ACT FIFTH.
SCENE I.
The royal Castle of Belmadhu in Scota. King Hector is seated in a garden tent facing some high heathery hills. Close to him his little son Bernis, Prince of Scota, is playing. The King is reading a letter from Isola.
Prince Bernis. “Papa, where is Mamma? Bernis wants her, Papa, Nurse says Mamma has gone away. Where is she gone to? Bernis wants Mamma. Papa! send for Mamma. Tell her to come. Tell her, Papa, that ‘Bernis is so dull.’ He wants Mamma to come and play with him. Papa! (wistfully). Will you please tell Mamma to come? Papa, Mamma loves Bernis very much; Papa, Bernis loves Mamma so so much. Papa, please give him his Mamma again.”
King Hector (wearily and aside): “Poor child, what can I say? What have I done? Brought thee, unasked, into a world of pain; To act the puppet of a gaping crowd, Who nurture thee to be their gaudy toy. Born to the slavery of a royal crown, Thou must indeed learn to forego thy will.” (To the child) “Mamma’s away. Gone to see Uncle Shafto. Bernis must be a big boy. Play alone. He should not want Mamma to play with him. Bernis must learn to be a Prince indeed, And just forget he is a human being.”
Prince Bernis. “What is a Prince, Papa? Is it a thing? And what’s a Hooman Being? Please tell me.”
King Hector. “A Prince is just a man turned inside out, He’s just a man but made to look unlike one; A human being feels, and speaks, and acts; A Prince is merely an Automaton.”
Prince Bernis (earnestly): “I don’t want to become a Prince, Papa; I won’t let them pull Bernis inside out. I want to be a hooman being please. Bernis shan’t be a nasty Tumaton.”
King Hector. “Fie, Bernis, you are not a Prince at all; A little gutter snipe, that’s what you are.” (Aside) “Spit of Isola, every inch of him, A most unorthodox, unroyal slave; Wants to be human! Not a People’s toy. Oh! Isola, why have you bred this thing?”
Prince Bernis (clapping his hands): “A gutter snipe, Papa? What fun! what fun! Am I a gutter snipe, really, Papa? Then I may make mud pies and play leap frog, And pull these stiff clothes off and wear nice rags. Oh! yes, I know the gutter snipes do that, Because I’ve seen them. Yes, I have, Papa. I’m going to look for Nurse and tell her so. Nursie, dear Nursie, I’m a gutter snipe!”
King Hector. “Laugh on poor little ‘would-be gutter snipe,’ Laugh and love Nature whilst thou canst, my boy; ’Twill soon be torn from thee to fabricate That Human being docked of Liberty. Now to Isola’s letter. What says she! This offcast woman, whom I once called wife.” (Reads aloud) “Let me speak to you, Hector. I will speak. You must and shall do justice to Vergli, You must and shall acknowledge him as heir, You must and shall honour Merani’s name, You must and shall teach Bernis to be true, Each day I’ll send this message to you, King, Until it takes possession of your heart, And though I am no longer nigh to speak, I’ll cry it to you daily from afar. And this, too, will I cry each day be sure— You shall not always be a puppet King, But lead your people and your Government To do away with antiquated law, And cast aside a false and senseless creed, Which bolsters up innumerable wrongs And rushes in the face of Evolution. Hector, you must give freedom to Vulnar, He has a noble soul a kindly heart. What is his crime? He freed your son from death. He is an outlaw for that reason, King, You shall not punish him who saved your son. You shall cast off your shackles and be just, You shall not teach our child to be a thief, Or act a lie, or filch his brother’s name. Bernis, of course, by law is yours, Hector; A man-made law gives him to you not me, But Nature’s law declares that he is mine Far beyond yours. Yes, Bernis is my child. I did not want him. He was forced on me. I did not marry you of my free will. They killed Escanior and you purchased me To be your law wife, Church-blessed chattel slave. But all this cannot alter the great fact That Bernis is our child and, though by law You take him and deny my right to him, I am his Mother. Yes, he is my child By an inexorable sacred law, Which man-made laws may flout but cannot kill; And so I tell you, Hector, guard the child, Make him what Isola would have made him. I do not plead with you I say you shall, You shall bring up my child as I desire. Yes, you may smile and scoff at Isola, Think you she cannot read your inmost heart? Deep down therein there is a fount of love Which royal schooling has both checked and plugged, But which is bubbling at its source ne’erless. It shall o’ercome your royal slavery And make you a just Ruler, not a tool. Thus, Hector, shall I speak to you each day, You’ll hear my voice whisp’ring around your brain And fear not they shall find an entrance there.”
