University of Virginia Library

Scene II.—Noon. The Revolutionary Camp. Within the Tent of Panurge. Citizens armed, standing sentry. Shouting without.
Panurge
(entering the tent).
(The Modern Brutus enters with the Novice.)

Brutus.
Ay.

Panurge.
Dost thou know Lord Orval?

Novice.
Know him? Yes,
By sight, great Citizen. He once spoke to me.

Panurge.
In truth? what said he?

Novice.
At the Church door once,
Meaning no harm, I brusht him as I pass'd.
He turn'd, and kick'd me, adding, with an oath,
“Out of my way, hound!” I have made a rope
To hang him with. 'Tis ever in my pocket.

Panurge.
To-morrow thou wilt go to him, at daybreak:
And say to him that I intend to see him;
That I will visit him at midnight, tell him,
Alone—in private—without witnesses.

Novice.
Citizen General, how many men
Do you propose to give me?

Panurge.
Not a man.

Novice.
There will be danger. With no escort ...

Panurge.
Man,
Thine escort is Panurge's name. Alone
Thou must approach him.

Novice.
I obey.

Panurge.
And tell him,
For certain, that to-morrow—at midnight—
I shall be with him.

Novice.
And if he should hang me?

Panurge.
Thou wilt have had the honour, then, to perish
A martyr to the People's Cause.

Novice.
Long live
The People's Cause! .. (The devil take 'em all!)

Panurge.
And now good day, good Citizen. Depart.
Forget not.

Novice.
Citizen General, I obey.

(Exit.)
Brutus.
Why these half measures, these delays, Panurge?
Or to what end these midnight meetings with
The People's foes? these parleyings with a man
Like Orval? Had I but thy sanction then
When I besought it, Orval at this hour
Had not been living. And that snare of thine
To catch him flying hath fail'd egregiously.
Flight? he is in the field against us now,
First, foremost, and sole formidable foe!
Panurge, when I vow'd to follow thee,
To admire thee, to obey thee—when I made
Thee master of my mind,—it was because
I then believed thee master of thine own:
A man of keen eye and sure hand: a man
Of one aim, and one blow.

Panurge.
Peace, prattler, peace!

Brutus.
All is in readiness. The arms are forged,
The cannon cast, the powder magazined,
And the battalions drill'd, and the lists drawn.
Our troops wait only for the word to move.
The lightnings and the thunders of our power
Vibrate impatient in thy slack right hand.
Speak the word only, and the thunder falls.

Panurge.
Rash boy! thy hot brain and o'erweening youth
Know not the majesty of restraint. Mistake not
Impulse for power.

Brutus.
Nay, think, Panurge! think!
Already these amazed aristocrats
Terrified, trembling, fly like a tame herd
That scents the unseen lion. Abandoning
To desolation their doom'd palaces,
And paper-palisaded castles all,
They have assembled their unscatter'd strengths
In the firm-mason'd Fastness of St. John.
We with our legions need but flood the land
To overwhelm them in their last retreat.
Our dogs might in a day destroy such rabbits
In such a warren. Give the word.

Panurge.
Not yet.
What need of haste? Their doom is sure. Effete
Both morally and physically, weak
Old toothless lapdogs whelp'd by Luxury,
Nature, the hardy mother of brave men,
Spurns them with loathing from her wholesome lap.
And, whether it be to-morrow or to-day
That we exterminate the litter, boy,
It matters not the weight of a hair. Go to.
I know my hour.

Brutus.
What daunts thee, then?

Panurge.
Nought daunts me.
I am but the Doomsman. Nature is the Judge.

Brutus.
Albeit, when Nature's voice cries to thee “Strike!”
What stays thy laggard hand thus?

Panurge.
Mine own will:
Thy master, Lucius, Junius, Brutus.

Brutus.
Psha!
Thy will? who knows? Thy whim, more like. And I,
Whose hand hath smitten upon their guilty thrones
The consecrated tyrannies of time,
Whose knee was never crook'd to man or God,
Who fear no consequence, and spare no foe,
Am I to follow blindly the blind guidance
Of thy dark brain?

