Vera: or, The Nihilists

Alex. God knows it, I am with you. But you must not go. The police are watching every train for you. When you are seized they have orders to place you without trial in the lowest dungeon of the palace. I know it – no matter how. Oh, think how without you the sun goes from our life, how the people will lose their leader and liberty her priestess. Vera, you must not go!

Vera. If you wish it, I will stay. I would live a little longer for freedom, a little longer for Russia.

Alex. When you die then Russia is smitten indeed; when you die then I shall lose all hope – all… Vera, this is fearful news you bring – martial law – it is too terrible. I knew it not, by my soul, I knew it not!

Vera. How could you have known it? It is too well laid a plot for that. This great White Czar, whose hands are red with the blood of the people he has murdered, whose soul is black with his iniquity, is the cleverest conspirator of us all. Oh, how could Russia bear two hearts like yours and his!

Alex. Vera, the Emperor was not always like this. There was a time when he loved the people. It is that devil, whom God curse, Prince Paul Maraloffski who has brought him to this. To-morrow, I swear it, I shall plead for the people to the Emperor.

Vera. Plead to the Czar! Foolish boy, it is only those who are sentenced to death that ever see our Czar. Besides, what should he care for a voice that pleads for mercy? The cry of a strong nation in its agony has not moved that heart of stone.

Alex. (aside). Yet shall I plead to him. They can but kill me.

Prof. Here are the proclamations, Vera. Do you think they will do?

Vera. I shall read them. How fair he looks? Methinks he never seemed so noble as to-night. Liberty is blessed in having such a lover.

Alex. Well, President, what are you deep in?

Mich. We are thinking of the best way of killing bears. (Whispers to President and leads him aside.)

Prof. (to Vera). And the letters from our brothers at Paris and Berlin. What answer shall we send to them?

Vera (takes them mechanically). Had I not strangled nature, sworn neither to love nor be loved, methinks I might have loved him. Oh, I am a fool, a traitor myself, a traitor myself! But why did he come amongst us with his bright young face, his heart aflame for liberty, his pure white soul? Why does he make me feel at times as if I would have him as my king, Republican though I be? Oh, fool, fool, fool! False to your oath! weak as water! Have done! Remember what you are – a Nihilist, a Nihilist!

Pres. (to Michael). But you will be seized, Michael.

Mich. I think not. I will wear the uniform of the Imperial Guard, and the Colonel on duty is one of us. It is on the first floor, you remember; so I can take a long shot.

Pres. Shall I tell the brethren?

Mich. Not a word, not a word! There is a traitor amongst us.

Vera. Come, are these the proclamations? Yes, they will do; yes, they will do. Send five hundred to Kiev and Odessa and Novgorod, five hundred to Warsaw, and have twice the number distributed among the Southern Provinces, though these dull Russian peasants care little for our proclamations, and less for our martyrdoms. When the blow is struck, it must be from the town, not from the country.

Mich. Ay, and by the sword not by the goose-quill.

Vera. Where are the letters from Poland?

Prof. Here.

Vera. Unhappy Poland! The eagles of Russia have fed on her heart. We must not forget our brothers there.

Pres. Is this true, Michael?

Mich. Ay, I stake my life on it.

Pres.Let the doors be locked, then. Alexis Ivanacievitch entered on our roll of the brothers as a Student of the School of Medicine at Moscow. Why did you not tell us of this bloody scheme of martial law?

Alex. I, President?

Mich. Ay, you! You knew it, none better. Such weapons as these are not forged in a day. Why did you not tell us of it? A week ago there had been time to lay the mine, to raise the barricade, to strike one blow at least for liberty. But now the hour is past. It is too late, it is too late! Why did you keep it a secret from us, I say?

Alex. Now by the hand of freedom, Michael, my brother, you wrong me. I knew nothing of this hideous law. By my soul, my brothers, I knew not of it! How should I know?

Mich. Because you are a traitor! Where did you go when you left us the night of our last meeting here?

Alex. To mine own house, Michael.

Mich. Liar! I was on your track. You left here an hour after midnight. Wrapped in a large cloak, you crossed the river in a boat a mile below the second bridge, and gave the ferryman a gold piece, you, the poor student of medicine! You doubled back twice, and hid in an archway so long that I had almost made up my mind to stab you at once, only that I am fond of hunting. So! you thought that you had baffled all pursuit, did you? Fool! I am a bloodhound that never loses the scent. I followed you from street to street. At last I saw you pass swiftly across the Place St. Isaac, whisper to the guards the secret password, enter the palace by a private door with your own key.