Hector (laying the letter down): “Isola, thy words are ever whispering, They haunt my mind at all and every hour. Undoubtedly I loved you, Merani, And by God’s law you were my wife, indeed; And Vergli is the Prince of Scota, too. But I was reared not to think in this way, And so I did not know the crime I did, When I bought Isola, yes, bought that girl, And raised her up my puppet, Consort Queen. Poor Merani forgive me. Dead days rise And come again from out that vanished past When we were lovers, and for love of me, You braved the world’s cold scorn and stood by me My Nature-wedded wife, faithful and true, Loving and helpful, yet too proud to swear The senseless formula prescribed by law, Which ordered you to swear to be my slave. Yet were we man and wife by register, Which took our promise to be man and wife, And married us before the God of Heav’n. Then State expediency tore me away And gave me a girl wife, unwilling bride, Who loved another and denied me love— Yet whom the law gave me as lawful Queen. I loved Isola, Merani forgive; I could not help it. Yet she wronged you not. She always spoke of you with true respect And said you were my wife, she but a slave. Then you went forward. After that she bowed To Natural law and called herself my wife. But her proud spirit would not brook restraint, Nor act the puppet part of Consort Queen. When I and Sanctimonious sought to force This part undignified upon her, she Left me and sought the refuge of her home. I claimed her back, but Bernia’s Prince refused To yield his sister up; and so our Church And State divorced her, made her an outcast And left, of course, the child to be my care. Merani, you so kind, with heart so large, Will understand and will forgive the King. Oh! sorry fate. How long must I sham on? How long must I approve what I detest, And be a slave? What! sign my son’s death warrant? Never! I will not murder my own child. Thank goodness he escaped, and yet, alas! If they should catch young Fortunatus and Arrest Vulnar, the law will hang these men As murderers of the policeman Grett; And I shall sign approving warrant, I, The father of Vergli whose life they saved. Was ever man more sorely tried than I? Oh! sorry, sorry fate to be a King.”
Enter Larrar: “Sire, there is most important news arrived.” (Reads) “‘Three masterly arrests have just been made— Of Vulnar, Scrutus and young Fortunatus. One of their followers turned traitor and Betrayed the hiding place where Vergli lurked. Young Fortunatus, though entrapped himself, Managed to send a warning to Vergli; He and Vulnar and Scrutus stood their ground And held the entrance to their chief’s retreat. Fearing that Vergli would refuse to fly And leave the others to their fate, the youth Resorted to a subterfuge, saying Vergli must meet them on the Bawn co Pagh, Whither they were retiring. He knew well That once on Bawn co Pagh, the citadel And fortress of Vulnar, Vergli was safe And midst a band of men true to his cause; But for this cunning message here detailed, Vergli would have returned to aid his friends And been entrapped and made a prisoner. E’en as it was the others might have fled, But had they done so would have doomed Vergli; And so they fought it out and thus gained time, But were at length o’ercome and captive made.’ The name of him who worked this clever ruse By which this mountain hiding place was found, Is Judath, who feigned fealty to their cause But turned informer and betrayed them all.”
King Hector (aside): “Curses upon him. Black-souled son of Hell, Monster of foul and base iniquity.” (To Larrar) “So, so, they’ve caught the three who murdered Grett; Now will the law avenge itself, the mob Wreak its all-fathomless resentment on The men whom Judath has so deftly nailed. And I, yes I, must bow with smothered love Crying within my bosom to my soul, And sign the rights of these men to fair life Away into the black abyss of wrong. Larrar, what piteous fate e’er made me King?”
Larrar. “Not fate, Sire. You can cast the title off And just become an ordinary man. Children like dolls, the grown-up child likewise Makes you its doll and pays you for your trouble. What are you, Sire, but the paid servant of A government of nondescript creation? You do its work and call yourself a King. I am your servant, but you in your turn Are mine, because I am part of that state Which pays the piper to pipe forth its tune. Vergli would have the King part of the State, The chairman, so to say, one with real pow’r. Paid, but a real King, not a mere cypher To whom men bow, although but to a slave. Were you a real King you could speak your mind And guide your peers and people to be fair, Or influence them to espouse the right. I say not Kings should be all absolute, But they should be Chairmen of the State. At least this is the creed preached by Vergli And long ago his words converted me, I am at heart an Evolutionist.”
