PS 635 87925 >OTTER'S FIELD; Copy 1 OR A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. By ARISTOPHANES. When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war." CALIFORNIA EDITION. PRICE, 35 cts. San Francisco: A. L. BANCROFT & COMPANY, Printers, 721 Market Street. 1873. \ POTTER'S FIELD; OR THE 6EITLEIUI WITH THE BLACK HUM A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. By ARISTOPHANES. " When Greek meets Greelc, then conies the tuff of war." CALIFORNIA EDITION. PRICE, 35 cts. San Francisco: A. L. BANCROFT & COMPANY, Printers, 721 Market Street. 1873. <^/vthu&Q rt the tir'd foot is plodding. Strike! strike! strike! Bi ittania's anthem on the anvil ring! On the anvil ring: " Mon dieu et mon droit. Iron's king, Vive le roi." 2-1 potter's field. List, Albion, in attic ten'nient a girl is weeping. H.irk, from thy sceptered tenure the moments are fleeting. Strike! strike! strike! Brittania's anthem on the anvil ring! On the au vil ring : " Mon dieu et mon droit. Iron's king, Vive le roi.' (End of First Act.) ACT II. Scene I. — Parlor of the Fitz Simmon's mansion, London. Appointments " a la millionaire." Fine evening. Dramatis Personoe : Sir Fitz Simmons, confined to his easy chair with the dropsy in his feet, is engaged in a game of domino with Miss Mack. Mincebeck is toasting his feet at the grate. Grospotrine. Lady Fitz Simmons working on embroidery. The children are turning over the leaves of an album. A servant in lively is standing at the side of Sir Fitz Simmons. Wine, cof- fee and sweetmeats on a side table. Grospotkine (pacing the room, a napkin fixed to his breast, and his ha nds loaded with refreshments). Gentlemen may vaunt the virtues of statesmen, of divines, of poets and their ilk, but, in my opinion — this mocha is very fine — in my opinion, the more important personage is the perfect cook. Mincebeck. The culinary artist has undoubtedly his merits, but they are circumscribed by the pots and gridirons of the kitchen. Grospotrine. Circumscribed by the universe. He is a skill- ful physician; a vigilant parson; a talented diplomat; for he ministers to the stomach, and the stomach is (draining his cup) humanity. • Company (in chorus). Oh, Mr. Grospotrine. Grospotrine. I say it, and I am in the habit of saying — this cheese is excellent— of saying what I think. Where we see talents to devise; abilities to execute, we see invariably — a ten- der turkey — we see invariably a good stomach. The stomach is humanity " par excellence," and the cook is prime minister. Lady Fitz Simmons. Admitting — but where is your, human- ity " par excellence " when the treasury is empty? Gros. Aye, truly ; but the stomach makes the treasury. Gentlemen may assume — splendid sandwich— may assume airs of supreme indifference, if they like; but, I would ask, what man was ever known to succeed in any undertaking, until he had first done homage to the stomach. Look not on a difficulty with a concave stomach. The prudent general never hazards a potter's field. 25 battle till he has questioned the commissary. The solicitor for royal clemency will abide his time until the sovereign shall first have done justice to his roast. And, were it not for irreverence, •I would — your pastry cook, Lndy Fitz Simmons, is a Frenchman — I would invert the moral of Dives and Lazarus. Company (in chorus). Oh, Mr. Grospotrine. Mincebeck. A man, sir, is not a stomach. Geos. I beg leave to differ — Mincebeck. Man is not a stomach. Gros. Man is essentially a stomach. In common parlance we say: Such a one is gay or melancholic, active or phlegmatic; but this expresses exactly the state of that person's stomach; and the explanation is purely a secret of one's innerself {turning to the ladies ) . Have nothing to do, ladies, with the dispeptic; shun the hypochoudriac; turn away from the sallow coun- tenance {goes to the side board). Sib Firz Simmons. I perceive, ladies, that (to the domestic, with pain) — my legs, Matthew, my legs. (The domestic applies flannels to Sir John's feet.) — that Mr. Grospotrine is a worthy dis- ciple of Epicurus. Gros. Yes, sir; I admire— chateau lafitte! your gout, Sir John! (drinks) — I admire the man and the philosophy, which the fastidious have been pleased to misunderstand. I pronounce his philosophy religion reduced to good sense. Mincebeck. Ah, good sense. Gros. He says: "Deny yourself nothing that imparts pleas- ure, and use moderately that you may enjoy the more." That's his " sermon on the mount.'" I endorse every word of it. Company (in chorus) . Oh, Mr. Grospotrine. Mincebeck. We must presume that it is to your Epicurean- ism that you owe your robust health, Mr. Grospotrine? Gros. I must conclude that it is to the like of these (waving his hand toward the side table ) . At all events, I don't go much on living on air, and dying on sentiment. (He unfastens the napkin, wipes his mouth, brushes away crumbs, and walks the room with his hands locked behind him.) By your leave, ladies (lights a cigar and smokes) . Sir Fitz Simmons. Mr. Grospotrine is a firm believer in the solid realities of life. In that belief he has many a fellow. The spirit of the age favors that view. Mince. This last enunciation of Sir John is open to criticism. The age leans toward the spiritual. Is it not evident that mod- ern arts, and sciences, and creeds, and civlizations tend more and more toward the refined in texture, the delicate in taste, the intellectual in perception? Gentlemen assert that the age is materialistic. The assertion stands on nothing. Lady Fitz. People have long ceased to court martyrdom — (Sir John, in agony) — for an opinion or an idea. 2 26 potter's field. Mince. Men live at this day who will court more than mar- tyrdom, purely to feed a spleen and wreak it on others. Miss Mack. I am not a babe on this sublunar sphere ; but I must say that I have not yet met the man that would die for an' idea. Lady Fitz. It were a bad idea. Geos. A stupid idea. Mince. I have not seen as many lunar revolutions as Miss Mack— Miss Mack (interrupting). Yes, you have; yes, you have; you might be father to my grandmother, Mr. Mincebeck. Mince. Yet I have seen people die for what others would think of them after they were dead ; and what is this but an idea? Lady Fitz. The idea of a moneyless man. Gros. Of a harmless idiot. Mince (excited). Man is an idea. Gkos. Man is a stomach. Mince (more excited). I say he is an idea. Gkos. And I say he is a stomach. Company (in chorus). Question! question! Miss Mack. Those who favor man, an idea, will make it man- ifest by the usual sign of the order. Company (in chorus.) I! (Expression of pleasure from 3Fince.) Miss Mack. Those \vh > favor man, a stomach, will likewise make it manifest. Company (very loud). I! I! I! Miss Mack. The stomach has it. Grospotkine (feeling complimented). Ladies, dear ladies ! I have always felt the tender passion for the ladies. (Kears the ladies). I will decipher an hieroglyphic. I shall expound a mystery. I will utter an oracle. If you would be sought of the lords of creation (sensation from Miss Mack) ; if you would be honored in the person of your husbands (sensation from Lady F.) — cultivate the stomach. When your husband comes home to you from the race, the club, or the counting-room ; his face radiant with love, and he folds you in his arms, and presses his lips to yours (ladies feel entertained), don't say to him, "Now, my dear, don't be silly ; " my dear, be proper ;" " my dear, be in- tellectual." Or, again, " I have the sick headache (groans from Sir John, and altercation with the domestic) ; or; " Neuralgia in the face ; " or, a " Stitch in the side." All of these tribulations are of no tact, ill-timed, mal apropos, and indicate that the stomach is terribly out of order, and domestic felicity soon to be out of sorts. Company (in chorus). Capital! capital. Mince. Not so capital. Not capital at all. Ladies and gen- tlemen forget that woman has a head.' I take exception to the gentleman's presumptuous discourse. I repeat, woman has a head. potter's field. 27 Sir Fitz Simmons. Woman has a heart. . Gkos. When she possesses a stomach, Sir John. Miss Mack. Contradictions are ill-bred, Mr. Orospotrine. Gkos. I mean no discourtesy, but I have a right to a differ- ence in opinion. And, I must say, that where we see one ugly, unfeminine all-head female hold tenure in a man of parts, we see a score of the fair daughters of Eve cram the apple-core down the sesophagus of twenty sons of Adam. Company. Bravo! Mince (riving). I would observe, and I speak from personal observation, that I have known women, whom on first impres- sion any one would have declared very repulsive, and on closer intimacy were found exceedingly attractive. Their ugliness was so obliterated by the versatility of their conversation that they were pronounced pretty. Miss Mack (feeling complimented) . This is invariably true of every woman that has intellect. Woman's charms lie in her ex- quisite command of language. Gros. [aside;] So of the magpie. [Takes the seat which Mince- beck has vacated. Miss Mack. Nor do her charms stop here- -I do not court praise for my"sex — [rising] Let deeds, not words, speak for us. Here is Lady Fitz Simmons, for instance, stitching away on what? f Mincebeck takes the seat vacated by Miss Mack, and begins a game of domino with Sir John. ] Gros. Blast my wits if I can answer that. Lady Fitz. A smoking cap, sir, for our missionary fair at St. Giles. Will you invest? Gros. On the spot, my lady. I will buy the smoking cap for the king of the Fidjees. It is good for the conscience, that the Malays of the South Sea are capped by the good ladies of St. Giles. fVIiss Mack. Mr. Grospotrine is sarcastic. Mince. All stomach and no soul. Gros. I dote on "ye poor heathen." Lady Fitz. And our indigents of the parish. Gros. Aye, truly, charity should dwell nearer home. Miss Mack. Nor should it end there. Gros. (rising) Hear the wind howl ; hear the rain-drops beat against the shutters. Winter is without, and hunger, and naked- ness. England's poor suffer, madam ; pray take three prices for the bauble. I'll smoke that thing myself. An Englishman is as much a king as his royal highness of the Fidjees. (He goes over to Lady Fitz, counts the money, puts the cap on and resumes his plrtce.) The proceeds destine to your neighbor. Mince, (aside). Cool, 'pon my word. 28 potter's field. Miss Mack (aside). Deliberate impudence. (Aloud.) Your benovelence is easy; you put your baud in your pocket: Prestu,! Quick! and Mr. Grospotriue has done it. As you smoke your cap, and toast your kip on tbe tire grate, woman, sir, is study- ing and devising, and worrying for to comfort, to clotbe, to feed — Mince. Witb spiritual bread and fabrics. Gkos. Tbin clotbes and victuals, tbose. Miss Mack. Tbe bomeless, the naked, tbe hungry. Not con- tent to study, and worry, and devise at home, she wades through floods, plods through the surge of the elements, she gathers — (Hears a commotion withoxd) What is the matter? Company. What is tbe matter? [Mag. entering, while the footman endeavors to keep her back.] Mag. Let me see his face! Let me speak to him! I must speak to him! ( While struggling, she falls to the floor, in a kneel- ing attitude. Then, addressing Sir Fitz Simmons:) Oh, for Hubert's remembrance; for Hubert's babe's dear sake, have pity on me. Lady Fitz (getting over her stupefaction, and -addressing the servant). Dennys, Dennys, how is this? How dare you admit any one in this apartment without first consulting our pleasure? Take the woman oiit! Miss Mack. Take the woman out! [The servant vainly erdeavors to lead Mag. oid.