University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—The hour just before dawn. The sky dark and troubled. Rising ground on the outskirts of a wood. An altar of fagots, on which lies a white he-goat, its feet bound, and its borns wreathed with flowers. Peleg—Korah—a crowd of Bondsmen.
PELEG.
Wait till the first streaks of the crimson dawn,
The unspeaking heralds of the Lord, announce
He with His hand hath driven away the dark,
And given the daylight leave to move from sleep.
He made the sea, He made the solid land,
He made the clouds, the air, the spreading wrack,
Stars, and the moon, and the unquenchëd light
Of the round-rolling sun. He made them all.
He raised His arm, and lo! the mountains swelled,
Obedient to His drawing. He breathed, and straight
The waters fled before Him, and the torrents,
Following the channels of His glancing eye,
Took their allotted courses. The deep sea
He scooped out with the hollow of His hand,
Then spake, and swift the great waves filled it up,
And took their moaning from His mighty voice.
The valleys were His digging, and the plains
Crouched at His bidding and lay stretchëd out.
He willed it and the waters swarmed with life,
The air flashed dark with pinions, and the earth,
Touched by His finger, teemed with walking things,
Four-footed beasts, and limbs that crawl the ground.
The thunders are His messengers, the clouds
His footstool, and the winds fulfil His word;
And light and darkness, in their changes, are
The awful aspects of His countenance!
Fear then the Lord your God, for He is great,
Encompassing the things He made, and sworn
To be avenged on them that fear Him not. [He pauses and gazes at the eastern sky.

The dawn yet breaks not, for the Lord your God
Is angry with His people. Ye have strayed
Far from His paths, have hearkened not His voice,
And now the earth's foundations are disturbed,
And tremble at His wrath. The tempests wake,
And are grown livid with your wickedness.
Ye have forsaken His commands, and ta'en
The ordinance of man upon your backs,
And builded up yon proud rebellious Tower,
To pry into His secrets, that He hides
Within the dazzling darkness of the Heavens.
I will beseech His mercy, that He stay
The scourge of His right hand, and seek to turn
The straightness of His anger with the smoke
And savour of this whole-burnt-offering.
For He doth love the flesh of kids and goats,
When tendered Him with pure and humble hearts.
But tarries still the dawn, and ye must bide
The lifting of his eyelids.

[He turns away to the altar, and the Bondsmen gather round, Korah and Sidon in their midst.
CROWD OF BONDSMEN.
Korah speaks.
Let us hear Korah; Korah ever leans
Upon the bondsman's side.

KORAH.
Yes, friends! I lean
Towards the feeble and oppressed; and ye
Are crushed like corn, ay, beaten with the flail
Of the oppressor's greed. If ye avert
Your eyes from Heaven, now whither shall ye turn?
The ground is set against you, and the lords
Of the abundant earth begrudge your mouths
The forage for your limbs, and grind you down,
Even as the corn is ground between the stones,
And the stones eat not. Look! I bid ye take
Earth, and Earth's fulness, and the fruits thereof,
Nor from its harvests wish to be estranged.
Ye are Earth's sons, like as your tyrants are,
And, like your tyrants, ye must wring the soil
Till it gives forth its treasures. But whilst Heaven
Stands on your side, with Heaven remain allied,
And listen unto Peleg when he prays.
Hark! he would speak to you again.

[Peleg turns again to the people. As he does so, the first red streaks of dawn appear in the sky, and a crowd of Freemen are seen hurrying up, led by Aran.
PELEG.
Now doth the Lord command His unseen hosts
To strike the tents of darkness, and up-furl
The skirts of night and slumber; and the day
Comes forth apparelled from His glorious hand.
So will we offer now a holocaust,
This ram without a stain, and cry to Him,
To spare His people, even though they have,
Urged by the wicked, planted yon tall Tower
Full in His presence! [The crowd of Bondsmen begin to be agitated, to whisper among themselves, and to turn their eyes in the direction of the rapidly approaching Freemen. Peleg continues.

Hitherward they come,
The wicked who have urged you and have forged
Chains 'gainst the Lord their God, and made ye raise
A rampart for their cunning. But, stand firm,
And put your trust in Him in Whose just sight
Bondsmen are free, freemen are slaves, so these
Rebel against His face, and those obey.

KORAH.
Yes, flinch not, worthy friends! Now is the hour
To rise against your chains and shake them off.
Tower or no Tower, why should ye hew them wood
And draw them water? They have arms like you,
Whilst to your palate, as to theirs, the tongue
Of thirsty aspiration hotly cleaves.
Are ye not flesh and blood? What more are they,
That they should wield the whip, and ye should wince
Beneath its whistling swoop?

