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C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

From ‘Mindowe’

By Juliusz Słowacki (1809–1849)

  • From ‘Poets and Poetry of Poland,’ edited by Paul Soboleski
  • [Mindowe, king of Litwania, having embraced the Christian religion, his blind mother Ronelva and his nephew Troinace conspire to effect his death. Mindowe has banished Lawski, the prince of Nalzhaski, and essayed to win the affections of his wife. Lawski, not having been heard of for some time, is supposed to be dead. The scene opens just after the baptismal rites of the monarch.]


  • Scene: The royal presence chamber.Enter Casimir and Basil, from different sides

    BASIL—Saw you the rites to-day, my Casimir?

    Casimir—I saw what may I never see again,—

    The altars of our ancient faith torn down,

    Our king a base apostate, groveling

    Beneath a—
    Basil[interrupting him]—Hold! knowest thou not

    The ancient saw that “Palace walls have ears”?

    The priests throng round us like intruding flies,

    And latitude of speech is fatal.
    Casimir—True—

    I should speak cautiously. But hast seen

    The prince?
    Basil—Who? Troinace?
    Casimir—The same.

    Ha! here he comes, and with the queen-mother;

    It is not safe to parley in their presence. Hence

    Along with me: I’ve secrets for thine ear.[Exit Casimir and Basil.]

    Ronelva enters, leaning upon the arm of Troinace, and engaged with him in conversation.
    Troinace—Thou hast a son, Ronelva, crowned a king!

    Ronelva—Is he alive? with sight my memory fails.

    Once I beheld the world, but now ’tis dark—

    My soul is locked in sleep—O God! O God!

    My son! hast seen my royal son—the King,

    Thy uncle, Troinace? How is he arrayed?

    Troinace—In regal robes, and with a jeweled cross

    Sparkling upon his breast.
    Ronelva—A cross!—what cross?

    ’Tis not a symbol of his sovereignty—

    Troinace—It is a gift made by his new ally,

    The Pope.
    Ronelva—The Pope!—The Pope! I know none such!

    Who is this Pope!—Is’t he who sends new gods

    To old Litwania? Yes—I’ve heard of him.

    A pause.Then enter Mindowe, crowned, and arrayed in purple, with a diamond cross upon his breast, and accompanied by Heidenric, the Pope’s legate.Herman precedes them bearing a golden cross.Lawski, disguised as a Teutonic Knight, with a rose upon his helmet, and his visor down, bearing a casket.Lutuver attending the King.Lawski stands apart.
    Ronelva—I feel that kindred blood is near, Mindowe!

    Thy mother speaks! approach![He approaches.]Hast thou returned

    From some new expedition? Is thy brow

    Covered with laurels, and thy stores

    Replete with plunder? Do I hear the shouts,

    Th’ applause of the Litwanians, hailing thee

    As conqueror? Returnest thou from Zmudie,

    From Dwina’s shores triumphant? Has the Russian Bear

    Trembled before thy sword? Does Halicz fear

    Thy angry frown? Speak! with a mother’s tears

    I’ll hail the conqueror.
    Mindowe—My mother! why

    These tones and words sarcastic? Knowest thou not

    That victory perches on another’s helm?

    I am at peace, and am—a Christian king.

    Ronelva—Foul shame on thee, blasphemer! Hast thou fallen

    As low as this? Where is thy bold ambition?

    To what base use hast placed thy ancient fame?

    Is ’t cast aside like to some foolish toy

    No longer worth the hoarding? Shame upon

    Thy craven spirit! Canst thou live without

    That glorious food, which e’en a peasant craves,

    Holding it worthless as thy mother’s love,

    And thy brave father’s faith?
    Mindowe—Nay, mother, nay!

    Dismiss these foolish fancies from thy brain.

    Behold! my jeweled brow is bent before thee.

    Oh, bless thy son!
    Ronelva—Thou vile apostate! Thou

    Dare ask for approbation? Thou!—I curse thee!

    Sorrow and hate pursue thy faltering steps.

