 | Anthony Babington |  |
Scene I.
—An inner room at the tavern of the “Three Tuns,” in Newgate Market; Anthony Babington, seated at a table, shrouded in a cloak and disguised as an old man, with false beard, surrounded by nine of his Fellow-conspirators. John Ballard, also disguised, and under the name of “Captain Fortescue.” Peter Barton, a servant of Babington's. Tankards, flagons, and remains of a supper.Ballard.
We must call for another flagon of wine, so that
they deem we meet here only to drink.
[Calls for
wine, which is brought.]
Are we all assembled?
One is wanting, but he will be here anon.
Ballard.
See that the doors are locked
[doors secured]
while I read over the names of those present.
Anthony Babington, of Dethwick (under God the
prime mover in this good cause), John Charnock,
Edward Windsor, Thomas Salisbury, Robert Barnwell,
Thomas Gerrard, John Savage, Charles Tilney,
Henry Donn, and myself, John Ballard, a priest of
the most holy Order of Jesus; but who will be known
and addressed this evening as Captain Fortescue,
a soldier of fortune.
Conspirators.
We are all here, save Mr. Chidiock Titchborne,
of South Hants, whom we are momentarily expecting.
Ballard.
Now I would have you all to say once more
that ye be agreed in this undertaking, which is for
the ultimate good of all Christendom; for though
you have each one partaken of the blessed sacrament,
swearing thereon to be united together to this end, I
from the midst of us, lest his ensample should cause
others to falter.
Conspirators.
We are all agreed.
Ballard.
Then we may hope for great things. Ye have
heard how the Holy Father, Christ's vicar on earth,
hath graciously extended unto him that shall be the
chosen instrument of God, his absolution and his
blessing; seeing that in ridding the world of the Beast,
great glory must needs accrue to the one true faith?
Conspirators.
We have heard the gracious message of his
Holiness.
Ballard.
You, John Savage, have good reason to rejoice,
in that you have been specially singled out and predestined
of heaven to accomplish this great work.
Sometime a soldier under his most catholic highness
the Prince of Parma, may you find yourself ere long
enrolled amongst the glorious army of Christ's saints,
in whose service if so be that you endure martyrdom,
reward.
John Savage.
Amen!
Ballard.
Yet it is an old saying, and one to be reverenced,
that two heads are better than one; and so with the
hands that are to strike—they should be ready on all
sides—let them but bide their time. For we should
not let the weight of so mighty an undertaking
depend alone on the finite prowess of one man.
You, Robert Barnwell, in that you are an inmate
at this present of the Court, and Charles Tilney,
seeing that you are one of the pensioners of the
heretic queen (whom we speak of as the Beast
that doth trouble Christendom), and therefore one
of those last to be suspected, you will have access
in many ways to the royal presence, denied to others
amongst us, who would, nevertheless, rejoice at the
same chance, whereof see that ye profit, and that
ye strike home.
Conspirators.
We bide our time.
This is the way we hope to work for God.
Firstly, we propose to remove the Beast that troubles
the earth; and when this great good is achieved,
then shall we strike at the hearts of all those her
evil counsellors who have confirmed and strengthened
her in her evil course. Cecil, Walsingham,
Francis Knollys, and Hunsdon—these are the
names of those to be doomed and damned. May
their deaths serve as a warning to all such as
militate against Christ's kingdom on earth.
Conspirators.
Amen!
Ballard.
Once again, have ye given up, all of you, the
safest and surest way of dealing with her whose
living is a curse? I have in my mind her removal
by poison, to be administered in her food by those
of her creatures whom we may convert for the
glory of God.
Babington.
As English gentlemen, this is an idea not to be
entertained by us.
I spoke of it but as a method which would not
be fraught with the same dangers that must needs
now lurk in your path; the tortures inflicted on
the blessed Balthasar Gerard, the instrument of
heaven who so bravely freed the world of the
heretic Prince of Orange, affright you not?
Babington.
What a French lad, base born, could dare and
endure, are we, who are Englishmen, to shrink
from?
Ballard.
Then we are all agreed?
Babington.
Mr. Titchborne is for some safe middle course.
He hath said to me more than once of this project:
“So it involved not the killing of a woman, and
she my queen, I would join to you with the more
zeal.”
Ballard.
He that is minded to croak, or to clap a wet
clout on our endeavours, let him cry off.
[Knock at door.
A gentleman of your party who has been delayed.
[Enter Chidiock Titchborne.]
Titchborne.
Good evening, friends. A cold March after
our green Yule.
Babington.
“A green Yule makes a full kirkyard,” as the
Scots say.
Titchborne.
It was heavy travelling over the Hampshire
moors. But our farmers say of the cold, Better
now than later.
Ballard.
God prosper the harvest.
[Exit Landlord.]
