Though the resurrection of Early Modern
English and the persistence of ‘empire’
seem anachronistic, in this abridged
novel extract Amelia Garland Mears
extrapolates how new inventions (such
as the tape recorder) and discoveries
(such as psychic powers) might be
incorporated into the legal infrastructure
of a future society. In Mears’s imagined
year 2000, the promise of gender
equality is largely fulfilled in a legal
sense, but sexist attitudes and sexual
harassment linger; like Frances Power
Cobbe, she warns the reader that
advances in social equality will have to
be defended.
THE ROYAL OBSERVATORY was a stately building close to the old building in Greenwich Park. The lower apartments of the new building were occupied by Mercia and her household, while the upper rooms were devoted to the purposes of her profession. In a spacious apartment on the third floor was Mercia, surrounded by curious astroscopes, stellar-spectroscopes, and wonderfully constructed cameras. She was seated at her desk making some mathematical calculations of the celestial depths, and was so completely engrossed in her labours that the entrance of her fellow-worker, Geometrus, went unheeded. At length, she finished, raised her head and smiled.
‘Ah, Geometrus, is it thou? I have finished the measurement of our new star.’
By this time, English was the commercial language of the whole world, but the ancient style was reverted to in the matter of the personal pronoun; the substitution of the plural ‘you’ for its singular ‘thou’ was once again considered ungrammatical.
‘You say “our”, my mistress,’ replied the young man. ‘It is thou alone who hast done the work.’
‘I made the observations and calculations, but it was thy cunning which formed the instrument. Take thy due, my friend, and be not over-modest; some base imitator may someday defraud thee of thine invention, unless thou wilt consent to acknowledge it openly.’
No sooner had Mercia made this observation than she heard some unusual noise going on outside, and stepping to the window, she saw several gentlemen assembled near the Observatory, among whom she discerned the Emperor Felicitas himself.
‘Here’s a pretty surprise for thee, Mistress Mercia,’ exclaimed Geometrus. ‘None other than the Emperor! It is not I he seeks, but thou, Mistress Mercia; I will then away.’
‘Stay, Geometrus!’ exclaimed Mercia quickly, ‘I would prefer thy company when I receive the Emperor. I will now retire and change into something more suitable for so honourable a visitor.’
But before she could leave the room, a messenger was at the door desiring an audience for his royal master. Mercia silently bowed her assent; and a moment later the monarch entered her studio. As he did so, she rose from her seat at the large table – which was covered with charts and maps of the celestial regions, all of her own making – but the Emperor quickly said, ‘Stay, lady, keep thy seat, for it is meet that monarchs should serve thee, who art so full of knowledge and wisdom.’
‘What is thy wish, Sire, wherefore am I honoured by this visit?’
‘I would know, fair Mercia, the cause of this change of temperature throughout the world. For three successive years an extreme cold has prevailed each season. I fain would learn the reason.’
‘Some serious internal changes are taking place within the body of our sun. Great caverns, about one-fourth of the sun’s diameter, have discovered themselves in his centre. We are not the only planet-dwellers suffering from cold at this time, for a difference will be experienced throughout the whole of the solar system. But it is only a temporary inconvenience; from close observation I find that our sun is absorbing numerous meteoric bodies, of which there are billions wandering in interstellar space. I conclude therefore that there is no cause for alarm. Interstellar hydrogen is pressed into our sun’s service and a constant heat sustained, which may last for thousands of years to come.’
‘Of all the stars, thou art the brightest, Mercia. Thou art as fair as thou art far-seeing. Thy words give comfort to the world, and thy beauty brings thy Sovereign much delight.’
While Felicitas was uttering these pleasant gallantries, he was gradually edging his chair nearer and nearer to that of Mercia.
Mercia’s countenance at once assumed a more serious expression; hastily glancing towards that part of the room where Geometrus was seated, she found he had slipped out unobserved, doubtless with the intention of leaving them quietly to their discussion on the sun’s condition.
‘Truly, it is most kind of thee, Sire, to show such appreciation; but I seek no flatteries, or compliments,’ she answered with downcast eyes.
‘Why, what harm is there in speaking a truth, Mercia? I do affirm that thy beauty only exceeds thy knowledge, or thy knowledge thy beauty, I know not which.’
‘Be it so, then, Sire. It is nothing to my credit if I be beautiful; I had no part in the making.’
‘Ah, Mercia, why spoil those eyes more beautiful than the brightest star in gazing into unknown regions day and night; year in, year out? Thou knowest no enjoyment – thou hast no pleasure of life, as other women; thine existence is lonely, colourless. Drink of the draught of love as nature wills it, and let the study of the stars stand over for a space.’
