Mary Stuart Read online

Before his conquering judgment, and the soft

  Persuasion of his tongue! So I returned

  Back to the bosom of the holy church,

  And at his feet abjured my heresies.

  MARY.

  Then of those happy thousands you are one,

  Whom he, with his celestial eloquence,

  Like the immortal preacher of the mount,

  Has turned and led to everlasting joy!

  MORTIMER.

  The duties of his office called him soon

  To France, and I was sent by him to Rheims,

  Where, by the Jesuits' anxious labor, priests

  Are trained to preach our holy faith in England.

  There, 'mongst the Scots, I found the noble Morgan,

  And your true Lesley, Ross's learned bishop,

  Who pass in France their joyless days of exile.

  I joined with heartfelt zeal these worthy men,

  And fortified my faith. As I one day

  Roamed through the bishop's dwelling, I was struck

  With a fair female portrait; it was full

  Of touching wond'rous charms; with magic might

  It moved my inmost soul, and there I stood

  Speechless, and overmastered by my feelings.

  "Well," cried the bishop, "may you linger thus

  In deep emotion near this lovely face!

  For the most beautiful of womankind,

  Is also matchless in calamity.

  She is a prisoner for our holy faith,

  And in your native land, alas! she suffers."

  [MARY is in great agitation. He pauses.

  MARY.

  Excellent man! All is not lost, indeed,

  While such a friend remains in my misfortunes!

  MORTIMER.

  Then he began, with moving eloquence,

  To paint the sufferings of your martyrdom;

  He showed me then your lofty pedigree,

  And your descent from Tudor's royal house.

  He proved to me that you alone have right

  To reign in England, not this upstart queen,

  The base-born fruit of an adult'rous bed,

  Whom Henry's self rejected as a bastard.

  [He from my eyes removed delusion's mist,

  And taught me to lament you as a victim,

  To honor you as my true queen, whom I,

  Deceived, like thousands of my noble fellows,

  Had ever hated as my country's foe.]

  I would not trust his evidence alone;

  I questioned learned doctors; I consulted

  The most authentic books of heraldry;

  And every man of knowledge whom I asked

  Confirmed to me your claim's validity.

  And now I know that your undoubted right

  To England's throne has been your only wrong,

  This realm is justly yours by heritage,

  In which you innocently pine as prisoner.

  MARY.

  Oh, this unhappy right!-'tis this alone

  Which is the source of all my sufferings.

  MORTIMER.

  Just at this time the tidings reached my ears

  Of your removal from old Talbot's charge,

  And your committal to my uncle's care.

  It seemed to me that this disposal marked

  The wond'rous, outstretched hand of favoring heaven;

  It seemed to be a loud decree of fate,

  That it had chosen me to rescue you.

  My friends concur with me; the cardinal

  Bestows on me his counsel and his blessing,

  And tutors me in the hard task of feigning.

  The plan in haste digested, I commenced

  My journey homewards, and ten days ago

  On England's shores I landed. Oh, my queen.

  [He pauses.

  I saw then, not your picture, but yourself-

  Oh, what a treasure do these walls enclose!

  No prison this, but the abode of gods,

  More splendid far than England's royal court.

  Happy, thrice happy he, whose envied lot

  Permits to breathe the selfsame air with you!

  It is a prudent policy in her

  To bury you so deep! All England's youth

  Would rise at once in general mutiny,

  And not a sword lie quiet in its sheath:

  Rebellion would uprear its giant head,

  Through all this peaceful isle, if Britons once

  Beheld their captive queen.

  MARY.

  'Twere well with her,

  If every Briton saw her with your eyes!

  MORTIMER.

  Were each, like me, a witness of your wrongs,

  Your meekness, and the noble fortitude

  With which you suffer these indignities-

  Would you not then emerge from all these trials

  Like a true queen? Your prison's infamy,

  Hath it despoiled your beauty of its charms?

  You are deprived of all that graces life,

  Yet round you life and light eternal beam.

  Ne'er on this threshold can I set my foot,

  That my poor heart with anguish is not torn,

  Nor ravished with delight at gazing on you.

  Yet fearfully the fatal time draws near,

  And danger hourly growing presses on.

  I can delay no longer-can no more

  Conceal the dreadful news.

  MARY.

  My sentence then!

  It is pronounced? Speak freely-I can bear it.

  MORTIMER.

