Mary Stuart

SCENE VIII

Enter BURLEIGH and DAVISON, with a paper.

ELIZABETH   Well, Davison?DAVISON (approaches earnestly)           Your orders are obeyed,   My queen —ELIZABETH         What orders, sir?

[As she is about to take the paper, she shudders, and starts back.

                   Oh, God!BURLEIGH                        Obey   Thy people's voice; it is the voice of God.ELIZABETH (irresolute, as if in contest with herself)   Oh, my good lord, who will assure me now   That what I hear is my whole people's voice,   The voice of all the world! Ah! much I fear,   That, if I now should listen to the wish   Of the wild multitude, a different voice   Might soon be heard; – and that the very men,   Who now by force oblige me to this step,   May, when 'tis taken, heavily condemn me!

SCENE IX

Enter the EARL OF SHREWSBURY (who enters with great emotion).

SHREWSBURY   Hold fast, my queen, they wish to hurry thee;

[Seeing DAVISON with the paper.

   Be firm – or is it then decided? – is it   Indeed decided? I behold a paper   Of ominous appearance in his hand;   Let it not at this moment meet thy eyes,   My queen! —ELIZABETH         Good Shrewsbury! I am constrained —SHREWSBURY   Who can constrain thee? Thou art Queen of England,   Here must thy majesty assert its rights:   Command those savage voices to be silent,   Who take upon themselves to put constraint   Upon thy royal will, to rule thy judgment.   Fear only, blind conjecture, moves thy people;   Thou art thyself beside thyself; thy wrath   Is grievously provoked: thou art but mortal,   And canst not thus ascend the judgment seat.BURLEIGH   Judgment has long been past. It is not now   The time to speak but execute the sentence.KENT (who upon SHREWSBURY'S entry had retired, comes back)   The tumult gains apace; there are no means   To moderate the people.ELIZABETH (to SHREWSBURY)                See, my lord,   How they press on.SHREWSBURY             I only ask a respite;   A single word traced by thy hand decides   The peace, the happiness of all thy life!   Thou hast for years considered, let not then   A moment ruled by passion hurry thee —   But a short respite – recollect thyself!   Wait for a moment of tranquillity.BURLEIGH (violently)   Wait for it – pause – delay – till flames of fire   Consume the realm; until the fifth attempt   Of murder be successful! God, indeed,   Hath thrice delivered thee; thy late escape   Was marvellous, and to expect again   A miracle would be to tempt thy God!SHREWSBURY   That God, whose potent hand hath thrice preserved thee,   Who lent my aged feeble arm its strength   To overcome the madman: – he deserves   Thy confidence. I will not raise the voice   Of justice now, for now is not the time;   Thou canst not hear it in this storm of passion.   Yet listen but to this! Thou tremblest now   Before this living Mary – tremble rather   Before the murdered, the beheaded Mary.   She will arise, and quit her grave, will range   A fiend of discord, an avenging ghost,   Around thy realm, and turn thy people's hearts   From their allegiance. For as yet the Britons   Hate her, because they fear her; but most surely   Will they avenge her when she is no more.   They will no more behold the enemy   Of their belief, they will but see in her   The much-lamented issue of their kings   A sacrifice to jealousy and hate.   Then quickly shalt thou see the sudden change   When thou hast done the bloody deed; then go   Through London, seek thy people, which till now   Around thee swarmed delighted; thou shalt see   Another England, and another people;   For then no more the godlike dignity   Of justice, which subdued thy subjects' hearts,   Will beam around thee. Fear, the dread ally   Of tyranny, will shuddering march before thee,   And make a wilderness in every street —   The last, extremest crime thou hast committed.   What head is safe, if the anointed fall?ELIZABETH   Ah! Shrewsbury, you saved my life, you turned   The murderous steel aside; why let you not   The dagger take its course? then all these broils   Would have been ended; then, released from doubt,   And free from blame, I should be now at rest   In my still, peaceful grave. In very sooth   I'm weary of my life, and of my crown.   If Heaven decree that one of us two queens   Must perish, to secure the other's life —   And sure it must be so – why should not I   Be she who yields? My people must decide;   I give them back the sovereignty they gave.   God is my witness that I have not lived   For my own sake, but for my people's welfare.   If they expect from this false, fawning Stuart,   The younger sovereign, more happy days,   I will descend with pleasure from the throne,   Again repair to Woodstock's quiet bowers,   Where once I spent my unambitious youth;   Where far removed from all the vanities   Of earthly power, I found within myself   True majesty. I am not made to rule —   A ruler should be made of sterner stuff:   My heart is soft and tender. I have governed   These many years this kingdom happily,   But then I only needed to make happy:   Now, comes my first important regal duty,   And now I feel how weak a thing I am.BURLEIGH   Now by mine honor, when I hear my queen,   My royal liege, speak such unroyal words,   I should betray my office, should betray   My country, were I longer to be silent.   You say you love your people 'bove yourself,   Now prove it. Choose not peace for your own heart,   And leave your kingdom to the storms of discord.   Think on the church. Shall, with this papist queen   The ancient superstition be renewed?   The monk resume his sway, the Roman legate   In pomp march hither; lock our churches up,   Dethrone our monarchs? I demand of you   The souls of all your subjects – as you now   Shall act, they all are saved, or all are lost!   Here is no time for mercy; – to promote   Your people's welfare is your highest duty.   If Shrewsbury has saved your life, then I   Will save both you and England – that is more!ELIZABETH   I would be left alone. No consolation,   No counsel can be drawn from human aid   In this conjecture: – I will lay my doubts   Before the Judge of all: – I am resolved   To act as He shall teach. Withdraw, my lords.

