University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

A Colonade of the Palace.
Amgar, Theoroff. Trumpets sound.
THEOROFF.
The hour at length is come; the all-conquering Czar
Returns in triumph to the throne of Moscow;
Let thronging crowds all hail the laurel'd hero,
And nought be heard but minstrelsy and joy!

AMGAR.
The hour indeed is come; the cruel Czar
Has given unjustly chains to Ottokesa,
Has spread a gloom through all his thoughtful subjects,
Who in his triumphs feel their helpless state.

THEOROFF.
The Queen, by dark conspiracy has form'd
The dangers that surround her;—her lov'd son,
By Artamon accus'd of rank rebellion,
Submits to own the justice of his doom.

AMGAR.
The criminal, whose flesh is harrow'd up,
Will oft acknowledge treasons not his own;
By Artamon condemn'd, there's no appeal;
His frown is censure, accusation, fate.
What could a youth oppose to settled wiles?
What could he urge against a father's act
To bar him from succession?—to sign that act
Is all the treason that Alexis knows.

THEOROFF.
The Czar will well approve himself a parent;
E'en to the wildest Russian nature gives
A fondness for its young,—a tender care
To shelter and protect it;—shall then a mind,
Tutor'd in all the arts of polish'd life,
Feel less than a barbarian?

AMGAR.
The Czar is cruel,
And though he rules a world with awful sway
He cannot rule himself.

THEOROFF.
But sure the Queen
Hath yielded up to others those rich charms
The Czar so highly priz'd?

AMGAR.
Oh! never, never;
She is as chaste as are our mountain snows
Ere tasted by the sun;—December's ice
Would sooner yield to any soft impression
Than she to guilty love.

THEOROFF.
But for what end
Should Artamon destroy the fame of her
Who never wrong'd him?

AMGAR.
To rise upon her ruin;
To make a Swedish dame our Empress now,
Who will reward him largely with the spoils
Of an ill-gotten throne.

Theoroff.
Perhaps you wrong her!
Could she refuse?—She knows not Ottokesa.
If she believes the son and mother guilty,
Nor is herself the cause of their disgrace,
Where is her fault?

AMGAR.
Her charms become her fault,
Through them the monarch makes the crimes he wishes;
But here I pause,—and hope that she'll approve
Her innocence and worth;—if she's deceiv'd—
And I'll take care she shall be soon inform'd,
That every species of the vilest arts
Have been employ'd to raise her to a throne;
Let Artamon beware declining favour!
Time yet may bring to light his dark designs,
And pull down ruin on the head that form'd them.

THEOROFF.
But hark!—more trumpets sound! I'll hope the best,
And meet the general joy.

Amgar.
And I meanwhile
Will from the public take my devious track,
And mourn for Ottokesa.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The Czar on the Throne.
Artamon, Desna, Boyars, Guards, Attendants.
ARTAMON.
Hail mighty Prince of this extended empire,
Whose fame is spread o'er the admiring world,
Let conquest wait thy will,—
Till farthest India, till remotest climes,
Partake the harvest of all bounteous sway,
And the sun set not on your firm dominion!

CZAR.
Yes, I must own ambition fires my soul;
The bright reward lights onward to my wishes,
To banquet nobly on my people's welfare.

DESNA.
Your grateful subjects, with o'erflowing hearts,
Can only pour the tribute of their thanks,—
Entreat the Heavens in one rich shower of blessings,
To make them worthy of their sovereign's love!

CZAR.
Enough of this; for other cares engage us;—
What have you heard from England?—that proud people
May feel perhaps the force of our resentment.

1ST BOYAR.
Ambassadors from England are arriv'd,
To greet your Majesty from Royal Anne.

CZAR.
'Tis well they are, for 'tis of moment to them.—
Know then, my faithful subjects, We, your Sov'reign,
Have been ill-treated,
E'en in the person of our great Ambassador;
By some mistake—I think they call it there,
This dread vice-gerent, this our other self,
Has been imprison'd.

2D BOYAR.
How, mighty Czar, imprison'd!

CZAR.
“Imprison'd,”—such an act, that Majesty
Must blush but to announce it;—particulars
Have yet scarce reach'd our ears; but know, my friends,
Our lofty mind ill-brooks such studied insult.