The voice of Felicitas as he uttered these words was low and full of passion; but Mercia, owing to the confusion that covered her, did not notice the change of tone. She was dumb, tonguetied; at this inopportune moment a knock was heard at the door, and the Emperor himself touched the button and gave admittance to another visitor.
It was Geometrus, who had returned for a part of an instrument he was making, which he had inadvertently left behind. His entrance put a prompt stop to the Emperor’s wooing. Mercia, hardly knowing what she was doing, rose from her seat and turned to leave the apartment. Observing her intention, the Emperor concluded that it was time to withdraw.
‘Farewell, mistress,’ he said as he made her a bow, ‘I will come again, ere long, and learn of the sun’s condition which is so necessary to be acquainted with.’
Mercia made her way into her most private apartment, and shutting herself within, she sank upon the silken couch. Was the Emperor putting her probity to the test, or was it only a random shot on his part, made for mere amusement? Had some person, envious of her position, told some tale to Felicitas with a view of bringing about her downfall? If so, who could it be?
Then the thought crossed her mind of the possibility that the Emperor might have been giving voice to his true feelings, but she dismissed this possibility, for Felicitas was already married, and to offer Mercia an illicit love would be an unparalleled presumption – even from an Emperor.
It was, indeed, a bold step for the Emperor to take with one so high-minded, so self-controlled as she. But her very unattainability made her more desirable in his eyes: the more he dwelt on the futility of his wish the more his passion raged within him.
‘I must have Mercia!’ he exclaimed to himself as he lay awake dwelling on her beauty, her goodness, and her extraordinary abilities. ‘I will go to her again. I will risk all, and tell her of my love. If she refuses to become mine secretly, I will wed her openly, and get rid of that flat-faced Russian woman whom my ministers talked me into marrying.’
Mercia, meanwhile, was somewhat settled in her mind regarding the course she ought to take with the Emperor. If Felicitas should chance not to make mention of the subject of love, which was a forbidden one to her, owing to her position, she made up her mind to forbear making inquiries concerning his motive for introducing it.
Quite alone, and unattended by any member of his suite, Felicitas set off to pay Mercia his promised visit; she gave him a pleasant welcome. In her heart, she hoped that the interpretation of his words would prove favourable. After all, could he not influence his ministers to do away with this absurd marriage objection?
It so happened that Geometrus on that day had business in the city, which detained him several hours, and as the Emperor was being driven, he saw Geometrus enter a machine warehouse, or shop, where electrical household machines were vended.
‘Ah,’ thought the Emperor, ‘thou art there, my friend: pray make no hurry on my account.’
When arrived at his destination, the Emperor entered the Observatory with a firm resolution to make good use of the opportunity with which fortune had favoured him. Now, Mercia, with the same motive in her mind, received him very cordially, for she desired to make a favourable impression, with a view of obtaining his royal clemency in the matter of matrimony, even though it was not certain that she would at any time change her present condition.
Neither of them noticed the presence of an old man named Sadbag, a leading Radical politician, reformist, anti-monarchist and fervent Republican, seated behind a screen in one corner of the room; he had been awaiting an audience with Mercia, and had fallen asleep while reading. He was soon roused, however, by the Emperor’s voice.
‘Ah, Mistress Mercia,’ he exclaimed, ‘what cheerful looks thou dost carry today, methinks thy face betokens much content – hast thou taken my words to heart, fair lady?’
‘Sire, thou said something concerning the sun – thou didst talk of coming to learn more of his condition, I believe,’ answered Mercia.
‘True,’ he replied with a laugh, ‘I would know more of the sun’s late vagaries, but it would please me better to learn something of thyself: dost thou never feel lonely?’
‘Often enough, Sire; the hours speed away at times very quickly when I am hard at work.’
‘Art thou then tired of this occupation? It is indeed, too much for thee. Rest a while, sweet Mercia, and let the stars take care of themselves for a season.’
‘Oh, that would spoil all my calculations; the work of years would be as naught were I to stay my hand now.’
‘Health, and Love, sweet Mercia, go hand in hand together. I know it; for thine eyes were made for the conquest of man’s heart, rather than star-gazing. Cease to disregard the designs of Nature when she formed thee, and yield thyself to the pleasure of love.’
Mercia essayed to answer him, but her tongue refused her utterance, so great was her confusion. ‘Sire, I know not what answer to give in this matter.’
‘Hast thou not felt the want of companionship, dear Mercia? It is good to be loved, fair one, to realise how much thy womanhood means: hast thou never felt its joys – its pains?’
‘Sire, I cannot break my bond, signed by my own hand, to forswear love and marriage: no one but thyself can relieve me of this obligation.’
