Part 4
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, Passion and interest could find a tongue, While mercy's pleading voice alone was mute, All circumstances 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 vassals, sought Protection in a powerful chieftain's arms. God 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 sex; 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 God 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 sex As far in beauty, as in noble 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?
LEICESTER. Amazement ties my tongue, my queen, to think That they should fill thy soul with such alarms, And that the idle tales, which, in the streets, Of London, terrify the people's ears, Should reach the enlightened circle of thy council, And gravely occupy our statesmen's minds. Astonishment possesses me, I own, To think this lackland Queen of Scotland, she Who could not save her own poor throne, the jest Of her own vassals, and her country's refuse, [Who in her fairest days of freedom, was But thy despised puppet,] should become At once thy terror when a prisoner. What, in Heaven's name, can make her formidable? That she lays claim to England? that the Guises Will not acknowledge thee as queen? [Did then Thy people's loyal fealty await These Guises' approbation?] Can these Guises, With their objections, ever shake the right Which birth hath given thee; which, with one consent, The votes of parliament have ratified? And is not she, by Henry's will, passed o'er In silence? Is it probable that England, As yet so blessed in the new light's enjoyment, Should throw itself into this papist's arms? From thee, the sovereign it adores, desert To Darnley's murderess? What will they then, These restless men, who even in thy lifetime Torment thee with a successor; who cannot Dispose of thee in marriage soon enough To rescue church and state from fancied peril? Stand'st thou not blooming there in youthful prime While each step leads her towards the expecting tomb? By Heavens, I hope thou wilt full many a year Walk o'er the Stuart's grave, and ne'er become Thyself the instrument of her sad end.
BURLEIGH. Lord Leicester hath not always held this tone.
LEICESTER. 'Tis true, I in the court of justice gave My verdict for her death; here, in the council, I may consistently speak otherwise Here, right is not the question, but advantage. Is this a time to fear her power, when France, Her only succor, has abandoned her? When thou preparest with thy hand to bless The royal son of France, when the fair hope Of a new, glorious stem of sovereigns Begins again to blossom in this land? Why hasten then her death? She's dead already. Contempt and scorn are death to her; take heed Lest ill-timed pity call her into life. 'Tis therefore my advice to leave the sentence, By which her life is forfeit, in full force. Let her live on; but let her live beneath The headsman's axe, and, from the very hour One arm is lifted for her, let it fall.
ELIZABETH (rises). My lords, I now have heard your several thoughts, And give my ardent thanks for this your zeal. With God's assistance, who the hearts of kings Illumines, I will weigh your arguments, And choose what best my judgment shall approve.
[To BURLEIGH.
[Lord Burleigh's honest fears, I know it well, Are but the offspring of his faithful care; But yet, Lord Leicester has most truly said, There is no need of haste; our enemy Hath lost already her most dangerous sting-- The mighty arm of France: the fear that she Might quickly be the victim of their zeal Will curb the blind impatience of her friends.]
[1] The picture of Ate, the goddess of mischief, we are acquainted with from Homer, II. v. 91, 130. I. 501. She is a daughter of Jupiter, and eager to prejudice every one, even the immortal gods. She counteracted Jupiter himself, on which account he seized her by her beautiful hair, and hurled her from heaven to the earth, where she now, striding over the heads of men, excites them to evil in order to involve them in calamity.--HERDER.
Shakspeare has, in Julius Caesar, made a fine use of this image:--
"And Caesar's spirit ranging for revenge with Ate by his side, come hot from hell, Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice, Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war."
I need not point out to the reader the beautiful propriety of introducing the evil spirit on this occasion.--TRANSLATOR.
SCENE IV.
Enter SIR AMIAS PAULET and MORTIMER.
ELIZABETH. There's Sir Amias Paulet; noble sir, What tidings bring you?