Panurge.
Blindly. It is thine oath.

Brutus.
Thou art betraying us, Panurge!

Panurge.
Tush!
Mistrust is the hobgoblin of weak minds.
For there where ignorance doth a darkness make,
Any old broomstick serves to make a fear.
But have a care. Speak not so loud, young man.
Some of my folk might hear thee.

Brutus.
Of thy folk?
Our folk! We have no spies here. And what then?
My speech is my true heart's ambassador
That scorns disguise, and boldly goes his way
To challenge Falsehood where he finds her. Man,
What if our folk do hear my voice?

Panurge.
(With sudden tenderness).

Brutus
(with emotion).
Pardon! I forgot myself.
But (earnestly), Chief, I fear not death in any form.
And if my death be necessary, if
My death can help or serve the People's Cause,
Serve only, even, for salutary example,
Speak! I am ready to die.

Panurge.
(An ardent mind!
This man believes and hopes. It is a pity
That such a happy man should ever die.
Earth hath too few of his thrice fortunate kind,
And cannot profitably spare what she
So rarely is possest of.) Boy, think more.
Speak less. Grow older. Live. And in good time
Thou wilt be able to understand ... Delay.
Are the new cartridges distributed?

Brutus.
Yes.

Panurge.
Dost thou know no more of this Lord Orval?

Brutus.
No. Why? In truth, I care to know no more
Than is already known of that bad man.

Panurge.
He hath assembled all his vassals. And they
Are faithful to him. They believe in him.
They follow him, and still look up to him.

Brutus.
A handful of born slaves! It is in us,
Faith's true force is incarnate.

Panurge.
I would see him—
With mine own eyes ... hear him—with mine own ears—
Not thine ... and read the soul of this strange man.
Too proud he is! too proud. Pride must be humbled.
He should be one of Us.

Brutus.
He? One of us?
He, the aristocrat!

Panurge.
No. He, the poet.
You understand not. Leave me.

Brutus.
Am I pardon'd,
Citizen General?

Panurge.
Boy, wert thou not ... But go!
Leave me. Thy life belongs to the Good Cause.
I charge thee keep it safe. Boy, thine own hand
Shall plant the People's Flag upon the towers
And rooftops of the Fastness of St John.
Now leave me.

Brutus
(going).
Truly, he is a great man.
How could I doubt him? Out, base heart!

(Exit).
Panurge
(alone).
Ay, Orval!
It must be with mine own eyes only, and only
In thine own face, that I the riddle read
Writ by the Destinies for thee and me.
Strange, that this man, alone of all the world,
Dares to resist me! What, compared to mine,
Is this man's strength? Nothing, It cannot weigh
A dozen grains of sand i' the scale. Some few
Raw boors, and stupid serfs, that follow yet
The blazoned boast of his affronting flag,
With that blind instinct of fidelity
That's ever in tame creatures. Nothing more.
Why do I wish to see, to hold discourse
With this one man? Hath my own spirit now been
Confronted, for the first time, with its peer?
Perchance its rival? ... I must crush—shall crush him.
But then? ... O thou mysterious Power of Thought,
That in me sittest, weaving webs to catch
The buzzing folly of this brief fly, man!
Easier shalt thou deceive all human kind
Than thine own self. What? Art thou not the thought
Of earth's unthinking millions? the bright soul
O' the brute material multitude? And thou,
Doubtest thou of thyself? What were but crime
In others, is, in thee, completed law,
Power fulfill'd and perfect. Thou hast given
A name to nameless masses of mankind,
A language to dumb droves of beasts of burden,
A soul to soulless human engines,—call'd
Forth out of formless chaos, and created
A whole world's manifest fabric in the form
And image of thyself, and breathed into it
A motion and a light. But thou thyself,
O soul, what art thou? shapeless? doubting? dark?
Uncertain of the goal to which thou goest?
Nay then, I swear it, soul, thou art sublime!