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.”
[_Sleeps_