[PDF] DENISE STOKLOS IN MARY STUART - New York University

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that Mary Stuart really did want Elizabeth's crown And so Elizabeth finally signed her death sentence Twenty-four hours later she regretted it, and tried to stop the executionÑbut it was too late (Pause She moves the chair offstage Walks center stage ) Mary Stuart's death was a terrible blow to HistoryÕs imagination When the news

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1

DENISE STOKLOS IN MARY STUART

Written by Denise Stoklos

Translated by Marlène Ramírez-Cancio

NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION OR PUBLICATION

Bare stage, a chair stage right. Stoklos, dressed in black leggings and tan top walks center stage, barefoot.

NARRATOR

Elizabeth was twenty-five years old when, inexperienced in the affairs of the State, she succeeded her half-sister on November 17, 1558. It was England's good fortune that the new Queen was endowed by heritage and upbringing with a combination of very remarkable qualities. There could be no doubt who her father was. A commanding stance, auburn hair, eloquence of speech, and natural dignity proclaimed her King Henry's daughter. Other, other, other...(narrator's voice switches to a higher pitch, she looks at her nails) many other similarities (she bites her nails and spits them out) were soon observed: (strong, declamatory voice) high courage in moments of crisis, a fiery and imperious resolution when defied, (whispered voice) and an almost inexhaustible fund of physical energy. She enjoyed many of the same pastimes and accomplishments as the King - a passion for hunting, skill in archery and hawking, and in dance and music. She could speak six languages, and was well read in Latin and Greek. (Narrator's hand begins to shake violently in front of her face) The times demanded a politician, a calculating, devious spirit as the head of State, and this, Elizabeth possessed. She also had an incredible gift for choosing the most able men to help her get the job done. (She runs from one side of the stage to the other.) In quickness of mind the Queen was surpassed by few of her contemporaries, and many envoys to her Court had good reason to acknowledge her liveliness of repartee. In 2 temperament she was subject to fits of melancholy, which alternated between flamboyant merriment and ...convulsive rage!! (She runs her hands through her hair and changes her facial expressions into different "masks" by using her tongue). Oh yes, Elizabeth was terrible, she was often brazen and even coarse in manners and expression. When angered she could box her Treasurer's ears and throw her slipper at her Secretary's face. (Narrator runs upstage left. With her back to the audience, she undulates and shakes her hips). She was outwardly very free in her more tender relations. (Turns around toward the audience, runs downstage). In a sense, her relationship with her subjects was one long flirtation. She gave her country the love she never entirely reposed in any one man, and her people responded with a loyalty that almost amounted to worship. There's a reason why she's known as Good Queen Bessie. (As if balancing on a tightrope) The delicate issue of the Queen's marriage began to cast its shadow across the political scene, and in her attitude, in her attitude, in her attitude, in her attitude, (phrase and physical movement are repeated like a skipping record) one could see the, one could see the, one could see the... (she stops, adds as an aside:) Every day it gets harder and harder to do Latin American theater! (finishing her phrase) One could see the strength of Elizabeth's character. If she married an Englishman, her authority might be weakened, and there would be fighting among the suitors. Those perils were borne in on her as she watched her Court's reactions to her long and deep affection for Robert Dudley, Northumberland's son, whom she made Earl of Leicester. Marrying into one the reigning houses of Europe would mean entangling herself in its European policy and facing the hostility of her husband's rivals. (Goes over to a chair stage right and sits down). 3 Meanwhile there was Mary Stuart, Queen of Ssssssssssssssssssscots. Quem, aos olhos da Europa católica poosuia mais direitos ao trono inglês que sua prima Elizabeth. (Gets up and jumps around. In Portuguese, she speaks in a frantic "gossipy" tone, plays with her hair). Seu jovem marido morreu logo depois de subir ao trono da França e em dezembro de 1560 ela retorna ao seu país, a Escócia. Bem a Mary era assim mais simpleszinha que a Elizabeth, ainda em que elas se achassem em posição similar: Maria também descendia do rei da Inglaterra Henrique VI e assim como Elizabeth estava sem marido... (Catches herself. Regains composure.) I am sorry. I should be trying to speak in English. I am really sorry. (She paces in a circle around the stage.) It's just that when I go deep into my feelings, out comes this Portuguese, which is such an isolated language. Communication problem. Problem. Communication. No problem, I will start the whole thing over again: (She walks offstage, and comes back in. She walks in circles around the stage as she speaks.) Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, was born in 1542. She was Catholic, and was persecuted for being heir to the throne of England, a newly Protestant country. She inherited a wealth of misfortunes and lost many battles in her private and political life. At the age of 22, she was imprisoned by her cousin, Queen Elizabeth of England. One day, after she had been in jail for twenty-two years, one day, Walsingham, one of Elizabeth's counselors, came to see Elizabeth. (She moves the chair to downstage left, and sits). He said: "I think that you should kill Mary Stuart." Elizabeth didn't want to. She would say: "Noooooooooo, nooooooooo, Mary is a distinguished lady. She has her own crown, why would she want mine? No I won't kill her, I won't kill her, I won't kill her." Because in 4 those days it wasn't like today, where governments just go around killing people. Noooooo, back in those days there were trials and things like that. But Walsingham insisted: "Kill her, kill her. She's a Catholic and you are a Protestant," and shit like that. (Moves chair to downstage right, sits). And Elizabeth would say: "Nooo..." (Picking at her toenails) "I would feel horrible if I were guilty of a colleague's death, a sovereign colleague! No, I won't kill her, I won't kill her." But then, Walsingham got a hold of some of Mary Stuart's letters... Because Mary Stuart wrote many letters. My God how many letters she wrote! She wrote so many letters that I had to write a whole scene where I write and send letters. I write and send letters. You will see it in a few moments. I had to write the scene because there were too many letters in this story. So, the letters proved that Mary Stuart really did want Elizabeth's crown. And so Elizabeth finally signed her death sentence. Twenty-four hours later she regretted it, and tried to stop the execution - but it was too late. (Pause. She moves the chair offstage. Walks center stage.). Mary Stuart's death was a terrible blow to History's imagination. When the news arrived in London, shouts of celebration were heard in the streets. That entire day,

