 PIZ. 
 
 Defend me, friend! What ho, my Pedro, help! 
 (ThePizarrists aredriven out; some Almagrists following.) 
 <What, Pedro, ho! What, help! the assassins strike 
 
 me! 
 Ho, Pedro !> 
 
 (Re-enter ORALLOOSSA, as Inca; and, at another 
 entrance, MANGO and Peruvian Chiefs.) 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Who calls on Pedro ? My foot upon thy neck ! 
 Look up ! tis Oralloossa calls the Inca ! 
 Slayer of Incas, he, thy slave, the Inca ! 
 Thus for my murdered sire ! thus for my people ! 
 Last of the Conquerors, thy thrall is free ! 
 
 (He kills PIZARRO. They do him homage, in a grand 
 tableau, as the Curtain falls.) 
 
 END OF ACT III. 
 
ACT IV 
 
 SCENE I. A Street in Lima. Alarums. Enter 
 DE CASTRO, ALCANTARA, CARVAHAL, and others, 
 [GONZALO]. 
 
 DE CASTRO 
 
 You see, I have authority to rule; 
 
 Pizarro being dead, my charter makes me 
 
 His successor. In the king s name obey me. 
 
 I have overlooked this deed, and ta en such measures 
 
 As now preserve you. If ye be true men, 
 
 Lead on the citizens that I have raised, 
 
 Against the palace and the murderers : 
 
 Thence gainst the brown assailants at the walls. 
 
 On, for our lives, and for your conquest, on! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE II. At the gates. Alarums. Enter AL- 
 MAGRO, MANCO, the Almagrists, Peruvian Chiefs, 
 ORALLOOSSA, and OOALLIE, retreating. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Curst be the treason, that has snatched this prey 
 Out of my grasp. False Manco, thou shalt answer 
 This city s loss. Where are those countless armies, 
 I bade thee bring me? Where those troops, should 
 
 master 
 
 The sworded citizens, whose weak arms expel us? 
 Give me my armies, or I ll have thy head! 
 
532 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALM. 
 
 It is too late. Hence to thy safer camp 
 They sally on us! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Art thou too leagued against me ? 
 Was not this city mine, with all its fiends? 
 And now mine enemy s? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 It is thine tomorrow. 
 I weep this city s loss as much as thou. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Bring up the troops. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 I say, it cannot be. 
 
 Hence to the camp, all those that love their lives. 
 Thou wilt not fight thy Spanish foes alone? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Alone, thou knave! What, are these chieftains all? 
 All that mine agent brings ? Traitorous Manco, 
 Did I not charge thee, by the Inca s emblem, 
 To bring thine armies to the citadel? 
 And hast thou brought not even to the walls? 
 What, villain uncle! 
 
 Thou speak st to 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Stop thy railing tongue: 
 
ORALLOOSSA 533 
 
 ALM. 
 
 (Apart to Manco.) 
 
 Hah not yet : Tis not yet safe 
 Thy troops are lodged hard by; and on the instant, 
 When thou hast come to them, thou shalt command 
 them. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 My railing tongue? Said Manco that to me ? 
 To Oralloossa? 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 O my royal brother, 
 
 Be not moved now; be not now angry with them. 
 They have mistaken surely not betrayed. 
 Leave first this place of peril ; then discover 
 Our uncle innocent. Speak to him, Almagro! 
 Is he not innocent, even as thyself? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Ay, by my troth as innocent as myself. 
 I hoped thou wert with the Spaniards. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Hoped? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Nay, thought. 
 
 These fierce perturbing tumults make me mad : 
 I know not what I say Hark, hark! (Alarums.) Again 
 They sally on us! Hence to the army. Come, 
 Cling to mine arm. 
 
534 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Come thou with me. This night, 
 I think all hearts are full of perfidy. 
 My trust is shaken But it is no matter: 
 I ll have them answer quickly at my feet. 
 Come thou with me, for thou art very guileless, 
 And he may be a traitor. Get ye on, 
 Unto the army; and if it be loyal, 
 All may be answered, remedied, forgotten. 
 
 (Exeunt. Alarums.} 
 
 (Enter DE CASTRO, ALCANTARA, CARVAHAL, and others 
 of the Viceroy s party.) 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Give arms to all, in the king s name to serve me, 
 His delegated presence ; give all arms, 
 That all may follow up this first success 
 Upon the routed murderers. 
 
 CARV. 
 
 Noble Viceroy, 
 
 Thine energy has saved us from these traitors. 
 Another blow advance upon the villains, 
 With whom now march the Incas; seize on them, 
 The deified barbarians, and forever 
 Secure against rebellion. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Had ye sooner 
 
 Of this most treacherous banquet given me word, 
 (As late, in loyal thoughtfulness, ye did,) 
 I had ta en them in the palace, foul Almagro, 
 The hot-brained Incas, and their bloody crew, 
 
ORALLOOSSA 535 
 
 All of them. But let each true Spaniard arm; 
 And, ere the morn, they are our prisoners. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 < My lord, bethink you now, what grievous terror 
 Besets the citizens. You beheld how bravely 
 They drove the murderers to the gates. Look now! 
 We are deserted. At the gates, they knew 
 They followed Oralloossa ! the great dead 
 Living again ! the Terrible come back, 
 And slaying in their city! Superstition 
 And terror tie them to their forted walls. 
 They will not follow us against the Inca. > 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Nay, by the rood, they shall, or fall like traitors. 
 Proclaim it instant as mine ordinance: 
 Honour and guerdon to the willing, shame 
 And axes for the fearful. Quick, delay not, 
 Or the hills shield the murderers from vengeance. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE III. Among the hills, near the Peruvian 
 Camp. Enter MANCO and ALMAGRO. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 If the gross multitudes see him, thou art lost : 
 They claim their Inca, and he claims thy head. 
 
 MANC. 
 
 I fear not that. They have forgotten him, 
 Believe him dead, and long have looked on me 
 As lord and Inca; and my voice proclaims him 
 Lunatic and impostor. All the chiefs 
 Have sworn them mine; and if the people doubt, 
 
536 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 They add their voice to his insanity. 
 
 They have denounced him such through all the ranks . 
 
 He must be silenced, ere we meet the Spaniards. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 I d have it so; or else farewell thy greatness, 
 And that I look for. 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Hark to me, Almagro, 
 
 The throne I have, thou know st, it shall be thine, 
 Make it but mine. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 I understand thee, and remember 
 Whereto I did consent. But now think better. 
 His death secures thee : think no more of her. 
 Her woman s rights are but a feeble reed, 
 Which thou may st brush aside Why shouldst thou 
 trample ? 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Is she not daughter of the Incas ? Hark ; 
 There be a thousand here, that know, and call her, 
 Atahualpa s daughter. She will bid them 
 Behold their Inca in the man we wrong, 
 And they will listen and believe. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Tis true. 
 
 Let her be prisoned somewhere in the hills, 
 Beyond the ear of doubters. 
 
 MANC. 
 
 I did think thee 
 Wiser than this. There is no place so safe, 
 
ORALLOOSSA 537 
 
 But the caged witness of a crime may speak, 
 And some one catch the echo none, but one; 
 <Dost thou not understand? No place, but one. > 
 They would demand, too, why I dungeoned her: 
 But when I doom her, as a blot that shames 
 The Inca s purity, tis the Inca s law, 
 And rightful justice; and all men are silent. 
 The maid must die, and see thou art prepared. 
 
 (Exit,) 
 
 <ALM. 
 
 And why should I not have it as he wills ? 
 Why weigh the value of a poor maid s life 
 Against the golden balance of a crown ? 
 Ambition startles not at ghastly blood, 
 Nor stumbles, conscience-harrowed, at a corse. 
 And should the aspiring man, that makes his gain 
 Of others hurts, not hurt himself for gain? 
 Not, where he stabs another for a purse, 
 Prick his own bosom, for a dearer price, 
 And wound his heart, to laurel-crown his head? 
 Blossoms of nature, ye should never grow 
 In hearts that are ambitious ; since the tempter 
 Plucks ye, like weeds, away, till naught takes root, 
 Save the rough tares of sterile selfishness. 
 Love, pity, friendship, gratitude, away 
 From such a breast, for ye would make it virtuous; 
 And, virtue, hence, for ye would keep it lowly. 
 But yet she shall not die. What, Christoval, wel 
 come ! > 
 
 (Enter CHRISTOVAL.) 
 < I did desire you. > 
 
538 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Will you tell me, cousin, 
 
 Whether or not there s such a thing as honesty 
 I say, sir, honesty grows in Peru? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Among the fools. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Why then, by this right hand, 
 I would that heaven had made me very simple, 
 < And all my friends e en noddies. Hark ye, cousin ; > 
 Tis better to be honest and a fool, 
 Than a wise man and villain. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Pho attend me. 
 I have a thing to say 
 
 < CHRIST. 
 
 Never believe me, 
 
 But there is villanous talk of treachery 
 Tow rds the young Inca, villanous treachery. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Did I not speak to thee of this before? 
 Fy; were thy prattle sure to save his life, 
 His first act would be, to make sure of thine. 
 Give me no more of this, but hearken to me. > 
 Thou askedst once, what mischief twas, was schemed 
 Against the Coya. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Ay, against the Coya. 
 
 Let me hear that, and know what precious rascal 
 Plots malice gainst a woman. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 539 
 
 ALM. 
 
 For the plotter, 
 It is her uncle, Manco. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Her uncle, Manco ! 
 A serpent-souled barbarian ! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Thou shouldst know, 
 
 The Incas held the honour of their daughters, 
 As Roman chiefs the purity of Vestals, 
 Holy and heavenly ; and its loss did visit 
 With the same punishment, a living tomb. 
 A living tomb they dig for Ooallie. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 What, slife! and you permit them? < Cousin 
 
 Almagro, 
 
 If you consent to this, you are a rogue. 
 Albeit my cousin, yet a knavish rogue. > 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Peace, interrupt me not. If I consent, 
 
 It is to save her from her uncle s hate, 
 
 Which else will find some deadlier instrument. 
 
 <I had hoped indeed she had lingered with the 
 
 Spaniards : 
 
 Captivity had saved her for a time. 
 Whate er I do, be sure, it is for good, 
 To shield my friends, and thwart my enemies. > 
 Therefore, whate er thou seest to follow now, 
 Though of a seeming front of villany, 
 Let not thy honest nature start at it. 
 
540 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 If Manco doom this princess to the grave, 
 Give not thine anger voice; for, after that, 
 If thou hast held thy peace, thine arm shall save her. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Nay, if there is no harm, I will be silent. 
 But all these crooked tricks, I like them not, 
 These dark and shuffling ways to do one good : 
 I had rather go right forward, and by daylight. 
 <But all s here full of clouds and craftiness. 
 I would I were in mine own land again : 
 There s many very honest people there. > 
 
 ALM. 
 
 I ll take thee to an aged reverend friar, 
 
 That is my friend; and show thee how, with him 
 
 To aid and counsel, when the burial s o er 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 The burial! What, they will not bury her? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 There is a cavern in the hill hard by, 
 
 Where, though walled up, a man may live for days, 
 
 And find heaven s sweet and wholesome breath still 
 
 come, 
 
 Through hidden crannies, freshly to his lips. 
 The solemn doom (a solemn mockery,) 
 No sooner o er, and friendly night returned, 
 Ye shall be ready with your picks and spades, 
 To give her life and liberty. But hark! 
 Some one approaches. By and by, I ll show thee 
 More of this matter Hah ! 
 
 (Enter OOALLIE.) 
 
ORALLOOSSA 541 
 
 < CHRIST. 
 
 TheCoya! Slife, 
 This plot against her is most damnable. > 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Is t thou, Almagro? O, I am very glad, 
 And sorry too to find thee in this camp. 
 
 ALM. 
 Thou shouldst be hidden from the people s gaze. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Tell me, Almagro, do they frown on thee too? 
 Dost thou not share his peril? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 There is no peril. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Oh, but there is, Almagro; hate and treachery 
 Working against my brother; and, I fear, 
 My uncle is not true, the chiefs disloyal : 
 They group together and, with frowning eyes, 
 Follow his steps; and he is chafed and moody. 
 Nay, I did hear them, with seditious whispers, 
 Call him a crazed impostor. Pray, believe me, 
 Nor scorn my words, because I am a foolish girl, 
 Nor think my fearful fancy coins these ills. 
 < I heard them speak, and use such scowling looks 
 As honest men ne er wear. > I saw too, when 
 My brother would have passed towards the army, 
 They raised their mutinous spears against his breast, 
 And said the Inca charged them thus. The Inca! 
 My brother is the Inca. 
 
542 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALM. 
 
 I must hence : 
 I have a duty which excuses me. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Oh, if thou leav st me, keep thine eye upon them, 
 Lest, by some treachery, they take thy life. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Away Why dost thou hold me? 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Ah, Almagro! 
 
 Have I not angered him, that he should part 
 So roughly from me? 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Princess, be of good cheer. 
 If thou suspect him for a knave, ne er trust me 
 But I am half a doubter in that kind. 
 But ne ertheless, keep thou a valiant heart; 
 For, by mine honesty, thou shalt be saved. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 / shall be saved! Why then I am in peril ; 
 And yet Almagro leaves me ! Nay, I know, 
 The rest are false, but how can he be so ? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 (Within.) 
 
 Traitors and slaves ! I ll have ye torn with dogs 
 Way for the Inca ! 
 
ORALLOOSSA 543 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Out, alas ! my brother ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 (Within.) 
 
 Traitorous chiefs ! fling ye your bodies thus 
 Before my path, and are not made my footstools? 
 Way for the Inca ! 
 
 (Enter ORALLOOSSA, followed by Peruvian 
 Chiefs.) 
 
 I will have ye thrown 
 
 To feed the crocodiles ! traitors that ye are, 
 Villains and traitors ! 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 O my brother ! Inca ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ha, ha! thou fool, call st thou this cozened slave 
 The Inca? Why thou seest, these beggar curs, 
 How they may bait me ! 
 
 00 AL. 
 
 O dear brother, hear me: 
 This place is full of treachery; thine uncle 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 My slave! 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Is turned against thee, and the chiefs 
 Basely possest. 
 
544 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Dost thou not look to die ? 
 Thou wert the gaze of one s fidelity, 
 And he is false as darkness. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 True as day; 
 
 Kill me, if he be not. Would I not die, 
 To be thy ransome from this treachery? 
 Yet is his faith more stable than my life, 
 He would not give his honour, even to save thee. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 These dogs, thou seest ! they raise their spears against 
 
 me; 
 
 They course me on, like flocking wolves, that follow 
 The wounded llama on his friendless path, 
 So do they course me wheresoe er I go. 
 Thou cozening wretch, thou bring st me to a trap, 
 Betray st me to my wolfish enemies, 
 And mak st me mad and pitiful. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 O dear brother, 
 
 Fly from their rage then, while thou may st: be safe, 
 Then kill, if I have wronged thee. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Come with me. 
 
 Here, in thine ear My uncle is a villain; 
 The chiefs are traitors. Get thee to the camp, 
 And tell my people, how, this hour, foul falsehood 
 Hedges their Inca from them. Do me this, 
 And by my father s clouded face, these rogues 
 
ORALLOOSSA 545 
 
 Shall die like dogs, like dogs! Vile runagates, 
 
 Will you permit your Inca seek your Inca, 
 
 And do obeisance to him ? Inca to Inca ? 
 
 Will you permit him? Follow, curs, and help him 
 
 To work this regicidal sacrilege. 
 
 Follow me, curs the Inca to the Inca ! 
 
 (Exeunt ORALLOOSSA and OOALLIE, sever 
 ally, and each followed by Chiefs.) 
 
 SCENE IV. Before the Peruvian Camp. MANCO 
 throned, and surrounded by the Almagrists and Chiefs. 
 Peruvians covering the hills. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Why look ye gloomy, soldiers of Castile, 
 
 Upon this strange and solemn preparation ? 
 
 Call it perfidious and dishonourable, 
 
 Call it impiety and ingratitude; 
 
 Yet is this deed, as none but this can be, 
 
 The warrant of your lives, your weal, and fortunes. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 (Within.) 
 Way for the Inca ! 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Stand all fast and ready, 
 Lest in his fury and his desperation, 
 His arm be fatal. 
 
 Weaponless to us. 
 
 35 
 
 ALM. 
 Fear not thou; he comes 
 
546 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 (Within.) 
 Way for the Inca, way ! 
 
 (Enter ORALLOOSSA, followed by Chiefs, who occupy 
 the entrances.) 
 
 Villain and slave, that sit st upon the throne, 
 Tell me (for these strange sights and stranger deeds, 
 These marvellous, monstrous jugglings of today, 
 Have set me mad). What insane wretch art thou, 
 And these about thee? What am I, that creep, 
 Among Peruvians, hunted and opposed, 
 Frowned on, surrounded, met by clubs and spears, 
 And bade to call thee Inca ? What art thou ? 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Manco, the Inca. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Hah! the Inca, Manco? 
 
 MANC. 
 And thou, 
 
 ORAtL. 
 
 Andl?- 
 
 MANC. 
 
 That most unhappy madman, 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Madman ! 
 
ORALLOOSSA 547 
 
 MANC. 
 
 That, in the Viceroy s fall and death, 
 Didst well deserve our favour and affection ; 
 But by the form which thy distraction takes, 
 (At no less aiming than the name and rule 
 Of perished Oralloossa,) now dost force us 
 To put restraint upon thee. 
 
 Am I not Oralloossa? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Perished Oralloossa! 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Thou, poor maniac ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Look on me, Manco, brother of my sire, 
 I will forgive thee, if thine eyes are dim, 
 Aged and dim Look on me, knave forsworn! 
 Unnatural uncle! ere I take thy life; 
 Look on my face, and leave thy stolen throne, 
 And sue for pardon, ere I slay thee. 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Rail on; 
 
 Yet art thou safe in thine infirmity. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Speak him, Almagro, if thou art not false; 
 Tell thou mine uncle, tis the Inca speaks. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Marry not I. I know thee very well, 
 
 Pedro the bondman, my great sire s betrayer; 
 
548 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 For which black deed, the heavens have struck thy 
 
 brain 
 With this sore madness. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Talk st thou of betraying? 
 Now can I think that I indeed am mad, 
 To think thee honest to thy love or me. 
 Doth no one know me ? None of those, for whom 
 I sold my heritage? What, not thou? nor thou? 
 Chiefs that have battled at my side, and struck 
 For Peru and for Oralloossa? Death ! 
 Ye stony traitors, have ye all forsook me? 
 Hark ! Ye Peruvians thronging on the hills, 
 My children and my people ! look upon me : 
 I am your Inca, and will ye forsake me ? 
 For ye, I gave my sceptre to mine uncle; 
 To win ye wisdom, made myself a slave; 
 To quell your foes, and make ye free and great, 
 Wrapped the pure lustre of my dignity 
 In a foul cloak of treachery and lies, 
 In servile, base and currish occupation, 
 And slew for ye your blood-stained Conquerors. 
 Speak forth, Peruvians, did I do ye this, 
 And now no more ye know your Inca? Hah! 
 Are ye all turned to stones? What, not one voice, 
 To bid me welcome to my throne again? 
 Nay, then tis true; and I or rave or sleep; 
 And Oralloossa is a dream. Almagro, 
 Dost thou remember Ooallie? Bethink thee, 
 And say, thou didst not set them on to this ; 
 Say, thou hast no part in this treachery. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 549 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Then should I lie, more deeply than when first 
 
 I trapped thy soul. Thou devilish villain! thou, 
 
 Steeped to the liver in my father s blood, 
 
 His friend and viper, his trust and his destroyer, 
 
 Bane of his fortunes, and the tool of mine, 
 
 Will it not smite thy cozened heart, to know 
 
 I used thee? I enthralled thee? and did make thee, 
 
 When thou wert wisest, then the most my fool, 
 
 When thou wert freest, tnen the most my slave? 
 
 Thou think st, tis Manco and thy people doom thee: 
 
 Be this thy comfort it is I that do it! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 The thunder sleeps: else should two hot bolts strike 
 
 us 
 
 Me for my madness, thee for thy deceit. 
 I was very honest with thee, and did mean thee 
 More, for the Coya s sake, than thou didst dream. 
 But tis no matter now : I am not Inca. 
 Perhaps ye will kill me Pray ye, do it quick: 
 All here is withered, and I should not live: 
 I only breathe and dream, no more. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 (Within,} 
 
 Ho, brother! 
 
 Almagro, brother! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Another victim for ye! 
 
550 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 (Enter OOALLIE, pursued. ORALLOOSSA seizes her.) 
 
 Look, thou infernal and pernicious fiend! 
 
 This was thy gage, and now shall perish for ye ! 
 
 (They rush towards him.) 
 Ha ! ha ! a knife blood blood 
 (He falls in a swoon.) 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Alas, my brother ! 
 
 Help, help, Almagro! Do not tear me from him: 
 There s none but me to love him. O Almagro! 
 Thou shouldst not do this thing. 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Drag her away. 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 Wilt thou (To ALM.) not look upon me? Pray you, 
 
 uncle, 
 Let not my brother die. 
 
 (They raise up ORALLOOSSA.) 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Thy brother, woman! 
 Is this the sequel of thy shame? that thou, 
 To be defended in thy wantonness, 
 Leagu st with this man, and madly call st him Inca? 
 Unhappy wretch, mark thou the punishment. 
 Chiefs and Peruvians, behold the daughter 
 Of Incas, and the Conqueror s paramour! 
 Her doom is spoken by our ancient laws : 
 A grave for her dishonour. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 551 
 
 GOAL. 
 
 mine uncle ! 
 
 Almagro, speak; am I not innocent? 
 God of the sun, thou turn st away thine eyes! 
 Brother and Inca! hark, they doom my death: 
 Thou art the Inca, and canst save me. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 I! 
 
 Save thee? a paramour? the laws? a grave? 
 Thou root st out all my father s drooping stock, 
 Nor leav st a leaf to wither. Now I know thee! 
 Why should I speak with thee, that art a fiend? 
 I ll turn me to the Spaniards. Hark, Almagro: 
 Thou hast undone me I forgive thee that ; 
 Cajoled me to the grave but I forgive thee: 
 Thou art not yet so base as mine own people : 
 I say, I pardon thee But look to her; 
 It needs not she should die. Art thou still silent? 
 Thou know st, thou hell-cat, that, when I had doomed 
 
 thee, 
 
 This young wretch saved; my knife was at thy throat, 
 When she unedged it; I did seek thy heart, 
 And she did shield thee with her bosom. Look, 
 She is very innocent, very pure and sinless: 
 Wilt thou not save her? Q then madness seize thee, 
 Leper thy brain, and break thy heart by inches! 
 Spaniards, that are my hateful enemies, 
 Can ye look on, and see this maiden murdered? 
 Innocent murdered ? 
 
 Cousin Almagro 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 By our lady, no ! 
 
552 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Hist ! Art thou grown mad ? 
 Remember ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 I did wrong thee. Speak again : 
 
 Thou art his kinsman Nay, and so am I : 
 
 That will not move. But speak again, I pray thee. 
 
 Wilt thou be silent, when thy voice can save her? 
 
 MANC. 
 
 The doom is past the sin is manifest. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 False churl, thou doom st her with a lie ! 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Away! 
 