‘I heartily relieve thee, then, my good Mercia,’ replied the delighted monarch. ‘I care not for the bond one iota, if that’s all that’s in thy way. Keep thy post, and enjoy the delights of love at the same time.’ Then, forgetting all his caution and self-restraint, he caught her in his arms, and in a perfect frenzy of rapture commenced to shower hot kisses on her brow, her cheeks, her lips.
Mercia was so taken aback by this that her brain reeled for a moment; then, recovering her senses, she wrenched herself out of his arms. Gazing on him with blanched face, she cried in a voice gasping with pain and indignation –
‘What means the Emperor by this unheard-of liberty? What have I done that I should be treated as a courtesan by my Sovereign?’
‘A courtesan!’ he repeated. ‘Why Mercia, I would give thee a crown if I could! Thy queenly brow was truly made for one; and by the stars, thou shalt have it yet!’
‘Surely, Sire, thou hast gone mad!’
‘Yes, truly, I am mad – mad with love for thee, and thou knowest it, Mercia, else wouldst thou have kissed my hand in acknowledgment of it?’
‘It was not so!’ she answered in strong indignant tones. ‘Thy love never entered my thought.’
‘Dost thou place that poltroon Geometrus before me? Am I to be flouted for him? Mercia, Mercia, give me thy love!’ he cried. ‘Take me, my beloved, spurn me no longer, for without thee I am as one dead!’
For an instant Mercia paused, and passed her hand across her brow, as if to recover her senses; then she said in a deliberate and dignified voice:
‘Felicitas, the Emperor hath no crown to offer his subject, Mercia, for it sits already on the brow of his royal spouse; neither has he love to offer his servant, Mercia, for it is sworn to his Empress for ever. It is an insult to me, thine offer of illicit love, and I refuse to longer remain in thy service.’
Upon hearing these words, the heat of the Emperor’s temper cooled; he saw he had not only ruined his cause with the lady, but he was bringing upon himself public dishonour, for the reason of the resignation of their gifted and enthusiastic astronomer would be demanded by both ministers and nation alike.
As she turned to leave the apartment, for she disdained having further converse with him, he caught her by the dress, with a view of detaining her.
‘Stay, Mercia, stay, and listen to me! Listen to one word more, I beseech thee. Thou shalt, for indeed I will not let thee go!’ He shouted, for she was wrenching herself out of his grasp.
‘Touch me not,’ she exclaimed, ‘or I will kill thee as thou standest!’ From her girdle she took a small ebony stick, electrically charged, which she wore as a kind of life-preserver, in accordance with the custom of ladies who worked, or walked out a good deal alone.
She had reached the door and opened it, when who should rush upon the scene but Geometrus.
‘Mercia insulted, and by the Emperor! What is the meaning of this?’
‘I am not insulting her,’ the Emperor replied. ‘She has disobeyed my commands respecting some important astronomical information I required, and is endeavouring to shield her own shortcomings by getting into a rage: ’tis a woman’s way, but I’ll have none of it.’
Then Mercia, drawing herself up to her full height, exclaimed in indignant voice –
‘Liar, I despise thee! Bid thine Empress come hither, for I have something to tell her. As for me, I shall never receive thee here again! Get some other to fill my place, for I shall quit it forthwith.’
Then she turned away with haughty mien and left the apartment.
‘It shall not end in this way,’ said Geometrus. ‘I shall see that this matter is not hushed up!’
‘I will have no more of this,’ responded Felicitas, who, looking very uncomfortable, made for the door. ‘I will have thee indicted for a revolutionist and a maker of mischief in my realms, and pay thee well for all these insults.’
So perfect was the system of communication throughout the globe that two hours later, the news was in every part of the world. From the commoner to the crowned head of every country, almost, the story of the Emperor of the Teutonic Empire and his astronomer was discussed. In the cottage, the castle, the street corner, the court and the club, it became at once the leading subject of conversation.
Meanwhile, Felicitas was relating his own version of events, in which his powers of imagination had been considerably called upon, to his Prime Minister.
‘At the very least,’ urged the Emperor, ‘these newspapers ought to be indicted for conspiring to undermine my reputation, and thereby bring me into my people’s disfavour.’
‘What about thy two astronomers? Does thy Majesty desire to include them in the indictment?’
‘Certainly,’ replied the Emperor. ‘Did not Mistress Mercia threaten my life, and hath not Geometrus taken her part?’
‘Would it not be far wiser to require them to apologise for their ill-behaviour?’
‘That they will never do, I am assured! Their looks and language betrayed their evil designs towards me. Get a warrant sent quickly, and put them in prison without delay.’
When Mercia retired to her private apartment she hardly knew whither she was going. In a few moments, however, she recovered herself, and began to consider her situation, or rather her loss of situation, for she had thrown it up in the heat of her anger with the Emperor.