~\ Mag. (to Lady Fitz) . Lady, let me live. If I have in aught offended, my poor babe is innocent. Let me live for "baby." I shall die, and who will care for my darling? Miss Mack. Doesn't the woman belong to any parish? Mag (to Sir Fitz). Oh, father, father, must Hubert come to London, and find bis home the abode of strangers — his wife dead? I am dying. Let mc die here. Lady Fitz. j ni j Can't think of such a thing. Miss Mack, f 0/l0rws - -j Horror! Mag. Let me die where Hubert's dear mother died. Send for baby. Lady Fitz. \ r ,, j You must not think of it. Miss Mack, J ^ norus - j You had better go. Mag. My strength fails. I shall no more bear my babe. Good gentlemen, speak a word for me. Mince. ] f Domino! Domino! Domino! Lady Fitz. ' r ' t} J Brazen impudence! Miss Mack, f lv ? einer - i Shocking effrontery! Gkos. [The poor creature looks cold; she shivers (to Sir John). Fitz Simmons, have her approach to the grate (goes to Mag.) . Draw to the Are and warm you. potteb's field. 29 Miss Mack. Mr. Grospotrine, mind your business, sir, and let other people attend to theirs. Sir Fitz (to Mag. J. Draw nearer, and tell me of Hubert. Mag. (advancing a siep on her knees J . I will, I will; oh, I will. Say that I may live. For Hubert's and "baby's " sake, say that I may live. Drcsilla (near to her father, and crying). Tell her so, pa. Lady Fitz.] f Drusilla, Drusilte, you are a child, i Toaether - 1 m ? dear ' Miss Mack, f { Why can't the woman go out? Mince. [Draw, Sir John, draw! Here they are ! Sir Fitz. Oh, Hubert, my sou, my son! Lady Fitz (crosses over to the invalid, and with much warmth) : Sir John, do be composed; excitement, you know, aggravates your malady. [Miss Mack comes to the aid of Lady Fitz, and they both set to work chafing Ids feet.'] Sir Fitz (in agony). Oh, Hubert, my prodigal; my poor, lost boy! (Ladies rub vigorously.) This is excruciating. (To the ladies.) Gently, ladies; the parts are exceedingly sensitive. (To Mag.) Draw near, and tell me about Hubert. Where is Hubert? Where is my wayward boy? [Lady Fitz springs to her feet, and taking Mag. by the arm, who has now risen from her kneeling attitude. Fitz Simmons crying out at intervals : " My poor wayward boy ! " Lady Fitz (to Mag.) . This will never do; your conduct is in* the highest degree reprehensible. You will be the death of Sir Fitz Simmons. When Hubert threw himself away, and married you, it nearly killed his father; and your conduct to-night will kill him quite. (To Dennys, stupefied.) Why don't you move? (To Mag.) Please do not make a scene, but let the servant lead you out. To-morrow, we shall see what can be done for you. [Mag. moves towards the door, looking steadfastly on the stem features of Lady Fitz.~\ Scene II. — Hall, opening on the street. Foot of the stair- case. Dramatis Personce : Marguerita Fitz Simmons. Domestics of the house. 1st Servant. You swate lady; if that ain't shameful, now. An own son's wife turned away; and such a noight as this. The mither of God have pity on the poor of this worrold ! 30 pottee's field. 2d Serv. Come wid me; do, now, it's warm and comfortable in the kitchen. Mag. (Shivering) . I thank you, I thank you kindly. I am not cold now. I can't stay; "baby" is crying for hs mama. 1st Serv. Don't go yet for jist a minute. (To 2d servant.) Priscilla, you run down to the pantry, and bring up a noice little assortment for the sick lady to take home with her. (Exit 2d servant.) ' Mag. I have no home. I need nothing; thank you for your good heart. 1st Ser*v. And is it no home, you haven't? and where is your baby — in the street? Your mon has left you, of course. Mag. My babe is with Miss James, a friend of mine. Isi Serv. Well, now, why can't yon go to Michael Flanne- gan's to night? You'll find the house in Smithfield. He is a brick-layer hj trade. And you tell him — you are quite tired out; sit down on the stairs, now, {Mag. sits herself at the foot of the stairs) — and you tell Mike and Ann Flannegan, that their cousin it is that sends you, and narry a blessed ha-penny will yor. have to pay. Mind what I tell you; and stay with them till Hol- low-een, and if there is anything to pay, thin it's Bridget Flan- negan that'll pay it. 2nd Serv. (Re-entering with sundry clumsy packages.) Here they are, and I wish they were bigger, and a thousand times as many. This is a package of English breakfast tea — you take care of that, now, (puts the package in Mag's pocket) and don't you breathe a word of it to a soul that lives : We drink that in the kitchen, but a de'il-a-bit do they in the back-parlor. Arrah, ■ these rich people are dre'ful stingy in servants' living— and to treat a poor sick sowl as they did you! — an own son's wife, and the mither of their own grand-child, too. The murrain on 'eiu all. Arrah, an' I would add the dry rot, too. 1st Serv. (to 2d Serv.) Let me talk to the lady, now. (To Mag.) For two-pence you ride the "buss" to within four blocks of Michaels'. (She searches in her pockets.) That spal- peen of a Jamy took the durthy six-pence I had in me pocket. i To 2d Serv.) Ain't you two-pence about you for the lady? (A step is heard on the stairs; strvaiits conceal bundles.) I Enter DrusiUa.] Dnv. A contribution from Mr. Grospotrine for you. I knew you weren't gone. They say I am an importunate beggar. 2d Sebv. (taking the money from Drusilla.) Bless the man, a ten-pound note ! Take care of that, now. [Hands it to Mag., wh-o takes no notice of it.'] Dru. Now, do come to-morrow morning, you know what ma POTTERS FIELD. 31 said. Bring the baby. It is a girl baby, ain't it? I wish ma had a baby. I must hurry back to the parlor. Now be sure and come. Good night. Servants. Aiu't she the cream of girrils! Mag. I must not tarry. {Rises and opens the street door.) I thank you all tor your kind intentions. I will not take these things — to-morrow I shall not-^to-morrow — good bye. (Exit May.) Scene III — Potter's Field. Two body-snatchers digging up a body; one of them invisible, in the fosse, the other visible with- out. Time, midnight. 1st Body-snatchek. Haven't you got on it, Billy? 2d. I have. It ain't worth the match to blow it up. 1st. A lean subject? 2d. Yes, lean; must have looked heavenward a long time. 1st. A female subject, eh? 2d. Yes, a woman — didn't head off London bridge. 1st. The fat subjects are the casualties, Billy! 2d. Tell me something I don't know, will you? — as if I had just opened business. 1st. I like a drowner, Billy. A drowner is ten pounds in the fist. 2d. I say, Tommy, hand me the rope. (Tommy 1st) hands him the rope. ) There's a chain and locket round her neck. Hold down the bull's eye. ( Tommy holds the lantern over the edge and peers downinto the fosse.) 1st. Let a fellow take a squint, will you. (Billy (2d) crawls out of the fosse with the locket in one hand, and the lantern to his mouth. They both creep on all fours a few steps to the front.) 2d (seated 'alaturque') Tommy, ole boy, there's an argu- ment in this 'ere. 1st. (on all fours.) A picture? 2d. The picture of a gentleman of quality and a country lass. Tommy, do you know what's in my head? I Negation from T.) It's in my head that the subject (a toss of the head towards the fosse) is the country lass. 1st. 'Cause? — 2d. Because it ain't quality. 1st. The subject was the chambermaid. 2d. How do you know that? you don't take the newspapers. You'll do only on a jury. 1st. It's only what I think. 2d. You have no right to think. You are morally a juryman. Let me tell it: The subject was then fatter than she is now. 1st. That's what I — 2d. Keep quiet. A fat country lass is appetizing, so is a fat subject. My lord (with a shake of the locket) must have the fat thing. 32 potter's field. 1st. Sensible. That's what — 2d. Silence. My lord's father sends the yonng scapegrace to the Continent, and the country lass (a nod backicard) to Potter's field. 1st. Just what I was going to say. 2d. You're a fool, Tommy. You'll make a juryman. To the subject's resurrection {Billy [_2d] fastens the locket to his oion neck. They both return to the fosse, on all fours, and grab the rope.) 1st. Ready? Hoist away! ( Wlien about to pull up the body he perceives a moving form in the obscurity; then lowering his voice and pointing in the distance.) The night owl is on the lookout! Every rat hunt his hole. ( They sneak away and crouch down behind a mound.'] [ The moving form ( Hubert) is seen with a scrap of paper in one hand and a dark lantern in the other.'] Hubert (solo loq.) Number 5,010. north side. (Comes to a picket and stoops down.) 5,0J0! (Sits himself down on a heap of gravel, and resting head on the palms of his hands, repeats mechan- ically:) 5,010! What is 5,010? — (gathers a handful of earth) a little dust {lets the gravel fall to the around) on the earth. An expired breath — the episode of a tale unwritten. Mag! Mag! Sweet angel of a better destiny! Where is my Marguerite ? Where is she for whom my soul thirtieth ? — here, 5.010 ? (Rises, and, stumbling on a shovel, jncks it up.) Ah, a shovel! a primitive device. The Alpha and Omega of all existences! With this, man buries the promise of the unborn harvest; with this, he buries the harvest of the sickle of time and the promise of a resurrection. (Drops the shovel.) A promise! We die, then, as we live: in promises unfulfilled. The flower born of Nature's smiles expands her petals in promise, and the wind and the rain come tearing on and dash to the earth the hopes she had cherished. Poor, loving, sweet Mag! Cut off from life's promises ere she had lived at all; even as the tender leaf breaks from the withered branch, and, falling to the earth, it is gathered in jut 5,010! (Moves toicard the fosse and perceives the open grave.) What? not closed! — is it possible ? or, does Pot- ter's field yield to Heaven what Heaven claims for its own ? (He- lets himself down into the fosse.) A coffin uncovered! Mag! Mag! Speak, darling ! Speak to Hubert ! It is Hubert ! your own Hubert! he has come back to his pet. Why did he leave her to suffer and to die? [Body-snatchers stirring in their concealment.'] 1st Body-snatcher. I say, Billy, this is getting monotonous. 2d. An escape from Bedlam, Tommy. 1st. Let us snatch the lunatic — are you on it ? pottek's field. 33 2d. Two snatch one! 1st. A good subject, Billy — sound as a new bell. 2d. A diseased wit. 1st. More matter for study. A capital subject. Worth fif- teen pounds. Let us feel the fellow; he might give us trouble. (They advance toward Hubert, who has come out of the fosse .) I say, mister, you interfere with our franchise. Hubert (On the defensive.) Who are you ? 1st. Undertakers. Hubebt. Ha, ha! Give the poor bodies decent burial. The world has warred upon them: they are vanquished: the grave opens to them her hospitable maw. 2d. What are you, anyway ? Hubebt. I am a wanderer. I go north and south, hither and thither. I seek that which has no existence ; I call to that which has no ear; I listen to that which has no voice. Are you chari- table men ? 2d. Indeed we are. We are charitable grave-diggers. Hubert. I love a charitable man. I would go from Cancer to Capricorn to find a charitable man. I would kneel to a charitable man. Let me ask you: how is it that, being chari- table grave-diggers, you leave graves uncovered ? 2d. To give the dead an airing. Physicians recommend it. Hubkbt. [Springing upon him with the agility of a lion.'] Villain, thou liest. Thou robbest the grave. Thou defilest the dead. 2d. [struggling to get free.] Hold- -hold — you — choke me. 1st. [scuffling with Hubert to free his comrade.] Let go of him. Hubert [having both down and strangling them]. Will you spare the dead ? 