 (They seize upon OOALLIE and ORALLOOSSA.) 
 Away with both. Our laws cannot be broken. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Grant she be doomed then by those laws, base uncle, 
 I am the Inca, and I abrogate them. 
 She shall not die. 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Away with both the madman 
 Unto his cell, the Coy a to her grave ! 
 
 (ORALLOOSSA and OOALLIE are forced away at different 
 sides, as the curtain falls.) 
 
 END OF ACT IV. 
 
ACT V 
 
 SCENE I. The Camp of the Peruvians. Enter 
 ALMAGRO, SOTELA, CHRISTOVAL, JUAN, and other 
 Almagrists. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Frown not upon me, friends, nor, rashly angered, 
 Thwart the fair fortunes that now smile upon us. 
 The foulest chapter of our fate is done, 
 And all the rest is just and prosperous. 
 
 SOT. 
 
 If he, that s chained now in yon crag-built tower, 
 Be Oralloossa, that which follows after, 
 Cannot be just; but tis enough, tis wise. 
 Doth he still live? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Ay, if his spirit s fire 
 
 Have left it unconsumed. Leave him to Manco. 
 I heard the Inca give to certain chiefs 
 Such hints, as are a sentence. 
 
 SOT. 
 
 And the Coy a ? 
 
 Shall she still slumber in the dreary cave ? 
 
 553 
 
554 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Tis now the hour the priest should be prepared. 
 What say st thou, cousin? 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 I wait his reverence. 
 
 He hath gone into the dungeon, to prepare 
 The downfaln Inca for his doom: God speed him. 
 Tis time the picks were plying; for no man 
 Can say what horrors, in that secret den, 
 May war with life. < I would I were home again ! > 
 The Viceroy s army too approaches us : 
 Who knows, these fooled Peruvians will fight 
 For any chief, but him that s their true master? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Fear not for that. Friends to your posts and charges. 
 < Come thou (To CHRIST.) with me. I must instruct 
 
 thee yet 
 What more to counsel for this luckless maid. > 
 
 (Exeunt.) l 
 
 1 The acting version eliminates Sc. II, but adds at this point 
 the following lines, connecting Sc. I and Sc. III. 
 
 [ Tis Juan comes what s this his changed face, 
 
 Pale herald of calamity? (Enter JUAN.) 
 
 Thou has been fellow to a fear. 
 
 What hast thou known? 
 
 JUAN 
 
 A doom d one s desperation, 
 
 Oralloossa s rage the Friar s mortal throes. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 The Friar s. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 555 
 
 < SCENE II. A room in an old tower. ORALLOOSSA 
 discovered. Enter the Priest and a Peruvian Chief. 
 
 PRIEST 
 
 Is that the prisoner? Miserable wretch! 
 Nay, get thee gone; leave me alone with him, 
 To work upon his spirit as I may. 
 
 (Exit Chief.) 
 
 Captive, arise; the fatal hour comes on, 
 
 When thou must hide thy misery in the grave. 
 
 Are thy chains heavy, that thou canst not rise? 
 
 JUAN 
 
 Cold as the caverned rocks he lies, 
 The cell unbarred the Inca strangled him ; 
 The arrowy sun shaft flashed athwart the gloom, 
 Its potent ray aroused from seeming death. 
 The prisoner s mighty form, with fierceness fired. 
 "My father, lo!" he cried, and madly shook 
 Aloft his iron bonds the Friar quailed; 
 Overcome by terror to the earth he fell, 
 And on his throat the furious Indian trod. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 The aged prelate slain ! 
 
 JUAN 
 
 Mine were his dying words 
 The prisoner. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Aye of him. 
 
 Tracking his path with gall. 
 
 Strike for your lives.] r 
 1 See Sc. III. 
 
 JUAN 
 
 He fled afar, 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Escaped. 
 
556 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Chains? Look they have rotted. But there was no 
 
 need, 
 
 When my heart wither d. Art thou come to slay me? 
 My breast is open to thee Strike, and deeply: 
 Twere better I were graved. 
 
 PRIEST 
 
 Unhappy prince, 
 My mission is of mercy, not of murder. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Wilt thou not strike? But that thou know st, to kill 
 
 me 
 
 Would do me joy, thou wouldst not falter now. 
 All things oppress; the very chains drop off, 
 To mock me with the thought of liberty. 
 But then the iron still is at my heart. 
 
 PRIEST 
 
 Alas, no longer ponder on thy griefs; 
 
 But give thy thoughts to death, and that that s after. 
 
 Thou wert a Christian once, and shouldst be yet. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 I was an Inca once, and should be yet; 
 That was a dream: I was a man, and should be; 
 But that was madness. Like the fool, that lies 
 On earth and rags, and dreams his soul inhabits 
 The golden-canopied chambers of a palace, 
 So lay I on my bleak and flinty floor, 
 
ORALLOOSSA 557 
 
 And built me gorgeous nothings ; wherein I moved 
 Among sweet visages, but they were fiends. 
 They wreathed a coronet round my brow twas fire ; 
 And round mine arm the royal mantle ashes : 
 Made me a sceptre of a chain and look! 
 Tis broke my sceptre and my chain: And lo, 
 A delicate angel grew upon mine eye 
 Dust, dust and death! 
 
 PRIEST 
 
 No more of this bethink thee ; 
 But of thy holy faith, and of thy sins; 
 Of death and judgment, for they come upon thee; 
 Of heaven and hell; of those that watch thy fate, 
 The awaiting angels 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Fiends and demons all! 
 There was but one that was an angel, and 
 The clod lies on her bosom. Wilt thou kill me? 
 Behold, I will not harm thee. If I broke 
 The links that bound me, wherefore should I fly? 
 And whither? I should hunt me but a grave. 
 Silence, and darkness, and forgetfulness. 
 
 PRIEST 
 
 Ah me, the grave is nearer than thy wish. 
 The coming Viceroy fills all with affright, 
 And hurries on thy execution. 
 
 I slew the Viceroy ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 The Viceroy ! 
 
558 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PRIEST 
 
 Yes, cajoled Pizarro. 
 
 Another holds the sceptre, and with armies 
 Hourly increasing, in these hills surrounds us. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 With Spaniards? 
 
 PRIEST 
 
 Ay. And had they but a guide, 
 To thread the desert paths unto our camp, 
 We needs must perish. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Hah, hah! The sun is up! 
 The cloud has left his frowning countenance, 
 And I shall set with splendour. Hearken, man! 
 Ere I do die, the demons that betrayed me, 
 Shall know the avenger! Yea, I will live on, 
 To make requital. For the knaves that marred me, 
 They shall e en perish; for those things, that were 
 My house, and knew me not, my forsworn people, 
 That cast me off, I give them to the enslaver ! 
 Fit for naught else it is their destiny ! 
 
 PRIEST 
 
 Do me no violence 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 To my dungeon door! 
 To bid my keeper open to thee. If 
 Thou stirr st, or speak st a word but that I bid thee, 
 I ll hurl thee from the cliff, to feed the condors. 
 Bid him to open wide, and for my vengeance! 
 
 (Exit, dragging the Priest. )> 
 
ORALLOOSSA 559 
 
 SCENE III. A part of the Peruvian Camp. Cries 
 and shouts. Enter ALMAGRO, SOTELA, CHRISTOVAL, 
 and JUAN. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Strike for your lives ! A thousand marks of gold 
 To him that stops or slays him. 
 
 SOT. 
 
 Nay, tis fruitless. 
 
 Heaven, that was angered at our treachery, 
 Preserves him for our punishment. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Behold! 
 
 They flag, and follow not ! < Oh heaven, with curses 
 Punish this villain priest ! 
 
 SOT. 
 
 And has heaven not? 
 His mangled corse at the rock s basis lies, 
 The first blood-offering of our destiny. 
 And what shall follow now but woe and ruin?> 
 He will gain from us his Peruvians, 
 And leave us friendless to the Viceroy. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Yea: 
 
 This is t to be dishonest! I did think, 
 
 There could no good come of such knavish ways. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Why dost thou prate thus ? All is not yet lost. 
 Interest and fear must keep the Inca ours; 
 And a quick moved assault of all our forces, 
 May lame, or kill, the enemy. 
 
56o DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SOT. 
 
 This is best, 
 Instant assault. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Why I will fight with any. 
 But while we talk of death, must we forget 
 The buried princess? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Do what thou wilt, and quickly. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 It is this wrong to her that weighs thee down, 
 And sets the Saints against thee. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Save her life. 
 
 If that thou canst, and now no more reproach me. 
 Hence to the cave: and come with me, the rest, 
 To spur the Inca to some stratagem, 
 Some feat, may save us, though the captive fly. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE IV. The Viceregal Camp. Enter DE 
 CASTRO, ALCANTARA, and other Spaniards. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 This is the act of madness, Oralloossa, 
 
 The only leader that could general them, 
 
 Dethroned; and, in his place, the fireless Manco, 
 
 Or the hot boy, Almagro. It is thus, 
 
 Heaven, when twould punish treachery, doth arm 
 
 Its rage against itself. It is the scorpion, 
 
ORALLOOSSA 561 
 
 Girded by fiery troubles, whose mad fury 
 Finds all its venom aimed but at itself. 
 Was it not said, they had resolved his death ? 
 
 ALC. 
 Even so, my lord. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Their anger aids us well. 
 
 That fallen chief, ere this, had struck some blow; 
 But they deliberate. 
 
 ALC. 
 
 Were it not safest, 
 
 T entrench here quickly, lest their countless thousands 
 Should e en surround us? 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Nay, we will march on, 
 And with no fear of this rude multitude. 
 < The virtue of an army lies not in 
 The stormy members, but in the sole head 
 That guides and governs, in our day, at least, 
 While men, like ignorant beasts of burthen, only 
 Do well, when well directed : The self same squadrons, 
 With that man, who will conquer all the world, 
 With this, will fly the mere frown of a foe. 
 Perhaps, in future times, when men become, 
 What heaven ordained them, each himself a man, 
 The vigour then of martialness will rest 
 Less with the leader than the led; and armies, 
 Ungeneralled, unadvised, will deeds achieve, 
 That shall fill earth and history with their glory. > 
 
 36 
 
562 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Find me a guide can lead me through these rocks, 
 And ye shall see these madmen at our feet. 
 What thing is that what shape of dust and blood 
 They bring before me? Speak, what art thou? 
 
 (Enter CARVAHAL [CORDOVA] leading ORALLOOSSA, 
 wounded.) 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Vengeance ! 
 I shall not die, until I have my vengeance. 
 
 CARV. 
 
 This man, my lord, our advanced posts received, 
 A fugitive from the foe, and hotly followed, 
 And as thou seest, pursued almost to death. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 What art thou, bleeding wretch? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Your slave, the Inca ! 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Hah ! dost thou say ? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Your slave, the holy Inca! 
 
 King of these hills and herds, your self -sworn slave: 
 Child of the deity, and yet your slave; 
 That wretch, that slave, the Inca Oralloossa! 
 
ORALLOOSSA 563 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Most wretched man, art thou at last forsook 
 
 Of those that spurred thee to thy deeds of blood? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Forsook, cast off, cajoled, betrayed, destroyed! 
 My people gave me to mine enemies. 
 Fettered and mocked me, smote me on the face, 
 And filled my body with these wells of death, 
 And sent me to the Spaniard for revenge ! 
 I am thy slave now ; put thy chains upon me, 
 And let me serve thee! I will teach thee how 
 To creep upon those wolves, that were Peruvians, 
 And smite them with the sword. They gave me up, 
 And I do give them to thee for a prey, 
 To be your footballs and your slaves forever. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Poor wretch, thou ravest! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Art thou not a man? 
 
 And wilt thou not have blood ? Chain me, and follow : 
 Thou shalt have Manco for thy knife ; Almagro 
 For ropes and flames; my people for your beasts. 
 They would be slaves, and I will have them so. 
 Will you your anger and your vengeance glut ? 
 Will you have blood? Almagro s blood? his heart s 
 
 blood? 
 
 Chain me and follow me, ye shall have all; 
 For your revenge but bears me on to mine. 
 
564 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 <DE CAST. 
 
 How shall I trust thee, that hast ever been 
 The foe of Spaniards? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Am not I indeed 
 
 Helpless and miserable wounded now to death ? 
 And will ye talk of doubting? Am not I 
 The only one can guide ye through these hills ? 
 Put chains upon me, if ye ll have it so; 
 And ready let some stand with spears, to slay me, 
 When I deceive, or when the slaughter s o er: 
 Let me but live to see t, and live no longer. > 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Guide me with faith, and I will set thee yet 
 Upon thy father s throne. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Tis fallen forever. 
 
 There is no Inca, and no more shall be. 
 Give me my vengeance, and my father s grave: 
 It is enough. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 First let thy wounds be stanched. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Will ye then palter, till I die? Advance, 
 
 While I have strength to lead ye. Follow now. 
 
 Manco ! I come Let me but live to see it ! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
ORALLOOSSA 565 
 
 SCENE V. Before the Cavern. Enter CHRISTOVAL, 
 JUAN, and several other Spaniards, with picks and crows. 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 This is the cave. Hark ! dost thou hear no voice ? 
 
 Hist, princess ! Ooallie ! Now by this hand, 
 
 My blood runs chilly. Should the fright have slain 
 
 her! 
 
 Or some foul reptile, here walled up with her! 
 It was the rankest villany. Look thou out 
 
 (To JUAN, who with one or two others retires). 
 That none approach us. Would I were home again ! 
 Give me a pick. Toil with your greatest speed, 
 And all in silence, lest fierce Manco hear. 
 Wrench out these stones : they keep from heaven s fair 
 
 light 
 The lovingest wretch that ever man betrayed. 
 
 (A shout.) 
 What is the matter ? 
 
 JUAN 
 Fly ! We are surprised 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 (Within.) 
 
 Strike them, and give no mercy ! Did I not tell ye 
 Ye should destroy them? Ha, Ha! 
 
 (Enter ORALLOOSSA, DE CASTRO, ALCANTARA, and 
 others of the Viceroy s party.) 
 
 < CHRIST. 
 
 Give the alarm ! > 
 
566 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 A Spaniard! Hah, a murderer! 
 
 (He wounds CHRISTOVAL, who is supported. The others 
 of his party are driven out.) 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 I am slain. 
 
 Art thou the Inca ? Then this blow repays 
 Much of thy grief; but strikes the innocent. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Nay, now I know thee ! 
 I am sorry I did strike thee, for thou wert 
 The only honest villain of them all, 
 And the poor fool that spoke for Ooallie ! 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 Ay, Ooallie! that is the Coya s name. 
 
 The heavens have smote thee with sore madness, Inca: 
 
 Thou fight st against thyself; <each thrust is aimed 
 
 Against thy dearest hopes; each blow falls on 
 
 Some one that serves thee. > When thou slew st the 
 
 friar, 
 Thou kill dst thy sister. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Hah! 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 That man was sworn 
 
 To pluck her from the tomb, < and would have done it, 
 Hadst thou not killed him. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 567 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Misery! Speak on 
 I slew mine only friend ! 
 
 CHRIST. 
 
 No, not thine only. 
 
 I am the last and only;> me thou killest 
 For the same office. Look, this is the cavern, 
 Wherein she lies; and, with these picks, came I, 
 If not too late, to draw her forth. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ah ! wretch ! 
 Wretch that I am, I strike at all that love me. 
 
 (CHRISTOVAL is led out.) 
 
 Mad, very mad! the deity has left me. 
 Do ye stand still? Toil for your lives, toil all! 
 Quick, quick, if ye be men She is not dead! 
 Toil, toil, toil, toil! 
 
 (He rolls away the stones from the cavern, and others 
 assist him.) 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 This is a sad mishap. 
 
 Most wretched prince, thy strength is not for this. 
 Come <thou aside, > and let my people toil. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 There pause! put arms to this Hark, hark, I 
 
 hear her ! 
 
 She screams for succour! Stand away Ha, ha! 
 I hear her ! Ooallie ! 
 
 (He enters the cave.) 
 
568 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 This is the saddest 
 
 Of all this war s most sad occurrences. 
 Quick ! Give him aid 
 
 (Re-enter ORALLOOSSA, from the cave, bearing OOALLIE 
 dead.) 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Fresh air ! a drop of water ! 
 Look, if she live ! Why princess ! sister ! wake ! 
 Nay, she is very cold. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Thy care is vain. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Save but her life, and I will live your slave, 
 And love ye ! O ye have some Christian arts 
 Might make her breathe again ! What if she be 
 So still and cold tis but a swoon. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Away 
 This is no swoon, but death. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Yea! Misery 
 
 Strikes sorest at the innocent. Thou seest! 
 She was my sister. Well, take her from my sight. 
 She was the only angel in mine eye 
 Mine orphan sister A soft and loving heart 
 A meek and gentle spirit A very warm soft heart 
 Ice, ice! Take her away 
 
 (She is carried back to the cavern.) 
 
ORALLOOSSA 569 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Unhappy prince! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Black, bloody, fiendish Let the murderers die! 
 Almagro Manco Dead my sister Blood ! 
 (He swoons.) 
 
 <DE CAST. 
 
 What, doth he follow her? Nay, he will revive. 
 Lay him i the cavern at her side, until 
 The assault be o er. And let each heart remember, 
 When armed against th Alrnagrists, twas Almagro 
 That wrought this frightful and this cruel deed : 
 Remember this, and as ye strike, revenge!> 
 (Alarums. The scene closes, as they go out, and as 
 some carry ORALLOOSSA to the cave.) 
 
 SCENE VI. In the Peruvian Camp. Enter AL 
 MAGRO, SOTELA, MANCO, and several Chiefs. Alarums. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Assailed ? and now forsaken by the Inca ? 
 
 SOT. 
 
 It is the fruit of one unhappy error. 
 
 Speak thou with Manco, with what fire thou canst; 
 
 I to the lines, to check the foe awhile. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Why dost thou falter, Inca? Bid thy people 
 Rush on the foe: their numbers will o erwhelm him. 
 
570 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Thou hast deceived me, Spaniard. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 I have made thee 
 
 Inca; and, for thy aims, have blurred my name 
 With a foul act : And wilt thou now desert me ? 
 
 MANC. 
 
 My people will not fight: they steal away; 
 
 The chieftains fly with them, and say, twas thou 
 
 Unchained the captive, who is with the Viceroy. 
 
 ALM. 
 Foul liars all ! The Inca with the Viceroy ! 
 
 MANC. 
 Was it not he, that slew thy cousin? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 My cousin slain? 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Even at the cave, where thou 
 Didst plot new treachery treachery to me ; 
 For which I leave thee to thy fate. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 O heavens, 
 
 Comes it to this? I pray thee, leave me not : 
 I broke no faith with thee. Or, if thou fliest, 
 Leave me some succour from thy thousands. 
 
ORALLOOSSA 571 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Not one. 
 
 They do my bidding, when they leave thee, scatter 
 ing 
 Each for his hiding place. They are dispersed. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Dispersed ! Nay then, false churl, thou hast destroyed 
 
 me. 
 
 And yet, I pray thee, for thy own good weal, 
 (For, without me, thou art no longer monarch,) 
 Leave me not rashly. 
 
 MANC. 
 
 Ay farewell : thy destiny 
 Is dark ning, and thy planet sinks to night ; 
 And all that rest with thee, will perish with thee. 
 
 (Exit MANGO, with the Chiefs.) 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Perfidy, perfidy! thy sting is now 
 In mine own bosom. 
 
 (Alarums. . . . Enter JUAN.) 
 
 What! why fliest thou? 
 r <Back with me to the front for death or victory !> 
 
 JUAN 
 
 <For death alone. Fly, if thou canst, and fleetly. > 
 The lines are forced, the foes are at my back; 
 Thy friends are slain. 
 
 1 The acting version transposes this line to the third speech of 
 Almagro below. " Now is my falsehood," etc. 
 
572 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Where is Sotela? 
 
 JUAN 
 
 Dead: 
 All dead, or captive. Hark! 
 
 Back to our friends! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 They call forme! 
 
 JUAN 
 
 They are thy foes, that call. 
 Wilt thou be ta en, to die upon a block? 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Now is my falsehood punished! Do not leave me. 
 (Exeunt ALMAGRO and JUAN.) 
 
 (Enter, at the opposite side, DE CASTRO, ALCANTARA, 
 and others of the Viceroy s party.} 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 It is a victory: But follow on. 
 Rewards and honour to the man that takes 
 Alive the rebel murderer, Almagro. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 SCENE VII. Before the Cavern. Distant shouts. 
 
 <JUAN 
 (Within.) 
 Fly save thyself I die! > 
 
 (Shouts. Enter ALMAGRO.) 
 
ORALLOOSSA 573 
 
 ALM. 
 
 What, left alone! 
 
 All dead, that followed me ! O heaven, I feel 
 The arrow that thou strikest through my soul ! 
 Would I had died in innocence, or ere 
 I gave me up to comfortless ambition. 
 (Shouts.) 
 
 They come! Some nook for present shelter! Here, 
 This rock s abyss, that yawns like hell before me, 
 Yet courts me on A rock to cover me ! 
 (He enters the cave.) 
 
 SCENE VIII. The interior of the Cavern. The 
 body of OOALLIE on a distant shelf. ORALLOOSSA dis 
 covered reviving. Distant shouts. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ah ! gloom, black gloom Among the world of spirits, 
 
 But solitary. Yet the curses ring, 
 
 And the long yells, as on the madding earth; 
 
 And the pang quivers in my flesh, and darkness 
 
 Covers my brain, as all were mortal still. 
 
 Again ? again ? And where be those that shriek ? 
 
 Ah ! but I dreamed her corse was at my side, 
 
 And her cold cheek upon my breast. An Inca, 
 
 Shut in the funeral cave Again? Approach, 
 
 If ye be fiends, and look upon a man 
 
 Worn with more miseries than yourselves! Oho! 
 
 (Enter ALMAGRO. Shouts) 
 
 They come, they come ! and this one hath an aspect 
 Of a thrice damned demoniac! 
 
574 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Yet am I safe.- 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Ah, they follow! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ha, ha! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 O saints, a voice, 
 
 Howling with laughter, in this pit! A man! 
 What art thou? Speak! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ha, ha ! The sun, the sun ! 
 He will not have his child go darkling down ! 
 Thou beest Almagro ! ho ! Almagro ! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 Heaven ! 
 And thou? 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 The miserable. Look, thou man, 
 That turn dst this day to darkness, and, from thrones, 
 Com st to the den where Ooallie doth lie. 
 
 ALM. 
 
 O Christ, her grave, her grave ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Yea, in her grave, 
 The fiend that filled thee with her blood, hath left 
 
 thee; 
 He gives thee to me, gives to Oralloossa! 
 
ORALLOOSSA 575 
 
 Lo, buried Incas ! he that broke your sceptre, 
 Is in my hand ! Look up, dead Ooallie, 
 The slayer perishes ! 
 
 ALM. 
 
 O, mine arm is nerveless ! 
 (ORALLOOSSA strikes him down.) 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 My uncle chained me, it was thou that taught him; 
 My people left me, it. was thou corrupted; 
 My sister perished, it was thou that doomed her ! 
 The Inca wept but is I that smite thee ! 
 
 (He stabs him. Enter DE CASTRO, and the rest.) 
 
 DE CAST. 
 This way he fled What ! tear them asunder ! 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Ho! 
 (He kills ALMAGRO.) 
 
