We spent the watches that remained before nightfall in listening to Dr. Talos chaffer with various officials of the House Absolute, and in rehearsal. Since I have already said something of what it was to act in Dr. Talos's play, I propose to give an approximation of the text here - not as it existed on the fragments of soiled paper we passed from hand to hand that afternoon, which often contained no more than hints for improvisations, but as it might have been recorded by some diligent clerk in the audience; and as it was, in fact, recorded by the demonic witness who dwells behind my eyes.
But first you must visualize our theater. Urth's laboring margin has climbed once more above the red disc; long-winged bats flit overhead, and a green quarter moon hangs low in the eastern sky. Imagine the slightest of valleys, a thousand paces or more from lip to lip, set among the gentlest turf-covered rolling hills. There are doors in these hills, some no wider than the entrance to an ordinary private room, some as wide as the doors of a basilica. These doors are open, and a mist-tinged light spills from them. Flagged paths wind down toward the tiny arch of our proscenium; they are dotted with men and women in the fantastic costumes of a masque - costumes drawn largely from remote ages, so that I, with no more than the smattering of history furnished me by Thecla and Master Palaemon, scarcely recognize one of them. Servants move among these masquers carrying trays loaded with cups and tumblers, heaped with delicious-smelling meats and pastries. Black seats of velvet and ebony, as delicate as crickets, face our stage, but many in the audience prefer to stand, and throughout our performance the spectators come and go without interruption, many remaining to hear no more than a dozen lines. Hylas sing in the trees, the nightingales trill, and atop the hills the walking statues move slowly through many poses. All the parts in the play are taken by Dr. Talos, Baldanders, Dorcas, Jolenta, or me.
Chapter 24
DR. TALOS'S PLAY
ESCHATOLOGY AND GENESIS
Being a dramatization (as he claimed) of certain parts of the lost Book of the New Sun
Persons in the Play:
Gabriel
The Giant Nod
Meschia, the First Man
Meschiane, the First Woman
Jahi
The Autarch
The Contessa
Her Maid
Two Soldiers
A Statue
A Prophet
The Generalissimo
Two Demons (disguised)
The Inquisitor
His Familiar
Angelic Beings
The New Sun
The Old Sun
The Moon
The back of the stage is dark.
GABRIEL appears bathed in golden light and carrying a crystal clarion.
GABRIEL: Greetings. I have come to set the scene for you - after all, that is my function. It is the night of the last day, and the night before the first. The Old Sun has set. He will appear in the sky no more. Tomorrow the New Sun will rise, and my siblings and I will greet him. Tonight . . . tonight no one knows. Everyone sleeps.
Footsteps, heavy and slow. Enter NOD.
GABRIEL: Omniscience! Defend your servant!
NOD: Do you serve him? So do we Nephilim. I will not harm you, then, unless he suggests it.
GABRIEL: You are of his household? How does he communicate with you?
NOD: To tell the truth, he doesn't. I'm forced to guess at what he wishes me to do.
GABRIEL: I was afraid of that.
NOD: Have you seen Meschia's son?
GABRIEL: Have I seen him? Why, you great ninny, he isn't even born yet. What do you want with him?
NOD: He is to come and dwell with me, in my land east of this garden. I will give him one of my daughters to wife.
GABRIEL: You have the wrong creation, my friend - you're fifty million years too late.
NOD: (Nods slowly, not understanding.) If you should see him -
Enter MESCHIA and MESCHIANE, with JAHI following. All are naked, but JAHI wears jewelry.
MESCHIA: What a lovely place! Delightful! Flowers, fountains, and statues - isn't it wonderful?
MESCHIANE: (Timidly.) I saw a tame tiger with fangs longer than my hand. What shall we call him?
MESCHIA: Whatever he wants. (To GABRIEL:) Who owns this beautiful spot?
GABRIEL: The Autarch.
MESCHIA: And he permits us to live here. That's very gracious of him.
GABRIEL: Not exactly. There's someone following you, my friend. Do you know it?
MESCHIA: (Not looking.) There's something behind you too.
GABRIEL: (Flourishing the clarion that is his badge of office.) Yes, He is behind me!
MESCHIA: Close, too. If you're going to blow that horn to call help, you'd better do it now.
GABRIEL: Why, how perceptive of you. But the time is not quite ripe. The golden light fades, and GABRIEL vanishes from the stage. NOD remains motionless, leaning on his club.
MESCHIANE: I'll start a fire, and you had better begin to build us a house. It must rain often here - see how green the grass is.
MESCHIA: (Examining NOD.) Why, it's only a statue. No wonder he wasn't afraid of it.
MESCHIANE: It might come to life. I heard something once about raising sons from stones.
MESCHIA: Once! Why you were only born just now. Yesterday, I think.
MESCHIANE: Yesterday! I don't remember it . . . I'm such a child, Meschia. I don't remember anything until I walked out into the light and saw you talking to a sunbeam.
MESCHIA: That wasn't a sunbeam! It was . . . to tell the truth, I haven't thought of a name for what it was yet.
MESCHIANE: I fell in love with you then. Enter the AUTARCH.
AUTARCH: Who are you?
MESCHIA: As far as that goes, who are you?
AUTARCH: The owner of this garden.
MESCHIA bows, and MESCHIANE curtsies, though she has no skirt to hold.
MESCHIA: We were speaking to one of your servants only a moment ago. Now that I come to think of it, I am astonished at how much he resembled your august Self. Save that he was . . . ah . . .
AUTARCH: Younger?
MESCHIA: In appearance, at least.
AUTARCH: Well, it is inevitable, I suppose. Not that I am attempting to excuse it now. But I was young, and though it would be better to confine oneself to women nearer one's own station, still there are times - as you would understand, young man, if you had ever been in my position - when a little maid or country girl, who can be wooed with a handful of silver or a bolt of velvet, and will not demand, at the most inconvenient moment, the death of some rival or an ambassadorship for her husband . . . Well, when a little person like that becomes a most enticing proposition.
While the AUTARCH has been speaking, JAHI has been creeping up behind MESCHIA. Now she lays a hand on his shoulder.
JAHI: Now you see that he, whom you have esteemed your divinity, would countenance and advise all I have proposed of you. Before the New Sun rises, let us make a new beginning.
AUTARCH: Here's a lovely creature. How is it, child, that I see the bright flames of candles reflected in each eye, while your sister there still puffs cold tinder?
JAHI: She is no sister of mine!
AUTARCH: Your adversary then. But come with me. I will give these two my leave to camp here, and you shall wear a rich gown this night, and your mouth shall run with wine, and that slender figure shall be rendered a shade less graceful, perhaps, by larks stuffed with almonds and candied figs.