Conspirators. The palace!

Vera. Alexis!

Mich. I waited. All through the dreary watches of our long Russian night I waited, that I might kill you with your Judas hire still hot in your hand. But you never came out; you never left that palace at all. I saw the blood-red sun rise through the yellow fog over the murky town; I saw a new day of oppression dawn on Russia; but you never came out. So you pass nights in the palace, do you? You know the password for the guards! you have a key to a secret door. Oh, you are a spy – you are a spy! I never trusted you, with your soft white hands, your curled hair, your pretty graces. You have no mark of suffering about you; you cannot be of the people. You are a spy – a spy – traitor.

Omnes. Kill him! Kill him! (draw their knives.)

Vera (rushing in front of Alexis). Stand back, I say, Michael! Stand back all! Do not dare lay a hand upon him! He is the noblest heart amongst us.

Omnes. Kill him! Kill him! He is a spy!

Vera. Dare to lay a finger on him, and I leave you all to yourselves.

Pres. Vera, did you not hear what Michael said of him? He stayed all night in the Czar's palace. He has a password and a private key. What else should he be but a spy?

Vera. Bah! I do not believe Michael. It is a lie! It is a lie! Alexis, say it is a lie!

Alex. It is true. Michael has told what he saw. I did pass that night in the Czar's palace. Michael has spoken the truth.

Vera. Stand back, I say; stand back! Alexis, I do not care. I trust you; you would not betray us; you would not sell the people for money. You are honest, true! Oh, say you are no spy!

Alex. Spy? You know I am not. I am with you, my brothers, to the death.

Mich. Ay, to your own death.

Alex. Vera, you know I am true.

Vera. I know it well.

Pres. Why are you here, traitor?

Alex. Because I love the people.

Mich. Then you can be a martyr for them?

Vera. You must kill me first, Michael, before you lay a finger on him.

Pres. Michael, we dare not lose Vera. It is her whim to let this boy live. We can keep him here to-night. Up to this he has not betrayed us.

(Tramp of soldiers outside, knocking at door.)

Voice. Open in the name of the Emperor!

Mich. He has betrayed us. This is your doing, spy!

Pres. Come, Michael, come. We have no time to cut one another's throats while we have our own heads to save.

Voice. Open in the name of the Emperor!

Pres. Brothers, be masked all of you. Michael, open the door. It is our only chance.

(Enter General Kotemkin and soldiers.)

Gen. All honest citizens should be in their own houses at an hour before midnight, and not more than five people have a right to meet privately. Have you not noticed the proclamation, fellows?

Mich. Ay, you have spoiled every honest wall in Moscow with it.

Vera. Peace, Michael, peace. Nay, Sir, we knew it not. We are a company of strolling players travelling from Samara to Moscow to amuse His Imperial Majesty the Czar.

Gen. But I heard loud voices before I entered. What was that?

Vera. We were rehearsing a new tragedy.

Gen. Your answers are too honest to be true. Come, let me see who you are. Take off those players' masks. By St. Nicholas, my beauty, if your face matches your figure, you must be a choice morsel! Come, I say, pretty one; I would sooner see your face than those of all the others.

Pres. O God! if he sees it is Vera, we are all lost!

Gen. No coquetting, my girl. Come, unmask, I say, or I shall tell my guards to do it for you.

Alex. Stand back, I say, General Kotemkin!

Gen. Who are you, fellow, that talk with such a tripping tongue to your betters? (Alexis takes his mask off.) His Imperial Highness the Czarevitch!

Omnes. The Czarevitch! It is all over!

Pres. He will give us up to the soldiers.

Mich. (to Vera). Why did you not let me kill him? Come, we must fight to the death for it.

Vera. Peace! he will not betray us.

Alex. A whim of mine, General! You know how my father keeps me from the world and imprisons me in the palace. I should really be bored to death if I could not get out at night in disguise sometimes, and have some romantic adventure in town. I fell in with these honest folks a few hours ago.

Gen. But, your Highness —

Alex. Oh, they are excellent actors, I assure you. If you had come in ten minutes ago, you would have witnessed a most interesting scene.

