A large and richly furnished reception room in Vyshnevsky’s home. On the left is a door to Vyshnevsky’s study, on the right a door to Mme. Vyshnevsky’s rooms. Each side wall has a mirror with a small table below. An entrance door faces the audience. Vyshnevsky, without his wig, is wearing a cotton frock coat. Mme. Vyshnevsky is in morning attire. They are coming from her rooms.
VYSHNEVSKY. What ingratitude! What spite! (He sits down.) We’ve been married five years now, and in all those five years I haven’t been able to do a thing to gain your favor. I just don’t understand. Is there perhaps something that doesn’t satisfy you?
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. Not at all.
VYSHNEVSKY. I should think not. Wasn’t it for you I bought and decorated this house so splendidly? Wasn’t it for you I built the summer house last year? Is there anything you don’t have enough of? I suppose there isn’t even a merchant’s wife who has as many diamonds as you have.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. Thank you. All the same, I didn’t ask for anything.
VYSHNEVSKY. You didn’t ask, but I had to find some way to make up to you the difference in our years. I thought I’d find in you a woman who could appreciate the sacrifices I was making for you. I’m not a magician, you know; I can’t build marble palaces with a flick of the hand. For the silk, the gold, the sable, and the velvet you wrap yourself up in from head to foot it takes money; it has to be gotten. And it isn’t always easy to come by.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. I don’t need anything. I’ve already told you that more than once.
VYSHNEVSKY. But I have a need, and that is to win your heart at last. Your coldness is driving me crazy. I’m a man of passion; out of love for a woman I could do anything! This year I bought you an estate outside Moscow. Do you realize that the money I bought it with… how should I tell you?.. Well, in a word, I risked more than was prudent. I could be held accountable.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. For heaven’s sake, don’t make me part of your dealings if they’re not completely honest. Don’t justify them out of love for me. Please. That’s something I can’t bear. Still, I don’t believe you. Before you knew me you lived and acted the very same way. I don’t want to burden my conscience with your conduct.
VYSHNEVSKY. Conduct! Conduct! Out of my love for you I’m even ready to commit a crime. I’m ready to procure your love at the cost of my honor. (He gets up and approaches her.)
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. Aristarkh Vladimirych, I can’t pretend.
VYSHNEVSKY (taking her by the hand). Pretend! Pretend!
MME. VYSHNEVSKY (turning away). Never.
VYSHNEVSKY. But really I love you!…(Trembling, he falls onto his knees.) I love you!
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. Aristarkh Vladimirych, don’t degrade yourself! It’s time for you to get dressed. (She rings.)
Vyshnevsky gets up. Anton enters from the study.
Aristarkh Vladimirych needs to be dressed.
ANTON. As you wish, it’s ready, sir. (He goes off into the study.)
Vyshnevsky follows him.
VYSHNEVSKY (in the doorway). Snake! Snake! (He goes out.)
MME. VYSHNEVSKY (sitting and thinking awhile. The boy servant enters, gives her a letter, and leaves). Who could this be from? (She unseals and reads it.) That’s really nice! A love letter. And who sent it! A man well on in years, with a beautiful wife. How disgusting! How insulting! What’s a woman to do in such a case? And the vulgar things he writes! Stupid tender things! Should I send it back? No, it would be better to show it to a few friends for a good laugh together… Ugh, how repulsive! (She leaves.)
Anton comes out from the study, stopping at the door. Yusov enters.
YUSOV (with a briefcase). Announce me, Antosha.
Anton goes out. Yusov tidies himself up before the mirror.
ANTON (in the doorway). Come in, please.
Yusov goes in.
BELOGUBOV (enters, takes a comb from his pocket, and combs his hair). Tell me, sir, is Akim Akimych here?
ANTON. He just went into the study.
BELOGUBOV. And the master himself, how is he today? Is he in a good mood, sir?
ANTON. I don’t know. (He leaves.)
Belogubov stands by the table near the mirror.
YUSOV (coming out and noticeably putting on airs). Oh, so you’re here.
BELOGUBOV. I’m here, sir.
YUSOV (looking through a document). Belogubov.
BELOGUBOV. What would you like, sir?
YUSOV. Here, my friend, take this home and make a clean copy. Those are his orders.
BELOGUBOV. It was me he ordered to make a copy, sir?
YUSOV (sitting down). You. He said you have a good handwriting.
BELOGUBOV. It’s a great pleasure for me to hear that, sir.
YUSOV. So listen, friend, don’t hurry it. The main thing is to be neat. You see, where we’re sending it’…
BELOGUBOV. Akim Akimych, I understand, sir. I’ll use beautiful penmanship, sir; I’ll stay up with it all night.
YUSOV (sighing). Oh, oh! Oh, oh!
BELOGUBOV. Akim Akimych, if only somebody could pay some attention to me.
YUSOV (sternly). Are you trying to make some kind of joke?
BELOGUBOV. How could I do that, sir?
YUSOV. Could pay attention… That’s easy to say! What more could an official want? What more could he desire?
BELOGUBOV. Yes, sir!
YUSOV. We’ve paid attention to you; you’re a man, you breathe. Are you saying we haven’t paid attention.
BELOGUBOV. It’s as you say, sir.
YUSOV. You worm!
BELOGUBOV. Akim Akimych, I think I’m making an effort, sir.
YUSOV. You are? (He looks at him.) I do think well of you.
BELOGUBOV. I even skimp on food, Akim Akimych, so I can be neatly dressed. Because, sir, when official is neatly dressed, his superiors always take notice. Please, take a look at my waist… (He turns about.)
YUSOV. Stand still. (He examines Belogubov and takes snuff.) Your waist is fine… But there’s something else, Belogubov; you should watch out more for your writing.
BELOGUBOV. It’s the spelling that gets me, Akim Akimych; that’s what’s bad, sir… Believe me, it bothers me myself.
YUSOV. What does that matter, the spelling! It doesn’t all come at once; it takes getting used to. The first thing is to write a rough draft, and then you get somebody to correct it; you make a copy from that. Do you hear what I’m saying?
BELOGUBOV. But when I ask somebody to correct it, sir, then Zhadov always laughs at me.
YUSOV. Who?
BELOGUBOV. Zhadov, sir.
YUSOV (sternly). But he himself, what is he? What kind of a bird is he? He can afford to laugh!
BELOGUBOV. That’s the thing, sir. He has to let people know he’s been educated.
YUSOV. Ugh! That’s him all right.
BELOGUBOV. I just can’t make him out, Akim Akimych, what kind of a person he is.
YUSOV. He’s nobody!…
Silence.
I was just in there (indicating the study), and he told me (quietly),” I don’t know what to do about my nephew!” You can figure it out from that.
BELOGUBOV. Zhadov really has a high opinion of himself, sir.
YUSOV. He flies high, but where will he land! He couldn’t have it any better, living here with all his keep provided. So what do you think, has he felt any gratitude? Has anybody seen any respect from him? Nothing of the kind! Rudeness, freethinking… After all, even if he’s a relative, still his uncle’s a big man… how can he put up with that sort of thing? So here’s what his uncle told that dear boy, “You just go and live with that mind of yours on ten rubles a month, and perhaps you’ll wise up.”
BELOGUBOV. That’s just what acting stupid can lead to, Akim Akimych. You’d really think … Good God!… what luck! He ought to be thanking God every moment. Isn’t that right, what I’m saying, Akim Akimych, shouldn’t he be thanking God, sir?
YUSOV. Of course!
BELOGUBOV. The man’s running away from his own happiness. What else does he need, sir! He has a rank in the service, related to a man like that, his keep provided; if he wanted, he could have a good position with a big income. You know Aristarkh Vladimirych wouldn’t refuse him.
YUSOV. Not a chance!
BELOGUBOV. This is how I look at it, Akim Akimych. Any other man with feelings in his place would be cleaning boots for Aristarkh Vladimirych, but Zhadov has to cause him pain.
YUSOV. It’s all from pride and making judgments.
BELOGUBOV. What judgments! What do we have to judge? Now take me, Akim Akimych, never have I…
YUSOV. Of course not!
BELOGUBOV. I never have, sir… because no good can come of it, only unpleasantness.
YUSOV. But how can he keep from talking! He has to show people he’s been at the university.
