sky opens, and Europe is disclosed as a prone and
emaciated figure, the Alps shaping like a backbone, and the branching
mountain-chains like ribs, the peninsular plateau of Spain forming a
head. Broad and lengthy lowlands stretch from the north of France
across Russia like a grey-green garment hemmed by the Ural
mountains and the glistening Arctic Ocean.
The point of view then sinks downwards through space, and draws near
to the surface of the perturbed countries, where the peoples, distressed
by events which they did not cause, are seen writhing, crawling,
heaving, and vibrating in their various cities and nationalities.]
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS (to the Spirit of the Pities)
As key-scene to the whole, I first lay bare The Will-webs of thy fearful
questioning; For know that of my antique privileges This gift to
visualize the Mode is one (Though by exhaustive strain and effort only).
See, then, and learn, ere my power pass again.
[A new and penetrating light descends on the spectacle, enduring men
and things with a seeming transparency, and exhibiting as one
organism the anatomy of life and movement in all humanity and
vitalized matter included in the display.]
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
Amid this scene of bodies substantive Strange waves I sight like winds
grown visible, Which bear men's forms on their innumerous coils,
Twining and serpenting round and through. Also retracting threads like
gossamers-- Except in being irresistible-- Which complicate with some,
and balance all.
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
These are the Prime Volitions,--fibrils, veins, Will-tissues, nerves, and
pulses of the Cause, That heave throughout the Earth's compositure.
Their sum is like the lobule of a Brain Evolving always that it wots not
of; A Brain whose whole connotes the Everywhere, And whose
procedure may but be discerned By phantom eyes like ours; the while
unguessed Of those it stirs, who (even as ye do) dream Their motions
free, their orderings supreme; Each life apart from each, with power to
mete Its own day's measures; balanced, self complete; Though they
subsist but atoms of the One Labouring through all, divisible from none;
But this no further now. Deem yet man's deeds self-done.
GENERAL CHORUS OF INTELLIGENCES (aerial music)
We'll close up Time, as a bird its van, We'll traverse Space, as spirits
can, Link pulses severed by leagues and years, Bring cradles into touch
with biers; So that the far-off Consequence appear Prompt at the heel of
foregone Cause.-- The PRIME, that willed ere wareness was, Whose
Brain perchance is Space, whose Thought its laws, Which we as
threads and streams discern, We may but muse on, never learn.
END OF THE FORE SCENE
ACT FIRST
SCENE I
ENGLAND. A RIDGE IN WESSEX
[The time is a fine day in March 1805. A highway crosses the ridge,
which is near the sea, and the south coast is seen bounding the
landscape below, the open Channel extending beyond.]
SPIRITS OF THE YEARS
Hark now, and gather how the martial mood Stirs England's humblest
hearts. Anon we'll trace Its heavings in the upper coteries there.
SPIRIT SINISTER
Ay; begin small, and so lead up to the greater. It is a sound dramatic
principle. I always aim to follow it in my pestilences, fires, famines,
and other comedies. And though, to be sure, I did not in my Lisbon
earthquake, I did in my French Terror, and my St. Domingo burlesque.
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
THY Lisbon earthquake, THY French Terror. Wait. Thinking thou
will'st, thou dost but indicate.
[A stage-coach enters, with passengers outside. Their voices after the
foregoing sound small and commonplace, as from another medium.]
FIRST PASSENGER
There seems to be a deal of traffic over Ridgeway, even at this time o'
year.
SECOND PASSENGER
Yes. It is because the King and Court are coming down here later on.
They wake up this part rarely! . . . See, now, how the Channel and coast
open out like a chart. That patch of mist below us is the town we are
bound for. There's the Isle of Slingers beyond, like a floating snail.
That wide bay on the right is where the "Abergavenny," Captain John
Wordsworth, was wrecked last month. One can see half across to
France up here.
FIRST PASSENGER
Half across. And then another little half, and then all that's behind--the
Corsican mischief!
SECOND PASSENGER
Yes. People who live hereabout--I am a native of these parts--feel the
nearness of France more than they do inland.
FIRST PASSENGER
That's why we have seen so many of these marching regiments on the
road. This year his grandest attempt upon us is to be made, I reckon.
SECOND PASSENGER
May we be ready!
FIRST PASSENGER
Well, we ought to be. We've had alarms enough, God knows.
[Some companies of infantry are seen ahead,
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