singers and prophets of antiquity had such little faith in their own powers that they felt compelled to invoke some great and distant source from which they had come. The knowledge that everything, past and future alike, exists eternally—this was not given to them.
That very interesting mythographer, Mennocchio, suggested that the four elements of the early myths— earth, air, fire and water—were once congealed together in a mass of putrefaction; that the worms who burrowed through it were the angels, and that one of those angels became God. This became known as the ‘wormhole theory’, which prompted much elaborate speculation. It was exceeded in inventiveness only by the story of ‘superstrings’, which can be tentatively dated to the civilisation that first propounded the music of the spheres. These ‘strings’ also appeared in other myths which emphasised the role of harmony and symmetry in the creation of the universe. When such fables were recited to the populace, we may imagine the ritual accompaniment of many instruments. It may seem peculiar to us that our earliest ancestors always looked back to some mythical point of origin, but no doubt our own speculations would have puzzled them. We now realise that creation occurs continually. We are creation. We are the music.
27
Waiter:
Welcome to the museum of noise, sirs. What do you lack?
Madrigal:
What do I lack?
Sparkler:
That was the way people talked. He is asking whether you would prefer wine or coffee.
Madrigal:
Why does he want to give me wine and coffee?
Sparkler:
This is meant to be a coffee-house. It is the custom. Of course you are expected to pay for it.
Madrigal:
Who does he think he is?
Waiter:
Please, citizens, what is it that you lack?
Madrigal:
Yes. I lack a sense of place. Where are we supposed to be?
Waiter:
On the corner of Lombard Street. Just before the Mansion House.
Madrigal:
There is no noise at all. We might as well be in the museum of silence.
Sparkler:
Hush. Can you hear that footstep? Like a heartbeat? Now you can sense the sound of more steps against the stone. Others are joining them.
Madrigal:
They are becoming too loud.
Sparkler:
They are the steps of countless generations.
Madrigal:
Now they grow low and remote.
Sparkler:
It is evening time. Can you hear laughter and conversation at the other tables? And the noises from the kitchen below?
Madrigal:
Is it all real?
Sparkler:
That is not a question anyone can answer.
Madrigal:
I believe that I will have wine, after all. What do you call the young attendant?
Sparkler:
Waiter.
Madrigal:
Waiter! I will pay for wine!
Sparkler:
Good. And now you can tell me about Plato’s oration on Penton Hill.
Madrigal:
Were you not there?
Sparkler:
No. I had been chosen to work.
Madrigal:
Congratulations!
Sparkler:
I was fortunate. But I was sorry to have missed the performance. How did it begin?
Madrigal:
This seat of wood is very hard.
Sparkler:
It will help you to concentrate. Tell me what Plato said.
28
Approximately six hundred years ago a long strip of images, embossed upon some pliable material, was discovered among the ruins of the south bank; they became visible when held in the light, which caused some historians to suggest that they were a form of palpable or concentrated luminescence. Two words have been reconstructed, ‘Hitchcock’ and ‘Frenzy’, but the nature and purpose of the strip are still unclear. We have lit the images in various ways; we have moved them in several directions, and at different speeds, but their meaning remains mysterious.
Even in its incomplete state, however, ‘Hitchcock Frenzy’ is a magnificent discovery, since we soon recognised that the images themselves were representations of Mouldwarp London. Imagine our surprise when we saw the ancient people hastening down their lighted pathways and engaged in ritual action! The first picture was of a stone bridge with a dark tower upon each bank. Surely the river beneath it was
That very interesting mythographer, Mennocchio, suggested that the four elements of the early myths— earth, air, fire and water—were once congealed together in a mass of putrefaction; that the worms who burrowed through it were the angels, and that one of those angels became God. This became known as the ‘wormhole theory’, which prompted much elaborate speculation. It was exceeded in inventiveness only by the story of ‘superstrings’, which can be tentatively dated to the civilisation that first propounded the music of the spheres. These ‘strings’ also appeared in other myths which emphasised the role of harmony and symmetry in the creation of the universe. When such fables were recited to the populace, we may imagine the ritual accompaniment of many instruments. It may seem peculiar to us that our earliest ancestors always looked back to some mythical point of origin, but no doubt our own speculations would have puzzled them. We now realise that creation occurs continually. We are creation. We are the music.
27
Waiter:
Welcome to the museum of noise, sirs. What do you lack?
Madrigal:
What do I lack?
Sparkler:
That was the way people talked. He is asking whether you would prefer wine or coffee.
Madrigal:
Why does he want to give me wine and coffee?
Sparkler:
This is meant to be a coffee-house. It is the custom. Of course you are expected to pay for it.
Madrigal:
Who does he think he is?
Waiter:
Please, citizens, what is it that you lack?
Madrigal:
Yes. I lack a sense of place. Where are we supposed to be?
Waiter:
On the corner of Lombard Street. Just before the Mansion House.
Madrigal:
There is no noise at all. We might as well be in the museum of silence.
Sparkler:
Hush. Can you hear that footstep? Like a heartbeat? Now you can sense the sound of more steps against the stone. Others are joining them.
Madrigal:
They are becoming too loud.
Sparkler:
They are the steps of countless generations.
Madrigal:
Now they grow low and remote.
Sparkler:
It is evening time. Can you hear laughter and conversation at the other tables? And the noises from the kitchen below?
Madrigal:
Is it all real?
Sparkler:
That is not a question anyone can answer.
Madrigal:
I believe that I will have wine, after all. What do you call the young attendant?
Sparkler:
Waiter.
Madrigal:
Waiter! I will pay for wine!
Sparkler:
Good. And now you can tell me about Plato’s oration on Penton Hill.
Madrigal:
Were you not there?
Sparkler:
No. I had been chosen to work.
Madrigal:
Congratulations!
Sparkler:
I was fortunate. But I was sorry to have missed the performance. How did it begin?
Madrigal:
This seat of wood is very hard.
Sparkler:
It will help you to concentrate. Tell me what Plato said.
28
Approximately six hundred years ago a long strip of images, embossed upon some pliable material, was discovered among the ruins of the south bank; they became visible when held in the light, which caused some historians to suggest that they were a form of palpable or concentrated luminescence. Two words have been reconstructed, ‘Hitchcock’ and ‘Frenzy’, but the nature and purpose of the strip are still unclear. We have lit the images in various ways; we have moved them in several directions, and at different speeds, but their meaning remains mysterious.
Even in its incomplete state, however, ‘Hitchcock Frenzy’ is a magnificent discovery, since we soon recognised that the images themselves were representations of Mouldwarp London. Imagine our surprise when we saw the ancient people hastening down their lighted pathways and engaged in ritual action! The first picture was of a stone bridge with a dark tower upon each bank. Surely the river beneath it was
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