William Dunlap

“ Bland. My father knew not André.
I know his value; owe to him my life;
And gratitude, that first, that best of virtues,—
Without the which man sinks beneath the brute,—
Binds me in ties indissoluble to him.
M'Donald. That man-created virtue blinds thy reason.
Man owes to man all love; when exercised,
He does no more than duty. Gratitude,
That selfish rule of action, which commands
That we our preference make of men,
Not for their worth, but that they did us service,
Misleading reason, casting in the way
Of justice stumbling-blocks, cannot be virtue.
Bland. Detested sophistry! ”

“ Bland. Damnation!
André. Such is my doom. O, have the manner changed,
And of mere death I 'll think not. Dost thou think—?
Perhaps thou canst gain that—?
Bland. (Almost in a phrenzy.) Thou shalt not die.
André. Let me, O, let me die a soldier's death,
While friendly clouds of smoke shroud from all eyes
My last convulsive pangs, and I 'm content.
Bland. (With increasing emotion.) Thou shalt not die! Curse on the laws of war!
If worth like thine must thus be sacrificed
To policy so cruel and unjust,
I will forswear my country and her service ”

“ How self intrudes, delusive, on man's thoughts.
He sav'd thy life, yet strove to damn thy country;
Doom'd millions to the haughty Briton's yoke;
The best and foremost in the cause of virtue
To death, by sword, by prison, or the halter;
His sacrifice now stands the only bar
Between the wanton cruelties of war
And our much-suffering soldiers; yet when weigh'd
With gratitude, for that he sav'd thy life,
These things prove gossamer, and balance air;—
Perversion monstrous of man's moral sense!
Bland. Rather perversion monstrous of all good
Is thy accurs'd, detestable opinion. ”

“ Cold-blooded reasoners, such as thee, would blast
All warm affection; asunder sever
Every social tie of humanized man.
Curst be thy sophisms, cunningly contriv'd
The callous coldness of thy heart to cover,
And screen thee from the brave man's detestation!
M'Donald. Boy, boy!
Bland. Thou knowest that André 's not a spy.
M'Donald. I know him one. Thou hast acknowledg'd it.
Bland. Thou liest!
M'Donald. Shame on thy ruffian tongue! How passion
Mars thee! I pity thee. Thou canst not harm,
By words intemperate, a virtuous man. ”

“ Melville. You will not need the last, for the blest sun
Ne'er rises on his slumbers; by the dawn
We see him mounted gaily in the field,
Or find him wrapt in meditation deep,
Planning the welfare of our war-worn land.
Bland. Prosper, kind Heaven, and recompense his cares.
Melville. You're from the South, if I presume aright?
Bland. I am; and, Melville, I am fraught with news.
The South teems with events—convulsing ones.
The Briton, there, plays at no mimic war;
With gallant face be moves, and gallantly is met.
Brave spirits, rous'd by glory, throng our camp ”

“ M'Donald. Thou payest high praise to virtue. Whither now?
Mrs. Bland. I still must hover round this spot until
My doom is known.
M'Donald. Then to my quarters, lady;
There shall my mate give comfort and refreshment:
One of your sex can best your sorrows soothe.
(Exeunt.)
Scene, the prison.
(Enter Bland.)
Bland. Where'er I look, cold desolation meets me.
My father—André—and self-condemnation.
Why seek I André now? Am I a man
To soothe the sorrows of a suffering friend?
The weather-cock of passion! fool inebriate! ”

“ Perhaps thro' dire necessity, heap'd on us;
Surely the scene would move you to forget
His late intent— (tho' only serving then
As duty prompted) —and turn the rigor
Of War's iron law from him, the best of men,
Meant only for the worst.
General. Captain, no more.
Bland. If André lives, the prisoner finds a friend;
Else helpless and forlorn—
All men will bless the act, and bless thee for it.
General. Think'st thou thy country would not curse the man
Who, by a clemency ill-tim'd, ill-judg'd,
Encourag'd treason? That pride encourag'd. ”

“ Their trade the trade of honor—high-soul'd honor—
Yet honor shall accord in act with falsehood.
O! that proud man should e'er descend to play
The tempter's part, and lure men to their ruin!
Deceit and honor badly pair together.
Seward. You have much shew of reason; yet, methinks
What you suggest of one, whom fickle Fortune,
In her changeling mood, hath hurl'd, unpitying,
From her topmost height to lowest misery,
Tastes not of charity. André, I mean. ”

