THIRD PASSENGER
Damn my wig, sir, if I’ll be called a traitor by you or any Court
sycophant at all at all!
[He unpacks a case of pistols.]
SECOND PASSENGER
Gentlemen forbear, forbear! Should such differences be suffered to
arise on a spot where we may, in less than three months, be fighting
for our very existence? This is foolish, I say. Heaven alone, who
reads the secrets of this man’s heart, can tell what his meaning and
intent may be, and if his letter has been answered wisely or no.
[The coach is stopped to skid the wheel for the descent of the
hill, and before it starts again a dusty horseman overtakes it.]
SEVERAL PASSENGERS
A London messenger! [To horseman] Any news, sir? We are from
Bristol only.
HORSEMAN
Yes; much. We have declared war against Spain, an error giving
vast delight to France. Bonaparte says he will date his next
dispatches from London, and the landing of his army may be daily
expected.
[Exit horseman.]
THIRD PASSENGER
Sir, I apologize. He’s not to be trusted! War is his name, and
aggression is with him!
[He repacks the pistols. A silence follows. The coach and
passengers move downwards and disappear towards the coast.]
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
Ill chanced it that the English monarch George
Did not respond to the said Emperor!
SPIRIT SINISTER
I saw good sport therein, and paean’d the Will
To unimpel so stultifying a move!
Which would have marred the European broil,
And sheathed all swords, and silenced every gun
That riddles human flesh.
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
O say no more;
If aught could gratify the Absolute
’Twould verily be thy censure, not thy praise!
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
The ruling was that we should witness things
And not dispute them. To the drama, then.
Emprizes over-Channel are the key
To this land’s stir and ferment.—Thither we.
[Clouds gather over the scene, and slowly open elsewhere.]