Pasq. And then, when our master is at table with some of these chosen favorites, how he sneers and hints ludicrous things against the American officers and army. One would think he heartily despised them, by his behaviour.
Jeff. And what was it he said of the French the other day? Did he not say they were a perfidious nation of knaves, a herd of needy scoundrels who were endeavoring to conquer this country from the king of Britain, that they might add it to their own dominions and make the people here slaves?
Pasq. And when the general gives a dance or an entertainment or a ball, we see none of the true-heart Americans invited. His guests are a lukewarm, half-disaffected sort of people, who say more than for their own sakes I would choose to mention to everybody.
Jeff. Well, this may all be true, and yet I cannot help thinking our master is a hearty friend to his country. He does these things for a feint, under a mask, as it were, to find out secrets from the enemy. In good faith, I am of opinion he will shortly drive every British soldier off the continent and then become possessed of his Lordship or Manor, or what-so you call it.
Pasq. Amen, I say, and so let us work on in hopes of better times.
Scene II.—Scene changes to New York. Sir Henry Clinton and Major André in a private apartment.
Sir Henry. André, my friend and faithful confidant,
Since Fortune now vouchsafes to smile again,
And stubborn Charlestown bends to Britain's yoke,
What shall we next attempt or next achieve?
I have transmitted home a full account
Of that great capture, that important city
Which long has bid defiance to our arms,
With all particulars and circumstances
Attending on the siege, and in the list
Of British officers with honour mentioned,
You, sir, are not forgot. I must confess,
By your advice I planned that expedition,
Which now shall set me high in royal favor,
By your unconquered spirit and perseverance,
A mind that laughs at toils and difficulties,
I carried on the siege with fire and vigour
Against a foe with hearts of adamant,
And found them to submit—but princely favor
Is like a fire that only burns as long
As you afford it fuel. Before this conquest
Of Charlestown wears away, and hardly leaves
A faint impression on the royal mind,
Let's hatch some great exploit, some daring action
That strikes into the heart of this rebellion,
That one deed, treading on the heels of t'other,
May make us great indeed.
Maj. André. I have been thinking
Some time, Sir Henry, what we should be doing.
'Tis yet but early in the active season;
The summer scarce has finished her career,
And in this mild, this pleasing temperate climate
Three months as yet are open for campaigns;
But then our worn-out, dying, wounded soldiers
Demand our pity. Those who came from Charlestown
Have brought with them a lingering hectic fever
Which hardly one survives. Our soldiers here
Who do the duty of the garrison,
With constant watching, unremitted labor,
Cannot be spared from hence. Were we sufficient
In horse and foot to combat with the foe,
I forthwith would advise your Excellency
Once more to try the force of Washington,
That so, by killing and by captivating
Him and his troops, we totally might ruin
This only stay, this bulwark of rebellion.
But since our circumstances don't allow
With open force t' attack the hostile lines,
Let's try the witching power of bribery.
We read the Prince of Macedon declared
That those strong gates his javelins could not pierce
Nor battering ram effect a breach upon,
Were open still to gold. [Pauses
Sir Henry. Speak on, my friend,
For I approve the motion to my soul
If any project likely to succeed,
Or well-planned scheme thou canst impart to me,
Gold shall not be deficient. Millions lie
Appropriated to this very purpose,
And often have I sent to sound some chiefs
Whose qualities and influence are great
In yonder hostile camp, but their stern souls
Are so well armed with more than Spartan virtue
That there corruption seems to have no power,
And all my schemes and plans are come to nothing.
Maj. André. I know a man
Who, wouldst thou think it, by his chieftain trusted,
And even this moment placed in high command,
And honoured to profusion by his country—
The Americans in truth almost adore him—
That I do correspond with daily. O Britain, Britain,
That one descended from thy true-born sons
Should plot against the soil that gave him birth,
And for the value of a little gold
Betray its dearest rights.
But traitors are the growth of every country
And Arnold is our own!