Mary, Queen of Scots, was beheaded in 1587. Fourteen years later there
was published in Rouen a play which bore the title of _Tragédie de la
Reine d'Escosse_, and which had for its subject the condemnation and
death of Elizabeth's unfortunate prisoner. The author styled himself
Anthoine de Montchrestien sieur de Vasteville; but it was alleged by his
enemies that he was nothing more aristocratic than the son of an
apothecary of Falaise called Mauchrestien. He had, however, the good
fortune to be brought up, though in what connection is uncertain, with
two lads belonging to a family of authentic nobility; and by the time he
reached his twentieth year, he had the training and education of a
gentleman of the period. With the sword which he assumed as the emblem
of the class to which he claimed to belong, he adopted the fashionable
readiness to draw it on the slightest provocation. His first recorded
encounter, however, very nearly proved his last. With the odds of three
to one against him, he was grievously wounded and left for dead on the
highway. But he recovered, and, in the true spirit of a Norman, consoled
himself for his defeat and his injuries by suing the chief of his
adversaries, the Baron de Gouville. That he obtained damages to the
amount of 12,000 livres may be taken as a proof that all the blame was
not on his side. The success of this legal action encouraged him to take
proceedings against one of his trustees, who had failed to do his duty
by him. A further indemnity of 1000 livres was the result. About this
time, too, he married a rich widow whose good graces he had previously
secured by helping her to win a lawsuit in which her husband had been
the defender.
As early as 1596, Montchrestien had published the tragedy of
_Sophonisbe_. Five years later there appeared a volume bearing his name,
and containing a miscellaneous collection of prose and verse, including
five tragedies, of which one was the Mary Stuart play, with the running
title of _l'Escossoise_. In the midst of a literary success to which
numerous sets of complimentary verses testify, a real tragedy changed
the whole course of the Norman adventurer's career. In a duel with a
young nobleman, he killed his adversary. Whether he did so in fair fight
or, as his detractors alleged, by means of a disloyal stratagem, he was
equally amenable to the severe law against single combat which Henry IV
had lately promulgated. To no purpose did the poet appeal to the king in
some eloquent verses in which he begged to be allowed to expiate his
offence by dying for his sovereign on the field of honour:--
"Armé sur un cheval, en tenant une pique,
Non sur un échafaud en vergogne publique."[182]
He was obliged to seek safety in exile, and retired to England. There
his "Stuart" tragedy was of service to him. He presented it to James,
who showed his appreciation of the work by interceding with the King of
France on behalf of the author. The result was favourable, but not
immediate; and several years had to elapse before the outlawry was
reversed.
Montchrestien had gone to England in the character of a poet and a
gentleman. He returned to France to become an economist and
manufacturer. In 1615 he published a volume entitled, _Traicté de
l'OEconomie Politique_. Never before had the term been used; and the
subject dealt with was as novel as its name. Shortly after this, the
founder of the science for which such great destinies were in store,
established a cutlery on the banks of the Loire. That his venture was
successful seems hardly probable, for less than four years later he was
engaged in the shipping trade. The story that he endeavoured to better
his financial position by the desperate expedient of counterfeiting the
coin of the realm rests on no trustworthy authority, and may be
dismissed as one of the many calumnies by which his enemies sought to
blacken his memory after his tragic death. That event took place in
1621; and the various incidents that led up to it might well be shaped
into a novel of adventure, though they must here be summarized in a few
brief sentences. When religious troubles again broke out in France,
after the Assembly of La Rochelle, Montchrestien threw in his lot with
the Protestant party. He went about for some months in his native
province of Normandy, endeavouring to organize an insurrection. On the
7th of October he, together with his servant and six Huguenot captains,
was taken by surprise in an inn. In the scuffle that followed, a pistol
shot through the head put an end to his adventurous career. According to
the barbarous custom which then prevailed in France, as it did in
Scotland also, sentence was pronounced over his dead body. It was burnt
and the ashes were scattered to the winds.
When Montchrestien wrote _l'Escossoise_, six years before the birth of
Corneille, tragedy made no attempt to depict the conflict of
antagonistic passions, but contented itself with the exposition of a
pathetic situation, considered from various points of view. When this
had been set forth with sufficient detail, the _dénouement_, instead of
being enacted before the spectators, was indicated in a concluding
narrative. All Montchrestien's tragedies are drawn up on this plan; and
he is so faithful to the old classic form that he retains even the
chorus. It is worthy of notice, however, that what has been called
"dialogue cornélien", that quick alternation of antithetical couplets
and even single lines, suggestive of the sharp clashing of swords in the
hands of two well-matched opponents, is one of the characteristics of
his manner, and is handled by him with considerable skill and vigour.
