 | The False Demetrius |  |
ACT II.
Scene, a kind of Ante-Chapel within the Convent of Tchudoff.—A Monk is discovered in attendance.Demetrius enters.
Dem.
Well! has your dowager Czarina had
her sufficit of masses, and gone home?
Monk.
Not yet; she is coming forth from
chapel.
Dem.
And will she pass this way?
Monk.
I am waiting for her, as in duty
bound.
Dem.
'Tis well: 'tis very well. I'll keep
watch with you. Ah! she's a right-good lady,
(is she not?) to have so very motherly a concern
for a dead son? If he were living now, and in
the purgatory of this wicked world, how many
masses, think you, wou'd it take to set him free,
and put him fairly in the way of fortune?
Monk.
How shou'd I answer that, seeing that
purgatory is not for the living, but for the dead?
Dem.
Nay, learned Sir, but you have answered
it with most discreet and orthodox precision:
yet, under favour, can you not conceive there
are as many purgatories on this side death, as
there are duns, debts, persecutions, imprisonments,
vexations, tiresome talkers, long-winded
homilies, and old decrepid tantalizing misers,
that stand upon the threshold of their graves,
and won't step into them?
Monk.
To none of all these cases can I speak—
but see! Maria Feodorafna comes—
Mar.
Where'er I pass, the vision is before me;
And lo! again I meet him—Speak, declare!
Who art thou, that in likeness of the dead,
Spite of thy habit, draw'st my eyes upon thee
In contemplation of an awful mark,
A token so particular, as in none,
Save one dear object, ever met my sight.
Dem.
Illustrious lady, when your face was veil'd,
I knew you not; and after my plain way,
Unconscious of your dignity, addressed you
In terms, that merited your just rebuke:
But as the things, of which I have to speak,
Are such as can in no wise entertain
These holy sisters, though to you and me
Of high concernment, I must urge my suit
To speak in private with you.
Mar.
Be it so!
Sisters, I pray you to withdraw at once:
Let ceremonies be dispens'd with, I conjure you.
[The Nuns withdraw.
There! They are gone. What is it that controls me?
What power so absolute enwheels you round,
That as your countenance enchains my eyes,
So does your voice my ears! Oh! it comes o'er me,
As I had heard it somewhere in time past,
Or listen'd to it in my dreams perhaps
With motherly delight.
Dem.
You have, you have;
Bear witness for me, Nature, you have heard it,
For 'tis Demetrius, 'tis your son that speaks,
Your long-lost living son.
Support me, save me!
[She leans on his shoulder.
Be still, and give my whirling brain a pause
For recollection—Can Demetrius live?
Cou'd their fell daggers miss the heart they struck at?
Ah, no—deceive me not. It cannot be.
Heav'n on its beauteous model stamp'd a star,
A mark, celestial, never to be forg'd;
Such as no mortal face—'Tis there, 'tis there!
I see it—'Tis the evidence of sight,
The seal of fate, the signature of truth.
By whatsoever miracle restored,
Come to my heart!—Thou art my long-lost son.
Dem.
I am your son: your prayers were not mispent,
They're only gone before me. Snatcht from death,
I've been a wanderer, seeking up and down
Precarious shelter under various names
In various countries—but of this hereafter—
The story of my pilgrimage is long,
And asks more leisure; for the time is come,
When I must cast this priestly frock away,
And self-elect as Autocrat assume
The royal mantle, which of right is mine;
And never will I put it off, till death
Shall tear it from me, in my life-blood drench'd.
Mar.
Ah, my too brave, too venturous son, beware!
This odious Czar is watchful and alert;
His eye is every where; he is all ear,
And his arm reaches to the utmost bounds
Of his extensive empire.
Dem.
Fear him not!
A stronger arm hath reach'd him: he is dead.
Mar.
Amazement! dead?—
Be not amaz'd. 'Tis so,
Though news, that circulates through all the world,
Cannot pervade the crannies of your cloister.
Therefore it was I never risk'd a line,
Knowing none such wou'd be allow'd to reach you.
And now it grieves me much, that for a time
You must return to count the lonely hours,
Till the first sun, that rises on my hopes,
Shall with its beams dispel our convent's gloom,
And give you glorious to the world again.
[Leads her out, and the scene closes.
A room in the house of Peter Bassovitz
Peter alone.
Pet.