Elizabeth stayed alone in her bedroom.

(Runs downstage and addresses the audience). In this play that's starting now, I'd like to perform for you just a few images of these two women, whose power made them enemies: Queen Elizabeth of England (puts both hands near her waist and splays her fingers, indicating a wide skirt, smiles), and I, (voice changes to a tired, low whisper, as she mimes the surface of a wall with her hands) Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland, in this prison where I am condemned to feed myself 5 with my own thoughts. A cold and premeditated rape forced me to marry him. I denounced him to the State Council: I proclaimed, the Earl of Bothwell took possession of me, the Queen, forcing me into the State Council, where he raped me. "It is in the name of love that I rape you, my love. God Save the Queen!" My destiny is to provoke furious, naive, lacerating love. My loyal secretary. I remember this. It is more real than this present moment. I was in a place that looked like this one here, and then I saw him. It was strange because he was crawling. He clung to my skirt crying: "My lady, save me, save me!" He was stabbed fifty times in front of me! I rode on horseback fifty miles, almost delivering the child in my womb. What if I had aborted the future king of Scotland? Where was the father of my baby? Where was my mother? (Screaming, increasingly dramatic) Mother, mother, mom, mummy...! (Aside) This is only theatre. Ce

n'est que du théâtre. É soltanto teatro. É teatro, nada mais que teatro.... (As Mary Stuart

again) Who says I can share this difficult delivery? The child came out shoulders first, ripping me apart. Let me feed him. "Your milk is defective." I want to forget. I want to forget everything that I lived before I ended up in this prison. I just want to remember when I won the battles. How audacious the Queen looked, astride her horse, no armor, inciting and inspiring her Army. Uselessly. To fall prisoner, at the age of 22. Prisoner of my cousin, Queen Elizabeth of England. (Lights fade to black. When they come back up, Stoklos is the cheerful Queen Elizabeth, prancing around the stage with her hands indicating the Queen's skirt. She stops. Speaks more seriously).

QUEEN ELIZABETH

6 Yesterday, out in the courtyard, I saw a young man with bright eyes. "Bring him here." I understand the French Ambassador is waiting to see me. Let him wait! First, bring me that young man. (She turns around and mimes going through a closet full of clothes) I, Queen Elizabeth of England have three thousand dresses, but none of them suits me well. Boots made of deer skin, dog skin, brocade, taffeta. Some parts of my body I never see. (She puts her hands on her genitals. She is quiet, slows down.) It is said we are born naked. When I bathe I have four strong women around me who cover me in bright oils, vapors and foam. I am growing old without becoming aware of my own body. (She bites her nail and spits it out, whining softly.) (Beat. She laughs and runs to a corner, where a spotlight shines down on her. Her back is to the audience, her hands in the "skirt" position.) Oh there's the young man! Come closer, do not be afraid, my boy. What is your name? Hum, hum, hm? What's your name, hm?! Did you lose your tongue? Hum, hum?! It doesn't matter. Your silence and your strong legs say more about you than your name ever could. Now, take off your clothes. Yes, take them off. I only want to look at you. You are so young, beautiful, white. Now, naked like that, come here in front of me, get down on your knees and kiss my feet! (She shrieks with pleasure.) Now, dress yourself, and go back to the courtyard. (Lights back up. She turns around, smiling, and shouts out an order.) Give this young man two gold coins, right now! Yes, let the French Ambassador in. AH! (Blackout. When lights come back up, Queen Elizabeth is sitting on a chair, center stage.)

QUEEN ELIZABETH

7 I proclaim the Parliament is open. I've been crit--... I've been critici-- I've been c- - cockle doodle doo! (Tries to regain composure. Enunciates carefully.) I. Have. Been. Criticized. (She is pleased her words finally came out right.) Oh. I have been criticized today for having summoned both Chambers: the House of Lords, and the House of Commons. One does not like democracy (she looks over to the Lords and smiles), and the other loves democracy (she looks over to the Commons and gives them the finger). I am not ashamed for having summoned the Commons, who have been absent and speechless for so long. These people here are the merchants, the peasants, the common people, the workers, the people who are fucked. Our Lords are frequently intolerant for no reason. If they only understood how much their silence and their political passivity have helped me rule this country doing whatever I want! Then our Lords would be less, I mean much, much, much less intolerant. These people have helped us pay off our debts obtaining loans at minimum, minimum, interest rates. They have proven to be wise, considerate and concerned, manifesting a new kind of intelligence, the kind that can keep this country united. Thus, thus, I proclaim that from this day forth, these people will be able to vote in Parliament just like the Lords. Don't even bother complaining, being offended, crying out in despair. I see you, Lord Hamilton. You look furious, horrified. Your face is bright red like the wattle of an enraged turkey. Bring him a bit of water and some vinegar. Brace yourself, Lord Hamilton, because there's more change to come: From this moment on, those who earn more will pay higher taxes than those who earn less.... (YAWNS repeatedly, stretching her body, scratching herself.) This topic always makes me sleepy. Those who earn more will be taxed more, and those who earn less will be taxed less. I have heard this before. Anyway! Changing the subject, moving on to something that is 8 constantly on your minds, keeping you from considering much more essential matters, let's address the eternal issue of: my wedding. To those of you who think it's impossible for an unmarried woman to rule a country, I would like to say that my husband is my country and all my subjects are my children. (She gets dreamy, childlike, and breastfeeds an imagined child in her arms. She is sad, weeps, has a hard time speaking.) However, however, however, in the meantime, to demonstrate my good will, I will consider all suitors who wish to court me. I must always consider the interests of England as paramount. Maybe I will never choose to marry any of them. In such an event, I wish to have this written on my tombstone: "Here lies a Queen who lived and died a virgin!"

The session is closed. AH!

(Blackout. Opera music. A rectangle of light up on Stoklos, who moves silently along with the music: She writes, signs, folds, and sends letters in a repeated cycle of movement.)

