Boris Godunov

MOSCOW. SHUISKY'S HOUSE

SHUISKY. A number of Guests. Supper

 
   SHUISKY. More wine! Now, my dear guests.
 

   (He rises; all rise after him.)

 
                         The final draught!
   Read the prayer, boy.
 
 
   Boy.                Lord of the heavens, Who art
   Eternally and everywhere, accept
   The prayer of us Thy servants. For our monarch,
   By Thee appointed, for our pious tsar,
   Of all good Christians autocrat, we pray.
   Preserve him in the palace, on the field
   Of battle, on his nightly couch; grant to him
   Victory o'er his foes; from sea to sea
   May he be glorified; may all his house
   Blossom with health, and may its precious branches
   O'ershadow all the earth; to us, his slaves,
   May he, as heretofore, be generous.
   Gracious, long-suffering, and may the founts
   Of his unfailing wisdom flow upon us;
   Raising the royal cup, Lord of the heavens,
   For this we pray.
 
 
   SHUISKY. (Drinks.) Long live our mighty sovereign!
   Farewell, dear guests. I thank you that ye scorned not
   My bread and salt. Farewell; good-night.
 

   (Exeunt Guests: he conducts them to the door.)

 
   PUSHKIN. Hardly could they tear themselves away; indeed,
   Prince Vassily Ivanovitch, I began to think that we
   should not succeed in getting any private talk.
 
 
   SHUISKY. (To the Servants.) You there, why do you stand
   Gaping? Always eavesdropping on gentlemen! Clear
   the table, and then be off.
 

   (Exeunt Servants.)

 
                             What is it, Athanasius
   Mikailovitch?
 
 
   PUSHKIN.    Such a wondrous thing!
   A message was sent here to me today
   From Cracow by my nephew Gabriel Pushkin.
 
 
   SHUISKY. Well?
 
 
   PUSHKIN. 'Tis strange news my nephew writes. The son
   Of the Terrible—But stay—
 

   (Goes to the door and examines it.)

 
                             The royal boy,
   Who murdered was by order of Boris—
 
 
   SHUISKY. But these are no new tidings.
 
 
   PUSHKIN.                        Wait a little;
   Dimitry lives.
 
 
   SHUISKY.     So that's it! News indeed!
   Dimitry living!—Really marvelous!
   And is that all?
 
 
   PUSHKIN.       Pray listen to the end;
   Whoe'er he be, whether he be Dimitry
   Rescued, or else some spirit in his shape,
   Some daring rogue, some insolent pretender,
   In any case Dimitry has appeared.
 
 
   SHUISKY. It cannot be.
 
 
   PUSHKIN.             Pushkin himself beheld him
   When first he reached the court, and through the ranks
   Of Lithuanian gentlemen went straight
   Into the secret chamber of the king.
 
 
   SHUISKY. What kind of man? Whence comes he?
 
 
   PUSHKIN.                             No one knows.
   'Tis known that he was Vishnevetsky's servant;
   That to a ghostly father on a bed
   Of sickness he disclosed himself; possessed
   Of this strange secret, his proud master nursed him,
   From his sick bed upraised him, and straightway
   Took him to Sigismund.
 
 
   SHUISKY.             And what say men
   Of this bold fellow?
 
 
   PUSHKIN.           'Tis said that he is wise,
   Affable, cunning, popular with all men.
   He has bewitched the fugitives from Moscow,
   The Catholic priests see eye to eye with him.
   The King caresses him, and, it is said,
   Has promised help.
 
 
   SHUISKY.         All this is such a medley
   That my head whirls. Brother, beyond all doubt
   This man is a pretender, but the danger
   Is, I confess, not slight. This is grave news!
   And if it reach the people, then there'll be
   A mighty tempest.
 
 
   PUSHKIN.        Such a storm that hardly
   Will Tsar Boris contrive to keep the crown
   Upon his clever head; and losing it
   Will get but his deserts! He governs us
   As did the tsar Ivan of evil memory.
   What profits it that public executions
   Have ceased, that we no longer sing in public
   Hymns to Christ Jesus on the field of blood;
   That we no more are burnt in public places,
   Or that the tsar no longer with his sceptre
   Rakes in the ashes? Is there any safety
   In our poor life? Each day disgrace awaits us;
   The dungeon or Siberia, cowl or fetters,
   And then in some deaf nook a starving death,
   Or else the halter. Where are the most renowned
   Of all our houses, where the Sitsky princes,
   Where are the Shestunovs, where the Romanovs,
   Hope of our fatherland? Imprisoned, tortured,
   In exile. Do but wait, and a like fate
   Will soon be thine. Think of it! Here at home,
   Just as in Lithuania, we're beset
   By treacherous slaves—and tongues are ever ready
   For base betrayal, thieves bribed by the State.
   We hang upon the word of the first servant
   Whom we may please to punish. Then he bethought him
   To take from us our privilege of hiring
   Our serfs at will; we are no longer masters
   Of our own lands. Presume not to dismiss
   An idler. Willy nilly, thou must feed him!
   Presume not to outbid a man in hiring
   A labourer, or you will find yourself
   In the Court's clutches.—Was such an evil heard of
   Even under tsar Ivan? And are the people
   The better off? Ask them. Let the pretender
   But promise them the old free right of transfer,
   Then there'll be sport.
 
 
   SHUISKY.              Thou'rt right; but be advised;
   Of this, of all things, for a time we'll speak
   No word.
 
 
   PUSHKIN. Assuredly, keep thine own counsel.
   Thou art—a person of discretion; always
   I am glad to commune with thee; and if aught
   At any time disturbs me, I endure not
   To keep it from thee; and, truth to tell, thy mead
   And velvet ale today have so untied
   My tongue…Farewell then, prince.
 
 
   SHUISKY.                 Brother, farewell.
   Farewell, my brother, till we meet again.
 

   (He escorts PUSHKIN out.)

PALACE OF THE TSAR

The TSAREVICH is drawing a map. The TSAREVNA. The NURSE of the Tsarevna

 
   KSENIA. (Kisses a portrait.) My dear bridegroom, comely
   son of a king, not to me wast thou given, not to thy
   affianced bride, but to a dark sepulchre in a strange
   land; never shall I take comfort, ever shall I weep for
   thee.
 
 
   NURSE. Eh, tsarevna! A maiden weeps as the dew falls;
   the sun will rise, will dry the dew. Thou wilt have
   another bridegroom—and handsome and affable. My
   charming child, thou wilt learn to love him, thou wilt
   forget Ivan the king's son.
 
 
   KSENIA. Nay, nurse, I will be true to him even in death.
 

   (Boris enters.)

 
   TSAR. What, Ksenia? What, my sweet one? In thy girlhood
   Already a woe-stricken widow, ever
   Bewailing thy dead bridegroom! Fate forbade me
   To be the author of thy bliss. Perchance
   I angered Heaven; it was not mine to compass
   Thy happiness. Innocent one, for what
   Art thou a sufferer? And thou, my son,
   With what art thou employed? What's this?
 
 
   FEODOR.                           A chart
   Of all the land of Muscovy; our tsardom
   From end to end. Here you see; there is Moscow,
   There Novgorod, there Astrakhan. Here lies
   The sea, here the dense forest tract of Perm,
   And here Siberia.
 
 
   TSAR.           And what is this
   Which makes a winding pattern here?
 
 
   FEODOR.                           That is
   The Volga.
 
 
   TSAR.    Very good! Here's the sweet fruit
   Of learning. One can view as from the clouds
   Our whole dominion at a glance; its frontiers,
   Its towns, its rivers. Learn, my son; 'tis science
   Which gives to us an abstract of the events
   Of our swift-flowing life. Some day, perchance
   Soon, all the lands which thou so cunningly
   Today hast drawn on paper, all will come
   Under thy hand. Learn, therefore; and more smoothly,
   More clearly wilt thou take, my son, upon thee
   The cares of state.
 

   (SEMYON Godunov enters.)

 
                     But there comes Godunov
   Bringing reports to me. (To KSENIA.) Go to thy chamber
   Dearest; farewell, my child; God comfort thee.
 

   (Exeunt KSENIA and NURSE.)

 
   What news hast thou for me, Semyon Nikitich?
 
 
   SEMYON G. Today at dawn the butler of Prince Shuisky
   And Pushkin's servant brought me information.
 
 
   TSAR. Well?
 
 
   SEMYON G. In the first place Pushkin's man deposed
   That yestermorn came to his house from Cracow
   A courier, who within an hour was sent
   Without a letter back.
 
 
   TSAR.                Arrest the courier.
 
 
   SEMYON G. Some are already sent to overtake him.
 
 
   TSAR. And what of Shuisky?
 
 
   SEMYON G.               Last night he entertained
   His friends; the Buturlins, both Miloslavskys,
   And Saltikov, with Pushkin and some others.
   They parted late. Pushkin alone remained
   Closeted with his host and talked with him
   A long time more.
 
 
   TSAR.           For Shuisky send forthwith.
 
 
   SEMYON G. Sire, he is here already.
 
 
   TSAR.                       Call him hither.
 

   (Exit SEMYON Godunov.)

 

 
   Dealings with Lithuania? What means this?
   I like not the seditious race of Pushkins,
   Nor must I trust in Shuisky, obsequious,
   But bold and wily—
 

   (Enter SHUISKY.)

 
                    Prince, I must speak with thee.
   But thou thyself, it seems, hast business with me,
   And I would listen first to thee.
 
 
   SHUISKY.                        Yea, sire;
   It is my duty to convey to thee
   Grave news.
 
 
   TSAR.     I listen.
 
