Demetrius (play) Read online

  With all towns, hamlets, and in-dwellers there,

  With all the rights and powers of sovereignty,

  In absolute possession evermore;

  And this, my gift, will I as Czar confirm

  In my free city, Moscow. Furthermore,

  As compensation to her noble sire

  For present charges, I engage to pay

  A million ducats, Polish currency.

  So help me God, and all his saints, as I

  Have truly sworn this oath, and shall fulfil it.

  KING.

  You will do so; you never will forget

  For what you are the noble Waywode's debtor;

  Who, for your wishes, perils his sure wealth,

  And, for your hopes, a child his heart adores,

  A friend so rare is to be rarely prized!

  Then when your hopes are crowned forget not ever

  The steps by which you mounted to the throne,

  Nor with your garments let your heart be changed!

  Think, that in Poland first you knew yourself,

  That this land gave you birth a second time.

  DEMETRIUS.

  I have been nurtured in adversity;

  And learned to reverence the beauteous bond

  Which links mankind with sympathies of love.

  KING.

  But now you enter on a realm where all-

  Use, custom, morals-are untried and strange,

  In Poland here reigns freedom absolute;

  The king himself, although in pomp supreme,

  Must ofttime be the serf of his noblesse;

  But there the father's sacred power prevails,

  And in the subject finds a passive slave.

  DEMETRIUS.

  That glorious freedom which surrounds me here

  I will transplant into my native land,

  And turn these bond-serfs into glad-souled men;

  Not o'er the souls of slaves will I bear rule.

  KING.

  Do naught in haste; but by the time be led!

  Prince, ere we part, three lessons take from me,

  And truly follow them when thou art king.

  It is a king that gives them, old and tried,

  And they may prove of profit to thy youth.

  DEMETRIUS.

  Oh, share thy wisdom with me! Thou hast won

  The reverence of a free and mighty people;

  What must I do to earn so fair a prize?

  KING.

  You come from a strange land,

  Borne on the weapons of a foreign foe;

  This first felt wrong thou hast to wash away.

  Then bear thee like a genuine son of Moscow,

  With reverence due to all her usages.

  Keep promise with the Poles, and value them,

  For thou hast need of friends on thy new throne:

  The arm that placed thee there can hurl thee down.

  Esteem them honorably, yet ape them not;

  Strange customs thrive not in a foreign soil.

  And, whatsoe'er thou dost, revere thy mother-

  You'll find a mother--

  DEMETRIUS.

  Oh, my liege!

  KING.

  High claim

  Hath she upon thy filial reverence.

  Do her all honor. 'Twixt thy subjects and

  Thyself she stands, a sacred, precious link.

  No human law o'errides the imperial power;

  Nothing but nature may command its awe;

  Nor can thy people own a surer pledge,

  That thou art gentle, than thy filial love.

  I say no more. Much yet is to be done,

  Ere thou mak'st booty of the golden fleece.

  Expect no easy victory!

  Czar Boris rules with strong and skilful hand;

  You take the field against no common man.

  He that by merit hath achieved the throne,

  Is not puffed from his seat by popular breath;

  His deeds do serve to him for ancestors.

  To your good fortune I commend you now;

  Already twice, as by a miracle,

  Hath it redeemed you from the grasp of death;

  'Twill put the finish on its work, and crown you.

  [Exeunt omnes but MARINA and ODOWALSKY.

  ODOWALSKY.

  Say, lady, how have I fulfilled my charge?

  Truly and well, and wilt thou laud my zeal?

  MARINA.

  'Tis, Odowalsky, well we are alone;

  Matters of weight have we to canvass which

  'Tis meet the prince know nothing of. May he

  Pursue the voice divine that goads him on!

  If in himself he have belief, the world

  Will catch the flame, and give him credence too.

  He must be kept in that vague, shadowing mist,

  Which is a fruitful mother of great deeds,

  While we see clear, and act in certainty.

  He lends the name-the inspiration; we

  Must bear the brain, the shaping thought, for him;

  And when, by art and craft, we have insured

  The needful levies, let him still dream on,

  And think they dropped, to aid him, from the clouds.

  ODOWALSKY.

  Give thy commands: I live but for thy service.

  Think'st thou this Moscovite or his affairs

  Concern my thoughts? 'Tis thou, thou and thy glory

  For which I will adventure life and all.

  For me no fortune blossoms; friendless, landless,

  I dare not let my hopes aspire to thee.

  Thy grace I may not win, but I'll deserve it.

  To make thee great be my one only aim;

  Then, though another should possess thee, still

  Thou wilt be mine-being what I have made thee.

  MARINA.

