 | Washington |  |
Scene 2.
A Chamber. Patrick Henry and Washington.Patrick Henry.
We can rejoice together, General,
That our own dear Virginia joined the league,
Albeit at bloody cost already;—Norfolk,
That loyal town of peaceful homes, burnt down
By the cold cowardly despot Lord Dunmore,
Who hiding on a man-of-war in the roads
Dared thus to cannonade us!—O King George,
If Cæsar had his Brutus, Charles his Cromwell,
'Twere well you—profited—I say no more—
By such examples.
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This is saddening news;—
Friend, I have more to make me sorrowful.
New York is falling away; Connecticut
Is wearying as half-hearted in the cause,
Her levies at our need deserting us
Even by battalions,—they had served their year
And must get home they say,—let others fight!
O Sir, my soul has groaned, where are the men
With whom I must defend America?—
The weight of care lies heavy on my heart
Shamed by desertions, vexed with meannesses,
The jealousy of Congress and the taunts
Even of brother soldiers slandering me.
Patrick Henry.
I hear that General Lee has brought a charge
Of sloth, incompetence, I know not what—
Washington.
O Sir, the worst afflictions of a man
Come from false friends, envious competitors
Whispering detraction in a private sense,
More than from public foes: I can endure
Defeat, but not defection; all the toils,
Perils and open accidents of war,
But not the secret jealousies of peace.
They thwart me, doubt me, misinterpret me,
Maligning all that's done, and left undone.
I may stand up serene, but feel it still.
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For climax, Colonel Reed, your secretary,
Stings you, 'tis said, with slander.
Washington.
Yes,—I know it;
Pass him; forget it all, I can forgive,
I will not even let him know I know it:
Trust me,—and let me drop it lightly thus,
As not to be down-tilted by a reed.
Patrick Henry.
Cheerfully taken: the well balanced mind
However hemmed by adverse circumstance
As in a labyrinth of cactus hedges
Is always happy in itself, at peace
And ready thus to beat down to its will
The thorns of still opposing circumstance.
We count and call you, George, our Fabius,
Winning by patience what with all your skill,
With all your courage, hangs still in the balance
Unwon, and not to be won, save by waiting:
In war, in peace, the name of Washington
Lives in all hearts and dwells upon all tongues,
At once our Fabius and our Hannibal.
Washington.
Peace, friend, no praising; any speech but that:
The man who knows himself can bear reproach
Better than flattery: do I call you flatterer?
Forgive me this sharp word, dear Patrick Henry,—
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Are yours for so much love, suffer my foes
To speak their thoughts of me for good or evil:
Cæsar and Curtius are my teachers here;
A man is nothing if he has no foes,
Nothing, if slander, ridicule, contempt
Are not the frequent scorpions in his path;
Can he have lived a life of faithfulness
Of earnest work for good, and have escaped
Hatred from wickedness, or scorn from folly?
No,—there are serpents still hissing before him:
Let him march on, as duty bids, unfearing,
And trample out their poison as he goes;
Let him march on, heedless of praise and censure,
Living alone for conscience and for God,
And he shall make his veriest foes his friends.
I have stood up well nigh alone thou knowest,
Daring impossibles to save the state,
That scarce will let me save it; thus I reap
The tares of slander sown by factious tongues.
But—I must leave you: I have much to do
And little time for speech.
Exit.
Patrick Henry.
Farewell, great heart:
The Saul and the Musæus of our millions.
A nobler spirit never breathed in man;
Thoughtful for others, and forgetting self,
Dauntless in danger, yet so meek withal;
Calm amid calumnies, and flatteries;
Strengthened through failure, humbled by success.
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Chivalric wise and pious and serene,
The pinnacle of human excellence.
Yes,—I have noted him from earliest youth
And marvelled to what great and lofty ends
The hand of Providence was training him.
He was our Moses in the wilderness
Inured to savage warfare, and prepared
Through perils multitudinous to lead
This people to their Canaan of the West:
And when Monongahela's bloody swamp
Proved gallant Braddock's grave, young Washington
Screened by the Manitou himself, they said,
Alone stood victor on that fatal field;
And ever since the same impetuous soul,
Calm, truthful, bold, upright, and self-reliant,
That dwells within his tall athletic frame
Has marked him out to all a chief of men
Fitted and trained to his high destiny,
The first in peace and war, first everywhere,
First in the hearts of all his countrymen.
Exit.
| Washington | |