BELOGUBOV. But what’s the use of learning if there’s no fear in a man… if there’s no trembling before his superiors?
YUSOV. No what?
BELOGUBOV. Trembling, sir.
YUSOV. Indeed yes.
BELOGUBOV. Akim Akimych, I wish they’d make me a department head, sir.
YUSOV.You know what’s good for you.
BELOGUBOV. The reason I’m saying that, sir, is that I have a fiancée now. A wonderfully educated young lady, sir. Only without a position it’s impossible, sir. Who would give her?
YUSOV. So why not show what you’re made of?
BELOGUBOV. My first duty, sir… only right now… I need somebody to take the place of a relative for me, sir.
YUSOV. I’ll put in a word about a position. We’ll think about it.
BELOGUBOV. That position would set me up for life, sir. Though I’d just sign things, because I can’t go higher than that, sir. I don’t have the ability.
Zhadov enters.
ZHADOV. Tell me, is Uncle busy?
YUSOV. Busy.
ZHADOV. Too bad! I need very much to see him.
YUSOV. It can wait. He has business more important than yours.
ZHADOV. How can you know what my business is!
YUSOV (looking at him and laughing). What your business is! It has to be some kind of nonsense.
ZHADOV. It’s better not to talk with you, Akim Akimych. You always provoke me to harsh words. (He goes away and sits down at the front of the stage.)
YUSOV (to Belogubov). What do you think of him?
BELOGUBOV (loudly). It’s not worth talking about! At your age it can only upset you. Good-bye, sir. (He leaves.)
YUSOV (to himself). Ha, ha, ha! Thank God I’ve lived to see the day. Little boys have begun to act big.
ZHADOV (looking around). What are you grumbling about over there?
YUSOV (continuing). To follow orders, that we don’t like, but to make judgments–there’s something for us. So how can we possibly stay in the office! They should make us all ministers of state! But what can you do? They made a mistake, please excuse it, they didn’t know of your talents. But we’ll make you ministers yet, without fail… just wait a bit… tomorrow even.
ZHADOV (to himself). I’m sick of this!
YUSOV. Oh Lord! Lord! No shame, no conscience. Still young and green, but already high and mighty. See what I am! Don’t touch me!
Anton enters.
ANTON (to Yusov). The master would like to see you.
Yusov goes off into the study.
ZHADOV. Tell Anna Pavlovna I should like to see her.
ANTON. Very good, sir. (He goes off.)
ZHADOV (alone). Why did that old fogy grumble so much! What did I ever do to him! I can’t stand university people, he says. Is that my fault? Just try serving under such a boss. Still, what can he do to me if I behave well? But if there’s a vacancy they’ll probably pass me by. Just like them.
Mme. Vyshnevsky enters.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. Hello, Vasily Nikolaich.
ZHADOV. Oh, Aunty, hello! (He kisses her hand.) I have some news for you.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. Sit down.
They sit down.
What’s your news?
ZHADOV. I want to get married.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. Isn’t it early for that?
ZHADOV. I’m in love, Aunty, in love! And what a girl! Perfection!
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. Is she rich?
ZHADOV. No, Aunty. She doesn’t have a thing.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. Then what are you going to live on?
ZHADOV. But what is my head for, and my hands? Am I really supposed to live all my life at somebody else’s expense? Of course, some people would be glad, only too happy for the chance, but I can’t. Not to mention that I’d have to kowtow to Uncle and go against my convictions. And who is going to work? What were we taught for? Uncle advises me first of all to make my pile, no matter how, buy myself a home, get some horses, and then get a wife. How can I agree with him? I’ve fallen in love with a girl as only men at my age do. Am I really supposed to renounce my happiness just because she has no money?
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. It’s not only from poverty that people suffer. People suffer from wealth too.
ZHADOV. Do you remember our talks with Uncle? Whatever I’d say against bribes or questionable acts in general, he’d always come back with the same answer, “You go out and live a bit, and you won’t talk like that.” Well, now I want to live a bit, and not alone but with a young wife.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY (sighing). Yes, you have to envy women who are loved by men like you.
ZHADOV (kissing her hand). And how I’ll work, Aunty! I’m sure my wife won’t expect more from me. And if we’ll have to suffer need awhile, then surely Pauline, out of love for me, won’t show the slightest dissatisfaction. But in any case, no matter how bitter life might be, I’m not going to give up even a millionth part of those convictions which I owe to my education.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. You we can be sure of, but your wife… she’s a young woman! It will be hard for her to put up with any deprivation. Our girls are brought up very badly. You young men think we’re angels, but believe me, Vasily Nikolaich, we’re worse than the men. We’re more mercenary, more prejudiced. What can you do! One has to admit we have much less feeling for honor and exact justice. Another bad thing in us is a lack of delicacy. A woman can reproach somebody in a way few grown men would permit themselves. You can hear the most cutting remarks between women who are close friends. Sometimes a woman’s foolish reproach hurts worse than a direct insult.
ZHADOV. That’s true. But I myself will educate her. She’s still only a child; I can still make anything out of her. Only I have to tear her away from her family right away before they spoil her with their vulgar upbringing. For after they’ve made her a young lady in their fashion it’ll be too late.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. I can’t raise doubts, and I don’t want to disillusion you. It would be mean of me to dampen your spirit at the start. So give your heart free rein before it begins to get hardened. Don’t be afraid of poverty. God will bless you. Believe me, nobody could wish you as much happiness as I.
ZHADOV. I’ve always been sure of that, Aunty.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. One thing that worries me is your impatience. You’re always making enemies.
ZHADOV. Yes, everybody tells me I’m impatient, that I lose a lot by it. But is impatience really a fault? Is it really better to look with indifference at the Yusovs and the Belogubovs, at all the disgusting things that go around one all the time? From indifference to vice is a short distance. The man who’s not disgusted by vice will bit by bit be dragged into it himself.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. It’s not that I’m calling impatience a fault, simply that I know from experience how out of place it can be in real life. I’ve known cases… you’ll see some day.
ZHADOV. What do you think, will Uncle turn me down or not? I want to ask him for a raise. Right now that would come in very handy.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. I don’t know. Ask him.
Vyshnevsky enters in a frock coat and wig, Yusov behind him.
VYSHNEVSKY (to Zhadov). Oh, hello. (He sits down.) Sit down. Sit down, Akim Akimych. You’re idling about all the time; you hardly ever go to the office.
ZHADOV. There’s nothing to do there. They don’t give me any work.
YUSOV. We have loads of work!
ZHADOV. You mean that copying? No thanks, your obedient servant! You have officials a lot better at that than I am.
VYSHNEVSKY. My boy, you’re still at it! Still preaching your sermons. (To his wife.) Can you imagine, at the office he preaches morality to the clerks, and they, of course, don’t understand any of it, sitting there with their eyes and mouths wide open. It’s really funny!
ZHADOV. How can I stay quiet when I see disgusting things at every step! I still haven’t lost my faith in people. I think my words will have some effect on them.
VYSHNEVSKY. They already have; you’ve become the laughing stock of the whole office. You’ve reached your goal already; you’ve managed it so that when you come in they all look around with a smile and whisper to each other, and when you leave, they all laugh.
YUSOV. That’s right, sir.
ZHADOV. All the same, what’s so funny in what I say?
VYSHNEVSKY. Everything, my friend. Starting with your unnecessary indecent enthusiasm and ending with your childish impractical conclusions. Believe me, any clerk knows life better than you. He knows from his own experience that it’s better to have a full stomach than to be a hungry philosopher. It’s no wonder your words seem stupid to him.
ZHADOV. But as I see it the only thing they know is that there’s more profit for a bribetaker than an honest man.
YUSOV. Hm, hm…
VYSHNEVSKY. That’s stupid, my friend! Both insolent and stupid.
ZHADOV. But Uncle! What was their purpose in teaching us, why did they fill us with those ideas we can’t mention without your accusing us of stupidity or insolence?
VYSHNEVSKY. I don’t know who taught you there or what. It does seem to me better to teach people to do their work and respect their elders than to babble nonsense.
YUSOV. Yes, sir, that would be much better.
ZHADOV. Have it your way, I’ll keep quiet. But I can’t part with my convictions; they’re my sole consolation in life.