But he is departed now, so a truce to the weather
and the crops. Though, now I bethink me, your
greeting, Babington, would not make a bad password,
for a time at least; though we must change
it to another ere long, for safety. It were well that
those gentlemen who are joined together in this
great cause should have some string of words by
they may make known which way lie their sympathies;
for each day the circle of those who work
for the glory of God will wax larger, and there may
be those amongst us in a week who to-day know
not where to turn for comfort. Let it be told to
our friends that with this greeting they may be sure
of a welcome: “A green Yule maketh a full kirkyard,”
in some method interpolated into their talk;
and lest it should be said lightly and by accident
by those who are ignorant of its significance, let
them afterwards say, in carelesswise, “God prosper
the harvest.” You have made a note of this, gentlemen?
Conspirators.
We have.
Peter Barton.
I am no scholar; would one of these gentlemen
write the words?
[Babington writes.
Ballard
(to Titchborne).
And now, sir, how comes this, and you a Catholic
gentleman, one of the good old stock? How so
luke-minded? For I hear that you shrink from what
apathy as damnable 'fore God as evil deeds. Buckle
yourself for action!
Babington.
Bear with him, father, he is with us privily; but,
like myself, he hath a wife. He plays a game of
hazard most disastrous if he lose. Her heart breaks
with his neck.
Ballard
(aside).
Hush, Babington! your words unnerve him. And
of your own wife, how often have you said that she
stood not in your way?
Titchborne.
It is as you say. I wish you well. Yet well
I also wish others had worked for this—not my true
friends. See, too, your idol be not made of clay—
the lady of your dreams. I say no more, fearing to
anger you; but since seeing you I have had more
proof of the truth of those grievous reports—the
rumours of her evil living heretofore.
Ballard.
There is no purity that can withstand
Obliquity of vision. As I watch'd
Before the daylight vanish'd, I beheld
The very snowflakes, on their earthward side,
Look black against the whiter space of sky,
Yet were they very part of that same world
Of unshed purity. Be generous,
You do not know her; your material eyes
See but the under-shadow cast by earth
Upon the falling snowflakes.
Titchborne.
Yet, my friends,
Be ye not trick'd by vain ambitions. Anthony,
There are good things besides the love of fame
And smiles of princes. I am not long wed
To one who makes the world seem emptiness
And home a world of blessings. Politics
Involve in these our days such tortuous
Deceptions, such false dealings, all for ends
So fork'd and complicated, budding forth
In doubtful double-blossom—France and Spain,
Poor Ireland, where the ragged rightful lords
Wait, like a grisly pack of famish'd wolves,
To spring on their oppressors. Add to this,
Flung in a mine of powder, this same plot
To crown the Scottish Mary. Mark my words!
The queen is such a weathercock to turn
That what she wills to-day is but a sign
She change her mood to-morrow; she may yet
Name Mary Stuart her heir. And one thing more—
I would that ye could keep from deed of blood—
You guess my thought—think of it, Anthony—
A woman and your queen! Why, at the worst
Let but the queens change places; for the one,
Three crowns and all the people at her feet
(If she act wisely); whilst Elizabeth
Languish in lone captivity. The Tower,
If God so wills it. Nay, the very block
Hath pillow'd many heads of our true faith
Whilst we walk'd young and lusty! E'en the block,
If Heaven so wills, not the assassin's knife.
Ballard
(ironically).
Were it not better at once to withdraw your name
and countenance from so dangerous an enterprise?
Let us first think of our own heads, and when they
are sure 'twill be time enow to work for the kingdom
changed, and thy one-time flower of chivalry, since
thou groanest under a heretic prince!
Titchborne.
Sir, I have no words for one who calls me coward
from under a priest's habit. I cannot strike, so I
am dumb. Farewell, my friends, I have to journey
to-morrow into South Hants, and I must be a-bed
betimes.
Babington
(producing pencil and paper).
First, I must have the turn of your head, the
cut of your beard, and the tip of your pearl earring
[sketching hastily].
Thus—my picture is well-nigh
completed, and our queen will now have a sure
way of knowing our faces. She need no longer
think of us as a pack of featureless churls. See,
a goodly company! Will her grace recognise
amongst them the smooth-faced boy who was her
page at Sheffield grown to man's estate? Folks say
I am but little changed, save in my stature.
[Passing the sketch to Titchborne.
Titchborne.
A pretty fancy. I recognise you as our head
conveying this to her Majesty?
Babington.
A way most sure and safe. Heaven is certainly
with us.
[Drawing.
Titchborne.
Should these hurried lines not suffice for thee,
we might complete the work in Hampshire, whither,
as I have said, I go to-morrow, and where I should
be proud to be host to you, Anthony. There are
many things on which I would converse at mine
ease.
Babington.
The picture must be despatched at once, whilst
this sure method is open to us; but if you will not
journey too early in the day, I shall most gratefully
avail myself of your hospitality. I myself am bound,
ere long, to journey towards your Hampshire.
