A Lady of England 17

A Lady of England 17

AGN. Can he speak thus who hath so long espoused

The Royal cause, and served that cause so well?

Who, girt with honours, well deserved, hath stood

One in a noble Brotherhood of Fame!

Where are the Cavaliers who fought with thee

In battle, side by side, who with thee shared

The feast, and drained the wine-cup to your King?

Where are they now? what, gone? not one remains,

T’assert thy innocence, or shield thee from

An ignominious death. Friends! out upon them!

They mock the name; it were not thus, if thou

Hadst drawn thy gallant sword with those who wear

No chains but those of Virtue, those who own

No earthly Monarch, and uphold no power

But that of Liberty; whose friendship lasts

Not only when the red wine sparkles high,

And revelry and song profane the night;

If such had been thy comrades and thy friends,

Thou hadst not been forsaken thus.

 

RAV. No more!

 

AGN. The gate thou hast defended with thy blood,

To-morrow casts thee forth, led out to die;

And the proud towers coldly will look down

Upon the closing scene; for hearts more hard

And more impregnable decree thy doom.

Thou diest a traitor’s death;--but wert thou _ours_,

Then ev’ry bush around the fatal spot

Should hold an armed defender, ev’ry knoll

Conceal an ambushed friend, and at a word

A wall of steel should bristle round thy breast;

Then swords should clash with swords, and they who came

To shed thy blood lie weltering in their own.

If thou wert ours--and yet thou mayst be ours,----

 

RAV. Cease, for I know thee, Temptress; words like these

Betray the fair false lips from which they flow.

Thou’rt Agnes, own it,--Gasper Tarlton’s love.

 

AGN. Agnes I am, not Gasper Tarlton’s love.

The thistledown that floats upon the breeze,

The thorny weed which from my path I spurn,

The insect which I crush beneath my tread,

Are not to me more insignificant,

More worthless--than the Slave whom thou hast named.

 

RAV. Thank Heaven! then my last doubt melts away;

He yet is true, yet faithful to his King;

My sacrifice will not be made for nought.

Maid, he is honoured in thy hate!

 

AGN. And thou----

 

RAV. Leave me.

 

AGN. To perish!

 

RAV. Thou canst not defend.

 

AGN. I could,--yes, I could arm in thy behalf

A thousand gallant hands, might I but say,

‘The injured will on the oppressor turn,

Unite the love of freedom with revenge,

A thousand-fold repay the debt he owes

To your brave confidence; in Ravensby

Ye will destroy a foe and win a friend!’

Could I speak thus----

 

RAV. Thy sex protects thee, Maid,

Or thou shouldst learn the meed of treason. Hence!

 

AGN. From other lips such words I had not borne.

Why should I thus urge life upon thee,--why

Seek to preserve thee in thine own despite?

O thou art worthy of a nobler cause;

I see in thee one who can nobly dare,

Firmly resolve, and boldly execute;--

And what a bright career before thee lies----

 

RAV. A brief one,--from the dungeon to the tomb.

 

AGN. To die a Traitor in the eyes of men.

 

RAV. Better than live a villain in my own.

Depart, and leave me to my fate. Away!

 

AGN. O brave and glorious! I will tempt no more.

My pride is humbled. I have found a soul

That soars beyond mine own. I would not rob

Thy pinion of one plume. I watch thy flight

With kindling emulation. O for power

To follow it, that I above this sphere

Might rise; companion, not unworthy thee!

 

RAV. A step approaches.

 

AGN. None must see me here. [_Retires into shade._]

 

Agnes in the end confesses herself guilty of the crime for which he is

condemned to death;--in time to save his name from lasting disgrace,

though not in time to save his life.

 

_Who Was The Witch?_ though in parts amusing enough, is hardly so good

as the others. Modern English puns sit oddly upon a background of

pre-mediæval Saxon history. _Grimhaggard Hall_ is perhaps one of A. L.

O. E.’s most comic and laughable _jeux-d’esprit_, over which one can

picture the family as enjoying many a hearty laugh. The perpetual play

upon words, and the almost rollicking fun and nonsense of the whole,

remind one of her earlier effort, _The Pretender_, already given at

length; though the later-written farce is in some respects scarcely equal

to the girlish achievement. Both these plays illustrate well the frisky

and frolicsome side of a character which was in some respects not only

intensely serious, but absolutely stern. Charlotte Tucker’s was truly a

many-sided nature.

 

Whether at this time she had already begun to write anything in the shape

of children’s story-books does not appear. It is by no means unlikely,

since the date of her first appearance in print was now fast drawing near.

 

The chief characters in _Grimhaggard Hall_ are--Mr. Cramp; Mr. Scull, an

artist; Mr. Wriggle, a tutor; Miss Cob; and Nellie, daughter of Mr. Cramp.

 

ACT I.

 

_Library in Grimhaggard Hall. Nellie and Mr. Wriggle._

 

NELLIE. O my dear old Tutor, I shall be so sorry to lose you! I

wish that my good Father had kept to his old plan, and instead

of sending Bob to College had kept both you and him here. This

house is so intolerably dull. When you are gone I shall sit

looking at the old stones in the old wall, till I petrify into

one myself. Why, the very spiders’ webs look as though there

were no business doing in them, and not a _fly_ nor even a

_broom_ would call at the door! Heigh-ho!

 

WRIG. You forget, honoured Madam, the governess, Miss Cob, who

is expected here to-morrow.

 

NELL. A governess; the horror! then I hear that she is

an oddity; so absent; very learned though, and extremely

well-informed. I am rather old for a governess; I was seventeen

last March. It would have been quite a different thing to have

gone on with my studies here with you and Bob. Do you know

that, without vanity, I consider that I have made amazing

progress during the month that you have been here?

 

WRIG. In Geography, Madam, for instance. Let me have the honour

of recalling to your oblivious memory that only yesterday you

forgot the situation of Guinea.

 

NELL. Nonsense! I said that it was on the _Gold_ Coast, and

wished I had it in my own pocket.

 

WRIG. I have remarked with regret, if you will permit me to say

it, an aversion to consulting the Atlas, which----

 

NELL. Keep me from you and your atlas! Atlas carried the world,

and you would burden me with the Atlas. I hardly consider

myself competent yet to carry the whole globe on my poor little

shoulders. I should like to know what is the use of knowing the

situation of this place and that place, to one who never has

the satisfaction of seeing any place at all beyond the walls

of our stupid garden. I wish that the cross old gentleman who

bequeathed my father Grimhaggard Hall, had lived to repent it,

that I do! I would rather live in the narrowest lane in the

City than be cooped up here like a toad in a block. I’ve no

fancy to be a Penelope,--stitch, stitch, stitch!

 

WRIG. Penelope was a distinguished ornament to her sex.

 

NELL. O dear Tutor, I know that she was a duck of a queen, but