VYSHNEVSKY. Yes, in an attic eating a crust of black bread. A wonderful consolation! Out of hunger you’ll take to praising your own virtue, and you’ll curse your colleagues and superiors because they knew how to organize their lives, because they’re living in plenty, with a family, happy. Marvelous! That’s where envy will help.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. That was cruel.
VYSHNEVSKY. Please, don’t think you’ve said something new. This sort of thing always was and always will be. The man who hasn’t known how or hasn’t managed to make a fortune for himself will always envy the man with a fortune; that’s human nature. It’s easy also to justify envy. Those who envy usually say, “I don’t want wealth; I may be poor, but I’m noble.”
YUSOV. Honeyed lips!
VYSHNEVSKY. Noble poverty is good only in the theater. But just try it out in life. That, my friend, is not so easy or pleasant as we’d like to think. You’ve gotten used to thinking only of yourself, but suppose you get married, what then? That’s something to think about!
ZHADOV. Yes, Uncle I am going to get married, and that’s what I wanted to talk with you about.
VYSHNEVSKY. And no doubt it’s for love, to some poor girl, most likely some fool with just as much understanding of life as you. She’s probably educated, and, accompanied by a piano out of tune, she sings, “With my darling it’s heaven, even in a hut.”1
ZHADOV. Yes, she’s a poor girl.
VYSHNEVSKY. Marvelous.
YUSOV. For the propagation of beggars, sir.
ZHADOV. Akim Akimych, don’t insult me. I haven’t given you any cause for that. Uncle, marriage is a big thing, and I think that in such a matter a man should follow his own inclinations.
VYSHNEVSKY. Go right ahead; nobody’s stopping you. But have you thought about things? You love your fiancée, of course?
ZHADOV. Naturally I love her.
VYSHNEVSKY. So what are you preparing for her, what joys in life? Poverty, all kinds of deprivation. In my opinion, a man who loves a woman tries to strew her path, so to speak, with all kinds of delights.
YUSOV. That’s right, sir.
VYSHNEVSKY. Instead of the hats and styles women feel they must have, you’ll be giving your wife sermons on virtue. Out of love for you she’ll listen, of course, but all the same she won’t be getting her hats and coats.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. At his age love isn’t bought yet.
ZHADOV. What Aunty says is true.
VYSHNEVSKY. I agree there’s no need for you to buy love, but every man is obliged to reward love, to pay for it; otherwise, the most unselfish love will grow cold. You’ll start getting reproaches, complaints against fate. I don’t know how you’ll be able to stand it when all the time your wife expresses regret that from inexperience she joined her lot with a beggar. In a word, it’s your obligation to provide for the happiness of the woman you love. And without wealth or at least some abundance there is no happiness for a woman. Maybe, as usual, you’ll start contradicting me, so I’ll prove it to you. Look around you. What smart girl will think twice before marrying an old or ugly man if only he has money? What mother will hesitate a second before marrying her daughter off to such a man even if the girl’s against it? Because she considers her daughter’s tears stupid and childish, and she thanks God for sending such good luck to her Mashenka or Annushka. Every mother knows in advance that her daughter will thank her afterwards. And if only for his peace of mind, which also is worth something, a husband has to provide completely for his wife; then even… even if the wife isn’t completely happy, she doesn’t have the right to… she doesn’t dare complain. (With heat.) If a woman is snatched away from poverty and smothered with concern for her needs and luxury then who can believe she’s unhappy? Ask my wife if I’m speaking the truth.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. Your words are so clever and convincing they don’t need my agreement. (She leaves.)
ZHADOV. Not all women are like that.
VYSHNEVSKY. Almost all. Of course there are exceptions, but it’s not likely such an exception will fall your way. For that to happen a man has to live a bit, do some hunting around rather than, like you, fall in love with the first girl he meets. Listen, I’ll speak to you as a relative, because I’m sorry for you. What are you really thinking about your affairs? How are you and your wife going to live without means?
ZHADOV. I’ll live by working. My hope is that for me a peaceful conscience will take the place of earthly blessings.
VYSHNEVSKY. Your work won’t be enough to support a family. You won’t land a good job, because with your stupid ways you won’t know how to get on the good side of any of your superiors; instead you’ll turn them against you. And your peaceful conscience won’t save you from hunger either. Take note, my friend, luxury is noticeably spreading in society, but your Spartan virtues don’t get along well with luxury. Your mother entrusted you to my care, and I’m obliged to do all I can for you. For the last time this is my advice to you. Tone down your character a bit, give up those foolish ideas, give them up, they’re ridiculous. Work at your job the way all decent people do, that is, look at life and work in a practical way. Then I can help you with advice, with money, with influence. You’re no longer a child; you’re getting ready to be married.
ZHADOV. Never!
VYSHNEVSKY. How loud you said that… “Never!”… But it’s stupid all the same! I think you’ll come to your senses; I’ve seen a lot of cases like yours. Only watch out you’re not too late. Right now you have the opportunity and the patronage, but you might not have it later. You’ll ruin your career, your colleagues will pass you by, it will be hard for you to start again from scratch. I’m speaking to you as official to official.
ZHADOV. Never, never.
VYSHNEVSKY. All right then, live as you want, without backing. Don’t put your hopes on me any more. I’m sick and tired of talking with you.
ZHADOV. Oh God! My backing will come from public opinion.
VYSHNEVSKY. That’ll be the day! My friend, we don’t have any public opinion, and there can’t be any, not in your sense. Here’s public opinion for you: don’t get caught and you’re not a thief. Society doesn’t care what income you live on so long as you live in decent style and act respectably. But if you go without boots and lecture everybody on morality then don’t blame people if you’re not received in respectable homes or if you’re called light-minded or even harmful. I served in some of the chief provincial towns, and people there know each other better than in Moscow or St. Petersburg. They know what each man has and what he lives on, so it’s easier for public opinion to be formed. But no, people are people everywhere. Even there, in my very presence, they laughed at an official who lived on nothing but his salary; he had a large family, and the towns-people said he sewed his own coats. Even there the whole town respected the number-one bribetaker because he did a lot of entertaining and had evening parties twice a week.
ZHADOV. Is that really true?
VYSHNEVSKY. Live awhile, and you’ll find out. Let’s go, Akim Akimych. (He gets up.)
ZHADOV. Uncle!
VYSHNEVSKY. What is it?
ZHADOV. I have a small salary; I don’t have enough to get by on. There’s an opening now; let me fill it. I’m going to get married…
VYSHNEVSKY. Hm… For that position what I need is not a married man but one who’s capable. In all conscience I can’t give you a higher salary. In the first place, you don’t deserve it, and in the second place, you’re my relative; they’ll consider it nepotism.
ZHADOV. As you wish. I’ll live on what means I have.
VYSHNEVSKY. My friend, you’re at it again! I’ll tell you once and for all; I don’t like the way you talk. Your words are cutting and disrespectful, and I don’t see any need for you to get so worked up. Don’t think I consider your opinions insulting—that would be too great an honor for you—I just consider them stupid. So then, aside from official dealings you can consider our relations finished.
ZHADOV. In that case I’d better transfer to another office.
VYSHNEVSKY. Please do. (He leaves.)
YUSOV (looking right at Zhadov). Ha, ha, ha, ha…
ZHADOV. What are you laughing at?
YUSOV. Ha, ha, ha… How can one help laughing? Who is it you’re arguing with? Ha, ha, ha! Has there ever been anything like it?
ZHADOV. What’s so funny about it?
YUSOV. Really now, is your uncle more stupid than you? Is he more stupid? Does he understand less about life than you? It’s all enough to make the hens laugh. You could make me die laughing. Have mercy, spare me, I have a family.
ZHADOV. Akim Akimych, you don’t understand this matter.
YUSOV. But there’s nothing to understand. You could bring in even a thousand men, and they’d all die laughing at you. Here you should be listening to such a man with your mouth wide open, not missing a single word, engraving what he says in your memory, but you have to argue! It’s really a comedy, honest to God it’s a comedy, ha, ha, ha… And your uncle gave you a good going over, hee, hee, hee, but it still wasn’t enough. Now if I were in his place… (He makes a strong grimace and goes off into the study.)