‘I have refused, perhaps, the crown of an Empress to take the lowly condition of a poor scholar out of place; but I have remained true to myself, and to my sex, and before all things have kept my heart and hands clean.’
How a man could express the most profound attachment for her at one moment, and seek her destruction at the next, seemed to her pure mind so monstrous and unnatural that its possibility in her case was altogether out of the question. That Felicitas would go the lengths of formally making such an infamous accusation she could not bring herself to believe.
When the constables entered, they did so in a somewhat hesitating manner. Evidently, they did not at all relish their work.
‘Why this intrusion on a lady in her private apartment?’ demanded Geometrus.
‘What is your wish?’ inquired Mercia in quiet tones.
‘Mistress, very unwillingly, I confess, I call upon thee in the Emperor’s name to surrender thyself – here is my authority,’ and he held out the warrant for her perusal. When she had finished, she stood for a moment thinking, whereupon he stepped forward to lead her away, when Mercia falling back a little, drew herself up and exclaimed –
‘Touch me not, fellow; I will leave this house of mine own accord when I am fully prepared. I must attire myself suitably before going into the night air, and my carriage must be made ready for me.’
‘We have brought the ordinary police van by special order of the Emperor,’ said another officer. ‘We dare not let any other be used.’
‘The police-van for me!’ repeated Mercia. ‘And by the Emperor’s orders too! What has the Emperor to do with the administration of the law? I refuse to obey such an order.’
‘And rightly so,’ interjected Geometrus. ‘This lady goes with you in her own carriage, or not at all.’
‘What is that to thee?’ returned the sergeant of police. ‘A pretty person to lay down conditions to us, and dictate how we are to perform our duty, seeing thou art in the same boat thyself. Here is the warrant for thy apprehension; and get thee ready quickly.’
Nevertheless, Mercia’s carriage was soon in readiness, and Geometrus watched the light barouche roll along the smooth macadamised roadway.
Of all the persons who laid claim to the gift of thought-reading there was none so sensitive as the great Anglo-Indian, Dayanand Swami. It was said of him that he almost lived upon a wonderful elixir of his own manufacture, the preparation of which had been handed down to him from his Mahatma forefather some generations back. Being in the possession of all the accumulated knowledge of successive generations of Yogis, he was filled with wonderful wisdom. Moreover, his powers were considerably strengthened by reason of his advanced culture, aided by his natural gift of psychic energy.
It was no uncommon occurrence for a fair Duchess to find out where her noble husband was spending his evenings; the Duke in question, guessing that she would do so, would beforehand try to bribe Swami to keep the secret. Or an over-anxious wife would worry herself concerning the safety of her husband who had taken a journey across the Atlantic in his flying machine; or a young man striving to obtain a Government appointment would seek to learn if his lady friend, of whom he was in mortal fear, would bowl him out in the coming examination. No matter of what the difficulty consisted, this Anglo-Indian sage solved it satisfactorily.
One soft spring afternoon, there came rolling up to his residence the royal carriage, carrying the Emperor Felicitas himself. The Swami received the monarch with that easy and gentle courtesy he extended to everybody.
‘What doth his Majesty require of me?’ he asked.
‘Indeed,’ cried the Emperor, ‘I wish my crown anywhere but on my head! What good is power if it leaves one craving for that which he most desires? I want that which I am denied, Swami, and which my heart is bursting for – the love of a woman! If thou hast magic power, as I am told, tell me how I can attain this?’
‘Is she so perverse?’
‘Perverse isn’t the word for it – she is ice, immovable as a rock! Yes,’ returned the Emperor, ‘she is as cold as she is beautiful; and I have put her in prison! Believe me, Swami, I cannot sleep, eat, or work, for I am intensely, hopelessly miserable.’
‘I am truly sorry to see thy Majesty in such a plight,’ remarked Swami. ‘But why didst thou place the lady thou lovest in a prison? It seems a high-handed way of dealing with a subject; truly a mighty strange method of inducing her love?’
‘I was put in a quandary,’ replied Felicitas, for he knew there was no good gained by attempting to deceive the thought-reader. ‘I was suddenly surprised by visitors as I was attempting to detain her, when a craven spirit entered me, and I denounced her as a would-be murderer.’
‘Did she endeavour to harm thee?’ inquired Swami.
‘Yes, truly she raised her life-preserver to strike me if I touched her.’
‘But she did it in self-defence, evidently,’ retorted Swami, while a bright light illumined his dreamy eyes. ‘Besides, those ebony trifles that ladies sometimes carry do not kill, they do but temporarily paralyse the part they touch.’