 Thy blood is mixed with mine. 
 
 DE CAST. 
 
 Raise up his head. 
 
 ORALL. 
 
 Hard by the victim Look it is accomplished. 
 Grind them to dust ! I give them for thy slaves 
 The maid! the murderer! To the grave The 
 Inca. 
 
 (He dies. Tableau.) 
 
 THE END. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 
 
 The following text of The Broker of Bogota is 
 based primarily upon the complete manuscript 
 copy, made by Mrs. Bird, wife of the dramatist, 
 in the collection of Bird papers at the Library 
 of the University of Pennsylvania. In the collec 
 tion are also two autograph copies of the play, 
 both incomplete. The text has also been collated 
 with the acting version in the Edwin Forrest 
 Home at Holmesburg, Pennsylvania. Additions 
 from this version are indicated by square brack 
 ets; omissions of word, line, or scene are enclosed 
 in brackets of this form : < > . 
 
 The Broker of Bogota was finished in January, 
 1834, an d first produced by Edwin Forrest at the 
 Bowery Theater, New York, on February I2th 
 of the same year. Its success was marked and 
 immediate, the part of Baptista Febro becoming 
 a permanent role in Forrest s repertoire. 
 
 37 577 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 
 A TRAGEDY 
 
 579 
 
CHARACTERS 
 
 MARQUES de PALMERA, Viceroy of New Granada. 
 FERNANDO, his son. 
 BAPTISTA FEBRO, the broker. 
 
 RAMON \ , . 
 
 _ r his sons. 
 
 FRANCISCO ) 
 
 MENDOZA, a merchant, father of JUAN A. 
 
 ANTONIO de CABARERO, a profligate, friend of RAMON. 
 
 PABLO, an inn keeper. 
 
 SILVANO, servant of FEBRO. 
 
 LEONOR, daughter of FEBRO. 
 
 JUANA, daughter of MENDOZA. 
 
 Gentlemen of the Court, Citizens, Alguazils. 
 
 SCENE, Santa Fe de Bogota. 
 
 580 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 
 ACT I 
 
 SCENE I. The Street near FEBRO S house. (Enter 
 MENDOZA and RAMON.) 
 
 MENDOZA. 
 
 You have your answer. Come no more near my house : 
 I ll have no disobedient, disinherited sons there. 
 <Come no more near to me. > 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Senor Mendoza, you make my unhappiness my crime 
 and condemn me for my misfortune. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Truly, I have so learned to criminate misfortune ever 
 since I found that, when one grief springs from ill 
 fate, twenty come from our own faults. I have 
 never known a young man sink in the world, 
 without finding he had overburdened himself with 
 follies. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 If you will listen to me, I will show you how much you 
 wrong me. 
 
 58i 
 
582 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Wrong you? I wrong you not: you are your own 
 wronger. < I should be glad to be rid of you. > 
 
 RAM. 
 
 You treat me with much shame, sefior; but, for your 
 daughter s sake, I forgive you. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 So would I that your father did you for my daughter s 
 sake ; for then might I think of you for a son. But 
 now, you must pardon me Think no more of 
 that. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Senor Mendoza, I have your promise to wed Juana. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 I made that promise when you were your father s heir ; 
 and I break it, now that you are your father s 
 outcast. I will have no discarded son for my 
 child s husband, believe that. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 My father will restore me to his favor. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 When he does that, I will perhaps take thee to mine, 
 not before. < Fare thee well, senor. > 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Senor Mendoza, it is said you will marry Juana <to 
 another ? 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 583 
 
 MEN. 
 
 And if I do, sefior, who is to gainsay me ? > 
 
 RAM. 
 
 To Marco, the young merchant of Quito? 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Content thee, sefior Ramon, Marco is neither discarded 
 nor poor, nor ill spoken of; and will be a good 
 husband for a good man s daughter. < Farewell 
 Come to me no more. > 
 
 RAM. 
 By heaven, it shall not be! 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Oho! it shall not be! You are the King of Castile, 
 sefior < Ramon ! > You will have fathers marry 
 their children to men of your choosing ! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Senor, you will break my heart. It is enough to lose 
 my father, my family all yet you will rob me of 
 my betrothed wife. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Betrothed to Baptista Febro s heir, not to Ramon the 
 penniless and houseless. < You are scurrilous. > 
 I will talk with you no more. Farewell and 
 come no more near me: my daughter is not for 
 you. (Exit.) 
 
584 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Misery follow thee, thou false old churl, 
 And age s torments ! till they rack as sore 
 As the fresh pangs and agonies of youth. 
 Perhaps his daughter is not much averse; 
 Yet many an oath, with many a sigh, of old, 
 Breathed she for truth and loving constancy. 
 
 (Enter CABARERO.) 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Hola, Ramon! brother Sorrowful! Sefior Will-o -the- 
 wisp ! are you there ? I have been seeking < for > 
 you. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 I should think then thou hadst some execution upon 
 me ; for who else now seek me but my creditors ? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Why, thy true friends, thy true friends (for am not I a 
 host?), thy true friends, Cabarero. Come now, 
 hast thou been petitioning thy father? 
 
 RAM. 
 
 I tell thee, I had better ask an alms of the cutthroat 
 on the highway, than of my father. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 < An alms! > Oh, thou art the smallest-souled pretty 
 fellow in all Granada here. Why dost thou talk 
 of an alms ? Art thou not thy father s eldest son ? 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 585 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Had I been the youngest, I should have been the 
 happier. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Yea, thou shouldst have been a counter of beads, a 
 beggar of blessings, a winner of the elder brother s 
 portion. Pish! thy brother Francisco is a rogue; 
 he has ousted thee from thine inheritance. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 If any one have done that, thou art the man. I am 
 ruined, Cabarero, and thou art my destroyer. 
 
 <CAB. 
 
 Now, I think thou art repenting of thy sins; but thou 
 goest about it the wrong way. > 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Look, Cabarero, there is my father s roof. There is no 
 swallow twittering under its eaves, that has a 
 merrier heart or a gayer song, than were mine 
 once, when I was a boy under it. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Ay, faith, and that wast because thou wert a boy, a 
 silly boy. Now wert thou a man, a discreet and 
 reasonable man, thou wouldst be even as merry as 
 before. <Thou dost not think thou wert born 
 to be always in a grin ? > 
 
586 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 RAM. 
 
 I was the eye of my mother, the heart of <my 
 father > ; my sister loved me; my brother <ay, 
 and my brother > ay, they all loved me; and 
 there was no one that did not smile on me, from 
 the priest at the confessional to the beggar at the 
 door. By St. James, I had many friends then; 
 and I deserved their favor, for I was of good fame 
 and uncorrupted. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 I see thou art a man whose head is likely to be as 
 empty as his pockets. Slife! uncorrupted? 
 <Thy nose uncorrupted !> Bad luck is the lot 
 of the best. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Antonio, I say, thou hast destroyed me. Until I knew 
 thee, I abhorred shame, and <it is true> my 
 hand was as stainless as an infant s. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 It was thy father s scurvy covetousness that put thee 
 on to showing thy spirit. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Thou didst delude me. By the heaven which has 
 deserted me, I did not think this hand could rob! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Pho, thou art mad ! Remember thou art in the street. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 587 
 
 RAM. 
 
 That is the word, Antonio. I robbed him robbed 
 him like a base thief: and then I became the 
 outcast. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 And then thou becam st a fool ! Thou didst but take 
 <what was> a part of thine inheritance. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 <And> yet he forgave me that! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 He did not hang thee, for that would have brought 
 shame on his house. [Forgave thee!] He forced 
 thee to be foolish, and then discarded thee 
 turned thee off like a sick servant abandoned 
 thee. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 <I think he should not have done that. Had he 
 forgiven me that! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Forgive ! Nay, he forgave old Miguel the mule-driver 
 a debt that would have kept thee in bread for a 
 year; and yet it was evident to all that Miguel 
 cheated him. But to forgive his own flesh and 
 blood is another matter. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 He forgave Miguel because he besought his pardon: 
 I have not yet besought him. Dost thou re 
 member the holy history of the prodigal? > Per 
 haps if I humble myself to him, he will forgive me. 
 
588 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CAB. 
 
 If thou art of that mind, thou may st see, o the in 
 stant, how he will spurn thee. Look, he is here, 
 with thy sister, and Pho! thou tremblest! 
 Tis Mendoza, father of thy fair Juana. 
 
 (FEBRO, with LEONOR and MENDOZA, crosses the stage.) 
 
 RAM. 
 
 He has discarded me too, and Juana is given to 
 another. How can I entreat him? See, he will 
 not look upon me ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Father, will you not speak? It is my brother Ramon. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 The carrion vulture with him. Get thee in. 
 I would I had no sons What ? in, I say ! 
 
 (Exit LEONOR into the house.) 
 Senor Mendoza, what you have said is well: 
 I must needs own the contract was too rash. 
 We are both agreed it shall not bind us more. 
 I hear young Marco is a worthy man: 
 Give him your daughter and heaven bless the match. 
 Will you enter, senor? 
 
 MEN. 
 
 I thank your favor, no. 
 
 This thing despatched, I will to other business. 
 Good evening, senor. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 You will be happy, friend 
 Take no wild hothead boy to be your son : 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 589 
 
 Look to his friends : If Marco have but one 
 Loves mirth more than integrity, discard him. 
 These gadflies are our curses Fare you well. 
 (Exeunt MENDOZA and FEBRO , the latter into the house.) 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Oh! o my conscience, a loving father! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 He gave me no encouragement to speak to him. Had 
 he but looked upon me kindly, that look would 
 have cast me at his feet. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 What, at his feet? Not if he were twenty times your 
 father. < Slid, at his feet! Why> he would 
 have spurned thee. Didst thou hear? He has 
 absolved Mendoza from the match, robbed thee 
 of Juana, nay, and absolutely counselled the 
 merchant to marry her to your rival. A loving 
 and merciful father! He ruins thee every way. 
 Were he mine own father, I would 
 
 RAM. 
 
 What wouldst thou do? Thou wouldst not kill him? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 By mine honor, no. I hold any bodily harm done to 
 one s parent altogether inexpiable. But I would 
 not forgive him. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 I will not ! 
 
590 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Why, that was said like a man. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 He forgives not me, he pardons not a folly, and how 
 shall I forgive a cruelty? For a single weakness, 
 he punishes me with all degradation and misery; 
 expels me from his house; looks not on me in the 
 street; leagues with those who wrong me; leaves 
 me penniless and perishing; and even persuades 
 another to break faith with me, and give my be 
 trothed to a stranger: And how shall I forgive 
 him? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Why, thou shalt not. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 I will not. I am even a desperate man; and so I will 
 yield me up to the wrath of desperation. Art 
 thou my true friend? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Else may I have no better hope than purgatory. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 We will kill the merchant of Quito. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 No, the saints forbid ! no murder. He hath not money 
 enough with him. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Why, thou dost not think I will slay him for money? 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 591 
 
 CAB. 
 
 And for what else should you be so bloody-minded? 
 Thou art not mad enough to cut his throat be 
 cause he loves thy mistress? 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Thou knowest, if he live, he will marry her. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Oh! she detests him, and loves you. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Yet will she wed none her father mislikes; and her 
 father likes not me. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Wherefore? Because you have lost your father s 
 favor? No, because you are called a wild fellow, 
 and hate chapels? No. Because you are no 
 longer the hopeful heir to Baptista Febro, the 
 rich broker? Ay: there lies his disgust, thence 
 comes his indignation. Now were you the veriest 
 rogue in Bogota, he would love you well, so you 
 had but money. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Why do you tell me that? I know he is mercenary; 
 nothing will win his heart but money, a curse on 
 it! I would I were rich for Juana s sake; but for 
 myself, I care not for gold It has been the ruin 
 of me. 
 
592 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Thou speakest like an innocent goose. Money, 
 < sirrah !> tis the essence of all comfort and 
 virtue. Thou carest not for gold ! Give me gold, 
 and I will show thee the picture of philosophy, the 
 credential of excellence, the cornerstone of great 
 ness. It is wisdom and reputation the world s 
 religion, mankind s conscience; and what is man 
 without it? Pah! Tis as impossible honesty 
 should dwell easily in an empty pocket, as good 
 humor in a hollow stomach, or wit in a full one. 
 Didst thou ever see integrity revered in an old 
 coat, or unworthiness scorned in a new? <Thou 
 carest not for gold!> Slife, it made my blood 
 boil to hear you say so. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Well, after all, as money or murder must rid me of my 
 rival, tell me how one can be more easily come at 
 than the other. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Why, you rogue, there is our silver mine! We have 
 been hunting it long; we must needs be near the 
 vein. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 That stratagem is growing stale. I sware but this 
 morning to an old friend, of whom I desired to 
 borrow money that we had discovered the tomb 
 of Bochica the Indian emperor, which was doubt 
 less as full of gold as the Inca s grave in Peru; 
 but the knave laughed at me, <and said if I 
 found no gold in it, I should have plenty brass. > 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 593 
 
 CAB. 
 
 The rascal ! and he lent thee no money ? 
 
 RAM. 
 Not a real. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 There is no gratitude among friends. < Do thy good 
 offices to strangers ; and courtesy will teach them 
 the grace of thankfulness. Canst thou cheat 
 nobody ? 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Cheat, Antonio? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Pho! be not in a passion. All s honest that fetches 
 money. > We must have gold, or Juana is lost. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Ay Set me to what roguery you will, so it may 
 regain her. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 The tomb of Bochica, the Indian emperor! I know 
 not by what hallucination it happens, but I never 
 hear thee mention that, without thinking of the 
 vaults of thy father. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Hah! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Now, were he not thy father, couldst thou not have 
 the heart to rob him ? 
 38 
 
594 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Rob him ! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 That is, as long as he oppresses thee so tyrannically. 
 Faith, I would even steal mine own share. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Thou dost not seriously advise me to be such a villain ? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 No, good faith I ? I was jesting. But I will tell thee 
 what thou shalt do. Thou shalt ask him for 
 money. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 And have him spurn me again? 
 
 CAB. 
 Tell him thou art in danger of a prison. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 I will go near him no more. No more begging! The 
 prison first. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 < Why, we must have money. I am sorry to tell thee, 
 some evil rogues have disparaged us among the 
 free gamesters, and they will be free with us no 
 more. > Pablo the innkeeper is wrathful with 
 thee, and says he must have money for thy food 
 and lodging. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 595 
 
 RAM. 
 
 The villain ! He has had my last dollar. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 He is not so merciful as thy father; but he has har 
 boured thee long. Hearken I will go to thy 
 father. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Thou! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 And entreat him for thee very piteously. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 < He will fill thy pockets with curses. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Why, then I will cheat him. 
 
 RAM. 
 Cheat him? 
 
 CAB. 
 Oh, thou dost not care?> 
 
 RAM. 
 
 You may rob him, if you will: I care not. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 I will cheat him with good security, and will fetch thee 
 the money. < But I must not give thee too much 
 hope: he will think I borrow it for thee, and will 
 
596 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 refuse me. But > do thou in the meanwhile en 
 deavor to speak with Juana. Marco must not 
 have her. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Not if any new dye upon my soul can preserve her. 
 <Do what you will, or can; and if you fail, we 
 will consider another way to amend our for 
 tunes. > 
 
 CAB. 
 
 All the men of Bogota are our enemies How many of 
 them have money in thy father s hands? 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Why more than I can tell thee. But what has that to 
 do with their enmity ? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 So much that if one were to break Baptista s vaults, 
 we should have much feeding of grudges. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Say no more of this. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Look, here comes thy friend Mendoza again! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Where? Nay, thou art mistaken: tis another, and a 
 greater than Mendoza, and one not more our 
 friend. Seest thou nothing beyond that muffled 
 cloak? It is the Viceroy. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 597 
 
 CAB. 
 
 The Viceroy! I warrant me, he is spying over us. 
 What does he in disguise? and near thy father s 
 house ? 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Perhaps I could tell thee. But let us be gone. He 
 hardens my father against me. Let him not see 
 us. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE II. A room in FEBRO S house. (Enter 
 FEBRO and LEONOR.) 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Come hither, Leonora. What, my girl, 
 That stranger youth I bade thee see no more, 
 Dost thou still speak with him ? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Alack, dear father, 
 I hope you are not angry. 
 
 <FEB. 
 
 Is it so? 
 Comes he still near thee? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Oh, I am sure indeed, 
 I never gave him countenance. > 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I charged thee 
 
 Give him such scorn, if still he followed thee, 
 As should have driven him from thee: for, indeed, 
 
598 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 These trashbrained idlers, that do follow thee, 
 Sighing in chapel, staring in the street, 
 And strumming silly lovesongs at thy window, 
 They are but things of naught, base, lazy rogues, 
 That hunt for rich men s daughters for their prey, 
 And now they haunt thy steps the more, because 
 The broker, weak old Febro, that must die, 
 In natural course of age, ere many years, 
 Hath but two heirs to share his hoards. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Dear father, 
 
 Will you not then forgive my brother Ramon? 
 I know he is very sorry he e er grieved you; 
 And on his heart your wrath must needs be heavy. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 If thou believ st so, then, in time, beware 
 
 It fall not upon thine. <In sooth, I think, 
 
 Thou art leagued with him to vex me. > O ye saints ! 
 
 Punish these villains that seduce men s sons, 
 
 Making them villains; and with vengeance follow 
 
 The knaves that teach our daughters disobedience. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Dear father, none shall teach me that. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 They shall not, 
 When thou seest no more rogue Rolandos. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Father, 
 Indeed, I think, he is honest. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 599 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Nay, a knave ! 
 
 He doth not come to me, but ever shuns me. 
 He hath no friends; no man in Bogota 
 Hath made acquaintance with him : he flies all 
 Like a scared thief, save only thee alone, 
 < And comes to thee like one, cloaked, almost masked, 
 As when he followed thee from the carnival. 
 Now were my Ramon what in youth he was, 
 He should be thy protector, and soon drive me 
 This wasp away. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 If he return again, > 
 
 I ll bid him come no more; I will indeed, 
 Till he has talked with you, and satisfied you. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Why there s my girl ! Let him but come to me ; 
 I ll tell him that I mean thee for another. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Another, father! I do not wish to marry. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Thus silly maids will talk ! Why, thou poor finch, 
 A gentleman hath asked thee for his wife, 
 Rich, I assure thee, virtuous, honorable, 
 And a hidalgo. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 And so is Roland, too. 
 
6oo DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Speak st thou of Roland? Thou wilt anger me. 
 
 He a hidalgo! By my faith, I think, 
 
 Some heathenish villain, that with magic arts 
 
 Hath wound about thy spirits. He I meant, 
 
 Is Baltasar, son of Don Lucas Moron. 
 
 Dost thou name him and Roland in a breath ? 
 
 I faith, thou stirr st me, 
 
 (Enter SILVANO.) 
 
 What would st tnou, Silvano? 
 
 SILV. 
 A customer to your worship. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 It is a holiday. 
 I will no business do today. 
 
 SILV. 
 
 Your favour 
 Must pardon me. It is his Excellency. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 His Excellency! oh thou foolish knave. 
 To leave him waiting ! 
 
 (Enter PALME RA.) 
 
 Please, your noble highness, 
 Pardon my silly fellow. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Good Baptista, 
 Forget my state, it is too cumbersome. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 601 
 
 I am even your humble suitor and poor friend. 
 
 My pretty Leonor! Now, by my life, 
 
 Which like a desert river, flows away, 
 
 I would some green and flourishing plant like thee 
 
 Had rooted by my current : then indeed 
 
 I should have seen the surges of my age 
 
 Dash with a sweet contented music on, 
 
 Nor thought their course was sterile. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 A silly maid. 
 Your highness is too good. Go, Leonora. 
 
 (Exeunt LEONORA <and SILVANO. >) 
 <A silly maid! and yet, or I do dream, 
 Loving and true. And yet But that s no matter. 
 I am at your highness bidding. > 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Sit down, Baptista. 
 
 Oh, then, I must be viceroy and command you. 
 I have much to say to thee. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I am sorry your grace 
 
 Did not command me to the palace. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 No. 
 
 Perhaps I have a reason I could tell you. 
 Febro, you have my confidence, and know, 
 What were a wonder unto other men, 
 How one can sit upon a viceroy s chair, 
 Yet heap no wealth about him. 
 
602 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Please your highness, 
 Your predecessors on Granada s throne, 
 Ne er found a lack of gain; and, sooth to say, 
 I do remember when no mine could yield, 
 Though by a thousand Indians daily wrought, 
 So rich a revenue as the rod of state 
 In one man s hands, were but that man the viceroy. , 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Such was its wealth, and such may be again, 
 
 To him with heart to use it. But for myself, 
 
 I cannot stoop to use those under means, 
 
 That fill the purse of office; and I would gnaw 
 
 Sooner my food from off my barren trappings, 
 
 Than gild them vilely with the fruits of fraud, 
 
 Sales, bribes, exactions, and monopolies, 
 
 The rich dishonour of prerogative. 
 
 < I will this kingdom leave with no man s curse, 
 
 And no man s scorn; and to mine own land bear 
 
 Even the poor burden that I brought with me, 
 
 An honest pride and pure integrity. 
 
 Tis from this thought that I make use of thee, 
 
 Out of that lean estate I have, to win 
 
 Such gain as my necessities require, 
 
 And such as though my state must keep it secret, 
 
 I have no shame to grasp at. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Would indeed 
 This principle should come with your successor. > 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 603 
 
 PALM. 
 
 I have some gold, which I would have you place 
 
 Even at what profitable trade you can, 
 
 But not in peril ; for indeed it is 
 
 After some worthless antique lands in Spain, 
 
 The only portion I can give my son, 
 
 But now arrived in Bogota. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Your highness 
 Shall faithfully be served. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 I doubt not that. 
 
 Soon as you will, some trusty messenger 
 Send to the court, and he shall bear the gold. 
 
 FEB. 
 My son shall be despatched. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Your son, Baptista! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 My son Francisco, I dare assure your highness, 
 A trusty youth, and most unequalled son. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 In sooth, I thought you meant his elder brother. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Francisco, please your grace, an excellent boy, 
 < Mine only hope and comfort, a dutiful son. > 
 
604 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 It is a holiday, and the youths have left 
 Their prisoned warehouses, and look for mirth 
 In the gay squares and streets, all but Francisco. 
 He nooks him at his desk, and still pores o er 
 The weary mysteries of accounts, as though 
 Wisdom, as well as wealth, were writ among them. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 A commendable zeal. But tell me, Febro, 
 This should have been the elder brother s office. 
 Pardon me, Febro; but beshrew my heart, 
 I speak to thee in friendship, when I meddle 
 In family affairs. You are too harsh : 
 Indeed it is the towntalk, your severity 
 To your discarded son. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 It is the towntalk! 
 
 The town will disobedience teach to children, 
 Then censure fathers, who do punish them. 
 This is the course, and justice of the town ! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 But still, men say, the penance you inflict 
 Is all too heavy for his boyish follies. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Follies! No doubt, they told your excellency 
 He idled at his task, sometimes made blunders, 
 Played truant oft, and sometimes laughed at chapel- 
 Such follies! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 No, I must needs own, for truth, 
 They were of darker color, running forth 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 605 
 
 With youths disorderly and riotous, 
 Unto the tavern and the gaming-house. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Riotous friends! 
 