ZHADOV (alone, thoughtful). Go on, keep talking! I don’t believe you, I don’t believe that an educated man can’t provide for himself and his family through honest work. I don’t want to believe society is that corrupt! That’s the way old people have of trying to disillusion young people, by showing them everything in a bad light. Old people envy us because we look at life with a light heart and lots of hope. I understand you, Uncle. Now you’ve gotten everything, a big name and money, you don’t have to envy anybody. The only ones of us you envy are those with a clear conscience and a calm soul. You won’t buy that for any money. You can say what you want, but all the same I’m going to get married, and I’m going to live a happy life. (He leaves.)
Vyshnevsky and Yusov come out from the study.
VYSHNEVSKY. Who’s he going to marry?
YUSOV. The Kukushkin girl. She’s the daughter of a collegiate assessor’s widow.2
VYSHNEVSKY. Do you know the woman?
YUSOV. Yes, sir, I knew her husband. Belogubov wants to marry the other daughter.
VYSHNEVSKY. Well, Belogubov’s another matter. Anyway, you go see the woman. Make her see she shouldn’t ruin her daughter by letting her marry this idiot. (He nods and leaves.)
YUSOV (alone). What times we’ve come to! The things that go on in the world these days, you can’t believe your own eyes! How can one live in the world! Little boys have started to talk! And just who is talking? Just who is arguing? A nobody, that’s who! Just blow on him and phoo! (He blows.) There’s nobody there. And just who is he arguing with! A genius. Aristarkh Vladimirych is a genius… a genius, a Napoleon. He has a limitless mind, he’s quick, bold in his affairs. Just one deficiency, he’s not at all strong in the law, he came from another department. If, with his mind, Aristarkh Vladimirych knew the laws and all the ins and outs like his predecessor, well, that’s all… that’s all… no more needs to be said. You could follow him like a railroad. You could hitch onto him and be on your way. Promotion, decorations, all kinds of land, houses, settlements with virgin land… It takes your breath away! (He leaves.)
A room in Mme. Kukushkin’s home. An ordinary living room, the kind found in homes of modest means. A door in the middle and one to the left. Julie and Pauline are standing before the mirror. Stesha is holding cleaning utensils.
STESHA. There, my young ladies are all set. Those suitors can come right now, the display is first rate. We can put on a great show. We wouldn’t even be ashamed to show them off to some general!
PAULINE. So then, Julie, let’s get to our posts. We’ll sit down the way bright young ladies sit. Mummy will come any time for the inspection. She wants to sell the goods at their best.
STESHA (wiping the dust). You can look as hard as you want, but everything’s in its place and neat as a pin.
JULIE. An inspector like her’ll find something.
They sit down.
STESHA (stooping in the middle of the room). That’s the way of it, young ladies, because of her you don’t have any life at all. She drills you and drills you like soldiers in training. She keeps you at attention all the time; all that’s missing is she doesn’t order you to lift your feet. And she takes it out on me too. She’s been after me all the time about that cleanliness of hers. (She wipes dust.)
JULIE. Do you like your suitor, your Vasily Nikolaich?
PAULINE. Oh, he’s a real darling! And do you like your Belogubov?
JULIE. No, he’s nothing but trash!
PAULINE. Then why don’t you tell Mama?
JULIE. That’s worse, God forbid! I’d jump for joy to marry him, just to get out of this house.
PAULINE. You’re right there. If Vasily Nikolaich hadn’t come along, I think I’d be only too glad to throw myself at the first man I’d meet. He wouldn’t have to be anything, just so he’d rescue me from my misery, take me from this house. (She laughs.)
STESHA (bending under the divan). It’s the suffering of the martyrs. It’s true, what you’re saying, miss.
PAULINE. There are some girls, Julie, who cry when they get married. How can they leave home! They mourn for every little nook. But you and I’d go to the end of the world right now if only some dragon would carry us off. (She laughs.)
STESHA. If I don’t wipe here I’ll get it from her. But who’s going to see anything here, who’d want to! (She wipes under the mirror.)
JULIE. You’re the lucky one, Pauline; everything’s funny to you, but I’m starting to think seriously about marriage. It’s easy enough to get married—we know how to pull that off, but one has to think how married life’ll be.
PAULINE. But what’s there to think about? It surely can’t be any worse than at home.
JULIE. Can’t be any worse! That’s not enough. It has to be better. If a woman’s going to get married then she should end up a true proper lady.
PAULINE. That would be very nice, nothing better, but how? You’re the smart one here, tell me how.
JULIE. You have to tell from what a man says what he’s putting his hopes on. If he doesn’t have something now, whether he has prospects. Just from what he says you can tell right off what kind of man he is. What does your Zhadov tell you when you’re alone with him?
PAULINE. Well, Julie, for the life of me I don’t understand a thing he says. He squeezes my hand hard and starts to talk… he wants to teach me something.
JULIE What?
PAULINE. I really don’t know, Julie. Something very deep. Wait, maybe I can remember something, only don’t laugh; the words are so funny. Hold on, now I remember! (Mimicking.) “What is the destination of women in society?” He talked about some kind of civic virtue. I don’t know what that is. They didn’t teach us that, did they?
JULIE. No, they didn’t teach us that.
PAULINE. He probably read it in those books they wouldn’t give us. You remember… in the boarding school? But then, to tell the truth, we didn’t read any books.
JULIE. That’s something to be sorry about! Even without books it’s boring enough! Now if we could only go for a ride or to the theater, that would be another matter.
PAULINE. Yes, sis, yes.
JULIE. We’ll have to face up to it, Pauline, there’s not much hope for your man. Mine’s not like that.
PAULINE. What’s yours like?
JULIE. My Belogubov may be on the repulsive side, but he gives more hope. He says to me, “You’ll come to love me, miss. Now is not the time for me to get married, miss, but when they make me a department head, then I’ll get married.” I asked him what a department head was. He says, “It’s first-rate, miss.” So it must be something good. He says, “I may be uneducated, but I have lots of business with merchants, miss, and that means I’ll be bringing you silks and different materials from the market, and so far as provisions go, we’ll have everything, miss.” What about that? It’s very good, Pauline, let him bring the stuff. You don’t even have to think about it, you’ve got to marry a man like that.
PAULINE. My man mustn’t know any merchants, he didn’t say anything about it. Does that mean he won’t bring me anything?
JULIE. No, your man must have something too. After all, he’s an official, and all officials have things given them, whatever they want. Some married men get different kinds of material. For a bachelor it could be cloth, tricot. If a man has horses he gets oats or hay. Otherwise, money. Last time Belogubov was wearing a vest, you remember, the one with gay colors. A merchant gave him that; he told me so himself.
PAULINE. I’ll just have to ask Zhadov if he knows any merchants.
Mme. Kukushkin enters.
MME KUKUSHKIN. I can’t help bragging! I have it clean here, I have things in order, everything under control! (She sits down.) But what’s that? (She indicates to Stesha something under the divan.)
STESHA. Really, ma’am, I’m worn out, I broke my back for you.
MME KUKUSHKIN. How dare you talk like that, you nasty woman! That’s what you’re paid for. I get cleanliness, I get order, and I get absolute obedience. In return for the money you’re my slave.
The maid sweeps up and leaves.
Julie!
Julie stands up.
I want to talk to you.
JULIE. What do you want, Mama?
MME KUKUSHKIN. You know, young lady, I don’t have anything or any prospects of getting anything.
JULIE. I know, Mama.
MME KUKUSHKIN. It’s time you knew, young lady! I don’t get income from anywhere, only my pension. I have to make ends meet as best I can. I deny myself everything. I bustle about like a thief at the fair, but for all that I’m not an old woman yet, I could find myself a match. Do you understand that?
JULIE. I understand, ma’am.
MME KUKUSHKIN. I make stylish dresses and all sorts of knick-knacks for you, but for myself I take my old things and cut and dye them. Now you probably think I’m dressing you up for your own pleasure, just so you can look smart. But you’re mistaken. I’m doing all this to get you married, to get you off my hands. With my means I couldn’t keep you in anything but cotton house dresses. If you don’t want or don’t know how to land yourself a bridegroom, so be it. But I don’t intend to cut down and limit myself for you to no good purpose.
