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.
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O cœur 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 cœurs 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 cœur 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: