SCENE THREE
Edinburgh a few days later. Ogilvie’s room in Spottiswoode’s house in the Canongate. A barely furnished room containing no more than a bed, a table and two chairs. OGILVIE is seated at the table, writing. An empty chair is opposite the table. SPOTTISWOODE enters. OGILVIE glances up briefly but continues to write.
SPOTTISWOODE: Guid afternoon Faither. And hou are ye the day?
OGILVIE: (continues writing, finishing with a flourish of his pen) As well, my Lord Archbishop, as can be expected. Really Spottiswoode, these questions that you ask me are ridiculous!
SPOTTISWOODE: (raising one eyebrow) It is your answers which interest me, Ogilvie — no your opinion of the questions. (Indicates the paper on which OGILVIE had been writing)
Ye have finished?
(OGILVIE rather sourly pushes the paper across the desk and walks away. SPOTTISWOODE seats himself on the empty chair and begins to read the paper)
SPOTTISWOODE: (reading) ‘Whether the Pope be judge and have power in Spiritualibus over His Majesty, and whether that power will reach over His Majesty even in temporalibus if it be in ordine ad spiritualia as Bellarmine affirmeth.’ Aye. Well, we aa ken the answer to that ane. Nane of us has the power to speir sic a thing of ye.
OGILVIE: (turning) Nor I to answer such a question! Let us be quite plain about this — just what is it that you are asking me to pronounce on? This matter has been hotly contested by two of the most brilliant minds in Europe — namely King James and Cardinal Bellarmine. Father Francisco Suarez has also written on the subject and I, as a Jesuit and a good Catholic, naturally incline to the Jesuit and Catholic point of view — but, my good Spottiswoode, I am a very junior and unimportant Jesuit and it would be hardly fitting for me to enter publicly into such a controversy. Besides, what possible purpose could be served by any answer I might give? It would affect the issue neither way.
SPOTTISWOODE: (sighs and shakes his head incredulously) Faither Ogilvie, whiles ye bumbaze me! Never mind. (Reads on) ‘Whether the Pope has the power to excommunicate kings (especially such as are not of his Church) as His Majesty?’ Hmm. Faither Ogilvie, I fear that I am unable to understand your answer. The Pope, ye say, can excommunicate His Majesty? I do not understand that.
OGILVIE: What is there to understand? Of course the Holy Father has the power!
SPOTTISWOODE: But — by your own argument — His Majesty is a heretic. And if His Majesty is a heretic, he cannot be a Catholic.
OGILVIE: (with a long-suffering sigh) A simple analogy. An outlaw is outside the law as far as the protection of the law is concerned — but he can be apprehended and tried and convicted by and according to the law. In just the same way a heretic is outwith Mother Church as far as her blessings are concerned but is still subject to her justice — and to her punishment.
SPOTTISWOODE: I see. We are aa spiritual outlaws then?
OGILVIE: Yes.
SPOTTISWOODE: Even the youngest bairn baptised the day by a Calvinist minister?
OGILVIE: Yes. Yes. The Pope acquires his authority over man by baptism. Man enters Christ’s flock through baptism and the Pope is the shepherd of that flock.
SPOTTISWOODE: (sighs) Man, d’ye ken what ye’re saying? There’s scarce a man in Scotland’d have his bairn baptised under sic conditions!
OGILVIE: That is a matter of opinion. It may be true of those who despise Christ and serve the Devil — it is certainly not true of the faithful. And there are many more of these in Scotland than you, perhaps, imagine.
SPOTTISWOODE: (sighs again, reads on) ‘Whether the Pope has power to depose kings by him excommunicated? And in particular whether he have the power to depose the King, His Majesty.’ Aye. Aye. the auld sang. Nane of us has the authority.
OGILVIE: No.
SPOTTISWOODE: ‘Whether it be no murder to slay His Majesty, being so excommunicated and deposed by the Pope?’ And here we are again! No spiritual jurisdiction! Can ye no, in aa conscience, give your opinion?
OGILVIE: No.
SPOTTISWOODE: Ye gave it to me! Ye told me that ye despised murder! Why could ye no have said the same to the Commission?
OGILVIE: You have my answer there. You’ll have to be satisfied with that.
