Page:Notes on the Royal Academy Exhibition, 1868 (IA gri 33125011175656).pdf/48

38 This select sample of historic art in England is a picture of Mary Stuart about to sign her abdication. Posthumous parasites have often libelled her with praise of pencil or of pen; but retribution never yet fell heavier on her memory. She, the woman of such keen clear wits, such indomitable nerves, such pitiless charms and such tameless passions, that the very record of them can yet seduce and daunt men as she daunted and seduced them of old—the fairest, subtlest, hardest among women, with a heart of iron and fire—she shows here a fool's face, doubtful between a simper and a sob, raised in pitiable appeal to a ring of stagestruck ruffians. The picture is worth notice as a tangible piece of proof that certain men do really accept this as the historic type of a figure so famous as hers. Another hand has drawn her portrait, perhaps somewhat nearer life, to this effect; (I take leave to cite the lines as a corrective, being reminded of them at sight of this picture. They may perhaps find place here, as the Queen of Scots figures thrice in this year's show:)—

"Nor shall men ever say But she was born right royal; full of sins, Dyed hand and tongue with bloody stains and black, Unmerciful, unfaithful, but of heart So high and fiery, and of spirit so clear, in extreme danger and pain so lifted up, So of all violent things inviolable, So large of courage, so superb of soul, So sheathed with iron mind invincible And arms unbleached of fireproof constancy— By shame not shaken, fear or force or death, Change, or all confluence of calamities— And so at her worst need beloved, and so, (Naked of help and honour when she seemed, As other women would be, of their strength Stript) still so of herself adorable, She shall be a world's wonder to all time, A deadly glory watched of marvelling men Not without praise, not without noble tears, And if without what she would never have Who had it never, pity-yet from none Quite without reverence and some kind of love For that which was so royal."

Having delivered my soul as to this matter, I return not