And we have heard how strangers from afar,
Inform'd by spirits at the dead of night,
Have told the names of secret'st men of blood.
It is a fearful, strange coincidence,
That your fair daughter should so wildly dread,
In this terrific and mysterious cause,
The hideous proof of visionary forms.
Glan. Give you, my Lord, too, credit to the thought ?Think you that Isbel's phantasy is true?
And must I cavil with a mad conceit,
Bred in the chaos of a maniac's brain,
Like a most strange creation?
To fix on me this ignominious charge,
Hath sprung engender'd as by miracle.
Jud. Have you, at any time, unheeding heard
Her pray'r for alms, slighted her helplessness,
Or chided at her importunity?
Glan. Never, never! This gentleman can witness,
That, more than all the general town beside,
Has been, my constant and unwearied kindness.
Mag. Nature, my Lord, in this has gone awry,
And by a wonderful and dire perversion,
Turn'd all the wonted sweet of gratitude,
Into most bitter and injurious wrong.
Glan. As stated as the dismal day return'd
It still has been my custom to bestow,
How ill-requited! on the poor insane
Some gift of pity and of charity.
Jud. Why kept you the remembrance of that day?
Glan. My Lord! I had no cause, but my compassion.
Jud. Doubtless you knew the widow's husband well. Glan. I did, my Lord, a man of honest worth,
But somewhat churlish in his speech, and prone
To swell to insolence in argument.
Jud. A man like many that we all have met, Whom one might fall in sudden quarrel with? Glan. He was indeed, my Lord.
His figure, and the manner of his garb?
Glan. To every point of the last suit he wore.
[The Judge motions Glanville to retire.] Jud. Has the accuser come?
Jud. [apart] It is a case that doth perplex me much.
Why should he hold this faithful memory?
All others, save the miserable widow,
Have almost lost remembrance of the fact,
But he retains the image of the man'
Fresh and unfaded !—
Isb. Justice, my Lord! I will not be seduc'd:
Tremendous and almighty Providence
Makes me in this an honor'd instrument,
And dare I falter in my awful function?
Methinks I see God's bright and lidless eye
Beaming intensely on us where we stand.
Justice, my Lord, I dare but ask for Justice.
Jud. Patience, good Isbel, moderate thy thoughts: I do entreat thee but one word apart.
Do you, distinctly, in all points of dress,
Retain remembrance of your murder'd husband?
Isb. Alas! my Lord, he ever stands before me.
1 see him now as he went forth to walk
On that dire morning when his life was ta'en,
-His plumed cap is gaily worn askance,
His coal-black hair, in affluent descent,
Flows o'er his purple cloak.-A primer man,
With frank and ruddy honesty of face,
Treads not the carpets of the regal dome.
Jud. His hair was black?
Yes, like the winter's cloud
That rests upon a mountain, white with snow.
Jud. His cap, you say, he gaily wore askance?
Isb. With a free boldness, not in vanity.
Jud. His cloak was purple?
That thus with trifles so impertinent,
You sting my heart to the full sense of suffering?
Ascend your seat and call me to accuse.
Jud. "Tis well. Come, gentlemen, let's to the hall.
SCENE II. A room in Glanville's house.
REGINALD and ARIETTE.
Reg. Refrain, dear sister, from this eager suit;
A few short minutes, and all will be done.
Rest where you are, and when the trial ends,
I will a speedy messenger dispatch,
To bless you with the tidings of acquittal.
Ariet. I will not stay,
I burn impatient to behold the scene;
And if I see it not, my fearful heart
Will surely flutter from its mansion here.
Reg. Alas! dear Ariette, so wildly wan
You will but there the gazing crowd surprise.
O try your native meekness to renew,
Be in our father's virtue confident,
Nor fear of prodigy will then alarm.
Ariet. I can but only think of what may come,
And the pent spirit in my heart dilating,
Feels clung by agony, while we stay here.
Haste, brother, haste.-Let us together go.
Why thus detain me by the wrist so firm?