‘Oh, it matters little now, what they do. I wish she had killed me outright; anything but this dreadful torture of doubt to go through. This frightful fear nearly drives me mad – I wish it were all over.’
‘What?’ inquired Swami, wishful to obtain a clear command from the king in so many words, for his thoughts were in a state of the wildest confusion.
‘The trial, the trial! I dread it. I wish I had never sent that warrant. The Crown Prosecutor has got the case in hand, and, Swami, I am ashamed of it. Help me, I pray thee, and tell me how it will all end, and I will well reward thee.’
Swami soon perceived wherein the Emperor’s chief trouble lay. ‘I see by the brainwaves emanating from thee that the woman thou lovest is in confinement in the first-class misdemeanants’ quarters, in the Metropolitan Prison. Now that will do; I know enough.’
Then the Emperor, remembering that the real object of his visit was not yet accomplished, blurted out – ‘I desire to learn the issue of the trial, that is my chief care at present.’
‘Of that I am aware, Sire,’ replied Swami. ‘Thou desirest to learn the issue of the trial on thine own account. I perfectly understand it. In the meantime, I would advise that Mercia be allowed her liberty, subject to her own recognisances. It will be more advisable from every point of view, lest thy subjects deem thee harsh and unjust towards her.’
‘Ha, Sorcerer, thou knowest her name! Who told it thee?’ exclaimed Felicitas in much surprise.
‘Thyself,’ replied the Soul-Reader. ‘I read it on thy brain. Moreover, fear, more than love, predominates within thy bosom. Thy Majesty doth dread the testimony of the witnesses arrayed against thee.’
‘I do not deny it,’ returned Felicitas, for he was subdued by the two-fold influence of anxiety concerning the impending case, and awe of the Soul-reader’s power to divine his thought. ‘But I must own it gives me more uneasiness the testimony of Mercia herself, for none will doubt her word.’
‘Then, let me advise thy Majesty to withdraw the charge and set the lady at liberty forthwith.’
Felicitas, looking ill at ease, endeavoured to take the implied rebuke lightly. ‘The law still holds good that “a king can do no wrong”. But Swami,’ he continued in a pleading tone, ‘thine advice is good if my way be not: tell me first what the issue of the trial will be, and I will then accommodate myself to circumstances.’
‘Be it so,’ answered Swami, rising from his seat and conducting the Emperor into his library. From thence he led him into an inner room, which having no window was in a state of complete darkness.
‘Presently,’ explained Swami, ‘I will illumine the sensitive plate on which the scene is projected from my brain, and show to thy Majesty three pictures of the scenes which will certainly be enacted at the court, during the coming trial. For I find that the case will come off independently of thy action. I can only now advise what course thy Majesty can best take concerning it.’
Then Swami, having all the results in readiness of his wonderful instrument – the psycho-register – touched a spring, and forthwith an immense illuminated picture appeared, filling one side of the room and representing a scene in the Great Hall of the Court, almost dazzling in its brilliancy of colouring. So complete was Felicitas’ surprise that he started back, for the strange vividness of the scene made him nervous; but Swami, accustomed to finding his visitors startled, reassured him.
‘Sire,’ said he, ‘be not alarmed, there is nothing to hurt thy Majesty.’
It proved, in truth, a most wonderful and striking picture of the Great Justice Hall in the Metropolitan Court. Tiers of seats were filled to overflowing with the elite of Great Britain, and Ireland, Berlin, Paris, and most of the European Continent; nobles and great dames, and even several crowned heads, had assembled from all parts to see the cause celebre.
In the dock was seated Mercia, looking calm, beautiful, and self-possessed. Innumerable opera glasses were being levelled at her by both sexes; while busy barristers in their black gowns and white wigs scanned their note-books. The place set apart for newspaper reporters was filled with representatives of the press setting in order their respective phonographs, which were to register the whole proceedings of the case.
On his feet stood the Crown Prosecutor, stating his case, while Geometrus was seated at one side, but no Emperor Felicitas could be discovered anywhere: indeed, he was conspicuous by his absence, seeing he was the only witness in his own case.
Felicitas gazed in amazement at the immense group photographed there; exclaiming from time to time, as he recognised each member of the nobility with whom he was acquainted, from the Duke of Northumberland to Nicholas of Russia and Louis of France.
‘Well, I must say, they’re all most excellent likenesses – they look, indeed, like living pictures. What a treat they are getting! An Emperor in a witness-box isn’t an every-day occurrence, to be sure! And, oh, there’s Mercia, how pale, how beautiful, how sad she appears! Ah, Swami, I have no heart to go on with this prosecution. I love her – I would die for her – canst thou not exercise thy magic and make her love me?’