2d. [strangling.] I — will — I — can't breathe. 1st. [ditto.] Let — go — I choke. Hubert. [Letting them up, but retaining his hold on them.] . I require you to fill this fosse — and henceforth to let the poor dead lie in peace, or — I'll make two subjects for the medical faculty. Both. We'll do it; we'll do it, honor bright. [Hubert Ms them free, and the filling of the fosse commences, Hubert standing at a distance, his arms crossed on his chest, and absorbed in thought.] 1st. [to 2d.] I say, Billy, what gives crazy people muscle? 2d. This chap is possessed of nine devils. 1st. I wonder what connection the dead of Potter's Field are to him? 2d. Lunatics and paupers are first cousins. 1st. I'd like to know by what authority the fellow forbids us this franchise. 2d. That's what I've been studying since my throat is better. Tommy, do you know what's in my head? 1st. An argument. 34 potter's field. 2d. It's in my head the fellow is the young scape-grace. 1st. Here goes the last clod. (To Hubert.) Does rny lord settle the bill ? Hubert (advancing and pointing to the way out). Leave I I They move away and are lost in the obscurity.] Solo loq. Wretches! Wretches? Why wretches these more than others ? These play the part of the maggot — others of the anaconda. These feast on the dead ; others on the living. Poor Mag, devoured by the cold slimy reptile ; and then these vermin — No, this (pointing to the mound) is not Mag. It is 5,010! — (looking in the void) — Now, 'twixt you and me — Anaconda! scaly monster! Venomous beast! Fasten thy fangs in the pulsating heart ; and, still warm with the arterial fluid, tear it out of the human breast, and cast it to the dogs! On what is weak, bear down with thy heavy coils! What is good, and true, and beau- tiful, grind into atoms! If I have tenderness, smother it. If I have tears, choke them down. If e'er my breast heaved for the joys and sorrows of my fellow-creatures— call these things fool- ishness; and, like the relics of the antiquary, leave them undusted and unsought on the shelves of bygone memories.— No, no ; not an- other prayer ; not auother good gift bestowed ; not another smile vouchsafed. — Oh, Destiny inscrutable ! circumscribed by orbits of mighty revolutions, timed by cycles of infinite periods, never more shall I bend on this earth — thy derision — the suppliant knee. Hurl famine, pestilence, and the havoc of war on the inhabitants of this hated planet. Let him that hath wisdom be seized with foolishness. Let him that hath virtue be seized with panic. Let him that hath charity be accursed. Give me to execute the mandate of thine anger. Give me to hear the thunders and the crash of a dissolving^world. Yet shall I not quail ; my frame shall not tremble. — Flesh of the hyena, be thou my meat ! Adders' virus, be thou my drink! Drink and eat for to hate— to hate with all thy soul, with all thy heart, with all thy strength — to hate — to hate the rich ! Scene IV. — Spectacular. In the background, a hideous mon- ster, figurative of Mammon, reposes on the summit of a mount- ain, in the likeness of a pedestal. In a semi-circle, in front and at the base of the mountain are four groups, each group repre- senting by characteristic emblems and costumes one of the four continents. The side scenes represent the vegetation of tho different zones. Dramatis Personce. — Hubert, Fairies, Imps, etc. Incident. A cataract of gold is pouring out of an opening in the mountain. Hubert is represented in a reclining attitude, POTTERS FIELD. &0 and, as it were, drinking at the cataract. He wears the guise of a pilgrim. A walking-stick and a pack are seen near to him. Enter a company of fairies, sprites, etc., holding in their hand sceptres of gold. Dancing, they approach the base of the mountain. Close to the foregoing appear a company of imps, elves, etc., with sceptres of silver. These, likewise, dance as they near the mountain ; in front of the four groups at the base of the mountain the two bands intermingle in the dance. Then with their hands outstretched toward the mountain and the cataract, they sing : {Air, "Rejoice, or Millenium.) Chorus. Sing I, sing all ! the golden flood is pouring ! Sing I, sing all ! to us Pactolus flowing ! First Solo. I could not speak the magic word. Sec. Solo. Nor I reveal the divine hoard. A Fairy {speaking). I cried, " Ye gods help me." An Imp {laughing). Hi, hi, hi ! Fatima ! Fairy (speaking) . Who found the spell ? Imp (speaking) . The cock shall tell. Semi-Chorus (crowing). Co — co — lico — o ! Chorus. Sing I, sing all ! the yellow god is smiling ! Sing I, sing all ! for us riches showering! Fikst Solo. Sister, for once we'll drink our fill, And quench our burning at the rill. Sec. Solo. Be its waters the molten gold, We'll drink and drink a hundred fold. A Fairy (speaking, and poi?iting out Hubert) . I see a pilgrim . An Imp ( laughing). Hi, hi, hi ! His mouth hugs the brim. Fairy (speaking) . Will he fall in and drown ? Imp (speaking). And lose the fool's crown! Semi-Chorus (braying). Hee-haw, hee-haw, hee-haw! Chorus. Sing I, sing all ! the golden sands inspiring ! Sing I, sing all ! great Mammon's fame exulting ! First Solo. The pilgrim has the magic wand. Sec. Solo . He is a prince in all the land. A Fairy ( speaking) . The god has snubbed me ! An Imp (laughing) . Hi, hi, hi ! Sesame! Fairy (speaking) . The pilgrim might take a wife. Imp (speaking). Not he, I'll bet my life. Semi-Chorus (cackling) . Kwang — kwang — kwang ! [ They ascend the side of the mountain, and pick up the prostrate form of Hubert. They set him on a portable platform, and bearing him aloft, march down, one leading and holding the wand.~\ 36 pottek's field. Chorus. Sing I, sing all ! let every tongue rejoicing, Sing I, sing all ! a joyful pasan to our king ! First Solo. Imp, and elf, and greater fry, Behold your king exalted high ; Sec. Solo. Take him again over the sea, And his sceptre shall mighty be. A Fairy (speaking). The pilgrim is sleepy. An Imp (laughing). Hi, hi, hi ! — tipsy! Fairy (speaking). Sleep becomes a prince. Imp (speaking). Drunk with opulence! Semi-Chorus (personating drunkenness) . Hie, hie, hie ! The pilgrim is a brick ! [Chorus march out with Hubert.'] Chorus. Sing I, sing all, the golden flood is pouring I Sing I, sing all ! to us Pactolus flowing ! [End of Second Act.] ACT III. Scene I. — Ocean View, England. A country seat of Sir Fitz Simmons. Time,' ten years after Act II. Dramatis Personal. — Sir and Lady Fitz Simmons. Godfrey (iu a sailor suit) and Drusilla Stoughtenborough. Nellie, the orphan (now a girl of thirteen years.) Grospotrine, a guest. The actors are in an open court in the foreground. In the back- ground is a vista of the ocean. At the right of the court may be seen a part of the Fitz Simmons villa; at the left is an aged oak, against the trunk of which are resting oars, mast and sail, etc. Sir Fitz Simmons, afflicted with the gout, as formerly, is seated in an easy chair on rollers. He scans the horizon with a glass. Lady Fitz S. occupies another chair near him. A domestic stands by Mr. Fitz. Nellie (to Grospotrine.) You shan't have my wreath. Didn't you just say that flowers were a nose medicine ? Grospotrine. 0, yes, for the angels; but such a nose as mine can only be reached through the stomach. Nellie. I wish you wouldn't say stomach again: it is a bad word. Gros. Well, I won't. Give me the wreath. potter's field. 37 Nellie. I'll give you a riddle, and if you can unriddle it, I'll give you — Gros. A kiss. Nellie. Drusilla will give you the kiss. Drusilla. Nellie, now behave. I'll do no such thing, Mr. Grospotrine. Nellie (the riddle.) — " In my tenement, Maggots with me dwell : In my firmament Blooms the daffodil." Godfeey. I know, I know. It's a cabbage. Drusilla. It's a flower. Gros. It's a garden toad. Nellie. Give it up ? Gros. I give it up. Now it's for me to kiss. (Struggles with Nellie mid kisses her. ) Nelllw. You know, grandpa, grandma, aunt Drusilla, and I, and Godfrey, are going to London by the three o'clock train. Well, Drusilla promised me that if I would be a good girl and recite forty verses in St. John— (to Drusilla.) — didn't I say 'em good, Drusilla ? — (mark of asseiit Jrom Drusilla) — she would take me to poor mamma's mausoleum in Norwood, and I have made this wreath for the occasion. Gros. You are an angel. Nellie. Then if I am an angel, why did you tell me I was a little imp a while ago? — you hateful man! (gives Grospotrine a slap.) Sir Fitz Simmons (pxdting away his spy-glass.) Nellie, darling, don't be rude. Nellie. Mr. Grospotrine is a tease, grandpa. (To Grospo- trine.) I'll go away and leave you. I forbid your company to London. (Goes over to Drusilla, and taking her arm, says:) Don't you marry him (Grospotriyie), and if he asks you, you say no. Drusilla. Now, pet, don't act wild. Gros. (coming up slyly from the rear and taking both the girls around the waist.) A conspiracy! Godfrey (to Grospotrine.) How happy would you be with either ? The Girls (breaking away .) Neither! Nellie (to Grospotrine.) O, you have quite ruined my wreath, you have. And I wanted it for — (cries.) Gros. (coaxingly.) Now don't. I'll run to Daisy-lane and in a wink I'll have a parterre of flowers at your feet. Nellie, Very likely! and the train at three. Godfrey. It's but two-thirty. Drusilla. I'll help you make the wreath, dear. Lady Fitz S. And I, too, Nellie. 38 pottee's field. Godfrey. And I, too. Won't you have a hand at it, pa ? Sir Fitz S. 0, certainly. Gros. But I must have a song, first. Nellie. I'll sing when you get back. Gros. No, pay to-day and trust to-morrow. Nellie (sings, holding her broken wreath. Air plaintive.) — ' ' I was a tender flower, Born of a May morning ; But a September flaw Felled me of an evening. " Afar the stricken leaf, (Breaks the flowers, and the leaves fall circling to the ground.) Carried in the whirlwind ; A fairy of the leaves, Saw me in Potter's Field. "Then weep not, tender flower, Again, in the morning, You'll smile upon the flaw That breaks not in the evening." (Pettishly to Grospotrine.) Now run and fetch my flowers. Gros. Very good, very good; I will; but 1 don't like that Potter's Field. 1 can't seethe connection. Potter's Field conveys an odor of Jack Ketch's rope-dancers, garlick-eating paupers and nauseating carrion, which, associated to a "tender flower," quite dispel a pleasant fragrance. Where did you get that Pot- ter's Field ? [Exit Grospotrine.~\ [Godfrey retires to the background with Sir Fitz's spy-glass and looks out to sea."] Nkllie. The angels told it me. What is Potter's Field, grandpa V ' ' Sir Fitz S. A burying-place, Nellie. Nellie. Will I be buried there when I die, and have a wreath on my tomb ? Drusilla. Don't ask such questions, darling, I could almost cry. [ Withdraws to the foot of the oak tree and rests her head against the trunk, ] Lady Fitz S. (to Nellie.) Come with me, my dear. (They retire a little way aside, and in a subdued tone:) Your mamma, through some inexplicable inadvertence, was buried in Potter's Field. This is a family secret, my dear; it must be hushed. potter's field. 