King Hector (aside): “And I, too. Who would be the farce I am?” (To Larrar) “Larrar, you are presuming. Have a care, Kings’ waiting-men are servants, too, you know; A waiting groom and waiting lord are paid. If I’m a puppet, all who wait on me Are puppets, too! What shall we call the thing Which this queer puppet-mixture has evolved? Merry-go-round or Humbug spinning round? I think the latter, ’tis more suitable; For Humbug is in the ascendant now And Sham the Idol of Society, And over all King Hector spreads his wings; Shall they be free wings or their pinioned stumps?”
SCENE II.
On the ramparts of Bawn co Pagh Castle. Vergli and Verita, the latter in male attire, are pacing up and down conversing earnestly.
Vergli (passionately): “And they are captives, while I stand here free! Alas! ’tis terrible. What can I do? Isola, you a captive and condemned, Vulnar likewise and faithful Scrutus, too? Condemned to die for giving me my life! Shades of Iniquity! Horrible fact! Isola, whom I love, condemned to death, Vulnar, whose home protects this wanderer, Scrutus, who was the first to stand by me, All doomed to die, all doomed to die for me.”
Verita. “Not so, Vergli. Fret not. They fight for Truth, Of which you are the representative; They die that you may live to win that prize And give it, from them, to posterity. Vergli, live to reward their sacrifice, Live to see triumph—that for which they’ll die I know I echo dear Isola’s thoughts, Do you not feel them hov’ring round you now?”
Vergli. “Yes, they steal round me, gently kissing me, Bidding me be a hero not a cur. Dearest Isola, I shall work for you And win the Right we both desire so much. To go to you, to die by your dear side, That is the wish of Vergli’s yearning heart; To live for you, to win the Truth you love, Shall be the duty done for you and Right.”
Verita. “Spoken as heroes speak, noble Vergli, Your answ’ring words will cheer Isola’s heart; They’ll flood with light her prison’s lonely cell And bring her happiness and restful peace. Now will I start for Infantlonia. There! The sun is sinking, all is red and gold, The colours flood the far off western sky. Red is Blood’s sign, but Gold’s the sign of Truth, And Martyr’s blood shall win Truth’s victory.”
Vergli (solus): “Mine be the task to wake a sleeping world And force it to espouse the cause of Truth. Merani, Mother! Dost thou hear thy son? Thy dear lips taught him Truth. Thy noble words Live all unfading in his Memory. Thou art not dead. Thy life is with me now. I am thyself, I am thy property. What I do that thou doest, Mother mine, My voice is but the echo of thy own. And you, Isola, your thought hovers near Mixing with ours, making mine doubly strong. Oh! Thought amalgamate with subtle force, Flood me with pow’r to think and to express And to enforce it on Humanity. Thought, mighty Thought, essence of God Divine, Wax great and multiply. Attain the Truth.”
SCENE III.
In the exercising ground of the Prison of Holdfast. Vulnar, Fortunatus and Scrutus are at exercise. The first two have halted and are engaged in conversation. It is the day before their trial.
Vulnar. “This I assume is the last chance I’ll have To speak to you, Isola. Without doubt The verdict will be Guilty, sentence Death. My lawyer tells me that the angry wave Of that most fickle Judge, Public Opinion, Is rabid for our instant execution! We are, in fact, condemned before being tried; A wave of anger has possessed the land, Fostered, encouraged by the powers that be. Ah! well, t’will soon be o’er. I fear not death, To die beside you is enough for me. Vulnar asks not a better fate, indeed, But to be faithful to the very end— To Love, to Justice and to mighty Truth, All three the seraphs of a perfect Life. Forgive me, Isola, for breathing love, But I have loved you faithfully and well. To feel you feel this and forgive Vulnar, Would make his last days peaceful and content. He could not help his love, it came on him Long long ago when he was yet a boy; He loved this love and hugged it very tight, And nurtured it, until it grew so strong He knew no mortal pow’r could sever it; The sapling had become, in fact, an oak— An oak impervious to ev’ry storm. Kind Isola, I know that you forgive And do not blame Vulnar for loving you.”
