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diff --git a/3488.txt b/3488.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7892dbf --- /dev/null +++ b/3488.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2291 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Great Catherine, by George Bernard Shaw + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Great Catherine + +Author: George Bernard Shaw + +Posting Date: February 1, 2009 [EBook #3488] +Release Date: October, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREAT CATHERINE *** + + + + +Produced by Eve Sobol + + + + + +GREAT CATHERINE (WHOM GLORY STILL ADORES) + +By George Bernard Shaw + + + "In Catherine's reign, whom Glory still adores" + BYRON + + + + +THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR GREAT CATHERINE + +Exception has been taken to the title of this seeming tomfoolery on the +ground that the Catherine it represents is not Great Catherine, but the +Catherine whose gallantries provide some of the lightest pages of modern +history. Great Catherine, it is said, was the Catherine whose diplomacy, +whose campaigns and conquests, whose plans of Liberal reform, whose +correspondence with Grimm and Voltaire enabled her to cut such a +magnificent figure in the eighteenth century. In reply, I can only +confess that Catherine's diplomacy and her conquests do not interest +me. It is clear to me that neither she nor the statesmen with whom she +played this mischievous kind of political chess had any notion of +the real history of their own times, or of the real forces that were +moulding Europe. The French Revolution, which made such short work of +Catherine's Voltairean principles, surprised and scandalized her as much +as it surprised and scandalized any provincial governess in the French +chateaux. + +The main difference between her and our modern Liberal Governments was +that whereas she talked and wrote quite intelligently about Liberal +principles before she was frightened into making such talking and +writing a flogging matter, our Liberal ministers take the name of +Liberalism in vain without knowing or caring enough about its meaning +even to talk and scribble about it, and pass their flogging Bills, and +institute their prosecutions for sedition and blasphemy and so forth, +without the faintest suspicion that such proceedings need any apology +from the Liberal point of view. + +It was quite easy for Patiomkin to humbug Catherine as to the condition +of Russia by conducting her through sham cities run up for the occasion +by scenic artists; but in the little world of European court intrigue +and dynastic diplomacy which was the only world she knew she was more +than a match for him and for all the rest of her contemporaries. In such +intrigue and diplomacy, however, there was no romance, no scientific +political interest, nothing that a sane mind can now retain even if +it can be persuaded to waste time in reading it up. But Catherine as a +woman with plenty of character and (as we should say) no morals, +still fascinates and amuses us as she fascinated and amused her +contemporaries. They were great sentimental comedians, these Peters, +Elizabeths, and Catherines who played their Tsarships as eccentric +character parts, and produced scene after scene of furious harlequinade +with the monarch as clown, and of tragic relief in the torture chamber +with the monarch as pantomime demon committing real atrocities, not +forgetting the indispensable love interest on an enormous and utterly +indecorous scale. Catherine kept this vast Guignol Theatre open for +nearly half a century, not as a Russian, but as a highly domesticated +German lady whose household routine was not at all so unlike that of +Queen Victoria as might be expected from the difference in their notions +of propriety in sexual relations. + +In short, if Byron leaves you with an impression that he said very +little about Catherine, and that little not what was best worth saying, +I beg to correct your impression by assuring you that what Byron said +was all there really is to say that is worth saying. His Catherine is my +Catherine and everybody's Catherine. The young man who gains her favor +is a Spanish nobleman in his version. I have made him an English country +gentleman, who gets out of his rather dangerous scrape, by simplicity, +sincerity, and the courage of these qualities. By this I have given some +offence to the many Britons who see themselves as heroes: what they mean +by heroes being theatrical snobs of superhuman pretensions which, though +quite groundless, are admitted with awe by the rest of the human race. +They say I think an Englishman a fool. When I do, they have themselves +to thank. + +I must not, however, pretend that historical portraiture was the motive +of a play that will leave the reader as ignorant of Russian history +as he may be now before he has turned the page. Nor is the sketch of +Catherine complete even idiosyncratically, leaving her politics out of +the question. For example, she wrote bushels of plays. I confess I +have not yet read any of them. The truth is, this play grew out of the +relations which inevitably exist in the theatre between authors and +actors. If the actors have sometimes to use their skill as the author's +puppets rather than in full self-expression, the author has sometimes to +use his skill as the actors' tailor, fitting them with parts written to +display the virtuosity of the performer rather than to solve problems of +life, character, or history. Feats of this kind may tickle an author's +technical vanity; but he is bound on such occasions to admit that the +performer for whom he writes is "the onlie begetter" of his work, +which must be regarded critically as an addition to the debt dramatic +literature owes to the art of acting and its exponents. Those who have +seen Miss Gertrude Kingston play the part of Catherine will have no +difficulty in believing that it was her talent rather than mine that +brought the play into existence. I once recommended Miss Kingston +professionally to play queens. Now in the modern drama there were no +queens for her to play; and as to the older literature of our stage: did +it not provoke the veteran actress in Sir Arthur Pinero's Trelawny of +the Wells to declare that, as parts, queens are not worth a tinker's +oath? Miss Kingston's comment on my suggestion, though more elegantly +worded, was to the same effect; and it ended in my having to make good +my advice by writing Great Catherine. History provided no other queen +capable of standing up to our joint talents. + +In composing such bravura pieces, the author limits himself only by the +range of the virtuoso, which by definition far transcends the modesty +of nature. If my Russians seem more Muscovite than any Russian, and +my English people more insular than any Briton, I will not plead, as +I honestly might, that the fiction has yet to be written that can +exaggerate the reality of such subjects; that the apparently outrageous +Patiomkin is but a timidly bowdlerized ghost of the original; and +that Captain Edstaston is no more than a miniature that might hang +appropriately on the walls of nineteen out of twenty English country +houses to this day. An artistic presentment must not condescend to +justify itself by a comparison with crude nature; and I prefer to admit +that in this kind my dramatic personae are, as they should be, of the +stage stagey, challenging the actor to act up to them or beyond them, +if he can. The more heroic the overcharging, the better for the +performance. + +In dragging the reader thus for a moment behind the scenes, I am +departing from a rule which I have hitherto imposed on myself so rigidly +that I never permit myself, even in a stage direction, to let slip a +word that could bludgeon the imagination of the reader by reminding him +of the boards and the footlights and the sky borders and the rest of +the theatrical scaffolding, for which nevertheless I have to plan as +carefully as if I were the head carpenter as well as the author. But +even at the risk of talking shop, an honest playwright should take at +least one opportunity of acknowledging that his art is not only limited +by the art of the actor, but often stimulated and developed by it. No +sane and skilled author writes plays that present impossibilities to +the actor or to the stage engineer. If, as occasionally happens, he asks +them to do things that they have never done before and cannot conceive +as presentable or possible (as Wagner and Thomas Hardy have done, +for example), it is always found that the difficulties are not really +insuperable, the author having foreseen unsuspected possibilities both +in the actor and in the audience, whose will-to-make-believe can perform +the quaintest miracles. Thus may authors advance the arts of acting and +of staging plays. But the actor also may enlarge the scope of the drama +by displaying powers not previously discovered by the author. If the +best available actors are only Horatios, the authors will have to +leave Hamlet out, and be content with Horatios for heroes. Some of the +difference between Shakespeare's Orlandos and Bassanios and Bertrams and +his Hamlets and Macbeths must have been due not only to his development +as a dramatic poet, but to the development of Burbage as an actor. +Playwrights do not write for ideal actors when their livelihood is at +stake: if they did, they would write parts for heroes with twenty arms +like an Indian god. Indeed the actor often influences the author too +much; for I can remember a time (I am not implying that it is yet wholly +past) when the art of writing a fashionable play had become very +largely the art of writing it "round" the personalities of a group of +fashionable performers of whom Burbage would certainly have said that +their parts needed no acting. Everything has its abuse as well as its +use. + +It is also to be considered that great plays live longer than great +actors, though little plays do not live nearly so long as the worst of +their exponents. The consequence is that the great actor, instead of +putting pressure on contemporary authors to supply him with heroic +parts, falls back on the Shakespearean repertory, and takes what he +needs from a dead hand. In the nineteenth century, the careers of Kean, +Macready, Barry Sullivan, and Irving, ought to have produced a group of +heroic plays comparable in