SPOTTISWOODE: (reading on with a withering look in OGILVIE’s direction) ‘Whether the Pope has power to assoyle subjects from the oath of their borne and natural allegiance to His Majesty?’ (Sighs deeply) With your customary arrogance, ye condem the Oath of Allegiance. (Lays the paper aside)
OGILVIE: I most certainly do.
(SPOTTISWOODE bows his head wearily, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. After a moment, he looks across at OGILVIE)
SPOTTISWOODE: Faither, d’ye ken wha framed these questions?
OGILVIE: No.
SPOTTISWOODE: Ye have no idea?
OGILVIE: No. I assumed that it was a joint decision — yourself and some, perhaps all, of your colleagues on the Commission.
(SPOTTISWOODE shakes his head, taps the table, rises. He walks about a little, folds his hands purposefully behind his back)
SPOTTISWOODE: Faither Ogilvie, I’ll leave ye without any doubts. The answers ye have given to these questions will send you to the gallows. You are going to hang.
OGILVIE: I am not afraid to die.
SPOTTISWOODE: Aye, I thocht ye’d be pleased! (Loses his temper momentarily, leans over the table towards OGILVIE) But I am nocht concerned with the smaa-boukit ambitions of your vanity! (Turns away and faces about until his temper is under control)
These questions are speired at you by no lesser person than His Gracious Majesty King James the Saxt of Scotland and First of England! (Pauses to glower at OGILVIE) When ye were arrested in Glasgow — on that same night — I scrieved a letter to the King, I thocht — and still think — that ye were involved in a plot to murder His Majesty. Oh Faither Ogilvie, ye have been used in a maist merciful manner! I would hae given ye the boots — and micht yet! But His Majesty thocht otherwise. These questions were put to ye in order that ye micht have the chance to prove your lealty and allegiance to your King! Well, they have disproved it! They demonstrate quite clearly how small a value ye place upon your King and your country — the insolence and provocative nature of these answers will put a rope about your thrapple! Mind on that when ye mount the gallows!
OGILVIE: I do not know what you want of me. I have given the only answers I possibly could. I have replied with all the honesty and sincerity that I could muster.
SPOTTISWOODE: Certes, Man! It’s not a question of honesty or sincerity but of tact! There’s little wrong with the substance of your answer — it’s the manner of the replies! Have ye read what ye hae scrieved? In every single instance — forby the ane anent the Pope’s power of excommunication — ye deny the authority and jurisdiction of the King’s Commission!
OGILVIE: Do you expect me to affirm it?
SPOTTISWOODE: Ye are no required to affirm or to deny! Aa ye had to say — aa ye hae to say is that ye do not ken! Ye’ll get away with your answer anent excommunication — the King and the other Commissioners’ll be as bumbazed as I was by it, but they’ll no pay it muckle heed. As for the others, ye can just say what ye’ve just this minute said to me — ye are only a humble priest, no very important, and ye have no opinion in the matter.
OGILVIE: And such a reply would release me?
SPOTTISWOODE: No from the King’s Justice. There’s aye the matter of the Masses ye have said — ye maun be tried and punished for that. But ye’ll no hang for saying Masses.
OGILVIE: I see. (Thinks about it for a moment) You are, of course, aware that I have yet to stand trial?
SPOTTISWOODE: (irritably) Ye’ll stand trial when the nature of your crime can be determined. It is the purpose of the King’s Commission to gather evidence for the trial. This (indicates the deposition) would make any trial for treason a formality!
OGILVIE: And if I answer as you advise?
SPOTTISWOODE: In any trial for treason, the process of law would be open to ye. In practice, I doubt very much whether sic a charge would be brocht.
OGILVIE: But I would be charged with saying Masses?
SPOTTISWOODE: Of course. Charged, convicted and banished from His Majesty’s dominions.
OGILVIE: You seem remarkably sure of the outcome!
SPOTTISWOODE: These are troubled times we live in, Faither Ogilvie.
OGILVIE: Indeed they are, Archbishop, indeed they are! (Pauses thoughtfully) Why are you doing this, Spottiswoode?
SPOTTISWOODE: I beg your pardon?
OGILVIE: Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to persuade me to change my deposition? After all, you said just now that you believed me to be involved in a plot to murder the King. You are quite mistaken but I shan’t argue about it — you are obviously persuaded otherwise. In your eyes, I am a potential assassin. Why should you seek to allow me to escape with my life?
SPOTTISWOODE: There are larger issues at stake.