PAULINE. Mama, this is an old story. Tell us what it’s all about.
MME KUKUSHKIN. You be quiet! Nobody’s talking to you. To make up for your stupidity God gave you good luck, so be quiet. If this Zhadov weren’t such a fool, you’d end up an old maid, you’re so emptyheaded. What man in his right mind would take you? Who’d want to? You don’t have a thing to brag about, not a brain in your head. You can’t say you charmed the man, he came running himself, he’s putting his own neck in the noose, nobody dragged him here. But Julie’s a bright girl, and that’s why she’s sure to win happiness. Tell me, does your Belogubov show any promise or not?
JULIE. I don’t know, Mama.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Then who does? You know very well, young lady, I don’t receive just any young men. Only a suitor or one who might be. If a man looks something like that, come right in, please, open house. But when he starts getting evasive it’s the gate for him. We don’t need that type. I’m protecting my reputation, yes, and yours too.
JULIE. But Mama, what do you want me to do?
MME KUKUSHKIN. Do as you’re told. Just remember one thing, you can’t stay single. If you do, you’ll have to live in the kitchen.
JULIE. I’ve done all you told me, Mama.
MME KUKUSHKIN. What have you done? Tell me, I’m all ears.
JULIE. When he came that second time, you remember, you almost had to drag him in, I made eyes at him.
MME KUKUSHKIN. And what did he do?
JULIE. In a strange way he stuck his lips together, and then he licked them. I think he was too stupid to understand. Nowadays any schoolboy would do better.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Maybe you know something I don’t, but what I do see is that he shows his bosses respect. He knows how to be pleasant and make up to them. That means he’ll go far. I understood that right away.
JULIE. The third time he came, you remember, it was a Friday. I read some love poems to him. I don’t think he understood any of that either. The fourth time I wrote him a little note.
MME KUKUSHKIN. What did he do then?
JULIE. He came over to me, and he says, “My heart has never turned away from you. It always was, is, and ever will be.”
Pauline laughs.
MME KUKUSHKIN (threatening her with her finger). Then what?
JULIE. He says, “As soon as I get the position of department head then I’ll ask your mama for your hand, and I’ll have tears in my eyes.”
MME KUKUSHKIN. Will he get it soon?
JULIE. He says it’ll be soon.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Come here, Julie, kiss me. (Julie kisses her.) Getting married, my dear, is a big thing in a girl’s life. Some day you’ll understand that. I’m a mother, you know, and I’m a strict mother. If a suitor is serious, you can do what you want; I won’t say a thing, dear, I’ll keep quiet. But if it’s going to be hanky panky with a man just in from the street, no! I won’t allow that. Go, Julie, take your place.
Julie sits down.
So when you get married, children, here’s my advice to you. Don’t indulge your husbands, but keep pecking away at them to bring in money. Otherwise, they get lazy, and later on they’re sorry themselves. There’s a lot I ought to tell you girls, but I can’t say all of it now. If something comes up, run straight to me. You’ll always find a welcome with me; I’ll never turn you away. I know all the ins and outs, and I can give you all kinds of advice, even on medical things.
PAULINE. Mama, somebody’s at the door.
JULIE (looking out the window). It’s Belogubov and some old man.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Sit in your places. Julie, lower your cape a bit on your right shoulder.
Yusov and Belogubov enter.
BELOGUBOV. Hello, Felisata Gerasimovna. (To the young ladies.) Hello, ladies. (Indicating Yusov.) Ma’am, he wanted… this is my superior and my benefactor, Akim Akimych Yusov. You know it’s better, Felisata Gerasimovna, when it’s with your superior, ma’am.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Welcome, welcome! Please sit down.
Yusov and Belogubov sit down.
Let me introduce you to my two daughters, Julie and Pauline. They’re absolute children, don’t understand a thing; they should still be playing with their dolls instead of getting married. It’s a great pity to part with them, but what can you do? Goods like that can’t be kept at home.
YUSOV. Yes, ma’am, that’s the law of our fates, ma’am. It’s the very sphere of life itself, ma’am! Whatever has been foreordained for ages and ages, that is something, ma’am, which man cannot…
MME KUKUSHKIN. I’ll tell you the honest truth, Akim Akimych. I’ve brought them up strictly, away from everything. I can’t give a big dowry for them, but when it comes to morality their husbands will be grateful. I love my children, Akim Akimych, but I’m strict, terribly strict. (Sternly.) Pauline, go get the tea ready.
PAULINE (gets up). Right away, Mama. (She goes out.)
YUSOV. I’m strict myself, ma’am. (Sternly.) Belogubov!
BELOGUBOV. What would you like, sir?
YUSOV. Isn’t that right, that I’m strict?
BELOGUBOV. You’re strict, sir. (To Julie.) I have a new vest, miss, take a look.
JULIE. It’s very nice. Did the same merchant give it to you?
BELOGUBOV. No, this was another one, miss. This one has a better mill.
JULIE. Let’s go into the living room. I’ll show you my fancywork.
They leave.
MME KUKUSHKIN. How they love each other, it’s so touching to watch them. The young man lacks just one thing; he says he doesn’t have a good position. He says he can’t guarantee his wife complete tranquillity. If, he says, they would make me a department head, then, he says, I could support a wife. It’s such a shame, Akim Akimych! He’s such a wonderful young man, so much in love…
YUSOV (taking some snuff). It comes bit by bit, Felisata Gerasimovna, bit by bit.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Still you ought to know if he’s going to get this position soon. It might even depend on you. I’ll submit a request on his behalf. (She bows to him.) You really can’t ignore my request, for I’m a mother, a tender mother fussing about for the happiness of her children, her baby birds.
YUSOV (assuming a serious expression). It’ll be soon, soon. I’ve already submitted a report about him to our chief. And that chief is completely in my hands; whatever I say goes. We’ll make him a department head. If I want, he’ll be a department head, and if I don’t, he won’t…Heh, heh, he will be, he will. I have that chief right there. (He shows his hand.)
MME KUKUSHKIN. I’ll have to own up to you I don’t even like bachelors. What do they accomplish? All they do is weigh down the earth.
YUSOV (solemnly). They’re a burden on the earth, a burden… and empty chatter too.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Yes, sir. And it’s even dangerous to admit a bachelor into a home, especially where there are daughters or a young wife. Who knows what he has on his mind? The way I look at it, you have to get a young man married off as soon as you can; later on he himself will want to thank you. Otherwise they’re stupid; they don’t know what’s good for them.
YUSOV. Yes, ma’am. It’s because they get distracted. You see, life… is the sea of life… it swallows a man up.
MME KUKUSHKIN. A bachelor can’t set up a proper household; he pays no attention to the house; he goes to the tavern.
YUSOV. But some of us go there too, ma’am… it’s a repose from our labors…
MME KUKUSHKIN. But there’s a big difference, Akim Akimych. You go when you’re invited, when somebody wants to treat you, to show their respect. But you don’t really go at your own expense.
YUSOV. I should say not. No, ma’am, in that case I don’t go.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Take a case like this. A man submitting an official request invites your bachelor to a tavern, treats him to a dinner, and that’s the end of it. A lot of money spent but no good from it. But your married man, Akim Akimych, will tell the man making that request, “What good are your dinners to me? I’m better off having dinner with my wife, family style, quietly, in my own little nook. Just give me some pure cash.” And he’ll bring home the money. From that you have two advantages: he comes home sober, and he has money… How many years have you been married?
YUSOV. It’s been forty-three years, ma’am.
MME KUKUSHKIN. You don’t say! But your face looks so young!
YUSOV. It’s the regularity of my life… Yesterday I had my blood drawn with cupping glasses.
MME KUKUSHKIN. A healthy man is always healthy, especially a man at rest in his soul, a man who’s well off.