[To DAVISON, who lays the paper on the table.

   You, sir, remain in waiting – close at hand.

[The lords withdraw, SHREWSBURY alone stands for a few moments before the QUEEN, regards her significantly, then withdraws slowly, and with an expression of the deepest anguish.

SCENE X

ELIZABETH alone.

   Oh! servitude of popularity!   Disgraceful slavery! How weary am I   Of flattering this idol, which my soul   Despises in its inmost depth! Oh! when   Shall I once more be free upon this throne?   I must respect the people's voice, and strive   To win the favor of the multitude,   And please the fancies of a mob, whom naught   But jugglers' tricks delight. O call not him   A king who needs must please the world: 'tis he   Alone, who in his actions does not heed   The fickle approbation of mankind.   Have I then practised justice, all my life   Shunned each despotic deed; have I done this   Only to bind my hands against this first,   This necessary act of violence?   My own example now condemns myself!   Had I but been a tyrant, like my sister,   My predecessor, I could fearless then   Have shed this royal blood: – but am I now   Just by my own free choice? No – I was forced   By stern necessity to use this virtue;   Necessity, which binds e'en monarch's wills.   Surrounded by my foes, my people's love   Alone supports me on my envied throne.   All Europe's powers confederate to destroy me;   The pope's inveterate decree declares me   Accursed and excommunicated. France   Betrays me with a kiss, and Spain prepares   At sea a fierce exterminating war;   Thus stand I, in contention with the world,   A poor defenceless woman: I must seek   To veil the spot in my imperial birth,   By which my father cast disgrace upon me:   In vain with princely virtues would I hide it;   The envious hatred of my enemies   Uncovers it, and places Mary Stuart,   A threatening fiend, before me evermore!

[Walking up and down, with quick and agitated steps.

   Oh, no! this fear must end. Her head must fall!   I will have peace. She is the very fury   Of my existence; a tormenting demon,   Which destiny has fastened on my soul.   Wherever I had planted me a comfort,   A flattering hope, my way was ever crossed   By this infernal viper! She has torn   My favorite, and my destined bridegroom from me.   The hated name of every ill I feel   Is Mary Stuart – were but she no more   On earth I should be free as mountain air.

[Standing still.