‘I possess no power over the human heart,’ returned Swami. ‘My work is to make known futurity to a slight extent.’
‘Would she marry me if I were free?’
‘She is destined for another, far beneath thy Majesty in social position; but who can give her a heart wholly devoted to her.’
‘I am aware that Mercia is in love already. That fellow Geometrus desires her, and she loves him; at all events, she told me as much. I suppose thy prophecy refers to him. Turn on the next scene, if it be ready, for I would learn all with as great a speed as possible.’
Upon hearing this request Swami pressed another button, and the room was enveloped in darkness, and the picture vanished altogether from sight. The next picture which appeared upon the crystal plate portrayed the court with the same visitors in similar order as before, but with this difference. The serious expression which the countenances of all present wore in the first instance was now changed to that of intense excitement in some, while the greater part of the audience seemed bursting with merriment.
Mercia, on her part, was blushing; Geometrus was scowling, while all the barristers were endeavouring to conceal their merriment by fluttering their pocket-handkerchiefs under the pretence of blowing their noses. Mercia’s counsel wore an air of happy triumph, which appeared to indicate complete satisfaction with his own good management of the case. Felicitas was absent, as before, but his Empress was among the audience, looking as flushed and angered as an injured wife might well be.
‘What the deuce is everybody laughing at?’ queried the Emperor, while a deep frown crossed his face.
‘Canst not thy Majesty comprehend the situation?’
‘No, I do not,’ answered Felicitas. ‘Tell me the meaning of it all.’
‘Time alone will show the full development. There is sufficient pictured to give thy Majesty ample warning.’
‘It is easy enough to see that I shall be made a pretty laughing-stock for the whole world. They have worked some vile trick upon me – that is very evident. Strange that thou art unable to explain what it is!’
‘We have had enough of this,’ observed Swami, as he pressed the extinguishing button, producing perfect darkness. ‘We will now show the closing scene and dismiss the matter for tonight. Thine hour of trial is at hand. But see, here is Mercia’s hour of triumph, mark how everybody is showing her honour, and offering their congratulations.’
However striking these photo-crystal pictures had appeared, this last, without doubt, displayed the most stirring scene. It represented the intense joy of a great multitude, who were offering their congratulations, and testifying their admiration of one who had gone through a severe ordeal, out of which she had come victorious.
‘’Tis the want of this that’s brought my trouble,’ murmured Felicitas. ‘If I had Mercia’s love, then wouldst thou see how pious I could be.’
‘Is a child contented wholly when one desire is satisfied? No, he cries hourly for new toys and new delights. Thy Majesty would weary in course of time with the beauteous Mercia, as thou hast wearied of thy spouse. Sire, be content; as thou hast made thy bed, so must thou lie upon it.’
The Emperor fell silent for a moment, and then nodded. ‘This night urgent affairs of state shall summon me to Berlin. Good-bye, Swami, for the present. We shall see whether thy Soul-reading crystal plate has discovered to us the false or the true.’
‘How convenient to be a king, and know naught of the penalties of wrong-doing,’ thought Swami, as he conducted the monarch to the great doors, outside which his carriage stood in readiness.
In consequence of Swami’s advice, the Emperor at the proper quarters intimated his desire to bestow the royal pardon on the Mercia; which command being as quickly carried out as officialism would admit, she was made acquainted with her position with little delay. When the governor of the prison read the document to Mercia which contained the so-called ‘pardon’, an indignant flush rose to her cheeks.
‘Ah!’ she cried, ‘the Emperor generously sends me a pardon before it is solicited, for a crime I have never committed! His clemency oppresses me – it is really more than I can accept.’
‘It is certainly most unparalleled in prison records,’ remarked the governor, who looked mystified. ‘I don’t know of a similar instance in all my experience. The pardon should be accorded after the sentence is passed, should the prisoner be found guilty. I understand that his Gracious Majesty being himself the prosecutor, departs from the ordinary routine observed in such matters. He desires to set thee at liberty without further delay.’
‘I cannot accept his Majesty’s clemency,’ repeated Mercia after a pause. ‘The case is in readiness, my counsel informs me, and witnesses are fully prepared to establish my innocence. I will therefore remain here.’
The Great Justice Hall, as it was named, was large enough to hold several thousands of persons, who on this occasion of unprecedented interest availed themselves of it without delay. A long line of carriages containing the elite of society awaited the opening of the great door with that admirable spirit of patience which the aristocracy display on great occasions. A few of these vehicles were drawn by horses, but most were impelled by electric motive force.
By the time the Court was opened every available seat was filled, not only by the elite of the Empire, but by members of the Continental aristocracy also, including two Crowned Heads among their number. It was not every day that an Emperor appeared in the witness box, and on such an unparalleled occasion it was necessary to make an effort and not miss such a rare treat.
