Demetrius (play) Read online

  Demetrius (play)

  Friedrich Schiller

  Frederich Schiller. Demetrius (play)

  This eBook was produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger, [email protected]

  DEMETRIUS

  By Frederich Schiller

  ACT I.

  SCENE I.

  THE DIET AT CRACOW.

  On the rising of the curtain the Polish Diet is discovered, seated

  in the great senate hall. On a raised platform, elevated by three

  steps, and surmounted by a canopy, is the imperial throne, the

  escutcheons of Poland and Lithuania suspended on each side. The KING

  seated upon the throne; on his right and left hand his ten royal

  officers standing on the platform. Below the platform the BISHOPS,

  PALATINES, and CASTELLANS seated on each side of the stage.

  Opposite to these stand the Provincial DEPUTIES, in a double line,

  uncovered. All armed. The ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN, as the primate of

  the kingdom, is seated next the proscenium; his chaplain behind him,

  bearing a golden cross.

  ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.

  Thus then hath this tempestuous Diet been

  Conducted safely to a prosperous close;

  And king and commons part as cordial friends.

  The nobles have consented to disarm,

  And straight disband the dangerous Rocoss [1];

  Whilst our good king his sacred word has pledged,

  That every just complaint shall have redress.

  And now that all is peace at home, we may

  Look to the things that claim our care abroad.

  Is it the will of the most high Estates

  That Prince Demetrius, who hath advanced

  A claim to Russia's crown, as Ivan's son,

  Should at their bar appear, and in the face

  Of this august assembly prove his right?

  [1] An insurrectionary muster of the nobles.

  CASTELLAN OF CRACOW.

  Honor and justice both demand he should;

  It were unseemly to refuse his prayer.

  BISHOP OF WERMELAND.

  The documents on which he rests have been

  Examined, and are found authentic. We

  May give him audience.

  SEVERAL DEPUTIES.

  Nay! We must, we must!

  LEO SAPIEHA.

  To hear is to admit his right.

  ODOWALSKY.

  And not

  To hear is to reject his claims unheard.

  ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.

  Is it your will that he have audience?

  I ask it for the second time-and third.

  IMPERIAL CHANCELLOR.

  Let him stand forth before our throne!

  SENATORS.

  And speak!

  DEPUTIES.

  Yes, yes! Let him be heard!

  [The Imperial GRAND MARSHAL beckons with his baton

  to the doorkeeper, who goes out.

  LEO SAPIEHA (to the CHANCELLOR).

  Write down, my lord,

  That here I do protest against this step,

  And all that may ensue therefrom, to mar

  The peace of Poland's state and Moscow's crown.

  [Enters DEMETRIUS. Advances some steps towards the throne,

  and makes three bows with his head uncovered, first to the KING,

  next to the SENATORS, and then to the DEPUTIES, who all severally

  answer with an inclination of the head. He then takes up his

  position so as to keep within his eye a great portion of the

  assemblage, and yet not to turn his back upon the throne.

  ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.

  Prince Dmitri, son of Ivan! if the pomp

  Of this great Diet scare thee, or a sight

  So noble and majestic chain thy tongue,

  Thou may'st-for this the senate have allowed-

  Choose thee a proxy, wheresoe'er thou list,

  And do thy mission by another's lips.

  DEMETRIUS.

  My lord archbishop, I stand here to claim

  A kingdom, and the state of royalty.

  'Twould ill beseem me should I quake before

  A noble people, and its king and senate.

  I ne'er have viewed a circle so august,

  But the sight swells my heart within my breast

  And not appals me. The more worthy ye,

  To me ye are more welcome; I can ne'er

  Address my claim to nobler auditory.

  ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.

  . . . . The august republic

  Is favorably bent. . . . .

  DEMETRIUS.

  Most puissant king! Most worthy and most potent

  Bishops and palatines, and my good lords,

  The deputies of the august republic!

  It gives me pause and wonder to behold

  Myself, Czar Ivan's son, now stand before

  The Polish people in their Diet here.

  Both realms were sundered by a bloody hate,

  And, whilst my father lived, no peace might be.

  Yet now hath Heaven so ordered these events,

  That I, his blood, who with my nurse's milk

  Imbibed the ancestral hate, appear before you

  A fugitive, compelled to seek my rights

  Even here in Poland's heart. Then, ere I speak,

  Forget magnanimously all rancors past,

  And that the Czar, whose son I own myself,

  Rolled war's red billows to your very homes.

  I stand before you, sirs, a prince despoiled.

  I ask protection. The oppressed may urge

  A sacred claim on every noble breast.