PAULET. Gracious sovereign, My nephew, who but lately is returned From foreign travel, kneels before thy feet, And offers thee his first and earliest homage, Grant him thy royal grace, and let him grow And flourish in the sunshine of thy favor.
MORTIMER (kneeling on one knee). Long live my royal mistress! Happiness And glory from a crown to grace her brows!
ELIZABETH. Arise, sir knight; and welcome here in England; You've made, I hear, the tour, have been in France And Rome, and tarried, too, some time at Rheims: Tell me what plots our enemies are hatching?
MORTIMER. May God confound them all! And may the darts Which they shall aim against my sovereign, Recoiling, strike their own perfidious breasts!
ELIZABETH. Did you see Morgan, and the wily Bishop Of Ross?
MORTIMER. I saw, my queen, all Scottish exiles Who forge at Rheims their plots against this realm. I stole into their confidence in hopes To learn some hint of their conspiracies.
PAULET. Private despatches they intrusted to him, In cyphers, for the Queen of Scots, which he, With loyal hand, hath given up to us.
ELIZABETH. Say, what are then their latest plans of treason?
MORTIMER. It struck them all as 'twere a thunderbolt, That France should leave them, and with England close This firm alliance; now they turn their hopes Towards Spain----
ELIZABETH. This, Walsingham hath written us.
MORTIMER. Besides, a bull, which from the Vatican Pope Sixtus lately levelled at thy throne, Arrived at Rheims, as I was leaving it; With the next ship we may expect it here.
LEICESTER. England no more is frightened by such arms.
BURLEIGH. They're always dangerous in bigots' hands.
ELIZABETH (looking steadfastly at MORTIMER). Your enemies have said that you frequented The schools at Rheims, and have abjured your faith.
MORTIMER. So I pretended, that I must confess; Such was my anxious wish to serve my queen.
ELIZABETH (to PAULET, who presents papers to her). What have you there?
PAULET. 'Tis from the Queen of Scots. 'Tis a petition, and to thee addressed.
BURLEIGH (hastily catching at it). Give me the paper.
PAULET (giving it to the QUEEN). By your leave, my lord High-treasurer; the lady ordered me To bring it to her majesty's own hands. She says I am her enemy; I am The enemy of her offences only, And that which is consistent with my duty I will, and readily, oblige her in.
[The QUEEN takes the letter: as she reads it MORTIMER and LEICESTER speak some words in private.
BURLEIGH (to PAULET). What may the purport of the letter be? Idle complaints, from which one ought to screen The queen's too tender heart.
PAULET. What it contains She did not hide from me; she asks a boon; She begs to be admitted to the grace Of speaking with the queen.
BURLEIGH. It cannot be.
TALBOT. Why not? Her supplication's not unjust.
BURLEIGH. For her, the base encourager of murder; Her, who hath thirsted for our sovereign's blood, The privilege to see the royal presence Is forfeited: a faithful counsellor Can never give this treacherous advice.
TALBOT. And if the queen is gracious, sir, are you The man to hinder pity's soft emotions?
BURLEIGH. She is condemned to death; her head is laid Beneath the axe, and it would ill become The queen to see a death-devoted head. The sentence cannot have its execution If the queen's majesty approaches her, For pardon still attends the royal presence, As sickness flies the health-dispensing hand.
ELIZABETH (having read the letter, dries her tears). Oh, what is man! What is the bliss of earth! To what extremities is she reduced Who with such proud and splendid hopes began! Who, called to sit on the most ancient throne Of Christendom, misled by vain ambition, Hoped with a triple crown to deck her brows! How is her language altered, since the time When she assumed the arms of England's crown, And by the flatterers of her court was styled Sole monarch of the two Britannic isles! Forgive me, lords, my heart is cleft in twain, Anguish possesses me, and my soul bleeds To think that earthly goods are so unstable, And that the dreadful fate which rules mankind Should threaten mine own house, and scowl so near me.