  Therefore my whole heart do I pledge to thee;

  To thee I trust the acting of my thoughts.

  The king doth mean us false. I read him through.

  'Twas a concerted farce with Sapieha,

  A juggle, all! 'Twould please him well, belike,

  To see my father's power, which he dreads deeply,

  Enfeebled in this enterprise-the league

  Of the noblesse, which shook his heart with fear,

  Drawn off in this campaign on foreign bounds,

  While he himself sits neutral in the fray.

  He thinks to share our fortune, if we win;

  And if we lose, he hopes with greater ease

  To fix on us the bondage of his yoke.

  We stand alone. This die is cast. If he

  Cares for himself, we shall be selfish too.

  You lead the troops to Kioff. There let them swear

  Allegiance to the prince, and unto me;-

  Mark you, to me! 'Tis needful for our ends.

  I want your eye, and not your arm alone.

  ODOWALSKY.

  Command me-speak-

  MARINA.

  You lead the Czarowitsch.

  Keep your eye on him; stir not from his side,

  Render me 'count of every step he makes.

  ODOWALSKY.

  Rely on me, he'll never cast us off.

  MARINA.

  No man is grateful. Once his throne is sure,

  He'll not be slow to cast our bonds aside.

  The Russian hates the Pole-must hate him ever;

  No bond of amity can link their hearts.

  Enter OPALINSKY, BIELSKY, and several Polish noblemen.

  OPALINSKY.

  Fair patron, get us gold, and we march with you,

  This lengthened Diet has consumed our all.

  Let us have gold, we'll make thee Russia's queen.

  MARINA.

  The Bishop of Kaminieck and Culm

  Lends money on the pawn of land and serfs.

  Sell, barter, pledge the hamlets of your boors,

  Turn all to silver, horses, m
eans of war!

  War is the best of chapmen. He transmutes

  Iron into gold. Whate'er you now may lose

  You'll find in Moscow twenty-fold again.

  BIELSKY.

  Two hundred more wait in the tavern yonder;

  If you will show yourself, and drain a cup

  With them, they're yours, all yours-I know them well.

  MARINA.

  Expect me! You shall introduce me to them.

  OPALINSKY.

  'Tis plain that you were born to be a queen.

  MARINA.

  I was, and therefore I must be a queen.

  BIELSKY.

  Ay, mount the snow-white steed, thine armor on,

  And so, a second Vanda, lead thy troops,

  Inspired by thee, to certain victory.

  MARINA.

  My spirit leads you. War is not for women.

  The rendezvous is in Kioff. Thither my father

  Will lead a levy of three thousand horse.

  My sister's husband gives two thousand more,

  And the Don sends a Cossack host in aid.

  Do you all swear you will be true to me?

  ALL.

  All, all-we swear! (draw their swords.)

  Vivat Marina, Russiae Regina!

  [MARINA tears her veil in pieces, and divides it among them.

  Exeunt omnes but MARINA.

  Enter MEISCHEK.

  MARINA.

  Wherefore so sad, when fortune smiles on us,

  When every step thrives to our utmost wish,

  And all around are arming in our cause?

  MEISCHEK.

  'Tis even because of this, my child! All, all

  Is staked upon the cast. Thy father's means

  Are in these warlike preparations swamped.

  I have much cause to ponder seriously;

  Fortune is false, uncertain the result.

  Mad, venturous girl, what hast thou brought me to?

  What a weak father have I been, that I

  Did not withstand thy importunities!

  I am the richest Waywode of the empire,

  The next in honor to the king. Had we

  But been content to be so, and enjoyed

  Our stately fortunes with a tranquil soul!

  Thy hopes soared higher-not for thee sufficed

  The moderate station which thy sisters won.

  Thou wouldst attain the loftiest mark that can

  By mortals be achieved, and wear a crown.

  I, thy fond, foolish father, longed to heap

  On thee, my darling one, all glorious gains,

  So by thy prayers I let myself be fooled,

  And peril my sure fortunes on a chance.

  MARINA.

  How? My dear father, dost thou rue thy goodness?

  Who with the meaner prize can live content,

  When o'er his head the noblest courts his grasp?

  MEISCHEK.

  Thy sisters wear no crowns, yet they are happy.

  MARINA.

  What happiness is that to leave the home

  Of the Waywode, my father, for the house

  Of some count palatine, a grateful bride?

  What do I gain of new from such a change?

  And can I joy in looking to the morrow

  When it brings naught but what was stale to-day?

  Oh, tasteless round of petty, worn pursuits!

  Oh, wearisome monotony of life!

  Are they a guerdon for high hopes, high aims?

  Or love or greatness I must have: all else

  Are unto me alike indifferent.

