Xenia. All powers of evil,—Demetrius, Clement, Hell,—will not efface you from my heart! O Heaven, remove the fury of the papal power, and with it Xenia’s unbearable distress, that Russia might raise its head, and I might be my sweetheart’s wife! Grant us to see the monarch on the throne, subject to truth, not arbitrary will! All truth has withered; the tyrant’s law is only what he wants; but on the happiness of their subjects are based the laws of righteous kings, for their immortal glory. God’s vicar is to be the Tsar. Strike me, destroy me, merciless Tsar! Megæra has swept you from Tartarus, the Caucasus has borne you, Hyrcania has nurtured you. The heretic, with his crowd of slaves, will, cursing, oust the bodies of saintly men from their graves. Their names will in Russia for ever perish, and the houses of God will in Moscow be deserted. Nation, tear the crown from the creator of dire torments; hasten, wrest the sceptre from the barbarian’s hands!
SCENE 7
Demetrius (alone). My crown lies not firmly upon my head, and the end of my greatness is at hand. Each moment I expect a sudden change. O Kremlin’s walls that frighten me! Meseems each hour you announce to me: “Villain, you are a foe, a foe to us and the whole land!” The citizens proclaim: “You have ruined us!” And the temples weep: “We are stained with blood!” The fair places about Moscow are deserted, and Hell from its abyss has oped its jaws at me; I see the sombre steps that lead to the infernal regions, and the tormented shades of Tartarus: I am already in Gehenna, and burn in the flame; I cast my glance to heaven, and see the celestial regions: there are good kings in all the beauty of their natures, and angels besprinkle them with dew of paradise; but what hope have I to-day in my despair? I shall be tormented in eternity even as I suffer now. I am not a crowned potentate in a magnificent city, but an evil malefactor, in hell tormented. I perish, dragging a multitude of the people to destruction. Flee, tyrant, flee! From whom?—From myself, for I see no one else before me. Run! But whither? Your hell is ever with you! The assassin is here, run! But I am that assassin! I tremble before myself, and before my shade. I shall avenge myself! On whom? Myself. Do I hate myself? I love myself! For what? I see it not. All cry against me: rapine, unfair justice, all terrible things,—they cry together against me. I live to the misfortune, shall die to the fortune of my nearest. The fate of men, the lowliest, I envy: even the mendicant is sometimes happy in his poverty. But I rule here,—and am always tormented. Endure and perish, having ascended the throne by deceit! Drive, and be driven! Live and die a tyrant!
INSTRUCTION TO A SON
Perceiving his tearful end near at hand, a father thus instructed his beloved, only begotten son:
“My son, beloved son! I am old to-day; my mind grows dull, my fervour is all gone; I am preparing to go before the Judge, and shall soon pass to eternity, the immeasurable abode of mortals. So I wish to tell you how you may live, and to show you the road to happiness. You will travel over a slippery path: though all in the world is vanity, yet why should one disdain happiness in life? Our whole mind ought to be bent upon obtaining it, and our endeavour should be to get all we need.
“Give up that chimera which men call honour; of what good is it when you have nothing to eat? It is impossible to get along in commerce without cheating, and in poverty without dishonesty and theft. By hook and by crook I have scraped together a fortune for you; now, if you should squander it all, I shall have sold my soul in vain. Whenever I think of that, my rest is gone.
“Increase your income, keep indolence from your heart, and keep your money against an evil day. Steal, if you can steal, but do it secretly,—by all means increase your income every year! The eye is not satisfied with mere looking on. If you can cheat, cheat artfully, for ’tis a shame to be caught in the act, and it often leads to the gallows. Make no acquaintances for the mere sake of knowing them, but put your spoon there where the jam is thickest! Revere the rich, to get your tribute from them. Never tire praising them with condescension; but if they be distinguished people, subdue them by creeping!
“Be humble with all men, and simulate! If a mighty person chides anyone, together with the mighty chide him! Praise those whom the powerful praise, and belittle those they belittle! Keep your eyes wide open and watch whom great boyárs are angry with.
“If you walk upon the straight road, you will find no fortune. Swim there where favourable winds carry you! Against men whom the people honour speak not a word; and let your soul be ever ready to thank them, though you receive nothing from them! Endeavour to speak like them. Whatever the puissant man says are sacred words; never contradict him, for you are a small man! If he say red of that which is black, say too: ‘’Tis rather red!’ Before low-born men rave like a devil; for if you do not, they will forget who you are, and will not respect you: the common people honour those who are haughty. But before the high-born leap like a frog, and remember that a farthing is as nothing in comparison with a rouble. Big souls have they, but we, my beloved son, have only little souls! Be profuse in thanks, if you expect some favour from your benefactor; spare your thanks where you have nothing to gain, for your grateful spirit will be lost.