liBRARY K ^^ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/anthonybabingtonOOfanerich ^ ANTHONY BABINGTON ANTHONY BABINGTON A DRAMA ,^_po-)-^^\^ , W > \\'\ , BY VIOLET FANE AUTHOR OF "dENZIL PLACE," "tHE QUEEN OF THE FAIRIES," ETC. LONDON CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY 1877 :harles dickens and evans, crystal falace press. felFT ^54 It is exactly two hundred and ninety years ago since most of the personages of whom mention is here made, suffered death upon a well-established charge of High Treason. If I have not represented Babington as being altogether a hero, it is, that a careful study of what is left for us to study, in his character, has seemed to justify to myself the view I have taken of it, and of the varying impulses which led him to associate himself with the religious politics of his day, and to give his countenance to the commission of a murder which appeared to him- self and his partisans as an Act of Faith. Alice and Willoughby are merely imaginary characters, for though there is no reason why Jerome Bellamy should not have had a niece, I do not find any mention of one. The kinship here supposed to exist between this family and that of Babington is also imagined, as is Babington's interview with the iviS65208 Queen of Scots at Tutbury, with whom, though he had so warmly embraced her cause, he never came in personal contact after her removal from Sheffield. But with these exceptions, this, my first Play, has, perhaps (amongst many others), the defect of being " a mere sHce of history," and unfitted in form for the stage, even cOuld an audience be found patient enough to sit out so tragic a tragedy. How- ever, " Let me be a warning to all young gentlemen, especially ^ I warrant you. After all they were no freebooters, but some of our queen's party on the look out for traitors. It seems Peter Barton, a servant of Babing- ton's, had turned queen's evidence, and was on the look out, deeming, no doubt, when he came into these parts that, as he was your kinsman, he would be your guest. This ruffian was shot by Mr. Bellingham, my travelling companion, who took him for the robber he seemed, and I had afterwards some trouble in proving their error to those that had hold of me, as, having on me a letter for him, and the darkness some- what hiding my features, they took my grizzled locks for a wig, and my sturdier frame for borrowed flesh, for it seems he hath many disguises, being sometimes 138 AntJioiiy Bahiitgton. [act iv. arrayed as a soldier, a rustic, an Abraham-man, or a Tom o' Bedlam, and so would have it until daylight that I was Babington and no other. Alice. And Mr. Bellingham ? WiLLOUGHBY. He was off across the bleak moorland like a roe-deer. One had said he fear'd for his life had he not seem'd hitherto a gallant young gentleman — nor since then have I heard of him. Alice. Nor I either \ and these men read my letter ? WiLLOUGHBY. These men read your letter, and, throwing it back to me, said it was only from some foolish wench who was sweet on the traitor, tho' they said it proved his treasons without doubt, in that his sweet- heart prayed him to desist from them. So this was the man you lov'd ! — z. traitor — a renegade — one who would have compassed the queen's death ! Alice. Ah cousin, spare me ! SCI.] Anthony Babington. 139 WiLLOUGHBY. It was for him that as a thing of naught you set aside the love of an honest man— for the sake of one whose name will be for ever a slur on his old house— and a byword for the whole of loyal England to scoff at ! Alice. I will not answer you; my lips are sealed. You are speaking at random, knowing no more who is the man I have loved than you know now where is that Babington at whom" you are jeering. WiLLOUGHBY. Ha ! I do not know where he is ? Am I so far from suspecting his whereabouts? Why, then, am I here ? Did I come once more to madden myself with your scorn of my love ? Nay ! I obeyed but the voice of a stem necessity which bids me search this house in the queen's name. Anthony Babington is in this house. Alice. In this house ? Nay, you are speaking, indeed, at random ! 140 Anthony Babington. [act iv. WiLLOUGHBY. Thank God if I am, Alice. I would not for worlds that Anthony Babington were found in this house ; for if he is here it is that as is suspected — your uncle is one of his accomplices. And though, if he leave as my prisoner, he is a doomed man (since out of the loyalty that I owe the queen I will not that he escape), and though you once said to me that whilst he lived you would wed " no other living man," still, such is the folly of love, Alice, that though I answered then, " Would that he were dead," I say now, " Would heaven I may not bring him to his death, would heaven I could save him!" Alice {bitterly). And yet you would not that he escape you ? Such is the love of a man ! WiLLOUGHBY. Such is the duty of a soldier to his queen. Then he is here ? I pray'd this had not been ! Alice {excitedly'). Ah ! now I have it ! All is as plain as day. My grandfather's will left me my uncle's heir if I should SCI.] Antho7iy Babingto7t. 141 wed a Protestant and found a family professing the new religion. You are my guardian, my kinsman, and a Protestant to boot, a soldier, and one trusted of the queen. With all this you might hold high junketing in London and at Court had you but the wherewithal — but this, you have said, will come in marrying me. This is your boasted love ; this is why you come to me now, my heart bleeding for my poor kinsman, my playmate, my childhood's friend — and tell me he is doomed to die, that a price is set on his head, and that he is a regicide, a traitor, and a disgrace to his old house ! WiLLOUGHBY. Calm yourself, Alice ; you are unjust. [AsiWe.] Ah, this was then really the man she loved ! Alice. You hope for his death ! You hope for my uncle's attainder ! These two out of your path, and, you have said, "I shall gain two things" — by which you meant, a rich wife and the death of one you thought she had loved ; forby, if my uncle dies, and I am wedded to you, a Protestant, I am his heir— his heir and your wife, as you think. You think these old 