39 Nellie (in an ordinary tone.) Is mamma in Potter's Field, grandma ? Lady Fitz S. Hush, hush! Your grandpa and — I — or — rather, your aunt Drusilla, had the body disinterred and placed in the family mausoleum in Norwood Cemetery. Godfrey (from the background.) I say, pa! The steamship "New World," of the Fitz Simmons line, out to sea. Come this way. Splendid sight. Nothing visible but the mast-head. Rides the fog and full steam on! Ah — splendid! splendid! Ah — (going through the manoeuvre of rowing.) "We Oxford boys, alone, can beat that. Come this way, pa! [Sir Fitz, Lady Fitz and domestic retire to the background, where Godfrey and Sir Fitz talk in dumb sliow. ] Nellie (approaching Drusilla.) You look sorrowful, Drusilla. Drusilla. 'Tis good to be sorrowful, Nellie. Sorrow marks the way to heaven. It is sad to die young. She was only nine- teen when she died. I think I see her now, pale, trembling, on her knees, imploring for to live. Nellie. Whom, mamma, Drusilla ? Drusilla. A phantom, dear; a vision. Nellie, charity is beautiful. Better the record of a good deed for a head-stone than the dome of St. Paul's. It is awful not to leave a survivor to declare on your mound: "Here lies a charitable soul." Charity is not magnitude: a word might have saved her, and that word was not spoken. Nellie. Saved whom, Drusilla? Of whom do you speak? Grospotrine (returning with a basket of flowers) . Here they are, and now for the wreath. [ He puts down the basket, and he and the two girls kneel round «.] Nellie (to Gros). I dare say, you will be a great -help ; you don't know a violet from a sunflower. (Impatiently.) Oh, now, Mr. Grospotrine, if you ain't as blind as a bat ! you have fixed a marigold along with white pinks — yellow and white don't har- monize. Gros. Never mind. It's in now. [.A detonation is heard out to sea.~\ Godfrey (excited) . She has struck ! She has struck I Gros. (Jumping to his feet.) A disaster. '[General excitement. Godfrey seizes the oars and runs to the beach. Grospotrine seizes the mast and follows Ann] [Exeunt all. 40 pottee's field. Scene II.- Ocean View. — The Beach, on the morrow of the disaster. The wreck in the distance. Dramatis Personal. — Commodore Fitz Simmons (Hubert), Secretaries to the Commodore, Sailors, Black Servant in livery, Lady Fitz Simmons, Godfrey. Present. — Lady Fitz Simmons, Godfrey, Secretary. Godfrey. I like the Commodore ; he is cool. Think of it, mother, think of it, The ship was broken amidship and settling fast — a clear hypothesis. I say to Grospotrine — I was stroke oar — pull Grospotrine (going through the motion), pull for Oxford and St. George ! By heavens, madam, we did pull. I reach the wreck. I spring over the gunwale. Not a soul on deck. I find the hatchway, and down in the cabin I see a solitary man, his head in a sling, packing his effects. I exclaim, "The ship is going to hell!" "Gone," says he. " Get out for dear life, " says I. "We three shall meet in the devil's paradise," says he. Lady. Fitz. Packing his millions, I dare say. Secretary. His secretaries had charge of his valuables. I had on my person alone papers to the value of forty million sterling — somewhat wet. Lady Fitz. A lovely commodore. Forty millions did you say ? (aside) These Americans are worth considering, (aloud) I perceive the Commodore. (Aside to Godfrey) Introduce me. [Enter the Commodore, borne on a litter by four sailors, several secretaries about him, and, a black servant. Lady Fitz, Godjrey and Secretary go to meet him.'} Godfrey (to Hubert). How now, Commodore? Hubert. Comfortable. Thank you for yesterday's inten- tions. Godfrey. Ah, Commodore, Oxford (going through the drill) pulls a dem good stroke. Permit me to introduce my mother, Lady Fitz Simmons. [ The introduction. ] Lady Fitz. I am so happy to think, Commodore, that my son saved your precious life. Hubert. Not in the least, madam. These chaps (the sailors) had the gig at the larboard gangway, awaiting my orders. Lady Fitz. Ah, I misunderstood my son when he said, "Not a soul on deck." Hubert (All the while very busy writing out and receiving des- patches. Secretaries continually going and coming). Very true. Every soul had been landed. Lady Fitz. Great pity. Fine ship. Heavy loss. potter's field. 41 Hubert. A small affair. A fly-specked chart. A befogged captain. A broken nut-shell. A small affair. Lady Fitz. A very small affair. Godfrey, A nut when the meat is out. Lady Fitz. You are prostrated, Commodore— I hope I am not intrusive — could my son be of any service to you ? Hubert. The tide is going out ; he might whip back the crabs. I have crabs in horror. They move sideways. Lady Fitz. Injuries to the head affect the brain. Hubert. Save seeing double, my head is level. Lady Fitz. Pray excuse the intrusion {about to take leave). Be sure to call at the Fitz Simmons' Villa before you leave Ocean View. Hubert. In thirty minutes a special train carries me to Lon- don, madam. [Exuent Lady Fitz and Godfrey.] Solo loq. Have I murdered a seventh wife that every petti- coat in the land should haunt me ? Can't I breathe a little sun- shine alone? {to attendants) Take me hence. [Exeunt omnes. Scene III.— Same as Scene III, Act. 1. Two apartments, one with cosy appointments, the lodging of Estella, now a ballet-girl. The other, plainly furnished, the lodging of Hubert, the Com- modore. On the wall of Hubert's apartment is to be seen an oil painting, representing a solitary mound. The two rooms are separated from each other by a partition. Time, evening. Dramatis Persona;. — Estella and Hubert — each in his and her apartment. Hubert. Solo loq. Money, at thy shrine a world rampant daily pray. Thy name I invoke to confound whom thou con- siderest — and, with the parasites, be thyself confounded. God- dess of this ill-starred satellite, from thy giddy height descend to vulgar boards, to amble and to jig, like a dancing girl, before a carnal audience. Fickle mistress ! Wooing for very wan- tonness them that loathe thee — yet, will I suffer thy wanton hu- mor ; yea, I will {Estella, hearing a voice in the adjoining room, di'aws near to the door and sits herself there) kiss thy ruby lips ; with the diamond I will adorn thy golden tresses ; I will sport with the scarlet of thy vesture ; and, at the feast where there shall be many, of thy wines I shall test the virtue ; so in the temple of Dagon perished a man with them that sat at meat. Estjllla {pleasantly surprised. Solo loq.) A rehearsal ! A star actor! I am so glad. List ! Hubert {resuming his soliloquy). It seems as if it were yesterday, {looking at the surroundings) that here, in these 42 pottee's field. same imprints, stood the buffeted of varlets, of scullions, of things of no merit, envying the swine his garbage. Oh, thou poor little misery! (addressing the picture on the wall) from that canvas come forth and call me braggart, poltroon, and perjured, if a nerve of me trembles for fear — if a chord vi- brates for compassion. Ah, money! hail to thee money! To the gift of the harlot all hail! (To the picture again) Be thou silent, little corpse ; I will speak; Money is mine, and tongues and power. I outstretch the arm and the mines shut down. . I stamp with the foot, and the fields lie fallow. I give a nod, and the rivers run to the sea and turn never a wheel. I speak, and the heavens and the earth withhold the manna of the millions. Then is heard a wail on the murky air! Then the throes of the slave convulse the earth — These are the Thermopylae to Turk and barbarian — and, (to the picture) little grave, thy Salamis! Woe to the vanquished ! Woe to the idolator! Woe to the fabric of Mammon, when reeling, tottering, and falling low, sinks- in the mire where the builders have left uhhelped an angel of God! (Sits down to a table on which is writing material. ) Estella. (Solo loq.) Splendid! splendid! A star. Yes, a star. But whence cometh a star to Houndsditch ? — to lodgings at a shilling a week! It is a riddle to me. I must learn who it is — what and when'ce he is. How to proceed? I should be dis- creet and proper ; but 1 want to know if a star, unknown to the magi, has, perchance, lit down in Houndsditch. Oh, for a stratagem! A week's wages at Drury Lane for a stratagem! Ah, I have it now. I am a neighbor — in the dark ; the match-safe is lost, and he has a light. [Blows the candle out, and knocks at Hubert's door. She is admitted.'] A thousand apologies, sir. Indeed, I hope I am not — but — a — 1 — thought — as the match- safe can't be found, and as I was in the dark — I thought — Hubert. Here is a light, madam [holding out the candle]. Estella. [7/i her nervousness, extinguishes it.] Oh, dear me! in the dark with a man! how compromising. Hubert. [Strikes a match and lights both candles]. Here is your light ; let it shine in your apartment that men may glorify your prudence. Estella. Thank you, sir. A thousand thanks. [Moves to- ward the door and slops.] I am so awkward. I hope you will excuse my awkwardness. My uncle, who is now dead seven years, used to say, " Estella, you are pretty ; you'll do for Drury Lane ; but you are awkward, my dear ; and when the au- dience calls you before the footlights, don't put them out." Well, I suppose you are busy, and I must go. [Moves toward her apartment, and stops again.] Do you know Dogberry, of Ditry Lane? Hubert. No, nor do I wish to know him. What about Dog- berry ? Est. Why, sir, he is a star. You ought to see him in potter's field. 43 Othello. A splendid impersonation. The management pay him £200 a night. Hubert. A splendid humbug, I'll wager. Esr. (draws nearer to Hubert.) We artistes can't bear to hear of one another's praise. I know it, I know it. I hated Stra- della because she looked so ravishing in the " Temptation." At what theater do you play ? Hubirt. At the Tartarus. Est. I know of no such play-house in London. Hubert. I do. Est. Please excuse my indiscretion, but; — a — {looking at the surroundings) what do they pay you a night there ? Hubert. I play for glory — or, perhaps, to gratify a spleen. Est. Glory is fool's pay. I get ten shillings a week at Drury Lane. Wouldn't they pay you anything ? Hubert. A million, if I would hold my tongue. Est. I'd like a million on terms so easy. Hubert. I'll give you half a crown. I value silence. Est. I thought you said a million. (Observing the writing material on the table. ) Pardon my curiosity; but whenever I see foolscap it reminds me of a friend of long ago — I have forgotten his name — he was forever writing. He was writing " The Poor Man's Paradise," and — what was bad — he wrote himself and family into it. I was a mere child then, but I will never forget how he said to me — in this very room — one day that he looked so pale and cast down: "Estella, never write a book, or, if you must needs do it, write nothing to make people more charitable." Why do you look at me so earnestly? (tihe sits herself on the edge of the cot close to Hubert's seat.) Hubert. 0, nothing. I am not writing a book. Est. What is it, then V Hubert. A play. Est. And pray, what is the play ? Hubert. "The Devil's Paradise." Est. Will you have that out at the Tartarus ? Hubert. I will. Est. (coaxingly .) Give me a part, won't you ? Hubert. Have you a good leg V Est. I am accounted a good figure. You are naughty. Hubert. I shall have legs in the play. I must have good legs. I admire feminine legs. Were I a woman and possessed of natural legs, I'd make the most of them. Modesty gets no credit. Est. Too much continence hath made thee fall out with modesty. Hubert. I knew a woman, once; modest she was, and kept Nature's trust sacredly. She died. They gave her the sepulture of a dog. Est. (tenderly a> id rising.) Alas, Poor soul ! 