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Authors: Vladimir Nabokov,Thomas Karshan,Anastasia Tolstoy

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BOOK: The Tragedy of Mister Morn
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The muzzle’s cold, like the
lacquer tube

applied by a doctor: he breathes in, he listens …

and his bald pate and the tube rise up

in rhythm with my chest …

No, wait!

That is not how people shoot themselves …

This needs to be thought through … One. Two.

Three. Four. Five. Six. Six steps from the chair

to the window. The snow shines. How starry

is the sky! God, give me strength,

give me strength, I beg you—give me strength …

There sleeps my city, all in hoar-frost,

all in a blue shroud. O, my dear! … Farewell,

forgive me … I ruled for four years … created

an age of happiness, an age of harmony … God,

give me strength … Playfully, lightly I ruled;

I appeared in a black mask in the ringing hall,

before my cold, decrepit senators … masterfully

I revived them—and left again, laughing …

laughing … And sometimes, in patched-up clothes,

I sat in a tavern and grunted with the ruddy

drunken coachmen; a dog would wag its tail

under the table, and a girl would tug me

by the sleeve, though I looked like a pauper …

Four years passed, and now, in the radiant noon

of my life, I must abandon my kingdom, must

jump from the throne to death—O, God,—all

because I kissed a shallow woman and struck

a foolish adversary! I could have had him …

O conscience, conscience—the cold angel

at the back of thought: thought turns—there’s

no one there; but behind, it rises up again.

Enough! I must, must die! O, if only

it could not be so, not so, but in sight

of the world, in the hot storm of battle,

to the thunder of hooves, atop a sweaty steed,

so as to greet death with an immortal cry

and gallop headlong through the sky into

heaven’s yard, where the splash of water

can be heard, and a seraph scrubs the horse

of St. George! Yes, death would be rapture then! …

But here I am—alone … only candle flame—

a thousand-eyed spy—watches from under

the suspicious mirrors … But I must die!

There is no glory—there is eternity

and man … What’s this crown for? It digs

into my temples, damned thing! Off with it!

Like so … like so … roll across the dark carpet,

like a wheel of fire … Now quickly! Don’t think!

Plunge reason in icy water! One movement:

press the curved trigger … One movement …

How many times have I pressed door handles,

the buttons of doorbells … And now … And now …

I don’t know how! My finger on the trigger

is weaker than a worm … What’s a kingdom to me?

What’s valour? To live, only to live … O, God!

Edmin!

[
approaches the door; calls out like a child
]

Edmin!

[
EDMIN
enters
.
MORN
stands with his back to him
.]
I can’t …
[
Pause
.]
Why do you

stand there, why do you look at me? Or,

perhaps, you think that I’m a … Listen, here,

I’ll explain … Edmin, you understand … I love her …

I love Midia! My kingdom and my soul

I am prepared to yield, if only not

to part from her! My friend, listen, do not

blame me … do not blame me …

EDMIN:

My sovereign, I’m happy …

You are my hero … I’m not even worthy …

MORN:

Really?

Really? … Well then … I’m pleased … Earthly love

is higher, stronger, than heavenly valour … Though you,

Edmin, don’t love … you cannot understand

that a man is capable of burning worlds

for a woman … So then—it is decided.

I’ll flee from here … there is no other way.

For in truth—I ruled without a care.

Such carelessness is power. That has gone.

Oh, how can I rule, when the Devil himself

has melted the crown on my poor head?

I’ll disappear … You understand, I’ll disappear,

I’ll quietly live out the rest of my strange life

to the secret tune of my royal memories.

Midia will be with me … Why do you keep silent?

Am I not right? Midia will die without me …

You know that.

EDMIN:

My sovereign, I ask but

one thing: an agonizing request, a crime

against my native land … though it be!

I beseech you: take me with you …

MORN:

O, how you love me, how you love, dear friend! …

I have not the power to refuse you … I am

a criminal myself. Listen, do you remember

how I came to power? I came out in a mask

and mantle on the golden balcony,—it was

windy, it smelled, for some reason, of the sea,

and the mantle kept slipping off, and from behind

you righted it … But, why do I … Quickly

time is running on … there is this will here …

How to change it? … What shall we do? How

to act? In it, I write that … Burn it! Burn it!

Thankfully the candles are lit. Quick! Meanwhile,

I’ll compose a different one … But how? My mind

is empty. I move my quill as if on water …

Edmin, I don’t know. Advise me—we must hurry,

to finish by sunrise … What’s wrong?

EDMIN:

Footsteps … They’re

coming here … Along the gallery …

MORN:

Quick!