Isola. “Why do men love me thus? What is the spell Which makes them love with such unselfish love? Oh! Vulnar, could I blame you for such love? Rather, I thank you for your brave devotion. Kind Vulnar, loving friend of Escanior, ’Tis good, indeed, to have so true a friend; If it to you is joy to have loved me, Believe me, ’tis a joy to me, Vulnar. I would not sell your love for all the world; I would not barter it for Life itself. Such love in man is so uncommon, rare, To own a gem so rare is wealth, indeed. Yes, Death is nigh, that death men fear so much. Why do they fear it, if their God is good? Why fear to go to what is loving, kind? If God is as a father, they should laugh And clap with joy their hands at sight of Death. This they do not, but fear it fearfully. Why? Because they have made an untrue heav’n; A cruel hell, a hydra-headed God Whom they call Good and yet fear to approach, Whom they adore and yet seek to evade! Small wonder seeing they are human and This God is most inhuman. Oh! fair Truth Prevail, prevail, come quickly and prevail. Well, Vulnar, Life is fair and Life is Life— To us who know that Thought can never die And is the soul of Life, we fear not Death; Because we feel ’tis but an open door Where Life rejoins the Thought which cannot die, And starts afresh upon Life’s pilgrimage. I will not say farewell, we’ll meet again, You and my fair-haired, blue-eyed Escanior; We’ll meet, our forceful thought attracting us To be together. Yes, to be, to be.”
Warder (approaching): “Time’s up for exercise. Back to your cells. Silence. No further speaking is allowed.”
SCENE IV.
In the Palace of Sham, the Infantlonian residence of the Ardrigh. Sanctimonious and Conception sit together in the study of His Graciousness.
Conception. “Your Graciousness, I’ve thought of everything. None but the Prince of Bernia and that jade Whom they call Verita, possess the fact That Isola is Fortunatus, too. Charged with conspiracy, both are in gaol; There they shall stop till Isola is dead. His Majesty has no suspicion, has he?”
Sanctimonious. “No, none, Conception. We’ll take care of that, I and Sirocco, the Prime Minister. Now that Vulnar and his accomplices— Scrutus and Fortunatus—are condemned, The danger of detection is quite nil. I trust to you, of course, to keep the truth Barred in the prison till they are no more. ’Tis fortunate they led their own defence, And that Isola scorned to plead her sex And so secure a respite for herself. Yes, Fortunatus, you shall hang, indeed, And I’m revenged on Lady Isola!”
Conception (starting): “Your Graciousness, the Prince of Scota’s there Staring at you with all his might and main, Where did he spring from? Is’t a shadow wraith? God! how his features mirror Isola’s.”
Sanctimonious (testily): “’Tis but a child. He often stays with me, Comes for instruction. Plays in the Garden. Nothing to fear from him. A mere, mere child. How now, my son, what stops you in your play?”
Prince Bernis. “A voice called me. I thought it was Mamma’s. ‘Bernis,’ it said, ‘Come, darling, come here quick!’ I ran so fast. I thought it was Mamma.”
Nurse. “Fie, Bernis! Fie! I’ve called you sev’ral times.”
Prince Bernis. “I thought it was Mamma and ran in here.”
Nurse. “Hush! Do not speak of Lady Isola. Make salutation to His Graciousness, Then come with me, we must be going home.”
Sanctimonious. “My blessing on you, Prince. Be a good boy. Come again soon and have a game of play.” [Exit Prince Bernis and Nurse. (To Conception) “’Tis fortunate he is a little child And would not understand what I was saying.”
Conception (uneasily): “I hope he did not, but his eyes were wide, They seemed to me to be Isola’s eyes.”
Sanctimonious. “Tut! tut! you are a fool, Conception. The Prince of Scota is a baby still.”
Conception. “Some babies are too sharp, your Graciousness. However, you know best. I am a fool.”
Sanctimonious. “To-morrow they will die, I wish ’twas o’er. I shall not freely breathe till their breath’s gone.”
Conception (rising): “Sharp on the stroke of eight they’ll die to-morrow. Your Graciousness may eat in peace at nine.”
Sanctimonious. “Well spoken, man. Unparalleled Conception.”
SCENE V.
In a condemned cell in the Prison of Holdfast. Fortunatus is seated at a small wooden table writing. Close to him a warder sits reading.
Fortunatus (writes): “When these words reach you, Hector, o’er the tide Which leads from Death to Life I shall be moving. This Thought, which now inhabiting my brain Sends forth to you this message, will have sped Forward to mingle with Escanior’s. Yet e’er it leaves its human canopy, It wafts you the last words of Isola. These are they ‘Be you just and merciful, Become a king in deed rather than name, Work with your people and for them, Hector; Let King mean brother, treat all men as such. Sweep from the statute book all useless law, All law which harrows progress, or degrades. See to it that the young shall learn the Truth, Learn to be useful, moral, just and kind— To give to every living thing that breathes The right which Nature gives it, Happiness. Train up the youth to say “Thou shalt not kill,” To say it and to practise it as well. Abolish War and raise up Arbitration. See that each child is taught a trade, or shewn How to use hands given for work and use. See that all men have opportunity To work and win the fruits of honest toil. Let all work be Co-operative and Give unto woman what you give to man. Let principles of Fair Play animate All laws and regulations of the State; Let Reason guide their framing, not the lust Of gold, or greed, or selfishness. Be fair. Let it be ordered “Privilege shall die, Just laws alone rule o’er the Destinies Of Man and beast.” Crush Cruelty to earth. See to it that the base, ignoble crime Cursed Vivisection, be swept clean away— Totally abolished, treated as a crime, And stains no more the fame of our dear land.’ One last word, Hector. Watch o’er our Bernis, Make him a hero not a bauble prince; Let him be what Isola bore him for, To be an honest and an upright man. And with this last word let me bid you rise And call unto your side your first-born son, Give him the right to be that which he is— The Prince of Scota and your rightful heir. Farewell, Hector! For Right and Truth I die, See to it that I do not die in vain.”
Warder. “Will you not take some rest? The hour grows late. I counsel you, young Fortunatus, sleep.”
Fortunatus, rising, lies down on his bed. Then he turns on his back, puts his hands behind his head and looks up at the ceiling, mentally saying: “Bernis, my darling, be Isola’s child. Good-bye, my little man. Be kind. Be true. Use thought to think right things, be just, be brave; Be mother’s child, reflection of Isola.”
SCENE VI.
The Palace of Dreaming in Infantlonia. King Hector tosses restlessly in his bed and mutters to himself: “Grey dawn is coming, bringing in its hand Death for the three who saved my son from death, And I have signed the warrant for their deaths— I, the lone King of poor Saxscoberland. Oh! Isola, had you been by my side, Had you been reigning jointly with me now As you declared you had the right to reign, Such foul injustice never had been done. Isola, noble Isola, divorced, Driven from Hector’s side by unjust law, Come to me, drive away the imp Remorse Which grinning sits before me, mocking me.”
Enter Prince Bernis (in his nightdress, peeping in): “Papa, mamma is calling. I heard her. Who is Isola? Is it mamma, papa?”
Hector (springing up): “What brings you here, my child? Bernis, what is’t? By all the Gods! What is it, Bernis boy?”
Prince Bernis. “Mamma called me to come here. I have come. Where is mamma? Is mamma Isola? Nurse calls her Lady Isola, papa; But, yesterday, I heard His Gaysiousness Say ‘Isola was Fortunatus.’ Who? Papa say, who is Fortunatus, and How can he be my dear mamma, Isola?”
Hector (seizing the boy and staring at him): “He said that Fortunatus was Isola? Speak, Bernis, did His Graciousness say that?”
Prince Bernis. “Oh! yes, papa. Conception said it, too. I heard the Ardrigh and Conception say it. Tell me, papa, where is mamma and why Is she called Fortunatus by them both, And nurse calls her the Lady Isola?”
King Hector (dressing hastily): “Oh! God Almighty, I shall be too late. ’Tis twenty-nine miles to the prison gates. They die at eight. ’Tis now far after six. Almighty God! How reach Holdfast in time? Oh! for the pow’r to flash the word ‘Reprieved’ Into the hands of Holdfast’s Governor. Surely the Universe holds property Able to send forth silent messages.” (To the child) “Run back to bed, my darling, run, Bernis; Papa is going to try to save Mamma. No. I can’t take you, run to bed, Bernis. Almighty God! can I get there in time?”