Mary Stuart: A Tragedy Part 11

See! mercy beams upon thy radiant brow; Let the reflection of its cheering light Fall on a wretched princess, who concerns Britain and France alike.

ELIZABETH.

No further, count!

Let us not mix two inconsistent things; If France be truly anxious for my hand, It must partake my interests, and renounce Alliance with my foes.

AUBESPINE.

In thine own eyes Would she not seem to act unworthily, If in this joyous treaty she forgot This hapless queen, the widow of her king; In whose behalf her honor and her faith Are bound to plead for grace.

ELIZABETH.

Thus urged, I know To rate this intercession at its worth; France has discharged her duties as a friend, I will fulfil my own as England's queen.

[She bows to the French amba.s.sadors, who, with the other gentlemen, retire respectfully.

[1] Till the time of Charles the First, the Knights of the Garter wore the blue ribbon with the George about their necks, as they still do the collars, on great days.--TRANSLATOR.

SCENE III.

Enter BURLEIGH, LEICESTER, and TALBOT.

The QUEEN takes her seat.

BURLEIGH.

Ill.u.s.trious sovereign, thou crown'st to-day The fervent wishes of thy people; now We can rejoice in the propitious days Which thou bestowest upon us; and we look No more with fear and trembling towards the time Which, charged with storms, futurity presented.

Now, but one only care disturbs this land; It is a sacrifice which every voice Demands; Oh! grant but this and England's peace Will be established now and evermore.

ELIZABETH.

What wish they still, my lord? Speak.

BURLEIGH.

They demand The Stuart's head. If to thy people thou Wouldst now secure the precious boon of freedom, And the fair light of truth so dearly won, Then she must die; if we are not to live In endless terror for thy precious life The enemy must fall; for well thou know'st That all thy Britons are not true alike; Romish idolatry has still its friends In secret, in this island, who foment The hatred of our enemies. Their hearts All turn toward this Stuart; they are leagued With the two plotting brothers of Lorrain, The foes inveterate of thy house and name.

'Gainst thee this raging faction hath declared A war of desolation, which they wage With the deceitful instruments of h.e.l.l.

At Rheims, the cardinal archbishop's see, There is the a.r.s.enal from which they dart These lightnings; there the school of regicide; Thence, in a thousand shapes disguised, are sent Their secret missionaries to this isle; Their bold and daring zealots; for from thence Have we not seen the third a.s.sa.s.sin come?

And inexhausted is the direful breed Of secret enemies in this abyss.

While in her castle sits at Fotheringay, The Ate [1] of this everlasting war, Who, with the torch of love, spreads flames around; For her who sheds delusive hopes on all, Youth dedicates itself to certain death; To set her free is the pretence--the aim Is to establish her upon the throne.

For this accursed House of Guise denies Thy sacred right; and in their mouths thou art A robber of the throne, whom chance has crowned.

By them this thoughtless woman was deluded, Proudly to style herself the Queen of England; No peace can be with her, and with her house; [Their hatred is too b.l.o.o.d.y, and their crimes Too great;] thou must resolve to strike, or suffer-- Her life is death to thee, her death thy life.

ELIZABETH.

My lord, you bear a melancholy office; I know the purity which guides your zeal, The solid wisdom which informs your speech; And yet I hate this wisdom, when it calls For blood, I hate it in my inmost soul.

Think of a milder counsel--Good my Lord Of Shrewsbury, we crave your judgment here.

TALBOT.

[Desire you but to know, most gracious queen, What is for your advantage, I can add Nothing to what my lord high-treasurer Has urged; then, for your welfare, let the sentence Be now confirmed--this much is proved already: There is no surer method to avert The danger from your head and from the state.

Should you in this reject our true advice, You can dismiss your council. We are placed Here as your counsellors, but to consult The welfare of this land, and with our knowledge And our experience we are bound to serve you!

But in what's good and just, most gracious queen, You have no need of counsellors, your conscience Knows it full well, and it is written there.

Nay, it were overstepping our commission If we attempted to instruct you in it.

ELIZABETH.

Yet speak, my worthy Lord of Shrewsbury, 'Tis not our understanding fails alone, Our heart too feels it wants some sage advice.]

TALBOT.

