Part 2

MORTIMER. I scarce, my liege, had numbered twenty years, Trained in the path of strictest discipline And nursed in deadliest hate to papacy, When led by irresistible desire For foreign travel, I resolved to leave My country and its puritanic faith Far, far behind me: soon with rapid speed I flew through France, and bent my eager course On to the plains of far-famed Italy. 'Twas then the time of the great jubilee: And crowds of palmers filled the public roads; Each image was adorned with garlands; 'twas As if all human-kind were wandering forth In pilgrimage towards the heavenly kingdom. The tide of the believing multitude Bore me too onward, with resistless force, Into the streets of Rome. What was my wonder, As the magnificence of stately columns Rushed on my sight! the vast triumphal arches, The Colosseum's grandeur, with amazement Struck my admiring senses; the sublime Creative spirit held my soul a prisoner In the fair world of wonders it had framed. I ne'er had felt the power of art till now. The church that reared me hates the charms of sense; It tolerates no image, it adores But the unseen, the incorporeal word. What were my feelings, then, as I approached The threshold of the churches, and within, Heard heavenly music floating in the air: While from the walls and high-wrought roofs there streamed Crowds of celestial forms in endless train-- When the Most High, Most Glorious pervaded My captivated sense in real presence! And when I saw the great and godlike visions, The Salutation, the Nativity, The Holy Mother, and the Trinity's Descent, the luminous transfiguration And last the holy pontiff, clad in all The glory of his office, bless the people! Oh! what is all the pomp of gold and jewels With which the kings of earth adorn themselves! He is alone surrounded by the Godhead; His mansion is in truth an heavenly kingdom, For not of earthly moulding are these forms!

MARY. O spare me, sir! No further. Spread no more Life's verdant carpet out before my eyes, Remember I am wretched, and a prisoner.

MORTIMER. I was a prisoner, too, my queen; but swift My prison-gates flew open, when at once My spirit felt its liberty, and hailed The smiling dawn of life. I learned to burst Each narrow prejudice of education, To crown my brow with never-fading wreaths, And mix my joy with the rejoicing crowd. Full many noble Scots, who saw my zeal, Encouraged me, and with the gallant French They kindly led me to your princely uncle, The Cardinal of Guise. Oh, what a man! How firm, how clear, how manly, and how great! Born to control the human mind at will! The very model of a royal priest; A ruler of the church without an equal!

MARY. You've seen him then,--the much loved, honored man, Who was the guardian of my tender years! Oh, speak of him! Does he remember me? Does fortune favor him? And prospers still His life? And does he still majestic stand, A very rock and pillar of the church?

MORTIMER. The holy man descended from his height, And deigned to teach me the important creed Of the true church, and dissipate my doubts. He showed me how the glimmering light of reason Serves but to lead us to eternal error: That what the heart is called on to believe The eye must see: that he who rules the church Must needs be visible; and that the spirit Of truth inspired the councils of the fathers. How vanished then the fond imaginings And weak conceptions of my childish soul 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 Than, out of all the monarchy, elect The very noblest, and appoint them judges In this great suit? And were it probable That party hatred could corrupt one heart; Can forty chosen men unite to speak A sentence just as passion gives command?

MARY (after a short pause). I am struck dumb by that tongue's eloquence, Which ever was so ominous to me. And how shall I, a weak, untutored woman, Cope with so subtle, learned an orator? Yes truly; were these lords as you describe them, I must be mute; my cause were lost indeed, Beyond all hope, if they pronounce me guilty. But, sir, these names, which you are pleased to praise, These very men, whose weight you think will crush me, I see performing in the history Of these dominions very different parts: I see this high nobility of England, This grave majestic senate of the realm, Like to an eastern monarch's vilest slaves, Flatter my uncle Henry's sultan fancies: I see this noble, reverend House of Lords, Venal alike with the corrupted Commons, Make statutes and annul them, ratify A marriage and dissolve it, as the voice Of power commands: to-day it disinherits, And brands the royal daughters of the realm With the vile name of bastards, and to-morrow Crowns them as queens, and leads them to the throne. I see them in four reigns, with pliant conscience, Four times abjure their faith; renounce the pope With Henry, yet retain the old belief; Reform themselves with Edward; hear the mass Again with Mary; with Elizabeth, Who governs now, reform themselves again.

