Dimitry, whom the Heavenly Tsar hath taken Into His angel band, and I am now A mighty wonder-worker. Go, old man.’ I woke, and pondered. What is this? Maybe God will in very deed vouchsafe to me Belated healing. I will go. I bent My footsteps to the distant road. I reached Uglich, repair unto the holy minster, Hear mass, and, glowing with zealous soul, I weep Sweetly, as if the blindness from mine eyes Were flowing out in tears. And when the people Began to leave, to my grandson I said: `Lead me, Ivan, to the grave of the tsarevich Dimitry .’ The boy led me—and I scarce Had shaped before the grave a silent prayer, When sight illumed my eyeballs; I beheld The light of God, my grandson, and the tomb.” That is the tale, Sire, which the old man told.
(General agitation. In the course of this speech Boris several times wipes his face with his handkerchief.)
To Uglich then I sent, where it was learned That many sufferers had found likewise Deliverance at the grave of the tsarevich. This is my counsel; to the Kremlin send The sacred relics, place them in the Cathedral Of the Archangel; clearly will the people See then the godless villain’s fraud; the might Of the fiends will vanish as a cloud of dust.
(Silence.)
PRINCE SHUISKY. What mortal, holy father, knoweth the ways Of the All-Highest? ‘Tis not for me to judge Him. Untainted sleep and power of wonder-working He may upon the child’s remains bestow; But vulgar rumour must dispassionately And diligently be tested; is it for us, In stormy times of insurrection, To weigh so great a matter? Will men not say That insolently we made of sacred things A worldly instrument? Even now the people Sway senselessly this way and that, even now There are enough already of loud rumours; This is no time to vex the people’s minds With aught so unexpected, grave, and strange. I myself see ‘tis needful to demolish The rumour spread abroad by the unfrocked monk; But for this end other and simpler means Will serve. Therefore, when it shall please thee, Sire, I will myself appear in public places, I will persuade, exhort away this madness, And will expose the vagabond’s vile fraud.
TSAR. So be it! My lord Patriarch, I pray thee Go with us to the palace, where today I must converse with thee.
(Exeunt; all the boyars follow them.)
1ST BOYAR. (Sotto voce to another.) Didst mark how pale Our sovereign turned, how from his face there poured A mighty sweat?
2ND BOYAR. I durst not, I confess, Uplift mine eyes, nor breathe, nor even stir.
1ST BOYAR. Prince Shuisky has pulled it through. A splendid fellow!
A PLAIN NEAR NOVGOROD SEVERSK
(DECEMBER 21st, 1604)
A BATTLE
SOLDIERS. (Run in disorder.) Woe, woe! The Tsarevich! The Poles! There they are! There they are!
(Captains enter: MARZHERET and WALTHER ROZEN.)
MARZHERET. Whither, whither? Allons! Go back!
ONE OF THE FUGITIVES. You go back, if you like, cursed infidel.
MARZHERET. Quoi, quoi?
ANOTHER. Kva! kva! You like, you frog from over the sea, to croak at the Russian tsarevich; but we—we are orthodox.
MARZHERET. Qu’est-ce a dire “orthodox”? Sacres gueux, maudite canaille! Mordieu, mein Herr, j’enrage; on dirait que ca n’a pas de bras pour frapper, ca n’a que des jambes pour fuir.
ROZEN. Es ist Schande.
MARZHERET. Ventre-saint gris! Je ne bouge plus d’un pas; puisque le vin est tire, il faut le boire. Qu’en dites-vous, mein Herr?
ROZEN. Sie haben Recht.
MARZHERET. Tudieu, il y fait chaud! Ce diable de “Pretender,” comme ils l’appellent, est un bougre, qui a du poil au col?—Qu’en pensez-vous, mein Herr?
ROZEN. Ja.
MARZHERET. He! Voyez donc, voyez donc! L’action s’engage sur les derrieres de l’ennemi. Ce doit etre le brave Basmanov, qui aurait fait une sortie.
ROZEN. Ich glaube das.
(Enter Germans.)
MARZHERET. Ha, ha! Voici nos allemands. Messieurs! Mein Herr, dites-leur donc de se raillier et, sacrebleu, chargeons!
ROZEN. Sehr gut. Halt! (The Germans halt.) Marsch!
THE GERMANS. (They march.) Hilf Gott!
(Fight. The Russians flee again.)
POLES. Victory! Victory! Glory to the tsar Dimitry!
DIMITRY. (On horseback.) Cease fighting. We have conquered. Enough! Spare Russian blood. Cease fighting.
OPEN SPACE IN FRONT OF THE CATHEDRAL IN MOSCOW
THE PEOPLE
ONE OF THE PEOPLE. Will the tsar soon come out of the Cathedral?
ANOTHER. The mass is ended; now the Te Deum is going on.
THE FIRST. What! Have they already cursed him?
THE SECOND. I stood in the porch and heard how the deacon cried out:—Grishka Otrepiev is anathema!
THE FIRST. Let him curse to his heart’s content; the tsarevich has nothing to do with the Otrepiev.
THE SECOND. But they are now singing mass for the repose of the soul of the tsarevich.
THE FIRST. What? A mass for the dead sung for a living Man? They’ll suffer for it, the godless wretches!
A THIRD. Hist! A sound. Is it not the tsar?
A FOURTH. No, it is the idiot.
(An idiot enters, in an iron cap, hung round with chains, surrounded by boys.)
THE BOYS. Nick, Nick, iron nightcap! T-r-r-r-r—
OLD WOMAN. Let him be, you young devils. Innocent one, pray thou for me a sinner.
IDIOT. Give, give, give a penny.
OLD WOMAN. There is a penny for thee; remember me in thy prayers.
IDIOT. (Seats himself on the ground and sings:)
The moon sails on, The kitten cries, Nick, arise, Pray to God.
(The boys surround him again.)
ONE OF THEM. How do you do, Nick? Why don’t you take off your cap?
(Raps him on the iron cap.)
How it rings!
IDIOT. But I have got a penny.
BOYS. That’s not true; now, show it.
(They snatch the penny and run away.)
IDIOT. (Weeps.) They have taken my penny, they are hurting Nick.
THE PEOPLE. The tsar, the tsar is coming!
(The TSAR comes out from the Cathedral; a boyar in front of him scatters alms among the poor. Boyars.)
IDIOT. Boris, Boris! The boys are hurting Nick.
TSAR. Give him alms! What is he crying for?
IDIOT. The boys are hurting me…Give orders to slay them, as thou slewest the little tsarevich.
BOYARS. Go away, fool! Seize the fool!
TSAR. Leave him alone. Pray thou for me, Nick.
(Exit.)
IDIOT. (To himself.) No, no! It is impossible to pray for tsar Herod; the Mother of God forbids it.
SYEVSK