  It is pronounced! The two-and-forty judges

  Have given the verdict, "guilty"; and the Houses

  Of Lords and Commons, with the citizens

  Of London, eagerly and urgently

  Demand the execution of the sentence:-

  The queen alone still craftily delays,

  That she may be constrained to yield, but not

  From feelings of humanity or mercy.

  MARY (collected).

  Sir, I am not surprised, nor terrified.

  I have been long prepared for such a message.

  Too well I know my judges. After all

  Their cruel treatment I can well conceive

  They dare not now restore my liberty.

  I know their aim: they mean to keep me here

  In everlasting bondage, and to bury,

  In the sepulchral darkness of my prison,

  My vengeance with me, and my rightful claims.

  MORTIMER.

  Oh, no, my gracious queen;-they stop not there:

  Oppression will not be content to do

  Its work by halves:-as long as e'en you live,

  Distrust and fear will haunt the English queen.

  No dungeon can inter you deep enough;

  Your death alone can make her throne secure.

  MARY.

  Will she then dare, regardless of the shame,

  Lay my crowned head upon the fatal block?

  MORTIMER.

  She will most surely dare it, doubt it not.

  MARY.

  And can she thus roll in the very dust

  Her own, and every monarch's majesty?

  MORTIMER.

  She thinks on nothing now but present danger,

  Nor looks to that which is so far removed.

  MARY.

  And fears she not the dread revenge of France?

  MORTIMER.

  With France she makes an everlasting peace;

  And gives to Anjou's duke her throne and hand.

  MARY.

  Will not the King of Spain rise up in arms?

  MORTIMER.

  She fears not a collected world in arms?

  If with her people she remains at peace.

  MARY.

  Were this a spectacle for British eyes?

  MORTIMER.

  This land, my queen, has, in these latter days,

  Seen many
a royal woman from the throne

  Descend and mount the scaffold:-her own mother

  And Catherine Howard trod this fatal path;

  And was not Lady Grey a crowned head?

  MARY (after a pause).

  No, Mortimer, vain fears have blinded you;

  'Tis but the honest care of your true heart,

  Which conjures up these empty apprehensions.

  It is not, sir, the scaffold that I fear:

  There are so many still and secret means

  By which her majesty of England may

  Set all my claims to rest. Oh, trust me, ere

  An executioner is found for me,

  Assassins will be hired to do their work.

  'Tis that which makes me tremble, Mortimer:

  I never lift the goblet to my lips

  Without an inward shuddering, lest the draught

  May have been mingled by my sister's love.

  MORTIMER.

  No:-neither open or disguised murder

  Shall e'er prevail against you:-fear no more;

  All is prepared;-twelve nobles of the land

  Are my confederates, and have pledged to-day,

  Upon the sacrament, their faith to free you,

  With dauntless arm, from this captivity.

  Count Aubespine, the French ambassador,

  Knows of our plot, and offers his assistance:

  'Tis in his palace that we hold our meetings.

  NARY.

  You make me tremble, sir, but not for joy!

  An evil boding penetrates my heart.

  Know you, then, what you risk? Are you not scared

  By Babington and Tichburn's bloody heads,

  Set up as warnings upon London's bridge?

  Nor by the ruin of those many victims

  Who have, in such attempts, found certain death,

  And only made my chains the heavier?

  Fly hence, deluded, most unhappy youth!

  Fly, if there yet be time for you, before

  That crafty spy, Lord Burleigh, track your schemes,

  And mix his traitors in your secret plots.

  Fly hence:-as yet, success hath never smiled

  On Mary Stuart's champions.

  MORTIMER.

  I am not scared

  By Babington and Tichburn's bloody heads

  Set up as warnings upon London's bridge;

  Nor by the ruin of those many victims

  Who have, in such attempts, found certain death:

  They also found therein immortal honor,

  And death, in rescuing you, is dearest bliss.

  MARY.

  It is in vain: nor force nor guile can save me:-

  My enemies are watchful, and the power

  Is in their hands. It is not Paulet only

  And his dependent host; all England guards

  My prison gates: Elizabeth's free will

  Alone can open them.

  MORTIMER.

  Expect not that.

  MARY.

  One man alone on earth can open them.

  MORTIMER.

  Oh, let me know his name!

  MARY.

  Lord Leicester.

  MORTIMER.

  He!

  [Starts back in wonder.

  The Earl of Leicester! Your most bloody foe,

  The favorite of Elizabeth! through him--

  MARY.