Of course, the newspapers circulating in the Teutonic Empire were much too circumspect to hint at the true aspect of the affair. To have anticipated evidence; or to have expressed an opinion on a case still pending would have led to serious difficulties, proving most embarrassing to the proprietors. A distracting shade of mystery surrounded the coming trial, making it particularly attractive to everybody.
‘What glorious fun!’ cried the young sprig of nobility. ‘Felicitas falling out with his lady Astronomer. I wouldn’t miss it for worlds!’
‘What a disgraceful episode in the annals of Royalty!’ remarked the elderly prude, who was as anxious as anyone to listen to the forthcoming details.
‘I wouldn’t be Mercia for millions!’ exclaimed the serious young lady. ‘It is altogether frightful to have such dealings with a man!’ She showed her abhorrence of such indecency by bringing her opera glasses to scan the scene more critically.
‘This comes of the preposterous advancement of women,’ observed a failed scientist of the male sex. ‘Had the Astronomer Royal been a man such a scene could not have occurred.’
‘If it be a political intrigue, how can sex affect her loyalty? The same might have happened with a variation, had the Astronomer Royal been male,’ returned his neighbour.
‘It is a love-intrigue, ending with the usual quarrel,’ whispered an elderly Solomon, wise in the knowledge of the world’s weakness.
‘I thought Mercia incapable of love-intrigues, or any other, being a perfect model of all the virtues,’ answered his neighbour.
‘All women are “perfect” till they’re tried,’ uttered the same cynic.
‘It will be sinfully disappointing if the case is hushed up,’ whispered one man to his neighbour, in another part of the Hall. ‘The Emperor is non est: he has bunked!’
‘What! Has he fled? Impossible! He dares not do so. He threw the gauntlet, and must abide the issue. He cannot run away!’
‘All the same, he is off, gone to Berlin on important State affairs, leaving word that the trial could be abandoned altogether, or take its chance without him.’
‘I hope it won’t be permitted to fall through. It would be monstrous after all this fuss and preparation.’
Just before half-past ten, disengaged barristers, who came to see and hear for the sake of gaining experience, took their appointed seats. Counsel engaged in the case, arrayed in gown and wig, appeared also, whose capabilities were freely discussed by the onlookers.
But when Mercia entered the Hall, escorted by the renowned Swami, so universal was the feeling in her favour, that a great burst of applause greeted her appearance. Mercia smiled and bowed her head in acknowledgment of the sympathy accorded her, while attendant ushers vainly called for silence. While this commotion was going on, the three Judges, attired as in days of old, took their seats with suitable solemnity; the Court opened with the same formularies as had been in use for hundreds of years, for the Courts of Law more than any other institution cling to the ancient order of things with tenacity.
After a short delay the auditory was startled by hearing the charge delivered:
‘Mercia Montgomery, you are charged with feloniously attempting the life of His Imperial Majesty, Albert Felicitas, Supreme Ruler and Governor of Great Britain and Ireland, Emperor of the Teutonic, Indian, and African Empires, which murderous attempt is accounted High Treason by the law of these Realms. Do you plead Guilty or not Guilty?’
Before the accused had time to give her answer, the Public Prosecutor interfered.
‘I am empowered to convey to the prisoner the favour of his Imperial Majesty’s clemency. Taking into consideration the prisoner’s long and valuable service rendered to her country, also the great loyalty she has ever evinced towards her Sovereign during that period of faithful service, the Emperor has decided to overlook the sudden outburst of passion made by his otherwise faithful subject, and illustrious Astronomer, and has therefore conveyed to her his Royal Pardon, in proper form, forthwith.’
Mercia, motioning her counsel to keep his seat a moment longer, and rising to her full height, replied, ‘Being altogether innocent of the crime of which I am charged, I am unable to accept the clemency offered by his Most Gracious Majesty. It will be soon enough to pray for pardon when I am proved guilty. I will leave this Court with my name unsullied, or hide my head in shame forever.’
When everybody had quieted down, Mercia’s counsel stood up and requested that the Public Prosecutor should state his case, to which demand the Judges agreed. Thereupon, the Emperor’s counsel made his charge according to the way he had been instructed, but having no witnesses to produce, he concluded quickly, and the Defence was commenced without delay.
Rising to his feet, Mercia’s counsel proceeded with his speech.
‘Today I am placed in a position as painful to me as a subject, as it is unique in the annals of a Law Court: I shall have to accuse my Sovereign of conduct so base that the meanest subject of his Realms would blush to be found guilty of the like.
‘I am in a position to show that the Emperor’s visits to his Astronomer were not made either in the interests of science, or those of his subjects. On the contrary, these interviews were made with the intention of corrupting her pure mind, and of beguiling her away from her duty.