44 potter's field. Hubert. Alas for modesty! Est. Little do they who require of us concessions to Venus know. what costs the first step. The flush on the cheek pre- ludes the brazen composure with which we expose nightly to ihe gaze of the multitude what Nature destined to love alone. Yet, sir, believe me, we are not quite lost to instincts natural to our sex. In the giddy whirl of the gay's daily life, some trip and fall; and, whilst the strong and the faultless pass on, we stoop over the fallen girl and hide the blush the strong have wrought. Hubert. You are charitable, Estella. The charitable fare roughly iu the nether paradise. Est. Charity covereth a multitude of sins. Hubert. The leg it covereth not. Est. Why will you be so naughty ? You are a hypocrite — a hypocrite that would act a role that hypocrites eschew. These seek the praise of whom they dupe : you, the hatred. I wish I could hate you. I like your looks — what is your name ? Hubert. John — Hubert. Est. Hubert, have you everloved and never known charity ? Hubert. Love is a sorry-Andrew and charity's twin brother. Est. I pity you. Well, I have loved, and loved truly. At my door no gladsome hand had ever rapped; over my threshold no loving face had ever been known to pass. On this side: a tenement under the tiles, landlords, task-masters, and night vigils in the flicker of swaling tallow. On that side: protection, selfish, subtle, perfidious protection. I longed and trusted — for I am a woman, and for that protection gave a heart. I loved, and — [Estella sobs.] Hubert. " Thou canst not say I did it." Est. [after a pause.] Hubert, where did you buy your furni- ture '? Hubert. Houndsditch. Second-hand. Est. A singular taste. Why didn't you get rosewood ? Hubert. 'Tis too common. I like novelty. Est. And pray, where did you unearth that dismal, horrid oil painting ? Hubert. In a curiosity shop. I cultivate the horrid. Est. Well, M — r. Hubert, you are an odd mortal. I don't know what to call you, still less what to make of you. It's time to meet my engagement at Drury Lane. I appear in Othello. I am lady in waiting to Desdemona. Success to "The Devil's Paradise." Goodnight, Hubert, goodnight. Hubert. Take the match-safe with you. [Hands her the safe.] [Exit Estella] potter's field- 45 Scene IV. — Drawing-room of Mr. Bolingbroke, Jesse of Drury Laue Theater. Dramatis Personam. — Bolingbroke ; Martin, Stage Manager; Dogberry, a star actor; Hubert. Present: the first three persons. Bolingbroke. Shakspeare is superanuated. It is alone the prestige of your name, my dear Dogberry, that packs the house. Martin. Dogberry is the very skin of Othello. He is the original Moor of Venice. To speak my sentiments, Dogberry, the dagger is your forte. Bol. The dagger! the dagger for Dogberry! Othello will have a run while there is a Desdemona to stab and a Dogberry to stab her. What do you think, Martin ? Martin. No Dogberry, no Shakspeare ! When we shall have worn out Othello, we have Macbeth; we have Julius Cresar, and then — we have Othello again. [Hubert, introduced.'] Hubert. I wish to see Mr. Bolingbroke of Drury Lane. Bol. 'Tis my privilege to be that personage. Hubert. I have a drama which I would ask you to have the goodness to examine. I would like to have it appear on the boards of Drury Lane. {Offers the MSS. to Bolingbroke, and Dogberry takes it.) Bol. My dear sir, I receive a hundred applications of this character every day. The world of letters teems with dramatic aspirants, and, urdess the applicant come endorsed with an established reputation, I absolutely decline to entertain any proposition he may make. {Eying Hubert with an air oj supreme self-complacency .) What drama have you written for the stage with which the public is already acquainted ? Hubert. None. You would not examine this ? Bol. I had rather not. I want a popularity already estab- lished. Dogberry. What price do you set on this effort ? Hubert. I have not set any price. I have no experience in the drama brokerage. Dogberry {toweling with importance.) I'll give you ten guineas. Hubert. It is the labor of a life. Dogberry. Of an eternity, I dare say. Bol. You might be but too glad to give it away to a Dogberry. Hubert. Not much, (takes back the MS.) Are ten guineas the ordinary price paid by Drury Lane for a drama? Bol. The price is quite arbitrary, and ranges all the way from nothing up to — a good deal more than the production is worth. I think, on the whole, the gentleman has made you a liberal offer. 46 potter's field. Hubert. Perhaps he has ; and, had I intimated a barter, I would thank him. As it is, I thank him not. Bol. I can do nothing with your drama. Please don't in- sist. Hubert. I have not insisted ; nor shall I. Bol. Then, what do you want ? Hubert. I want the theatre. I could easily purchase every brick. I prefer, for the time being, to lease it of the lessee, whom, I believe, you are. For what money, consideration, sir, will you make over to me your right and title to the lease of Drury Lane? Bol. But I am not disposed to entertain a proposal of this kind, unless it comes from a person who has the money, and means business. Hubert. I am that person. Bol. Have you fifty thousand pounds? Hubert. Every morning before breakfast. Bol. On your producing evidence, we'll strike the bargain. Hubert (taking out liis pocket-book) . Make out the transfer, and this check which covers the consideration, will be cashed on your order at Hubert Fitz Simmons, in Lombard street. {Sen- sation.) Bol. The American nabob of Lombard street. ( Whispers a word to Martin, and exit Martin.) Have I the veritable honor! My dear Commodore, allow me the pleasure. (Shakes hands and then introduces) Mr. Dogberry, a gentleman that ranks high in the profession. He is the luminary of Drury Lane. He is cheap at any price. (Sits down to write the transfer. J Hubert (to Dogberry) . I pay down the money, and no ban- tering. I shall be happy to employ talent, come whence it may, and the piice what it may. But, sir, I reserve for myself free- dom of action. If you come up to the standard of my ideal, I shall pay you a compensation never yet attained anywhere by the best talent in your profession : and, the instant you fail, yo\ir services will be no longer required. Dogberry. What, sir, may I understand is your ideal of a first-rate actor? Hubert. One who renders the author's idea perfectly. Dogberry. The drama is my specialty. Character is my ex- cellence. Where the author is but an idea, I am a living em- bodiment. [Re-enters Martin, who whispers to Bol. " All right.' Hubert, (holding out the MS.)) Here is an idea, which ac- cording to your estimates of values, is worth, in perpetuity, ten guineas. I'll pay you ten scores and ten guineas a night if you give this idea a just expression. ( To Bolingbroke. ) Well, sir, are things satisfactory? Bolingbroke. Certainly, Commodore, certainly. Here is potter's field. 47 the document, and the immediate possession of Drnry Lane. [Hands the papers.) Hubert (to Dogberry). We shall anticipate the first repre- sentation with a three months' rehearsal. The rehearsal is paid. You will receive a printed copy of this manuscript this evening. Meet me to-morrow at the theatre. Gentlemen, I wish you good day. [Exit Hubert. Scene V. — Spectacular — "The Inferno." Drury Lane Thea- tre. The rehearsal! Dramatis Persona?. Hubert and Martin on the left. Godfrey and Grospotrine on the right. Throughout the scene, these two persons, in dumb show, make remarks and criticisms. In the centre is seen Dogberry, on a throne, as Satan. Estella, as Cleopatra, and a number of other performers, in various char- acters. Martin. Attention. (To Satan.) Begin. Satan — " Powers and celebrities of a far world ! "In this sphere of darkness and dire despair, "Banish from your heart all apprehensions, " That they who honor me their faults shall rue. ' ' Let no regret, for a past to me gi'en, " Add aught to your woe and the merriment "Of Heaven's favorites. Let them whose sceptres " Survey the amethyst precincts of Sion, "Ennuied of their eternal Sabbath, " Peer through, of this realm, the sulphurous mist, "And descry nought to relieve the tired sense, " Save measures of wrath meted out to those " Who harmed them least. Scenes of ghastly horror " Shock the human sense. To eyes angelic " "i'is gi'en to view the torments of the damned, " With a beatitude self-complacent " Look they : but not on a retribution " Saints so hugely relish. For, to the gates " Of Jerusalem, the holy city, " A wail shall ascend on the wing of night " That shall cleave the unyielding adamant. " For, I, too, in my realms reign sovereign : " And in hell there is a lower abyss : "A chasm filled with misery supreme, " Where I destine, whom, in life militant, " Honor me less. The fiat of Heaven's king " Thus I mock. Thus shall hell inaugurate " A regime, the counterfeit of Heaven's own. "Wherefore should I not, of my leal subjects, 48 potter's field. " Soothe the agonies, and rich gifts bestow? " I, whom fears of a greater fall haunt not, " Shall not outrage common rules of justice " To do the pleasure of our oppressor. " You, that reveled in the world's abundauce, " And of that abundance gave nought away : " You, that mocked Faith, and Hope, and Charity, " And the human heart rendered desolate : " You, who gifts possessed to build Christ's kingdom, " And l-eared hell : Blessed be ye of Satan! "Thrice welcome to my Court! Chorus. — "All hail, Satan! Satan. — " I order, of your homage, th' expression. {Sits on the throne.) Chorus (come up before the throne by squads, and bowing, exclaim:) — "Hail, Satan! Hail, hail! Sovereign of the damned! [O/ionts wheel off in the maze of the ballet. At the close of a pas de deux by Cleopatra Setniramis.'] Satan. — " 'Tis well, 'tis well. Blood chokes my art'ries; •'Paroxysms of rage possess my sense. ( To attendant. ) "Drag hither the unprofitable elf " Mark you: a woman of delicate mould, "Emaciated by long penance and toil, " In whose memory still dwells the features " Of one she loved to look upon, and think " That death would seal to her a glad embrace. Cleopatra. — "August sovereign, at the foot of thy throne "Thy subject this day would plead for mercy. •Satan {to attendant bringing in a woman loaded with chains.) — "Bring her hither to drink the cup of wrath. "And thou (to executioner) brimstone and acid sulphuric " Prepare, to chafe the stripes I shall inflict; " And get thee scorpions, and beasts reptilian "To perforate her heart; and, if her paps " Have given suck, sear them with irons red; "Then to the Dragon in the fiery lake " Cast her. Him let sport with feline instinct, "A prelude, when with fangs jagged and slimj% "He her temples crunch." Martin. Very well; very creditable, Mr. Dogberry. Quite up to your best efforts. But don't you think the effect would be improved if you would put on a stronger emphasis on crunch? potter's field. 49 Satan. — " He her temples ckunch. One of the Chorus. — " She is poor, my lord." Martin. — 'Twon't do. 