BURLEIGH. You say you are not versed in England's laws, You seem well read, methinks, in her disasters.

MARY. And these men are my judges? [As LORD BURLEIGH seems to wish to speak. My lord treasurer, Towards you I will be just, be you but just To me. 'Tis said that you consult with zeal The good of England, and of England's queen; Are honest, watchful, indefatigable; I will believe it. Not your private ends, Your sovereign and your country's weal alone, Inspire your counsels and direct your deeds. Therefore, my noble lord, you should the more Distrust your heart; should see that you mistake not The welfare of the government for justice. I do not doubt, besides yourself, there are Among my judges many upright men: But they are Protestants, are eager all For England's quiet, and they sit in judgment On me, the Queen of Scotland, and the papist. It is an ancient saying, that the Scots And England to each other are unjust; And hence the rightful custom that a Scot Against an Englishman, or Englishman Against a Scot, cannot be heard in judgment. Necessity prescribed this cautious law; Deep policy oft lies in ancient customs: My lord, we must respect them. Nature cast Into the ocean these two fiery nations Upon this plank, and she divided it Unequally, and bade them fight for it. The narrow bed of Tweed alone divides These daring spirits; often hath the blood Of the contending parties dyed its waves. Threatening, and sword in hand, these thousand years, From both its banks they watch their rival's motions, Most vigilant and true confederates, With every enemy of the neighbor state. No foe oppresses England, but the Scot Becomes his firm ally; no civil war Inflames the towns of Scotland, but the English Add fuel to the fire: this raging hate Will never be extinguished till, at last, One parliament in concord shall unite them, One common sceptre rule throughout the isle.

BURLEIGH. And from a Stuart, then, should England hope This happiness?

MARY. Oh! why should I deny it? Yes, I confess, I cherished the fond hope; I thought myself the happy instrument To join in freedom, 'neath the olive's shade, Two generous realms in lasting happiness! I little thought I should become the victim Of their old hate, their long-lived jealousy; And the sad flames of that unhappy strife, I hoped at last to smother, and forever: And, as my ancestor, great Richmond, joined The rival roses after bloody contest, To join in peace the Scotch and English crowns.

BURLEIGH. An evil way you took to this good end, To set the realm on fire, and through the flames Of civil war to strive to mount the throne.

MARY. I wished not that:--I wished it not, by Heaven! When did I strive at that? Where are your proofs?

BURLEIGH. I came not hither to dispute; your cause Is no more subject to a war of words. The great majority of forty voices Hath found that you have contravened the law Last year enacted, and have now incurred Its penalty.

[Producing the verdict.

MARY. Upon this statute, then, My lord, is built the verdict of my judges?

BURLEIGH (reading). Last year it was enacted, "If a plot Henceforth should rise in England, in the name Or for the benefit of any claimant To England's crown, that justice should be done On such pretender, and the guilty party Be prosecuted unto death." Now, since It has been proved----

MARY. Lord Burleigh, I can well Imagine that a law expressly aimed At me, and framed to compass my destruction May to my prejudice be used. Oh! Woe To the unhappy victim, when the tongue That frames the law shall execute the sentence. Can you deny it, sir, that this same statute Was made for my destruction, and naught else?

BURLEIGH. It should have acted as a warning to you: By your imprudence it became a snare. You saw the precipice which yawned before you; Yet, truly warned, you plunged into the deep. With Babington, the traitor, and his bands Of murderous companions, were you leagued. You knew of all, and from your prison led Their treasonous plottings with a deep-laid plan.

MARY. When did I that, my lord? Let them produce The documents.

BURLEIGH. You have already seen them They were before the court, presented to you.

MARY. Mere copies written by another hand; Show me the proof that they were dictated By me, that they proceeded from my lips, And in those very terms in which you read them.

BURLEIGH. Before his execution, Babington Confessed they were the same which he received.

MARY. Why was he in his lifetime not produced Before my face? Why was he then despatched So quickly that he could not be confronted With her whom he accused?

BURLEIGH. Besides, my lady, Your secretaries, Curl and Nau, declare On oath, they are the very selfsame letters Which from your lips they faithfully transcribed.

MARY. And on my menials' testimony, then, I am condemned; upon the word of those Who have betrayed me, me, their rightful queen! Who in that very moment, when they came As witnesses against me, broke their faith!