  If I am to be saved at all, 'twill be

  Through him, and him alone. Go to him, sir;

  Freely confide in him: and, as a proof

  You come from me, present this paper to him.

  [She takes a paper from her bosom; MORTIMER draws back,

  and hesitates to take it.

  It doth contain my portrait:-take it, sir;

  I've borne it long about me; but your uncle's

  Close watchfulness has cut me off from all

  Communication with him;-you were sent

  By my good angel.

  [He takes it.

  MORTIMER.

  Oh, my queen! Explain

  This mystery.

  MARY.

  Lord Leicester will resolve it.

  Confide in him, and he'll confide in you.

  Who comes?

  KENNEDY (entering hastily).

  'Tis Paulet; and he brings with him

  A nobleman from court.

  MORTIMER.

  It is Lord Burleigh.

  Collect yourself, my queen, and strive to hear

  The news he brings with equanimity.

  [He retires through a side door, and KENNEDY follows him.

  SCENE VII.

  Enter LORD BURLEIGH, and PAULET.

  PAULET (to MARY).

  You wished to-day assurance of your fate;

  My Lord of Burleigh brings it to you now;

  Hear it with resignation, as beseems you.

  MARY.

  I hope with dignity, as it becomes

  My innocence, and my exalted station.

  BURLEIGH.

  I come deputed from the court of justice.

  MARY.

  Lord Burleigh lends that court his willing tongue,

  Which was already guided by his spirit.

  PAULET.

  You speak as if no stranger to the sentence.

  MARY.

  Lord Burleigh brings it; therefore do I know it.

  PAULET.

  [It would become you better, Lady Stuart,

  To listen less to hatred.

  MARY.

  I but name

  My enemy: I said not that I hate him.]

  But to the matter, sir.

  BURLEIGH.

  You have acknowledged

  The jurisdiction of the two-and-forty.

  MARY.

  My lord, excuse me, if I am obliged

  So soon to interrupt you. I acknowledged,

  Say you, the competence of the commission?

  I never have acknowledged it, my lord;

  How could I so? I could not give away

  My own prerogative, the intrusted rights

  Of my own people, the inheritance

  Of my own son, and every monarch's honor

  [The very laws of England say I could not.]

  It is enacted by the English laws

  That every one who stands arraigned of crime

  Shall plead before a jury of his equals:

  Who is my equal in this high commission?

  Kings only are my peers.

  BURLEIGH.

  But yet you heard

  The points of accusation, answered them

  Before the court--

  MARY.

  'Tis true, I was deceived

  By Hatton's crafty counsel:-he advised me,

  For my own honor, and in confidence

  In my good cause, and my most strong defence,

  To listen to the points of accusation,

  And prove their falsehoods. This, my lord, I did

  From personal respect for the lords' names,

  Not their usurped charge, which I disclaim.

  BURLEIGH.

  Acknowledge you the court, or not, that is

  Only a point of mere formality,

  Which cannot here arrest the course of justice.

  You breathe the air of England; you enjoy

  The law's protection, and its benefits;

  You therefore are its subject.

  MARY.

  Sir, I breathe

  The air within an English prison walls:

  Is that to live in England; to enjoy

  Protection from its laws? I scarcely know

  And never have I pledged my faith to keep them.

  I am no member of this realm; I am

  An independent, and a foreign queen.

  BURLEIGH.

  And do you think that the mere name of queen

  Can serve you as a charter to foment

  In other countries, with impunity,

  This
bloody discord? Where would be the state's

  Security, if the stern sword of justice

  Could not as freely smite the guilty brow

  Of the imperial stranger as the beggar's?

  MARY.

  I do not wish to be exempt from judgment,

  It is the judges only I disclaim.

  BURLEIGH.

  The judges? How now, madam? Are they then

  Base wretches, snatched at hazard from the crowd?

  Vile wranglers that make sale of truth and justice;

  Oppression's willing hirelings, and its tools?

  Are they not all the foremost of this land,

  Too independent to be else than honest,

  And too exalted not to soar above

  The fear of kings, or base servility?

  Are they not those who rule a generous people

  In liberty and justice; men, whose names

  I need but mention to dispel each doubt,

  Each mean suspicion which is raised against them?

  Stands not the reverend primate at their head,

  The pious shepherd of his faithful people,

  The learned Talbot, keeper of the seals,

  And Howard, who commands our conquering fleets?

  Say, then, could England's sovereign do more