I begin to think it is high time to take
care of myself. My old crony, Michael Merowitz,
has too many crotchets in his head, and
I believe I must forego the pleasure of his
society; for the owl that makes one upon a
water-party with the gander, shall scarcely
escape drowning. Yet Michael is a fellow of
such companionable pleasantry, that if the
gallows did not stand in the back ground of his
prospect, I wou'd be content to go on with him
to my life's end—but that is one way of ending
life I had rather be excused from.
Michael enters.
Mic.
This day a monk, and the next day a
monarch—
Pet.
What's that you are talking about?
Ah! who are you?—A speck under your
right eye?—No, you have specks in both eyes:
you are not the man—Ten thousand Tartars, they
will do the job—Cymbals, and clarinets, and
screaming fifes—How I long to see them come
thundering down into the great square!—
Pet.
How I long to see you go thundering
down into any square, street, or kennel, out of
this house!
Mic.
Then you will see me in my proper
glory; cutting and slashing like another
Yermac.
Pet.
Cut and slash any where but here—
There is the door; pray, make use of it.
Mic.
Don't be too familiar, Peter Bassovitz.
Less freedom, and more good manners, will
become you better. You don't know who you
are speaking to. You'll hear of me, you'll hear
of me, before the day is over.
Pet.
I dare say I shall. Your dying speech
and confession will be cried about the streets.
Mic.
Muzzle your wit, my master! When
Demetrius shall be proclaimed, you'll find yourself
on the wrong side.
Pet.
No; then I'll turn over to the right one.
Mic.
Aye, then you'll recollect him well
enough.
Pet,
Why, 'twou'd refresh my memory I confess,
if ever that shou'd come to pass. But don't
let me detain you. You may resume your meditations
in the open air: I'll wait upon you to the
door.
Mic.
I am charm'd with your politeness,
Thank you for your pleasant company, and hospitable
entertainment. When I have a house of
my own, you shall be quite as welcome to walk
out of it, as I am out of your's. Good bye to you!
[Exit Mic.
This is a case of difficulty on both sides;
yet, as I must take one side or the other, I have no
choice left but to choose the strongest. Certain
it is, I can trace the features of the boy in the
countenance of the man; and I can't deny the
mark upon his cheek, though I may puzzle the
question between right and left. He may, or he
may not, be Demetrius: let other people settle
that, my business is to take care of Peter Bassovitz.
[Exit.
Scene, a Chamber in the Palace.
Theodore and Irene.
Iren.
I own, dear brother, orphans as we are,
We may well mourn the loss of such a father,
But there shou'd be a measure in our sorrow.
Thy mind, sad prince, hath need of all the strength
That it can summon, to support the weight
Which this vast empire will devolve upon thee.
Theo.
I was not made to reign: I've no ambition.
My wishes being few are shortly told:
Give me a station humble as my thoughts,
And as my passions peaceful: let me live
Beyond the reach of faction, where no feuds
May ruffle my tranquillity, no fears
Disturb my solitude: little will serve
To satisfy my wants, and had I more
Than simple Nature needs, 'twou'd be to much.
Suiska enters.
Suis.
Health to our Sovereign Lord! Long live the Czar!
No, no, Suiski; Czars do not live long.
Is not my father dead?
Suis.
In you he lives.
Theo.
My father's spirit with my father died:
My humble nature cannot entertain it.
Suis.
O lost to glory! Yet, by right of office,
As Regent in the vacancy of empire,
I must of force proclaim you.
Theo.
If you must,
So let it be! My fate is in your hands,
And you must deal with me, a helpless creature,
As to your will seems meet.
[Exit.
Suis.
Oh ill-tim'd weakness,
Now when we have a rival to contend with,
A false Demetrius, formidably leagu'd
With the wild Cossacks, that embay our walls.
Iren.
Demetrius! Surely he was kill'd at Uglitz.
Who is this bold impostor?
Suis.
Time admits not
To tell you who he is, for instant means
Must be adopted to prevent his plot,
Or we are lost.
Iren.
Go, and success attend you!
[Exeunt severally.
Great Square of St. Michael, with a side view of the Cathedral, &c.
Michael Merowitz and Petrilla.
Mic.
Here we are, my gallant wench, here
we are in the square of Saint Michael, and there
is his church—I bow to it devoutly—We have
fobb'd old Peter, and are off. Lord love you!
how fond you must be; but no wonder—and
yet you don't know half my merit.
I don't know any. Let me hear it; I
dare say it is soon told.
Mic.
I have a most sweet and placid temper—
Petril.
So has a tyger.
Mic.
A delicate and most exquisite sensibility—
Petril.
So has this stone pavement.