142 Anthony Babington, [act iv. elm trees, crowned with their crow colonies, will bow their heads to you and own you for master. You are mistaken. You are blind. You do not know. No, no, never ! never ! Each sighing tree would seem a wailing ghost to you. All these pictures would scowl at you from under their beetle brows. These creaking wainscots would sound as the grating laughter of fiends. At midnight his white face would haunt you, whilst everything, alive or dead, from roof to basement, from the song of the first sad bird at dawn to the croak of the black rook that comes home last from the fields at eventide, would hiss at you the same words, "Anthony Babing- ton is gone, and it was you that brought him to his death ! " [ Weeps. WiLLOUGHBY. Then Babington is here in hiding ? And I, with my great love for you, must deal you this blow. Alice. I swear he is not here. He is no more here than your love. I have found the key-note to your love ! WiLLOUGHBY. My poor child, you know not what you are saying. sc. I.] Anthony Babington. 143 The loyal soldier who weds with the daughter or niece of a traitor hath to swallow much that is not to his liking ; though this one who loves her will readily do. If Anthony Babington is found in this house it is true that he is a dead man, and so far out of my way if he is the man who stood between us. But this fact will prove your uncle is of the plot. He will suffer with Babington. His goods will be forfeited to the Crown, and you are a pauper and homeless ; and so I say, not for myself but for you, pray Heaven we find no traitors in this house. Alice. I will swear to you, by all that I hold sacred, he is not here ! Enter unperceived Jerome Bellamy a7id Father Harington.] Bellamy {aside to Harington). Did I not say that you may always trust a woman to lie .? WiLLOUGHBY {cOJltimutlg) . I will take your word, cousin Alice ; and though my warrant obliges me to search the house and the 144 Anthony Babington. [act iv. woods surrounding it, you may be sure I shall in no way abuse me of so undesired an authority. Alice. Thank you, cousin ; and I crave your forgiveness if any of my bitter words wounded your kind heart. I have been well-nigh beside myself since this bad news. WiLLOUGHBY. I will not let this stand between what you would call our friendship, Alice. [Perceiving Bellamy.] Kinsman, I have a sad duty to perform. I hold here a warrant to search your house for some traitors who are known to be harboured in this neighbour- hood. They have doubled, like foxes, and you must not marvel if your religion, coupled with your kinship to this Babington, maketh it suspected that he may be here. Bellamy (ironically). Sir, you have but your duty to perform. Go, search every nook and corner of this poor dwelling. See, here are the keys of every chamber, and those that are unlocked you will be free to enter. In one you will find my aged mother in her bed, upon sc. I.] Anthony Babington. 145 whom all these dire tidings have fallen as a bolt from heaven. Spare her gray head as much as you can of what must needs bow it to the dust ! This worthy Father \jpointing to the priest\ who has been for many years my counsellor and spiritual guide, desires that he escape not the humiliations that have been heaped upon others of his cloth. He desires, nay, he deftiands, that you search him, as also the chamber in which he is lodged. Nay, tear aside his soutane and look that beneath it he doth not wear trunk hose. Mark well the cut of his tonsure. See, he has bared his white hairs WiLLOUGHBY {embarrassed). Nay, cousin, you both wound and embarrass me \ — this is a sad duty. Bellamy {continuing). Here, sir, is my library or study [opens a door to left'] — here where it is my habit to write. Search each paper and document, nay, look well betwixt the leaves of each old book, and see that you examine the fittings of the wainscot. To the left there are situate my kitchens, larders, and outhouses, not forgetting the wood-lofts and hay-ricks, for 'tis 146 Anthony Babington. [act iv. a common trick of your conspirators to hide amongst hay or faggots. Here are my serving men and maids who are at present lingering over their ale [opening a door to right']. Look well at each one of them. Rise, varlets, and pull your forelocks to the gentleman who is searching the house in the name of the queen ! [Servants discovered at supper. WiLLOUGHBY {scarcely looking at the servants assembled). You are hard on me, cousin ! Alice. Uncle, you are hard on cousin Nicholas, who wishes us no ill ! WiLLOUGHBY. God knows I do not, and I heartily trust my search may prove unsuccessful. Have I your per- mission to do my sad duty ? I search first the house and then the gardens and grounds. Bellamy. Assuredly, sir; and lest it be thought we go but to throw dust in your eyes, neither myself nor any of my family shall accompany you. [Exit WiLLOUGHBY. sc. I.] Anthony Babington. 147 [^Triumphantly J as soon as he has departed ?[ Aye, blockhead, go and search among stocks and stones for the man who stood anon but three paces from you ! Go into byre and barn, and turn over the straw in the horses' stall. You will not find him. Anthony Babington is here ! {Enter Babington, Barnwell, and Donn, disguised as rustics, from room to the right ^ Alice (/// horror). What, here ! Anthony here ! Great God, what will become of us ! Babington. Thanks to you all for helping us to outwit that short-sighted swashbuckler. These are my two friends, Mr. Robert Barnwell and Mr. Henry Donn; but for you \turning to Bellamy] we had all been in a sorry plight. Alice {in alarm). Back, then, to your place of hiding, for the love of heaven, since you are here ! Babington. Not till I have pledged you all in this bumper, L 2 148 Anthony Bahhigton. [act iv. and drank the health of our sovereign lady the queen. \Rai5ing glass^ Long live Queen Mary ! WiLLOUGHBY {entering uiiperceived). Nay, long live Queen Elizabeth ! Anthony Babing- ton, Robert Barnwell, and Henry Donn, I arrest you in the name of the queen's majesty ! [Aside.] Though would to heaven some other man had the doing of this deed! [Enter soldiers^ sen^ants, 6^i\.