intensity to those of Aeschylus, Sophocles, +and Euripides; but nothing of the kind happened: these actors played +the works of dead authors, or, very occasionally, of live poets who +were hardly regular professional playwrights. Sheridan Knowles, Bulwer +Lytton, Wills, and Tennyson produced a few glaringly artificial high +horses for the great actors of their time; but the playwrights proper, +who really kept the theatre going, and were kept going by the theatre, +did not cater for the great actors: they could not afford to compete +with a bard who was not for an age but for all time, and who had, +moreover, the overwhelming attraction for the actor-managers of not +charging author's fees. The result was that the playwrights and the +great actors ceased to think of themselves as having any concern with +one another: Tom Robertson, Ibsen, Pinero, and Barrie might as well have +belonged to a different solar system as far as Irving was concerned; and +the same was true of their respective predecessors. + +Thus was established an evil tradition; but I at least can plead that +it does not always hold good. If Forbes Robertson had not been there to +play Caesar, I should not have written Caesar and Cleopatra. If Ellen +Terry had never been born, Captain Brassbound's Conversion would never +have been effected. The Devil's Disciple, with which I won my cordon +bleu in America as a potboiler, would have had a different sort of hero +if Richard Mansfield had been a different sort of actor, though the +actual commission to write it came from an English actor, William +Terriss, who was assassinated before he recovered from the dismay into +which the result of his rash proposal threw him. For it must be said +that the actor or actress who inspires or commissions a play as often +as not regards it as a Frankenstein's monster, and will have none of it. +That does not make him or her any the less parental in the fecundity of +the playwright. + +To an author who has any feeling of his business there is a keen and +whimsical joy in divining and revealing a side of an actor's genius +overlooked before, and unsuspected even by the actor himself. When I +snatched Mr Louis Calvert from Shakespeare, and made him wear a frock +coat and silk hat on the stage for perhaps the first time in his life, I +do not think he expected in the least that his performance would enable +me to boast of his Tom Broadbent as a genuine stage classic. Mrs +Patrick Campbell was famous before I wrote for her, but not for playing +illiterate cockney flower-maidens. And in the case which is provoking me +to all these impertinences, I am quite sure that Miss Gertrude +Kingston, who first made her reputation as an impersonator of the most +delightfully feather-headed and inconsequent ingenues, thought me more +than usually mad when I persuaded her to play the Helen of Euripides, +and then launched her on a queenly career as Catherine of Russia. + +It is not the whole truth that if we take care of the actors the plays +will take care of themselves; nor is it any truer that if we take care +of the plays the actors will take care of themselves. There is both give +and take in the business. I have seen plays written for actors that made +me exclaim, "How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds makes deeds ill +done!" But Burbage may have flourished the prompt copy of Hamlet under +Shakespeare's nose at the tenth rehearsal and cried, "How oft the sight +of means to do great deeds makes playwrights great!" I say the tenth +because I am convinced that at the first he denounced his part as a +rotten one; thought the ghost's speech ridiculously long; and wanted to +play the king. Anyhow, whether he had the wit to utter it or not, the +boast would have been a valid one. The best conclusion is that every +actor should say, "If I create the hero in myself, God will send an +author to write his part." For in the long run the actors will get the +authors, and the authors the actors, they deserve. + +Great Catherine was performed for the first time at the Vaudeville +Theatre in London on the 18th November 1913, with Gertrude Kingston as +Catherine, Miriam Lewes as Yarinka, Dorothy Massingham as Claire, Norman +McKinnell as Patiomkin, Edmond Breon as Edstaston, Annie Hill as the +Princess Dashkoff, and Eugene Mayeur and F. Cooke Beresford as Naryshkin +and the Sergeant. + + + + +GREAT CATHERINE + + + + +THE FIRST SCENE + +1776. Patiomkin in his bureau in the Winter Palace, St. Petersburgh. +Huge palatial apartment: style, Russia in the eighteenth century +imitating the Versailles du Roi Soleil. Extravagant luxury. Also dirt +and disorder. + +Patiomkin, gigantic in stature and build, his face marred by the loss +of one eye and a marked squint in the other, sits at the end of a +table littered with papers and the remains of three or four successive +breakfasts. He has supplies of coffee and brandy at hand sufficient for +a party of ten. His coat, encrusted with diamonds, is on the floor. It +has fallen off a chair placed near the other end of the table for the +convenience of visitors. His court sword, with its attachments, is on +the chair. His three-cornered hat, also bejewelled, is on the table. +He himself is half dressed in an unfastened shirt and an immense +dressing-gown, once gorgeous, now food-splashed and dirty, as it serves +him for towel, handkerchief, duster, and every other use to which a +textile fabric can be put by a slovenly man. It does not conceal his +huge hairy chest, nor his half-buttoned knee breeches, nor his legs. +These are partly clad in silk stockings, which he occasionally hitches +up to his knees, and presently shakes down to his shins, by his restless +movement. His feet are thrust into enormous slippers, worth, with their +crust of jewels, several thousand roubles apiece. + +Superficially Patiomkin is a violent, brutal barbarian, an upstart +despot of the most intolerable and dangerous type, ugly, lazy, and +disgusting in his personal habits. Yet ambassadors report him the ablest +man in Russia, and the one who can do most with the still abler Empress +Catherine II, who is not a Russian but a German, by no means barbarous +or intemperate in her personal habits. She not only disputes with +Frederick the Great the reputation of being the cleverest monarch in +Europe, but may even put in a very plausible claim to be the cleverest +and most attractive individual alive. Now she not only tolerates +Patiomkin long after she has got over her first romantic attachment to +him, but esteems him highly as a counsellor and a good friend. His love +letters are among the best on record. He has a wild sense of humor, +which enables him to laugh at himself as well as at everybody else. In +the eyes of the English visitor now about to be admitted to his presence +he may be an outrageous ruffian. In fact he actually is an outrageous +ruffian, in no matter whose eyes; but the visitor will find out, as +everyone else sooner or later fends out, that he is a man to be reckoned +with even by those who are not intimidated by his temper, bodily +strength, and exalted rank. + +A pretty young lady, Yarinka, his favorite niece, is lounging on an +ottoman between his end of the table and the door, very sulky and +dissatisfied, perhaps because he is preoccupied with his papers and his +brandy bottle, and she can see nothing of him but his broad back. + +There is a screen behind the ottoman. + +An old soldier, a Cossack sergeant, enters. + + +THE SERGEANT [softly to the lady, holding the door handle]. Little +darling honey, is his Highness the prince very busy? + +VARINKA. His Highness the prince is very busy. He is singing out of +tune; he is biting his nails; he is scratching his head; he is hitching +up his untidy stockings; he is making himself disgusting and odious to +everybody; and he is pretending to read state papers that he does +not understand because he is too lazy and selfish to talk and be +companionable. + +PATIOMKIN [growls; then wipes his nose with his dressing-gown]!! + +VARINKA. Pig. Ugh! [She curls herself up with a shiver of disgust and +retires from the conversation.] + +THE SERGEANT [stealing across to the coat, and picking it up to replace +it on the back of the chair]. Little Father, the English captain, +so highly recommended to you by old Fritz of Prussia, by the English +ambassador, and by Monsieur Voltaire (whom [crossing himself] may God in +his infinite mercy damn eternally!), is in the antechamber and desires +audience. + +PATIOMKIN [deliberately]. To hell with the English captain; and to hell +with old Fritz of Prussia; and to hell with the English ambassador; and +to hell with Monsieur Voltaire; and to hell with you too! + +THE SERGEANT. Have mercy on me, Little Father. Your head is bad this +morning. You drink too much French brandy and too little good Russian +kvass. + +PATIOMKIN [with sudden fury]. Why are visitors of consequence announced +by a sergeant? [Springing at him and seizing him by the throat.] What +do you mean by this, you hound? Do you want five thousand blows of the +stick? Where is General Volkonsky? + +THE SERGEANT [on his knees]. Little Father, you kicked his Highness +downstairs. + +PATIOMKIN [flinging him dawn and kicking him]. You lie, you dog. You +lie. + +THE SERGEANT. Little Father, life is hard for the poor. If you say it is +a lie, it is a lie. He FELL downstairs. I picked him up; and he kicked +me. They all kick me when you kick them. God knows that is not just, +Little Father! + +PATIOMKIN [laughs ogreishly; then returns to his place at the table, +chuckling]!!! + +VARINKA. Savage! Boot! It is a disgrace. No wonder the French sneer at +us as barbarians. + +THE SERGEANT [who has crept round the table to the screen, and +insinuated himself between Patiomkin's back and Varinka]. Do you think +the Prince will see the captain, little darling? + +PATIOMKIN. He will not see any captain. Go to the devil! + +THE SERGEANT. Be merciful, Little Father. God knows it is your duty to +see him! [To Varinka.] Intercede for him and for me, beautiful little +darling. He has given me a rouble. + +PATIOMKIN. Oh, send him in, send him in; and stop pestering me. Am I +never to have a moment's peace? + +The Sergeant salutes joyfully and hurries out, divining that Patiomkin +has intended to see the English captain all along, and has played this +comedy of fury and exhausted impatience to conceal his interest in the +visitor. + +VARINKA. Have you no shame? You refuse to see the most exalted persons. +You kick princes and generals downstairs. And then you see an English +captain merely because he has given a rouble to that common soldier. It +is scandalous. + +PATIOMKIN. Darling beloved, I am drunk; but I know what I am doing. I +wish to stand well with the English. + +VARINKA. And you think you will impress an Englishman by receiving him +as you are now, half drunk? + +PATIOMKIN [gravely]. It is true: the English despise men who cannot +drink. I must make myself wholly drunk [he takes a huge draught of +brandy.] + +VARINKA. Sot! + +The Sergeant returns ushering a handsome strongly built young English +officer in the uniform of a Light Dragoon. He is evidently on fairly +good terms with himself, and very sure of his social position. He +crosses the room to the end of the table opposite Patiomkin's, and +awaits the civilities of that statesman with confidence. The Sergeant +remains prudently at the door. + +THE SERGEANT [paternally]. Little Father, this is the English captain, +so well recommended to her sacred Majesty the Empress. God knows, he +needs your countenance and protec-- [he vanishes precipitately, +seeing that Patiomkin is about to throw a bottle at him. The Captain +contemplates these preliminaries with astonishment, and with some +displeasure, which is not allayed when, Patiomkin, hardly condescending +to look at his visitor, of whom he nevertheless takes stock with the +corner of his one eye, says gruffly]. Well? + +EDSTASTON. My name is Edstaston: Captain Edstaston of the Light +Dragoons. I have the honor to present to your Highness this letter from +the British ambassador, which will give you all necessary particulars. +[He hands Patiomkin the letter.] + +PATIOMKIN [tearing it open and glancing at it for about a second]. What +do you want? + +EDSTASTON. The letter will explain to your Highness who I am. + +PATIOMKIN. I don't want to know who you are. What do you want? + +EDSTASTON. An audience of the Empress. [Patiomkin contemptuously throws +the letter aside. Edstaston adds hotly.] Also some civility, if you +please. + +PATIOMKIN [with derision]. Ho! + +VARINKA. My uncle is receiving you with unusual civility, Captain. He +has just kicked a general downstairs. + +EDSTASTON. A Russian general, madam? + +VARINKA. Of course. + +EDSTASTON. I must allow myself to say, madam, that your uncle had better +not attempt to kick an English officer downstairs. + +PATIOMKIN. You want me to kick you upstairs, eh? You want an audience of +the Empress. + +EDSTASTON. I have said nothing about kicking, sir. If it comes to that, +my boots shall speak for me. Her Majesty has signified a desire to have +news of the rebellion in America. I have served against the rebels; and +I am instructed to place myself at the disposal of her Majesty, and to +describe the events of the war to her as an eye-witness, in a discreet +and agreeable manner. + +PATIOMKIN. Psha! I know. You think if she once sets eyes on your face +and your uniform your fortune is made. You think that if she could stand +a man like me, with only one eye, and a cross eye at that, she must fall +down at your feet at first sight, eh? + +EDSTASTON [shocked and indignant]. I think nothing of the sort; and I'll +trouble you not to repeat it. If I were a Russian subject and you made +such a boast about my queen, I'd strike you across the face with my +sword. [Patiomkin, with a yell of fury, rushes at him.] Hands off, you +swine! [As Patiomkin, towering over him, attempts to seize him by the +throat, Edstaston, who is a bit of a wrestler, adroitly backheels him. +He falls, amazed, on his back.] + +VARINKA [rushing out]. Help! Call the guard! The Englishman is murdering +my uncle! Help! Help! + +The guard and the Sergeant rush in. Edstaston draws a pair of small +pistols from his boots, and points one at the Sergeant and the other at +Patiomkin, who is sitting on the floor, somewhat sobered. The soldiers +stand irresolute. + +EDSTASTON. Stand off. [To Patiomkin.] Order them off, if you don't want +a bullet through your silly head. + +THE SERGEANT. Little Father, tell us what to do. Our lives are yours; +but God knows you are not fit to die. + +PATIOMKIN [absurdly self-possessed]. Get out. + +THE SERGEANT. Little Father-- + +PATIOMKIN [roaring]. Get out. Get out, all of you. [They withdraw, much +relieved at their escape from the pistol. Patiomkin attempts to rise, +and rolls over.] Here! help me up, will you? Don't you see that I'm +drunk and can't get up? + +EDSTASTON [suspiciously]. You want to get hold of me. + +PATIOMKIN [squatting resignedly against the chair on which his clothes +hang]. Very well, then: I shall stay where I am, because I'm drunk and +you're afraid of me. + +EDSTASTON. I'm not afraid of you, damn you! + +PATIOMKIN [ecstatically]. Darling, your lips are the gates of truth. Now +listen to me. [He marks off the items of his statement with ridiculous +stiff gestures of his head and arms, imitating a puppet.] You are +Captain Whatshisname; and your uncle is the Earl of Whatdyecallum; and +your father is Bishop of Thingummybob; and you are a young man of the +highest spr--promise (I told you I was drunk), educated at Cambridge, +and got your step as captain in the field at the GLORIOUS battle of +Bunker's Hill. Invalided home from America at the request of Aunt Fanny, +Lady-in-Waiting to the Queen. All right, eh? + +EDSTASTON. How do you know all this? + +PATIOMKIN [crowing fantastically]. In er lerrer, darling, darling, +darling, darling. Lerrer you showed me. + +EDSTASTON. But you didn't read it. + +PATIOMKIN [flapping his fingers at him grotesquely]. Only +one eye, darling. Cross eye. Sees everything. Read lerrer +inceince--istastaneously. Kindly give me vinegar borle. Green borle. +On'y to sober me. Too drunk to speak porply. If you would be so kind, +darling. Green borle. [Edstaston, still suspicious, shakes his head and +keeps his pistols ready.] Reach it myself. [He reaches behind him up +to the table, and snatches at the green bottle, from which he takes a +copious draught. Its effect is appalling. His wry faces and agonized +belchings are so heartrending that they almost upset Edstaston. When the +victim at last staggers to his feet, he is a pale fragile nobleman, +aged and quite sober, extremely dignified in manner and address, though +shaken by his recent convulsions.] Young man, it is not better to be +drunk than sober; but it is happier. Goodness is not happiness. That is +an epigram. But I have overdone this. I am too sober to be good company. +Let me redress the balance. [He takes a generous draught of brandy, and +recovers his geniality.] Aha! That's better. And now listen, darling. +You must not come to Court with pistols in your boots. + +EDSTASTON. I have found them useful. + +PATIOMKIN. Nonsense. I'm your friend. You mistook my intention because +I was drunk. Now that I am sober--in moderation--I will prove that I +am your friend. Have some diamonds. [Roaring.] Hullo there! Dogs, pigs: +hullo! + +The Sergeant comes in. + +THE SERGEANT. God be praised, Little Father: you are still spared to us. + +PATIOMKIN. Tell them to bring some diamonds. Plenty of diamonds. And +rubies. Get out. [He aims a kick at the Sergeant, who flees.] Put up +your pistols, darling. I'll give you a pair with gold handgrips. I am +your friend. + +EDSTASTON [replacing the pistols in his boots rather unwillingly]. Your +Highness understands that if I am missing, or if anything happens to me, +there will be trouble. + +PATIOMKIN [enthusiastically]. Call me darling. + +EDSTASTON. It is not the English custom. + +PATIOMKIN. You have no hearts, you English! [Slapping his right breast.] +Heart! Heart! + +EDSTASTON. Pardon, your Highness: your heart is on the other side. + +PATIOMKIN [surprised and impressed]. Is it? You are learned! You are +a doctor! You English are wonderful! We are barbarians, drunken pigs. +Catherine does not know it; but we are. Catherine's a German. But I have +given her a Russian heart [he is about to slap himself again.] + +EDSTASTON [delicately]. The other side, your Highness. + +PATIOMKIN [maudlin]. Darling, a true Russian has a heart on both sides. + +The Sergeant enters carrying a goblet filled with precious stones. + +PATIOMKIN. Get out. [He snatches the goblet and kicks the Sergeant out, +not maliciously but from habit, indeed not noticing that he does it.] +Darling, have some diamonds. Have a fistful. [He takes up a handful and +lets them slip back through his fingers into the goblet, which he then +offers to Edstaston.] + +EDSTASTON. Thank you, I don't take presents. + +PATIOMKIN [amazed]. You refuse! + +EDSTASTON. I thank your Highness; but it is not the custom for English +gentlemen to take presents of that kind. + +PATIOMKIN. Are you really an Englishman? + +EDSTASTON [bows]! + +PATIOMKIN. You are the first Englishman I ever saw refuse anything +he could get. [He puts the goblet on the table; then turns again to +Edstaston.] Listen, darling. You are a wrestler: a splendid wrestler. +You threw me on my back like magic, though I could lift you with one +hand. Darling, you are a giant, a paladin. + +EDSTASTON [complacently]. We wrestle rather well in my part of England. + +PATIOMKIN. I have a Turk who is a wrestler: a prisoner of war. You shall +wrestle with him for me. I'll stake a million roubles on you. + +EDSTASTON [incensed]. Damn you! do you take me for a prize-fighter? How +dare you make me such a proposal? + +PATIOMKIN [with wounded feeling]. Darling, there is no pleasing you. +Don't you like me? + +EDSTASTON [mollified]. Well, in a sort of way I do; though I don't know +why I should. But my instructions are that I am to see the Empress; +and-- + +PATIOMKIN. Darling, you shall see the Empress. A glorious woman, the +greatest woman in the world. But lemme give you piece 'vice--pah! still +drunk. They water my vinegar. [He shakes himself; clears his throat; +and resumes soberly.] If Catherine takes a fancy to you, you may ask for +roubles, diamonds, palaces, titles, orders, anything! and you may aspire +to everything: field-marshal, admiral, minister, what you please--except +Tsar. + +EDSTASTON. I tell you I don't want to ask for anything. Do you suppose I +am an adventurer and a beggar? + +PATIOMKIN [plaintively]. Why not, darling? I was an adventurer. I was a +beggar. + +EDSTASTON. Oh, you! + +PATIOMKIN. Well: what's wrong with