[The Freemen rush up, with Aran at their head.
ARAN.
How now, ye slaves!
What mean your truant faces, and from whom
Gat ye this empty-handed leave to-day?
'Tis not the seventh morn, and if it were,
Ye shall not loose your palms without our nod.
A pretty tale! whilst flag the kilns for breath,
And the raw slime in unmixed puddles lies,
To turn your slothful backs upon the Tower,
To pipe and frisk beside a summer wood!
Back to your work, or we will flog you to't!
Who hath begot this mutiny in your hearts,
And moved your slow conceptions to rebel?
Ha! 't must be Korah! For I see his front
Peering above your dwarf and narrow brows.
He hath inspired this monstrous holiday,
To feed you with the wind of your desires,
And blow you out with vanity. [He pushes his way through the Bondsmen, followed by some of his companions, the crowd of Bondsmen being thus split into two parts. As he advances, he perceives Peleg, the altar, and the sacrificial goat.

So! so!
There's more behind this seeming. I was nigh
To striking at the irritating buzz
Of yonder sacerdotal drone, and letting
The nuisance' self to slip away unhurt!
Workers should sting this idle mouth to death,
That feeds on others' honey, and keeps warm
In comfortable cells the rest contrive.
How dar'st thou, busybody priest, draw off
These toilers from their serviceable task,
To figure in thy feeble pantomime?

FREEMEN.
Now stand aside, ye slaves, nor press around,
But give your betters room to speak and hear.

PELEG.
This is the altar of the Lord, and this
The acceptable sacrifice that turns
His edge of wrath aside. We sport not here,
But seek to stay His vengeance from your heads,
Ye with yon godless edifice provoke.

ARAN.
Keep thy celestial fooling for the hours
When we can spare a chorus for the part.
But thus encroach upon life's serious ground,
Soon shall no more thy superstition cheat
The six days of the sixth part of their sweat,
But toil shall seize the seventh!

KORAH.
Hear him, friends!
Your fetters are not tight enough. He burns
To give the shackles yet another twist,
And leave no space betwixt their clutch and you!
Enslaved to earth, ye now must break with Heaven,
Lest that untrusty hope should lead you on
To find allies much nearer in yourselves,
And subtly teach you how to file your gyves,
And face the sun with freedom.

BONDSMEN.
Long live Korah!
Korah, the bondsman's prophet!

ARAN.
Now, enough!
Hence to your hods, your mortar, and your planks,
Ye catch-fly open-mouthëd loons, and 'scape
The scourge that's knotting for you! Ye are dupes;
And dupes may yet be saved from penalty,
So they but retch rogues' poison back again.
As for this mouthing mischief-maker here,
Who fills his belly with the Future till
He cannot see the fresh and wholesome ground,—
Peace, wind-bag!

FREEMEN
Now, ye hounds, will not to work?

BONDSMEN.
No, we will not; nor will be hounded more.
We'll stay to see the he-goat offered up.

SIDON.
Assuage ye both? Why do ye clash your tongues?
Why should ye reck, sirs, if these bondsmen here
Itch for a spectacle, for bondsmen meet?
Or why, ye thoughtless slaves, should ye incense
The hand that flicks the lash? I pray ye both,
Let me make terms between you. Fate is a foe,
That thrives upon men's quarrels. Close your ranks,
And, though ye may not crush your enemy,
Fight not his battles for him. Let me be
Umpire betwixt you!

ARAN.
Tush! Philosopher!
We'll fight with Fate, and them, and thee as well,
Couldst enough wisdom fetch to choose a side,
And cease to make a see-saw of thy wit,
Now up, now down, a child at either end!

FREEMEN.
We will have all: we want no compromise.

BONDSMEN.
Nor umpire, we; for we will give up none.

PELEG
(setting fire to the altar of fagots from below).
The Lord decide between you! for behold
The smoke arises from the ground, and curls
Round and about the ram without a stain.

ARAN.
Sonorous charlatan! Thus do I break
Thy paltry toys!
[He rushes at Peleg, thrusts him aside, and liberates the ram.
Now, drive these stray herds home,
Nor spare the whipcord!

[The Freemen attack the Bondsmen, who snatch up the kindling brands from the altar to defend themselves. Peleg and Sidon retire into different parts of the wood. The Bondsmen are soon disarmed and beaten and fly towards the Tower, followed by Aran and the Freemen, who flog them as they fly. Sidon alone is left upon the ground, where he contemplates the mangled remains of the ram, which has been trampled to death in the fray.