    Still may thy foes prove victors; subjects false;

    Thy drink be venom, and thy joy be woe.

    Thy mind filled with remorse, still mayst thou live,

    Seeking for death, but wooing it in vain,—

    A foul, detested, blasted renegade.

    I have bestowed to earth a viper; but

    From thee shall vipers spring, who like their sire

    Shall traitors be unto their native land,

    And eager plunge them into ruin’s stream!

    Depart! and bear thy mother’s curse!
    Mindowe—Mother,

    My mother—
    Ronelva—Call me not mother, viper!

    I do disclaim thee;—thee—and all thy seed![Exit Ronelva, leaning on Troinace.]

    Mindowe[speaking as though awe-stricken]—Heard ye that curse?
    Heidenric—What are the frantic words

    Of a revengeful woman? Empty air—

    Mindowe—A mother’s curse! It carries pestilence,

    Blight, misery, and sorrow in its train.

    No matter! It is, as the legate says,

    But “empty air.”[To Heidenric]What message do you bear?

    Heidenric—Thus to the great Litwanian king, Pope Innocent

    (Fourth of the name who’ve worn the papal crown)

    Sends greeting: Thou whose power extends

    From farthest Baltic to the shores of Crim,

    Go on and prosper. Though unto thy creed

    He thinks thy heart is true, still would he prove—

    [Mindowe starts, and exclaims “Ha!”]

    Send thou to him as neighboring monarchs do

    An annual tribute. So he’ll bless thy arms

    That ere another year elapses Russ’ shall yield,

    And Halicz fall before thy conquering sword.

    Mindowe—Thanks to the Pope. I’ll profit by his leave;

    I’ll throw my troops in Muscovy, and scourge

    The hordes of Halicz, move in every place

    Like an avenging brand, and say—The Pope

    Hath given me power. But, hark ye! legate,

    What needs so great a priest as he of Rome

    With my red gold to buy him corn and oil?

    Explain! I do not understand the riddle.

    Heidenric—He merely asks it as a pledge of friendship,

    But nothing more. The proudest kings of Europe

    Yield him such tribute.
    Mindowe—Tribute!—base priest!

    Whene’er thy master asks for tribute, this—

    [Striking his sword.]

    Is my reply. What hast thou there?
    Heidenric—A gift—

    A precious relic of most potent virtue.

    Thou’st heard of St. Sebastian? holy man!

    He died a martyr. This which brought him death

    Is sent unto thee by his Holiness—

    [Presents a rusty spear-head.]

    Mindowe—Fie on such relics! I could give thy Pope

    A thousand such! This dagger by my side

    Had hung from childhood. It has drunk the blood

    Of many a foe that vexed my wrath; and oft

    Among them there were men, and holy men,

    As holy, sir, as e’er was St. Sebastian.

    Heidenric—Peace, thou blasphemer!
    Mindowe[angrily]—How! dost thou wish thy head

    To stand in safety on thy shoulders?

    What means this insolence, sir legate?

    Think’st thou that I shall kneel, and bow, and fawn,

    And put thy master’s iron yoke upon me?

    They act not freely whom the fetters bind,

    And none shall forge such galling chains for me!

    There’s not one more Mindowe in the world,

    Nor is your Pope a crowned Litwanian king.

    Heidenric—I speak but as the representative

    Of power supreme o’er earthly monarchs.

    Mindowe—Thou doest well to shelter thus thyself

    Under the shield of thy legation. Hast

    Aught more to utter of thy master’s words,

    Aught more to give?
    Heidenric—I have a gift to make

    Unto thy queen.
    Mindowe—The queen hath lain, sir prince,

    In cold corruption for a twelvemonth back.

    What means this mockery?
    Heidenric—Pardon, my lord!

    It was not known unto his Holiness.

    The forests of Litwania are so dark

    They shut her doings from her neighbor’s ken.