me? + +EDSTASTON. You are a Russian. That's different. + +PATIOMKIN [effusively]. Darling, I am a man; and you are a man; and +Catherine is a woman. Woman reduces us all to the common denominator. +[Chuckling.] Again an epigram! [Gravely.] You understand it, I hope. +Have you had a college education, darling? I have. + +EDSTASTON. Certainly. I am a Bachelor of Arts. + +PATIOMKIN. It is enough that you are a bachelor, darling: Catherine will +supply the arts. Aha! Another epigram! I am in the vein today. + +EDSTASTON [embarrassed and a little offended]. I must ask your Highness +to change the subject. As a visitor in Russia, I am the guest of the +Empress; and I must tell you plainly that I have neither the right nor +the disposition to speak lightly of her Majesty. + +PATIOMKIN. You have conscientious scruples? + +EDSTASTON. I have the scruples of a gentleman. + +PATIOMKIN. In Russia a gentleman has no scruples. In Russia we face +facts. + +EDSTASTON. In England, sir, a gentleman never faces any facts if they +are unpleasant facts. + +PATIOMKIN. In real life, darling, all facts are unpleasant. [Greatly +pleased with himself.] Another epigram! Where is my accursed chancellor? +these gems should be written down and recorded for posterity. [He rushes +to the table: sits down: and snatches up a pen. Then, recollecting +himself.] But I have not asked you to sit down. [He rises and goes to +the other chair.] I am a savage: a barbarian. [He throws the shirt and +coat over the table on to the floor and puts his sword on the table.] Be +seated, Captain. + +EDSTASTON Thank you. + +They bow to one another ceremoniously. Patiomkin's tendency to grotesque +exaggeration costs him his balance; he nearly falls over Edstaston, who +rescues him and takes the proffered chair. + +PATIOMKIN [resuming his seat]. By the way, what was the piece of advice +I was going to give you? + +EDSTASTON. As you did not give it, I don't know. Allow me to add that I +have not asked for your advice. + +PATIOMKIN. I give it to you unasked, delightful Englishman. I remember +it now. It was this. Don't try to become Tsar of Russia. + +EDSTASTON [in astonishment]. I haven't the slightest intention-- + +PATIOMKIN. Not now; but you will have: take my words for it. It will +strike you as a splendid idea to have conscientious scruples--to desire +the blessing of the Church on your union with Catherine. + +EDSTASTON [racing in utter amazement]. My union with Catherine! You're +mad. + +PATIOMKIN [unmoved]. The day you hint at such a thing will be the day of +your downfall. Besides, it is not lucky to be Catherine's husband. You +know what happened to Peter? + +EDSTASTON [shortly; sitting down again]. I do not wish to discuss it. + +PATIOMKIN. You think she murdered him? + +EDSTASTON. I know that people have said so. + +PATIOMKIN [thunderously; springing to his feet]. It is a lie: Orloff +murdered him. [Subsiding a little.] He also knocked my eye out; but +[sitting down placidly] I succeeded him for all that. And [patting +Edstaston's hand very affectionately] I'm sorry to say, darling, that if +you become Tsar, I shall murder you. + +EDSTASTON [ironically returning the caress]. Thank you. The occasion +will not arise. [Rising.] I have the honor to wish your Highness good +morning. + +PATIOMKIN [jumping up and stopping him on his way to the door]. Tut tut! +I'm going to take you to the Empress now, this very instant. + +EDSTASTON. In these boots? Impossible! I must change. + +PATIOMKIN. Nonsense! You shall come just as you are. You shall show her +your calves later on. + +EDSTASTON. But it will take me only half an hour to-- + +PATIOMKIN. In half an hour it will be too late for the petit lever. +Come along. Damn it, man, I must oblige the British ambassador, and the +French ambassador, and old Fritz, and Monsieur Voltaire and the rest of +them. [He shouts rudely to the door.] Varinka! [To Edstaston, with tears +in his voice.] Varinka shall persuade you: nobody can refuse Varinka +anything. My niece. A treasure, I assure you. Beautiful! devoted! +fascinating! [Shouting again.] Varinka, where the devil are you? + +VARINKA [returning]. I'll not be shouted for. You have the voice of a +bear, and the manners of a tinker. + +PATIOMKIN. Tsh-sh-sh. Little angel Mother: you must behave yourself +before the English captain. [He takes off his dressing-gown and throws +it over the papers and the breakfasts: picks up his coat: and disappears +behind the screen to complete his toilette.] + +EDSTASTON. Madam! [He bows.] + +VARINKA [courtseying]. Monsieur le Capitaine! + +EDSTASTON. I must apologize for the disturbance I made, madam. + +PATIOMKIN [behind the screen]. You must not call her madam. You must +call her Little Mother, and beautiful darling. + +EDSTASTON. My respect for the lady will not permit it. + +VARINKA. Respect! How can you respect the niece of a savage? + +EDSTASTON [deprecatingly]. Oh, madam! + +VARINKA. Heaven is my witness, Little English Father, we need someone +who is not afraid of him. He is so strong! I hope you will throw him +down on the floor many, many, many times. + +PATIOMKIN [behind the screen]. Varinka! + +VARINKA. Yes? + +PATIOMKIN. Go and look through the keyhole of the Imperial bed-chamber; +and bring me word whether the Empress is awake yet. + +VARINKA. Fi donc! I do not look through keyholes. + +PATIOMKIN [emerging, having arranged his shirt and put on his diamonded +coat]. You have been badly brought up, little darling. Would any lady or +gentleman walk unannounced into a room without first looking through the +keyhole? [Taking his sword from the table and putting it on.] The great +thing in life is to be simple; and the perfectly simple thing is to look +through keyholes. Another epigram: the fifth this morning! Where is my +fool of a chancellor? Where is Popof? + +EDSTASTON [choking with suppressed laughter]!!!! + +PATIOMKIN [gratified]. Darling, you appreciate my epigram. + +EDSTASTON. Excuse me. Pop off! Ha! ha! I can't help laughing: What's his +real name, by the way, in case I meet him? + +VARINKA [surprised]. His real name? Popof, of course. Why do you laugh, +Little Father? + +EDSTASTON. How can anyone with a sense of humor help laughing? Pop off! +[He is convulsed.] + +VARINKA [looking at her uncle, taps her forehead significantly]!! + +PATIOMKIN [aside to Varinka]. No: only English. He will amuse Catherine. +[To Edstaston.] Come, you shall tell the joke to the Empress: she is by +way of being a humorist [he takes him by the arm, and leads him towards +the door]. + +EDSTASTON [resisting]. No, really. I am not fit-- + +PATIOMKIN. Persuade him, Little angel Mother. + +VARINKA [taking his other arm]. Yes, yes, yes. Little English Father: +God knows it is your duty to be brave and wait on the Empress. Come. + +EDSTASTON. No. I had rather-- + +PATIOMKIN [hauling him along]. Come. + +VARINKA [pulling him and coaxing him]. Come, little love: you can't +refuse me. + +EDSTASTON. But how can I? + +PATIOMKIN. Why not? She won't eat you. + +VARINKA. She will; but you must come. + +EDSTASTON. I assure you--it is quite out of the question--my clothes-- + +VARINKA. You look perfect. + +PATIOMKIN. Come along, darling. + +EDSTASTON [struggling]. Impossible-- + +VARINKA. Come, come, come. + +EDSTASTON. No. Believe me--I don't wish--I-- + +VARINKA. Carry him, uncle. + +PATIOMKIN [lifting him in his arms like a father carrying a little boy]. +Yes: I'll carry you. + +EDSTASTON. Dash it all, this is ridiculous! + +VARINKA [seizing his ankles and dancing as he is carried out]. You must +come. If you kick you will blacken my eyes. + +PATIOMKIN. Come, baby, come. + +By this time they have made their way through the door and are out of +hearing. + + + + +THE SECOND SCENE + +The Empress's petit lever. The central doors are closed. Those who +enter through them find on their left, on a dais of two broad steps, a +magnificent curtained bed. Beyond it a door in the panelling leads to +the Empress's cabinet. Near the foot of the bed, in the middle of +the room, stands a gilt chair, with the Imperial arms carved and the +Imperial monogram embroidered. + +The Court is in attendance, standing in two melancholy rows down the +side of the room opposite to the bed, solemn, bored, waiting for the +Empress to awaken. The Princess Dashkoff, with two ladies, stands +a little in front of the line of courtiers, by the Imperial chair. +Silence, broken only by the yawns and whispers of the courtiers. +Naryshkin, the Chamberlain, stands by the head of the bed. + +A loud yawn is heard from behind the curtains. + +NARYSHKIN [holding up a warning hand]. Ssh! + +The courtiers hastily cease whispering: dress up their lines: and +stiffen. Dead silence. A bell tinkles within the curtains. Naryshkin and +the Princess solemnly draw them and reveal the Empress. + +Catherine turns over on her back, and stretches herself. + +CATHERINE [yawning]. Heigho--ah--yah--ah--ow--what o'clock is it? [Her +accent is German.] + +NARYSHKIN [formally]. Her Imperial Majesty is awake. [The Court falls on +its knees.] + +ALL. Good morning to your Majesty. + +NARYSHKIN. Half-past ten, Little Mother. + +CATHERINE [sitting up abruptly]. Potztausend! [Contemplating the +kneeling courtiers.] Oh, get up, get up. [All rise.] Your etiquette +bores me. I am hardly awake in the morning before it begins. [Yawning +again, and relapsing sleepily against her pillows.] Why do they do it, +Naryshkin? + +NARYSHKIN. God knows it is not for your sake, Little Mother. But you see +if you were not a great queen they would all be nobodies. + +CATHERINE [sitting up]. They make me do it to keep up their own little +dignities? So? + +NARYSHKIN. Exactly. Also because if they didn't you might have them +flogged, dear Little Mother. + +CATHERINE [springing energetically out of bed and seating herself on +the edge of it]. Flogged! I! A Liberal Empress! A philosopher! You are a +barbarian, Naryshkin. [She rises and turns to the courtiers.] And then, +as if I cared! [She turns again to Naryshkin.] You should know by this +time that I am frank and original in character, like an Englishman. [She +walks about restlessly.] No: what maddens me about all this ceremony +is that I am the only person in Russia who gets no fun out of my being +Empress. You all glory in me: you bask in my smiles: you get titles and +honors and favors from me: you are dazzled by my crown and my robes: you +feel splendid when you have been admitted to my presence; and