SCENE I.
A small room, sparsely furnished, in the Prison of Grillaway. The room is the cell of a first class misdemeanant. The windows are barred and look out on to exercising ground, which is surrounded by high walls. The cell in question is that of Vergli, who is confined therein.
Vergli, Solus: “Saxscober a free country? No, indeed! A slave of mummified and ancient laws, Created by the undeveloped brains Of men emerging from the feudal state. Must Evolutionism be controlled By relics of a past barbaric age, When human beings had no right to think And fashioned rules to suit their daily needs? What right have dead men to control us now? Must we be governed by their narrow vision? Shall rotten laws be solely the support Of an increasing substance, whose new needs Require the nourishment of true reform? Oh! prison bars, ye gaolers mute and dumb, Guess ye the torture which consumes my soul, Longing for freedom, longing for the pow’r To strike to earth Injustice and Untruth, And raise upon their ruins fairer scenes? Alas! for Evolutionism, who Will keep our party solid? Who will lead, Now I am a caged pris’ner in this hole? Scrutus and Verita will do their best, Good faithful hearts, yet lacking influence, And minus that great pow’r which can enthuse And weld together diff’rent characters. Well, I must seek to use the pow’r of Thought, And draw towards me that which my heart loves, Isola, can I make thee think of me? Can I enthuse thee to take Vergli’s place? The people love thee, thou can’st lead them well, If thou wilt take the lead, I have no fear. Isola, thou whom this lone heart adores, Although thou can’st not love me in return, Thy heart being wedded to Escanior, Wilt thou not fill the place I cannot fill? See, I will waft to thee intense desire, And by the force of thought fill up thy soul With the ambitions influencing me.”
He seats himself as he speaks, and leaning his head in his hand, seeks to attract Isola to think of him and take up his cause by stepping into the breach which he has been forced to abandon. Suddenly he looks up, and intense relief is in his face as he exclaims: “A great calm fills my soul. I seem to hear The whisper of an inward voice, which says: ‘Vergli, fear not, Isola fills the breach And will uphold your cause till you are free.’ Is it a dream or glad reality? I feel it is the latter. As my thought Has sped into the mind of Isola, So has hers come to mine and brought me cheer, And filled my spirit with intense relief. Oh! Thought so wonderful, which has evolved A mind from matter and, endowed with life By this same matter, can magnetic-like Attract to us flashes of hidden things, As thou increasest in us, wilt thou not Vibrate into us knowledge now unknown, Knowledge of space and of infinity, Of what has been, and of what is to be, By some attractive force whose law is vague And still quite undeveloped in our minds, Yet, all the same, a law as positive As that great law which rules the Universe? If this attractive law can magnetise Mind unto mind, will it not magnetise Those hidden facts which, still unknown, ne’erless Are facts which Thought will some day penetrate And draw into our minds, thus fashioning A knowledge now unrealised, unknown. Yes, mighty, energetic, living Force— Give it what name you will, it matters not— Thy pow’r will wax so great within our brains As to attract to us that which we seek. As Thought meets Thought, or draws it from afar, As I have drawn the thought of Isola, So shall this unseen, veiled, but true reality Conquer the secrets of the Universe And give Materialists the light they need. Develop it, all scientific men! It is as much a substance, though unseen, As any of the unseen substances Which influence Creation’s mighty laws. Have you not studied much those things we see, And drawn conclusions from the truths unveiled? Go, study now the Unseen, cultivate That undeveloped faculty, whose sight Will penetrate the mysteries of Life And open up the mists enshrouding death. Oh! learned men, how unlearned yet ye are. ‘What! Thought a substance?’ sneeringly you ask. ‘I think it is,’ all humbly I reply, ‘It is a thing which, though unseen, vibrates With delicate pulsation all its own. Thought is the substance which shall solve the past And open wide the future to our eyes.’ Yes, Isola, my soul no longer fears, I feel that thou, attracted by this force, Wilt do as I desire and do it well. A woman who has buried Superstition And scorned to make herself the slave of Man, Albeit she is his loving friend and mate, Can lead and will lead on Humanity To win its freedom, and to recreate Noble conditions, elevating all By evolutionary principles. I feel thy answer to my mute appeal Circling around me like a soft, soft wind, Caressing with kind kiss my anxious brain And soothing it as sleep lulls tired thought. For thought being real and not imaginary, A substance not a shadow, form unseen Of ethereal property, can tire and hang Limp and all unemotional at times, Or dulled by over-use of its great pow’r Which sleep and rest restore unfailingly. My thanks Isola. From afar thy thoughts Have come to cheer me in my prison cell, My soul’s at peace. I hear thy whispered words ‘I come, Vergli, fear not, All shall be well.’”