Put out the lights! We’ll have to go through

the window—oh, hurry! I can’t meet with anyone …

Come what may … What shall I take? Yes,

the pistol … put them out … put them out … the

papers …

the diamonds … right. Fling it open! Hurry …

My trenchcoat has caught—wait. Ready! Jump! …

[
They leave. Darkness onstage. An
OLD MAN
in livery, stooping, comes in with a candle in his hand
.]

OLD MAN:

Looks like somebody’s been messing about in here …

A burning smell. Table’s out of place … Hark you now—

Look where they’ve thrown the crown. Ptfu … Ptfu …

Shine …

I’ll rub you … And there—that casement’s wide open.

That won’t do … Let’s have a listen at the door.

[
Sleepily he crosses the stage and listens
.]

The rascal’s asleep … the master sleeps. For

it’s gone four, I dare say … O, Lord Jesus!

Oh, how my bones ache, how they ache! Cook

shoved some ointment at me,—says, try it,

rub some on … Try arguing … That’s all I need …

Old age isn’t some ugly mug daubed on

a fence, you can’t just paint over it …

[
And, muttering, he exits
.]
CURTAIN
Scene II

The same stage set as in the previous scene: the King’s study. Only now the carpet is torn in places and one of the mirrors is broken. Four of the
REBELS
,
seated. Early morning. In the window the sun is visible, and there is a bright thaw
.

FIRST REBEL:

The firing at the western gate still opens

wide its swift embraces, so as to catch—

now a soul, now a melody, now the ringing

of glass … smoke rises from the houses still,

from the hunched ruins of the senate, the museum

of coins, the museum of banners, the museum

of old statues … We are tired … All night long—

work, tumult … It must be past seven already …

What a morning! The senate blazed, like a torch …

We’re tired, confused … Where’s Tremens rushing us?

SECOND REBEL:

The draughty skeleton has clothed itself in flesh

and fire. It’s come to life. It rubs its hands.

The mob gleefully tears open the cellars, marvels

at the fires … I don’t know, don’t know, brothers,

what he’s planning …

THIRD REBEL:

Not so, not so, did we

once think to make our homeland happy … I regret

the sleepless nights of exile …

FIRST REBEL:

He is mad!

He ordered that the flying machines be burned

so as to entertain the drunkards! But some

nameless heroes came along, and grabbed

the controls just in time …

FOURTH REBEL:

This order here,

that I am copying out, is terrifying

in its tigerish playfulness …

SECOND REBEL:

Quiet …

Here comes his son-in-law …

[
KLIAN
enters hurriedly
.]

KLIAN:

Splendid news!

In the suburbs the merry crowd’s blown up

a school; satchels and rulers are scattered across

the square; about three hundred little mites

perished. Tremens is very pleased.

THIRD REBEL:

He’s …

pleased! Brothers, brothers, do you hear?

He’s pleased! … 30

KLIAN:

Well, then, I’ll inform the leader

that my news did not much please you …

Everything, I shall report everything!

SECOND REBEL:

We say

that Tremens is wiser than us: he knows his goal.

As it says in your last ode, he is a genius.

KLIAN:

Yes. He is worthy of entering the thunders

of my melodies. Nonetheless … the sun …

dazzles my eyes.

[
Looks out of the window
.]
Ah—there’s that traitor,

Ganus! There, between the soldiers, standing

at the barriers: they’re laughing. They have

let him through. There he goes across

the melting snow.

FIRST REBEL
[
watching
]:

How pale he is!

Our former friend is unrecognizable!

Everything about him—his gaze, his pursed lips—

reminds one of the saints in stained glass …

They say his wife has fled …

SECOND REBEL:

Was there a lover?

FIRST REBEL:

I don’t think so.

FOURTH REBEL:

Rumour has it that one day

he came to his wife, and on the table there was

a note, that come what may she had decided

to go, alone, back to her family … Klian,

what’s so funny about that?

KLIAN:

I shall report

everything! Here you are, spinning rumours,

like old women, whilst Tremens thinks that

you are working … There are fires out there,

they need to be fanned, whilst you … I’ll report

everything, everything …

[
GANUS
stops in the doorway
.]
Ah! Noble Ganus …

Most welcome Ganus … We were waiting for you …

We’re glad to see you … Please …

FIRST REBEL:

Our Ganus …

SECOND REBEL:

Greetings, Ganus …

THIRD REBEL:

Do you not recognize us?

Your friends? Four years … together … in exile …

BOOK: The Tragedy of Mister Morn
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