when I +say a gracious word to you, you talk about it to everyone you meet for +a week afterwards. But what do I get out of it? Nothing. [She throws +herself into the chair. Naryshkin deprecates with a gesture; she hurls +an emphatic repetition at him.] Nothing!! I wear a crown until my neck +aches: I stand looking majestic until I am ready to drop: I have to +smile at ugly old ambassadors and frown and turn my back on young and +handsome ones. Nobody gives me anything. When I was only an Archduchess, +the English ambassador used to give me money whenever I wanted it--or +rather whenever he wanted to get anything out of my sacred predecessor +Elizabeth [the Court bows to the ground]; but now that I am Empress +he never gives me a kopek. When I have headaches and colics I envy the +scullerymaids. And you are not a bit grateful to me for all my care of +you, my work, my thought, my fatigue, my sufferings. + +THE PRINCESS DASHKOFF. God knows, Little Mother, we all implore you +to give your wonderful brain a rest. That is why you get headaches. +Monsieur Voltaire also has headaches. His brain is just like yours. + +CATHERINE. Dashkoff, what a liar you are! [Dashkoff curtsies with +impressive dignity.] And you think you are flattering me! Let me tell +you I would not give a rouble to have the brains of all the philosophers +in France. What is our business for today? + +NARYSHKIN. The new museum, Little Mother. But the model will not be +ready until tonight. + +CATHERINE [rising eagerly]. Yes, the museum. An enlightened capital +should have a museum. [She paces the chamber with a deep sense of the +importance of the museum.] It shall be one of the wonders of the world. +I must have specimens: specimens, specimens, specimens. + +NARYSHKIN. You are in high spirits this morning, Little Mother. + +CATHERINE [with sudden levity.] I am always in high spirits, even when +people do not bring me my slippers. [She runs to the chair and sits +down, thrusting her feet out.] + +The two ladies rush to her feet, each carrying a slipper. Catherine, +about to put her feet into them, is checked by a disturbance in the +antechamber. + +PATIOMKIN [carrying Edstaston through the antechamber]. Useless to +struggle. Come along, beautiful baby darling. Come to Little Mother. [He +sings.] + +March him baby, Baby, baby, Lit-tle ba-by bumpkins. + +VARINKA [joining in to the same doggerel in canon, a third above]. March +him, baby, etc., etc. + +EDSTASTON [trying to make himself heard]. No, no. This is carrying a +joke too far. I must insist. Let me down! Hang it, will you let me +down! Confound it! No, no. Stop playing the fool, will you? We don't +understand this sort of thing in England. I shall be disgraced. Let me +down. + +CATHERINE [meanwhile]. What a horrible noise! Naryshkin, see what it is. + +Naryshkin goes to the door. + +CATHERINE [listening]. That is Prince Patiomkin. + +NARYSHKIN [calling from the door]. Little Mother, a stranger. + +Catherine plunges into bed again and covers herself up. Patiomkin, +followed by Varinka, carries Edstaston in: dumps him down on the foot +of the bed: and staggers past it to the cabinet door. Varinka joins +the courtiers at the opposite side of the room. Catherine, blazing with +wrath, pushes Edstaston off her bed on to the floor: gets out of bed: +and turns on Patiomkin with so terrible an expression that all kneel +down hastily except Edstaston, who is sprawling on the carpet in angry +confusion. + +CATHERINE. Patiomkin, how dare you? [Looking at Edstaston.] What is +this? + +PATIOMKIN [on his knees, tearfully]. I don't know. I am drunk. What is +this, Varinka? + +EDSTASTON [scrambling to his feet]. Madam, this drunken ruffian-- + +PATIOMKIN. Thas true. Drungn ruffian. Took dvantage of my being drunk. +Said: take me to Lil angel Mother. Take me to beaufl Empress. Take me +to the grea'st woman on earth. Thas whas he he said. I took him. I was +wrong. I am not sober. + +CATHERINE. Men have grown sober in Siberia for less, Prince. + +PATIOMKIN. Serve em right! Sgusting habit. Ask Varinka. + +Catherine turns her face from him to the Court. The courtiers see that +she is trying not to laugh, and know by experience that she will not +succeed. They rise, relieved and grinning. + +VARINKA. It is true. He drinks like a pig. + +PATIOMKIN [plaintively]. No: not like pig. Like prince. Lil Mother made +poor Patiomkin prince. Whas use being prince if I mayn't drink? + +CATHERINE [biting her lips]. Go. I am offended. + +PATIOMKIN. Don't scold, Lil Mother. + +CATHERINE [imperiously]. Go. + +PATIOMKIN [rising unsteadily]. Yes: go. Go bye bye. Very sleepy. Berr go +bye bye than go Siberia. Go bye bye in Lil Mother's bed [he pretends to +make an attempt to get into the bed]. + +CATHERINE [energetically pulling him back]. No, no! Patiomkin! What +are you thinking of? [He falls like a log on the floor, apparently dead +drunk.] + +THE PRINCESS DASHKOFF. Scandalous! An insult to your Imperial Majesty! + +CATHERINE. Dashkoff: you have no sense of humor. [She steps down to the +door level and looks indulgently at Patiomkin. He gurgles brutishly. She +has an impulse of disgust.] Hog. [She kicks him as hard as she can.] Oh! +You have broken my toe. Brute. Beast. Dashkoff is quite right. Do you +hear? + +PATIOMKIN. If you ask my pi-pinion of Dashkoff, my pipinion is that +Dashkoff is drunk. Scanlous. Poor Patiomkin go bye bye. [He relapses +into drunken slumbers.] + +Some of the courtiers move to carry him away. + +CATHERINE [stopping them]. Let him lie. Let him sleep it off. If he +goes out it will be to a tavern and low company for the rest of the day. +[Indulgently.] There! [She takes a pillow from the bed and puts it under +his head: then turns to Edstaston: surveys him with perfect dignity: and +asks, in her queenliest manner.] Varinka, who is this gentleman? + +VARINKA. A foreign captain: I cannot pronounce his name. I think he is +mad. He came to the Prince and said he must see your Majesty. He can +talk of nothing else. We could not prevent him. + +EDSTASTON [overwhelmed by this apparent betrayal]. Oh! Madam: I am +perfectly sane: I am actually an Englishman. I should never have dreamt +of approaching your Majesty without the fullest credentials. I have +letters from the English ambassador, from the Prussian ambassador. +[Naively.] But everybody assured me that Prince Patiomkm is all-powerful +with your Majesty; so I naturally applied to him. + +PATIOMKIN [interrupts the conversation by an agonized wheezing groan as +of a donkey beginning to bray]!!! + +CATHERINE [like a fishfag]. Schweig, du Hund. [Resuming her impressive +royal manner.] Have you never been taught, sir, how a gentleman should +enter the presence of a sovereign? + +EDSTASTON. Yes, Madam; but I did not enter your presence: I was carried. + +CATHERINE. But you say you asked the Prince to carry you. + +EDSTASTON. Certainly not, Madam. I protested against it with all my +might. I appeal to this lady to confirm me. + +VARINKA [pretending to be indignant]. Yes, you protested. But, all the +same, you were very very very anxious to see her Imperial Majesty. +You blushed when the Prince spoke of her. You threatened to strike him +across the face with your sword because you thought he did not speak +enthusiastically enough of her. [To Catherine.] Trust me: he has seen +your Imperial Majesty before. + +CATHERINE [to Edstaston]. You have seen us before? + +EDSTASTON. At the review, Madam. + +VARINKA [triumphantly]. Aha! I knew it. Your Majesty wore the hussar +uniform. He saw how radiant! how splendid! your Majesty looked. Oh! he +has dared to admire your Majesty. Such insolence is not to be endured. + +EDSTASTON. All Europe is a party to that insolence, Madam. + +THE PRINCESS DASHKOFF. All Europe is content to do so at a respectful +distance. It is possible to admire her Majesty's policy and her eminence +in literature and philosophy without performing acrobatic feats in the +Imperial bed. + +EDSTASTON. I know nothing about her Majesty's eminence in policy or +philosophy: I don't pretend to understand such things. I speak as a +practical man. And I never knew that foreigners had any policy: I always +thought that policy was Mr. Pitt's business. + +CATHERINE [lifting her eyebrows]. So? + +VARINKA. What else did you presume to admire her Majesty for, pray? + +EDSTASTON [addled]. Well, I--I--I--that is, I--[He stammers himself +dumb.] + +CATHERINE [after a pitiless silence]. We are waiting for your answer. + +EDSTASTON. But I never said I admired your Majesty. The lady has twisted +my words. + +VARINKA. You don't admire her, then? + +EDSTASTON. Well, I--naturally--of course, I can't deny that the uniform +was very becoming--perhaps a little unfeminine--still--Dead silence. +Catherine and the Court watch him stonily. He is wretchedly embarrassed. + +CATHERINE [with cold majesty]. Well, sir: is that all you have to say? + +EDSTASTON. Surely there is no harm in noticing that er--that er--[He +stops again.] + +CATHERINE. Noticing that er--? [He gazes at her, speechless, like a +fascinated rabbit. She repeats fiercely.] That er--? + +EDSTASTON [startled into speech]. Well, that your Majesty +was--was--[soothingly] Well, let me put it this way: that it was rather +natural for a man to admire your Majesty without being a philosopher. + +CATHERINE [suddenly smiling and extending her hand to him to be kissed]. +Courtier! + +EDSTASTON [kissing it]. Not at all. Your Majesty is very good. I have +been very awkward; but I did not intend it. I am rather stupid, I am +afraid. + +CATHERINE. Stupid! By no means. Courage, Captain: we are pleased. [He +falls on his knee. She takes his cheeks in her hands: turns up his face: +and adds] We are greatly pleased. [She slaps his cheek coquettishly: he +bows almost to his knee.] The petit lever is over. [She turns to go into +the cabinet, and stumbles against the supine Patiomkin.] Ach! [Edstaston +springs to her assistance, seizing Patiomkin's heels and shifting him +out of the Empress's path.] We thank you, Captain. + +He bows gallantly and is rewarded by a very gracious smile. Then +Catherine goes into her cabinet, followed by the princess Dashkoff, who +turns at the door to make a deep courtsey to Edstaston. + +VARINKA. Happy Little Father! Remember: I did this for you. [She runs +out after the Empress.] + +Edstaston, somewhat dazed, crosses the room to the courtiers, and is +received with marked deference, each courtier making