 Drinking and gambling! Sir, these are such follies 
 
 In youth, as fraud and robbery in men; 
 
 And he who clouds his dawn of life with such 
 
 Shall have a fouller tempest for its close. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 And yet these are such ills as gentleness 
 Might best reprove; and, for those after crimes, 
 Surely your son has not plunged into them ? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I do not say it ! There is no man dare say it. 
 I say, my Ramon is a foolish boy. 
 Your highness cannot say I e er accused him 
 Of aught but folly. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 The more unwise your anger, 
 Which may compel him into crime. Baptista, 
 He is the only one of your three children 
 Whose weakness vexes you. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I ll not say that. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 What, Febro? And the paragon, Francisco? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 He never gave me pain. 
 
606 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 My pretty Leonor? 
 
 PALM. 
 
 And Leonor? 
 
 FEB. 
 The world s best daughter! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 foolish man, that art not yet content, 
 
 When heaven that crowns thee with two perfect joys, 
 
 Dashes a little gall upon the third ! 
 
 < Wilt thou be harsher than all other sires, 
 
 Because thou art happier? Oh, believe me Febro, 
 
 There is no father but must much forgive; 
 
 There is no father but must much lament ; > 
 
 And I, that have but one child to mine age, 
 
 And him would have an angel in my love, 
 
 Even see him tainted with the spots of youth, 
 
 And envy thee that hast such bliss with thine. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Sir, I have heard the young Fernando bore him 
 Like a most just and virtuous gentleman. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 And yet, though but few days in Bogota, 
 
 His heart is tangled in a low intrigue, 
 
 A base amour. But shall I drive him from me? 
 
 1 will not ape thy cruelty, but bid thee 
 
 Follow mine own mild counsels, which will give thee 
 Thy son again, a loving penitent. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 607 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Sir, I would have him feel in sharp extreme 
 The bitter issues of his degradation. 
 Tis need he feel them. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 They oppress him now : 
 I saw him sad and moody near thy house, 
 Humbled to earth. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Ay ! but with Cabarero ! 
 The villain that seduced him into folly, 
 And still cajoles him on. He has his choice, 
 That caitiff, or his father He has his choice! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Well, well, think better of him. He loves the man, 
 Who seems to be his fast unflinching friend. 
 Think of my counsel. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 At your highness feet ! 
 Francisco shall attend you to the palace, 
 What, boy! Francisco! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 I prythee, keep thy house. 
 I will not have thee follow to the doors. 
 
 FEB. 
 Your excellency s slave. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
608 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 SCENE III. The street at FEBRO S door. (Enter 
 SILVANO and FERNANDO.) 
 
 SILV. 
 I do wonder at your presumption, sefior Rolando. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 And I do wonder at thine honesty. If thou wilt not 
 for money, oh then for love bear my message to 
 the fair Leonor. 
 
 SILV. 
 
 To peep from the window, and see how prettily thou 
 wilt kiss thy hand to her! Art thou really a 
 hidalgo ? 
 
 FERN. 
 
 I am really a hidalgo, a Spanish hidalgo. 
 
 SILV. 
 And your worship does really love my mistress ? 
 
 FERN. 
 
 My worship does most devoutly adore your divine 
 mistress. 
 
 SILV. 
 
 And if you gain her good will, you will make her your 
 worship s wife? 
 
 FERN. 
 
 If I gain her good will, I will fly straightway to the 
 altar; <If not, I will e en betake me to the 
 halter. > 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 609 
 
 SILV. 
 
 Why, if thou wert an honest gentleman, thou would st 
 demand her of her father. He would be glad to 
 have a hidalgo for a son. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Oh, thou art a silly fellow. I am a poor hidalgo, which 
 is naught to a rich commoner. 
 
 SILV. 
 
 Senor Rolando, I like thy face indifferent well; but I 
 think thou art some rogue, and no noble. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 If thou wilt be as loving as I am noble, hear my peti 
 tion, and beseech my young divinity to look from 
 the window. 
 
 SILV. 
 Who knows? Why, senor Febro is within. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 How shall he hear the silver voice of his daughter, 
 when his ears are filled with the golden jingle of has 
 coffers? 
 
 SILV. 
 
 Well, stay a moment till his excellency goes. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 His excellency! What excellency? 
 
 SILV. 
 
 Why, his excellency the Viceroy. <He is a great 
 friend of my master. > 
 
 39 
 
6io DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Oh! fire and furies! the Viceroy! Now, I remember 
 me, I have to meet a friend in the great square. 
 
 SILV. 
 
 Stay, senor Hidalgo, here comes his excellency. Senor, 
 you are a rogue! God be with you! (Exit 
 FERNANDO.) Well, thou art a mysterious, good- 
 for-nothing, agreeable rascal, I warrant me; and 
 somehow, I begin to love thee. But thou hast a 
 wholesome dread of great men. 
 
 (Enter, from house, PALMERA, FEBRO, and FRANCISCO. 
 LEONOR appears at the door.) 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Heaven keep your excellence a thousand years! 
 Thou hast thy charge, Francisco. Heaven save your 
 highness ! 
 
 (Exeunt PALMERA and FRANCISCO.) 
 Silvano, hast thou heard more things of Ramon ? 
 
 SILV. 
 
 Please your worship, I heard he was last night at 
 Mateo s gambling house. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 The wretched boy ! 
 
 SILV. 
 
 And, please your worship, he hurt one with his dagger 
 for calling him a cheat. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 A cheat ! Would he had never been born ! 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 611 
 
 SILV. 
 
 But then, it was a slander; or how should he have 
 stabbed a man for telling the truth ? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Ay, slander, Silvano! He could not cheat. 
 
 SILV. 
 
 <And the gambler s boy that told me, he is a most 
 notorious liar. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I cannot but believe it was a lie. > 
 
 SILV. 
 
 And then, if he had cheated, he should have had 
 money; whereas, they say, he is in great poverty; 
 and Pablo the innkeeper threatens to put him in 
 prison. 
 
 FEB. 
 In prison! I have been too harsh. 
 
 SILV. 
 
 <But that, I think, is only to make your worship pay 
 his debts; for Pablo is reckoned to be a rascal. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Will Ramon agree to this roguery ? 
 I will not pay a real. > 
 
 SILV. 
 
 Please your worship, I have heard no more of his 
 doings. 
 
6i2 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Well, I did love him well, but that s no matter. 
 My Rachel loved him too, as her first born; 
 And, for a boy, he was the lovingest one 
 Mine eyes ere looked upon. <Get in, Leonora. 
 Why wilt thou stand at doors, to be gazed on 
 By these young bawbling wantons of the town ? 
 They ll smirk at thee, and wink, and kiss their 
 
 hands: 
 
 I know them very well, such gewgaw brains, 
 And hearts of rotton stone, and trash and lies 
 Wilt thou not hear me? What? (Exit LEONORA.) 
 
 By all the saints, 
 She is the very apple of mine eye. 
 She does not love this fellow : the whim of girls, 
 To have well-favored youths a-wooing them. > 
 I know that rogue is it not Cabarero? 
 Oh, the base villain ! had he been but hanged 
 Six years agone, or ere he looked upon 
 My foolish boy! Well, will he speak with me? 
 
 (Enter CABARERO.) 
 Come, let us in. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Hola, you money-vender! 
 You reverend old blood-grater of the poor! 
 Tarry, I ll speak with you. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Now all the saints 
 Give me a little patience. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 613 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Come, how stand 
 
 Your vaults and money bags? Still filling, filling, 
 Like the horseleech s paunch, and crying "More!"? 
 I ll be thy customer. What rate today ? 
 Not cent per cent, with tenth of gross for premium ? 
 Be reasonable, and I ll deal with thee. 
 These are hard times, faith. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I will not be angry, 
 
 Why should I with a rascal ? Senor, base fellow, 
 You may go hang or drown I ll give you naught. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 No, by mine honor, no, you will not give me, 
 
 Else should the devil grow weary of the earth. 
 
 And leave t to angels. Give me indeed! When pesos 
 
 Change to perditions, ducats to damnation, 
 
 Then will I look for gifts. But how now, senor? 
 
 Slid, I believe you are angry! What s the news? 
 
 How fares my little soul, fair Leonor? 
 
 Upon my faith, she s an exceeding girl : 
 
 What portion will you give her? Sometimes I 
 
 Do think of marriage ; and hidalgo blood 
 
 Has often stooped to gutters. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Which is to say, 
 Your honor might be bribed to marry her? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Noble s a noble dower; and so I say, 
 Verily so, if well thou portion st her. 
 
6i4 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Then shalt thou hear it When she weds a man 
 Like thee, her portion shall be cords and ratsbane, 
 Curses and misery ! Oh, thou bold bad man, 
 How canst thou look me in the face, nor think 
 Of ruin d Ramon? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 I do think of him, 
 And wonder at the rage that ruins him. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Sirrah! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Why, how you fume? I come to you 
 To borrow money good faith, a thousand ducats 
 At highest rates of interest, with surety 
 Of good sufficient names, to be repaid 
 Out of my new discovered silver mine. 
 I say, good names. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Were they angelical, 
 Thou shouldst not have a doit to hang thyself. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Harkee, old sir I meant a part thereof 
 To feed thy starving Ramon. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Knave, thou liest! 
 
 It is to tempt him on to further shame. 
 To deeper ruin! 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 615 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Thou art angry, I forgive thee. 
 But know, unless thou send st him money straight, 
 He will be lodged in prison. Ope thy heart; 
 Send him some gold. 
 
 FEB. 
 Art thou his friend ? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 His best. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 <Thou lovest my Ramon ay, and thou lovest 
 
 gold:> 
 
 I ll teach thee how to serve him as a friend, 
 And how to win thee money. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Speak that how. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Leave Bogota forever; swear me that: 
 
 Get thee from hence to Spain; and I will give thee 
 
 A thousand ducats. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Faith, now you speak in jest! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I say, I ll give them to thee, nay, and more, 
 Swear me but that, and keep thine oath. 
 
616 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CAB. 
 
 A thousand? 
 
 A thousand ducats to leave Bogota? 
 No, not for five! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Wilt thou not go for five ? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Art thou in earnest? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 So may the saints befriend me; 
 Get thee to Spain; leave Ramon unto me, 
 And thou shalt have five thousand ducats. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Slid! 
 I take thy offer. Give me the gold. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Soft, soft: 
 
 I ll have thine oath before a notary; 
 Find thee conveyance unto Carthagena ; 
 Pay thee a portion when thou art embarked, 
 And count the rest, in yearly sums, to thee, 
 Only in Spain. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Five thousand on the nail, 
 Paid here in Bogota; to which e en add 
 A thousand yearly to be paid in Spain, 
 During my term of life. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 617 
 
 FEB. 
 
 O grasping villain ! 
 
 Thou wouldst have all, and yet wilt go with none. 
 If thou wilt more, there s money in my vaults; 
 Break them, and rob me! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Oh! dost thou invite me? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Rob me, thou knave, that I may have thy life! 
 Do me that crime, and hang! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Most antique churl, 
 Thou shalt be sorry for this fantasy. 
 Thou hast no gold for Ramon ? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Hence, begone! 
 
 And a deep curse go with thee, a father s curse ! 
 Get thee to fraud and crime, to theft and murder. 
 Become notorious to thyself, and sleep, 
 Dreaming of gibbets, to wake up to racks ; 
 Rob other sires of other sons; bring wo 
 On other houses ; till the general curse 
 Heaped like a mountain o er thy head, reach heaven, 
 And wall thee in its fiery hell forever ! 
 Hence, monster, hence! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 END OF ACT I. 
 
ACT II 
 
 SCENE I. A street near MENDOZA S house. 
 (Enter RAMON and PABLO.) 
 
 PAB. 
 I am a poor man, sefior Ramon: I must have money. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Wert thou as penniless as a beggar, still couldst thou 
 have nothing of me ; for I am poorer. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Thy father is the richest man in Bogota. He should 
 pay for thy food. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Get thee to him, and tell him so. Look, thou insatiate 
 rogue, I have signed and countersigned all thy 
 villainous obligations ; I have owned me here thy 
 debtor, and confessed thou canst justly hale me 
 to prison. < What more can I do? If thou canst 
 use these to any honest purposes, or dishonest 
 either, I care not. Get thee to my father. If he 
 will give thee money, I am content; if not, tis 
 but a word to the alguazil, and thou shalt have so 
 much satisfaction as my incarcerated misery can 
 give thee. > 
 
 618 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 619 
 
 PAD. 
 
 Thou knowest I should be loathe to be so unfriendly. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 I know, thou art as much a cormorant as the rest 
 < and as rapacious for my lean and impoverished 
 body as ever thou wert in my days of fatness. > 
 Get thee away: I have one honest friend left, 
 whom I would not willingly have to see me in thy 
 company. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Why, I hope thou art not ashamed of me? 
 
 RAM. 
 
 No, I am now ashamed of nothing. The grace in me 
 that would have once blushed at unworthiness, 
 is gone ; and I have nothing left for contempt but 
 myself myself. Go, get money, if thou canst; 
 it is thy only hope; thy stay will only rob me of 
 my last. Go, I pry thee. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Well, God be with you. If I can cheat your father, 
 you shall have some of the gain. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Thus doth severity still goad me on 
 Into a hateful villainy ; and chains me 
 <Whate er my sighs for better liberty > 
 To fellowship with rogues more vile than I. 
 Thou drivest me, father, to this noose of shame; 
 And wilt not bate thy wrath, till I am dead. 
 
620 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 (Enter JUANA.) 
 
 I looked for thee, Juana ! for I knew 
 
 Though all else had deserted me, thou couldst not. 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Ramon, I have few words to speak to thee : 
 And even with these, I lay upon my soul 
 The sin of disobedience. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Ay, indeed! 
 You will obey your sire ! 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 What else should I? 
 I am his only child ; in whom, in sooth, 
 Heaven would not pardon an unfilial act. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Speak boldly; leave me, like the rest, and fear not; 
 Say, Marco is a rich and honored man, 
 And Ramon lost to wealth and reputation : 
 There s none but will commend thee. 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Say not that 
 
 Thou know st, I never loved thee for thy wealth; 
 For, sooth, I liked thee best when that was gone; 
 With thy hard father s heart : and, for thy name, 
 These evil tales destruction speaks of thee, 
 But spur me on to be thy advocate. 
 I never gave them faith. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 621 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Lies ! that are ever 
 
 Writ, by contempt, upon the poor man s brow, 
 But puffed, by flattery, from all jewelled fronts. 
 But yesterday men found the rich man s son 
 Worthy and honorable, without stain; 
 Today they find the fallen outcast s face 
 Charged with the sinful leprosy of years 
 An hour for transformation! 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 They will find thee 
 
 Stainless again, when thou art fortunate. 
 Hark to me, Ramon: there are not many days, 
 Ere I am lost to thee. Unless thou find 
 Before they pass, some happy road to wealth, 
 Fortune will come too late to purchase me. 
 Get gold, and win my father s heart again 
 Ere he do marry me to Marco. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Heaven 
 Smite his false, churlish heart! 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Curse not my father : 
 Do that which shall appease him. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Marry thee? 
 He had not thought it without thine own consent! 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 How thou dost wound me, Ramon! O bright saints, 
 It was but now, as, at my lattice sitting, 
 
622 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 I looked down on the gardens of our sires, 
 
 Which, in their days of friendship, our blest childhood, 
 
 Did make one common paradise. I thought 
 
 Even of the thousand hours there, hand in hand, 
 
 We had roamed among the blossoms. All this time 
 
 My father was beseeching me for Marco. 
 
 I saw no Marco, at the lemon-tree; 
 
 It was not Marco, from the chirimoya, 
 
 Had stolen the fragrant buds to crown me with ; 
 
 It was not he had caught the humming bird, 
 
 To keep him radiant in my memory ; 
 
 I saw naught there but Ramon, and my heart 
 
 Even while I wept, was hardened to my father; 
 
 And with that sin, and with those tears, I won 
 
 A last grace for thee still a week of trial ; 
 
 A week wherein if fortune ismile upon thee 
 
 The rites with Marco shall not be enforced. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 And how shall fortune smile again? 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 <ril teach thee: 
 
 Give o er all thought of mines; they will delude thee 
 On to a golden madness, but no wealth. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 What else remains ?> 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Thy father, 
 < Ramon, thy father. > 
 
 RAM. 
 
 My tyrant ! my destroyer ! 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 623 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Speak not thus, 
 Though harsh and most unjust, thy father, Ramon ! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Wed Marco ! Now by heaven, not even for thee 
 Will I be spurned again. 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Ramon, not spurned. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Thou dost not know what wrong my sire has done me, 
 
 This wreck thou seest of what I was, this shred 
 
 Of my rent happiness, this squalid relic 
 
 Of a once fair and ample reputation, 
 
 This misery of heart and character 
 
 Tis what my father makes me ! No, thou know st not 
 
 The depth of wrong he has done me. 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Still remember 
 
 What e er thy suffering, that his wrath, first springing 
 From the base slanders of thine enemies, 
 Thine own rough pride still kindles. 
 Nay, my Ramon 
 
 I know his nature; and, though much incensed, 
 His heart is yearning to forgive thee. 
 
 I have found it so ! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Ay! 
 
624 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Thou didst not personally 
 Sue to him. Go thyself, go send no more 
 Thy friend to him. I like not Cabarero; 
 I fear he is not the true friend you believe him. 
 Go to him, Ramon, and beseech his pardon. 
 Think, if thou gain st him, thou gain st me. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Well, well- 
 
 This day already did I go before him. 
 He frowned and passed me by; and, as to mad me 
 With the extreme of most vindictive wrath, 
 Did while I stood hard by, advise thy father 
 To marry thee to Marco. 
 
 There is no hope ! 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 <Then heaven help m( 
 
 RAM. 
 Perhaps I ll find a mine. > 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Alas, once more, once more beseech him, Ramon. 
 Seek him alone, humble thyself before him. 
 I will beseech him too. It cannot be, 
 He has learned to hate thee. I will aid thy suit. 
 Once more, once more, or I am lost forever. 
 
 RAM. 
 Well, well, I ll think of it. But wed not Marco. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 625 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Not till the week be o er; but after that 
 I have sworn to do my father s bidding. 
 Twas by that oath, I gained this week for thee. 
 
 (Enter MENDOZA.) 
 Alack, I am torn from thee ! 
 
 MEN. 
 
 What, silly girl! 
 
 Get thee to house. Thou wilt not win this puppet 
 By wooing her i the street. One last word, senor, 
 A week hence is my daughter s wedding day. 
 
 (Exit MENDOZA, with JUANA.) 
 
 RAM. 
 
 If I do go to him, he will not hear me 
 
 A week? Nay, though with tears I should conjure 
 
 him 
 
 Ere he have brought a smile upon his face, 
 New words of new misdeeds will turn its light 
 Into a fiercer flame : he must needs find 
 Fresh stains of degradation I will not go. 
 If he have thought to pardon me at all, 
 I ll know t by Cabarero. 
 
 (Enter CABARERO.) 
 
 What said my father? 
 
 RAM. 
 
 What, Antonio? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Your father? Humph! Is Febro your father? I 
 think we have all along made a mistake. What 
 
 4 o 
 
626 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 said he? I am afraid it will not comfort thee to 
 hear. We will not talk it in the street ; thou wilt 
 relish it better over a cup of wine. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 He has rejected my suit? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Wilt thou hear how? Let us begone to Pablo s; for, 
 I swear to thee, rage and despair are making me 
 very thirsty. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 He will give me no relief? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Wilt thou search my pockets? I offered him good 
 security. It is true, the names were not so 
 honestly written; but he asked not to see them. 
 Not a penny, not a penny; not even to save thee 
 from perdition. Pho, how thou sighest! Come, 
 shall we go to drink? Humph ! if thou knewest 
 how foolish tis to be melancholy. Now have I 
 been thinking, a quarter of a minute, how much 
 thy silly face looks like an epitaph a morsel of 
 silent lamentation over thy dead and buried 
 hopes. Well, thou art content to give up Juana? 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Because Febro, the broker, loves me not ! I will call 
 him father no more. He would neither lend to 
 you, who could give him the securities of law; nor 
 to me, who have some of the claims of nature? 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 627 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Not a penny. Sfuries, had you but seen how he re 
 viled me like a dog ! And the more I begged him 
 in thy name, the more wrathfully did he abuse me. 
 Lend thee money? said he; I will lend thee the pangs 
 of purgatory: Lend thee money ! I will lend thee the 
 whipping post. Thou know st he was thy father, 
 otherwise I had pulled him by the beard. Send 
 me then comfort to thy afflicted and perishing son, 
 quoth I, with a moderate supplicatory air. / will 
 see him jailed, doomed and hanged first, said he. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 He did not say this ? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Oh, not in such brief measures, to be sure: but that 
 was the end of a ten minutes malediction. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 <Why then good luck to him and no more begging. 
 Whose throat shall we cut ? Money must be had. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Thy father has most shamefully treated thee, that s 
 certain. > 
 
 RAM. 
 
 I will forget it when he has driven me to the grave, not 
 sooner. Money must be had and within a week. 
 Men have been guilty of parricide. < Money, 
 money ! Have you no money ? 
 
628 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Here is a handful [of] shabby pistareens, if thou art 
 famishing. Let us go and drink a toast to Marco s 
 fair wife. > 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Shall we hang, drown, rob, or commit murder? I will 
 now do any villainy thou canst recommend me. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Most unnaturally wronged, and unnaturally aban 
 doned. This should excuse any vengeance. Thou 
 must do thyself right. And thy milk-faced 
 brother shall have thine inheritance ! Thou must 
 right thyself 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Before the week end; or I am in prison, and Juana 
 married. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 I could teach thee a way. Come let us begone. 
 Sblood! are there no scavengers? What have we 
 here? By the mass, a key! Now might this 
 belong to a rich man s door, and 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Hah! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Why what is the matter with thee? Is it gold? a 
 basilisk? 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 629 
 
 RAM. 
 
 The lost key of my father s vault ! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Ho, have the saints forgot thee? Why, here is ven 
 geance! wealth! Juana! It is not thy father s 
 key? 
 
 RAM. 
 
 I have handled it a thousand times! Twas lost a 
 month ago. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Ha, ha! thy father bade me rob him! Give me the 
 key. Look thou art poor, miserable; this will 
 make thee happy. Did destiny put it under thy 
 foot for nothing ? Hark ee this is the true mine ! 
 Come, Juana is waiting for thee! A little wine 
 will put thfee out of this stare, and this will help 
 thee to thine inheritance. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 < SCENE II. The street before FEBRO S door. 
 (Enter LEONOR and FERNANDO.) 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Trust me, sweet Leonor, I have good cause 
 To hide me from thy father. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 It is no cause 
 Of a good man, that makes him shun the good. 
 
630 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FERN. 
 
 The best, that have infirmities, are worst 
 Under their proper passions; and the foible, 
 Which, in thy sire, to other men, seems harmless, 
 May make him, in mine eyes, detestable. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 What is t that makes you say so ? If indeed, 
 
 As I will not believe, thou lovest me, 
 
 My sire should seem an angel in thine eyes. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 And so he should, did I not know, in his, 
 My own poor image would be devilish. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Well, I care not. You will be sorry soon, 
 When I am wedded to another. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Wedded! 
 