  And who in all earth's circuit shall be just,

  If not a people great and valiant,-one

  In plenitude of power so free, it needs

  To render 'count but to itself alone,

  And may, unchallenged, lend an open ear

  And aiding hand to fair humanity.

  ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.

  You do allege you are Czar Ivan's son;

  And truly, nor your bearing nor your speech

  Gainsays the lofty title that you urge,

  But shows us that you are indeed his son.

  And you shall find that the republic bears

  A generous spirit. She has never quailed

  To Russia in the field! She loves, alike,

  To be a noble foe-a cordial friend.

  DEMETRIUS.

  Ivan Wasilowitch, the mighty Czar

  Of Moscow, took five spouses to his bed,

  In the long years that spared him to the throne.

  The first, a lady of the heroic line

  Of Romanoff, bare him Feodor, who reigned

  After his father's death. One only son,

  Dmitri, the last blossom of his strength,

  And a mere infant when his father died,

  Was born of Marfa, of Nagori's line.

  Czar Feodor, a youth, alike effeminate

  In mind and body, left the reins of power

  To his chief equerry, Boris Godunow,

  Who ruled his master with most crafty skill.

  Feodor was childless, and his barren bride

  Denied all prospect of an heir. Thus, when

  The wily Boiar, by his fawning arts,

  Had coiled himself into the people's favor,

  His wishes soared as high as to the throne.

  Between him and his haughty hopes there stood

  A youthful prince, the young Demetrius

  Iwanowitsch, who with his mother lived

  At Uglitsch, where her widowhood was passed.

 
Now, when his fatal purpose was matured,

  He sent to Uglitsch ruffians, charged to put

  The Czarowitsch to death.

  One night, when all was hushed, the castle's wing,

  Where the young prince, apart from all the rest,

  With his attendants lay, was found on fire.

  The raging flames ingulfed the pile; the prince

  Unseen, unheard, was spirited away,

  And all the world lamented him as dead.

  All Moscow knows these things to be the truth.

  ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.

  Yes, these are facts familiar to us all.

  The rumor ran abroad, both far and near,

  That Prince Demetrius perished in the flames

  When Uglitsch was destroyed. And, as his death

  Raised to the throne the Czar who fills it now,

  Fame did not hesitate to charge on him

  This murder foul and pitiless. But yet,

  His death is not the business now in hand!

  This prince is living still! He lives in you!

  So runs your plea. Now bring us to the proofs!

  Whereby do you attest that you are he?

  What are the signs by which you shall be known?

  How 'scaped you those were sent to hunt you down

  And now, when sixteen years are passed, and you

  Well nigh forgot, emerge to light once more?

  DEMETRIUS.

  'Tis scarce a year since I have known myself;

  I lived a secret to myself till then,

  Surmising naught of my imperial birth.

  I was a monk with monks, close pent within

  The cloister's precincts, when I first began

  To waken to a consciousness of self.

  My impetuous spirit chafed against the bars,

  And the high blood of princes began to course

  In strange unbidden moods along my veins.

  At length I flung the monkish cowl aside,

  And fled to Poland, where the noble Prince

  Of Sendomir, the generous, the good,

  Took me as guest into his princely house,

  And trained me up to noble deeds of arms.

  ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.

  How? You still ignorant of what you were?

  Yet ran the rumor then on every side,

  That Prince Demetrius was still alive.

  Czar Boris trembled on his throne, and sent

  His sassafs to the frontiers, to keep

  Sharp watch on every traveller that stirred.

  Had not the tale its origin with you?

  Did you not give the rumor birth yourself?

  Had you not named to any that you were

  Demetrius?

  DEMETRIUS.

  I relate that which I know.

  If a report went forth I was alive,

  Then had some god been busy with the fame.

  Myself I knew not. In the prince's house,

  And in the throng of his retainers lost,

  I spent the pleasant springtime of my youth.

  In silent homage

  My heart was vowed to his most lovely daughter.

  Yet in those days it never dreamed to raise

  Its wildest thoughts to happiness so high.

  My passion gave offence to her betrothed,

  The Castellan of Lemberg. He with taunts

  Chafed me, and in the blindness of his rage

  Forgot himself so wholly as to strike me.

  Thus savagely provoked, I drew my sword;

  He, blind with fury, rushed upon the blade,

  And perished there by my unwitting hand.

  MEISCHEK.

  Yes, it was even so.

  DEMETRIUS.

  Mine was the worst mischance! A nameless youth,

  A Russian and a stranger, I had slain

  A grandee of the empire-in the house

  Of my kind patron done a deed of blood,

  And sent to death his son-in-law and friend.