Enter a Warder. “Your pardon, Sir, your lawyer’s clerk is here, He bears an order of admittance, too— Is it your pleasure I should show him in? He bade me say his mission was of note, Requiring your immediate attention.”
Vergli. “Pray show him in, my friend; I’ll see him now, ’Tis not so lively here that I should shun Or shirk communion with a fellow man, Even although it be a lawyer’s clerk, Whose visits mean a bill of long proportions, When that which he may do, or may not do, Is done or left undone. Oft’ner the last! Methinks if we paid by results, the Clique Known as solicitors and barristers Would find their present lucrative profession, Somewhat the contrary! ‘No fish; no pay,’ Would make these gentlemen a bit more keen And less inclined to pile up the expenses! Poor Vergli! But for thee, kind Isola, He could not have engaged the services Of one of these noteworthy gentlemen, To pick his pocket so to line his own! However, here he comes. I will attend And learn the purport of his mission here. Good evening, Sir. Vergli you wish to see? He am I, and the Prince of Scota, too.”
[Enter Maxim disguised as a Solicitor’s Clerk.
Warder. “I’ll leave you to yourselves. A Trinity Is rarely company, and often breeds That most ungainly infant, Controversy. Ring, when you have adjusted your affairs.”
Maxim. “Hist! Vergli; I am Maxim. Have a care. Ears are awake and eyes wide open, too. Secrets are not well kept in prison walls, There are too many listeners about. In a few days your trial will take place, Counsel is offered by the Government; Your grave Solicitor refused, howe’er, And said that ‘Vergli would defend himself.’ I just think that he will, and rightly, too; For one speech from his lips is worth ten score Of speeches from the windbags of the bar, Who set much store upon their oratory— Pricing it highly, changing briefs to gold And turning inside out their clients’ pockets.”
Vergli (laughing): “’Tis true, young clerk. Society’s odd ways Are manifold; but, all drift down the tide Whereon the bark of Might o’er-rides poor Right Seated in her frail skiff, and runs her down. ‘Out of my Way!’ cries Might. ‘Am I not large? Are you not frail and of no consequence? The weak should die, the strong alone prevail And Might rule over Right.’ This is the law, Or rather as it is administered. And how can it be ever otherwise, Until to Earth we strike the selfish creed, Which prating loud a few great Moral Truths, Forthwith defies them, and sets up a reign Of Superstition and of Mummery? Then, when men like myself would strike it down And change those civil laws which owe their birth To priestcraft and religious tyranny, Who in the past were Sires of many sins, They are cast into prison instantly And doomed therein to waste Life’s precious days. Oh! when will Man learn to be kind to Man And practise brotherhood throughout the world?”
Maxim. “Not yet awhile; but some day it will come, As sure as Night comes after Day, and Day Follows on Night, ever unerringly. But, Vergli, you’ll prepare your own defence, Although I fear nothing will clear your crime; The Ardrigh knows acquittal means his doom, And ev’ry influence which he commands Will be exerted to o’erthrow your cause And bolster up his own. Alas! I fear That nothing will avert your punishment. Think, Vergli, of the Pow’rs that you oppose, Think of the forces all arrayed in line Ready to crush you to the earth, to kill. ’Tis an unequal fight. Oh! Vergli, pause! Think of the future, think of liberty, Think of the horrid doom which will be yours. Be wise and claim King Hector’s clemency, Humble yourself to say the word ‘Forgive’; Plead guilty, crave his Mercy, quit the Cause Of which you have so rashly made adoption.”
Vergli. “Hush! Maxim. Hush! ‘Never!’ is my reply, I mean to fight the Ogre Superstition, I mean to cry aloud the Woes of Man Born of that ancient and insensate lie, I mean to ask for Justice. If I fall Others will rise to fill the breach I quit. I war not against law and order, or Against the King and Government. I fight Against oppressive customs and beliefs, And social tyrannies which weigh men down, Making both men and women common slaves— Especially the latter. What I seek Is to give all Life’s opportunity. I prate not of the word Equality I know, that until Man attains Perfection, Equality is quite impossible; But give to all that pressing human right, The right to live, to work and to enjoy The recompense which is the due of toil, And opportunity to claim it, too. No, Maxim, tempt me not; my mind’s made up, I fight for all the disinherited.” [Rings.
Enter Warder: “You rang, Sir. Have you finished with your clerk?”
Vergli. “Yes, thank you, warder. Business is arranged, To-morrow follows my Solicitor.” (To Maxim) “Remember to enjoin on him to come.”
Maxim. “I will not fail. He’ll come assuredly.”
[Exit Maxim.