1ST BOYAR.
See the Ambassadors.

Enter the Ambassadors.
CZAR.
Well, my Masters,
Say, are you come to threaten us with war?
To lay our towers and palaces in dust?
Or more to gratify your stubborn hearts,
Would you again behold our second-self
Imprison'd, and in chains?

AMBASSADOR.
Letters, dread Sir,
We bring from Royal Anne, our gracious mistress,
Who bids us, with all due respect, present
Her kindest wishes to the Emperor.

CZAR.
Wishes, ill-timed, are but repeated insults;
Deep-sunk resentment fills our clouded brow.
Say—have her officers as yet receiv'd
The deaths they merited?—such stern order
Admitted no delay.

AMBASSADOR.
'Tis not her's to give,—
She, mighty Sir, is not despotic there;
Her Monarch is the Law.

CZAR.
Law!—Law is our Will;
If the supreme has not a right to enforce
The principles he forms,—where is his power?
Is he not merely then a splendid gem,
Set for a crowd to gaze at?

AMBASSADOR.
'Tis your's to guard
That bulwark you have rais'd;—our gracious Queen
Receives her crown in trust, and tho' supreme,
Makes but a part, tho' most important part,
In our time-temper'd, free-born Constitution.

(Czar reads the Letter.)
She mentions here “Imprisonment for debt;”
Were not the fame and glory of our State
Pledges of weightiest trust?

AMBASSADOR.
All she could do
She has complied with,—gain'd a ready Act,
That no Ambassador from any Court
Shall for the future, whatsoe'er his fault,
Meet the like insult.—Weigh, then, dread Sir,
The important reasons, that the Queen enforces,
And once again with cordial love receive
The friendship that she offers.

CZAR.
'Tis somewhat strange,
But I remember, when in a former reign
I view'd your shipping and admir'd your arts,
I wonder'd at your State, where I perceiv'd
Your Heav'n-directed King, in making laws,
Held conference with his people.

AMBASSADOR.
And then he ruled
Full Sovereign in their hearts.—'Tis Britain's boast,
No power despotic can destroy the work
Her generous sons have wrought;—the people there
Must join to crush the fabric that was rais'd
By their renown'd forefathers.—Sacred trust!
Their warlike force is clad in “righteous” armour;
Their laws are founded on the rock of justice;
Their throne and altars bid the world defiance;
Britain—by Britain only can be conquer'd.

CZAR.
Your language is too bold;—howe'er, in pity,
I will not pass my sentence on your laws;
In pity to your Queen I'll meet her embassy
With all free kindness, and return an answer
That may renew all former ties.—Meanwhile
We give you friendly welcome.
[Exit Ambas.
And now, my honor'd partners of the war,
Thrice happy in the conquests ye have gain'd,
Since by these means ye look to future times
For blessings on your offspring,—sure to them
As glorious to yourselves;—but hear your Monarch,—
Tho' stubborn Charles has yielded to our arms,
Tho' to the lost Augustus we restore
The throne of Poland;—tho' laurel'd victory
Smiles on our every step;—yet, know, my friends,
I feel domestic war;—my once-lov'd Queen
Has prov'd herself most base,—my darling son
Become a traitor, and a war within—
A war that preys upon our vitals—threatens
The life-blood of our crown.

ARTAMON.
Whilst order rises,
And arts and science flourish through the land;
Whilst commerce here unfurls her freighted sails,
And every treasure monarchs can bestow
Is shower'd in blessings on us—shall the Czar—
Shall the great founder of this mighty empire,
Be troubled with a brawl?—shall not the wretch,
The abettor of adultery, war, and treason,
Be crush'd at once?—I'll speak more openly—
The wily Fedrowitz, whose trait'rous arts
Would curse this happy realm with civil broil,
Instead of owning the attested crimes
Of his insidious race, shows now his zeal
In rescuing from banishment your son—

CZAR.
“Rescuing from banishment!”—you're misinform'd;
Our Guards dare not betray us.

ARTAMON.
'Tis too true;
Nay more, I've learnt that, in disguise, the Prince
Departed but ere now from Ottokesa.

CZAR.
Nay, if rebellion lurks so very near,
We'll crush it in the bud.