    If then the queen be dead, who shall receive

    This goodly gift?
    Mindowe—My mother—
    Heidenric—If I may judge

    By what I heard e’en now, she’d not accept

    Our offering.
    Mindowe—Then give the gorgeous gaw

    To Lawski’s widow—she who soon will be

    My crownèd queen. Summon her hither, page.[Exit Page.]

    Attendants, take from hence these costly gifts,

    And give them in the royal treasurer’s care.—[Exit Attendants.]

    Enter Aldona
    Here comes my spotless pearl, the fair Aldona,

    The choicest flower of the Litwanian vales.

    Address thy speech to her.
    Heidenric—Beauteous maid,

    Accept these golden flowers from Tiber’s banks,

    Where they have grown, nursed by the beams of faith.

    Nor deem them less in value that they are

    By the brighter lustre of thine eyes eclipsed.

    Aldona—These costly jewels and the glare of gold,

    Albeit they suit not my mourning weeds,

    May serve as dying ornaments. As such

    I will accept them.
    Heidenric[aside]—Ay! I warrant me.

    Like to most women, she accepts the gift,

    Nor farther questions. Gold is always—gold.

    [Motions to Lawski to approach Aldona.He does so, tremblingly.]
    Mindowe[to Lawski]—Thou tremblest. Teuton!
    [Lawski raises his visor as he approaches Aldona.She recognizes his features, shrieks, and falls.Exit Lawski.]
    Mindowe—Help there—she swoons!

    Without there!

    Enter Attendants
    Mindowe—Bear her hence. Pursue that knight.[Exit Attendants with Aldona.]

    [To Heidenric]—What means this mystery?
    Heidenric—I know not, sire.

    He said that he had vowed whilst in our train

    For certain time to keep his visor down.

    He’s taciturn. This with his saddened air,

    Together with the rose upon his helm,

    The emblem of the factious house of York,

    Bespeaks him English—to my thought, at least.

    Mindowe—Think ye such poor devices can deceive?

    He is a spy—a base, deceitful spy.

    Begone! for by my father’s sepulchre

    I see a dagger in my path. Begone![Exit Heidenric and Herman.]

    Approach, Lutuver. Didst thou see that knight

    Who left so suddenly?
    Lutuver—I did so, sire,

    But ’f all the group I least suspected him

    Of treasonable practices. He’s silent,

    For no one understands his language here;

    He keeps aloof from men, because he’s sad;

    He’s sad, because he’s poor: so ends that knight.

    Mindowe[not heeding him]—I tell thee that my very soul’s pulse throbbed,

    And my heart cast with quicker flow my blood,

    When that young knight approached Aldona.[Muses.]

    Now, by the gods, I do believe ’tis he—

    The banished Lawski—here to dog my steps:

    What thinkest thou, Lutuver?
    Lutuver—Slay him, sire!

    If it be he, he’s taken from my path;

    If not—to slay a Teuton is no crime.

    Mindowe—Thou counselest zealously. But still, thy words

    Fall not upon an ear which thinks them good.

    I tell thee that this Lawski is my bane,

    A living poison rankling ’fore mine eyes.

    Men prate about the virtues of the man:

    And if a timorous leaning to the right,

    From fear to follow where the wrong directs,

    Be virtue, then is he a paragon.

    No wonder we are deadly foes. To me

    The brightness which is shed o’er all his deeds,

    When placed in contact with my smothered hate,

    Seems as the splendor of the noonday sun

    Glancing upon some idol’s horrid form,

    Making its rude appearance ruder still.

    One word of mine, Lutuver, might destroy

    This abject snail, who crawling near my hope

    Hath scared it off. But I would have him live,

    And when he meets his adorable wife,—

    When in th’ excess of ’raptured happiness

    Each fibre fills with plenitude of joy,

    And naught of bliss is left to hope for,—then

    At fair Aldona’s feet shall he expire,

    And the full heart just beating ’gainst her own

    Shall yield its living current for revenge.

    And she—his wife—to whom I knelt in vain,

    Who oft has said she courted my dislike,

    And wished I’d hate her,—she shall have her wish.[Exeunt Mindowe and Lutuver, as the curtain falls.]