'Twon't do at all. " She is poor, my lord," won't do. The commiserate, the entreaty, is not pointed. Idem. I never point anything with Mr. Martin! Well, then: "She is poor, my lord." Another. " Of the world's reproach has borne the burden." Martin. A defective articulation. Avoid " burn the burren." Pronounce distinctly: borne the burden. Idem. Borne the burden! Another. — " My lord most gracious, she is a mother; "And in things of her motherhood failed not." Martin {to woman in chains.) For gracious sake, Arabella, avoid that vacant look — as if you wished everybody to know that this business was mere moonshine. Put on an attitude of dis- tress and an imploring countenance. Rattle your chains occa- sionally. Woman in Chains (rattles..) There! will that do ? Another. — "Iu sore trials, abjured the world, the flesh, " And your majesty." Martix. A weak rendition. Put irony on "and— your majesty." Idem. And — your majesty. Satan. — "Ah — ah ! poor, you say!" Martin. I humbly beg pardon, Mr. Dogberry. A very ex- cusable slip on your part — or, perhaps, an oversight of the author's which you would correct. An artist of your originality, Mr. Dogberry, frequently improves the written word. But, not- withstanding, we shall be governed by the text. It is: "Ah — ha!" Satan. — "iZ — a! R — a! poor, you say! "Poor and a mother! A fool absolute! "A dupe to those instincts with which nature "Tricks womanhood. Stubborn exigency, " In a world partly mine, requires mothers " To flee to the mountains t' escape hell 'neath. "A fool! Adjured my majesty, forsooth! "Absurd credentials she brings to my court. " Wherefore presumes she to my lenieucy "With a record so inglorious and mean ? "As she, on earth, so linger she in hell : 50 potter's field. "A thing trodden, whose lot is to suffer. ( To tormentor.) "Tormentor, stand to thy post ! The word, watch. Chokus. — " Unto Satan be honor and glory ! Satan. — "And thou, my Cle, Egypt's fnirest daughter, " In my diadem the most precious gem, "To share this throne of State, I call thee queen. " Caesar, Pompey, Antouiue, (nodding to each) thou gavest me. " Thrice renowned art thou. Welcome to my throne. Cleopatra (ascends to the throne and bowing.) — " May it please your majesty most august : " To bring lustre on your Satanic realm " I have done somewhat. Satan.— "Bewitching lady! Cleopatba. — " Over regions made brilliant by dark deeds "Done above, I would not now cast a gloom. " Woman, my lord, is oft what man makes her : "Unfaithful lovers make the fickle heart. " Oftentimes have I, eminent in sin, " Yearned for the offender of humble cast. "I implore thee, my lord, spare this woman. Martin. I wish, Miss Ferguson, you would confine your at- tention to the stage. Your world does not extend beyond the foot-lights. You have the incorrigible habit of gazing into the orchestra boxes. It is insufferable. Cleo. Well, ain't this a rehearsal? I believe I know what I am doing, Mr. Martin. Satan - "Voluptuous offspring of a sky serene, "Beauteous creature of Africa's sunny clime, " Thy language would doom thee to durance vile, " But beauty calls thee to adorn my court. " I know woman's art, and her subtile sway, " But to her ways invulnerable pro've. " Shall he, who wars 'gainst the Omnipotent, " To feminine whim be a pliant tool? "Tortures refined delight me, (pointing to the woman) she " must writhe. Cleo. — " My lord, love of life in the human breast "Implanted, and to poverty allied, "Imperils above the poor's salvation. "Thus condemned to expiate their trespasses "In a government they have meanly served, " They rue it, indeed. potter's field. 51 Satan.— "The greater fools, they: " Why not serve me more? then, might they, like thee, "Dear girl, reap the reward of sterling worth. " As the just dispense justice, so do I: " He that honors his lord, a recompense "Receives. Non obstante, the soul that sinneth — "Be it by the breadth of spider's web — "Is driven to my gates. — And, happier he! " That sins by the breadth of a hemisphere! Cleo. — "Honored sir, for my sake, this woman spare, " Or, nevermore this sombre realm my smiles " Shall illume. Satan.— "Think not, presumptuous one, "That from the recesses of Tartarus, " Deep 'neath the ash and scoriae of ages, " I cannot disinter a human form " Like thee, fair and beautiful to behold, — "And force a smile? From this throne betake thee! (Cleo. descends from the throne, and takes the zuoman in chains, in her embrace.) "Ingrate! In pain shalt thou rue thy folly! " Incestuous monster! in whose arteries " Courses the venom of the subtle snake, " Learn that in this domain, where I reign king, "The damned quake when I frown. — I give the nod: " They smile. Slave! (addressing the executioner.) The in- struments make ready; " Beckon thy myrmidons (assistants appear) them, (the women,) tear apart. "And ye, ministers of my displeasure! " See well to your work. The sensitive flesh " Cause to quiver. And as the irons red "Sink deep into the wound, your acid pour, " Which, eating its way into the vitals, "Lacerates the most delicate tissues. " Yet shall I be more merciiul than they, " Who, in the planet above, mutilate " The human heart; th' exquisite work of God!" Hubert [interrupting.) Hold! hold! Mr. Dogberry, this is in- tolerable. Your rendition, sir, is a pitiable parody of nature in art. Dogberry {interrupting.) Mr. Simms, I am astonished at your inappreciation. I am an artist of twenty years' experience, and have ever monopolized the plaudits of the intelligent pub- lic. Sir, I— 52 potter's field. Hubert (interrupting.) I have no doubt, that of a certain public, you monopolize the plaudits; but they are not the plaudits of humanity. You are an artist, sir, whom art has made, not nature. You speak that which you think not; — you act that which you feel not. You are not the expression of the heaving and pent-up aspirations of a down-trodden humanity. — You are the servile receiver of 200 £ a night. You — [General sensation.'] Dogberry (coming doum from Satan's throne, excited.) Sir, you insult me. I do not submit to any man's insults. No man ever insulted me with impunity. I have done the utmost that your Devil's pardise will admit of doing. If you have anything unpleasant to say to me, I hope you will consider it professional and sensible to say it privately. Hubert. Sir, I beg you to believe that a man wrought on an anvil like the one on which I have been hammered out, is not a respector of persons; nor is he to be intimidated by any talent rated 200 £ a night. Mr. Dogberry, you are the complete expo- sition of the revered imposture of the day. You are a humbug of the first water. — A quack. {Extraordinary sensation. ) Dogberry (interrupting.) I'll prosecute you for defamation of character. Hubert {resuming.) A quack raised on the wind of dame For- tune's trumpet, and 200 £ a night makes the humbug and spoils the artist, sir. I will go up and down Smithfield; 1 will scour Church Lane; I will probe the Devil's Acre, — and among repro- bates auathemized of society; — among corruptions, whom, liv- ing grovel in the chamel house; among infectious creatures wal- lowing in the ooze of this metropolis, I shall find a man, who, for a crust of bread, will pack this theatre an hour before time; who will command hisses and applause, ecstasy and curses, such as to make even the massive piers of London bridge quake down to the bed-rock, Mr. Dog-berry. (Dogberry having assumed a menacing attitude, makes for Hubert. They clinch. Hubert has Dogberry by the horns. General uproar. ) I End of Third Act.] potter's field. 53 ACT IV. Scene I. — -Hubert Fitz Simmon's private office in Lombard street, London. Doors in a semi-circle, labeled: "Foreign Agencies;" "Banking;" "Manufactures;" " Steam Navigation," etc., etc. The office appointments are in gorgeous style. On the mantle-piece, a statute of Hercules slaying the h\ dra, and another of Laoeoon, devoured by the serpents. Present: Hubert; Andrew Jackson, Hubert's colored servant, Hubert. I say, Andrew, certain beggars are to inquire for me to-day. Admit them. Andrew. I do, sab.. Hub. Sound the alarm for my private secretary. Andrew. Yes, sah. (Strikes and exit.) [Enters Cadwallader, the secretary.] Hub. (to secretary) . You will proceed to realize on all bills re- ceivable, stocks, mortgages. You will arrange preliminaries towards a loan of fifty rrallion pounds from the Bank of England. You will negotiate a credit of another fifty million pounds with the Kothchilds. You will advise my agents at Alexandria, Melbourne, Odessa and the American ports, to forestall all the bread stuffs to ari'ive in market, and await further orders. Secretary. It will be done as you have ordered. (Exit Sec. ) [Eiders Andrew with a squad of beggars, who act like cats in a strange garret.'] Andrew. Here are these indigent pussons, sah. ( Exit Andrew.) Hub. (with a sarcastic smile upon his countenance). Well, my worthy friends, what can you do for me? First Beggar (to second ditto). You spake to him, Dennys. Second Beg. (to first ditto). You spake to him, Jamy. First Beg. That depends a good dale on your lordship's needs. Hub. And on your talent. First Beg. And what does talent mean, sir? Hub. Your abilities. First Beg. And shure enough, me abilities. Me mother, blessed soul, that has now lain in Potter's Field since I am an oi-phan, wished I should be edicated for the holy apostolic church (crosses himself), and the de'il a bit would I git me catechism, and me mither said to me, on her dying bed, sir: " Jemy, you'll be the scape-grace of our family." 54 potter's field. Chohus of Beggars. And indade, sir, it's jist what Jamy has come to, sir. First Beg. I was boren of dacent paple, sir. Me cousin, sir, is mayor of Dublin, sir. Me uncle — Hub. Yes, yes; I see you are of illustrious lineage. Your history would furnish material for the modern drama. But, to the point; what do you do for a livelihood? First Beg. Is it how I get me murphys, you mane? I get im honistly, to be shure. I am a scavinger, sir; I pick houist rags; cast off buttons; owld bottles, with nary drop in 'em; rusty iron, and giniral merchandise. I don't stale like Denuys, sir. Dennys is a thafe, sir. Second Beg. Your lordship, if he means this Denuys, Jamy is a liar. It's meself that's the victim of infimous slander. And didn't a dhurty purlice come to me, one cold morning, in Smith- field? an, he says: " Dennys, come wid me." Shure, thinks I, there's a 'cock-tail for the two of us at Mither Callaghan's— - (jhortts. Begorra, the blackguard, tuke him to her majisty's bastiie, sir. Second Beg. I am an abused man. Chorus. Indade, he is, sir. Second Beg. And now, here is Jamy, jist out of Newgate, and he says to your lordship, " Dennys is a thafe." First Beg. That's a— Hub. Very good, very good; I understand your accomplish- ments, perfectly. {Addressing a third party.) And you, what can you do? Third Bug. Most hauuything, at your lordship's service. Chorus. He is a general utility man. Hub. Have you ever tried the stage? Third Beg. Yes, sir; I played 'Amlet. The ghost was seized with halarm. The manager saw that wouldn't do. I was eiven the part of first grave-digger. I dug out poor Yorick. I 'ave followed digging ever since. Chorus. He is a body-snatcher. Third Beg. Grave digger to the morgue, sir. Hcb. You didn't play Hamlet at Drury Lane, I suppose? Third B'cg. No, sir, I didn't. They can't hengage me there. Chorus. Scrubs play at Drury Lane. Third Beg. (to Hubert). You never seen me in 'Amlet? Hub. I never did. Third Beg. Then your lordship never seen 'Amlet. " To be, or not to be, that is the question; " Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, "The slings and arrows — " Hub. Never mind the rest. That will do. Third Beg. I am just getting worked up. You ain't a drop of gin about here? 'Ollaud 'elps to feel the part. potter's field. 