 You do but tell me this to mock my heart. 
 Then laugh me out of sorrow. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 No indeed: 
 
 Twas but this morning that my father said, 
 I should be married to Don Baltasar. 
 And I do think, because you will not do 
 As love would still have taught you, for my sake, 
 It will be best to marry Baltasar. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 To marry Baltasar! You cannot think 
 To be so false. What, wed? and Baltasar? 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 631 
 
 LEON. 
 
 He asks my father for me. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 So would I; 
 
 But that I know, the answer to my prayer 
 Would be, the curse to look on thee no more. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Not if thou beest an honest gentleman. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Honest I know not, for this love might seem 
 To my stern father, subtle and deceitful ; 
 But so far honest, I would rather give 
 These limbs up, to be torn by wild horses, 
 Than ever do thee wrong. Sweet Leonor, 
 Know, if I seek thy sire, he will demand me 
 My father s name; whereat I needs must speak 
 Such hateful syllables, as will turn his heart 
 As by a fiendish magic, into coals ; 
 And if he do not kill me (as, indeed 
 The sudden pang of rage may urge him to) 
 At least, he ll drive me from thy face forever. 
 I am the son of his worst enemy. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Alas, he has no enemies. I ne er heard him 
 Speak of an enemy. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 The fiercest rage 
 
 Hides, like the wolf, from daylight ; the rough vulture 
 Asleep upon his perch, doth seem as harmless 
 
632 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 As the poor innocent dove that s nested by. 
 And Febro, brooding o er a secret hate, 
 May veil his anger with a face of peace. 
 Why should he speak of enemies to thee ? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Art thou indeed his enemy ? 
 
 FERN. 
 
 No, not I. 
 
 I did forget the rage my father taught me 
 Soon as I looked on thee. Wed Baltasar? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 I will not marry Baltasar. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 But lo, 
 Thy sire will have thee forced. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 What shall I do? 
 
 Some maids would be so silly, they would fly 
 If much persuaded. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 If thou look st upon me 
 
 Howe er my fearful thoughts may start at folly 
 I will persuade thee. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Not unless he force me! 
 He ll ne er forgive me. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 633 
 
 FERN. 
 
 O thou simple sweet, 
 
 If thy sire foam, mine own will anger more. 
 But we ll forget them. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Come to me again, 
 And then perhaps I will And if I do, 
 My father will be so lonely. But then indeed 
 He will forgive my brother : and, with my brother, 
 He will be happy ! yes, indeed, more happy 
 Than with poor me. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Thou dost persuade thyself ; 
 And, in thy arguments, I am resolved. 
 We will fly. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Not till he force me ! 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Shall I wait? 
 
 Till thou art married ? Get thyself prepared : 
 And see thou have not store of bags and boxes, 
 As will o erload a caravan of mules 
 Tonight I ll come for thee. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 No, not so soon. 
 
 Get thee away. There comes my brother Francisco !- 
 But come to me yes, come again, again! 
 
 (Exeunt) > 
 
634 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 < SCENE III. A room in PEDRO S house. (Enter 
 FEBRO and SILVANO, with books.) 
 
 FEB. 
 
 That money lent to Tomas Catalan, 
 Four thousand marks, is it not due today ? 
 I faith, twas yesterday. Where is Francisco? 
 Doth he so slur my books ? Why this way was 
 With Ramon, when he gan to change and fall, 
 Four thousand marks Threatened with prison too ! 
 A good, safe man. His mother ne er dreamed 
 
 this, 
 
 Threatened with prison penniless forsook. 
 Why then perhaps the penance is too sore; 
 His excellency says it is too heavy : 
 He is a good man, and a wise man too. 
 And it may be, if I deny him more, 
 Necessity may force him to such guilt, 
 As will his ancient follies make seem virtues. 
 Poverty has an angel s voice, to plead 
 Excuse of sin. The town doth talk of me, 
 They call me overharsh ; and Cabarero 
 Says, it is I myself that ruin him. 
 He ll lose his bride too. Think st thou not, Silvano, 
 I might to Pablo s go, and no man see me? 
 
 SILV. 
 To Pablo s, sefior? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 No, let him come to me. I will do naught to make men 
 stare at me. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 635 
 
 SILV. 
 
 The saints forbid ! I think he has not his mind. 
 Rob him ! and go to Pablo s ! or have Pablo, 
 That low, base, scurvy rascal, come to him! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Say he be jailed, the lesson then is ended; 
 
 The foul familiar parts from him ; and he 
 
 Repents him in his bonds. But that disgrace 
 
 May break his heart: I have known men die of shame. 
 
 For that, to lofty spirits, is such an air 
 
 As kills the lusty miner in the rift ; 
 
 A breath is fatal. 
 
 SILV. 
 Talk you of killing, master? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 O foolish fellow, why dost thou stare at me ? 
 Methinks Francisco tarries overlong. 
 
 SILV. 
 He comes, sir. 
 
 (Enter FRANCISCO, bearing gold.) 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Get thee hence look to the door. 
 Thy duty. (Exit SILVANO.) 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Father, I have brought the gold ; 
 An excellent sum too. Shall I to the vaults ? 
 
636 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Look, boy, where are thy wits? I find me here 
 Four thousand marks that yesterday were due, 
 And not yet rendered. 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 From Tomas Catalan? 
 Father, I saw him yesterday indeed, 
 And he desired me fetch it home today. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Why that was well. But wherefore spoke you not? 
 Will you do all and with no word from me ? 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Father, I told you, and you did consent. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Did I so, boy ? Ay, now I recollect me, 
 
 This plague o the heart doth dull the wit. Twas well. 
 
 And Joseph Lucas, have you heard of him? 
 
 Is t true his mine is flooded? 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Deluged, father. 
 Utterly lost. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 And he hath nothing left 
 To pay me back that mine (I think I am mad 
 To lend such sum to any mortal man) 
 That mine of pesos I did lend to him ? 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 637 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 No, nothing, father; he is wholly ruined. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I shall be ruined too ! Why twas a fortune 
 For any man, a rich and princely fortune: 
 I slaved out years to win it. I shall be ruined. 
 I may live to see you brought to want. 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 No, father. 
 Lose twice as much, enough remains for us. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 You will have enough with Ramon s portion ! 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Father, 
 
 Forgive my brother, give my portion to him. 
 I will live happy in a monastery, 
 To know he is content and you with him. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Thou art my loving boy! Get thee to Catalan; 
 Bring me that money; and when thou hast marked it, 
 And also that his excellency gave thee, 
 Store me both in the vault. 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Shall I not have 
 
 The masons to wall up the garden door ? 
 The match-key, father, of the outer door, 
 Some rogue may find it. 
 
638 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 It is about the house; 
 I did myself mislay it; and I will find it, 
 Soon as these troubles vex my mind no more. 
 But ne ertheless, we ll wall the door tomorrow. 
 Get thee away ; be swift ; and after that 
 Make haste to mark the coin and store it safely. 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Father? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 What wilt thou? 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Father, when I am come 
 To Catalan s door, I shall be nigh to Pablo s. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Ay! 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 If I might but speak then with my brother 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Get thee to Catalan; speak to none but Catalan; 
 And think of none but Catalan. Or indeed, 
 If thou must think of Ramon, let thy dreams 
 Bring thee instruction, and inform thy heart 
 What is the end of disobedience sorrow, 
 Abasement, shame, neglect, abandonment. 
 Think of thy brother, but be far from him.> 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 639 
 
 SCENE IV. The street before PEDRO S house. 
 (Enter MENDOZA and SILVANO.) 
 
 MEN. 
 It is very strange. 
 
 SILV. 
 
 He grieves, sir, much for his son; and I think that 
 sorrow is e en setting him crazy. 
 
 MEN. 
 He talked with that debauched fellow, Cabarero ? 
 
 SILV. 
 
 Ay, sefior; with the decayed and disreputable hi 
 dalgo, Cabarero about Spain, and Carthagena, 
 and a ship, and five thousand ducats. Senor, 
 would a wise man invite another to rob him ? 
 
 MEN. 
 To rob him ? 
 
 SILV. 
 
 He said, there was money in his vaults. He might 
 have told him, he could break in from the garden 
 and the cellar. To be sure he said he would hang 
 him, when it should come to be discovered. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 I have seen in him no sign of dotage, nor of madness; 
 but this savors of both. 
 
 SILV. 
 
 And what should make him think of Pablo ? He asked 
 me, might he not go to Pablo, and no one see him ! 
 
640 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 MEN. 
 
 This is still as strange; for Pablo is notoriously sus 
 pected to be a rogue. 
 
 SILV. 
 
 He talked of killing too; <and with poisons as deadly 
 as the foul air of a mine. > Now had he thought 
 of killing Pablo, I should not esteem him so mad; 
 but to think of going to Pablo! That is most 
 lunatic-like. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 He shall not need that; for, see, here comes the knave 
 Pablo to him. 
 
 (Enter PABLO.) 
 
 PAB. 
 
 God save your worship, Senor Mendoza. Good e en, 
 honest Silvano. Is your master at home? 
 
 SILV. 
 Why if he be at home, what is that to you ? 
 
 PAB. 
 
 So much that I must even beg of your friendship to be 
 admitted to speak with him. 
 
 SILV. 
 
 <To be dinged over the head with an old ledger, or a 
 bundle of ingots? Why thou graceless, besotted 
 vagabond! what puts it into thy mind to think 
 he would lend thee anything? 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 641 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Why if I have good security, why not ? I am as honest 
 a man as another, I care not who knows it. I 
 have business with Senor Febro, your master; and 
 you were best tell him so, for it concerns him to 
 know. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 If thou wert not beyond the belief of an honest man 
 thy impudence would utterly ruin the fame of an 
 honest man.> How canst thou have the folly 
 to think that Febro will speak with thee? Pr y- 
 thee get thee gone, ere he come out and do thee 
 some violence. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Who knows? I am here on mine own business; and I 
 will have the law of any one that hinders me. 
 
 S1LV. 
 
 If thou wilt have the law, it must come to thee in shape 
 of a halter. Go, you rogue, get you gone. Law! 
 were there any law in Bogota, thou shouldst have 
 been the first chapter of its execution. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 I will not go till I see Senor Febro ; and if you cease not 
 reviling me, you rascal crumb-eater! you door- 
 hinge! you cloak-thumper! you look for an old 
 hat! I ll beat your bones into brickdust. You 
 rascal ! You will have me in a passion ? You will 
 deny me to see your master? You will call me 
 scurvy names? 
 41 
 
642 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Out, sirrah! will you brawl before Febro s door? See, 
 your insolence has drawn him forth, and now you 
 will answer it. 
 
 (Enter FEBRO.) 
 
 S1LV. 
 
 Ay, now look, you rascal; now you will be talked to. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Good, your worship, Senor Febro ! I have a message 
 from your son. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 From Ramon? 
 
 PAB. 
 
 From Ramon, senor; and this noisy, idle, lick-mouthed 
 platter-monger 
 
 SILV. 
 
 Please, your worship, I said you would speak with no 
 such base fellow. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 You were overforward, sirrah ! 
 
 MEN. 
 What, Febro ! it is not creditable to notice such a man. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Good friend, you shall pardon me I will be mine own 
 adviser. Senor Mendoza, you are welcome. If 
 you fear the taint of his presence, you can walk by. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 643 
 
 MEN. 
 
 (Apart to SILVANO.) 
 We will observe this interview from a distance. 
 
 (Exit, with SILVANO.) 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Now, sirrah, what message sends Ramon by such a 
 messenger? 
 
 PAB. 
 
 I hope your favor will pardon me I have harbored 
 the young senor long. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Speak the message, and no more. He sends thee to me 
 for money? 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Hoping your excellent mercy will pity his misery, 
 which is greater than he can bear, and my pov 
 erty, which enforces me to pray your goodness 
 for some relief. 
 
 FEB. 
 Why, what care I for thy poverty? 
 
 PAB. 
 
 My friendship for the young man has brought me into 
 great necessity; and here he acknowledges, unless 
 I am paid, I may justly throw him into prison. 
 But I hope your worship will not compel me. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 < A thousand ducats ! Thou art a lying knave : where 
 got st thou a thousand ducats to lend him? 
 
644 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PAB. 
 
 O, there is much of that that was the cost of his food 
 and lodging; and then for the rest, I borrowed it, 
 to help him open his mine. But twas opened 
 without profit, the money was swallowed, my 
 creditor is enraged; and now the end is this I 
 must send Senor Ramon to prison, or go myself 
 which he here confesses, and prays your bounty to 
 protect us both. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 And hast thou the impudence to suppose I will give 
 thee a penny to save thee from this fate ? 
 
 PAB. 
 
 No, senor, but I think you will do this much to save 
 Ramon whereby I shall be saved myself. > 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Do as thou wilt ; thou shalt have no money. Put him 
 in prison I am content. He shall have nothing 
 to keep him from the fangs of thee and thy com 
 panions, whom he has chosen his friends. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Truly, sir, misfortune is no elector of friendships, as, 
 by mine honesty, I know full well. I am myself 
 forced by my necessities to love men I hate ; and 
 surely, I think, Senor Ramon would not, unless 
 obliged by his misfortunes willingly consort with 
 men of my degree. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 645 
 
 <FEB. 
 
 Dost thou speak this in honesty and humility? or is it a 
 lure to deceive me ? 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Oh, sir, I have known better days; and therefore do I 
 pity Sefior Ramon, because I see him treading the 
 same path of folly, which led me into my present 
 baseness. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I have mistaken thee ! > 
 
 PAB. 
 
 I have counselled him, too, against his gambling and 
 his drinking; for, besides that I saw how such 
 courses would utterly ruin him, I had no hopes of 
 ever being paid for the cost of supplying him. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Oh, then, if thy interest run the same way with thy 
 humanity, I have much reason to believe thee 
 honest. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Truly, it is a sad sight to see a young man led astray 
 by evil companions a young man, and good. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Young, and once good! 
 
 PAB. 
 
 I cautioned him that Cabarero was a most dangerous 
 companion; it was no honor to be friends with 
 such a hidalgo. 
 
646 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Thou didst ! 
 
 PAB. 
 
 In faith, I told him, Don Antonio had been the ruin of 
 every young man he had sworn love to; and he 
 might see what good had come of his friendship, 
 when he looked on his own wretchedness. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 <Is it possible I have wronged thee so much?> 
 Thou didst tell him this? Well, what said he? 
 
 PAB. 
 
 He wept, and said, his father s severity had left him 
 no other choice 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Ah! 
 
 PAB. 
 
 And swore if thou wouldst forgive him, he would never 
 more speak with Cabarero. But, he knew, thou 
 wouldst not. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Tell me the truth, Pablo, and thou shalt not be sorry. 
 Did Ramon say this? What! never more speak 
 with Cabarero. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 I were but an infidel to belie him he said this, with 
 many tears 
 
 FEB. 
 With tears? 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 647 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Crying, in his despair, it was no matter, thou hadst 
 forsaken him and the sooner his ruin was accom 
 plished, the better; thou wouldst have no more 
 shame, when he was in his grave. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 In his grave? Is he reduced to this despair? 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Despair indeed! All last night while Cabarero was 
 drinking, he did nothing but kiss an old rosary, 
 that he wears round his neck, with a devout 
 passion <that nothing but great misery could 
 breed up in a young man. > 
 
 FEB. 
 
 That rosary did I give him, in his youth. 
 
 It is enough he is not all depraved. 
 
 Pablo ! mine own eyes shall be witness 
 
 Of his contrition; and haply, if I find 
 
 What thou hast spoken is to them confirmed, 
 
 Thou shalt have all that he does rightly owe thee, 
 
 And more, to mark my favor. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Please your worship, tis very true A thousand 
 ducats, senor. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Till I am satisfied thou shalt have nothing. 
 Tonight, I ll come to thee, and suddenly 
 
648 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Appear before him; <when, indeed, if sorrow 
 Be working at his heart, it needs must out 
 Into a bursting penitence. > 
 
 PAD. 
 
 God bless your worship ! 
 I ll have Antonio set aside. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 That villain! 
 
 I have had sinful dreams, and sometimes, almost 
 Have thought to buy some rogue to take his life. 
 
 < I fear me, Ramon cannot be my Ramon, 
 While Cabarero lives to tempt him. > 
 
 PAB. 
 
 O, your worship, 
 
 There are men, who for a recompense would put him 
 Out of the way Perhaps a thousand ducats 
 At most two thousand yes, in faith, two thousand, 
 With some few charges to escape the law, 
 Might have him cared for. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Nay, leave him to heaven : 
 I ll buy no Ramon at the price of blood. 
 
 < After the nightfall, I will come to thee. > 
 Be sure thou dost not speak of mine intent 
 <Thou shalt have nothing else: speak not a word. > 
 Expect me Now, away. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Alack, your worship 
 
 Will give me no relief ? Some little money 
 To buy the boy a supper we are very wretched ! 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 649 
 
 FEB. 
 
 What, wanting food? O, heaven, my strictness runs 
 Into a wicked, barbarous cruelty! 
 Here s gold Buy food; but say not whence it comes. 
 I ll bear enough to free him from thy hands, 
 After the vespers Mark me, after vespers. 
 <Away now, thou shalt see me after vespers !> 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 END OF ACT II. 
 
ACT III 
 
 SCENE I. A room in PABLO S Inn. (Enter 
 CABARERO and PABLO.) 
 
 CAB. 
 
 After the vespers? he will come himself? Every way, 
 this is extravagant good fortune. He will bring 
 gold too? Better still! That gold, were he an 
 angel, shall witness him out of heaven. He shall 
 call me rogue and cur, and such vile names, and 
 not be remembered ? he shall gibe me when I offer 
 to ennoble his dowdy daughter? Oh, I have often 
 dreamed how he should repent him! 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Come, slife, this will be too improbable, and danger 
 ous. 
 
 CAB. 
 He would hire thee to assassinate me too? 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Ay, never believe me else : he offered me two thousand 
 ducats to slay thee. But I told him thou wert my 
 true friend and I would not kill thee for so little. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 A rope for a dagger! a gibbet for a ditch! Oh, I see 
 him, as in a picture, with the priest at his side, 
 650 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 651 
 
 the hangman at his neck, and the multitude 
 hooting him to the scaffold, and all the while, I 
 am rattling his dollars in my pocket ! 
 
 PAB. 
 
 < I tell thee, I like not this plan. Here are two others: 
 First we will take Ramon into our counsel, 
 reconcile him with his father and use him for our 
 banker. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Hang him, no: his milk and water cowardice will keep 
 us beggars. If his father forgive him, he will 
 repent and forsake us. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Why, then as the old man will bring a thousand 
 ducats with him we may help him to a ditch, 
 and so make sure of that : for otherwise, he will see 
 I am cheating him, and give me nothing. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 No killing! except by the laws. Every way, I assure 
 thee, this plan is the best. It is easiest, it veils us 
 from suspicion, and it makes us most profit. If 
 we are in danger, it is our only safety. > 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Well, I understand all But if the viceroy should 
 hang me? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Thou art the king s witness, thy life is secure; tis but 
 a week in prison, and thou comest out purified 
 with a pardon. 
 
652 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PAB. 
 
 A week in prison! Before the week is over, they may 
 sift out the truth and give me to Satan. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Why, then, we will bribe thee out of the jailer s hands, 
 though it should cost a thousand pesos. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 That s too much! I will get a man out for half that. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Wouldst thou be economical with thine own neck? 
 Thy share shall not be the less, whatsoever be the 
 cost. 
 
 PAB. 
 The story will be too incredible. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Is not Ramon a good witness? Who shall resist his 
 testimony ? 
 
 PAB. 
 
 But will he appear? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 As surely as thou shalt; for he has that baseness of 
 cowardice, he will sell the lives of all his friends, 
 to save the worthlessness of his own. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 I must have a full third. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 653 
 
 CAB. 
 
 A full half ! Methinks that were but scurvy generosity 
 to share our gains with this whining, unnatural 
 rogue, who is but the cipher of the triumvirate! 
 
 PAB. 
 
 I think so too ! < Tis but honest to cheat him who 
 cheats his father. > 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Remember that every coin carries the private mark of 
 the broker; wherefore we must bury it till the hue 
 and cry be over, and then melt it into ingots, as 
 if it came from a mine. Harkee! we will bury it 
 in two portions, in one a thousand pesos or so; 
 this shalt thou show the officers. But the other 
 thou must swear was hidden from thee. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 < I warrant me ; but if you deceive me, I will impeach 
 you, by St. Geronimo, I will ! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Fear not; I can do nothing without thee. We will to 
 Spain together. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 With all my heart, and without Ramon? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Oh, he will marry Mendo/a s daughter; and in the 
 rapture of his matrimony, what will be the loss of 
 a little money to him?> 
 
654 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 I 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Well, I am agreed: I long for the vesper bell. But 
 remember, I say, Cabarero, no roguery! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Not a little, I tell thee: we will rob and cheat like 
 honest gentlemen and friends, <and enjoy our 
 good fortune together. > Come, I left Ramon at 
 the bottle, and now he will be brave enough to 
 lead to the vaults of darkness, or his father. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE II. A room in FEBRO S house. (Enter 
 LEONOR and FERNANDO.) 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Pray you, begone; I did not promise you; 
 And if my father hear you, oh, dear saints, 
 I shall have no more peace to stay with him. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Wilt thou then stay and marry Baltasar? 
 Now, wert thou half as wise as other maids, 
 Thou wouldst not fright at this brave opportunity, 
 But chain me on the instant. Silly love! 
 Though I am mad enough to fly tonight, 
 Tomorrow may my father s strength prevail, 
 And bond me to another. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Indeed! indeed! 
 And is there fear your sire will be so cruel ? 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 655 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Nay, very certain. The anger of your father 
 
 Is but a matchlight, kindling on the instant, 
 
 And, on the instant, with a sigh put out; 
 
 But my sire s rage will be a conflagration. 
 
 < Lit in a mine, and roaring on forever. 
 
 Oh, I could tell thee stories of my sire, 
 
 And of myself, if so I durst, would make thee 
 
 Instant and resolute. For know, thou doubter, 
 
 Whate er his worth, my father loves me well: 
 
 And know I not how long I might have courage 
 
 To act the sin will lose me all that love, 
 
 And gain me all that fury. > Wherefore, quick ! 
 
 While our fates smile on us, let us begone. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 In sooth, tis wrong. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Why, here s a delicate bundle 
 Might grace the shoulder of a soldier s spouse, 
 As sister to a knapsack. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Alack, for pity! 
 Twill break my father s heart. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 <It shall be mended. 
 
 Now, with my life> I ll warrant his forgiveness: 
 Would I could hope my father s ! A rogue am I. 
 Thou know st not at how rich a cost I buy thee. 
 Come, do not weep : I swear, this flight will bring thee 
 Nothing but happiness. Tis I alone 
 Will feel the punishment. 
 
656 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 LEON. 
 
 And wilt thou feel it? 
 I am determined then I will not fly, 
 Thus to bring trouble to thee. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 <Why, here s a wind, 
 
 Fooling the compass! and yet so sweet and pleasant, 
 Breathing the gentle odors of true love, 
 That I ll forgive it. Fear not thou for me; > 
 Whatever of state and men s consideration, 
 Whate er of hope, or what of certainty, 
 To rise to greatness, I give up for thee, 
 < I give up with good will at first, with fear 
 And strong reluctance, but, at this good hour 
 With joy and pride; > for now I know that fate 
 May hide more harjpiness in a lowly cot, 
 Than e er the thrones in great men s palaces. 
 < So to a cot we ll hie us, in some nook 
 Of a delicious valley, where the mountains, 
 Walling us in with azure, up to heaven, 
 Shut out all things but heaven. > 
 
 LEON. 
 