TALBOT. Oh, queen! the God of mercy hath informed Your heart; Oh! hearken to this heavenly guidance. Most grievously, indeed, hath she atoned. Her grievous crime, and it is time that now, At last, her heavy penance have an end. Stretch forth your hand to raise this abject queen, And, like the luminous vision of an angel, Descend into her gaol's sepulchral night.
BURLEIGH. Be steadfast, mighty queen; let no emotion Of seeming laudable humanity Mislead thee; take not from thyself the power Of acting as necessity commands. Thou canst not pardon her, thou canst not save her: Then heap not on thyself the odious blame, That thou, with cruel and contemptuous triumph, Didst glut thyself with gazing on thy victim.
LEICESTER. Let us, my lords, remain within our bounds; The queen is wise, and doth not need our counsels To lead her to the most becoming choice. This meeting of the queens hath naught in common With the proceedings of the court of justice. The law of England, not the monarch's will, Condemns the Queen of Scotland, and 'twere worthy Of the great soul of Queen Elizabeth, To follow the soft dictates of her heart, Though justice swerves not from its rigid path.
ELIZABETH. Retire, my lords. We shall, perhaps, find means To reconcile the tender claims of pity With what necessity imposes on us. And now retire. [The LORDS retire; she calls SIR EDWARD MORTIMER back. Sir Edward Mortimer!
SCENE V.
ELIZABETH, MORTIMER.
ELIZABETH (having measured him for some time with her eyes in silence). You've shown a spirit of adventurous courage And self-possession, far beyond your years. He who has timely learnt to play so well The difficult dissembler's needful task Becomes a perfect man before his time, And shortens his probationary years. Fate calls you to a lofty scene of action; I prophesy it, and can, happily For you, fulfil, myself, my own prediction.
MORTIMER. Illustrious mistress, what I am, and all I can accomplish, is devoted to you.
ELIZABETH. You've made acquaintance with the foes of England. Their hate against me is implacable; Their fell designs are inexhaustible. As yet, indeed, Almighty Providence Hath shielded me; but on my brows the crown Forever trembles, while she lives who fans Their bigot-zeal, and animates their hopes.
MORTIMER. She lives no more, as soon as you command it.
ELIZABETH. Oh, sir! I thought I saw my labors end, And I am come no further than at first, I wished to let the laws of England act, And keep my own hands pure from blood's defilement. The sentence is pronounced--what gain I by it? It must be executed, Mortimer, And I must authorize the execution. The blame will ever light on me, I must Avow it, nor can save appearances. That is the worst----
MORTIMER. But can appearances Disturb your conscience where the cause is just?
ELIZABETH. You are unpractised in the world, sir knight; What we appear, is subject to the judgment Of all mankind, and what we are, of no man. No one will be convinced that I am right: I must take care that my connivance in Her death be wrapped in everlasting doubt. In deeds of such uncertain double visage Safety lies only in obscurity. Those measures are the worst that stand avowed; What's not abandoned, is not wholly lost.
MORTIMER (seeking to learn her meaning). Then it perhaps were best----
ELIZABETH (quick). Ay, surely 'twere The best; Oh, sir, my better angel speaks Through you;--go on then, worthy sir, conclude You are in earnest, you examine deep, Have quite a different spirit from your uncle.
MORTIMER (surprised). Have you imparted then your wishes to him?
ELIZABETH. I am sorry that I have.
MORTIMER. Excuse his age, The old man is grown scrupulous; such bold Adventures ask the enterprising heart Of youth----
ELIZABETH. And may I venture then on you----
MORTIMER. My hand I'll lend thee; save then as thou canst Thy reputation----
ELIZABETH. Yes, sir; if you could But waken me some morning with this news "Maria Stuart, your bloodthirsty foe, Breathed yesternight her last"----
MORTIMER. Depend on me.
ELIZABETH. When shall my head lie calmly down to sleep?
MORTIMER. The next new moon will terminate thy fears.