55 First B kg. ) (Jamaica. ) Second Beg. >■ In concert. ' Irish whisky. > Works miracles. Thikd Beg. ) ( 'Olland. ) Hub. And beggary. (Addressing a fourth party.) And yon, my good man, what are your abilities? Third Beg. (interposing). He is drunk, sir. Chorus. Drunkenner 'han the de'il's fiddler. Fourth Beg. Dbont dyou call me dhrunk — hie — I ain't dhruuk — hie — I takth a glath to dhrown dhrouble. Chorus. He puts liquor on it. Fourth Beg. I dhrown dhrouble, your honor — hie. Chorus. He colors his nose. Foubth Beg. Golorth me nozh — hie — no damn foolth biz- nushth. (Stumbles in a chair.) Hub. Trouble! Isn't the unavoidable heavy to steady legs? Fourth Beg. Dhrouble 'evy, sir. Hub. Not another word. (Addressing a fifth party.) And this fellow, what gifts does he boast of? Chorus. That's Lazarus, sir. Fifth Beg. Ah, your lordship, I am a poor man and a crip- ple, but the Lord feeds his lambs. Hub. Does he feed them in green pastures? Chorus. He does, sir. , Fifth Beg. I gets variety. Savory bits at Thompson's chop 'ouse and the " Deer's 'orns." I don't takes to common kitchen fare. Chorus. Private families lives close, sir — no variety, sir. Fifth Beg. Chop 'ouse garbage is the thing. Bits to suit every stomach. Semi-chorus. Fish, flesh and fowl. Semi-chorus. Breakfast, dinner and supper. Fifth Beg. All mixed up like the mortar of Babel. You sorts -out to the taste, and takes your choice. Hub. What return do you make for this invaluable bounty? Fifth Beg. I shows 'em my afflictions. I 'ave a running sore. (Proceeds to uncover it.) Hub. I don't want to see it. Let it alone. Fifth Beg. It's a pitiful affliction, sir. It covers the 'ole twelve ribs on my right side. The doctor says if it is 'ealed, I will die. I wants to live, sir. Chorus. Life is sweet. Fifth Beg. It's all the poor man 'as in this world. I isn't shrived. I want to nestle in Abraham's bosom when I die. Hub. The patriarch has a strong stomach. I commend your piety, my worthy friend. (To the crowd.) Do you attend divine service? [Andrew adnnts another beggar, who, unnoticed of Hubert, j-etires to a secluded part of the room.] 56 potter's field. Choeus. We never miss a sermon, yotir lordship. Hub. That's right. Don't fall away; you have every element of grace within you. (Raises up his hands in a mock benediction :) "Blessed are ye." Now, let us talk business. I have easy work for you, and generous pay. But you must not get drunk. Foukth Beg. Zfineve'r taktk another glath — hie. Hub. Yes, you must take another glass. I don't enjoin total abstinence. You shall have liquor money. Third Beg. That's liberal; that's what I like between man and man. Fourth Beg. I'll drink yer 'ealth — hie. First and Second Beg. His lordshij) is a good boss. Fifth Beg. It's father Abra'am 'imself. . Hub. (In a voice that makes them all start) . Silence! (Tlishiy.) You will all keep your rags; your infectious breath; your un- washed hands; your unshaven beard; your unkempt hair; this is easy. Chorus. That's no work at all. Hub. Wait a moment. More work than you suppose. You will, at the divine hour, congregate at the church I will designate; a gentleman will meet you at the door, and show each of you to a separate and a velvet-cushioned seat, bordering on the central aisle; that's easy. . First Bkg. ] f Can't I sit by Dennys? Second Beg. f In concert. J Is it thim Protestant Church, you ] mane? The others. J [ Can't we take a back seat? Hcbert. You will rendezvous at such theatre, academy o 1 music, lecture-room as I will advise ; and there, also, at the door, you will find a gentleman in broadcloth and spotless kids, to escort you separately to a conspicuous place, well lighted, and ranging on the front tiers — that's easy. 1st Beggar. "] -g f I have no taste for them things. 2d do. J % My ear is not edicated. 3d do. r § ' ^ despise front tiers. 4th do. I « | No sense nor liquor in that {hie). 5th do. J ,£j \ Light hurts my eyes. Hubert. You will once a week patronize the restaurants where the bon ion are wont to resort ; and there, also, gentlemen will wait courteously on your wants — that's easy. 1st Beggar. ] -g \ Gi' me me murph) r s. 2d do. j g | Me appetite is not delicate. 3d do. \ a \ I'd take my victuals in the kitchen. 4th do. j o | Liquor (hie) is weak at your restaurant. 5th do. J £ [ Lead me to green pastures. Hubert. And more of the like that easy. If you survive a three months' ordeal, I'll give each of you a pension. (Sounds the alarm for Andrew.) potter's field. 57 1st Beggae. ] f Oh, we ain't the dare. 2d do. j "g Think of the like of us in genteel company. 3d do. ! g J We are 'umble folk. 4th do. I o 1 A man (hie) can't do the like o' that (hie) a I when he is sober. 5th do. J M [ I ixre Lazarus, I are. Hubert (to Andrew entering). Andrew, these tatterdemalions to the street. 1st Beggar. ] f Any 'o'cloths for a poor man, sir? 2d do. f (aside.) Every man to his calling. (Steals -e J sundry articles.) 3d. do . Si Any dirty work, your lordship. 4th . do. \- g -I [risingr.] I s'phose I must [hie] travel, or be kicked down the stair. 5th do. I ^ | [To Andrew, hustling him] My affliction! | You hurt my affliction. You're rough on Lazarus. [Beggars are hustled out, and exit Andrew.] Hubert. Sololoq. Gangrened ebionims! Infectious pariahs! [Lights and burns a paper to purify the atmosphere.] This carrion effluvium would have the better of Vesuvius. Rotten excrescence of the body politic. A problem forever wanting a solution. Yet, these miserables cling to life. Wretches adhere to wretchedness by nature's paradox of harmony. Then to their hovels and their wailowings return they. Let them harbor life's inherent instincts for a safeguard to society. Better hold existence as the cast of a die, that one may play at an even game with the ogre. But, no courage ; no hate ; no love ; no inquiry for their fellow, or birthright, or cause. Nothing, noth- ing — save absolute poor devil. By St.. George! forty such brains compounded would but make the cerebelum of a Dogberry. (Observing a figure partially screened by the folds of the window cur- tain.) Didn't he take the hint? I say, why ain't you gone with your fellows? Stranger. I came alone. Hubert. Oh, you needn't stand on the order of your going. Stran. (coming forward). When a party sends for another, the party sent for has a right to assume that the party sending has something in view with the party sent for. Hubert. That logic is conclusive and not to be contradicted. Well, sir, what can you do toward my amusement. Stran. What would you have? Hubert. I want an original — a nondescript ; a man not like unto any other in Christendom. A man who, having talents to knock Plutus off his gait, will work like Hercules for a crust of bread. What have you followed? 58 potter's field. Stkan. Outrageous fortune. Hubeet. What have you followed as a calling? • Stkan. Nothing and everything. There is hardly a country on the face of the globe but what I have seen ; hardly a vocation but what I have plied ; hardly a man of note crosses my path, but what I could tell something of his history. I knew you in America, Commodore Fitz Simmons. Hubeet. Indeed! What were you doing there? Stfan. What I had done before; what I have done since. I traveled great distances to seek what all can find at home. I un- derwent fatigue and pain to secure that which as soon secured was as soon thrown away. I sought that which most people eschew, and that which others pursue had no attraction for me. I know myself, sir. Hubeet. That's the perfection of knowledge. Why should you not put it to a practical use ? Stran. Of myself I can do nothing, and none will for me. Why, sir, when applying for work, I am so used to hear people say "no " to me, that I have begun to believe that it is precon- certed among the rest of mankind to test how long a man may starve ami not die, when every other shrug the head at him. Hubeet. You have the worse part of Ishmael's curse. Stean. It is a great gain, sir, to be a fool and know it, and be content to remain such. But, alas! when the consciousness of worth percolates through every pore in the body, how can one help to pereeive, and perceiving, how help to strive? Well, sir, what would you? Hubeet. You might, perhaps, be of some transitory amuse- ment to me. What, I would ask again, do you pursue for a livelihood? Stean. I perambulate the town: I carry travelers' buggage; sometimes, sacks, of coal to the grocer's customers; again, I do the cleaning of stables; once I got the boot-polishing at an aris- tocratic mansion; somehow it leaked out that I could predict lu- nar eclipses, and the footman was instructed to tell me that astronomers were inconvenient boot-blacks, and they should have me polish the pale face of the moon. Hubeet. That was a slur on astronomers. Stkan. Well, sir, when after the day's drudgeries, I find my- self alone in my attic, then — I live. I sit down and gather my thoughts and ponder: I have a word to say, sir, and should I have to leave of my heart's blood on every pavement-stone, and of my tears on every curb, -I would speak that word. Then shall I die content. Hubert {aside.) Heaven help the innocent! (To stranger.) You say you have tried more or less of everything: Have you ever tried the stage? Stkan. No, sir. I applied once at Drury Lane, but was told, as usual, " not wanted." potter's field. 51 > Hubert. Have yon self-confidence? Stran. I have. When to gain a point depends on my own exertions alone, I know not "fail." I have no fault in an en- terprise, the success of which demands the helping good-will of others to me. Hubert. I want a man for Drury Lane: an artist true to nature. The drama is known as the "Devil's Paradise," and Satan is the character I shall want you to fill. I will pay you ten shillings the performance, and — a benefit. Do you accept? Stran. {absorbed in t hov.ght. ) Satan? Hdbert. Satan. Stran. What is the drift of the play? Hubert. To hold up the mirror to society, and as they look and see themselves reflected therein, the devil says: "Ladies and gentlemen, this is I! " Stran. Must I speak the written word? Hubert. Here is the printed copy of the play. (Holds out a sheet) . Stran. Put away that apothecary's compound, and let me serve them of my own prescription. Hubert (with irony.) Are you the doctor? Stran. Aye, and not of the homeopathic school. I have nauseous decoctions and undisguised. The kind that have been given me. Hubert. A bitter dose? Stran. Aloes. Mr. Fitz Simmons, you are rich, sir, and, perhaps, are you wont to have servants that do a master's bid- ding? Sir, if you elect, I will be servant to your servant and do my work well; but I can imagine of no play that a rich man would write, that all his gold could hire me to act. Hunger savored with hate is of easier digestion to one of my experiences than the rich man's peace-offering. Hubert (giving stranger the sheet. ) Take this to your garret, and there judge of the matter for yourself. Stran. (holding the sheet as a mirror to Hubert.) Ladies and gentlemen, this is not you; it is not I; it is the Commodore. Hubert (somewhat amused.) Capital! Your name? Stran. Morino. Hubert. To-morow let me hear from you. Good day, Mr . Morino. (Hubert waves his hand and exit Morino.) Solo log. There is savor in that chap, and it must come out now if it ever will. He'll carry the play by storm, I know it; were it but to chafe those pampered pets of fortune, whom, I perceive, he can- didly hates. After that, he may, according to his temperament, doff his cap and horns and throw them at the property-man. but my spleen is ventilated. 