A small villa standing in a pretty garden, surrounded by a high wall, in a quiet part of the suburbs of Elsington, and not far from the public gardens and the King’s Palace of that name. In a sitting room in the villa, seated at an escritoire, is Isola. She is no longer Queen of the Saxscober people, King Hector having obtained a divorce; and she is secretly engaged in carrying on the evolutionary agitation of which Vergli, before his arrest, was the leader. It is the day of his trial on a charge of conspiring against the Church and State laws of the Kingdom of Saxscober. Isola is dressed in male attire; her long hair has been cut off and now curls about her head in short tresses. Her disguise is complete and her appearance that of a slight youth.
Enter Verita (similarly disguised). She closes the door and says: “The trial is proceeding. Vergli’s speech Was something too magnificent for words, It held the Court enthralled, spellbound and mute; A dropping pin might have been heard, indeed, So still sat silence on the list’ning crowd. Truly he rose unto the great occasion And looked the Prince of Scota ev’ry inch. Majestic wrath fell from his scornful lips And bitter and sarcastic were his words. He seemed inspired. Thought flowed like running stream, Sparkling his wit, full of convulsing humour; Then pathos and hard-headed Fact spoke out And touched and forced conviction each in turn. If eloquence and truth could save Vergli, ’Twould not be long before our chief was free; And yet, Oh! Lady Isola, I feel That he is doomed. The verdict will be ‘Guilty.’”
Isola. “Hush, Verita, you must not name me thus; Remember I am ‘Fortunatus’ now. Yes Fortunatus, evolutionist, Deputed by Vergli to lead his cause. What matter if the wise men find him Guilty? We’ll save him e’er he reaches Grillaway. All is arranged, Vulnar is on the spot; The prison van goes down a quiet street Ere entering the crowded thoroughfare; A carriage and fleet-footed horses wait, And Vergli will be many miles away When they are searching for him in the town, Making conjecture as to where he is! Hasten now, Verita, back to the Court, Tell Scrutus that I go to join Vulnar, Bid him apprize us of the verdict quick, He knows where we will be. Ready, Waiting; He knows full well the part he has to play, Now go. Heav’n grant the Verdict will be fair.”
[Exit Verita.
SCENE III.
In the High Court of Justice. The Judge has completed his summing up. The jury, after a brief delay, have found the prisoner guilty of conspiring against the Church and State, a crime in Saxscober punishable with death. The usual question has been put “Say, prisoner at the bar, have you any reason to give why sentence should not be passed upon you?” and Vergli, who has been standing with folded arms, unfolds them and bows his head slightly in assent. The hum of voices in the Court, which had broken out when the foreman of the jury had uttered the word “Guilty,” at once subsides and a great silence falls as Vergli begins to speak.
Vergli. “Reason to give against my murder? Yes. For Murder it will be assuredly. What right have you to take from me God’s breath, Because I seek to see His laws prevail? What is my crime? To have demanded Truth? Truth in religion in the place of Sham? Yes, I have asked for that and pleaded, too, For a vast Revolution in the laws. I claim to be King Hector’s eldest son, The heir apparent to the Monarchy; I am the Prince of Scota, Prince Bernis By Natural law is not the King’s wife’s son. I claim that my dear Mother was that wife, I claim that she with Hector should have reigned, Reigned as a reigning not a Consort Queen; I claim the parents’ right, of either sex, To reign before their children. Out on laws Which make a child usurp its Mother’s place, Or, if a female be an elder child, Ousts her from heirship on account of sex! Imbecile law! Worthy of priestly craft, Worthy of Superstition and Saint Saul, Of men bedridden with such mistresses As are these soulless and unnatural laws. All law is bad which Nature has not framed, Be it of Civil or Religious sex, And all Religion is a cursèd lie Whose God is otherwise than Nature’s form. Away with your man-shaped and cruel God, In whose own image you declare you’re made, Faith! He must be an ugly Barbary Ape, If the majority of men reflect His Godlike features in their ill-formed masks. But here I fling to Earth the Monster creed With which you mystify our early years, Distort our reason, warp our faculties; And make that fatal transformation scene In Human character, which would be kind And sensible and brotherly in love, Were it not for the Orthodox tirade That moulds it with false teachings and precepts Throughput the whole of Life’s sad Pilgrimage. What right have you to make of Life a hell? To disinherit men of their just rights? Follow out Nature. To the fittest give The right to lead, to rule, to fashion law. The fittest should survive, the unfit pass Into the force that can evolve anew A better Life from Mediocrity. Men should not starve while others feast and laugh. By what Almighty Law of Nature’s God Do men step into Life outcasts and slaves? Why? Yes, why? I ask; for Opportunity Is Man’s inherent right. Sex should not be The disability you’ve made of it. Give all an equal opportunity, The fittest will arise and lead and rule, And make this world a heaven where now ’tis hell. Let all men work from Monarch to workman, Let all reap benefit from honest toil. Let Life be made Co-operative and See to it that Injustice shall be slain. Build up a new religion based on Love, Away with Cruelty to Man or Beast; Beasts have their rights just every much as Man, Are they not our own kin, our mute, dumb friends? We have no right to torture them for sport, For Scientific purposes or food. Blood was not made for Man’s consumption. Grain And fruit, and vegetables, and nuts and herbs Are what God Nature gives him for his food; And Health demands he should adopt as such. Give us a kind religion. Let the Truth Be the magnetic influence of our lives. Let Sham and Superstition be condemned As false and hideous idols of the past. Down with all law in Church and State which kills The holy rights of Nature, our true God. Oh! Woman, wake! Crush the black snake Untruth. Wake! Woman, wake! And you shall wake the World. Are these the sentiments which merit death?” [Cries of “No! No!” and “Yes! Yes!” “Should they not rather live eternally? Are they not true? Is not all Truth divine? What! Treason is it to condemn a lie? What made the lie? God? No. Just little Man. Man, still in an imperfect, undrilled state. Shall lies or laws based on them be immortal? Not so, I say. They must be executed. Vergli will be their executioner. Is he a Revolutionist? No, no. He is an Evolutionist. That’s all. Kill him? You cannot! Thought will never die, It is a part of Immortality. Silence this body? That which gives it life You cannot kill, because it is of God. It is that which is speaking to you now. Silence it? Never! ’Tis eternal Life. For Thought is Life and Life which cannot die, It is the Soul and deathless part of Man.”
[He ceases speaking. Loud applause breaks out which is with difficulty suppressed. The judge assumes the Black Cap and pronounces the death sentence. It is received in contemptuous silence by Vergli and gloomy silence in the Court.
As the prisoner is led away, Verita manages to pass near him and whispers: “Hist! Vergli! Isola is all prepared. Fear not! Ere long thou shalt be free as air.”
[She goes quickly away as she speaks.