Titchborne.
Then we journey together. To-morrow we will
communicate. Once more, good evening, gentlemen.
[Exit.
(to Ballard).
Nay, he is as brave as our bravest. It is not
for his own neck he fears; he hath a wife and
child.
Ballard.
Whom you did wrong, Babington, to recall at
such a moment to his mind. The woman hath
doubtless been working upon him. Oh, I know
these women-folk! They have blasted the soul
of many an honest man. But let us turn from
the ominous gruntings of this Hampshire hog—let
him wallow in his Southampton mire.
Babington.
As gallant a gentleman as ever stepped.
Ballard.
Marriage may have marred him; and yet Brutus
was no bachelor! But now to what is nearest our
hearts.
Babington.
That is our queen's letter. It hath been
nearest to mine for the week. See! its edges
fray already and threaten my lady's sweet words.
[Kisses the letter.
When to the love of woman is join'd the love
of God, the true faith, and the good of all Christendom,
love on. But ere we band together in this
greatest cause, each of you is bound, I hold, to
forswear the love of all such sweethearts and courtesans
as mar the dreams of young men. You should
all swear this on God's word. Oh! I have known
women—but I would have you to know that
it is possible for our divine love towards the blessed
Mother of God so to incorporate itself and become
incarnate, even in the fleshly nature of man, to the
utter casting out of baser desires.
Babington
(thoughtfully).
Even so—even so—I begin to credit your words.
My soul seems at length attuning itself to this grand
mystery, and, my earthly queen acting as mediator,
I doubt not I may hope to climb from her love to
that of her blessed namesake the queen of heaven.
Ballard.
That is as it should be. So a young man fix
his eyes on heaven, I blame him not if he remember
some of the stars were women. But let us now
lead to damnation. Here's to the steeling of our
hearts 'gainst all those that were wont to soften them!
We want our hearts, gentlemen.
[Drinks.
Conspirators.
Aye, and our heads!
[All drink, passing the flagon. Babington hesitates.
Voice of Alice (heard without).
I have word of a gentleman being here, with
whom I would speak. Can you show me to his
presence, good sir?
Landlord.
How, think you, fair mistress, should I know
your gentleman from the fourscore or so that
frequent us nightly? How may I know your
gentleman?
Alice.
He is a young gentleman of noble carriage, I
have heard say there is not one like him—no, not
in all England.
Landlord.
Ah! I'll be bound a very paragon of beauty!
your gentleman?
Alice.
He would stoop at your door, yonder, through
which I have been privily informed he passed an
hour ago. May I speak with him?
Landlord.
There was an old man, gray-bearded and cloak'd,
who stooped at my door. I noted him as straight
and tall for his years, though he walk'd with a stick.
Alice
(suspecting).
Ah! that is, belike, his father. Is he within there?
Landlord.
He is carousing with some dozen of his boon
companions; were I a young gentlewoman, I would
keep clear of them.
Alice.
His gray hairs will protect me. May I enter?
[Knocks.
Ballard.
Who knocks?
Alice.
I would speak with one of you gentlemen.
(aside).
Alice!
Ballard
(unlocking door).
Your gentleman is not amongst us, my good girl,
but satisfy yourself.
Alice
(after scanning each face attentively).
To any of you doth the name of “Alice,”
Of one sweet moonlight night, of an old house
In Dorsetshire, amidst its flat park lands—
Crow-crested elm-trees clust'ring round its wings—
Of a dim chamber wainscoted with books,
Of an old woman reading from God's word
With Luther's mind, as sanction'd by King Harry,
Of a young maiden kneeling at her feet,
And list'ning to her words: to none of you
Twelve present gentlemen, do all these things
Seem to mean anything?
Conspirators.
To none of us!
Alice.
Alas! to none of you? Then can my heart
Have so deceiv'd me? [Aside]
Nay, he must be here!
The name of Alice?
Ballard.
Hark you, Alice, then—
So that you rest as pure as when you came,
Take yourself hence, this is no place for you.
These gentlemen are somewhat gone in wine.
So that they deem you not some fly-by-night,
Go, get you hence!
[Rises.
Alice.
Sir, all these gentlemen
Seem sober as yourself. I fear them not,
Knowing he is amongst them.
Ballard
(angrily).
Out, girl, out!
Alice.
Yet if he knows not me, maybe he knows
This ring—his coat of arms. Not long ago—
Ballard.
This passes patience! Here, mine host! Since
when hath your house so lost its good name, that
gentlemen as they sup? Out with this brazen
wench!
[Endeavours to thrust Alice towards the door. Babington rises up to defend her, and in so doing, his disguise falls from him.
Alice
(recognising him).
Anthony!
[Clings to him for protection, whilst Babington makes a gesture to keep off the rest.
| Anthony Babington | |