ELIZABETH. And be the selfsame happy day the dawn Of your preferment--so God speed you, sir; And be not hurt, if, chance, my thankfulness Should wear the mask of darkness. Silence is The happy suitor's god. The closest bonds, The dearest, are the works of secrecy.
[Exit.
SCENE VI.
MORTIMER (alone).
Go, false, deceitful queen! As thou deludest The world, e'en so I cozen thee; 'tis right, Thus to betray thee; 'tis a worthy deed. Look I then like a murderer? Hast thou read Upon my brow such base dexterity? Trust only to my arm, and keep thine own Concealed--assume the pious outward show Of mercy 'fore the world, while reckoning In secret on my murderous aid; and thus By gaining time we shall insure her rescue. Thou wilt exalt me!--show'st me from afar The costly recompense: but even were Thyself the prize, and all thy woman's favor, What art thou, poor one, and what canst thou proffer? I scorn ambition's avaricious strife, With her alone is all the charm of life, O'er her, in rounds of endless glory, hover Spirits with grace, and youth eternal blessed, Celestial joy is throned upon her breast. Thou hast but earthly, mortal goods to offer-- That sovereign good, for which all else be slighted, When heart in heart, delighting and delighted; Together flow in sweet forgetfulness;-- Ne'er didst thou woman's fairest crown possess, Ne'er hast thou with thy hand a lover's heart requited. I must attend Lord Leicester, and deliver Her letter to him--'tis a hateful charge-- I have no confidence in this court puppet-- I can effect her rescue, I alone; Be danger, honor, and the prize my own.
[As he is going, PAULET meets him.
SCENE VII.
MORTIMER, PAULET.
PAULET. What said the queen to you?
MORTIMER. 'Twas nothing, sir; Nothing of consequence----
PAULET (looking at him earnestly). Hear, Mortimer! It is a false and slippery ground on which You tread. The grace of princes is alluring, Youth loves ambition--let not yours betray you.
MORTIMER. Was it not yourself that brought me to the court?
PAULET. Oh, would to God I had not done as much! The honor of our house was never reaped In courts--stand fast, my nephew--purchase not Too dear, nor stain your conscience with a crime.
MORTIMER. What are these fears? What are you dreaming of?
PAULET. How high soever the queen may pledge herself To raise you, trust not her alluring words. [The spirit of the world's a lying spirit, And vice is a deceitful, treacherous friend.] She will deny you, if you listen to her; And, to preserve her own good name, will punish The bloody deed, which she herself enjoined.
MORTIMER. The bloody deed!----
PAULET. Away, dissimulation!-- I know the deed the queen proposed to you. She hopes that your ambitious youth will prove More docile than my rigid age. But say, Have you then pledged your promise, have you?
MORTIMER. Uncle!
PAULET. If you have done so, I abandon you, And lay my curse upon you----
LEICESTER (entering). Worthy sir! I with your nephew wish a word. The queen Is graciously inclined to him; she wills That to his custody the Scottish queen Be with full powers intrusted. She relies On his fidelity.
PAULET. Relies!--'tis well----
LEICESTER. What say you, sir?
PAULET. Her majesty relies On him; and I, my noble lord, rely Upon myself, and my two open eyes.
[Exit.
SCENE VIII.
LEICESTER, MORTIMER.
LEICESTER (surprised). What ailed the knight?
MORTIMER. My lord, I cannot tell What angers him: the confidence, perhaps, The queen so suddenly confers on me.
LEICESTER. Are you deserving then of confidence?
MORTIMER. This would I ask of you, my Lord of Leicester.
LEICESTER. You said you wished to speak with me in private.
MORTIMER. Assure me first that I may safely venture.
LEICESTER. Who gives me an assurance on your side? Let not my want of confidence offend you; I see you, sir, exhibit at this court Two different aspects; one of them must be A borrowed one; but which of them is real?
MORTIMER. The selfsame doubts I have concerning you.