In the Stuart tragedy the "entreparleurs" are the Queen of Scots, the
Queen of England, an anonymous Councillor, Davison, a Master of the
Household, a Messenger, a Page, and two Choruses, one composed of Mary's
female attendants, and another consisting of the "Estates" of England.
The first act is opened by Elizabeth, who, in a long speech which she
addresses to her Councillor, bewails her hard fate and her precarious
tenure of both crown and life. She is particularly hurt at the
ingratitude of the Queen of Scots, whom she has deprived of her liberty,
it is true, but otherwise treated right royally. And apostrophizing the
rival whose fair face hides so much disloyalty, envy, and spite, so much
fury and so much daring, she asks her whether her heart is not touched
at the thought of the countless ills to which England must become a prey
if it should lose its lawful Sovereign.
"Une Reine exilée, errante, fugitive,
Se degageant des siens qui la tenoient captive,
Vint surgir à nos bords contre sa volonté:
Car son cours malheureux tendoit d'autre costé.
Je l'ay bien voirement dés ce temps arrestée,
Mais, hors la liberté Royalement traitée;
Et voulant mille fois sa chaine relascher,
Je ne sçay quel destin est venu m'empescher.
* * * * *
O coeur trop inhumain pour si douce beauté,
Puis que tu peux couver tant de desloyauté,
D'envie et de despit, de fureur et d'audace,
Pourquoy tant de douceur fais-tu lire en ta face?
Tes yeux qui tous les coeurs prennent à leurs appas,
Sans en estre troublez, verront-ils mon trespas?
Ces beaux Astres luisans au ciel de ton visage,
De ma funeste mort seront-ils le présage?
N'auras-tu point le coeur touché d'affliction,
Voyant ceste belle Isle en desolation,
En proye à la discorde en guerres allumée,
Au meurtre de ses fils par ses fils animée?
Verras-tu sans douleur les soldats enragez,
Massacrer à leurs pieds les vieillards outragez,
Egorger les enfants presence de leurs peres
Les pucelles forcer au giron de leurs meres,
Et les fleuves encor regorger sur leurs bords
Par les pleurs des vivans et par le sang des morts?"[183]
Enlarging on this idea, the Councillor urges the Queen to put her
prisoner to death:--It is a pious deed to kill a murderess; it cannot be
displeasing to a just God that punishment should be inflicted on the
wicked; and, moreover, has not the impunity of vice often brought ruin
and death on kingdoms and on kings? To such arguments as these,
Elizabeth replies that kings and queens are answerable to God alone;
that Sovereigns who put their enemies to death increase instead of
diminishing their number; and that severity only engenders hatred. And
her last words contain the half-expressed resolve to try what clemency
will do to disarm her rival. This the Councillor meets with the
significant question--
"d'un ingrat obligé
Que peut-on espérer que d'en être outragé?"[184]
To close the act the Chorus then appears and sings the delights of the
golden age and the simple life, as compared with the troubles and
anxieties that embitter the existence of princes.
When the short second act opens, sentence of death has been passed on
Mary Stuart, and the Estates of England appear before their Queen to
demand that, for their safety, the sentence shall be carried out.
Elizabeth accedes so far as to promise that she will leave the matter in
their hands. But that is only a device to gain time. As soon as she is
by herself, she calls up a vivid picture of what foreign nations and
posterity will think of her if she allows the blood of a Sovereign to
stain the scaffold, and is so horrified at it that she determines to
interfere. She leaves the stage and disappears from the tragedy with the
words:
"Je rompray cependant le coup de l'entreprise".[185]
In spite of the hopes inspired by Elizabeth, the next act introduces
Davison, who has been dispatched to notify her sentence to the royal
prisoner, and who, in an effective monologue, expresses his sense of the
responsibility which he is incurring and of the odium which he will be
made to bear:
"La charge qu'on m'impose est certes bien fascheuse,
Mais je crains qu'elle soit encor plus perilleuse:
Je vay fraper un coup, mais soudain je le voy,
Je le voy, malheureux, retomber dessus moy.
* * * * *
Justement poursuivi de rancune et d'envie,
Pour m'estre à ce forfait ainsi tost resolu,
De tous également je seray mal voulu.
* * * * *
Sur moy seul tout de mesme on voudra desormais
Prendre vengeance d'elle, et je n'en pourray mais:
Où ceux qui sont auteurs du mal de ceste Reine,
Au milieu de mes pleurs se riront de ma peine.
Le sort est bien cruel qui me donne la loy!