him a profound bow +or curtsey before withdrawing through the central doors. He returns +each obeisance with a nervous jerk, and turns away from it, only to find +another courtier bowing at the other side. The process finally reduced +him to distraction, as he bumps into one in the act of bowing to another +and then has to bow his apologies. But at last they are all gone except +Naryshkin. + +EDSTASTON. Ouf! + +PATIOMKIN [jumping up vigorously]. You have done it, darling. Superbly! +Beautifully! + +EDSTASTON [astonished]. Do you mean to say you are not drunk? + +PATIOMKIN. Not dead drunk, darling. Only diplomatically drunk. As a +drunken hog, I have done for you in five minutes what I could not have +done in five months as a sober man. Your fortune is made. She likes you. + +EDSTASTON. The devil she does! + +PATIOMKIN. Why? Aren't you delighted? + +EDSTASTON. Delighted! Gracious heavens, man, I am engaged to be married. + +PATIOMKIN. What matter? She is in England, isn't she? + +EDSTASTON. No. She has just arrived in St. Petersburg. + +THE PRINCESS DASHKOFF [returning]. Captain Edstaston, the Empress is +robed, and commands your presence. + +EDSTASTON. Say I was gone before you arrived with the message. [He +hurries out. The other three, too taken aback to stop him, stare after +him in the utmost astonishment.] + +NARYSHKIN [turning from the door]. She will have him knouted. He is a +dead man. + +THE PRINCESS DASHKOFF. But what am I to do? I cannot take such an answer +to the Empress. + +PATIOMKIN. P-P-P-P-P-P-W-W-W-W-W-rrrrrr [a long puff, turning into a +growl]! [He spits.] I must kick somebody. + +NARYSHKIN [flying precipitately through the central doors]. No, no. +Please. + +THE PRINCESS DASHKOFF [throwing herself recklessly in front of Patiomkin +as he starts in pursuit of the Chamberlain]. Kick me. Disable me. It +will be an excuse for not going back to her. Kick me hard. + +PATIOMKIN. Yah! [He flings her on the bed and dashes after Naryshkin.] + + + + +THE THIRD SCENE + +In a terrace garden overlooking the Neva. Claire, a robust young English +lady, is leaning on the river wall. She turns expectantly on hearing +the garden gate opened and closed. Edstaston hurries in. With a cry of +delight she throws her arms round his neck. + +CLAIRE. Darling! + +EDSTASTON [making a wry face]. Don't call me darling. + +CLAIRE [amazed and chilled]. Why? + +EDSTASTON. I have been called darling all the morning. + +CLAIRE [with a flash of jealousy]. By whom? + +EDSTASTON. By everybody. By the most unutterable swine. And if we do +not leave this abominable city now: do you hear? now; I shall be called +darling by the Empress. + +CLAIRE [with magnificent snobbery]. She would not dare. Did you tell her +you were engaged to me? + +EDSTASTON. Of course not. + +CLAIRE. Why? + +EDSTASTON. Because I didn't particularly want to have you knouted, and +to be hanged or sent to Siberia myself. + +CLAIRE. What on earth do you mean? + +EDSTASTON. Well, the long and short of it is--don't think me a coxcomb, +Claire: it is too serious to mince matters--I have seen the Empress; +and-- + +CLAIRE. Well, you wanted to see her. + +EDSTASTON. Yes; but the Empress has seen me. + +CLAIRE. She has fallen in love with you! + +EDSTASTON. How did you know? + +CLAIRE. Dearest: as if anyone could help it. + +EDSTASTON. Oh, don't make me feel like a fool. But, though it does sound +conceited to say it, I flatter myself I'm better looking than Patiomkin +and the other hogs she is accustomed to. Anyhow, I daren't risk staying. + +CLAIRE. What a nuisance! Mamma will be furious at having to pack, and at +missing the Court ball this evening. + +EDSTASTON. I can't help that. We haven't a moment to lose. + +CLAIRE. May I tell her she will be knouted if we stay? + +EDSTASTON. Do, dearest. + +He kisses her and lets her go, expecting her to run into the house. + +CLAIRE [pausing thoughtfully]. Is she--is she good-looking when you see +her close? + +EDSTASTON. Not a patch on you, dearest. + +CLAIRE [jealous]. Then you did see her close? + +EDSTASTON. Fairly close. + +CLAIRE. Indeed! How close? No: that's silly of me: I will tell mamma. +[She is going out when Naryshkin enters with the Sergeant and a squad of +soldiers.] What do you want here? + +The Sergeant goes to Edstaston: plumps down on his knees: and takes +out a magnificent pair of pistols with gold grips. He proffers them to +Edstaston, holding them by the barrels. + +NARYSHKIN. Captain Edstaston: his Highness Prince Patiomkin sends you +the pistols he promised you. + +THE SERGEANT. Take them, Little Father; and do not forget us poor +soldiers who have brought them to you; for God knows we get but little +to drink. + +EDSTASTON [irresolutely]. But I can't take these valuable things. By +Jiminy, though, they're beautiful! Look at them, Claire. + +As he is taking the pistols the kneeling Sergeant suddenly drops them; +flings himself forward; and embraces Edstaston's hips to prevent him +from drawing his own pistols from his boots. + +THE SERGEANT. Lay hold of him there. Pin his arms. I have his pistols. +[The soldiers seize Edstaston.] + +EDSTASTON. Ah, would you, damn you! [He drives his knee into the +Sergeant's epigastrium, and struggles furiously with his captors.] + +THE SERGEANT [rolling on the ground, gasping and groaning]. Owgh! +Murder! Holy Nicholas! Owwwgh! + +CLAIRE. Help! help! They are killing Charles. Help! + +NARYSHKIN [seizing her and clapping his hand over her mouth]. Tie +him neck and crop. Ten thousand blows of the stick if you let him go. +[Claire twists herself loose: turns on him: and cuffs him furiously.] +Yow--ow! Have mercy, Little Mother. + +CLAIRE. You wretch! Help! Help! Police! We are being murdered. Help! + +The Sergeant, who has risen, comes to Naryshkin's rescue, and grasps +Claire's hands, enabling Naryshkin to gag her again. By this time +Edstaston and his captors are all rolling on the ground together. They +get Edstaston on his back and fasten his wrists together behind his +knees. Next they put a broad strap round his ribs. Finally they pass a +pole through this breast strap and through the waist strap and lift him +by it, helplessly trussed up, to carry him of. Meanwhile he is by no +means suffering in silence. + +EDSTASTON [gasping]. You shall hear more of this. Damn you, will +you untie me? I will complain to the ambassador. I will write to the +Gazette. England will blow your trumpery little fleet out of the water +and sweep your tinpot army into Siberia for this. Will you let me +go? Damn you! Curse you! What the devil do you mean by it? +I'll--I'll--I'll-- [he is carried out of hearing]. + +NARYSHKIN [snatching his hands from Claire's face with a scream, and +shaking his finger frantically]. Agh! [The Sergeant, amazed, lets go her +hands.] She has bitten me, the little vixen. + +CLAIRE [spitting and wiping her mouth disgustedly]. How dare you put +your dirty paws on my mouth? Ugh! Psha! + +THE SERGEANT. Be merciful, Little angel Mother. + +CLAIRE. Do not presume to call me your little angel mother. Where are +the police? + +NARYSHKIN. We are the police in St Petersburg, little spitfire. + +THE SERGEANT. God knows we have no orders to harm you, Little Mother. +Our duty is done. You are well and strong; but I shall never be the same +man again. He is a mighty and terrible fighter, as stout as a bear. +He has broken my sweetbread with his strong knees. God knows poor folk +should not be set upon such dangerous adversaries! + +CLAIRE. Serve you right! Where have they taken Captain Edstaston to? + +NARYSHKIN [spitefully]. To the Empress, little beauty. He has insulted +the Empress. He will receive a hundred and one blows of the knout. [He +laughs and goes out, nursing his bitten finger.] + +THE SERGEANT. He will feel only the first twenty and he will be +mercifully dead long before the end, little darling. + +CLAIRE [sustained by an invincible snobbery]. They dare not touch an +English officer. I will go to the Empress myself: she cannot know who +Captain Edstaston is--who we are. + +THE SERGEANT. Do so in the name of the Holy Nicholas, little beauty. + +CLAIRE. Don't be impertinent. How can I get admission to the palace? + +THE SERGEANT. Everybody goes in and out of the palace, little love. + +CLAIRE. But I must get into the Empress's presence. I must speak to her. + +THE SERGEANT. You shall, dear Little Mother. You shall give the poor old +Sergeant a rouble; and the blessed Nicholas will make your salvation his +charge. + +CLAIRE [impetuously]. I will give you [she is about to say fifty +roubles, but checks herself cautiously]--Well: I don't mind giving you +two roubles if I can speak to the Empress. + +THE SERGEANT [joyfully]. I praise Heaven for you, Little Mother. Come. +[He leads the way out.] It was the temptation of the devil that led +your young man to bruise my vitals and deprive me of breath. We must be +merciful to one another's faults. + + + + +THE FOURTH SCENE + +A triangular recess communicating by a heavily curtained arch with the +huge ballroom of the palace. The light is subdued by red shades on the +candles. In the wall adjoining that pierced by the arch is a door. The +only piece of furniture is a very handsome chair on the arch side. In +the ballroom they are dancing a polonaise to the music of a brass band. + +Naryshkin enters through the door, followed by the soldiers carrying +Edstaston, still trussed to the pole. Exhausted and dogged, he makes no +sound. + +NARYSHKIN. Halt. Get that pole clear of the prisoner. [They dump +Edstaston on the floor and detach the pole. Naryshkin stoops over him +and addresses him insultingly.] Well! are you ready to be tortured? This +is the Empress's private torture chamber. Can I do anything to make you +quite comfortable? You have only to mention it. + +EDSTASTON. Have you any back teeth? + +NARYSHKIN [surprised]. Why? + +EDSTASTON. His Majesty King George the Third will send for six of them +when the news of this reaches London; so look out, damn your eyes! + +NARYSHKIN [frightened]. Oh, I assure you I am only obeying my orders. +Personally I abhor torture, and would save you if I could. But the +Empress is proud; and what woman would forgive the slight you put upon +her? + +EDSTASTON. As I said before: Damn your eyes! + +NARYSHKIN [almost in tears]. Well, it isn't my fault. [To the soldiers, +insolently.] You know your orders? You remember what you have to do when +the Empress gives you the word? [The soldiers