University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

The edge of a wood. A cottage in the distance. Enter Robert Warren, Osborne, and Harry Matthews. The former disguised with false hair, whiskers, &c.
Matthews.
[pointing to cottage.]
Look!—you may see it now!

Warren.
There, then, he harbors?
A goodly cottage—he's a man of taste,
Not yet too old for sentiment, it seems;
Loves flowers and shade trees, and around his porches
I fancy that we see some gadding tendrils,
That wanton, with full censers, in his homage!
He should be happy there!

Matthews.
Why, so he is.

Warren.
You think so?

Matthews.
There's every thing to make him so. He's young—
Is on the road to fortune and to fame,
And has a handsome wife.

Warren.
The landscape's fair,—
Looks bright beneath the sunshine and exhales
A thousand delicate odors rich in life;
But, sometimes, there's a tempest in the night,
And where's your landscape then?

Matthews.
Be this his case,
It shall not cost me one poor hour of sleep,
For all the coil it makes. This man's our foe,—
Goes with our enemies in politics,
And will, though now he knows it not himself,
Be run, against our crack man, for the Senate.

Warren.
Who's he?

Matthews.
Ben Ferguson.

Warren.
Plain Ben?

Matthews.
Colonel Ben!
'Tis only when the man's a favorite,
We take the formal handle from his name
And sing it short for sweetness.

Warren.
Is he able?

Matthews.
We thought him so till this your Maurice came;—
Since then our favorite loses in the race.
Ben is a lawyer in first practice here
And had the field to himself since I have known him,
Till now—

Osborne.
Maurice and he have grappled then?

Matthews.
To Ferguson's defeat.

Osborne.
Before the jury?

Matthews.
Ay, every way—before the judge and jury,—
In court and out of court. At public meetings
They were in opposite ranks, and, with each issue,
Maurice hath risen still in popular favor,
While Ferguson declines. It will rejoice us,
If, as you say, you have some history
To floor this powerful foe!

Warren.
You need not doubt it.
But who are friends to Maurice, here,—the people?

Matthews.
Were it the people only, it were nothing.
They have not yet arisen to self-esteem,
And, kept full fed on vanity, are heedless,
Hugging their shadows, how they lose the substance.
Here, all their sympathies are held by others;
Men of much wealth and some ability,
Who, gladly, in this Maurice find an ally,
And join with him to use him. There's a party
Who long have lacked a leader. Norman Maurice
Brings them the head they seek. He guides their councils,
And, with such prudent skill and policy,
That still they fancy he is but their mouth-piece,
Even while he gives the breath of life to them.
I know that they will run him for the Senate.

Warren.
Can they elect him?

Matthews.
It is somewhat doubtful.
They never yet succeeded with their man,
Not having had the man to make success.
What they can do for him is not the question,
So much as what he may achieve for them.
I tell you, though not fearful for the issue,
It makes us something anxious. Now,—this secret—
If it be true, indeed, that,—

Warren.
Be you ready;—
I'll see your friends to-morrow. We'll sleep on it.
To-night, I'll fathom Maurice if I can,
And see how he enjoys his Western life.
Enough! I have him in my power! To-morrow!—

Matthews.
But what's the secret?

Warren.
It will keep till then.
Be sure, that when your game is to be play'd—
When Norman Maurice, at the height of favor,
Waits but the will to rise up Senator—
A single word shall damn him down to ruin,
And stifle every voice that shouts his name.

Osborne.
Yet, once more, Warren, ere it be too late,
Let me entreat and counsel—

Warren.
You are doting!
Go you with Matthews, and, should I be missing,
You both can tell whither my steps were bent,
And what my power upon him.

Osborne.
[aside to W.]
Why incur
This danger,—for you too must see the danger,—
To feed this foolish malice?

Warren.
[aside to O.]
Is it foolish?—
Not when the profit's yours, the pleasure mine;—
And I, if fortune mocks me not with fancies,
Shall find a pleasure in the game I play at,
That you may never dream of! Be you easy—
There's little danger! I've securities
'Gainst him in you, and in his secret fears,
Not less than in the policy I use;
Besides, my habit, does it not disguise me?

Osborne.
He has the eye of an eagle!

Warren.
Pshaw!

Osborne.
Beware!—
His genius—you yourself confess it, Warren—
Hath always, when the final issue came,
Soar'd over you triumphant!

Warren.
Oh! Good night.
We'll meet again to-morrow!
[Exit Warren.

Osborne.
He'll pay for it!
He runs on ruin!

Matthews.
Not his own, methinks!

Osborne.
His own, though now it seems not. I've an instinct
That tells me Maurice cannot be o'erthrown.
Baffled he may be;—you may torture him—
Deny him his just place and high position,
One or more seasons; but he'll rise at last,
So firmly, that the very hands that struggle
To tear him from his throne, will help to build it.
There are some men to whom the fates decree
Performance,—and this man is one of them!
What was his prospect when I knew him first?
He had no friends,—he had no fellowships,
No heedful care of parents—no tuition;—
He stood alone i' the world—unknown, unhonor'd—
Nay, something hated, as I hap to know,
For that he had some innate qualities,
Of pride, of strength, of soul and character,
That would not let him stoop! In spite of all,
He hath struggled through the strife and the obstruction;
Won friends; won homage; high position won;
And still hath grown, the more erect and noble,
At each assault upon his pride and fortune!
I feel that he must triumph!

Matthews.
You speak well,
The promise of our enemy! You differ,
Somewhat, from Robert Warren; yet, you know
This secret.

Osborne.
Ay—as Warren's; and I know,
The rise of Maurice is his overthrow!

[Exeunt.