LEICESTER. Which, then, shall pave the way to confidence?
MORTIMER. He, who by doing it, is least in danger.
LEICESTER. Well, that are you----
MORTIMER. No, you; the evidence Of such a weighty, powerful peer as you Can overwhelm my voice. My accusation Is weak against your rank and influence.
LEICESTER. Sir, you mistake. In everything but this I'm powerful here; but in this tender point Which I am called upon to trust you with, I am the weakest man of all the court, The poorest testimony can undo me.
MORTIMER. If the all-powerful Earl of Leicester deign To stoop so low to meet me, and to make Such a confession to me, I may venture To think a little better of myself, And lead the way in magnanimity.
LEICESTER. Lead you the way of confidence, I'll follow.
MORTIMER (producing suddenly the letter). Here is a letter from the Queen of Scotland.
LEICESTER (alarmed, catches hastily at the letter). Speak softly, sir! what see I? Oh, it is Her picture!
[Kisses and examines it with speechless joy--a pause.
MORTIMER (who has watched him closely the whole tine). Now, my lord, I can believe you.
LEICESTER (having hastily run through the letter). You know the purport of this letter, sir.
MORTIMER. Not I.
LEICESTER. Indeed! She surely hath informed you.
MORTIMER. Nothing hath she informed me of. She said You would explain this riddle to me--'tis To me a riddle, that the Earl of Leicester, The far-famed favorite of Elizabeth, The open, bitter enemy of Mary, And one of those who spoke her mortal sentence, Should be the man from whom the queen expects Deliverance from her woes; and yet it must be; Your eyes express too plainly what your heart Feels for the hapless lady.
LEICESTER. Tell me, Sir, First, how it comes that you should take so warm An interest in her fate; and what it was Gained you her confidence?
MORTIMER. My lord, I can, And in few words, explain this mystery. I lately have at Rome abjured my creed, And stand in correspondence with the Guises. A letter from the cardinal archbishop Was my credential with the Queen of Scots.
LEICESTER. I am acquainted, sir, with your conversion; 'Twas that which waked my confidence towards you. [Each remnant of distrust be henceforth banished;] Your hand, sir, pardon me these idle doubts, I cannot use too much precaution here. Knowing how Walsingham and Burleigh hate me, And, watching me, in secret spread their snares; You might have been their instrument, their creature To lure me to their toils.
MORTIMER. How poor a part So great a nobleman is forced to play At court! My lord, I pity you.
LEICESTER. With joy I rest upon the faithful breast of friendship, Where I can ease me of this long constraint. You seem surprised, sir, that my heart is turned So suddenly towards the captive queen. In truth, I never hated her; the times Have forced me to be her enemy. She was, as you well know, my destined bride, Long since, ere she bestowed her hand on Darnley, While yet the beams of glory round her smiled, Coldly I then refused the proffered boon. Now in confinement, at the gates of death, I claim her at the hazard of my life.
MORTIMER. True magnanimity, my lord.
LEICESTER. The state Of circumstances since that time is changed. Ambition made me all insensible To youth and beauty. Mary's hand I held Too insignificant for me; I hoped To be the husband of the Queen of England.
MORTIMER. It is well known she gave you preference Before all others.
LEICESTER. So, indeed, it seemed. Now, after ten lost years of tedious courtship And hateful self-constraint--oh, sir, my heart Must ease itself of this long agony. They call me happy! Did they only know What the chains are, for which they envy me! When I had sacrificed ten bitter years To the proud idol of her vanity; Submitted with a slave's humility To every change of her despotic fancies The plaything of each little wayward whim. At times by seeming tenderness caressed, As oft repulsed with proud and cold disdain; Alike tormented by her grace and rigor: Watched like a prisoner by the Argus eyes Of jealousy; examined like a schoolboy, And railed at like a servant. Oh, no tongue Can paint this hell.
MORTIMER. My lord, I feel for you.