O Reginald, thou false unfilial son,
Wilt thou stay here while thy dear father stands,
Upon the edge, the pinnacle of shame?
All eyes that see him, look expecting thee.
I am his daughter, and I will go there.
The laws of man may other ties divide,
But cannot part the chain of destiny,
Which links the parent and the child for ever.
I tell thee, Reginald, that I will go.
Take off thy hands. Release me. Why is this?
You think me mad, your eyes betray you do.
Injurious thought, when I can be so calm.
Nay, I will promise not to think of it.-
No witness apparitional will come,
They that expect such sights amaze themselves
With conjurations of their own conceit.
Come, brother, come. Ah me! why do you weep?
Believ'st thou that our father did the deed,
And that some hideous evidence will come?
O Reginald! But let me dry these tears,
Which so unseemly stand upon thy cheek?
Sweet brother, do!-Hence!-
SCENE III. The Hall of Justice.
The JUDGE, MAGISTRATE, ADVOCATE, GLANVILLE,
ISBEL, and SPECTATORS.
Jud. With calmness now set forth the accusation.
Isb. Nineteen long years ago, and on this day-
The very birth and change-day of the moon,
A day on which, as you came here to-day,
The King's Justiciary open'd the assize ;-
That hollow man of undiscover'd crimes
Did, with au impious and destructive hand,
Make me a widow, ruin'd all my life,
Pluck'd every pleasure of the earth away,
And left me withering, shelterless, and wild,
As the bare tree which heaven's afflicting flash
Has made so hideous and fantastical,
That twilight travellers, as they pass it by,
Are seiz'd with fear, and think unhallow'd things.
Jud. What proof, what witnesses support this charge? Isb. Proofs sent from heaven, and Providence itself.
Every sad morning since the deed was done
I've ta'en my seat near where the trodden grass
With crimson blush reveal'd the secret sin;
And annual as the dismal day came round,
That pensive man, in seeming kind concern
Did visit me, and minister'd soft words,
With frequent gifts, my sorrow to appease.
Why is't, my Lord, that he was thus so kind,
So punctual in his pity?
To the point.
Isb. And ever still, as regularly true
As the great sun adorn'd that morning's sky,
His life was mark'd by some high-priz'd advantage,
Some valued fruitage of prosperity.
But yet, while all his house resounded joy,
Still would he from the festal throng retire,
And come in contrite charity to me.
Was it not strange that he did so, my Lord?
Isb. And still as often as his fortune florish'd, Some new deficiency in life I found.
Adv. Alas! my Lord, how she perverts the signs That Heaven itself gives of his innocence.
Jud. She builds her accusation on the proof Of providential circumstance, and he
Must meet the charge by similar appeal.
Adv. It is insane conceit,
Isb. Yes, the just Heavens by order'd circumstance, Since human demonstration there was none,
Have turn'd the issue of his fortune still,
To draw all eyes to this mysterious day→→
Once on the anniversary of guilt,
That fatal day, a son was born to him,
Yet while the mother weak in anguish lay,
He left her, babe, and garr'lous gossips all,
Rememb'ring me the wretch he made forlorn.
Another time, a kinsman proudly rich,
Whose haughty and unrecognizing eye
Had never glanc'd on him or his, deceas'd,
And made him heir to treasures passing name.
Again upon that day, sequence to wealth,
Came great emblazon'd honors from the King.
Each chance of prosp'rous fortune that he found,
Still on that day befel.
Jud.
Then wherefore, Isbel,
Did you not sooner make this solemn charge?
Isb. In that, my lord, behold how Providence
Doth work its purpose to the destin❜d end.
Still though by custom I was wont to look
With thankful expectation for his coming,
No thought of wrong, not one suspicious thought,
Arose within me till this day of justice.
As I was sitting at the city gate,
When he, with all the honor'd of the town,
Came forth, as ancient custom did require,
To bring you, as the king's vicegerent, in ;-
This day, the only day he e'er neglected
To bring his customary gift and pity ;→
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