“ Appointed. André, thy friend, is now no more.
Bland. Farewell, farewell, brave spirit! O! let my countrymen,
Henceforward when the cruelties of war
Arise in their remembrance; when their ready
Speech would pour forth torrents in their foe's dispraise,
Think on this act accurst, and lock complaint in silence.
(Bland throws himself on the earth.) M'Donald. Such are the dictates of the heart, not head.
O, may the children of Columbia still
Be taught by every teacher of mankind,
Each circumstance of calculative gain,
Or wounded pride, which prompted our oppressors ”

“ Ye are cast down the gulph, poor babes, ye weep
From sympathy. Children of sorrow, nurst,
Nurtur'd, 'midst camps and arms; unknowing man,
But as man's fell destroyer; must ye now,
To crown your piteous fate, be fatherless?
O, lead me, lead me to him! Let me kneel,
Let these, my children, kneel, till André, pardon'd,
Ensures to me a husband, them a father.
Melville. Madam, duty forbids further attendance.
I am on guard to-day. But see your son;
To him I leave your guidance. Good wishes
Prosper you. (Exit Melville.)
(Enter Bland.)
Mrs. Bland. My Arthur, O my Arthur!
Bland. ”

“ See what employment
For a dying man. Take thou these verses;
And, after my decease, send them to her
Whose name is woven in them; whose image
Hath controul'd my destiny. Such tokens
Are rather out of date. Fashions
There are in love as in all else; they change
As variously. A gallant knight, erewhile,
Of Cœur de Lion's day, would, dying, send
His heart home to its mistress; degenerate
Soldier, I send but some blotted paper.
Bland. If 't would not damp thy present cheerfulness,
I would require the meaning of thy words.
I ne'er till now did hear of André's mistress.
André. ”

“ Where good and ill in strange commixture float,
To rise, by strong necessity impell'd;
Starting, like Love divine, from womb of Night,
Illuming all, to order all reducing;
And showing by its bright and noontide blaze
That happiness alone proceeds from justice.
Seward. Dreams, dreams! Man can know naught but ill on earth.
M'Donald. I 'll to my bed, for I have watch'd all night;
And may my sleep give pleasing repetition
Of these my waking dreams! Virtue's incentives.
(Exit.) Seward. Folly's chimeras rather: guides to error.
(Enter Bland, preceded by a Sergeant.) ”

“ Ne'er shall my helmet
Lack again its proudest, noblest ornament,
Until my country knows the rest of peace,
Or Bland the peace of death. (Exit.)
Above what once thou wast, some few do rise;
None above what thou art.
Bland. It shall be so.
M'Donald. It is so.
Bland. Then to prove it.
For I must yet a trial undergo,
That will require a consciousness of virtue. (Exit.)
M'Donald. O, what a temper doth in man reside!
How capable of yet unthought perfection!
(Exit.) >
Scene, the General's quarters. ”

“ Is worth; 't is truth; 't is virtue; 't is a thing
So high preeminent, that a boy's breath,
Or brute's, or madman's blow can never reach it.
My honor is so much, so truly mine.
That none hath power to wound it, save myself.
Bland. I will proclaim thee through the camp a coward.
M'Donald. Think better of it. Proclaim not thine own shame.
Bland. I 'll brand thee,—damnation!
(Exit.) M'Donald. O passion, passion!
A man who values fame far more than life;
A brave young man; in many things a good ”

“ Bland. (In tears, gives him the letter.) Read, Melville.
First Child. Do not cry, Mama, for I 'm sure if Papa said he would come home to-day, he will come yet; for he always does what he says he will.
Mrs. Bland. He cannot come, dear love; they will not let him.
Second Child. Why, then, they told him lies. O, fye upon them!
Melville. (Returning the letter.) Fear nothing, Madam, 't is an empty threat:
A trick of policy. They dare not do it.
Mrs. Bland. Alas, alas! what dares not power to do? ”

“ And nothing feel but pity.
Bland. (Indignantly.) Pity me! (Approaches him, and speaks in an under voice.)
Thou canst be cool, yet, trust me, passion sways thee.
Fear does not warm the blood, yet 't is a passion. ”