MARY STUART

Dear cousin Elizabeth. I write you so many letters from my prison. And you never answer any of them. Maybe you want to prove to me that when we live in times like these, where there is no respect for justice or dignity, then any attempt at communication is useless. Should I stop? Should I stop? Does anything I am trying to do here make any sense to you, or should I stop? I don't know. (Addressing the audience) But I think that for you, who left your families at home and came to the theater so you could reflect about freedom - and for me--if the only way I can express my desire for freedom is by writing a letter, then I will certainly write you another letter: Dear cousin Elizabeth!! (She steps out of the rectangle of light, and walks to a new circular spotlight. Throughout this next letter, she begins by walking in circles, and by the end, she is dragging herself in circles 9 on the floor.). Some time ago, people used to say: if one of us had been a man, we would have been the most sensible matrimony in History. I would have married you with pleasure. If that could have happened, we would be happy right now. We would see England and Scotland united in a lovely and harmonious bond. Am I getting sentimental? Am I getting old and sentimental? If Scotland wants to remain Catholic, this matrimony would be its ruin. I always worshipped you. I would give my life to see you. The enamel ring with your initials still embraces my finger. I wrote you many letters. I came to you as a supplicant, and you, trampling on the laws of hospitality, have held me between these walls. Had you recognized me as the heir that I am, you would now have the comfort and support of a loyal and devoted relative. Europe is watching you, my Queen. Behave with justice. From the one who loves you most and you love least: Mary Stuart. (Blackout. When the spotlight comes back on, Mary Stuart is standing behind a chair.)

MARY STUART

Dear cousin Elizabeth: I write you another letter from my prison. But you never answer any of them. Maybe you want to prove to me that when we live in times like these, where there is no respect for human values, for justice, for equality, then any attempt at communication is useless. Should I stop? Am I making sense? Should I go work in soap operas? I think that for you, who left your families at home and came to the theater so you could reflect about freedom -- and for me, right now at this very moment, if the only way we can express our desire for freedom is by writing a letter, oh, then I will certainly write you another letter. Dear cousin Elizabeth! Maybe you don't answer me because you 10 don't understand my bad English? But Portuguese is such an isolated language. Communication problem. No problem, I will try over and over again. Dear cousin Elizabeth. One thought alone dominates my mind, holding it in joy and sorrow, so that I hear the voices of hope and fear as I lie awake at night. And if my heart chooses this missive as messenger, and announces my desire to see you, then, dear sister, a new fear seizes me, because it lacks the power to prove its sincerity. I see the boat in the harbor almost hidden and held back by the storm and the force of the waves, and the serene face of heaven darkened by night. So I too am beset by my own fears and worries. Not fear of you, my sister, not fear of you, but fear of the establishment that hurls down the sail in which we put our hopes for social change. (A phone rings. Blackout. It keeps ringing in the dark. Pause. When the lights come back up, Stoklos is sitting in a chair center stage, her back to the audience .We hear a chorus sing: "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven eight..." Stoklos stands up and moves around the stage, performing repeated actions like touching the wall, brushing her teeth, punching the air, touching her face, running in place, ... Music stops. Blackout. ) (The phone rings. Lights up on Stoklos, who is lying on the floor in front of the chair with her eyes closed. Startled by the ringing of the phone, she wakes up and answers, grabbing a phone from under the chair.) Hello? A phone call from 400 years ago? International? Mary Stuart! You are in prison too!? AH!

MARY STUART

(Lying on the ground, sucking her thumb.) 11 I remember my mother coming to my bedroom before I fell asleep. I would lie there waiting for her. Then I would hear her steps on the wooden floor, and she would enter in a rush of velvet, her lilac perfume mingling with her sweat. Beautiful Ann Boleyn seldom walked. She ran. Her neck extended ahead of her. That long and delicate neck was cut by an axe. Whack! That beautiful mother's head dropped into the basket. (She writhes in pain.) You know? I don't like to read the newspaper. I always think I'll see headlines about the lack of protection from my Father State and my Mother Society. I don't like to open baskets: I always think that when the lid comes off, I will be looking at my mothers' head.quotesdbs_dbs5.pdfusesText_10