  Smooth off the trouble from thy brow, dear father!

  Let's trust the stream that bears us on its breast,

  Think not upon the sacrifice thou makest,

  Think on the prize, the goal that's to be won-

  When thou shalt see thy daughter robed in state,

  In regal state, aloft on Moscow's throne,

  And thy son's sons the rulers of the world!

  MEISCHEK.

  I think of naught, see naught, but thee, my child,

  Girt with the splendors of the imperial crown.

  Thou'rt bent to have it; I cannot gainsay thee.

  MARINA.

  Yet one request, my dearest, best of fathers,

  I pray you grant me!

  MEISCHEK.

  Name thy wish, my child.

  MARINA.

  Shall I remain shut up at Sambor with

  The fires of boundless longing in my breast?

  Beyond the Dnieper will my die be cast,

  While boundless space divides me from the spot;

  Can I endure it? Oh, the impatient spirit

  Will lie upon the rack of expectation

  And measure out this monstrous length of space

  With groans and anxious throbbings of the heart.

  MEISCHEK.

  What dost thou wish? What is it thou wouldst have?

  MARINA.

  Let me abide the issue in Kioff!

  There I can gather tidings at their source.

  There on the frontier of both kingdoms--

  MEISCHEK.

  Thy spirit's over-bold. Restrain it, child!

  MARINA.

  Yes, thou dost yield,-thou'lt take me with thee, then?

  MEISCHEK.

  Thou rulest me. Must I not do thy will?

  MARINA.

  My own dear father, when I am Moscow's queen

  Kioff, you know, must be our boundary.

  Kioff must then be mine, and thou shalt rule it.

  MEISCHEK.

  Thou dreamest, girl! Already the great Moscow

  Is for thy soul too narrow; thou, to grasp

  Domains, wilt strip them from thy native land.

  MARINA.

  Kioff belonged not to our native land;

  There the Varegers ruled in days of yore.

  I have the ancient chronicles by heart;

  'Twas from the Russian empire wrenched by force.

  I will restore it to its former crown.

  MEISCHEK.

  Hush, hush! The Waywode must not hear such talk.

  [Trumpet without. They're breaking up.

  ACT II.

  SCENE I.

  A Greek convent in a bleak district near the sea Belozero.

  A train of nuns, in black robes and veils, passes over the

  back of the stage. MARFA, in a white veil, stands apart

  from the others, leaning on a tombstone. OLGA steps out

  from the train, remains gazing at her for a time, and then

  advances to her.

  OLGA.

  And does thy heart not urge thee forth with us

  To taste reviving nature's opening sweets?

  The glad sun comes, the long, long night retires,

  The ice melts in the streams, and soon the sledge

  Will to the boat give place and summer swallow.

  The world awakes once more, and the new joy

  Woos all to leave their narrow cloister cells

  For the bright air and freshening breath of spring.

  And wilt thou only, sunk in lasting grief,

  Refuse to share the general exultation?

  MARFA.

  On with the rest, and leave me to myself!

  Let those rejoice who still have power to hope.

  The time that puts fresh youth in all the world

  Brings naught to me; to me the past is all,

  My hopes, my joys are with the things that were.

  OLGA.

  Dost thou still mourn thy son-still, still lament

  The sovereignty which thou has lost? Does time,

  Which pours a balm on every wounded heart,

  Lose all its potency with thee alone?

  Thou wert the empress of this mighty realm,

  The mother of a blooming son. He was

  Snatched from thee by a dreadful destiny;

  Into this drea
ry convent wert thou thrust,

  Here on the verge of habitable earth.

  Full sixteen times since that disastrous day

  The face of nature hath renewed its youth;

  Still have I seen no change come over thine,

  That looked a grave amid a blooming world.

  Thou'rt like some moonless image, carved in stone

  By sculptor's chisel, that doth ever keep

  The selfsame fixed unalterable mien.

  MARFA.

  Yes, time, fell time, hath signed and set me up

  As a memorial of my dreadful fate.

  I will not be at peace, will not forget.

  That soul must be of poor and shallow stamp

  Which takes a cure from time-a recompense

  For what can never be compensated!

  Nothing shall buy my sorrow from me. No,

  As heaven's vault still goes with the wanderer,

  Girds and environs him with boundless grasp,

  Turn where he will, by sea or land, so goes

  My anguish with me, wheresoe'er I turn;

  It hems me round, like an unbounded sea;

  My ceaseless tears have failed to drain its depths.

  OLGA.

  Oh, see! what news can yonder boy have brought,

  The sisters round him throng so eagerly?

  He comes from distant shores, where homes abound,

  And brings us tidings from the land of men.