  My innocence availed not; not the pity

  Of all his household, nor his kindness-his,

  The noble Palatine's,-could save my life;

  For it was forfeit to the law, that is,

  Though lenient to the Poles, to strangers stern.

  Judgment was passed on me-that judgment death.

  I knelt upon the scaffold, by the block;

  To the fell headsman's sword I bared my throat,

  And in the act disclosed a cross of gold,

  Studded with precious gems, which had been hung

  About my neck at the baptismal font.

  This sacred pledge of Christian redemption

  I had, as is the custom of my people,

  Worn on my neck concealed, where'er I went,

  From my first hours of infancy; and now,

  When from sweet life I was compelled to part,

  I grasped it as my only stay, and pressed it

  With passionate devotion to my lips.

  [The Poles intimate their sympathy by dumb show.

  The jewel was observed; its sheen and worth

  Awakened curiosity and wonder.

  They set me free, and questioned me; yet still

  I could not call to memory a time

  I had not worn the jewel on my person.

  Now it so happened that three Boiars who

  Had fled from the resentment of their Czar

  Were on a visit to my lord at Sambor.

  They saw the trinket,-recognized it by

  Nine emeralds alternately inlaid

  With amethysts, to be the very cross

  Which Ivan Westislowsky at the font

  Hung on the neck of the Czar's youngest son.

  They scrutinized me closer, and were struck

  To find me marked with one of nature's freaks,

  For my right arm is shorter than my left.

  Now, being closely plied with questions, I

  Bethought me of a little psalter which

  I carried from the cloister when I fled.

  Within this book were certain words in Greek

  Inscribed there by the Igumen himself.

  What they imported was unknown to me,

  Being ignorant of the language. Well, the psalter

  Was sent for, brought, and the inscription read.

  It bore that Brother Wasili Philaret

  (Such was my cloister-name), who owned the book,

  Was Prince Demetrius, Ivan's youngest son,

  By Andrei, an honest Diak, saved

  By stealth in that red night of massacre.

  Proofs of the fact lay carefully preserved

  Within two convents, which were pointed out.

  On this the Boiars at my feet fell down,

  Won by the force of these resistless proofs,

  And hailed me as the offspring of their Czar.

  So from the yawning gulfs of black despair

  Fate raised me up to fortune's topmost heights.

  And now the mists cleared off, and all at once

  Memories on memories started into life

  In the remotest background of the past.

  And like some city's spires that gleam afar

  In golden sunshine when naught else is seen,

  So in my soul two images grew bright,

  The loftiest sun-peaks in the shadowy past.

  I saw myself escaping one dark night,

  And a red lurid flame light up the gloom

  Of midnight darkness as I looked behind me

  A memory 'twas of very earliest youth,

  For what preceded or came after it

  In the long distance utterly was lost.

  In solitary brightness there it stood

  A ghastly beacon-light on memory's waste.

  Yet I remembered how, in later years,

  One of my comrades called me, in his wrath

  Son of the Czar. I took it as a jest,

  And with a blow avenged it
at the time.

  All this now flashed like lightning on my soul,

  And told with dazzling certainty that I

  Was the Czar's son, so long reputed dead.

  With this one word the clouds that had perplexed

  My strange and troubled life were cleared away.

  Nor merely by these signs, for such deceive;

  But in my soul, in my proud, throbbing heart

  I felt within me coursed the blood of kings;

  And sooner will I drain it drop by drop

  Than bate one jot my title to the crown.

  ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.

  And shall we trust a scroll which might have found

  Its way by merest chance into your hands

  Backed by the tale of some poor renegades?

  Forgive me, noble youth! Your tone, I grant,

  And bearing, are not those of one who lies;

  Still you in this may be yourself deceived.

  Well may the heart be pardoned that beguiles

  Itself in playing for so high a stake.

  What hostage do you tender for your word?

  DEMETRIUS.

  I tender fifty, who will give their oaths,-

  All Piasts to a man, and free-born Poles

  Of spotless reputation,-each of whom

  Is ready to enforce what I have urged.

  There sits the noble Prince of Sendomir,

  And at his side the Castellan of Lublin;

  Let them declare if I have spoke the truth.

  ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.

  How seem these things to the august Estates?

  To the enforcement of such numerous proofs

  Doubt and mistrust, methinks, must needs give way.

  Long has a creeping rumor filled the world

  That Dmitri, Ivan's son, is still alive.

  The Czar himself confirms it by his fears.

  -Before us stands a youth, in age and mien