salute in assent.] + +Naryshkin passes through the curtains, admitting a blare of music and +a strip of the brilliant white candlelight from the chandeliers in +the ballroom as he does so. The white light vanishes and the music is +muffled as the curtains fall together behind him. Presently the band +stops abruptly: and Naryshkin comes back through the curtains. He makes +a warning gesture to the soldiers, who stand at attention. Then he +moves the curtain to allow Catherine to enter. She is in full Imperial +regalia, and stops sternly just where she has entered. The soldiers fall +on their knees. + +CATHERINE. Obey your orders. + +The soldiers seize Edstaston, and throw him roughly at the feet of the +Empress. + +CATHERINE [looking down coldly on him]. Also [the German word], you have +put me to the trouble of sending for you twice. You had better have come +the first time. + +EDSTASTON [exsufflicate, and pettishly angry]. I haven't come either +time. I've been carried. I call it infernal impudence. + +CATHERINE. Take care what you say. + +EDSTASTON. No use. I daresay you look very majestic and very handsome; +but I can't see you; and I am not intimidated. I am an Englishman; and +you can kidnap me; but you can't bully me. + +NARYSHKIN. Remember to whom you are speaking. + +CATHERINE [violently, furious at his intrusion]. Remember that dogs +should be dumb. [He shrivels.] And do you, Captain, remember that famous +as I am for my clemency, there are limits to the patience even of an +Empress. + +EDSTASTON. How is a man to remember anything when he is trussed up +in this ridiculous fashion? I can hardly breathe. [He makes a futile +struggle to free himself.] Here: don't be unkind, your Majesty: tell +these fellows to unstrap me. You know you really owe me an apology. + +CATHERINE. You think you can escape by appealing, like Prince Patiomkin, +to my sense of humor? + +EDSTASTON. Sense of humor! Ho! Ha, ha! I like that. Would anybody with +a sense of humor make a guy of a man like this, and then expect him to +take it seriously? I say: do tell them to loosen these straps. + +CATHERINE [seating herself]. Why should I, pray? + +EDSTASTON. Why! Why! Why, because they're hurting me. + +CATHERINE. People sometimes learn through suffering. Manners, for +instance. + +EDSTASTON. Oh, well, of course, if you're an ill-natured woman, hurting +me on purpose, I have nothing more to say. + +CATHERINE. A monarch, sir, has sometimes to employ a necessary, and +salutary severity-- + +EDSTASTON [Interrupting her petulantly]. Quack! quack! quack! + +CATHERINE. Donnerwetter! + +EDSTASTON [continuing recklessly]. This isn't severity: it's tomfoolery. +And if you think it's reforming my character or teaching me anything, +you're mistaken. It may be a satisfaction to you; but if it is, all I +can say is that it's not an amiable satisfaction. + +CATHERINE [turning suddenly and balefully on Naryshkin]. What are you +grinning at? + +NARYSHKIN [falling on his knees in terror]. Be merciful, Little Mother. +My heart is in my mouth. + +CATHERINE. Your heart and your mouth will be in two separate parts of +your body if you again forget in whose presence you stand. Go. And take +your men with you. [Naryshkin crawls to the door. The soldiers rise.] +Stop. Roll that [indicating Edstaston] nearer. [The soldiers obey.] Not +so close. Did I ask you for a footstool? [She pushes Edstaston away with +her foot.] + +EDSTASTON [with a sudden squeal]. Agh!!! I must really ask your +Majesty not to put the point of your Imperial toe between my ribs. I am +ticklesome. + +CATHERINE. Indeed? All the more reason for you to treat me with respect, +Captain. [To the others.] Begone. How many times must I give an order +before it is obeyed? + +NARYSHKIN. Little Mother: they have brought some instruments of torture. +Will they be needed? + +CATHERINE [indignantly]. How dare you name such abominations to a +Liberal Empress? You will always be a savage and a fool, Naryshkin. +These relics of barbarism are buried, thank God, in the grave of Peter +the Great. My methods are more civilized. [She extends her toe towards +Edstaston's ribs.] + +EDSTASTON [shrieking hysterically]. Yagh! Ah! [Furiously.] If your +Majesty does that again I will write to the London Gazette. + +CATHERINE [to the soldiers]. Leave us. Quick! do you hear? Five thousand +blows of the stick for the soldier who is in the room when I speak +next. [The soldiers rush out.] Naryshkin: are you waiting to be knouted? +[Naryshkin backs out hastily.] + +Catherine and Edstaston are now alone. Catherine has in her hand a +sceptre or baton of gold. Wrapped round it is a new pamphlet, in French, +entitled L'Homme aux Quarante Ecus. She calmly unrolls this and begins +to read it at her ease as if she were quite alone. Several seconds +elapse in dead silence. She becomes more and more absorbed in the +pamphlet, and more and more amused by it. + +CATHERINE [greatly pleased by a passage, and turning over the leaf]. +Ausgezeiehnet! + +EDSTASTON. Ahem! + +Silence. Catherine reads on. + +CATHERINE. Wie komisch! + +EDSTASTON. Ahem! ahem! + +Silence. + +CATHERINE [soliloquizing enthusiastically]. What a wonderful author is +Monsieur Voltaire! How lucidly he exposes the folly of this crazy plan +for raising the entire revenue of the country from a single tax on land! +how he withers it with his irony! how he makes you laugh whilst he is +convincing you! how sure one feels that the proposal is killed by his +wit and economic penetration: killed never to be mentioned again among +educated people! + +EDSTASTON. For Heaven's sake, Madam, do you intend to leave me tied up +like this while you discuss the blasphemies of that abominable infidel? +Agh!! [She has again applied her toe.] Oh! Oo! + +CATHERINE [calmly]. Do I understand you to say that Monsieur Voltaire is +a great philanthropist and a great philosopher as well as the wittiest +man in Europe? + +EDSTASTON. Certainly not. I say that his books ought to be burnt by +the common hangman [her toe touches his ribs]. Yagh! Oh don't. I shall +faint. I can't bear it. + +CATHERINE. Have you changed your opinion of Monsieur Voltaire? + +EDSTASTON. But you can't expect me as a member of the Church of England +[she tickles him] --agh! Ow! Oh Lord! he is anything you like. He is a +philanthropist, a philosopher, a beauty: he ought to have a statue, damn +him! [she tickles him]. No! bless him! save him victorious, happy and +glorious! Oh, let eternal honors crown his name: Voltaire thrice worthy +on the rolls of fame! [Exhausted.] Now will you let me up? And look +here! I can see your ankles when you tickle me: it's not ladylike. + +CATHERINE [sticking out her toe and admiring it critically]. Is the +spectacle so disagreeable? + +EDSTASTON. It's agreeable enough; only [with intense expression] for +heaven's sake don't touch me in the ribs. + +CATHERINE [putting aside the pamphlet]. Captain Edstaston, why did you +refuse to come when I sent for you? + +EDSTASTON. Madam, I cannot talk tied up like this. + +CATHERINE. Do you still admire me as much as you did this morning? + +EDSTASTON. How can I possibly tell when I can't see you? Let me get up +and look. I can't see anything now except my toes and yours. + +CATHERINE. Do you still intend to write to the London Gazette about me? + +EDSTASTON. Not if you will loosen these straps. Quick: loosen me. I'm +fainting. + +CATHERINE. I don't think you are [tickling him]. + +EDSTASTON. Agh! Cat! + +CATHERINE. What [she tickles him again]. + +EDSTASTON [with a shriek]. No: angel, angel! + +CATHERINE [tenderly]. Geliebter! + +EDSTASTON. I don't know a word of German; but that sounded kind. +[Becoming hysterical.] Little Mother, beautiful little darling angel +mother: don't be cruel: untie me. Oh, I beg and implore you. Don't be +unkind. I shall go mad. + +CATHERINE. You are expected to go mad with love when an Empress deigns +to interest herself in you. When an Empress allows you to see her foot +you should kiss it. Captain Edstaston, you are a booby. + +EDSTASTON [indignantly]. I am nothing of the kind. I have been mentioned +in dispatches as a highly intelligent officer. And let me warn your +Majesty that I am not so helpless as you think. The English Ambassador +is in that ballroom. A shout from me will bring him to my side; and then +where will your Majesty be? + +CATHERINE. I should like to see the English Ambassador or anyone else +pass through that curtain against my orders. It might be a stone wall +ten feet thick. Shout your loudest. Sob. Curse. Scream. Yell [she +tickles him unmercifully]. + +EDSTASTON [frantically]. Ahowyou!!!! Agh! oh! Stop! Oh Lord! Ya-a-a-ah! +[A tumult in the ballroom responds to his cries]. + +VOICES FROM THE BALLROOM. Stand back. You cannot pass. Hold her back +there. The Empress's orders. It is out of the question. No, little +darling, not in there. Nobody is allowed in there. You will be sent to +Siberia. Don't let her through there, on your life. Drag her back. You +will be knouted. It is hopeless, Mademoiselle: you must obey orders. +Guard there! Send some men to hold her. + +CLAIRE'S VOICE. Let me go. They are torturing Charles in there. I WILL +go. How can you all dance as if nothing was happening? Let me go, I tell +you. Let--me--go. [She dashes through the curtain, no one dares follow +her.] + +CATHERINE [rising in wrath]. How dare you? + +CLAIRE [recklessly]. Oh, dare your grandmother! Where is my Charles? +What are they doing to him? + +EDSTASTON [shouting]. Claire, loosen these straps, in Heaven's name. +Quick. + +CLAIRE [seeing him and throwing herself on her knees at his side]. Oh, +how dare they tie you up like that! [To Catherine.] You wicked wretch! +You Russian savage! [She pounces on the straps, and begins unbuckling +them.] + +CATHERINE [conquering herself with a mighty effort]. Now self-control. +Self-control, Catherine. Philosophy. Europe is looking on. [She forces +herself to sit down.] + +EDSTASTON. Steady, dearest: it is the Empress. Call her your Imperial +Majesty. Call her Star of the North, Little Mother, Little Darling: +that's what she likes; but get the straps off. + +CLAIRE. Keep quiet, dear: I cannot get them off if you move. + +CATHERINE [calmly]. Keep quite still, Captain [she tickles him.] + +EDSTASTON. Ow! Agh! Ahowyow! + +CLAIRE [stopping dead in the act of unbuckling the straps and turning +sick with jealousy as she grasps the situation]. Was THAT what I thought +was your