 
   SHUISKY. (Sotto voce, pointing to FEODOR.)
                     But, sire—
 
 
   TSAR.                      The tsarevich
   May learn whate'er Prince Shuisky knoweth. Speak.
 
 
   SHUISKY. My liege, from Lithuania there have come
   Tidings to us—
 
 
   TSAR.        Are they not those same tidings
   Which yestereve a courier bore to Pushkin?
 
 
   SHUISKY. Nothing is hidden from him!—Sire, I thought
   Thou knew'st not yet this secret.
 
 
   TSAR.                           Let not that
   Trouble thee, prince; I fain would scrutinise
   Thy information; else we shall not learn
   The actual truth.
 
 
   SHUISKY.        I know this only, Sire;
   In Cracow a pretender hath appeared;
   The king and nobles back him.
 
 
   TSAR.                       What say they?
   And who is this pretender?
 
 
   SHUISKY.                 I know not.
 
 
   TSAR. But wherein is he dangerous?
 
 
   SHUISKY.                         Verily
   Thy state, my liege, is firm; by graciousness,
   Zeal, bounty, thou hast won the filial love
   Of all thy slaves; but thou thyself dost know
   The mob is thoughtless, changeable, rebellious,
   Credulous, lightly given to vain hope,
   Obedient to each momentary impulse,
   To truth deaf and indifferent; it feedeth
   On fables; shameless boldness pleaseth it.
   So, if this unknown vagabond should cross
   The Lithuanian border, Dimitry's name
   Raised from the grave will gain him a whole crowd
   Of fools.
 
 
   TSAR. Dimitry's?—What?—That child's?—Dimitry's?
   Withdraw, tsarevich.
 
 
   SHUISKY.           He flushed; there'll be a storm!
 
 
   FEODOR. Suffer me, Sire—
 
 
   TSAR.                  Impossible, my son;
   Go, go!
 

   (Exit FEODOR.)

 
         Dimitry's name!
 
 
   SHUISKY.            Then he knew nothing.
 
 
   TSAR. Listen: take steps this very hour that Russia
   Be fenced by barriers from Lithuania;
   That not a single soul pass o'er the border,
   That not a hare run o'er to us from Poland,
   Nor crow fly here from Cracow. Away!
 
 
   SHUISKY.                           I go.
 
 
   TSAR. Stay!—Is it not a fact that this report
   Is artfully concocted? Hast ever heard
   That dead men have arisen from their graves
   To question tsars, legitimate tsars, appointed,
   Chosen by the voice of all the people, crowned
   By the great Patriarch? Is't not laughable?
   Eh? What? Why laugh'st thou not thereat?
 
 
   SHUISKY.                               I, Sire?
 
 
   TSAR. Hark, Prince Vassily; when first I learned this child
   Had been—this child had somehow lost its life,
   'Twas thou I sent to search the matter out.
   Now by the Cross and God I do adjure thee,
   Declare to me the truth upon thy conscience;
   Didst recognise the slaughtered boy; was't not
   A substitute? Reply.
 
 
   SHUISKY.           I swear to thee—
 
 
   TSAR. Nay, Shuisky, swear not, but reply; was it
   Indeed Dimitry?
 
 
   SHUISKY.      He.
 
 
   TSAR.           Consider, prince.
   I promise clemency; I will not punish
   With vain disgrace a lie that's past. But if
   Thou now beguile me, then by my son's head
   I swear—an evil fate shall overtake thee,
   Requital such that Tsar Ivan Vasilievich
   Shall shudder in his grave with horror of it.
 
 
   SHUISKY. In punishment no terror lies; the terror
   Doth lie in thy disfavour; in thy presence
   Dare I use cunning? Could I deceive myself
   So blindly as not recognise Dimitry?
   Three days in the cathedral did I visit
   His corpse, escorted thither by all Uglich.
   Around him thirteen bodies lay of those
   Slain by the people, and on them corruption
   Already had set in perceptibly.
   But lo! The childish face of the tsarevich
   Was bright and fresh and quiet as if asleep;
   The deep gash had congealed not, nor the lines
   Of his face even altered. No, my liege,
   There is no doubt; Dimitry sleeps in the grave.
 
 
   TSAR. Enough, withdraw.
 

   (Exit SHUISKY.)

 
                   I choke!—let me get my breath!
   I felt it; all my blood surged to my face,
   And heavily fell back.—So that is why
   For thirteen years together I have dreamed
   Ever about the murdered child. Yes, yes—
   'Tis that!—now I perceive. But who is he,
   My terrible antagonist? Who is it
   Opposeth me? An empty name, a shadow.
   Can it be a shade shall tear from me the purple,
   A sound deprive my children of succession?
   Fool that I was! Of what was I afraid?
   Blow on this phantom—and it is no more.
   So, I am fast resolved; I'll show no sign
   Of fear, but nothing must be held in scorn.
   Ah! Heavy art thou, crown of Monomakh!