Gen. Actors, are they, Prince?

Alex. Ay, and very ambitious actors, too. They only care to play before kings.

Gen. I' faith, your Highness, I was in hopes I had made a good haul of Nihilists.

Alex. Nihilists in Moscow, General! with you as head of the police? Impossible!

Gen. So I always tell your Imperial father. But I heard at the council to-day that that woman Vera Sabouroff, the head of them, had been seen in this very city. The Emperor's face turned as white as the snow outside. I think I never saw such terror in any man before.

Alex. She is a dangerous woman, then, this Vera Sabouroff?

Gen. The most dangerous in all Europe.

Alex. Did you ever see her, General?

Gen. Why, five years ago, when I was a plain Colonel, I remember her, your Highness, a common waiting girl in an inn. If I had known then what she was going to turn out, I would have flogged her to death on the roadside. She is not a woman at all; she is a sort of devil! For the last eighteen months I have been hunting her, and caught sight of her once last September outside Odessa.

Alex. How did you let her go, General?

Gen. I was by myself, and she shot one of my horses just as I was gaining on her. If I see her again I shan't miss my chance. The Emperor has put twenty thousand roubles on her head.

Alex. I hope you will get it, General; but meanwhile you are frightening these honest people out of their wits, and disturbing the tragedy. Good night, General.

Gen. Yes; but I should like to see their faces, your Highness.

Alex. No, General; you must not ask that; you know how these gipsies hate to be stared at.

Gen. Yes. But, your Highness —

Alex. (haughtily). General, they are my friends, that is enough. And, General, not a word of this little adventure here, you understand. I shall rely on you.

Gen. I shall not forget, Prince. But shall we not see you back to the palace? The State ball is almost over and you are expected.

Alex. I shall be there; but I shall return alone. Remember, not a word about my strolling players.

Gen. Or your pretty gipsy, eh, Prince? your pretty gipsy! I' faith, I should like to see her before I go; she has such fine eyes through her mask. Well, good night, your Highness; good night.

Alex. Good night, General.

(Exit General and the soldiers.)

Vera (throwing off her mask). Saved! and by you!

Alex. (clasping her hand). Brothers, you trust me now?

TABLEAUEnd of Act I

ACT II

Scene. —Council Chamber in the Emperor's Palace, hung with yellow tapestry. Table, with chair of State, set for the Czar; window behind, opening on to a balcony. As the scene progresses the light outside gets darker.

Present.– Prince Paul Maraloffski, Prince Petrovitch, Count Rouvaloff, Baron Raff, Count Petouchof.

Prince Petro. So our young scatter-brained Czarevitch has been forgiven at last, and is to take his seat here again.

Prince Paul. Yes; if that is not meant as an extra punishment. For my own part, at least, I find these Cabinet Councils extremely exhausting.

Prince Petro. Naturally; you are always speaking.

Prince Paul. No; I think it must be that I have to listen sometimes.

Count R. Still, anything is better than being kept in a sort of prison, like he was – never allowed to go out into the world.

Prince Paul. My dear Count, for romantic young people like he is, the world always looks best at a distance; and a prison where one's allowed to order one's own dinner is not at all a bad place. (Enter the Czarevitch. The courtiers rise.) Ah! good afternoon, Prince. Your Highness is looking a little pale to-day.

Czare. (slowly, after a pause). I want change of air.

Prince Paul (smiling). A most revolutionary sentiment! Your Imperial father would highly disapprove of any reforms with the thermometer in Russia.

Czare. (bitterly). My Imperial father had kept me for six months in this dungeon of a palace. This morning he has me suddenly woke up to see some wretched Nihilists hung; it sickened me, the bloody butchery, though it was a noble thing to see how well these men can die.

Prince Paul. When you are as old as I am, Prince, you will understand that there are few things easier than to live badly and to die well.

Czare. Easy to die well! A lesson experience cannot have taught you, whatever you may know of a bad life.

Prince Paul (shrugging his shoulders). Experience, the name men give to their mistakes. I never commit any.

Czare. (bitterly). No; crimes are more in your line.

Prince Petro. (to the Czarevitch). The Emperor was a good deal agitated about your late appearance at the ball last night, Prince.

Count R. (laughing). I believe he thought the Nihilists had broken into the palace and carried you off.

Baron Raff. If they had you would have missed a charming dance.