“ Thou canst advance for this; but to thy heart
Thou wilt need none, good Melville.
André. O Honora!
Honora. Cheer up, I feel assur'd. Hope wings my flight,
To bring thee tidings of much joy to come.
(Exit Honora, with Bland and Melville. )
André. Eternal blessings on thee, matchless woman!—
If Death now comes, he finds the veriest coward
That e'er he dealt withal. I cannot think
Of dying. Void of fortitude, each thought
Clings to the world—the world that holds
Honora! (Exit.)
END OF THE FOURTH ACT.
ACT FIFTH.
Scene, the Encampment. ”

“ William Dunlap was born February 19, 1766, at Perth Amboy, New Jersey. He grew up with a fondness for the theatre, and saw many of the productions of the British soldiers in New York City during the Revolution. From 1784 to 1787, he spent in England and there saw the best actors of that period. Returning to New York, he was inspired by the success of The Contrast to write plays. His first play to be performed, The Father or American Shandyism, was played by the American Company at the John Street Theatre, New York, September 7, 1789, and was a comedy of manners. ”

“ Man runs the wild career of blind ambition,
Plunges in vice, takes falsehood for his buoy,
And when he feels the waves of ruin o'er him,
Curses, "in good set terms," poor Lady Fortune.
General. (Sportively to Seward.) His mood is all untoward; let us leave him. ”

“ Washington is introduced with his officers and then André's captors come in and there is a general glorification of the American arms. André was more of a unit than The Glory of Columbia and the dramatic action was more intelligible. The Glory of Columbia, however, was printed in 1817 and held the stage as late as 1847.
Dunlap's plays must be read usually in the early editions, difficult now to obtain. The proposed Collected Edition in ten volumes seems to have been carried only to three; Vol. I, Philadelphia, 1806 and Vols. 2 and 3, New York, 1816. ”

“ My husband! doomed to die! Retaliation!
(She looks forward with wildness, consternation, and horror.)
To die, if André dies! He dies to-day!
My husband to be murdered! And to-day!
To-day, if André dies! Retaliation!
O curst contrivance! Madness relieve me!
Burst, burst, my brain! Yet—André is not dead;
My husband lives. (Looks at the letter.) "One man has power."
I fly to save the father of my children!
(Rushes out.)
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
ACT THIRD.
Scene, the General's quarters. The General and Bland come forward.}}
General. ”

“ One of the best of his plays, printed in 1807 as Leicester and played April 24, 1794, as The Fatal Deception, is a verse tragedy laid in Elizabethan England.
André was performed at the Park Theatre, New York, March 30, 1798, It was received, Dunlap tells us, with warm applause, until Cooper, who acted "Bland," in pleading for André's life, tore the American cockade from his casque and threw it from him. ”

“ Darby's Return has been reprinted in an appendix to Washington and the Theatre, by Paul Leicester Ford, Dunlap Society Reprint. New York, 1899. André was reprinted by the Dunlap Society with a very interesting introduction by Brander Matthews, New York, 1887. The Father was reprinted by the Dunlap Society with an introduction by T. J. McKee, New York, 1887. Dunlap's History of the American Theatre, New York, 1832, or in better form, London, 1833, should be consulted for his life and for a description of his plays. ”

“ Bland is the victim they have singled out,
Hoping his threaten'd death will André save.
M'Donald. If I were Bland I boldly might advise
My General how to act. Free, and in safety,
I will now suppose my counsel needless.
(Enter an American Officer.)
Officer. Another flag hath from the foe arrived,
And craves admittance.
General. Conduct it hither.
(Exit Officer.)
Let us, unwearied hear, unbias'd judge,
Whate'er against our martial court's decision,
Our enemies can bring.
(Enter British Officer, conducted by the American Officer.)
General. You are welcome, sir. ”

“ Bland. Curse them! (Checking himself.) Yet, let not censure fall on André.
O, there are Englishmen as brave, as good,
As ever land on earth might call its own;
And gallant André is among the best!
General. Since they have hurl'd war on us, we must show
That by the laws of war we will abide ”

“ He became Assistant Paymaster General of New York State from 1813 to 1816. Dunlap died in 1839.
Dunlap wrote or adapted more than sixty plays. Of the various fields in which he worked, the most significant were first, his plays based on native material, and second, his adaptations from the German and from the French. To the first group belong beside The Father, Darty's Return, played November 24, 1789, and printed in 1789, interesting on account of its association with Washington; André; The Glory of Columbia ”