 O, heaven be with me ! 
 I fear to fly. Come thou some other time : 
 Let me think more of this. Come back tomorrow 
 Let me think more; and, as I think, once more 
 Look on my father s face. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 A thousand times, 
 
 After tonight, for he will soon forgive thee. 
 Nay, look not back. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 657 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Ah ! hark ! we are discovered ! 
 Another time He is stirring in the vault ! 
 
 FERN. 
 Pause not, the door is open. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 It is too late: 
 I hear my brother s step ! Away, Rolando ! 
 
 FERN. 
 
 This comes of trembling ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Tomorrow night 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Tomorrow ! 
 Farewell, and dream of me. (Exit.) 
 
 LEON. 
 
 He ll see the bundle! 
 (Enter JUANA.) 
 My friend and Ramon s love ! She saw Rolando ! 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Why, Leonor, does no one watch the door? 
 This might invite a robbery. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Odd s heart, a robbery! 
 
 42 
 
658 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 And how you tremble! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 I am not afeard ! 
 
 My father is in the vaults; and so I am not 
 Afeard of him or any other man. 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Afeard of him ! Oh ! you are much confused. 
 Afraid of him! Why, sure it was no rogue, 
 Although, good sooth, he muffled up his face, 
 As he brushed by me Tell me, Leonor 
 I thought twas Ramon! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 And perhaps it was 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Was it indeed ! and did he see his father? 
 And will his father pardon him? Oh, for pity! 
 How could it be so, when so timorously 
 He stole away, and stole away from me? 
 <Why shouldst thou hide it from me?> 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Did you see anybody? 
 Why Ramon was not here. 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Who could it be? 
 
 Sure you are not ignorant, some man some stranger, 
 Cloaked to the eyes, was. stealing through the house ? 
 Indeed you should call your father. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 659 
 
 LEON. 
 
 He would be angry- 
 Frightened, I mean 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Oho! a bundle nicely tied 
 In a fair Eastern kerchief! and a man 
 Stealing away ! and then these thousand blushes, 
 And contradictions ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Oh, my dear Juana! 
 You ll not betray me ! 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Shall I laugh at thee? 
 I will not frown; I am not one of those 
 That step between true hearts, and break them Go; 
 Think what thou doest, before thou art resolved; 
 Think what thou doest, before thou leavest thy father ; 
 Think of him well ; think of thy brothers too ; 
 Think of thy lover, is he good and worthy; 
 < Think of thyself, thy maiden reputation > 
 Think of thyself; then, if thy heart confirms thee, 
 Follow the guidance of thy love, and go, 
 <With heaven to comfort thee / will not stay thee. 
 I would have no heart suffer, save my own. > 
 But be not rash, be not precipitate : 
 Methinks your flight would break your father s heart. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 I will not leave him, for I know indeed, 
 (Heaven pardon me that e er I should forget it!) 
 He is wo enough for Ramon. 
 
66o DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Is he indeed? 
 
 If that be so, then have I happier hopes 
 To charm his anger into loving pardon. 
 I came to be his suitor. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Shall I call him? 
 
 And yet I fear to have you pray him now. 
 He has been vexed a thousand times today. 
 And was a little strange and irritable. 
 These crosses move him deeper than of old 
 Tomorrow will be better. 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Think not so. 
 
 The happiness, almost the life of Ramon 
 Rests on a speedy pardon. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 He is in the vault 
 
 About some project. If you ll wait awhile, 
 Francisco will come back, and call him forth 
 Nay, there s my brother! 
 
 (Enter MENDOZA and SILVANO.) 
 
 It is impossible. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 I tell thee, good Silvano, 
 
 SILV. 
 
 Ask my mistress else. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 661 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Father! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 What is the senor s will? 
 
 MEN. 
 
 By heaven! 
 
 There s roguery afoot! Where is your father? 
 There are knaves a-robbing him. 
 
 (Exit SILVANO.) 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Good sir, for pity, 
 
 What do you mean? My father, these two hours, 
 Has been i the vaults. 
 
 MEN. 
 / 
 
 I say it cannot be : 
 
 There are ruffians in the garden : by this hand, 
 I saw a lantern twice flash through the trees, 
 Heard voices murmuring and 
 
 (Re-enter SILVANO.) 
 
 SILV. 
 
 The vault is locked: 
 
 Heaven guard him well, my master is not there! 
 I ll to the garden. (Exit.) 
 
 LEON. 
 
 He did not come out ! 
 Perhaps they have murdered him ! 
 
662 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 MEN. 
 
 What, help ! ho, help ! 
 Here s villainy! foul, bloody villainy! 
 
 (Enter FRANCISCO.) 
 
 O, wretched boy, your father s vaults are robbed, 
 And he perhaps is murdered ! 
 
 (Exit FRANCISCO.) 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Give him help: 
 He is old and feeble. 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 < Do not be dismayed. > 
 (Re-enter SILVANO, bearing a cloak.) 
 
 SILV. 
 
 Thieves! thieves! we are robbed! the garden gate is 
 
 open, 
 The cellar wall broke through, the vault exposed. 
 
 (Re-enter FRANCISCO.) 
 
 This found I hanging on a cactus bush; 
 This morn I noted it on Pablo s back. 
 I know the robber! 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Run thou for alguazils, 
 And follow me to Pablo s Sister, fear not : 
 The door is locked, my father is not there 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 663 
 
 It is no murder, but a robbery. 
 
 Senor Mendoza, will you go with me 
 
 Or tarry here, and break this to my father ? 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Nay, I will go with you Stay with the girl. (To 
 JUAN A.) 
 
 my life, the strangest marvel ! Robbed by Pablo ! 
 We must be quick A most strange villainy ! 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE III. A room in PABLO S Inn. (Enter 
 PABLO, RAMON, and CAB ARE RO each bearing a bag of 
 coin.) 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Victoria! Thou art revenged, enriched and beatified; 
 the mine is found, and Juana is thine own ! We 
 will melt these dollars into ingots, show them to 
 Mendoza, and, tomorrow, thou wilt be in paradise. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 In hell, I think; for what devil is blacker than I ? But 
 he forced me to it ! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Ay, he forced thee to it. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 We are followed too; I hear the hue and cry! Let us 
 escape Do you not hear? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 1 hear the beating of thy silly heart. Why what a 
 
 cowardly poor-spirited knave hath vile liquor 
 
66 4 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 made thee! Pablo, thou art the king of cheats 
 Wine, and a crucible, and a roaring hot fire I 
 tell thee, thou art mad ! All is safe. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Hark, hark, Antonio! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Tis the rumbling of a cart. Fy upon thy white giz 
 zard ! Wilt thou never make a rascal of spirit ? 
 (A knocking.) 
 
 ( RAM. ) 
 ( PAD. | 
 
 Hark! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 We are lost! we are lost! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 (To PABLO.) 
 Down with thee to the door, and be wise. 
 
 (Exit PABLO [CABARERO hides the gold].) 
 
 RAM. 
 We are undone! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 I will stab thee, if thou goest on with this clamor. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Antonio ! 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 665 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Art thou not now a rascal ? and why shouldst thou not 
 have the wit and courage of a rascal? Put on a 
 face of iron, and harden thy nerves into the same 
 metal. This is a friend Lo, he comes to spy on 
 thee! 
 
 (Re-enter PABLO, conducting FEBRO [FEBRO bearing 
 a bag of coin].) 
 
 He can never forgive thee now, remember that. 
 Good even, Senor Febro, you are very welcome. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Away, bad man! I ll have no words with thee. 
 My office here is full of love and peace. 
 And hath no part in thee, except to steal 
 A victim from thee. Hark thee, Ramon, boy; 
 Thou once wert good, and dutiful and loving 
 Loving, I say, and then, besides, thou wert 
 The first life of thy mother. What thou wert 
 To mine own old affections, I ll not speak. 
 Thou hast acted many follies; yet, because 
 <Of mine own weakness, and because I know> 
 They have weighed thee down with heavy misery, 
 I am willing to forgive them. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Hah! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 < Forgive them ! > 
 
 One thing alone and if thy heart yet holds 
 A grain of love, it will not start at that; 
 <One thing alone will bear thee back again 
 
666 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Into my house perhaps my heart too. > Bid 
 Farewell unto this man, who loves thee not; 
 Know him no more ; and here am I to free thee 
 From his bad thraldom Look, I have gold with me. 
 
 (Displaying a bag.) 
 Enough to ransom thee. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 What, gold! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I heard 
 How far thy miseries had carried thee. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 What gold ? hah ! gold for me ? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Thou seest! enough 
 
 Perhaps o the present, to discharge thy debts. 
 And make thee good and happy once again. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Ha! ha! 
 
 Thou couldst relent then ? Why thou art gone mad 
 
 Thou bring st me money! It is too late. 
 
 <CAB. 
 
 (Apart to RAMON.) 
 Well said! 
 
 Thou art a man. He waited his pleasure. What has 
 he made thee ? > 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Ramon, my son! 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 667 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Oho ! thy son ! 
 
 Why what a father had that son? a father 
 Who, while forgiveness would have wrought the son 
 Into a holy penitent, gave him wrath, 
 And turned him to perdition What a father! 
 To do this mischief to his child ; and when 
 He saw his child i the gulf of hell, to taunt him 
 With words of pardon ! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Bravo ! a proper spirit ! 
 
 Thou seest, old man! thou wouldst not hearken to me. 
 Oho, I begged you; but you called me rogue 
 Villain, and rogue. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Ramon, thou knowst not what thou sayest. Perhaps 
 I was too hard with thee; but I repent me, 
 Wilt thou have pardon? love and pardon? 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Yea; 
 
 Curses for pardon, and a knife for love! 
 
 I am not thy son ; the thing that was thy Ramon 
 
 Is perished ! lost, forever lost ! no atom 
 
 That once was his, left breathing, all destroyed, 
 
 And made the elements of fiends Oh, hence! 
 
 Away! old maniac, hence! 
 
 And listen to my boy? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Do I live 
 
668 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Hark! 
 
 VOICES WITHIN. 
 
 Thieves! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 0, heaven, 
 
 Thou judges! sorely! Is it so indeed? 
 Would I had died or ere I heard these words. 
 These worse than death! Well, God be with thee, 
 
 Ramon : 
 Thou hast killed thy father. 
 
 VOICES. 
 
 Thieves! thieves! thieves! 
 
 (Enter FRANCISCO, SILVANO, MENDOZA, with Alguazils. 
 As they enter, CABARERO seizes upon FEBRO.) 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Stand fast! 
 Old rogue, dost think to scape! The laws will have 
 
 thee. 
 The laws, I say, hah! 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Father! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Off, thoucub! 
 
 Touch not the rogue. Your prisoner, officers! 
 Febro, the robber of Febro! 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 669 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Villain and fiend ! 
 (He is held.) 
 
 FEB. 
 
 What is the matter, son ? Will no man drag 
 This fellow from me? 
 
 A felon knave. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Your prisoner, officers ! 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 O, father! father! Brother! 
 Why don t you speak ? Why don t iyou kill the villain ? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 (Apart to RAMON.) 
 
 Away with thee! (Exit RAMON.) 
 
 Your prisoner, officers! 
 Whom I do here accuse, with witnesses 
 More perfect than myself, of robbery 
 And fraud upon his trust. And here you have 
 In his own hands, part of his felony; 
 And, there i the corner, more of his vile crime. 
 
 FEB. 
 Thou raving ruffian ! 
 
 MEN. 
 
 What, Antonio ? 
 Chargest thou Febro with self -robbery ? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Why, who is robbed? 
 
670 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 O, father! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 It shall be proved. 
 
 PAB. 
 I claim the royal mercy. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Shake off this stare, 
 
 Art thou insane ? They do accuse thee, Febro, 
 Of robbing thine own vaults. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Do I not dream? 
 
 MEN. 
 
 <Thy doors are broke. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I am ruined! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Hark ! he owns it ! 
 
 It shall be proved before his excellency, 
 Perfectly proved, with witnesses enough. 
 Here s Pablo, his accomplice, has confessed. > 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 O, father! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Robbed? 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 671 
 
 CAB. 
 
 < Take him before the viceroy 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I ll have the villain for ten thousand ducats: 
 I ll have it proclaimed. 
 
 FRAN. 
 O, father! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Robbed? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Away?> 
 
 He apes amaze. Carry him to the viceroy. 
 It shall be proved before his excellency. 
 
 [ALL. 
 Away ! Away ! Away !] 
 
 (Exeunt [Omnes. FEBRO in the hands of the Alguazil.}.) 
 
 END OF ACT III. 
 
ACT IV 
 
 SCENE I. A room in the vice-regal palace. (Enter 
 the Viceroy, attended.) 
 
 PALM. 
 
 They are insane that say t the broker robbed ! 
 And Febro turned a rogue ! Now surely madness 
 May sweep o er nations like a pestilence, 
 And folly, like a corporal epidemic, 
 Fever the minds of all. What is t but madness, 
 Could fill the city with this riotous cry, 
 Febro is robbed. Febro hath done a fraud? 
 < I know the man sure of all men most honest, 
 And I did think most cautious. Yet it may be, 
 As my fear whispers me, he has been robbed, 
 And those I know, I feel, how that may be 
 Those who have suffered in his losses, raise, 
 From grief and rage, the cry of villainy > 
 What ! do they bring their fury to the palace? 
 
 1ST OFFICER. 
 
 Even so, your excellency; they have dragged 
 The broker to the gates, and cry for justice. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Justice for all ! Set them before us straight. 
 That he who needs it most, this poor old man, 
 May be protected from the accusers rage, 
 And they be taught how foolishly they wrong him. 
 
 672 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 673 
 
 (Enter CABARERO, RAMON, MENDOZA, FRANCISCO, with 
 Officers bringing FEBRO and PABLO. CABARERO, 
 and some others, crying Justice! justice!) 
 
 PALM. 
 
 What now, ye violent and thoughtless men, 
 What crime you are committing, know you not, 
 Thus, with rude hands, dishonoring the body, 
 And, with rude tongues, the name and reputation, 
 Of a most honest worthy citizen? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Your excellency is deceived; this man 
 Is a most subtle and confirmed rogue, 
 <As will be witnessed to your excellency. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 What, Febro! dost thou hear? What means this 
 
 charge ? 
 Why do I find thee thus?> 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Oh, noble viceroy, 
 
 Punish these men, that, with such slanderous hate, 
 Destroy my father. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 The prisoner, please your highness, 
 Has been discovered in a knavish fraud. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Hold thy peace, yet. What, Febro 
 
 43 
 
674 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I will speak 
 
 Thou rogue, I ll have thee howl! Ay, by my troth, 
 And every man of them. Are they all crazed? 
 <Oh, I am glad to see your excellency 
 These rogues ! these rogues ! O, but that I have lost 
 My faculties in wonder, I could speak 
 Till they were struck with shame. What is the 
 
 matter ? > 
 
 Their cry is, I am robbed. I know not that; 
 <Pray you discharge me, let me see to it. 
 I cannot think t; and yet it may be so. 
 I may be robbed (heaven pity mine old age !) 
 And many wronged with me But tis not that. > 
 What do they mean? I pray, your highness, mark 
 
 them. 
 
 They charge me with dishonest practices. 
 Dishonest practices ! If there be law, 
 I will have vengeance on them. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 So thou shalt, 
 
 To the extreme of justice Good Mendoza 
 Thou art the calmest here; speak what thou knowst 
 Of this same robbery. Is there a robbery? 
 <Hath any man been spoiled of property ?> 
 Have Febro s chests been broken? 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Please, your highness, 
 Tis even too true; and true it is (I say it 
 With shame and sorrow, and with much amazement) 
 There are particulars of damning moment, 
 That show connivance where one would not think it. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 675 
 
 FEB. 
 
 By heaven! tis false! Who is there could connive 
 Of all my house ? Will any say twas I ? 
 <Ay, they do say it; they do charge it on me!> 
 Pray, good your excellency, search this well; 
 <Pray you, be quick, and let me know it all. 
 There is some plot against me; I am robbed. 
 Well, is not that enough? I am then ruined 
 If robbed, why ruined; for, of all still left, 
 There s not enough to cover o er that loss. 
 That will bring many into need. Search well;> 
 Find me the rogues, and give me back my gold; 
 I can with that pay all, and more than all. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Febro, I pity thee. this looks not well 
 
 Say st thou, connivance ? < In some hour of madness, 
 
 Spirits of virtue have themselves forgot, 
 
 And, in one deed, turned villains. > Speak, Mendoza, 
 
 Utter the charge, if charge thou hast to make; 
 
 <Tell me thy tale, if any wrong thou know st;> 
 
 And, in my quality of arbiter, 
 
 I will forget who is the man accused, 
 
 And judge him as a stranger. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Let him speak; 
 
 I do defy him; let him speak; let all. 
 All men, my foemen and my friends alike, 
 I do defy to speak a wrong of me ! 
 
 <MEN. 
 
 Until today, I dreamed no wrong of Febro; 
 Nor, please your highness, could I dream it now, 
 But that I think he has not his proper mind. 
 
676 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Why that may be; you keep me still bewildered, 
 Knowing myself all ruined, but not how; 
 Traduced, maligned, but wherefore ignorant. 
 Despatch, Mendoza, for I have no fear. 
 You will be sorry to have thought this wrong. 
 Not in my mind ! In sooth, you do distract me. > 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Please, your excellency. 
 Pablo, the innkeeper, here throws himself 
 On the king s mercy; and, himself avowing 
 Accomplice in the act, Baptist a charges 
 To have been his leader. 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Oh, your noble highness, 
 This is an open villainy. That Pablo 
 Is a notorious rogue, <a thief and liar, > 
 Not to be hearkened to by honest men. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Silence, Francisco; be not overrash; 
 Thy father shall have justice. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Noble sir, 
 
 What the youth says of Pablo is most true; 
 No honest man should hearken to his speech ; 
 Yet Febro spoke with him, and I myself 
 Witnessed the conference. 
 
 I spoke with him. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Why, so I did; 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 677 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Peace, Febro, Heaven 
 
 be with thee ! 
 
 < This is a cloud that gathers to a storm ! > 
 He spoke with Pablo ? 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Yes, and gave him money. 
 His man Silvano there stood at my side, 
 And watched him with me. < At my words of wonder, 
 (For truth twas wonderful to see the broker 
 In earnest speech with such a man as Pablo) 
 Silvano > [and] told me how, short time before 
 Febro demanded, if he might not steal 
 To Pablo unobserved; and did assure me 
 He feared his master was not in his mind; 
 Wherefore, in proof, he told me how, before, 
 Febro had talked with senor Cabarero 
 Inviting him to robbery and flight, 
 And such wild things as surely proved him mad. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Put me on oath, and let me swear this true. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Why this is true. 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 O, father! father! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Febro! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I say tis true ; where is the need to swear it ? 
 
678 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Febro, be wise; I pity thee. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I never 
 
 Thought to conceal it. Without fear, I own it ; 
 I talked with Cabarero, and did urge him 
 To rob me. 
 
 CAB. 
 He confesses! 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Pray you, stop him: 
 He knows not what he says O, father! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Boy, 
 
 Did I e er teach thee then to lie? I own it 
 I bade him rob me, <at the evil urgings 
 Of my bad fancy ; > for I hoped that act 
 Might bring him to the scaffold; and I thought, 
 If he were dead, Ramon, my outcast Ramon, 
 Might be mine own again. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Now by my faith, 
 
 That Ramon, whom he seems to love so well, 
 He kept in want and misery, and knew it. 
 For Ramon I besought him, he denied me. 
 He owns the urging ay, he urged me sore. 
 I will not say with what rich tempting offers. 
 In sooth, I thought him mad; for wherefore should he, 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 679 
 
 In his old age, invent so wild a fraud? 
 
 Tis true, he had had losses and perhaps 
 
 These same had turned his brains ; wherefore I hope 
 
 Your excellency will be merciful. 
 
 Sure he was mad ; though subtle and discreet 
 
 In the vile plan he showed me. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 O, thou villain! 
 
 I am sorry I did spare thee. For a little 
 I could have bought thy life. Your highness 
 
 hears him ! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Your highness hears him ! Pablo will confess 
 He would have bought him to assassinate me. 
 It was not safe for him to have me live; 
 But nevertheless I bring not that against him. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 It is not true; and Pablo knows I told him, 
 We would this bad man leave to heaven. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Still Pablo! 
 
 And wilt thou still, unhappy, Febro, darken 
 Thy hope by such admissions? What, indeed! 
 Hold speech with Pablo? and on such black subjects? 
 Talk with a wretch about another s murder? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I talked with Pablo ; will your highness blame me ? 
 
 It was of Ramon, and his miseries; 
 
 I gave him money too it was for Ramon ! 
 
 I sought his house, but it was still for Ramon! 
 
68o DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CAB. 
 
 And Ramon should have been his accessory ! 
 
 (Apart to Ramon.) Peace, <on thy life! > There is 
 
 good proof of this; 
 Will not your excellency list to Pablo? 
 The bark was ready on the river; seek it; 
 It waits for Febro Pablo can speak all. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 He shall be heard. Speak thou again, Mendoza. 
 
 I am amazed and shocked. What know st thou more, 
 
 To make this madness yet more probable? 
 
 MEN. 
 
 My terrace roof o erlooks Baptista s garden. 
 
 I sat above, to breathe the vesper air; 
 
 And twice or thrice, I marked a glimmering lamp 
 
 Among the shrubs, and, in the end, a light 
 
 Flashing as from an open door, where was 
 
 No door, save one ne er opened. <This thing moved 
 
 me; 
 
 And giving all my faculties to watch, 
 Forthwith I heard low murmurs as of voices, 
 And, once or twice, the crashing of men s feet 
 Along the pebbled alleys. > Straight I ran 
 To give the alarm. Febro was in the vault, 
 And all the evening had been ; so I learned 
 From his affrighted daughter, who was sure 
 (And so Silvano) he had not passed out. 
 Judge my surprise to find the door well locked, 
 And Febro vanished! how, but through the door 
 That opened on the garden? and with what, 
 Save the rich treasures which were there no more ? 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 68 1 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Alas, the key that oped that garden door, 
 Was lost a month ago ; and my poor father 
 Tomorrow would have walled it up. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Tomorrow? 
 
 For a whole month he left his vaults exposed ? 
 
 This Leave the substance of confiding men 
 
 To a month s accidents and knaveries! 
 
 This looks but darkly. Speak ; what more, Mendoza ? 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Some wild words dropped from mine own daughter s 
 
 lips: 
 
 She had abruptly visited the house, 
 And stumbled on a man close muffled up, 
 Who brushed by her, and fled; and, in addition, 
 Found Leonor confounded and perturbed, 
 Her mantle in her hand, and at her side 
 A bundle, seemingly prepared for flight. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 My daughter ! If thou beest a man and father, 
 Discharge me straight, and let me save my child. 
 That slave Rolando! O, I see it now; 
 He is the rogue! tis he has broke my vaults, 
 And steals my girl away ! Let me begone. 
 My Leonor! I ll give you up my life, 
 If you seek that; but let me save my child ! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Stay. My heart bleeds for thee. I cannot free thee. 
 This charge is heavy, and most like to truth. 
 
