The Collected Works of Oscar Wilde: 250+ Titles in One Edition. Оскар Уайльд

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

      (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 tomorrow 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?

      Prince Paul. Hanging is of course a good deal less of a novelty in Russia now, Sire, than it was three or four years ago; and you know how easily the people get tired even of their best amusements. But the square and the tops of the houses were really quite crowded, were they not, Prince? (To the Czarevitch who takes no notice.)

      Czar. That’s right; all loyal citizens should be there. It shows them what to look forward to. Did you arrest any one in the crowd?

      Prince Paul. Yes, Sire, a woman for cursing your name. (The Czarevitch starts anxiously.) She was the mother of the two criminals.

      Czar (looking at Czarevitch). She should have blessed me for having rid her of her children. Send her to prison.

      Czare. The prisons of Russia are too full already, Sire. There is no room in them for any more victims.

      She is sure to die on the way. (Czar. They don’t die fast enough, then. You should put more of them into one cell at once. You don’t keep them long enough in the mines. If you do they’re sure to die; but you’re all too merciful. I’m too merciful myself. Send her to Siberia.Enter an Aide-de-Camp.) Who’s that? Who’s that?

      Aide-de-Camp.