   With what disdain did she look down on me,   As if her eye should blast me like the lightning!   Poor feeble wretch! I bear far other arms,   Their touch is mortal, and thou art no more.

[Advancing to the table hastily, and taking the pen.

   I am a bastard, am I? Hapless wretch,   I am but so the while thou liv'st and breath'st.   Thy death will make my birth legitimate.   The moment I destroy thee is the doubt   Destroyed which hangs o'er my imperial right.   As soon as England has no other choice,   My mother's honor and my birthright triumphs!

[She signs with resolution; lets her pen then fall, and steps back with an expression of terror. After a pause she rings.

SCENE XI

ELIZABETH, DAVISON.

ELIZABETH   Where are their lordships?DAVISON                 They are gone to quell   The tumult of the people. The alarm   Was instantly appeased when they beheld   The Earl of Shrewsbury. That's he! exclaimed   A hundred voices – that's the man – he saved   The queen; hear him – the bravest man in England!   And now began the gallant Talbot, blamed   In gentle words the people's violence,   And used such strong, persuasive eloquence,   That all were pacified, and silently   They slunk away.ELIZABETH            The fickle multitude!   Which turns with every wind. Unhappy he   Who leans upon this reed! 'Tis well, Sir William;   You may retire again —

[As he is going towards the door.

               And, sir, this paper,   Receive it back; I place it in your hands.DAVISON (casts a look upon the paper, and starts back)   My gracious queen – thy name! 'tis then decided.ELIZABETH   I had but to subscribe it – I have done so —   A paper sure cannot decide – a name   Kills not.DAVISON         Thy name, my queen, beneath this paper   Is most decisive – kills – 'tis like the lightning,   Which blasteth as it flies! This fatal scroll   Commands the sheriff and commissioners   To take departure straight for Fotheringay,   And to the Queen of Scots announce her death,   Which must at dawn be put in execution.   There is no respite, no discretion here.   As soon as I have parted with this writ   Her race is run.ELIZABETH            Yes, sir, the Lord has placed   This weighty business in your feeble hands;   Seek him in prayer to light you with his wisdom;   I go – and leave you, sir, to do your duty.

[Going.

DAVISON   No; leave me not, my queen, till I have heard   Your will. The only wisdom that I need   Is, word for word, to follow your commands.   Say, have you placed this warrant in my hands   To see that it be speedily enforced?ELIZABETH   That you must do as your own prudence dictates.DAVISON (interrupting her quickly, and alarmed)   Not mine – oh, God forbid! Obedience is   My only prudence here. No point must now   Be left to be decided by your servant.   A small mistake would here be regicide,   A monstrous crime, from which my soul recoils.   Permit me, in this weighty act, to be   Your passive instrument, without a will: —   Tell me in plain, undoubted terms your pleasure,   What with the bloody mandate I should do.ELIZABETH   Its name declares its meaning.DAVISON                   Do you, then,   My liege, command its instant execution?ELIZABETH   I said not that; I tremble but to think it.DAVISON   Shall I retain it, then, 'till further orders?ELIZABETH   At your own risk; you answer the event.DAVISON   I! gracious heavens! Oh, speak, my queen, your pleasure!ELIZABETH   My pleasure is that this unhappy business   Be no more mentioned to me; that at last   I may be freed from it, and that forever.DAVISON   It costs you but a word – determine then   What shall I do with this mysterious scroll?ELIZABETH   I have declared it, plague me, sir, no longer.DAVISON   You have declared it, say you? Oh, my queen,   You have said nothing. Please, my gracious mistress,   But to remember —ELIZABETH (stamps on the ground)             Insupportable!DAVISON   Oh, be indulgent to me! I have entered   Unwittingly, not many months ago,   Upon this office; I know not the language   Of courts and kings. I ever have been reared   In simple, open wise, a plain blunt man.   Be patient with me; nor deny your servant   A light to lead him clearly to his duty.