YUSOV. Let me make a report to you about the game of nature taking its course… with a man… from poverty to riches. They took me, ma’am… this was a long time ago… into the office, I had on a shabby miserable coat, and I’d just learned to read and write… I can see them now sitting there, all older men, looking important, as if they were angry. Those days they didn’t shave much,3 and it made them look even more important. I was so frightened I couldn’t say a word. For a couple of years I ran errands, did all kinds of things: went for vodka, for meat pies, and for kvass if somebody had a hangover. And I didn’t sit at a table or on a chair but by the window on a pile of papers; I didn’t write out of an inkwell but out of an old hairgrease jar. But I made something of myself. Of course it’s not all our doing… it’s from above… it seems it just had to be that I would become somebody and hold an important position. Sometimes my wife and I wonder: why did God favor us so with His gifts? For everything there’s a fate… and one has to do good deeds… help the poor. Yes, ma’am, at the present time I have three little homes, far away, to be sure, but that doesn’t stop me, for I have a team of four horses. Their being far away makes it even better; there’s more land and less noise made about it, less talk, less malicious gossip.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Yes, of course. I suppose you have a little flower garden near your homes?
YUSOV. Yes, I do, ma’am. In the summer heat it’s all good for cooling off and resting the limbs. But I don’t have any pride, ma’am. Pride blinds people… Even if it’s a peasant… I treat him like my own brother… after all, he’s my neighbor… But at work that’s out… The ones I especially don’t care for are those emptyheaded ones, the educated fellows they have now. With them I’m strict and demanding. They have such a high opinion of themselves. I just don’t go along with their crazy notions, as if scholars could grab stars from the sky. I’ve seen their kind; they’re no better than us sinners, and they’re not so attentive to their work. I have a rule: I make things as hard for them as I can for the good of the service… because they do harm. Somehow or other, Felisata Gerasimovna, my heart goes out more to the simple folk. Things are so strict now a man can suffer a setback; for failing grades he can be expelled from a district school or from the lower classes of a preparatory school. How can you not help a man like that? He’s been killed by fate, deprived of everything, treated badly all around. But in our office those are the very ones who catch on faster and are more compliant; they have a more open mind. Out of Christian duty you make something out of him, and he’ll be grateful for the rest of his life; he’ll ask you to stand at his wedding, be godfather to his children. You get your reward in the future life… Now take Belogubov. It’s true he can’t read or write, but I love him, Felisata Gerasimovna, like a son; he has feeling. But I must confess to you, your other suitor… you know, he’s under me too… So I’m in a position to judge…
MME KUKUSHKIN. What is it?
YUSOV (makes a serious face). He’s not reliable.
MME KUKUSHKIN. But why not? He’s not a drunkard or a spendthrift or lazy, is he?
YUSOV. No, ma’am. But…(He takes some snuff.) He’s not reliable.
MME KUKUSHKIN. In what way? Explain it to me, my dear Akim Akimych. After all, I’m the mother.
YUSOV. It’s this way. He has a certain man for a relative… Aristarkh Vladimirych Vyshnevsky.
MME KUKUSHKIN. I know.
YUSOV. He’s a big man, no question, a big man.
MME KUKUSHKIN. I know.
YUSOV. But Zhadov’s disrespectful to him.
MME KUKUSHKIN. I know, I know.
YUSOV. He’s rude to his superiors… high and mighty above all limits… and the thoughts he has… he’s corrupting the youth… above all, his freethinking. His superiors have to take a stern view.
YUSOV. If you know, then you can judge for yourself. What times we’ve come to, Felisata Gerasimovna, no real life at all! And whose fault is it? It’s that trash, those little boys. They’re being graduated by the hundreds; they’ll take us all over.
MME KUKUSHKIN. But when he gets married, Akim Akimych, he’ll change. If I didn’t know all that, I couldn’t go through with it; I’m not a mother to rush into things with eyes closed. I have a rule. As soon as a young man starts coming here I send somebody to find out every last thing about him, or I find out from people myself. The way I see it, all those stupid things come from his being a bachelor. But once he’s married we women will go to work on him. He’ll make it up with his uncle, and he’ll be good at work.
YUSOV. If he changes, his superiors will change towards him…(He becomes silent for awhile.) We don’t have the officials we used to have, Felisata Gerasimovna! Officials are degenerating. They don’t have any spirit. What a life it used to be, Felisata Gerasimovna, heaven itself! A man could live that kind of life forever. We were swimming, simply swimming, Felisata Gerasimovna. In those days officials were eagles… eagles, but nowadays youth is emptyheaded, there’s something missing.
Zhadov enters.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Welcome, Vasily Nikolaich, welcome. Pauline has missed you terribly. She kept looking for you, running up to one window, then the other. Such love, such love!… Really, I’ve never seen the like. You’re a lucky man, Vasily Nikolaich. Tell me, why is it you’re loved like that?
ZHADOV. Excuse me, Felisata Gerasimovna, I’m a bit late. Oh, Akim Akimych. (He bows.) What brings you here?
MME KUKUSHKIN. Akim Akimych is kind enough to take good care of his officials… I just don’t know how to thank him. He took it on himself to come and get acquainted.
ZHADOV (to Yusov). Thank you. Still, there was no need to trouble yourself.
YUSOV. I came more for Belogubov, Felisata Gerasimovna. He doesn’t have any relatives, so I’m trying to act like a father for him.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Don’t say another word, Akim Akimych. You’re a family man yourself, and I could see right away how you make every effort to encourage young men in the direction of family life. I myself share that feeling, Akim Akimych. (To Zhadov.) You can’t imagine, Vasily Nikolaich, how much I suffer when I see two hearts in love sharing obstacles. When you read a novel, you see how circumstances keep the lovers from seeing each other, or the parents are opposed, or class considerations interfere, how it makes you suffer. I cry, I just cry! And sometimes parents can be so cruel, parents who don’t want to respect their children’s feelings. In cases like that some children even die from love. But when you see that everything is leading up to a happy ending, that all the obstacles are disappearing, (in rapture) that love is triumphant, and that the young people are joined in legal wedlock, how all that sweetens up your soul. A kind of sweet bliss goes through all your limbs.
Pauline enters.
PAULINE. Won’t you come in? The tea’s all ready. (Seeing Zhadov.) Vasily Nikolaich! Aren’t you ashamed to make me suffer so? I waited and waited for you.
ZHADOV (kisses her hand). I’m sorry.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Come here, my child, kiss me.
PAULINE (to Zhadov). Let’s go in.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Let’s go in, Akim Akimych.
They leave. Belogubov and Julie enter with cups in hand.
JULIE. As I see it, you’ve been deceiving me all the time.
BELOGUBOV. How could I dare deceive you, miss? Wherever did you get that idea?
They sit down.
JULIE. You can’t believe men in anything, anything at all.
BELOGUBOV. What makes you so critical of men?
JULIE. How am I critical when it’s the absolute truth?
BELOGUBOV. That’s not possible, miss. It’s just a matter of talk. It’s the usual thing for men to pay compliments, but the young ladies don’t believe them. They say men deceive them.
JULIE. You know everything. You yourself have probably paid a lot of compliments in your life.
BELOGUBOV. I didn’t have anyone to pay them to, and then again I don’t know how to, miss. You know that I’ve just started coming to the house, miss, and before that I didn’t have any acquaintances.
JULIE. And you didn’t deceive anyone?
BELOGUBOV. In what regard?
JULIE. Don’t talk to me. I don’t believe a single word you say. (She turns away.)
BELOGUBOV. But what’s the point of this, miss? One could take offense.
JULIE. I should think you’d understand.
BELOGUBOV. I don’t understand, miss.
JULIE. You don’t want to! (She covers her eyes with her handkerchief.)
BELOGUBOV. I can assure you any way you want, miss, that I have always… the way it was when I fell in love, miss, that’s the way it is now… I’ve already told you…
JULIE. You’re in love, but you keep putting things off.
BELOGUBOV. Yes, miss… Now I understand, miss. But you know, miss, it isn’t the kind of business that… you just can’t do it right off, miss.
JULIE. Then how come Zhadov can?
BELOGUBOV. That’s quite another matter, miss. He has a rich uncle, miss, and he himself is an educated man, he could get a job anywhere. He could even become a teacher; he’ll always have his bread, miss. But what can I do, miss? Until I’m given the position as department head there’s nothing I can do, miss. And you yourself wouldn’t want to eat soup and porridge, miss. Only men can do that, but you’re a young lady, miss, that’s not for you. But once I get that position then there’ll be a real turnabout.
JULIE. And when will that turnabout be?