Mic.
A large heart, and unbounded generosity—
Petril.
Those may be call'd your sleeping
virtues, having no means to waken them, as you
have nothing whatever to bestow.
Mic.
Wait till to-morrow; then tell me I have
nothing to bestow: wait only till Demetrius is
Czar, then tell me who will be the richest subject
in Moscovy. Mark me! This being Saint
Alexander Newski's day, I went to church and
said my prayers for luck; and there, as luck
wou'd have it, I fell asleep, which you know is
natural; and in my dream, what do you guess I
saw?
Petril.
A gibbet—that, I'm sure, is natural.
Mic.
No, you saucy rogue, a palace—a fine
house, richly furnished, given me by the Czar,
with servants, equipage, and all things needful
to set me up in a style—
Peter enters with Constables.
Pet.
Well met, friend Michael! So, I warrant
you are come to see the show—that's
right—and took my daughter with you—that's
kind—The girl is curious, that's the truth of it;
and 'twill be a fine sight.
Mic.
Aye, won't it? Who are these men with
you?
Pet.
I suppose he will only shew his mark,
and be crowned upon the spot—
Mic.
Very likely—but I say, Peter, who are
these rabscallions?
Pet.
And when that's over, you'll be a great
man—
Mic.
Shan't I?—I don't like the looks of
them: they seem to be listening.
Pet.
And I suppose you mean to take my
daughter under your protection—
Mic.
Undoubtedly—if I am not taken first
myself—
[Aside.
Pet.
That's friendly. Petrilla is a handsome
wench, and perhaps you have a liking for her—
Mic.
Oh, a very great liking for her—but
just now I shou'd like to be off—
[Aside.
Pet.
Lay hold of him, officers! I charge you
with him as a disturber of the peace, and a
traitor to the state.
[Music as of soldiers on the
march.]
Hark! what is coming now?
Mic.
Demetrius, Demetrius is coming! Hands
off, rascals! The Cossacks are upon you—Hah!
Suiska!—Confusion! I am lost.
Pet.
No; you are found—
Suiski enters with heralds and a guard of soldiers.
Justice, Lord General, justice on this traitor!
Suis.
Who calls for justice, and which is the
traitor?
Pet.
I am the honest man, who calls for
justice; and this the criminal, whom I accuse.
Suis.
What has he done?
Pet.
No one good action in his life, so please
you, but every thing that's wicked and most
vile.
Suis.
You must be more specific in your charge.
I will, Sir: he's a vagabond; he has
rambled into countries, where impudence is to
be had for nothing, and brought home such a
stock of it, that he has stolen my daughter, and
made off with her.
Petril.
I am here, noble Sir. I am not stolen;
therefore, that charge is void.
Suis.
As it should seem. Are you in your
right senses, friend?
Mic.
No, Sir, he's moon-struck; a poor crazy
creature; we only came, like other harmless
folks, to see the sight and hear the proclamation.
Pet.
Yes, and to bellow for the false Demetrius:
I denounce this rascal, Michael Merowitz
by name, to be his friend and crony, his fellow-traveller
and pot-companion, the stickler for his
party, and the mouth-piece of his mob.
Suis.
Knowing all this, perhaps you know the
man who calls himself Demetrius.
Pet.
Oh yes, I know him well.
Suis.
And you know him to be an impostor—
Pet.
Far be it from me to contradict your
Excellency at the head of your troops; I am
staunch for Theodore, and ready to declare,
that Demetrius, so called, is no better than an
impostor.
Suis.
Then you will have an opportunity of
declaring that to his face, for I hear him on his
march.—
[Bugle sounds.]
—Soldiers, stand fast!
make no show of resistance; the Cossacks will
out-number us, ten to one. We'll offer them a
parley, and hear what this pretender has to say.
Pet.
With your good leave, Lord General,
I'll run and call more help—
Suis.
Hold that prevaricating fellow fast.
Pet.
Besides, I recollect my wife lies dead.
I pray you, let me go and bury her.
Sirrah, we have your evidence. Stand
to it!
Pet.
What evidence? Good lack, I gave no
evidence, that I can call to mind.
Mic.
I'll help your memory, Peter! never
doubt me.
Donski and the Cossacks march in with Demetrius, (richly habited in the Polish dress,) at their head.
Suis.
Halt, gallant Cossacks, we are here assembled,
As friends of peace and order, to proclaim
A successor to the now vacant throne.
If then there is amongst you one, who holds
Priority of right before the son
Of Boris Godenoff, let him come forth,
And state his title!
