ACT THIRD.
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.