Читать книгу Mary Stuart - Фридрих Шиллер, Friedrich von Schiller - Страница 8

   You wished to-day assurance of your fate;

   My Lord of Burleigh brings it to you now;

   Hear it with resignation, as beseems you.

   I hope with dignity, as it becomes

   My innocence, and my exalted station.

   I come deputed from the court of justice.

   Lord Burleigh lends that court his willing tongue,

   Which was already guided by his spirit.

   You speak as if no stranger to the sentence.

   Lord Burleigh brings it; therefore do I know it.

   To listen less to hatred.

                 I but name

   My enemy: I said not that I hate him.]

   But to the matter, sir.

                You have acknowledged

   The jurisdiction of the two-and-forty.

   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

   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.

                But yet you heard

   The points of accusation, answered them

   Before the court —

             '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.

   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.

                   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.

   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?

   I do not wish to be exempt from judgment,

   It is the judges only I disclaim.

   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?

   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.

   You say you are not versed in England's laws,

   You seem well read, methinks, in her disasters.

   And these men are my judges?

                  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.

   And from a Stuart, then, should England hope

   This happiness?

            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.

   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.

   I wished not that: – I wished it not, by Heaven!

   When did I strive at that? Where are your proofs?

   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.

          Upon this statute, then,

   My lord, is built the verdict of my judges?

   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 —

              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?

   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.

   When did I that, my lord? Let them produce

   The documents.

           You have already seen them

   They were before the court, presented to you.

   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.

   Before his execution, Babington

   Confessed they were the same which he received.

   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?

                 Besides, my lady,

   Your secretaries, Curl and Nau, declare

   On oath, they are the very selfsame letters

   Which from your lips they faithfully transcribed.

   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!

   You said yourself, you held your countryman

   To be an upright, conscientious man.

   I thought him such; but 'tis the hour of danger

   Alone, which tries the virtue of a man.

   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.

   The oath he swore was free and unconstrained.

   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?

   Madam, there does: that is the law in England.

   I must declare the truth.

                 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?

   Be not so hasty, lady; 'tis not only

   Your plot with Babington —

                 '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.

   It has been proved that you have corresponded

   With the ambassador of Spain, Mendoza —

   Stick to the point, my lord.

                  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.

   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.

   Talk not, my lady, of the dreadful right

   Of power: 'tis seldom on the prisoner's side.

   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.

   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.