Prince Paul. And an excellent supper. Gringoire really excelled himself in his salad. Ah! you may laugh, Baron; but to make a good salad is a much more difficult thing than cooking accounts. To make a good salad is to be a brilliant diplomatist – the problem is so entirely the same in both cases. To know exactly how much oil one must put with one's vinegar.

Baron Raff. A cook and a diplomatist! an excellent parallel. If I had a son who was a fool I'd make him one or the other.

Prince Paul. I see your father did not hold the same opinion, Baron. But, believe me, you are wrong to run down cookery. For myself, the only immortality I desire is to invent a new sauce. I have never had time enough to think seriously about it, but I feel it is in me, I feel it is in me.

Czare. You have certainly missed your metier, Prince Paul; the cordon bleu would have suited you much better than the Grand Cross of Honour. But you know you could never have worn your white apron well; you would have soiled it too soon, your hands are not clean enough.

Prince Paul (bowing). Que voulez vous? I manage your father's business.

Czare. (bitterly). You mismanage my father's business, you mean! Evil genius of his life that you are! before you came there was some love left in him. It is you who have embittered his nature, poured into his ear the poison of treacherous counsel, made him hated by the whole people, made him what he is – a tyrant!

(The courtiers look significantly at each other.)

Prince Paul (calmly). I see your Highness does want change of air. But I have been an eldest son myself. (Lights a cigarette.) I know what it is when a father won't die to please one.

(The Czarevitch goes to the top of the stage, and leans against the window, looking out.)

Prince Petro. (to Baron Raff). Foolish boy! He will be sent into exile, or worse, if he is not careful.

Baron Raff. Yes. What a mistake it is to be sincere!

Prince Petro. The only folly you have never committed, Baron.

Baron Raff. One has only one head, you know, Prince.

Prince Paul. My dear Baron, your head is the last thing any one would wish to take from you. (Pulls out snuffbox and offers it to Prince Petrovitch.)

Prince Petro. Thanks, Prince! Thanks!

Prince Paul. Very delicate, isn't it? I get it direct from Paris. But under this vulgar Republic everything has degenerated over there. "Cotelettes à l'impériale" vanished, of course, with the Bourbon, and omelettes went out with the Orleanists. La belle France is entirely ruined, Prince, through bad morals and worse cookery. (Enter the Marquis de Poivrard.) Ah! Marquis. I trust Madame la Marquise is well.

Marquis de P. You ought to know better than I do, Prince Paul; you see more of her.

Prince Paul (bowing). Perhaps I see more in her, Marquis. Your wife is really a charming woman, so full of esprit, and so satirical too; she talks continually of you when we are together.

Prince Petro. (looking at the clock). His Majesty is a little late to-day, is he not?

Prince Paul. What has happened to you, my dear Petrovitch? you seem quite out of sorts. You haven't quarrelled with your cook, I hope? What a tragedy that would be for you; you would lose all your friends.

Prince Petro. I fear I wouldn't be so fortunate as that. You forget I would still have my purse. But you are wrong for once; my chef and I are on excellent terms.

Prince Paul. Then your creditors or Mademoiselle Vera Sabouroff have been writing to you? I find both of them such excellent correspondents. But really you needn't be alarmed. I find the most violent proclamations from the Executive Committee, as they call it, left all over my house. I never read them; they are so badly spelt as a rule.

Prince Petro. Wrong again, Prince; the Nihilists leave me alone for some reason or other.

Prince Paul (aside). Ah! true. I forgot. Indifference is the revenge the world takes on mediocrities.

Prince Petro. I am bored with life, Prince. Since the opera season ended I have been a perpetual martyr to ennui.

Prince Paul. The maladie du siècle! You want a new excitement, Prince. Let me see – you have been married twice already; suppose you try – falling in love, for once.

Baron R. Prince, I have been thinking a good deal lately —

Prince Paul (interrupting). You surprise me very much, Baron.

Baron R. I cannot understand your nature.

Prince Paul (smiling). If my nature had been made to suit your comprehension rather than my own requirements, I am afraid I would have made a very poor figure in the world.

Count R. There seems to be nothing in life about which you would not jest.

Prince Paul. Ah! my dear Count, life is much too important a thing ever to talk seriously about it.

Czare. (coming back from the window). I don't think Prince Paul's nature is such a mystery. He would stab his best friend for the sake of writing an epigram on his tombstone, or experiencing a new sensation.