[He approaches her in a supplicating posture, she turns her back on him; he stands in despair;

then speaks with a tone of resolution.

   Take, take again this paper – take it back!   Within my hands it is a glowing fire.   Select not me, my queen; select not me   To serve you in this terrible conjecture.ELIZABETH   Go, sir; – fulfil the duty of your office.[Exit

SCENE XII

DAVISON, then BURLEIGH.

DAVISON   She goes! She leaves me doubting and perplexed   With this dread paper! How to act I know not;   Should I retain it, should I forward it?

[To BURLEIGH, who enters.

   Oh! I am glad that you are come, my lord,   'Tis you who have preferred me to this charge;   Now free me from it, for I undertook it,   Unknowing how responsible it made me.   Let me then seek again the obscurity   In which you found me; this is not my place.BURLEIGH   How now? Take courage, sir! Where is the warrant?   The queen was with you.DAVISON                She has quitted me   In bitter anger. Oh, advise me, help me,   Save me from this fell agony of doubt!   My lord, here is the warrant: it is signed!BURLEIGH   Indeed! Oh, give it, give it me!DAVISON                     I may not.BURLEIGH   How!DAVISON      She has not yet explained her final will.BURLEIGH   Explained! She has subscribed it; – give it to me.DAVISON   I am to execute it, and I am not.   Great heavens! I know not what I am to do!BURLEIGH (urging more violently)   It must be now, this moment, executed.   The warrant, sir. You're lost if you delay.DAVISON   So am I also if I act too rashly.BURLEIGH   What strange infatuation. Give it me.

[Snatches the paper from him, and exit with it.

DAVISON   What would you? Hold? You will be my destruction.

ACT V

SCENE I

The Scene the same as in the First Act.

HANNAH KENNEDY in deep mourning, her eyes still red from weeping, in great but quiet anguish, is employed in sealing letters and parcels. Her sorrow often interrupts her occupation, and she is seen at such intervals to pray in silence. PAULET and DRURY, also in mourning, enter, followed by many servants, who bear golden and silver vessels, mirrors, paintings, and other valuables, and fill the back part of the stage with them. PAULET delivers to the NURSE a box of jewels and a paper, and seems to inform her by signs that it contains the inventory of the effects the QUEEN had brought with her. At the sight of these riches, the anguish of the NURSE is renewed; she sinks into a deep, glowing melancholy, during which DRURY, PAULET, and the servants silently retire.

MELVIL enters.

KENNEDY (screams aloud as soon as she observes him)   Melvil! Is it you? Behold I you again?MELVIL   Yes, faithful Kennedy, we meet once more.KENNEDY   After this long, long, painful separation!MELVIL   A most unhappy, bitter meeting this!KENNEDY   You come —MELVIL        To take an everlasting leave   Of my dear queen – to bid a last farewell!KENNEDY   And now at length, now on the fatal morn   Which brings her death, they grant our royal lady   The presence of her friends. Oh, worthy sir,   I will not question you, how you have fared,   Nor tell you all the sufferings we've endured,   Since you were torn away from us: alas!   There will be time enough for that hereafter.   O, Melvil, Melvil, why was it our fate   To see the dawn of this unhappy day?MELVIL   Let us not melt each other with our grief.   Throughout my whole remaining life, as long   As ever it may be, I'll sit and weep;   A smile shall never more light up these cheeks,   Ne'er will I lay this sable garb aside,   But lead henceforth a life of endless mourning.   Yet on this last sad day I will be firm;   Pledge me your word to moderate your grief;   And when the rest of comfort all bereft,   Abandoned to despair, wail round her, we   Will lead her with heroic resolution,   And be her staff upon the road to death!KENNEDY   Melvil! You are deceived if you suppose   The queen has need of our support to meet   Her death with firmness. She it is, my friend,   Who will exhibit the undaunted heart.   Oh! trust me, Mary Stuart will expire   As best becomes a heroine and queen!MELVIL   Received she firmly, then, the sad decree   Of death? – 'tis said that she was not prepared.KENNEDY   She was not; yet they were far other terrors   Which made our lady shudder: 'twas not death,   But her deliverer, which made her tremble.   Freedom was promised us; this very night   Had Mortimer engaged to bear us hence:   And thus the queen, perplexed 'twixt hope and fear,   And doubting still if she should trust her honor   And royal person to the adventurous youth,   Sat waiting for the morning. On a sudden   We hear a boisterous tumult in the castle;   Our ears are startled by repeated blows   Of many hammers, and we think we hear   The approach of our deliverers: hope salutes us,   And suddenly and unresisted wakes   The sweet desire of life. And now at once