ARTAMON.
No time to lose;
If what I've heard be true;—Boyars of note
Are deep in the revolt.

CZAR.
To thy care then,
My faithful Artamon, I give the charge;
Summon my troops as you shall see occasion,
And tread down insurrection,—for through the cloud
A dawn of light breaks in, and I must hail
The glories of its rising.
[Exit Artamon.
(Noise without.)
The Queen! the Queen!

CZAR.
Richer than all my gains, I now present
The pride, the trophy of the war;—such a prize!
Excelling fair!—form'd by the cunning'st hand
Of pregnant fancy; upon her youthful brow
Sits Majesty enshrin'd as on its native throne;
To outward form she superadds a mind,
Deck'd with the stores of her own softer sex,
And manly strength of our's.

1ST BOYAR.
See her approach.

Enter Catharine, attended, the Czar introducing her.
DESNA.
Wonder indeed!—there all perfections meet,
As in a sacred synod! (to the Boyars).
—Oh! may you live (to the Queen)
,
To bless the Czar, renew domestic joy,
And flourish in the sunshine of his favour!

CATHARINE.
With fancied trophies my dread Sovereign decks
“Her he delights to honour.”—All my merit
Is to confess myself unworthy;—when I view
The lofty summit of Imperial State
I tremble at the height; but know, my people,
However high your Monarch deigns to grace me,
Next to my Czar's, I'll court his subjects' love.

CZAR.
I dare be sworn thou wilt;—thy love repays
All the unkindness I've before receiv'd,
Cares ill-return'd, and violated vows.

CATHARINE.
In love, great Prince, you triumph as in war,
And conquer but to bless,—others make slaves,
And read their safety in a nation's fears,
But you gain willing empire o'er the mind.

CZAR.
Aye, should I not?—it is the sovereign's bliss;
For where the heart accords not with the tongue,
A people's homage is the worst of treasons.

CATHARINE.
Your power, supported with an equal justice,
Has cull'd the flowery garden of the world,
And thence has drawn, whate'er Italia's shores
Have breath'd of softer elegance; what polish'd France
Has taught in manners, and in maxims wise;
Or what fair England's still more favour'd clime,
Storehouse of genius, learning's best resort,
In deep-read science, and improving arts,
Has held in admiration,—
All—all yourself has caught, and Russia now
Bids fair to emulate their general fame.

1ST BOYAR.
From this bright hour may Heav'n propitious smile,
And shed its kindliest blessings on the head
Of this most favour'd Queen, and may she crown,
With joy's increase our Monarch's future days.

CATHARINE.
Oh! be those pray'rs prophetic! may I add
Or peace or comfort to my Sovereign's life,
'Tis all I ask;—
Empire compar'd with that appears a toy,
And vanishes before me;—should I forget
The gratitude I owe, you'll then proclaim,
That fortune's gifts o'erturn the female brain,
And I'm no more myself.

CZAR.
Enough, Enough,—
And now receive her as your future Queen;
And know, in honour of this glorious day,
In honour of the Fair, we shall create
An Order call'd St. Catharine's;—'tis for Merit,
And giv'n to Merit only,—not bestow'd
By partial favour on the half-deserving,
Without inquiry after real worth;
'Tis for Pre-eminence;—who unwisely give
Create a winter of desert around them;
Neglect is then the honour;—but this shall be
For kings to emulate;—'tis richly dyed
With glory's tints, by every virtue won.
But now retire, my friends;—fatigues to-day
Demand our rest;—to-morrow we proclaim
The Order of her Royal Coronation.

DESNA.
And from your loves may still new glories spring
To guard the State you've rais'd.

CZAR.
Aye there, my friend,
Thou pray'st aright,
That never Sovereign may hereafter rise,
To mar the wond'rous fabrick;—
'Tis built for ages, and I trust will last
Till empires cease; till the sun's weary train
Shall loiter in their courses;—the time may come
Some abler hand shall take the extended reins,
And keep the wheels in motion,—nurture the arts,
Protect our commerce with unrival'd sway,
Make this the envied seat of every grace,
And kindred soil of honour;—and may that pow'r,
Form'd to protect and shield this envied State,
Be ever honour'd with my people's care,
A future Catharine born to bless the world.