Prince Paul. Parbleu! I would sooner lose my best friend than my worst enemy. To have friends, you know, one need only be good-natured; but when a man has no enemy left there must be something mean about him.

Czare. (bitterly). If to have enemies is a measure of greatness, then you must be a Colossus, indeed, Prince.

Prince Paul. Yes, I know I'm the most hated man in Russia, except your father, except your father, of course, Prince. He doesn't seem to like it much, by the way, but I do, I assure you. (Bitterly.) I love to drive through the streets and see how the canaille scowl at me from every corner. It makes me feel I am a power in Russia; one man against a hundred millions! Besides, I have no ambition to be a popular hero, to be crowned with laurels one year and pelted with stones the next; I prefer dying peaceably in my own bed.

Czare. And after death?

Prince Paul (shrugging his shoulders). Heaven is a despotism. I shall be at home there.

Czare. Do you never think of the people and their rights?

Prince Paul. The people and their rights bore me. I am sick of both. In these modern days to be vulgar, illiterate, common and vicious, seems to give a man a marvellous infinity of rights that his honest fathers never dreamed of. Believe me, Prince, in good democracy every man should be an aristocrat; but these people in Russia who seek to thrust us out are no better than the animals in one's preserves, and made to be shot at, most of them.

Czare. (excitedly). If they are common, illiterate, vulgar, no better than the beasts of the field, who made them so?

(Enter Aide-de-Camp.)

Aide-de-Camp. His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor! (Prince Paul looks at the Czarevitch, and smiles.)

(Enter the Czar, surrounded by his guard.)

Czare. (rushing forward to meet him). Sire!

Czar (nervous and frightened). Don't come too near me, boy! Don't come too near me, I say! There is always something about an heir to a crown unwholesome to his father. Who is that man over there? I don't know him. What is he doing? Is he a conspirator? Have you searched him? Give him till to-morrow to confess, then hang him! – hang him!

Prince Paul. Sire, you are anticipating history. This is Count Petouchof, your new ambassador to Berlin. He is come to kiss hands on his appointment.

Czar. To kiss my hand? There is some plot in it. He wants to poison me. There, kiss my son's hand; it will do quite as well.

(Prince Paul signs to Count Petouchof to leave the room. Exit Petouchof and the guards. Czar sinks down into his chair. The courtiers remain silent.)

Prince Paul (approaching). Sire! will your Majesty —

Czar. What do you startle me like that for? No, I won't. (Watches the courtiers nervously.) Why are you clattering your sword, sir? (To Count Rouvaloff.) Take it off, I shall have no man wear a sword in my presence (looking at Czarevitch), least of all my son. (To Prince Paul.) You are not angry with me, Prince? You won't desert me, will you? Say you won't desert me. What do you want? You can have anything – anything.

Prince Paul (bowing very low). Sire, 'tis enough for me to have your confidence. (Aside.) I was afraid he was going to revenge himself and give me another decoration.

Czar (returning to his chair). Well, gentlemen.

Marq. de Poiv. Sire, I have the honour to present to you a loyal address from your subjects in the Province of Archangel, expressing their horror at the last attempt on your Majesty's life.

Prince Paul. The last attempt but two, you ought to have said, Marquis. Don't you see it is dated three weeks back?

Czar. They are good people in the Province of Archangel – honest, loyal people. They love me very much – simple, loyal people; give them a new saint, it costs nothing. Well, Alexis (turning to the Czarevitch) – how many traitors were hung this morning?

Czare. There were three men strangled, Sire.

Czar. There should have been three thousand. I would to God that this people had but one neck that I might strangle them with one noose! Did they tell anything? whom did they implicate? what did they confess?

Czare. Nothing, Sire.

Czar. They should have been tortured then; why weren't they tortured? Must I always be fighting in the dark? Am I never to know from what root these traitors spring?

Czare. What root should there be of discontent among the people but tyranny and injustice amongst their rulers?

Czar. What did you say, boy? tyranny! tyranny! Am I a tyrant? I'm not. I love the people. I'm their father. I'm called so in every official proclamation. Have a care, boy; have a care. You don't seem to be cured yet of your foolish tongue. (Goes over to Prince Paul, and puts his hand on his shoulder.) Prince Paul, tell me were there many people there this morning to see the Nihilists hung?