OGILVIE: Larger than the King’s safety?
SPOTTISWOODE: Larger than the life of one extremely ineffectual conspirator! Look, Ogilvie. If you are banished, I will be quit of ye — alive or dead, it’s aa the same to me!
OGILVIE: (with a deep breath) Then I am afraid that it will have to be dead. For I cannot and will not change my deposition.
SPOTTISWOODE: Certes man, are ye wyce?
OGILVIE: Wise or foolish, I will not change my deposition.
SPOTTISWOODE: Damn you, John Ogilvie, for a bloody fanatic! What on God’s earth d’ye hope to gain from this?
OGILVIE: Gain? I have no thought of gain. I am as in love with life as any man — but I will not change my deposition!
SPOTTISWOODE: But why, man, why? After aa I hae tellt ye?
OGILVIE: There are too many considerations. Far too many.
SPOTTISWOODE: Considerations? Certes man — there maun be plenty of considerations to gar a man die for his faith — there’s nothing byordnar about that! But this is phraseology, a trick of speech, no mair nor that! With just a wheen changing of words, ye micht be as free as air! My God, man — ye cannae die for an attitude, a pose! Hou in the warld can sic a thing be justified?
OGILVIE: It can be justified because I justify it! That is enough.
SPOTTISWOODE: Pride!
OGILVIE: Not pride but dignity! The dignity of Mother Church. (Sighs) You can neither understand nor sympathise. How can you when you do not know what dignity means? We speak in different tongues, Spottiswoode. You and I, we speak in different languages. When you accuse me of attitudes and poses, you do no more than judge me by your own standards. You call yourself Archbishop of Glasgow — what is that but a pose? What is that but a cynical attitude towards a noble and ancient office? You are no more Archbishop of Glasgow than I am — but it’s little you care about that! You are quite happy to be an imposter as long as it serves your purpose. So I can expect nothing from you. (Suddenly angry)
But I know very well what you expect from me! You would have me go before this illegal commission and — what’s the expression — play the daft laddie! That’s it, isn’t it? That’s what you want. Then you would spank the daft laddie’s bottom and kick him out of the country — kick me out of my own country — hoping, no doubt, that Catholicism would go with me! Oh My Lord Archbishop, how mistaken you are! I may not be more than a priest — and not a very significant one at that — but when I take my place before that court, I will be the representative of the Church of the Risen Christ! And if my faith is to be defiled and humiliated in this land, this will not be the hand that does it! I will not change my deposition.
SPOTTISWOODE: (stonily) Then ye maun take the consequences.
OGILVIE: Do you think I’m not ready for that?
SPOTTISWOODE: It will mean daith — and worse than daith!
OGILVIE: (scornfully) Oh Spottiswoode, what a wonderful hangman you’d make! Do you think that I care in the least for your threats? I haven’t asked you for any favours and I never will. I despise you, Spottiswoode. I despise you and your threats and your damned heretic malice! Do what you can and see if it makes any difference to me! I’ll willingly suffer more in this cause than you and your henchmen can ever inflict!
SPOTTISWOODE: Will ye suffer the boots?
OGILVIE: Oh stop making those threats! Whatever you are going to do to me, do it! You won’t frighten me with threats! I’m not a hysterical woman, you know. You don’t frighten me! All you do is to give me fresh heart — your threats are like the cackling of so many geese! Do what you have to do, Spottiswoode! Do not talk about it! I am not afraid. When are you going to understand that? I am not afraid. All I ask is that, whatever you do, you do quickly.
SPOTTISWOODE: The boots’ll no be quick.
OGILVIE: Damn your boots! I am not afraid of your boots!
SPOTTISWOODE: Are ye no? (Looks at OGILVIE thoughtfully for a moment, then turns to the door. He looks once at OGILVIE’S back before calling out) Wattie! Are ye there? Come in a minute. I want ye!
(WAT is a middle-aged man of medium height, rather squat in appearance and wearing a perpetually dour and surly expression)
WAT: M’lord?
SPOTTISWOODE: (to OGILVIE) Wat is a great authority on the boots, Faither Ogilvie. (OGILVIE glances over his shoulder at WAT, then looks away) I’ll let him take a look at ye and then he’ll maybe be guid enough to explain to ye just exactly what is entailed. Wat?