BELOGUBOV. It’ll be soon, miss. They promised. As soon as I get the position, then at that very moment… only first I’ll sew myself a new office uniform… I’ve already spoken to your mama, miss. Don’t you get angry, Julia Ivanovna, because it doesn’t depend on me. Your hand, please.
Julie, not looking at him, stretches out her hand. He kisses it.
As for me I can hardly wait.
Zhadov and Pauline enter.
JULIE. Let’s go. We’ll leave them alone.
They go out. Zhadov and Pauline sit down.
PAULINE. Do you know what I’m going to tell you?
ZHADOV. No, I don’t.
PAULINE. Only please, don’t you tell Mama.
ZHADOV. I won’t tell, don’t worry.
PAULINE (thinking a bit). I’d tell you, but I’m afraid you won’t love me any more.
ZHADOV. Won’t love you any more? Could that really happen?
PAULINE. Are you telling me the truth?
ZHADOV (taking her by the hand). I’m not going to stop loving you, believe me.
PAULINE. See that you don’t. I’ll tell you out of my simplicity. (Quietly.) In our house everything is deception, everything, everything, absolutely everything. Please, don’t you believe anything you’re told. We don’t have a thing. Mama says she loves us, but she doesn’t love us at all; she just wants to get rid of us the sooner the better. She makes up to the suitors to their face but runs them down behind their back. She makes us pretend.
ZHADOV. Does this disgust you? Does it?
PAULINE. Only I’m not pretending, I really do love you.
ZHADOV. You’ll drive me mad! (He kisses her hand.)
PAULINE. And another thing, we’re not educated at all. Julie knows something, but I’m an absolute idiot.
ZHADOV. What do you mean, idiot?
PAULINE. Just that, the same as any idiot. I don’t know a thing; I haven’t read anything… Sometimes when you talk I don’t understand a word of it.
ZHADOV. You’re an angel! (He kisses her hand.)
PAULINE. I may be kinder than Julie, but I’m a lot dumber.
ZHADOV. And that’s just why I love you, because they haven’t managed to teach you anything, haven’t managed to spoil your heart. What we have to do is get you out of here as soon as we can. You and I’ll begin a new life. I’ll take up your education with loving care. What delights are in store for me!
PAULINE. Ah, the sooner the better!
ZHADOV. Then why put it off? I’ve made up my mind already. (He looks at her passionately.)
Silence.
PAULINE. Do you know any merchants?
ZHADOV. What kind of a question is that? Why do you want to know?
PAULINE. No special reason. I just want to know.
ZHADOV. But I still don’t understand. There must be a reason.
PAULINE. Well, here’s why. Belogubov says he knows some merchants, and they give him vests, and that when he gets married they’re going to give him dress materials for his wife.
ZHADOV. So that’s it! Well, no, they won’t be giving things to us. You and I are going to work. Isn’t that so, Pauline?
PAULINE (with a distracted air). Yes, sir.
ZHADOV. No, Pauline, you don’t yet know the high bliss of living by your own work. You’ll be taken care of in everything, God will provide, you’ll see. Everything we acquire will be ours; we won’t be obliged to anyone. Do you understand that? There are two delights in this: the delight of work and the delight of managing one’s own possessions freely and with a calm conscience, not being accountable to anyone. And that’s better than any gift. It’s really better, Pauline, isn’t it?
PAULINE. Yes, sir, it’s better.
Silence.
Would you like me to ask you a riddle?
PAULINE. What comes down but doesn’t have feet?
ZHADOV. What kind of a riddle is that? The rain.
PAULINE. How you do know everything! That’s disgusting. I couldn’t guess it at all when Julie asked me.
ZHADOV. What a child you are! Always stay such a child.
PAULINE. And can people count stars in the sky?
ZHADOV. They can.
PAULINE. No, they can’t. I don’t believe you.
ZHADOV. But there’s no need to count them; they’ve already been counted.
PAULINE. You’re making fun of me. (She turns away.)
ZHADOV (tenderly). Me make fun of you, Pauline! I want to dedicate my whole life to you. Take a good look at me, could I make fun of you?
PAULINE (she looks at him). No, no…
ZHADOV. You say you’re an idiot; I’m the idiot. Make fun of me. A lot of people do make fun of me. With no means or money I’m going to marry you with nothing but hopes for the future. Why get married, they ask me. Why? Because I love you, because I have faith in people. I admit I’m going ahead without giving it much thought. But when can I think about it? I love you so much I just don’t have time to think.
Mme Kukushkin and Yusov enter.
PAULINE (with some feeling). I love you too.
Zhadov kisses her hand.
MME KUKUSHKIN (to Yusov). Just look at them, cooing like doves. Don’t disturb them. It’s so touching to see them!
Belogubov and Julie enter.
ZHADOV (turning around he takes Pauline by the hand and leads her to Mme. Kukushkin). Felisata Gerasimovna, give away this treasure to me.
MME KUKUSHKIN. I’ll have to confess, it’s painful for me to part with her. She’s my favorite daughter… she would have been a consolation in my old age… but God go with her, take her… her happiness means more to me. (She covers her face with her handkerchief.)
Zhadov and Pauline kiss her hands. Belogubov gives her a chair. She sits down.
YUSOV. You’re a real mother, Felisata Gerasimovna.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Yes, that’s something I can boast of. (With heat.) No, bringing up daughters is a thankless task! You raise them, you cherish them, and then you give them away to a stranger… you’re left alone like an orphan… it’s awful! (She covers her eyes with her handkerchief.)
PAULINE and JULIE (together). Mama, we won’t desert you.
Between the second and third acts about a year has passed. A tavern. In the background is a rear curtain, in the middle a gramophone. On the right is an open door through which another room is visible. On the left is a clothes tree. At the front of the stage are tables and divans.
Vasily is standing by the gramophone reading a newspaper. Grigory is standing by the door looking into the other room. Zhadov and Mykin enter. Grigory shows them in, wipes off the table, and places napkins.
MYKIN. Well now, old friend, how are things?
ZHADOV. Bad, brother. (To Grigory.) Give us some tea.
Grigory leaves.
And how are you?
MYKIN. All right. I manage, I get in some teaching.
They sit down.
ZHADOV. Do you make much?
MYKIN. Two hundred rubles.
ZHADOV. Is that enough for you?
MYKIN. I keep within my means. As you see, I don’t have too many amusements.
ZHADOV. Yes, a bachelor can do that.
MYKIN. You shouldn’t have gotten married! Men like us shouldn’t marry. How can we, poor as we are! Just having a full stomach and being protected from the elements, and that should be it. You know the saying: a single person isn’t poor, because even if he is poor, he’s by himself.
ZHADOV. The deed’s been done.
MYKIN. Look at yourself and what you used to be. Have the steep hills worn down the gray horse? No, men like us shouldn’t get married. We are workers. (Grigory serves the tea. Mykin pours.) If we have to work, then work; we can do our living later if it ever comes to that.
ZHADOV. But what could I do! I was so much in love with her.
MYKIN. What does that matter, that you were in love! Don’t you think other people can be in love? I too, friend, was in love, but I didn’t get married. And you shouldn’t have gotten married either.
ZHADOV. But why not?
MYKIN. Very simple. A bachelor thinks about his work, a married man about his wife. A married man is unreliable.
ZHADOV. That’s nothing but nonsense.
MYKIN. No, it’s not nonsense. I don’t know what I wouldn’t have done for the girl I was in love with. But I decided it was better to make a sacrifice. It’s better, my friend, to overcome that very natural feeling than surround yourself with temptations.
ZHADOV. I suppose it wasn’t easy for you, was it?
MYKIN. What can I say! Denying yourself in general isn’t easy, but denying yourself the woman you love when the only obstacle is poverty… Do you love your wife very much?
ZHADOV. I’m crazy about her.
MYKIN. A bad business! Is she smart?
ZHADOV. I really don’t know. All I know is, she’s unusually nice. If some little thing upsets her, she cries so nicely and so sincerely that just looking at her you cry yourself.
MYKIN. Tell me frankly how you’re living. You know, I haven’t seen you for a year and a half.
ZHADOV. All right. My story won’t be long. As you know, I married for love. I took an uneducated girl, brought up in the prejudices of society, like practically all our girls. I dreamed of educating her in the convictions you and I have, and now I’ve been married a year…
MYKIN. And has the plan worked out?