being tortured? + +CATHERINE [urbanely]. That is the favorite torture of Catherine the +Second, Mademoiselle. I think the Captain enjoys it very much. + +CLAIRE. Then he can have as much more of it as he wants. I am sorry I +intruded. [She rises to go.] + +EDSTASTON [catching her train in his teeth and holding on like a +bull-dog]. Don't go. Don't leave me in this horrible state. Loosen me. +[This is what he is saying: but as he says it with the train in his +mouth it is not very intelligible.] + +CLAIRE. Let go. You are undignified and ridiculous enough yourself +without making me ridiculous. [She snatches her train away.] + +EDSTASTON. Ow! You've nearly pulled my teeth out: you're worse than the +Star of the North. [To Catherine.] Darling Little Mother: you have a +kind heart, the kindest in Europe. Have pity. Have mercy. I love you. +[Claire bursts into tears.] Release me. + +CATHERINE. Well, just to show you how much kinder a Russian savage can +be than an English one (though I am sorry to say I am a German) here +goes! [She stoops to loosen the straps.] + +CLAIRE [jealously]. You needn't trouble, thank you. [She pounces on +the straps: and the two set Edstaston free between them.] Now get up, +please; and conduct yourself with some dignity if you are not utterly +demoralized. + +EDSTASTON. Dignity! Ow! I can't. I'm stiff all over. I shall never be +able to stand up again. Oh Lord! how it hurts! [They seize him by the +shoulders and drag him up.] Yah! Agh! Wow! Oh! Mmmmmm! Oh, Little Angel +Mother, don't ever do this to a man again. Knout him; kill him; roast +him; baste him; head, hang, and quarter him; but don't tie him up like +that and tickle him. + +CATHERINE. Your young lady still seems to think that you enjoyed it. + +CLAIRE. I know what I think. I will never speak to him again. Your +Majesty can keep him, as far as I am concerned. + +CATHERINE. I would not deprive you of him for worlds; though really I +think he's rather a darling [she pats his cheek]. + +CLAIRE [snorting]. So I see, indeed. + +EDSTASTON. Don't be angry, dearest: in this country everybody's a +darling. I'll prove it to you. [To Catherine.] Will your Majesty be good +enough to call Prince Patiomkin? + +CATHERINE [surprised into haughtiness]. Why? + +EDSTASTON. To oblige me. + +Catherine laughs good-humoredly and goes to the curtains and opens them. +The band strikes up a Redowa. + +CATHERINE [calling imperiously]. Patiomkin! [The music stops suddenly.] +Here! To me! Go on with your music there, you fools. [The Redowa is +resumed.] + +The sergeant rushes from the ballroom to relieve the Empress of the +curtain. Patiomkin comes in dancing with Yarinka. + +CATHERINE [to Patiomkin]. The English captain wants you, little darling. + +Catherine resumes her seat as Patiomkin intimates by a grotesque bow +that he is at Edstaston's service. Yarinka passes behind Edstaston and +Claire, and posts herself on Claire's right. + +EDSTASTON. Precisely. [To Claire. ] You observe, my love: "little +darling." Well, if her Majesty calls him a darling, is it my fault that +she calls me one too? + +CLAIRE. I don't care: I don't think you ought to have done it. I am very +angry and offended. + +EDSTASTON. They tied me up, dear. I couldn't help it. I fought for all I +was worth. + +THE SERGEANT [at the curtains]. He fought with the strength of lions and +bears. God knows I shall carry a broken sweetbread to my grave. + +EDSTASTON. You can't mean to throw me over, Claire. [Urgently.] Claire. +Claire. + +VARINKA [in a transport of sympathetic emotion, pleading with clasped +hands to Claire]. Oh, sweet little angel lamb, he loves you: it shines +in his darling eyes. Pardon him, pardon him. + +PATIOMKIN [rushing from the Empress's side to Claire and falling on his +knees to her]. Pardon him, pardon him, little cherub! little wild duck! +little star! little glory! little jewel in the crown of heaven! + +CLAIRE. This is perfectly ridiculous. + +VARINKA [kneeling to her]. Pardon him, pardon him, little delight, +little sleeper in a rosy cradle. + +CLAIRE. I'll do anything if you'll only let me alone. + +THE SERGEANT [kneeling to her]. Pardon him, pardon him, lest the mighty +man bring his whip to you. God knows we all need pardon! + +CLAIRE [at the top of her voice]. I pardon him! I pardon him! + +PATIOMKIN [springing up joyfully and going behind Claire, whom he raises +in his arms]. Embrace her, victor of Bunker's Hill. Kiss her till she +swoons. + +THE SERGEANT. Receive her in the name of the holy Nicholas. + +VARINKA. She begs you for a thousand dear little kisses all over her +body. + +CLAIRE [vehemently]. I do not. [Patiomkin throws her into Edstaston's +arms.] Oh! [The pair, awkward and shamefaced, recoil from one another, +and remain utterly inexpressive.] + +CATHERINE [pushing Edstaston towards Claire]. There is no help for it, +Captain. This is Russia, not England. + +EDSTASTON [plucking up some geniality, and kissing Claire ceremoniously +on the brow]. I have no objection. + +VARINKA [disgusted]. Only one kiss! and on the forehead! Fish. See how I +kiss, though it is only my horribly ugly old uncle [she throws her arms +round Patiomkin's neck and covers his face with kisses]. + +THE SERGEANT [moved to tears]. Sainted Nicholas: bless your lambs! + +CATHERINE. Do you wonder now that I love Russia as I love no other place +on earth? + +NARYSHKIN [appearing at the door]. Majesty: the model for the new museum +has arrived. + +CATHERINE [rising eagerly and making for the curtains]. Let us go. I can +think of nothing but my museum. [In the archway she stops and turns to +Edstaston, who has hurried to lift the curtain for her.] Captain, I wish +you every happiness that your little angel can bring you. [For his +ear alone.] I could have brought you more; but you did not think so. +Farewell. + +EDSTASTON [kissing her hand, which, instead of releasing, he holds +caressingly and rather patronizingly in his own]. I feel your Majesty's +kindness so much that I really cannot leave you without a word of plain +wholesome English advice. + +CATHERINE [snatching her hand away and bounding forward as if he had +touched her with a spur]. Advice!!! + +PATIOMKIN. Madman: take care! + +NARYSHKIN. Advise the Empress!! + +THE SERGEANT. Sainted Nicholas! + +VARINKA. Hoo hoo! [a stifled splutter of laughter]. + +EDSTASTON [following the Empress and resuming kindly but judicially]. +After all, though your Majesty is of course a great queen, yet when all +is said, I am a man; and your Majesty is only a woman. + +CATHERINE. Only a wo-- [she chokes]. + +EDSTASTON [continuing]. Believe me, this Russian extravagance will not +do. I appreciate as much as any man the warmth of heart that prompts it; +but it is overdone: it is hardly in the best taste: it is really I must +say it--it is not proper. + +CATHERINE [ironically, in German]. So! + +EDSTASTON. Not that I cannot make allowances. Your Majesty has, I know, +been unfortunate in your experience as a married woman-- + +CATHERINE [furious]. Alle Wetter!!! + +EDSTASTON [sentimentally]. Don't say that. Don't think of him in that +way. After all, he was your husband; and whatever his faults may have +been, it is not for you to think unkindly of him. + +CATHERINE [almost bursting]. I shall forget myself. + +EDSTASTON. Come! I am sure he really loved you; and you truly loved him. + +CATHERINE [controlling herself with a supreme effort]. No, Catherine. +What would Voltaire say? + +EDSTASTON. Oh, never mind that vile scoffer. Set an example to Europe, +Madam, by doing what I am going to do. Marry again. Marry some good man +who will be a strength and support to your old age. + +CATHERINE. My old--[she again becomes speechless]. + +EDSTASTON. Yes: we must all grow old, even the handsomest of us. + +CATHERINE [sinking into her chair with a gasp]. Thank you. + +EDSTASTON. You will thank me more when you see your little ones round +your knee, and your man there by the fireside in the winter evenings--by +the way, I forgot that you have no fireside here in spite of the +coldness of the climate; so shall I say by the stove? + +CATHERINE. Certainly, if you wish. The stove by all means. + +EDSTASTON [impulsively]. Ah, Madam, abolish the stove: believe me, there +is nothing like the good old open grate. Home! duty! happiness! they +all mean the same thing; and they all flourish best on the drawing-room +hearthrug. [Turning to Claire.] And now, my love, we must not detain the +Queen: she is anxious to inspect the model of her museum, to which I am +sure we wish every success. + +CLAIRE [coldly]. I am not detaining her. + +EDSTASTON. Well, goodbye [wringing Patiomkin's hand] goo-oo-oodbye, +Prince: come and see us if ever you visit England. Spire View, Deepdene, +Little Mugford, Devon, will always find me. [To Yarinka, kissing her +hand.] Goodbye, Mademoiselle: goodbye, Little Mother, if I may call you +that just once. [Varinka puts up her face to be kissed.] Eh? No, no, no, +no: you don't mean that, you know. Naughty! [To the Sergeant.] Goodbye, +my friend. You will drink our healths with this [tipping him]. + +THE SERGEANT. The blessed Nicholas will multiply your fruits, Little +Father. + +EDSTASTON. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. + +He goes out backwards, bowing, with Claire curtseying, having been +listened to in utter dumbfoundedness by Patiomkin and Naryshkin, in +childlike awe by Yarinka, and with quite inexpressible feelings by +Catherine. When he is out of sight she rises with clinched fists and +raises her arms and her closed eyes to Heaven. Patiomkin: rousing +himself from his stupor of amazement, springs to her like a tiger, and +throws himself at her feet. + +PATIOMKIN. What shall I do to him for you? Skin him alive? Cut off his +eyelids and stand him in the sun? Tear his tongue out? What shall it be? + +CATHERINE [opening her eyes]. Nothing. But oh, if I could only have had +him for my--for my--for my-- + +PATIOMKIN [in a growl of jealousy]. For your lover? + +CATHERINE [with an ineffable smile]. No: for my museum. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Great Catherine, by George Bernard Shaw + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREAT CATHERINE *** + +***** This file should be named 3488.txt or 3488.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/8/3488/ + +Produced by Eve Sobol + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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