Dons.
Lo! he stands before you—
The true Demetrius—We are satisfied:
We have proclaim'd him—What have you to say?
Suis.
Nothing to say against the true Demetrius,
But much good cause to doubt if he survive;
Over whose mangled body, gor'd with wounds,
Weeping I stood, and with these very eyes
Saw the last hope of Ruric's sacred line
Borne to the grave, a cold and lifeless corpse.
Dem.
You are Suiski; are you not?—
Suis.
I am.
Dem.
And you believe you saw Demetrius dead—
I am not careful to dispute the assertion
Of your belief; yet, if I gave you credit
For the sincerity, with which you wept
It was because you found you'd miss'd your aim,
And that the true Demetrius had escap'd you.
He had, Suiski—and the corpse you saw
Borne to the grave, did not possess one drop
Of Ruric's blood, whose sacred line survives
In me, now living to assert my right.
Dons.
And you shall have your right. Perish all those
Who dare to oppose it! Let our swords decide.
Dem.
Oh, not in blood, my friends, not in the blood
Of my dear subjects let me mount the throne.
My strength is in my cause, and whilst there's found
One, that denies my right, until I reign
Over all hearts, let me not reign at all.
And now, though many will be found to witness
That I am true Demetrius, you, Suiski,
The last of all men living to depose,
Through partial favour to my cause or me,
Shall be the first, to whom I will appeal.
Do you remember, when your Czarowitz
At Uglitz was install'd Knight of the Cross,
A certain medal, pendant to a chain
Of onyx, which you gave him?
Suis.
I do remember.
Dem.
Was it like this?
Suis.
The very same.
Dem.
'Tis well.
Once more I call your conscience to the test—
Manhood, 'tis granted, will efface the child;
But marks by nature stampt upon the frame
Are not rubb'd out by time. Had not Demetrius
A kind of sanguine star below his eye
On his right cheek?
Suis.
Demetrius had that mark.
Behold he has it still.
Suis.
I do confess it.
Dem.
There stands a man, that can depose to it
For twelve years past—Why do you keep him bound?
A witness shou'd be free.
Suis.
Loose him at once.
[They loose him.
Mic.
Thank you for nothing. Give me up my sword.
I'm glad your highness has had timely thought
Of your poor Michael. Have I seen that mark
For twelve years past? Yes, have I, and will swear it
Upon the holy book by every saint,
Saint Alexander Newski into the bargain.
Dons.
We are all satisfied. What need of more?
Dem.
Be patient, my good friends! Let me proceed—
This damsel will inform us what she heard
Her mother, Catherine Bassovitz, confess
Upon her death-bed—On your conscience speak!
Petril.
I heard my mother solemnly declare,
Her senses being perfect, you, the Prince,
Then standing in her sight, were true Demetrius,
The rescued Czarowitz, whom she had nurs'd.
Dem.
Where is your father? Let him now stand forth.
Petril.
Ah, royal Sir, he knows not what he says,
He's old and childish; his poor wits are wand'ring.
Pet.
So please you, Sir, I am, as she has told you,
An old man, almost in my second childhood,
And grief hath shook a memory never strong.
I know my dame vouched with her dying breath,
That you, dread sir, were the sweet babe she nurs'd,
And I don't doubt she spoke the very truth;
Nay, I am sure she did; but 'twas with me
A standing rule to cross my loving wife,
Though 'twere against my conscience, and I hope
You will not punish me with your displeasure
Only for contradicting an old woman.
Dons.
Prince, you descend too far. We are not here
To litigate your title, but elect you.
Dem.
Summon the council; cite me to the board;
Sift me with questions—Call my mother forth—
Maria Feodorafna—let her speak!
Who has a better right to know the son
Than she, who bore him? I appeal to her;
And by my sainted ancestor I swear,
If she does not acknowledge me her son,
Let all the world renounce me—Now, Suiski,
Does this content you?
Suis.
It is nobly offered:
I am content.
Dem.
Enough! I now promulgate
To all, however hostile to my cause,
Forgiveness and oblivion: To my friends
I pledge a heart, that never will forget
One single act of charity and kindness,
However slight, in my distress conferred.
But these are words: actions shall speak for me.
Now to the council—Gallant Cossacks, march!
“He comes, he comes, he comes!
“With echoing cymbals, and with rattling drums—.
“The Cossacks of the Don
“In triumph lead him on,
“The long-lost, living, true Demetrius comes.”
| The False Demetrius | |