60 pottek's field. Scene II. -Caseatelle, a suburban villa of Sir Fitz Simmon's. A bower in the back-ground. In the foreground are to be seen statuary, Chinese lanterns, rare plants, etc. Time, evening. Present: Sir Fitz Simmons, always suffering from the dropsy. Lady Fitz Simmons, Miss Mack, Grospotrine, Mincebeck, domestic. Grospotrine. There is not the shadow of a doubt in my mind, but the new sensation in Drury Lane is a covert attack on the rich. " The Devil's Paradise " is an arena where the rich are the Numidian lions, and the poor the gladiators, and the gladiators are ate up by the lions. Sir Fitz Simmons. I believe, Grospotrine, we are all of one accoi-d in the view you take of it. Any one of ordinary percep- tion will see with half an eye that the drift of the drama caters to popular prejudice. Miss Mack. Such exhibitions are pernicious, and fundamen- tally wrong. Who are the rich? -the poor man's manna in the desert. And contemplate, for a moment, if you please, the in- solence of the poor. Why, sir, in whatever place of public re- sort the rich and the poor are brought together, did you ever know the poor man to concede half an inch of what he thought was his measure? No, sir; he stands in his two-foot square and the "Magna charla." Sir Fitz. The rich are singularly inconsistent. We complain that we are belied ; and an hour before the curtain lifts on the dramatic libel, Drury Lane is packed from parquette to dome, with the elite of London society. We seem to say to the man- ager, as we sit there in expectance: "We are sitting patiently for the flagellation, please be so good as to begin." Mincebeck. The rich, Sir Fitz Simmons — Sir Fitz (in accents of pain). Dobbins, Dobbins!' Where is the fellow gone to? (Re-enters Dobbins.) My feet, sirrah, my feet. (Dobbins settles down to his work.) Rub gently, I say. I am not a horse. You don't rub where the pain is, sir. Dobbins. An' if I do, your lordship gets angry. Sir Fitz. Who wouldn't get angry to be handled like a horse? Lady Fitz. Be gentle, Dobbins. (To Nellie.) Run to the laundry after your grandpa's warm flaunel. Dobbins. She needn't — and the fire is out. Lady Fitz. Where are the girls? Dobbins. Priscilla is doing the bride's maid at her cousin's wedding, and Bridget is having a sociable in the kitchen. I'll go with the flannel. (Proceeds to unwrap Sir Fitz Simmon's feet. J Sir Fitz. You rascal, don't uncover my feet. Dobbins (still umcrapping) . I want the rag to warm it. Sir Fitz. Let it alone, I say. Go to the laundry for the flan- nel that is there, warm it, and hurry back to me. [Exit Dobbins.] potter's field. . Gl Mincebeck. The rich, Sir Fitz Simmons- Miss Mack (interrupting). Domestics are so emancipated now-a-days that there is no putting up with them. Mincebeck (resuming) . The rich, Sir Fitz Simmons — Miss Mack. I have changed servants three times in a fort- night, and for the worse every time. I can endure their tyranny no longer. The rich are badly served. Geospotbine. As it will ever be the lot of those who don't serve themselves. Mince, (resuming) . The rich, Sir Fitz Simmons, 'are not so inconsistent as you would be pleased to infer. The rich are the patrons of all that is sublime and beautiful in ideal. They alone possess that delicate sense necessary to appreciate — Sib Fitz (ijroanhvj) . The gout. Mince. The ideal. Gbos. This is purely the result of cause and effect, Mr. Mince- beck. The rich consume the choice cuts, the generous wines, and, as a matter of course, the best in the material is always allied to the best in the ideal. England produces the fattest mutton and the best 'ops in the world, you know. Sib Fitz.. Rumor attributes the authorship of the "Devil's Paradise " to Commodore Fitz Simmons, the American banker and capitalist. For my part, I am loth to believe that a financier and an American would prostitute fair talents, purely to bring odium on a society and civilization, to which he himself more particularly belongs. Lady Fitz. There isn't a grain of truth in the rumor. A man with his hundreds of millions — hundreds of millions, Sir John, libelling the rich — absurd! Gkospoteine. We are not to put to the drama the serious in- terpretation Sir John is pleased to put on it. The theatre is simply an art gallery. Thus, we look with admiration, on Caesar slain and prostrate on the marble of (he Capitol; near the body a massive seat has been overturned, and on it we read: " Roma." All this is canvas; a conception, and a daub. Not another regi- cide will add his name to that of Brutus. Sib Fitz. I don't attach the importance of a straw to the drama, Mr. Grospotrine. Our insular instincts will ever uphold the permanence of an institution and the stability of existing things. Our fortunes are in the keeping of the sturdy yeo- manry, and the unmatched nobility of Great Britain. Lady Fitz. And the unmatched nobility of Great Britain! The dear Commodore should get a peerage. Mincebeck. Your remarks, Sir John, are replete with logic. What, indeed, can gross and brainless visionaries accomplish against the united brain and back-bone of the country? Gbos. Your visior ary would require a thorough feeding, and a digestion equal to the hoof and horn of the universe. Mince. He would require an inspiration — an idea from on 62 . potter's field. high. If any man would conceive an idea, he must fast forty days. If he would have his idea triumph: he must go to his calvary. Gkos. Then I'll never conceive, Mr. Mincebeck. Do you be- lieve that the author of " The Devil's*Paradise," hungered forty days, sir? Mince. He crucified the stomach, sir. Lady Fitz. Nonsense, — a man of millions! Miss Mack, I would give something to know what the ascetic author of l1 The Paradise " does contemplate. Lady Fitz. The dear Commodore has been invited to Casca- tclle. He is hourly expected. Miss Mack. Indeed! I am delighted. I will quiz the Commo- dore. He will have to let me into his confidence. Lady Fitz. Miss MacK, please guard against any indiscretion. These Americans are entitled to consideration. — A. man of a hundred millions! Miss Mack. And a bachelor! Lady Fitz. That's the best. — Although, (in a lower voice) , I don't say — that — were he a peer — he would not make a very de- sirable son-in-law. Sir Fitz. {in acute agony J Dobbins! Dobbins! (Re-enters Dobbins with bandage.) Dobbins. Here it is, sir, and not too hot either. (Proceeds to apply the flannel to Fit z-S' feel.) Sin Fitz. (with a senstds, and laying it on the table). No, let it alone. Nature's cures are wonderful, and mountebanks get the praise. Can you keep a secret? Est. Truly can I; and most truly — your's. Hub. Never tell any one that I say, "Nature is cheated by human art." Est. That is not what you had to say. (Sadly.) You don't trust me. Hub. That is a secret what very few know, else, would physicians prescribe Nature's medicaments; pure air, and a serene conscience, not closed windows and murderous drugs. I want to hire your lodging to-night. That is the secret. Est. And me for your lady of the bed chamber? Hub. I expect a distinguished visitor. Your appointments are more genteel than mine. Est. I will change rooms with you. Hub. No, that will not answer. I need yours and mine. Est. A lady visitor? Hub. A secret should not be questioned. Est. Shall I return in the morning? Hub. If you choose. Est. Hubert, you frighten me. Tell me once what is the matter? 86 pottek's field. Hub. "Will you consent? Est. To what? Hub. Give me your key, and go. Est. (looking toward the cloth-press) . Must I? Hub. You should to oblige me. Est. Can't I oblige you in any other way? Hub. Not that I kriow. Est. (Always looking toward the cloth-press.) Let me stay with you till your visitor come; I will slip out without seeing or being seen. Let me stay. Hub. No need of your staying. Est. I am afraid. Hub. Of what? Est. To leave you alone. Hub. Were you not alone when I came? What has happened you; what can happen me? Est. Promise to open to me early in the morning. Hub. I will. (Estella gives Hubert her key, and moves away.) Wait a moment; I forgot something. (Sits to the table, torites,and hands her the note). Here is jour compensation. Est. I don't want pay. Hub. (insisting). Take it, I say. I have sinned enough against charity. To-morrow, present this at the bank, and the cashier will know it. Est. Give it me in the morning. Hub. I shall have other things to attend to in the morning, and it may escape my mind. Est. (sadly). Hubert, I shall not see you to-morrow. Hub. Will you be a good girl till you see me again? (He has risen, ami drawing her in his embrace, kisses her.) Now, go. Do not tarry. Breathe not a word. (Exit Estella.) [Hubert locks the door; turns the picture to the wall; draws up a chair and sits down in it.} Hubert (solo loq.) Thus it is with man: He is strong: he glories in his prowess; he measures his stature with the cedars that grow on the mountains; he lays his plans on the founda- tions of the everlasting hills. He says, "Aha ! the earth shall not quake: my work will endure forever" — and a dying girl whispers (his voice falt»rs) , "Papa, when I am dead, bury me in Norwood where mamma is " and he, the strong man— (rests his head on his hand. After a pause:) Nature, thou considerest not man. Thou permittest him to pursue the ways of his folly; thou puttest breath in the mouth of a child and he is con- tounded. The motive of my life beats against my brain, as when a ship in the lull after a cyclone beats her sails against the mast. No hate to live for and no love for me to die. An exist- ence wasted in a vain conceit, thinking that mortal moments of potter's field. 87 hatred and malice would solve the conflict of centuries and set the wisdom of ages at naught. Aud now a desert spreads out before me, the barrenness of which I cannot endure and which I must tread alone. (Looks at his watch.) It is twelve-forty of the watch. A few more ticks of time and this heart will have ceased beating forever. (Lays Ids watch on the table; takes out a pistol from a side-pocket and lays it down also. Then rises and paces the floor.) Nature hath not banished Mercy. When the unspent sands of life become burdensome to him that lugs them, a pit opens wide wherein he may fling self, burden, and the remembrance. The pit — the pit is the thorough leveler. For an eternity, underneath head-board or mausoleum, the identical adipocere declares ail men near relatives. ( Morino has noiselessly come out of his hiding place, and, as Hu- bert, who has reached the lower end of the room, turns, the two men stand facing each other. The town clock strikes one.) Morino. Did you not hear it ? The hour is meet for the last expired breath of fate, borne on the wings of the bat, to course its downward flight to perpetual shades. Here (taking up the jjistol) is action. Do you flinch ? Come and take this. Hubert. Morino! Morino. Aye, the school-master of Willow-Brook. Hubert. Morino! Moeino. A child has been murdered: they say that I have done the deed — 'tis false — and I must die, but — I shall not die alone. Come and take this medicine, I say, and don't make mouths at it. (Holds out the pistol to Hubert.) Shall I carry it to you. ? (He carries it to Hubert, who takes it from him. Morino retires to the table. After a moment's suspense, Hubert draws the hammer, takes a deliberate aim at Morino, fires, but the cap atone explodes.) Hangs fire! Powder wet. Try this, Commodore. (Morino throws a dirk id Hubert, Spanish fashion. The blade strikes Hubert to the heart and he falls without a struggle.) Scene V. (Spectacular.) Boa-constrictors crawl from out of the side-scene upon the stage, where they coil and uncoil them- selves. Several alligators come up from out of the lake, seen in the background. An angel touchs the reptiles with a wand and a grand transformation takes place. The snakes break up into rings and the alligators separate fore and after, and from each division appears an angel. [Grand March of the Angels.~\ The End. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 016 102 438 7 #