Je ne le veux point faire et faire je le doy:
Il faut bien le vouloir; car c'est force forcée;
Tremblant je m'y resous."[186]
Davison is followed by Mary, whom her attendants accompany. In a
touching speech she tells the sad story of her life--her unhappy
childhood, her brief reign in France, her return to her Scottish
kingdom, of which the distracted state is described in a few vigorous
lines:
"Ayant laissé glisser dedans la fantaisie
La folle opinion d'une rance hérésie,
Ayant pour un erreur fardé de nouveauté
Abreuvé son esprit de la déloyauté,
Il esmeut furieux des querelles civiles,
Il révolte les champs, il mutine les villes,
Il conjure ma honte et me recherche à tort
Croyant qu'à mon espoux j'eusse brassé la mort."[187]
To this accusation of having plotted the death of her husband she
replies with an impassioned apostrophe to him, calling upon him to rise
from the dead and bear witness to her innocence. Then she recalls her
flight from Scotland, and, forgetful of historical fact, attributes it
to adverse fate and a furious storm that she was obliged to land on the
inhospitable shores of the barbarous English:
"Peuple double et cruel, dont les suprêmes loix
Sont les loix de la force et de la tyrannie,
Dont le coeur est couvé de rage et félonie
Dont l'oeil se paist de meutre et n'a rien de plus cher
Que voir le sang humain sur la terre espancher."[188]
And now that no hope of liberty remains, the royal captive longs for the
death which she believes to have already been prepared for her. At this
point there is a really dramatic situation. The sorrowing Queen has
scarcely been assured by the Chorus that her enemies will not dare
proceed to such extremes, when a page announces the approach of a royal
messenger. It is Davison. He has come to make her death sentence known
to the prisoner, who welcomes it as the news of her speedy deliverance.
The fourth act is a lofty elegy--Mary's farewell to the world. The
tender and touching lines with which it opens indicate the spirit with
which it is animated throughout.
"Voici l'heure dernière en mes voeux désirée
Où je suis de longtemps constamment préparée;
Je quitte sans regret ce limon vitieux
Pour luire pure et nette en la clarté des Cieux,
Où l'esprit se radopte à sa tige éternelle,
Afin d'y refleurir d'une vie immortelle.
Ouvre-toi, Paradis!...
Et vous anges tuteurs des bienheureux fidèles,
Déployez dans le vent les cerceaux de vos ailes,
Pour recevoir mon âme entre vos bras, alors
Qu'elle et ce chef royal voleront de mon corps ...
Humble et dévotieuse, à Dieu je me présente
Au nom de son cher fils, qui sur la croix fiché
Dompta pour moi l'Enfer, la mort et le péché ...
Tous ont failli, Seigneur, devant ta sainte face;
Si par là nous étions exilés de ta grâce,
A qui serait enfin ton salut réservé?
Qu'aurait servi le bois de tant de sang lavé?"[189]
In the fifth act, devoted to the usual narrative of the catastrophe, a
messenger tells the Master of the Household how nobly and bravely his
mistress met her death:
"Comme elle est parvenue au milieu de la salle,
Sa face paroist belle encor qu'elle soit palle,
Non de la mort hastée en sa jeune saison,
Mais de l'ennuy souffert en si longue prison.
* * * * *
Comme tous demeuroient attachez à sa veue
De mille traits d'amour mesme en la mort pourveue,
D'un aussi libre pied que son coeur estoit haut,
Elle monte au coupeau du funebre eschaffaut,
Puis sousriant un peu de l'oeil et de la bouche:
Je ne pensois mourir en cette belle couche;
Mais puis qu'il plaist à Dieu user ainsi de moi,
Je mourray pour sa gloire en deffendant ma foy.
Je conqueste une Palme en ce honteux supplice,
Où je fay de ma vie à son nom sacrifice,
Qui sera celebrée en langages divers;
Une seule couronne en la terre je pers,
Pour en posseder deux en l'eternel Empire,
La Couronne de vie, et celle du Martyre.
* * * * *
Ce dit sur l'eschaffaut ployant les deux genoux,
Se confesse elle mesme, et refrappe trois coups
Sa poitrine dolente et baigne ses lumieres
De pleurs devotieux qui suivent ses prieres.
* * * * *
Puis tournant au Bourreau sa face glorieuse:
Arme quand tu voudras ta main injurieuse,
Frappe le coup mortel, et d'un bras furieux
Fay tomber le chef bas et voler l'âme aux cieux.
Il court oyant ces mots se saisir de la hache;
Un, deux, trois, quatre coups sur son col il delasche;
Car le fer aceré moins cruel que son bras
Vouloit d'un si beau corps differer le trespas.
Le tronc tombe à la fin, et sa mourante face
Par trois ou quatre fois bondit dessus la place."[190]
The lamentations of the Chorus close the pathetic scene. This is not yet
tragedy; but it is not far from being splendid in parts. It is the work,
if not of a dramatist, at least of an eloquent rhetorician combined with
a lyric poet of high gifts. And when it is remembered that the play was
written before his twenty-fifth year, by the man who afterwards showed
his keen power of analysis and his psychological insight in his treatise
on political economy, it is justifiable to regret that the circumstances
of his adventurous life induced him to abandon the literary career which
had opened so auspiciously for him.