The portals are thrown open – it is Paulet,

   Who comes to tell us – that – the carpenters   Erect beneath our feet the murderous scaffold!

[She turns aside, overpowered by excessive anguish.

MELVIL   O God in Heaven! Oh, tell me then how bore   The queen this terrible vicissitude?KENNEDY (after a pause, in which she has somewhat collected herself)   Not by degrees can we relinquish life;   Quick, sudden, in the twinkling of an eye,   The separation must be made, the change   From temporal to eternal life; and God   Imparted to our mistress at this moment   His grace, to cast away each earthly hope,   And firm and full of faith to mount the skies.   No sign of pallid fear dishonored her;   No word of mourning, 'till she heard the tidings   Of Leicester's shameful treachery, the sad fate   Of the deserving youth, who sacrificed   Himself for her; the deep, the bitter anguish   Of that old knight, who lost, through her, his last,   His only hope; till then she shed no tear —   'Twas then her tears began to flow, 'twas not   Her own, but others' woe which wrung them from her.MELVIL   Where is she now? Can you not lead me to her?KENNEDY   She spent the last remainder of the night   In prayer, and from her dearest friends she took   Her last farewell in writing: then she wrote   Her will2 with her own hand. She now enjoys   A moment of repose, the latest slumber   Refreshes her weak spirits.MELVIL                  Who attends her?KENNEDY   None but her women and physician Burgoyn:   You seem to look around you with surprise;   Your eyes appear to ask me what should mean   This show of splendor in the house of death.   Oh, sir, while yet we lived we suffered want;   But at our death plenty returns to us.

SCENE II

Enter MARGARET CURL.

KENNEDY   How, madam, fares the queen? Is she awake?CURL (drying her tears)   She is already dressed – she asks for you.KENNEDY   I go: —

[To MELVIL, who seems to wish to accompany her.

       But follow not until the queen   Has been prepared to see you.                   [Exit.CURL                   Melvil, sure,   The ancient steward?MELVIL              Yes, the same.CURL                      Oh, sir,   This is a house which needs no steward now!   Melvil, you come from London; can you give   No tidings of my husband?MELVIL                 It is said   He will be set at liberty as soon —CURL   As soon as our dear queen shall be no more.   Oh, the unworthy, the disgraceful traitor!   He is our lady's murderer – 'tis said   It was his testimony which condemned him.MELVIL   'Tis true.CURL         Oh, curse upon him! Be his soul   Condemned forever! he has borne false witness.MELVIL   Think, madam, what you say.CURL                  I will maintain it   With every sacred oath before the court,   I will repeat it in his very face;   The world shall hear of nothing else. I say   That she dies innocent!MELVIL                God grant it true!

SCENE III

Enter HANNAH KENNEDY.

KENNEDY (to CURL)   Go, madam, and require a cup of wine —   'Tis for our lady.MELVIL             Is the queen then sick?KENNEDY   She thinks that she is strong; she is deceived   By her heroic courage; she believes   She has no need of nourishment; yet still   A hard and painful task's allotted her.   Her enemies shall not enjoy the triumph;   They shall not say that fear hath blanched her cheeks   When her fatigues have conquered human weakness.MELVIL   May I approach her?KENNEDY              She will come herself.

SCENE IV

Enter BURGOYN; two women of the chamber follow him, weeping, and in deep mourning.