682 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 You have no heart ! Francisco, you are free ; 
 You have not robbed, nobody calls you rogue 
 Get thee to home, and to thy sister. 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Father! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Save me thy sister, or I 11 live to curse thee 
 
 (Exit FRANCISCO.) 
 
 I thought your excellency was a man ! 
 You gave me friendship too. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 I did, Baptist a, 
 And will disprove this fearful charge. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 My child! 
 
 You keep me here, to set me mad with charges 
 That make me seem a rogue; and all the while 
 Dishonor seeks my child A step might save her! 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Let him be satisfied ; his girl is safe ; 
 I left Juana with her. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Heaven reward thee ! 
 
 I will forgive thee all thou hast said against me. 
 She has not fled! How could I think she would? 
 Fly from me in my wretchedness ! and with 
 The man that robbed me! 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 683 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Is not this well carried? 
 
 (Apart to RAMON.) 
 Hold up thy head Thou seest how fortune helps us. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Hast thou still more, Mendoza? 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Silvano here 
 Picked up the cloak of Pablo. 
 
 I lost it in the garden. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 I am guilty, 
 
 MEN. 
 
 But little more 
 
 Have I to say, but, haply, that most fatal. 
 With officers, we followed to the inn; 
 And there, in the hands of Cabarero, stood 
 Unhappy Febro. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Ay, most miserable! 
 
 < Ramon, why didst thou say those things to me? 
 I think they have turned my brain ! 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Wretched Baptista;> 
 
 With still, even in his frightened grasp, a bag 
 Of the same coin that had that moment vanished. 
 
684 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I took it there Why look ye thus upon me? 
 I bore it with me to redeem my son. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Ay, sooth, with three bags more! 
 
 (Apart to RAMON.) 
 
 Think of Juana ! 
 
 < This thing is for a time. > Sefior Mendoza 
 Will say he found them: faith, twas Pablo brought 
 
 them. 
 I can attest how this was all discovered. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Mendoza, is this true? 
 
 Here is the gold. 
 
 MEN. 
 Indeed most true; 
 
 PALM. 
 
 What fiend possessed thee, Febro? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Well, do you judge it true ? How got it there ? 
 I do not know; I took but one bag with me, 
 To save my boy. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Whom didst thou counsel with? 
 Alas, all weighs against thee. Hadst thou spoke 
 But to thy daughter, or thy man, of this. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 685 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I spoke with none : and wherefore should I speak ? 
 Will Pablo charge me? Pablo did deceive me; 
 He told me lies of Ramon. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 There again ! 
 
 He told some truths he told where they had hid 
 Their ruffian spoils. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 He did! and are they found? 
 All will be well again! Confess all, Pablo, 
 Where didst thou hide the gold? 
 
 PALM. 
 
 <Now, but that I 
 
 Here see the wanderings of a dotish man, 
 I should pronounce this folly innocence. 
 Febro, attend : thy star is darkening fast ; 
 And the old trunk, whose wealthy branches hid 
 The secret rot that hollowed at its heart, 
 Is trembling in the tempest : lo, the bolt 
 Comes to the earth, and hisses at thy front 
 A moment, ere it fells thee. > Speak no more, 
 If not more wisely Thou, Mendoza, art, 
 In all thou hast said, confirmed ? 
 
 MEN. 
 
 I am. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 And thou, Antonio, on thy hopes of heaven, 
 Speak st but the truth? 
 
686 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 CAB. 
 
 I do. 
 < (A part to RAMON.) 
 
 Shudder no more. > 
 And Pablo will swear all as I have said. 
 If they do find the gold he swore they buried, 
 Twill show his truth. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 They have already found it; 
 Yet a small part alone some thousand ducats. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Thou swear st this, Pablo? 
 
 I hope for mercy ! 
 
 PAB. 
 
 Yes, your highness, yes : 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Tell mine officers 
 Where lie the greater profits of thy crime. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 I know no more; I left the bags with Febro, 
 And him i the garden, that I might straight bury 
 Mine own share in the place whereof I told them. 
 As for the rest, good faith, I know no more; 
 Febro had charge of that. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Now, were heaven just, 
 Thou shouldst die with this slander in thy throat, 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 687 
 
 Monster of falsehood ! Has it come to this? 
 
 Is t true? is t possible? a man like me, 
 
 Old, in the twilight of my years, and looking 
 
 Into the dusky midnight of my grave, 
 
 An old man that has lived a life, whereon 
 
 No man hath found a stain <Oh! you are mad, 
 
 To think this thing of me. > A fraud? a fraud! 
 
 What ! / commit it ? with these gray hairs too ? 
 
 And without aim, save to enrich this rogue, 
 
 That swears away my life? 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Aimless, indeed, 
 
 Unnatural, and most incredible; 
 And therefore easily disproved, hadst thou 
 One proof beyond its wonder. <Give me proof; 
 Discredit not this knave, I know him well ; 
 But show thou wert not with him, or for what; 
 And hadst no gold with thee or wherefore hadst it ; 
 Or do what will be better for thy soul, 
 Rouse from this dotish fit that has transformed thee, > 
 Repent, confess, deliver up the spoils 
 <Of thy unhallowed avarice; and, in memory 
 Of thy once stainless fame (no more unsullied) > 
 And in regard of years that should be reverend, 
 In pity and in peace, we will discharge thee. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I do repent me of my miseries; 
 I do confess that I am wronged and lost, 
 Robbed, and traduced, and by collusion slain, 
 Trapped by false witnesses, and by an unjust judge 
 Unrighteously condemned. 
 
688 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Say st thou, Baptista! 
 
 " A n unjust judge ? " " unrighteously condemned ? 
 What say the witnesses? thy friend, Mendoza? 
 Will he traduce thee ? What Antonio here ? 
 Does he gain aught to harm thee ? What this Pablo ? 
 Who prates his own life into jeopardy? 
 And what By heaven, I would have spared thee 
 
 that! 
 What says thy son? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 My son ! my Ramon ! Ay, let Ramon speak, 
 Hah ! what ! does Ramon charge me ? 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Hear st thou, Ramon? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 < (Apart to RAMON.) 
 Wilt thou be ruined ? > 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Ramon ? 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Dost thou see ! 
 
 Horror hath made him dumb. Had he a word 
 To aid thy misery, he had spoken it. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Dost thou accuse me, boy ? I do defy thee ! 
 What ! swear against thy father ? Ope thy lips ; 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 689 
 
 < Speak what thou canst. Oh, now I have been 
 
 mad! > 
 
 Thou know st full well for what I sought thee out. 
 Why art thou silent? <Lo, a word of thine 
 Would clear up all ; speak thou that word. Accuse me ? 
 My son accuse me?> By the curse, not yet 
 Uttered nor thought of by the father s curse, 
 That will convert thy bosom to a hell, 
 Ne er to be quenched by penitence and prayers, 
 Speak, and speak truly. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Stand aside. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Ha, ha! 
 One word clears all ; and he will speak it. Hark ! 
 
 (RAMON, endeavoring to speak, falls into a swoon.) 
 My son! my son! oh, you have killed my Ramon! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Tis thou hast done it. < What ! though thou wert so 
 
 cruel , 
 
 Though thou hadst driven him from thy roof and love, 
 He could not speak the word that should destroy 
 
 thee.> 
 
 Bear him away; his silence speaks enough, 
 I will not force him to unlock his lips, 
 In the unnatural charge. 
 
 (RAMON is led out.) 
 
 Art thou content ? 
 
 All speaks thy guilt. Confess ; repair thy fault ; 
 Disgorge thy spoils. 
 
 44 
 
690 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Do with me what you will, 
 You have robbed and ruined me among you all, 
 
 < What care I now how soon you take my life ? > 
 You make me out a felon, and have turned, 
 Heaven plague you all have turned my children 
 
 gainst me. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Obstinate still? Confess, and take our mercy. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 The mercy of oppressors ! Heaven confound you ! 
 I know why you condemn me, ay, full well: 
 
 < I could have paid you all I have claims yet ; > 
 You kill me for your losses. When you will: 
 
 The grave is quiet, and Heaven will yet avenge me. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Amazed and sorrowing, we pronounce thee guilty 
 
 Of a most mad, most base, and wicked fraud, 
 
 For which our laws of Spain demand thy life. 
 
 Yet, in respect of thy augmented years, 
 
 We spare thee that. Depart; live and repent thee. 
 
 What property still openly is thine 
 
 We seize for benefit of the many wronged. 
 
 We give thee life, but judge thee ignominious. 
 
 And to remain in ward of officers, 
 
 In thine own house, till all be satisfied. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Why you were better take my life at once ; 
 <You leave me naught to feed me! and> the air 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 691 
 
 You grant me leave to breathe, is but the poison 
 Of a corrupted reputation. Kill me; 
 What matters it? Your mercy is a name 
 For a new rack, wherewith you will torment me 
 The rack of shame and pitiless degradation. 
 A rogue ! a felon ! 
 
 (FEBRO is led out.} 
 
 PALM. 
 
 <Poor wretch! I ll think of thee- 
 I have a dream and though all seem to speak thee 
 Dotard and knave, it shows me other things 
 But hide them yet. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 May it please your excellency, 
 
 Permit me to depart, and look to Ramon, 
 
 A very unhappy man. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Away! 
 
 (Exit CABARERO.) 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Thou, Pablo, 
 
 We do adjudge to prison, to resolve 
 More fitly of thy fate. 
 
 PAB. 
 
 I claim the royal pardon. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 I ll find if thou hast won it. 
 
 (PABLO is led out.) 
 
692 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 Look to it, officers: this man, Antonio, 
 
 Watch strictly; have him ever in your eyes; 
 
 Give him no passage from the gates. For Pablo, 
 
 Fright him with words of death, and find what secrets 
 
 May drop from terror. Watch me Ramon too. 
 
 I have strange fancies, but these hints will serve you. 
 
 Mendoza, have thine eye upon Baptista; 
 
 What misery may come to him thou know st; 
 
 Let him not want, nor let his children suffer. 
 
 What cost soever thou art at to help them, 
 
 I will requite thee; look to them tonight; 
 
 Tomorrow come to me again; I have 
 
 A thought to hold discourse on but not now. > 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 < SCENE II. The street before the Palace. (Enter 
 CABARERO and RAMON.) 
 
 RAM. 
 
 The Viceroy has given him his life? Well, I am glad 
 of that. Else should I have confessed all. His 
 freedom too! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Ay, I tell thee, his life and freedom, all which is 
 contrary to law. Such a fraud is a matter for 
 hanging. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 And thou thought st, when thou persuadest me to 
 witness against him, that he should die! 
 
 CAB. 
 
 By my faith, no: I knew his life was in no danger. 
 I told thee the Viceroy was too much his friend. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 693 
 
 RAM. 
 
 He will come to want, Antonio! We will send him 
 money. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Slife, this is superfluous and full of risk. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 I tell thee, he shall have money and relief, though it 
 bring me to the gallows. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Wilt thou be wise? 
 
 RAM. 
 
 He was coming to me with pardon! With money to 
 relieve me! and with that money did I witness 
 him to destruction. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Foh! thou said st not a word. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Hah! that s true: no man can accuse me I said no 
 thing against him. But my silence my silence 
 damned him, and it damns me. There is no 
 fiend like to me. Witness against my father! 
 Kill my father! Cain killed his brother, and 
 his forehead was marked with the finger of God. 
 I I What is justice? / have no mark, who 
 have killed my father ! 
 
 CAB. 
 Faith, not a jot there is no mark about thee. 
 
694 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Thou liest, it is here, my soul is sealed with horror 
 black, black, the leprosy of an Ethiop the 
 gangrene of a demon all darkness darkness of 
 horror. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Why, thou madman, wilt thou betray thyself? Think 
 of Juana. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Have I not bought her, even with my soul s perdition? 
 How shall I look her in the face ? 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Hark ee ! I am tired of thy whining. If thou wilt be a 
 man, I am thy friend still ; if thou wilt endanger 
 thyself, and me too, by thy puling, boyish fright, 
 I [will leave thee to manage thine own affairs. 
 By my faith, I will. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Desert me not, or I have lost Juana. Give me thy 
 advice ; I will follow thy bidding. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 Let us depart. Thy father is coming. They are 
 turning him from the palace. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Horror! I cannot look on him. Away! away! 
 
 (Exeunt.) > 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 695 
 
 SCENE III. A room in FEBRO S house. (Enter 
 FRANCISCO and LEONOR.) 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Ask me not a word, not now, not now, I will tell 
 thee anon. Our father is alive, I tell thee, 
 alive and well: Is not that enough? It will 
 break her heart, Is not that enough? At the 
 palace, I tell thee, sister. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 I am glad of that. He is safe with the Viceroy. And 
 the robbers, Francisco ? 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Yes, yes! heaven will discover them. The robbers! 
 the robbers! Sister, you have done wrong to 
 entertain a lover in secret. My father accuses 
 him of the robbery. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Him! brother! Rolando! what, Rolando! Oh, he was 
 with me. He is a gentleman. My father does 
 him a great wrong. 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 It may be so. Heaven protect thee. Receive him no 
 more. Tarry here; I will to the vault a moment, 
 I will be near thee. 
 
 (Exit FRANCISCO.) 
 (Enter FERNANDO.) 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Oh, Rolando, Rolando, my brother, my father 
 
696 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Peace, Leonor, I overheard thy brother. Dost thou 
 think me a robber? 
 
 LEON. 
 
 What, thou? You must forgive my poor father. 
 This robbery has perplexed him sorely. But 
 what disturbs thee ? Thou art very pale, Rolando ! 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Listen : this moment is the last I can look upon thee 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Rolando ! 
 
 FERN. 
 
 If thou wilt fly with me, I will give up my father 
 my hopes my station everything, for thee; 
 if thou wilt not, I can never look upon thee more. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 You are jesting with me, Rolando! Oh, I can never 
 leave my father. 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Heaven bless thee, Farewell. 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Rolando ! 
 
 FERN. 
 
 We must forget one another I could tell thee a reason 
 but thou wilt hear it from others. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 697 
 
 LEON. 
 
 O, my father! my father! 
 
 FERN. 
 
 I will love thee better, and forever Thou shalt be 
 happier too. Thou fliest from misery. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 (Re-enter FRANCISCO, with a Rosary.) 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 This is enough to sear mine eyes forever, 
 And turn my heart to ashes. Wretched brother! 
 Thrice wretched father! Leonor, ho! Leonor! 
 Sister! Sister! Gone! oh, vanished! Heaven, 
 Thou art awroth with us! What, sister! sister! 
 
 (Exit.)> 
 
 SCENE IV. The street before MENDOZA S house. 
 (Enter JUANA and RAMON.) 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Prosperity, wealth, happiness! They come too 
 
 late. 
 
 Oh, Ramon, Ramon! talk st thou thus to me? 
 Witness against thy father! say no more 
 Of happy fortune; but disprove this tale, 
 That racks my heart with horror. Happy indeed ! 
 Thou art awroth with us! What, disprove it: 
 Witness against thy father! Didst thou, Ramon! 
 Say no, and make me happy. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 They deceived thee 
 I spake no word against him, not a word, 
 No man can charge me that. 
 
698 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 No, not a word ! 
 They charge not that. But thou wert there against 
 
 him! 
 Thy presence was enough ! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Reproach no more: 
 I chose not to be with his enemies 
 They dragged me with them. Speak of this no more. 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Of this forever, till thou clear up all ! 
 
 Ramon, thou know st me not. Be thou the man 
 
 My heart has pictured thee, oppressed but worthy, 
 
 Sore tempted, but with yet a noble spirit, 
 
 That thrones its nakedness on a rock of honor; 
 
 And poor and wretched though thou be, deserted, 
 
 Contemned and hated nay, by all men cursed 
 
 Still do I rest thy friend and advocate 
 
 Thy more than friend, thy loving wife forever ! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 I am what thou behold st thy long betrothed, 
 Once faith-preserved, and ever faithful Ramon 
 One and the same. 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Ah, no, no more the same 
 Thy father, Ramon! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Who, for thy love, have borne 
 Sorrow and wrath, and dreamed they were not ills, 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 699 
 
 Locked hands with shame, and deemed me undefiled, 
 Councilled with villainy, and thought it virtue, 
 Because it pointed out a path to thee. 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 A word 
 
 And I have done with thee. Then for what fate 
 Heaven has in store, the altar or the grave 
 I shall not care. This do they charge thee, Ramon 
 Thy father was accused by noted knaves 
 His son no, no his son did not accuse him; 
 But when adjured (thou tremblest !) When adjured 
 By the poor father, yea, besought, to speak 
 Against the charge which he did know was false, 
 Condemned his father with accusing looks 
 With a dumb lip assented, and with that silence 
 Sealed him to shame and death ! 
 
 I did all this for thee. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 What could I more ? 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 For me! for me! 
 
 Thou might st have stabbed thy brother in the dark, 
 Bartered thy sister for a villain s gold, 
 Done anything unnatural and base, 
 And told me, twas for me ! for me ! for me ! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Thou art unjust. In this is grief enough, 
 Without thy keen reproaches. What could I more? 
 I held my peace. Wouldst thou have had me charge 
 him? 
 
700 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Didst thou then know him guilty? Speak me that. 
 
 Upon thy soul s eternal welfare speak, 
 
 Speak me the truth. What, dost thou know him 
 
 guilty ? 
 Know him a felon ? 
 
 RAM. 
 
 This is then thy fear : 
 Thou scorn st the felon s son? 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Hah! if I do? 
 What, trap him to t? Wo s me! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Juana, time will show 
 Who is the guilty wretch 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Oh, Time will show! 
 Give it not up to time ! By all the grief 
 That stains thy sire s gray hairs by all the pure 
 And solemn magic round thy mother s grave, 
 I charge thee speak the truth. Thou dost not think 
 Thy father s guilty? 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Nay, Juana! 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Speak, 
 
 Or never speak me more. Tremble not speak 
 Thou dost not think him guilty? 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 701 
 
 RAM. 
 
 No, no, 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Wretch ! 
 
 Thy lips were dumb, and thou didst know him inno 
 cent! 
 
 You heard him slandered, and stood silent by ! 
 You saw him perish, and held back the truth 
 That would have saved him ! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Is it come to this? 
 Is this the guerdon to reward my love? 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Love! Did I love thee! What, this spirit, that, in 
 
 A case of flesh, was all of adamant 
 
 A disguised devil ! Is it come to this ? 
 
 Thou say st that well. For now I know thee well, 
 
 And hate thee yes, abhor thee! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Still unjust, 
 Thou kill st me for my faith. 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Now do I know 
 
 They spoke the truth, who called thee base and vile 
 This fiendish act is warranty enough 
 For any depth of lowness. Oh, how fallen 
 Thou art now, Ramon! A year, a month ago! 
 
702 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 But that no more. I could have died for thee, 
 Hadst thou held fast to thine integrity 
 Now though it break my heart, I cast thee from me 
 Forever, forever I ll never see thee more. 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Thou mak st me mad. The wrongs that I have done 
 
 I did for thee. I had no other hope, 
 
 No other way to win thee. Dost thou leave me ? 
 
 Then I am lost, and nothing left with me 
 
 But the sharp goadings of a vain repentance. 
 
 False hearted maid ! tis thou hast led me on 
 
 Into this gulf of crime : What but a hope 
 
 To win thee, could have made me what I am 
 
 A thief and parricide ! 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Oh, heaven, that opest 
 
 Mine eyes upon this horror, still support me 
 A thief! a thief! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 I said not that. 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 A demon 
 
 Blacker than all! Confess thy crime and die. 
 Confess, for all shall know thee! O, away, 
 And perish in the desert, I denounce thee 
 What ho, my father ho! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Juana ! 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 703 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Father! 
 
 Justice! there shall be justice done to all, 
 Justice, I tell thee, monster, though I die 
 Justice, ho, father! 
 
 (Enter MENDOZA RAMON flies.) 
 
 MEN. 
 
 What s the matter, girl? 
 That wretched Ramon ! 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 To the palace, father 
 Quick, lead me to the Viceroy. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Art thou raving ? 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Oh, father, I ve a story for his highness, 
 
 Will make all rave. And let me speak it now, 
 
 While I have strength. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Come in, compose thyself 
 <Thou art disturbed, and know st not what thou 
 
 say st, 
 
 The palace, indeed Thou art fitter for thy couch 
 So wan and ghastly. > 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 The palace, father, the palace! 
 (He leads her in.} 
 
 END OF ACT IV. 
 
ACTV 
 
 SCENE I. A room in FEBRO S house. (Enter 
 SILVANO and FEBRO.) 
 
 FEB. 
 
 A rogue ! a felon ! convicted and condemned ! 
 No wretch upon the street more given to scorn 
 No mine-slave fretting under blows and lashes, 
 Held to more shame. Robbed, and for reparation 
 Despoiled of all even of my children s bread 
 And a good honest name too. Well, indeed, 
 Heaven looks upon the sparrow s unfledged brood, 
 When murderers kill the dam And Ramon too ! 
 Well, I ve two children yet; < where is Francisco? 
 And Leonor? my children ?> It is true, 
 Their sire brings shame upon them But I think 
 They will not turn upon me Dost thou hear me ? 
 Where is Francisco ? 
 
 The house is empty. 
 
 SIL. 
 Oh, alas, dear master, 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Ah! 
 704 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 705 
 
 SIL. 
 
 The doors all open 
 No living creatures present but ourselves. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 < My children, I tell thee ! 
 
 SIL. 
 
 Master ! > 
 
 FEB. 
 
 O, blest heaven, 
 
 Strike me to death, for I am desperate 
 My children leave me : Turn my heart to earth, 
 Ere I do curse them ! 
 
 SIL. 
 
 I think, I hope 
 My mistress now is with Mendoza s daughter. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Why, so she is ! I should have thought of that 
 
 I dare be sworn she is Francisco too 
 
 Where should he be, but with his sister? Go 
 
 Fetch them to me. And tell them not to fear 
 
 I ll weigh upon them long this wrong will end 
 
 Ere many days, and then men will forget 
 
 To charge them with the shame of their dead father. 
 
 SIL. 
 
 Francisco, sir! 
 
 (Enter FRANCISCO.) 
 
 45 
 
706 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 My daughter, boy, my Leonor 
 Where did you leave your sister ? 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 <O, dear father, 
 You ll curse me when I tell you! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Fled, boy, fled! 
 Ha! ha! eloped! dishonoured! 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Father, dear father 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Drugged to the bottom! No gall and venom now, 
 But I must drink them ! With a villain fled ! 
 From shame to deeper shame And in mine hour 
 Of misery too ! Oh, curse her ! curse her ! 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Father- 
 Be not so rash she may be yet recovered 
 
 FEB. 
 I gave her to thy charge ! > 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Oh, dear my father, 
 
 I left her but an instant but an instant 
 Looked through the vault and in that instant she 
 Was stolen away Father, I followed her 
 Saw her, at distance, with the ravisher 
 He bore her to the palace. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 707 
 
 FEB. 
 
 To the palace ! 
 
 A ruffian of the guard a Spanish ruffian 
 Shall steal my child, and have the Court s protection 
 I ll have her back though the proud viceroy s self 
 Should bar against me with his villains all 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Father, I followed to the door the guards 
 Denied me entrance, though I prayed it of them 
 Struck me back with their staves, and with rude voices 
 Taunted and menaced me . 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Why back again! 
 
