Mary Stuart: A Tragedy






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!

   BURLEIGH.
   You said yourself, you held your countryman
   To be an upright, conscientious man.

   MARY.
   I thought him such; but 'tis the hour of danger
   Alone, which tries the virtue of a man.
   [He ever was an honest man, but weak
   In understanding; and his subtle comrade,
   Whose faith, observe, I never answered for,
   Might easily seduce him to write down
   More than he should;] the rack may have compelled him
   To say and to confess more than he knew.
   He hoped to save himself by this false witness,
   And thought it could not injure me—a queen.

   BURLEIGH.
   The oath he swore was free and unconstrained.

   MARY.
   But not before my face! How now, my lord?
   The witnesses you name are still alive;
   Let them appear against me face to face,
   And there repeat what they have testified.
   Why am I then denied that privilege,
   That right which e'en the murderer enjoys?
   I know from Talbot's mouth, my former keeper,
   That in this reign a statute has been passed
   Which orders that the plaintiff be confronted
   With the defendant; is it so, good Paulet?
   I e'er have known you as an honest man;
   Now prove it to me; tell me, on your conscience,
   If such a law exist or not in England?

   PAULET.
   Madam, there does: that is the law in England.
   I must declare the truth.

   MARY.
                 Well, then, my lord,
   If I am treated by the law of England
   So hardly, when that law oppresses me,
   Say, why avoid this selfsame country's law,
   When 'tis for my advantage? Answer me;
   Why was not Babington confronted with me?
   Why not my servants, who are both alive?

   BURLEIGH.
   Be not so hasty, lady; 'tis not only
   Your plot with Babington——

   MARY.
                 'Tis that alone
   Which arms the law against me; that alone
   From which I'm called upon to clear myself.
   Stick to the point, my lord; evade it not.

   BURLEIGH.
   It has been proved that you have corresponded
   With the ambassador of Spain, Mendoza——

   MARY.
   Stick to the point, my lord.

   BURLEIGH.
                  That you have formed
   Conspiracies to overturn the fixed
   Religion of the realm; that you have called
   Into this kingdom foreign powers, and roused
   All kings in Europe to a war with England.

   MARY.
   And were it so, my lord—though I deny it—
   But e'en suppose it were so: I am kept
   Imprisoned here against all laws of nations.
   I came not into England sword in hand;
   I came a suppliant; and at the hands
   Of my imperial kinswoman I claimed
   The sacred rights of hospitality,
   When power seized upon me, and prepared
   To rivet fetters where I hoped protection.
   Say, is my conscience bound, then, to this realm?
   What are the duties that I owe to England?
   I should but exercise a sacred right,
   Derived from sad necessity, if I
   Warred with these bonds, encountered might with might,
   Roused and incited every state in Europe
   For my protection to unite in arms.
   Whatever in a rightful war is just
   And loyal, 'tis my right to exercise:
   Murder alone, the secret, bloody deed,
   My conscience and my pride alike forbid.
   Murder would stain me, would dishonor me:
   Dishonor me, my lord, but not condemn me,
   Nor subject me to England's courts of law:
   For 'tis not justice, but mere violence,
   Which is the question 'tween myself and England.

   BURLEIGH (significantly).
   Talk not, my lady, of the dreadful right
   Of power: 'tis seldom on the prisoner's side.

   MARY.
   I am the weak, she is the mighty one:
   'Tis well, my lord; let her, then, use her power;
   Let her destroy me; let me bleed, that she
   May live secure; but let her, then, confess
   That she hath exercised her power alone,
   And not contaminate the name of justice.
   Let her not borrow from the laws the sword
   To rid her of her hated enemy;
   Let her not clothe in this religious garb
   The bloody daring of licentious might;
   Let not these juggling tricks deceive the world.

      [Returning the sentence.

   Though she may murder me, she cannot judge me:
   Let her no longer strive to join the fruits
   Of vice with virtue's fair and angel show;
   But let her dare to seem the thing she is.

                      [Exit.

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