BURGOYN   Oh, Melvil!MELVIL          Oh, Burgoyn!

[They embrace silently.

FIRST WOMAN (to the NURSE)                 She chose to be   Alone: she wishes, at this awful moment,   For the last time, to commune with her God.

SCENE V

Enter MARGARET CURL, bearing a golden cup of wine;

she places it hastily upon the table, and leans, pale and trembling, against a chair.

MELVIL   How, madam! What has frightened you?KENNEDY                       Oh God!BURGOYN   Speak, madam!CURL           What, alas! have I beheld!MELVIL   Come to yourself, and say what you have seen!CURL   As I went down the staircase which conducts   To the great hall below, a door stood open;   I looked into the chamber, and I saw —   Oh heaven!MELVIL         What saw you?CURL                 All the walls were hung   With black; a spacious scaffold, too, o'erspread   With sable cloth, was raised above the floor,   And in the middle of the scaffold stood   A dreadful sable block! upon it lay   A naked, polished axe: – the hall was full   Of cruel people, crowding round the scaffold   Who, with a horrid thirst for human blood,   Seemed waiting for the victim!   THE WOMEN.                   Gracious heaven,   Protect our queen!MELVIL             Be calm; the queen approaches.

SCENE VI

Enter MARY in white and sumptuously arrayed, as for a festival: she wears hanging from her neck, on a row of small beads, an Agnus Dei; a rosary hangs from her girdle; she bears a crucifix in her hand, and a diadem of precious stones binds her hair; her large black veil is thrown back.

On her entrance all present fall back on both sides with the most violent expressions of anguish.

MELVIL falls involuntarily upon his knees.

MARY (with quiet majesty, looking round the whole circle)   Why these complaints? Why weep ye? Ye should rather   Rejoice with me, that now at length the end   Of my long woe approaches; that my shackles   Fall off, my prison opens, and my soul   Delighted mounts on seraph's wings, and seeks   The land of everlasting liberty.   When I was offered up to the oppression   Of my proud enemy, was forced to suffer   Ignoble taunts, and insults most unfitting   A free and sovereign queen, then was the time   To weep for me; but as an earnest friend,   Beneficent and healing death approaches.   All the indignities which I have suffered   On earth are covered by his sable wings.   The most degraded criminal's ennobled   By his last sufferings, by his final exit;   I feel again the crown upon my brows.   And dignity possess my swelling soul!

[Advancing a few steps.

   How! Melvil here! My worthy sir, not so;   Arise; you rather come in time to see   The triumph of your mistress than her death.   One comfort, which I never had expected,   Is granted me, that after death my name   Will not be quite abandoned to my foes;   One friend at least, one partner of my faith,   Will be my witness in the hour of death.   Say, honest Melvil, how you fared the while   In this inhospitable, hostile land?   For since the time they tore you from my side   My fears for you have oft depressed my soul.MELVIL   No other evil galled me but my grief   For thee, and that I wanted power to serve thee.MARY   How fares my chamberlain, old Didier?   But sure the faithful servant long has slept   The sleep of death, for he was full of years.MELVIL   God hath not granted him as yet this grace;   He lives to see the grave o'erwhelm thy youth.MARY   Oh! could I but have felt before my death,   The happiness of pressing one descendant   Of the dear blood of Stuart to my bosom.   But I must suffer in a foreign land,   None but my servants to bewail my fate!   Sir; to your loyal bosom I commit   My latest wishes. Bear then, sir, my blessing   To the most Christian king, my royal brother,   And the whole royal family of France.   I bless the cardinal, my honored uncle,   And also Henry Guise, my noble cousin.   I bless the holy father, the vicegerent   Of Christ on earth, who will, I trust, bless me.   I bless the King of Spain, who nobly offered   Himself as my deliverer, my avenger.   They are remembered in my will: I hope   That they will not despise, how poor soe'er   They be, the presents of a heart which loves them.

[Turning to her servants.