 Thou wert the felon s son that was the reason 
 They jeered thee with thine infamy Thou seest ! 
 Tis infamy to bear the name of Febro. 
 Struck thee back with their staves! because thou 
 
 sought st 
 
 To save thy sister! They shall strike me too 
 The blows that bruise the body are not much, 
 When that the heart is crushed Come thou with me 
 A felon though I be, I will have entrance 
 Though infamous and lost, I will have justice. 
 
 (Exeunt.) 
 
 SCENE II. A room in the Palace. (PALMERA and 
 others discovered.) 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Frighted with death, and will not make confession? 
 I know not why all circumstances bring 
 
708 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 New confirmation of the broker s guilt, 
 And yet, within my breast, some gentle spirit 
 Whispers me doubt, and plays the advocate. 
 That Pablo leave not yet Hark to me, officer; 
 Carry him to the rack, but harm him not 
 < Place him before the engine, let his fancy 
 Work on its terrors, till it paints his joints 
 Crackling and sundering, his sinews bursting, 
 His strong bones crashing in the ordeal 
 Nay, for an instant bind him to the wheel, > 
 Make him believe that ye will torture him, 
 (Yet torture not, ye shall not harm a hair ) 
 Thus far put on the executioner, 
 <And, in his terror, if no words of guilt 
 Burst from his lips, my conscience doubts no more, 
 And the poor mad old man is lost forever. > 
 
 (Exit OFFICER.) 
 
 FEBRO. (Within.) 
 
 I will have entrance! Villains, stand aside! 
 I ll see the Viceroy, and I ll have my daughter! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 What now! the broker! At this midnight hour, 
 Madding before the palace ! 
 
 (Re-enter OFFICER.) 
 
 OFF. 
 
 Please, your excellency, 
 
 Febro is struggling with the guards for entrance, 
 He will not be driven back, he calls your highness, 
 And raves about his daughter. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 709 
 
 PALM. 
 
 He is distracted: 
 Let him come in Poor wretch, I pity him. 
 
 (Enter FEBRO, FRANCISCO, and SILVANO.) 
 
 <What now, old man? What is the matter with 
 thee?> 
 
 FEB. 
 
 You bar your doors against me, and you put 
 
 Armed rogues therein to thrust me back with staves, 
 
 And keep my daughter from me. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 What would you, Febro? 
 My doors are shut against the ignominious. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Ay, ignominious! But I ll have my child 
 <I ll have my daughter; fetch her to me straight, > 
 Were you a crowned king, I ll have her! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Now 
 
 What fiend hath seized thee, Febro? If thy child 
 Have fled from thee, heaven pity thy gray hairs, 
 Why shouldst thou seek her here? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Why, she is here! 
 
 Your rogue has stolen her; you know that well 
 And you protect him. <Oh, heaven visit you 
 With pangs and misery. > Give me back my child 
 Give me my daughter, and I will forgive you 
 The other mischiefs you have done me. 
 
710 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Alas, 
 
 Tis madness fills thee with this fantasy: 
 <How should thy child be here! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Will you not yield her?> 
 I do beseech you, give me back my child 
 My loving Leonor! Oh, now, for pity, 
 
 (He kneels,) 
 
 Be just to me. Look on me, noble sir, 
 You have broke my heart, but give me back my 
 daughter. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Rise up, thou old and miserable man, 
 I pity thee, but know not of thy child. 
 
 FEB. (Arising.) 
 
 I do demand her; keep her, if you dare! 
 What if I be a miserable man, 
 A gray, old, broken, miserable man, 
 A most dishonest and convicted felon, 
 Ashes upon my head, and, in my heart, 
 Anguish that s measureless a man despised, 
 Stained, shunned, shut out from all men s sympathies? 
 I have my rights, and, though so friendless, seek them; 
 I have my rights, and, though so poor, will speak them ; 
 <I have my rights, and, though so weak, will have 
 
 them. > 
 
 I ask my child, and, by my life, I ll have her. 
 I say I ll have her. Some ruffian of your guard 
 Ravished her from me, while you kept me here 
 Rolando 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 711 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Again art thou deceived, 
 I have no villains in my keeping, Febro, 
 And know, of all my household, there is none 
 So named Rolando. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Tis a false name, then, 
 
 The wretch is here he has my daughter too 
 Francisco followed him, and saw him enter, 
 My daughter with him. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Say st thou this, Francisco? 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 I do, my lord; I followed him, and saw him 
 Pass, with my sister, through the private gate 
 
 PALM. 
 
 What ho, my guard! the axeman with his block! 
 Let every man o the court appear before me. 
 Thou shalt have justice, Febro, on the head 
 Of him that wrongs thee. 
 
 (ALL come in.} 
 
 If thou know st the man 
 Point me him out among this multitude, 
 Dishonored though thou be, by all the saints, 
 There is no man so noble, that shall wrong thee, 
 And pay no reckoning to thy miseries. 
 
712 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Hah! no, no, thou art not Rolando No 
 Dost thou not see him, boy ? < Is he not here ? 
 Mine eyes are dimming. > Let the villain speak, 
 If he will straightway give me up my child, 
 I will forgive him; yea and will pursue 
 This thing no further. 
 
 FRAN. 
 Rolando is not here. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Thou seest, thou wert mistaken boy. 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Your highness, no 
 
 I saw them well, Rolando and my sister 
 She turned her face, when I did call to her; 
 Rolando dragged her on. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Are all men here ? 
 This moves me much. Search thou the palace o er. 
 
 (To an OFFICER.) 
 
 Every man s lodge, even to mine own apartments. 
 Let no man stay thee. (Exit OFFICER.) Hath any of 
 
 the guard 
 
 Fled from the palace? The ruffian shall be found; 
 I ll search the city for him. 
 
 (Enter FERNANDO.) 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Hah! 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 713 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Rolando ! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! the rogue ! the villain ! I have him fast ! 
 Give up my child ! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 How ! Febro ! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 This is the man ! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 < My son ! my son ! Down from my seat of pomp, 
 Into the earth of shame; I am as miserable, 
 As wretched now as Febro. Dost thou charge him? 
 What him, Baptista?> This is my son, Fernando! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Thy son? Thy son shall ruin my poor girl, 
 
 And break my heart! Oh, wretch, where is my 
 
 daughter ? 
 
 <Thou didst delude her from me! Ruined, ruined! 
 Howl thou in hell for this ! yes, howl, forever ! > 
 Thou hast stolen the dearest daughter of the earth, 
 And given her up to shame; oh, heaven distract thee, 
 Make thy heart mad, but not thy brain, that thou 
 May st rot within, and have a sense of it! 
 
 <FERN. 
 
 Oh, saints, avert this curse, so undeserved. 
 Most rash old man. > 
 
714 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Didst thou ensnare the girl ? 
 < Oh , wretched boy ! > 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Dear father! Father, pardon! 
 (Kneeling.) 
 
 FEB. 
 
 You hear him? He confesses. <O bitter wretch !> 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Stand up before me as a criminal, 
 What to his chambers! Bring the maiden forth, 
 Old man, thou shalt have justice, though the gift 
 Leave me all childless. 
 
 (Some Officers go out.) 
 
 FERN. 
 
 Father! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Peace, false wretch 
 
 Thy judge no more thy father. (A noise.) More 
 woes to mad us ! 
 
 (Cries of " Febro is innocent! ") 
 What cry is this? 
 
 (RAMON and CABARERO are brought in, and JUANA and 
 MENDOZA.) 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Justice, your excellency! 
 
 Justice for Febro ! Villains have entrapped him ! 
 False witnesses have sworn his life away, 
 And there thou seest the falsest! 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 715 
 
 FEB. 
 
 <Oh, the villain! 
 Give me my daughter, and then judge the rogues. > 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Speak, maiden, speak if heaven have left me now 
 One satisfaction greater than the grave, 
 T will be to right this wronged man. Which is he 
 Thou call st the falsest witness? 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Look tis Ramon 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Ramon, my son ! 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 He did confess to me, 
 He knew his father innocent. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Oho, you hear! 
 I knew my boy would right me. 
 
 (Going toward RAMON.) 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Hence, stand back, 
 
 Touch not corruption look on him no more. 
 I do denounce him to your excellency, 
 As one conspiring gainst his father s life. 
 
 PALM. 
 Oh, most unnatural 
 
7i6 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Hearken not to her 
 My Ramon ne er conspired against me. 
 
 JUAN. 
 
 Hear me. 
 
 He was my betrothed spouse, and well I loved him: 
 
 I give him up to justice, and accuse him, 
 
 Even on his own admission, that he is 
 
 I live to say t a false witness and a robber ! 
 
 <PALM. 
 
 Can this be so?> 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Oh, thou unnatural girl ! 
 Hearken no more, your highness she belies him. 
 
 (Re-enter IST OFFICER.) 
 Ramon is wronged, and very innocent. 
 
 IST OFF. 
 
 Please, your excellency, 
 
 Pablo, in terror of the rack, confesses, 
 
 FEB. 
 Pablo s the rogue and robber. 
 
 IST OFF. 
 
 He confesses 
 Himself participant in the robbery 
 
 CAB. 
 
 He lies, base knave ! 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 717 
 
 IST OFF. 
 
 And charges, with his oath, 
 This man, Antonio, and the broker s son 
 Ramon, to be his principals. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Just heaven! 
 And I have wronged thee, Febro? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Pablo s a rogue! 
 <What, Ramon? Ramon rob me? Ramon, my 
 
 son ! > 
 
 I warn your highness, Pablo is a rogue, 
 Not to be trusted. 
 
 CAB. 
 
 An atrocious rogue 
 
 A rogue foresworn and moved to this invention 
 By terror of the wheel. 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Brother, confess 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Away 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Confess, and save thy father s life 
 Repair the wrongs which thou hast done him. 
 
 What dost thou mean ? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Sirrah, 
 
7i8 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 What, not a word? Oh, heaven, 
 Look down with pity on my father now ! 
 Oh, noiv, your highness, spare my brother s life, 
 For he is guilty of the robbery. 
 
 <CAB. 
 
 <Hark to the cub! next he accuses me. > 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Why, thou base boy, dost thou accuse thy brother? 
 Thy brother, wretch ? 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Father, I do; forgive me. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I curse thee, devil ! 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Oh, curse me not, my father 
 I charge him to save thee Hear me, my father 
 Thou know st this rosary 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Tis Ramon s ay 
 
 It was his mother s, and to keep her ever 
 Before his eyes his pure and holy mother 
 With mine own hands I hung it round his neck, 
 To be the talisman of his memory. 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Father, this found I in the vault. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 719 
 
 FEB. 
 
 The vault! 
 Ramon ! my son ! My Ramon ! 
 
 RAM. 
 
 Guilty! guilty! 
 
 Give me to death for I have killed my father ! 
 I am the robber and the parricide 
 The doomed and lost the lost oh, lost forever! 
 
 (Rushes out.) 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Secure young Ramon : This vile Antonio too 
 
 This devil-born destroyer of men s sons : 
 
 I ll make him an example. Look to them 
 
 Have them in waiting. 
 
 (CABARERO is taken out. MENDOZA goes with them.) 
 
 Fy, how now, Baptista? 
 
 We have done thee wrong? 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Well, boy, we will go home 
 Confess and pray Call Leonor! 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 Oh, father! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 His wits are fled oh, fate, these thunderpeals 
 
 So flashing through the heart, have done their work, 
 
 And the mind s temple tumbles into ruin. 
 
 Arouse thee, Febro! Thy wealth shall be restored 
 
 Lucas, the miner, hath his pit recovered, 
 
 And pays thee back a golden recompense. 
 
720 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 FRAN. 
 
 He thinks no more of that. 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Thy daughter, Ferbo! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 I ll have you moan for this ! 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Thou shalt have justice. 
 (LEONOR is brought in.) 
 Behold thy daughter! Thou shalt have justice full. 
 
 FEB. 
 My child ! my child ! 
 
 LEON. 
 
 Dear father! (Kneels.) 
 
 FEB. 
 
 O man of stone! 
 
 Was I not wo enough, but you must steal 
 My seraph from me ? 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Name thou his punishment. 
 
 If it be death, the knave shall die. 
 
 FERN. (Kneeling.) 
 
 Forgive me ! 
 
 I could not speak while Febro seemed a felon; 
 
 Punish me now, since he is innocent. 
 
THE BROKER OF BOGOTA 721 
 
 I stole thy daughter, but I wronged her not ; 
 Sire, I deceived thee, but I am no villain 
 Revoke thy curse: and, father, bless my wife ! 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Is it even so ? thy wife ? 
 
 PALM. 
 
 N aught else is left 
 
 For reparation I the rites acknowledge 
 And as my daughter here do welcome her. 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Thy wife ! thy honored wife ! You do receive her ? 
 Why, now we shall be happy Heaven be thanked! 
 Ha, ha! a noble husband for my daughter! 
 <A virtuous, honorable gentleman !> 
 I ll make thee rich! She s worthy of a king. 
 Happy! happy! (A cry.) 
 
 (Re-enter MENDOZA, with an Officer.) 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Alas, your highness, Ramon 
 
 FEB. 
 
 Hah, Ramon! Oh, thy white and quivering lips 
 Speak a new horror ! 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Pitying his grief, 
 
 And agony of mind, we led him forth 
 On the balcony, where, confessing straight 
 In what dark corner he had hid the gold, 
 O the sudden, with a shriek of desperation, 
 He flung him from the height and 
 4 6 
 
722 DRAMATIC WORKS OF ROBERT BIRD 
 
 PALM. 
 
 Heaven! 
 
 MEN. 
 
 So perished. 
 
 [FEB. 
 God, God, God!] (FEBRO falls.) 
 
 <PALM. 
 
 What, Febro? Hast this last blow cracked thy heart? 
 
 There comes no sin without its sequent wo ; 
 
 No folly but begets its punishment; 
 
 And heaven, that strikes the malefactor down, 
 
 Even with the greater culprits smites the less 
 
 The rigid sire and disobedient son. > 
 
 THE END. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Adventures of Robin Day, The, 
 
 8, 9, 14, 15, 105 
 A merican Monthly Magazine, 
 
 The, 104, 112, 113, 114 
 Appearance, Bird s personal, 
 
 82, 122, 154 
 
 Armitage, Ann, 5 
 Hon. James, 5 
 
 Baltimore Convention, 127, 
 128, 129, 131 
 
 Barr, Rev. Samuel, 5, 6, 16 
 
 Bird, Rev. Frederick M., 105, 
 114, 128, 129, 146 
 
 John, i, 2 
 
 John, III., 3, 5, 6 
 
 Mrs. Mary, 8, 9, 29, 71, 
 
 122, 130, 151, 155 
 
 Robert Montgomery, 
 
 birth, i; parentage, 1-5; 
 childhood, 6-12; school days 
 at New Castle Academy, 13- 
 15, 20, 21 ; in Philadelphia, 
 19, 20; at Germantown 
 Academy, 21-23; at Univer 
 sity of Pennsylvania, 23-27; 
 medical practice, 28 ; literary 
 apprenticeship, 32-35; Pelo- 
 pidas, 37, 38; The Gladiator, 
 38-49; meets Forrest, 39; 
 Oralloossa, 53-55 ; travels 
 with Forrest, 55-57; The 
 Broker of Bogota, 57-60; 
 rewrites Metamora, 60, 61; 
 The Gladiator in England, 
 61-65 1 personal and financial 
 relations with Forrest, 68- 
 71 ; Bird s sources, aims, and 
 methods of workmanship, 
 
 71-75; Calavar, 77-82; in 
 England, 82-86; The Infidel, 
 86-90; Hawks of Hawk Hol 
 low, 90-91; Sheppard Lee, 
 93-96; Nick of the Woods, 
 96-98; Magazines, 98-104; 
 Peter Pilgrim, 104, 105; 
 Adventures of Robin Day, 
 105; income from novels, 
 1 06; English editions, 106- 
 107; marriage, 108-110; 
 farming, 115-119; teaching, 
 123-125; politics, 125-129; 
 journalism, I33~i43> 144. 
 150, 151; death, 151-153: 
 rank as man of letters, 153- 
 
 159 
 
 Thomas, 2, 3 
 
 Thomas Jefferson, 32 
 
 & Riddle, 6 
 
 Black, Dr., 23, 24, 26, 27 
 Boker, George H., 39, 147-150 
 Brewer, John M., 21, 22 
 Broker of Bogota, The, 57-60, 
 
 126, 146, 156, 157, 577-722 
 Brown, Brockden, 156 
 Bryant, William Cullen, 37 
 Bulwer, Sir Edward Lytton, 
 
 84, 85, 86 
 Burton, William E., 119, 120, 
 
 121 
 
 Cabin Cave, 115-119, 121, 122 
 
 Calavar, 77-82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 
 
 155. 1 66 
 Caridorf, 26, 35 
 
 City Looking Glass, The, 33, 35 
 Clark, L. Gaylord, 99, 131 
 Clark, W. Gaylord, 99 
 
 723 
 
724 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Clarke, Thomas Cottrel, 99, 
 
 in 
 
 Clay, Henry, 127, 135, 136 
 Clayton, John M., 125, 127, 
 
 128, 131, 133, 137, 143, 145, 
 
 146, 152 
 Conrad, Judge R. T., 119, 120, 
 
 134, 135, 136 
 Cooper, James P., 29, 77, 97, 
 
 98, 158 
 Copyright, International, 101- 
 
 104 
 Cowled Lover, The, 26, 35 
 
 Death, 151-153 
 Death of Meleager, The, 26 
 Downing, Robert, 154 
 Dramatic Author s Bill, 
 
 147- 
 
 150 
 
 Dramatization of novels, 107 
 Dunlap, William, 31, 32 
 Durang, Charles, 44 
 
 Elizabethan Drama, Bird on, 
 
 25,26 
 
 Emerson, R. W., 30 
 Empson, Cornelius, 2 
 English Editions of Bird, 106, 
 
 107, 155 
 Episcopalian Church, The, 19 
 
 Fanatick, The, 34 
 
 Farming, 115-119, 121, 122 
 
 Forrest, Edwin, 36-40, 41-49, 
 53-55, 61-65, 65-68, 68-71, 
 119, 120, 131, 145, 146, 154, 
 156, 158 
 
 French and Indian War, 4 
 
 Friendships, 130, 131 
 
 Frost, John, 120, 121, 131, 132 
 
 Germantown Academy, The, 
 
 21, 22, 23, 123 
 
 Gladiator, The, 38-41, 41-44, 
 44-49, 51, 52, 61-65, 65-68, 
 72, 120, 126, 146, 156, 157, 
 297-440 
 
 Giannone, 34 
 
 Godey s Lady s Book, 99 
 
 Graham, George R., 119, 133, 
 
 134, 135, T 36, 137, 138, 14 
 Grimes, John, 26, 92, 93, 105 
 
 Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 37 
 Hawks of Hawk Hollow, The, 
 
 90-91, 106 
 Hoffman, Charles Fenno, 99, 
 
 III, 112 
 
 Home-life, Bird s, 130 
 Howe, Samuel G., 112 
 
 Ice Island, The, 35 
 
 111 health, 113, 114, 144, 150, 
 
 151 
 
 Income from novels, 106 
 Infidel, The, 86-90, 156 
 Ipsico Poe, 105 
 Isidora, 34 
 
 Johnson, Walter R., 21-23, 123 
 Jones, Joseph S., 31 
 Journalism, 133-144 
 
 Knickerbocker Magazine, 86, 
 
 99, 100, 101-104, no 
 King Philip, 34 
 
 Lafayette, General, 7, 9, u 
 Lawson, James, 37, 82, 86-88, 
 
 89, 131 
 
 Leggett, William, 36, 37 
 Lexington, Battle of, 4 
 Lounsbury, Thomas R., 30 
 
 Magazines, Bird and the, 98- 
 
 104, 110-113 
 
 Mammoth Cave, 92, 105, 112 
 Marriage, Bird s, 108 
 Martineau, Harriet, 102-104 
 Matthews, Brander, 29 
 Mayer, family, The, 109-110 
 Dr. Edward R., 61, 151, 
 
 152, 153 
 Misses, 83, 84, 109, no 
 
 - Rev. Philip P., 109, no, 
 132 
 McClellan, Dr. George, 119, 
 
 120, 121, 123, 125, 131, 132, 
 
 146 
 McCullough, John, 154, 158 
 
INDEX 
 
 725 
 
 McKean, Thomas, 4 
 McMichael, Morton, 133, 134, 
 
 J35, 136, 138, 140 
 Medical practice, 28 
 Men of the Hills, 34 
 Metamora, 37, 60-6 1, 70 
 Mexico, Bird s interest in, 55, 
 
 57, 77 
 
 New Amstel, n, 16 
 
 New Castle, i, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10- 
 
 16, 20, 21, 115, 122, 125, 127, 
 138 
 
 New Castle Academy, 3, 13- 
 
 15, 20, 21 
 
 News of the Night, 26 
 
 Nick of the Woods, 27, 96-98, 
 
 147, 154, 155 
 North American, The, 132, 133- 
 
 J 43, 151, 159 
 
 Oralloossa, 53-55, 126, 146, 156, 
 157, 441-576 
 
 Parrish, Dr. Joseph, 24 
 Pelopidas, 37-38, 119, 120, 121, 
 
 126, 157, 171-296 
 Pennypacker, Hon. S. W., 155 
 Pennsylvania Medical College, 
 
 123 
 Philadelphia, 16, 20, 24, 27, 28, 
 
 32, 40, 43, 52, 53, 54, 57, 94, 
 
 108, 109, in, 112, 119, 123, 
 
 !33, 134, J 36, 153 
 Philadelphia Central High 
 
 School, 132 
 Philadelphia Monthly Magazine, 
 
 The, 26, 33 
 
 Poe, Edgar A., 91, 95, 100-101 
 Political Life, Bird s, 125-129 
 Powers, Hiram, 131 
 
 Prescott, W. H., 158 
 Presbyterian Church, The, 7 
 
 Rodney, Miss Emily, 122 
 
 Saul s Last Day, 26 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter, 29, 87, 88, 
 
 91, 101, 158, 159 
 Secret Records, 39-41, 50-52, 
 
 74-75 
 
 Sheppard Lee, 93-96 
 Smithsonian Institution, 126, 
 
 127, 132, 133 
 
 Snowden s Magazine, 23, 76 
 Southern Literary Messenger, 
 
 IOO-IOI, 110 
 
 Spirit of the Reeds, The, 35 
 Stone, John Augustus, 37, 60- 
 61,70 
 
 Teaching, 123-125 
 
 Twas All for the Best, 26, 35 
 
 University of Pennsylvania, 
 23-27, 29, 1 10 
 
 Van Dyke, Dorcas, 8, 9, 108, 
 
 109 
 Hon. Nicholas, 5, 6, 7, 
 
 10, 15, 17-19 
 Van Leuvenigh, Elizabeth, 3, 
 
 5, 6, 16-19 
 Hendrick, 4 
 
 Zachariah, 4, 5 
 Volunteers, The, 34 
 
 Wetmore, Prosper M., 37, 57 
 Whig Party, The, 125, 126, 127, 
 
 128, 129 
 Willis, Nathaniel Parker, 90, 
 
 91 
 
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