(Hands on hips, WAT walks slowly round OGILVIE, keeping a distance of approximately six feet between himself and the priest. He is carefully examining OGILVIE’S legs, behaving rather like a tradesman who has been asked to measure for a job of work and is making a preliminary inspection. Eventually he stops and addresses himself to SPOTTISWOODE)
WAT: I’ll dae the richt ane first, m’lord. That’s the usual. (Squats beside OGILVIE’S right leg. OGILVIE eyes him apprehensively all the time) Generally get mair purchase on that leg. Mair muscle, ye see.
SPOTTISWOODE: (nodding) Aye.
WAT: Fower splints, m’lord. Ane here, (indicating the inside of the leg) ane here, (indicating the outside of the leg) ane here (indicating the back of the leg) and ane here (indicating the front of the leg). Fower tichteners. Ane at the ankle, ane on the shin — jist ablow the knee — ane on the thigh — jist abune the knee — and ane on the thigh again, jist ablow the hip. (Stands up and stretches)
There’s been a wheen airgument aboot the best place tae drive in the wedge — Oh! (Takes a wooden wedge from the inside of his tunic and holds it up for them both to see) This is the wedge. As I say, there’s been a bit ο airgument aboot the best place to drive it in. Some say that ye’re better wi the ootside ο the leg (Laughs) — I think that’s daft. I mysel prefer to drive the wedge in on the inside. Ye get mair purchase, m’lord. D’ye understand? (Demonstrates on his own leg) The wedge has got mair tae drive intae. (Sniffs speculatively) Purchase is the secret in this game m’lord. Gin the wedge was big enough and I could get the purchase, I could drive it frae the tap ο the hip-bane aa the way through tae the sowls ο the feet!
OGILVIE: (hoarsely) And how far will you drive it in my case?
WAT: (addressing OGILVIE directly for the first time) Depends. Depends mainly on the Airchbishop but it depends on yersel anaa. I’ll be hammerin awa wi the mallet richt up til the minute I’m tellt tae stop.
SPOTTISWOODE: (all but crying out to OGILVIE) Three blows of the mallet will gar the marrow spurt from your banes!
WAT: (with some relish) Jist sae, m’lord. Jist sae.
SPOTTISWOODE: That will be enough for nou, Wat. Away ye go.
WAT: (taking his leave) Thank ye, m’lord. (Grinning wolfishly at both of them) I’ll be at yer service whenever ye need me.
(Exit WAT)
SPOTTISWOODE: Well. Nou ye ken what’s in store for ye.
OGILVIE: I certainly do.
SPOTTISWOODE: And ye will not change your deposition?
OGILVIE: No.
SPOTTISWOODE: (exasperated) Ogilvie, ye are beyond me! I swear your perversity leaves me speechless! Ye would thole sic a torment as thon rather than make a reasonable deposition …
OGILVIE: (incredulously) Reason? What are you talking about? The boots are hardly instruments of reason!
SPOTTISWOODE: There would be no need for the boots — nor, indeed any other method — if ye would but purge the arrogance and pride from this deposition! Ogilvie, I beseech ye — in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ I beseech ye — do not make me do this thing to you. Change your deposition! For the love of God, man, have some sense!
OGILVIE: Sense? Who are you to talk of sense to me? We are beyond that now. Good Lord, Spottiswoode, even if I had been willing before to do as you ask, I cannot do so now. Can’t you see that? If I did, I would seem to have been moved and led by feeling, like a beast — and not by reason, like a man. You cannot move me by reason and you will not move me by feeling. But try your boots, Spottiswoode! Try them and see how far you get! Try your boots and I’ll show you that, in this cause, I care as much for your boots as you for your leggings! For I know myself born for greater things than to be overcome by sense! I put my trust in the Grace of God and you can do whatever you like! I will ask you for nothing — and I will neither alter nor add to anything I have said!
SPOTTISWOODE: (turning to leave) Ye won’t? Very well. Only mind on this — the pain ye suffer wilna be the pain of the martyr. Ye maun think what ye like — you are no martyr, John Ogilvie, and aa the suffering in the warld winna make ye ane!
(Exit SPOTTISWOODE. Somewhat shakily, OGILVIE goes to the table and takes his seat. He draws a piece of paper towards him and begins to write. Before he has written two words, he breaks down and weeps uncontrollably. He beats his fist on the table repeatedly)
OGILVIE: I am not afraid! I am not afraid! I am not afraid!