Well did you praise the upright zeal which fires Lord Burleigh's loyal breast; my bosom, too, Although my tongue be not so eloquent, Beats with no weaker, no less faithful pulse.

Long may you live, my queen, to be the joy Of your delighted people, to prolong Peace and its envied blessings in this realm.

Ne'er hath this isle beheld such happy days Since it was governed by its native kings.

Oh, let it never buy its happiness With its good name; at least, may Talbot's eyes Be closed in death e'er this shall come to pa.s.s.

ELIZABETH.

Forbid it, heaven, that our good name be stained!

TALBOT.

Then must you find some other way than this To save thy kingdom, for the sentence pa.s.sed Of death against the Stuart is unjust.

You cannot upon her p.r.o.nounce a sentence Who is not subject to you.

ELIZABETH.

Then, it seems, My council and my parliament have erred; Each bench of justice in the land is wrong, Which did with one accord admit this right.

TALBOT (after a pause).

The proof of justice lies not in the voice Of numbers; England's not the world, nor is Thy parliament the focus, which collects The vast opinion of the human race.

This present England is no more the future Than 'tis the past; as inclination changes, Thus ever ebbs and flows the unstable tide Of public judgment. Say not, then, that thou Must act as stern necessity compels, That thou must yield to the importunate Pet.i.tions of thy people; every hour Thou canst experience that thy will is free.

Make trial, and declare thou hatest blood, And that thou wilt protect thy sister's life; Show those who wish to give thee other counsels, That here thy royal anger is not feigned, And thou shalt see how stern necessity Can vanish, and what once was t.i.tled justice Into injustice be converted: thou Thyself must pa.s.s the sentence, thou alone Trust not to this unsteady, trembling reed, But hear the gracious dictates of thy heart.

G.o.d hath not planted rigor in the frame Of woman; and the founders of this realm, Who to the female hand have not denied The reins of government, intend by this To show that mercy, not severity, Is the best virtue to adorn a crown.

ELIZABETH.

Lord Shrewsbury is a fervent advocate For mine and England's enemy; I must Prefer those counsellors who wish my welfare.

TALBOT.

Her advocates have an invidious task!

None will, by speaking in her favor, dare To meet thy anger: stiffer, then, an old And faithful counsellor (whom naught on earth Can tempt on the grave's brink) to exercise The pious duty of humanity.

It never shall be said that, in thy council, Pa.s.sion and interest could find a tongue, While mercy's pleading voice alone was mute, All circ.u.mstances have conspired against her; Thou ne'er hast seen her face, and nothing speaks Within thy breast for one that's stranger to thee.

I do not take the part of her misdeeds; They say 'twas she who planned her husband's murder: 'Tis true that she espoused his murderer.

A grievous crime, no doubt; but then it happened In darksome days of trouble and dismay, In the stern agony of civil war, When she, a woman, helpless and hemmed in By a rude crowd of rebel va.s.sals, sought Protection in a powerful chieftain's arms.

G.o.d knows what arts were used to overcome her!

For woman is a weak and fragile thing.

ELIZABETH.

Woman's not weak; there are heroic souls Among the s.e.x; and, in my presence, sir, I do forbid to speak of woman's weakness.

TALBOT.

Misfortune was for thee a rigid school; Thou wast not stationed on the sunny side Of life; thou sawest no throne, from far, before thee; The grave was gaping for thee at thy feet.

At Woodstock, and in London's gloomy tower, 'Twas there the gracious father of this land Taught thee to know thy duty, by misfortune.

No flatterer sought thee there: there learned thy soul, Far from the noisy world and its distractions, To commune with itself, to think apart, And estimate the real goods of life.

No G.o.d protected this poor sufferer: Transplanted in her early youth to France, The court of levity and thoughtless joys, There, in the round of constant dissipation, She never heard the earnest voice of truth; She was deluded by the glare of vice, And driven onward by the stream of ruin.

Hers was the vain possession of a face, And she outshone all others of her s.e.x As far in beauty, as in n.o.ble birth.

ELIZABETH.

Collect yourself, my Lord of Shrewsbury; Bethink you we are met in solemn council.

Those charms must surely be without compare, Which can engender, in an elder's blood, Such fire. My Lord of Leicester, you alone Are silent; does the subject which has made Him eloquent, deprive you of your speech?