‘By his artful insinuations, he endeavoured to lead her to disregard her vows of abstention from Love, or Marriage, with a view of paving the way for his own purposes. Like the Eastern fable of Eve and the Serpent, she listened to the voice of the Tempter without knowing he was planning her downfall. But luckier than our First Mother, Mercia discovered her mistake before touching the forbidden fruit.
‘At length, mortified and indignant, she essayed to leave him, when he endeavoured to forcibly detain her; upon which she raised her ebony life-preserver to warn him from trespassing on her person.
‘At this juncture he was surprised by Geometrus, who was amazed at a scene so unexpected. Embarrassed at being caught at such a moment, he tried to explain away the difficulty, and turned the tables upon the lady, by accusing her of some failure in duty; at this moment, who should emerge from a corner of the apartment, which was partially concealed by a large screen, but Mr Sadbag.
‘It appears that this gentleman, having just purchased a new-fangled phonograph as a gift for one of his grandchildren, carried it to Mistress Mercia with a view to recording her conversation, which he expected would prove instructive and interesting to his grandchild.
‘I will now call upon Mr Sadbag to open his instrument, and give us the dialogue that was so unintentionally recorded therein; but which I am afraid will prove more interesting to the company present, than edifying or instructive to that gentleman’s progeny.’
Mr Sadbag sprang to his feet, and taking up the mysterious parcel proceeded to the witness box, when he requested a few moments’ grace to adjust the mechanism of his unique witness; after which was heard in the most natural tones the voices of the Emperor and Mercia.
‘Isn’t that machine playing it low on the lady?’ whispered Prince Osbert to Louis, his neighbour, as the phonograph reeled off all it had recorded.
‘Hush,’ returned the French Emperor, ‘there’s a volley of kisses going off – be quiet, pray!’
All eyes regarded the beautiful culprit seated in the witness box with increased interest. ‘Oh, thou guilty creature – think shame to thyself!’ the ladies’ looks said as plainly as possible.
‘He’s having a good time of it!’ whispered one spectator to his neighbour.
‘She’s no better than she should be, after all!’ muttered another.
‘Such pretty lips were made for kissing!’ remarked another.
‘Oh, the hussy!’ said one woman to her husband. ‘Don’t look at her. What a cheek, to face it out like this!’
These various remarks, and many more besides, occupied but a few seconds for delivery, for the Usher calling out silence, on hearing the low murmur of voices, the machine began talking again.
As the instrument gave utterance to the rest of the story, only one feeling prevailed throughout that great assembly – admiration for the noble character of the woman sitting there before them, whose flushed cheek and lowered eyelids evidenced her modesty. When the excitement had somewhat subsided, she rose to her feet, and turning her gaze with an air of modest dignity upon the people, she addressed them.
‘Dear friends; my Lords,’ she said, ‘it is true that this instrument has been instrumental in rendering undeniable testimony of the value of the evidence placed before you. Nevertheless, had I been aware that such was Mr Sadbag’s intention, my place at this justice bar would never have been filled.’
‘That will do, Mr Sadbag,’ said the senior Judge. ‘We have heard quite enough to enable us to arrive at a decision. The prisoner – I mean, the accused – is found Not Guilty of the charge against her. The lady will now leave the Court without a stain on her character. This case ought never to have come before the Court at all.’
As soon as the trial was concluded, the reporters rushed out en masse to send their respective recordings to the editors of the various journals they represented. Never before had they such a titbit to offer their employers as was now their good luck to possess. A love scene between their Emperor and his astronomer, delivered in a dialogue wherein the actual voices were reproduced, was a treat not to be met with every day.
At least a hundred delicate voice-recorders had caught the sound-waves from Sadbag’s phonograph, and borrowing the tones of Felicitas and Mercia in their never-to-be-forgotten colloquy gave them a value unprecedented in all time. As soon as it got abroad that their proprietors were in possession of these treasures, hundreds of speculators offered enormous prices for their purchase, with a view of reeling out their contents to admiring and appreciative audiences throughout the globe. Before long, all the homage due to a great hero was rendered unto Mercia, just as Felicitas had seen pictured in the psycho-development the day before.
‘I thought to bring her low – to humiliate her,’ muttered Felicitas bitterly, as he read the story in Berlin, ‘but alas, I have only brought about a public triumph for her, and public dishonour to myself. What good is it looking into futurity? I cannot control the current of events; all will take place exactly as if I had known nothing.’
And so it did, as the cry spreading itself through every quarter of the vast Empire was caught up in wild delight – Long live Mercia, our Empress! – being echoed from every part, by people of every caste and every creed.