ZHADOV. Nothing’s come of it, of course. I don’t have the time to educate her, and I don’t even know how to go about it. So she’s left with her own ideas, and in arguments, of course, I’m the one to give in. You can see it’s not a good situation, and there’s no way to correct it. She doesn’t even listen to me; she just doesn’t consider me an intelligent man. According to their idea an intelligent man absolutely has to be rich.
MYKIN. So that’s how far it’s gone! And how’s your financial situation?
ZHADOV. I work day and night.
MYKIN. And you still don’t have enough?
ZHADOV. We survive.
MYKIN. And what about your wife?
ZHADOV. She sulks some, and sometimes she cries. What can you do!
MYKIN. I’m sorry for you. No, my friend, people like us shouldn’t get married. Once I was without work for a whole year; all I ate was black bread. What would I have done with a wife?
Dosuzhev enters.
DOSUZHEV (sitting down at another table). Garçon, you there, show some life!
VASILY. What would you like?
DOSUZHEV. Some ashberry brandy. And a side dish appropriate for a man of my position.
VASILY. Yes, sir. (He goes toward the door.)
DOSUZHEV. And some French mustard! Did you hear? I can shut down this tavern. Grigory, start that hurdy-hurdy going.
GRIGORY. Right away, sir. (He winds up the gramophone.)
MYKIN. That man has just got to be a bachelor.
DOSUZHEV. What are you looking at me for? I’m waiting here for my fish, the carp.
ZHADOV. What do you mean, carp?
DOSUZHEV. He’ll come with a red beard; I’ll eat him up.
Vasily brings vodka.
Vasily, keep an eye out for him. When he comes, let me know.
The gramophone plays.
Gentlemen, have you ever seen how drunk Germans cry? (He acts out a crying German.)
Zhadov and Mykin laugh. The gramophone stops playing.
MYKIN (to Zhadov). Well, good-bye. I’ll drop in on you sometime.
ZHADOV. Good-bye.
Mykin leaves.
VASILY (to Dosuzhev). He’s come, sir.
DOSUZHEV. Call him here.
VASILY. He won’t come, sir. He sat down in the rear room.
DOSUZHEV (to Zhadov). He’s embarrassed. Good-bye. If you’re going to stay awhile, I’ll come talk with you. I like the look of your face. (He leaves.)
ZHADOV (to Vasily). Give me something to read.
VASILY (gives him a book). There’s a piece in there you might like to read. People like it, sir.
Zhadov reads. Yusov, Belogubov, and two officials enter.
BELOGUBOV. Akim Akimych, we had dinner there. Let me treat you to some wine here, and we’ll have some music, sir.
YUSOV. Treat me, treat me.
BELOGUBOV. What would you like? Some champagne, sir?
YUSOV. Let’s have that.
BELOGUBOV. The Rhine brand, sir? Gentlemen, be seated.
Everyone sits down but Belogubov.
Vasily! Bring some Rhine champagne, bottled abroad.
Vasily leaves.
Oh brother, hello there! Wouldn’t you like to join us? (He comes up to Zhadov.)
ZHADOV. No, thank you. I don’t drink.
BELOGUBOV But really, come now, brother! Do it for me!… One little glass… we’re relatives now!
Vasily brings the wine. Belogubov goes back to his own table.
Pour it.
Vasily pours.
YUSOV. So, friend, to your health! (He takes a glass and stands up.)
THE TWO OFFICIALS. To your health, sir. (They take glasses and stand up.)
YUSOV (pointing to Belogubov’s head). In this brow, in this mind I have always seen something worthwhile.
They clink glasses.
Let’s kiss.
They kiss each other.
BELOGUBOV. No, you must let me kiss your hand, sir.
YUSOV (hides his hands). That’s not necessary, not necessary. (He sits down.)
BELOGUBOV. It was through you, sir, that I became somebody.
THE TWO OFFICIALS. Sir, allow us. (They clink glasses with Belogubov, drink, and sit down.)
BELOGUBOV (pours out a glass and hands it on a tray to Zhadov). Brother, do us a favor.
ZHADOV. I told you I don’t drink.
BELOGUBOV. You mustn’t be like that, brother; you’ll hurt our feelings.
ZHADOV. I’m getting tired of this.
BELOGUBOV. If you don’t like champagne, is there something you would like? Whatever you want, brother, it’s my pleasure.
ZHADOV. I don’t want a thing. Leave me alone! (He reads.)
BELOGUBOV. Very well, as you wish. I don’t know why you want to hurt our feelings, brother. I meant it all for the best…(He goes back to his table.)
YUSOV (quietly). Let him be.
BELOGUBOV (sits down). Gentlemen, another glass each! (He pours.) Wouldn’t you like a fancy cake? Vasily, bring a large fancy cake.
Vasily leaves.
YUSOV. You’re really letting loose! You were smart and caught somebody. Am I right?
BELOGUBOV (pointing to his pocket). Right! And who is it I owe it to? All to you.
YUSOV. You caught him pretty good, eh?
BELOGUBOV (takes out a packet of paper money). There it is, sir.
YUSOV. I know you. You wouldn’t be making a false move.
BELOGUBOV (puts the money away). No, really. Who am I in debt to? Would I really have understood things without you? Who made me somebody, who made me begin to live, if not you? I was brought up under your wing! Anyone else wouldn’t have learned all that in ten years, all those fine touches and moves you taught me in four. I made you my example in everything, for what could I have done with my mind! Anyone else’s own father wouldn’t do for his son what you did for me. (He wipes his eyes.)
YUSOV. You have a noble soul. You can feel. But there are some who can’t.
Vasily brings the fancy cake.
BELOGUBOV. What would I have been? An idiot, sir! But now I’m a member of society, everyone respects me. I go through the market section, and all the merchants bow to me; they invite me to their homes, want me to sit in the place of honor. My wife loves me. Why else would she want to love a fool like me? Vasily! Don’t you have any expensive candy?
VASILY. We can get it, sir.
BELOGUBOV (to Yusov). It’s for my wife, sir. (To Vasily.) Look, wrap a lot of it up in paper. You can charge what you want, I won’t mind.
Vasily starts to go.
Wait! And put in all kinds of fancy cake.
YUSOV. She has enough; you’ll spoil her.
BELOGUBOV. That’s impossible, sir. (To Vasily.) Put in some of everything, do you hear?
VASILY. Yes, sir. (He leaves.)
BELOGUBOV. I love her, I love my wife very much, sir. If I give her a treat, then she’ll love me more, Akim Akimych. What am I compared to her, sir? She’s educated, sir… I just bought a dress for her, sir… that is, I didn’t buy it, I just took it. I’ll settle with him later.
YUSOV. It doesn’t matter. Why pay money? Maybe some sort of business deal will turn up, and then you and he are quits. A mountain doesn’t get together with a mountain, but a man can get together with a man.
Vasily brings the candy wrapped in paper.
BELOGUBOV. Put it in my hat. Another glass each, sir. (He pours.) Vasily! Another bottle.
YUSOV. We’ve had enough.
BELOGUBOV. No, allow me, sir. Here you’re not in charge, I am.
Vasily leaves.
FIRST OFFICIAL. Let me tell you something that happened! One of our good- for-nothing clerks really pulled a fast one! He made a false copy of a decision (what an idea!), forged the signatures, and then took it to a plaintiff. It was an interesting case, there was money in it. Only the sly dog didn’t let go of that copy; he just showed it. Anyway, he made a lot of money out of it. Later the plaintiff showed up in court, but the case didn’t turn out at all the way he expected.
BELOGUBOV. How disgusting! For that he ought to be fired.
YUSOV. Fired is right. Don’t stain the reputation of officials. If you take some-thing, do it for something real, not a swindle. Take so the man making a request won’t be hurt and you’ll be satisfied. Live within the law; live so the wolves have their fill and the sheep stay safe. Why chase after something big! The hen pecks at the grain but is filled. What kind of a man is that! One of these days they’ll pack him off to the army.4
BELOGUBOV (pours a glass). That’s for you, Akim Akimych!… You won’t refuse me what I ask? I’ll bow down at your feet.
YUSOV. What is it?
BELOGUBOV. You remember the last time, sir, how you danced while the gramophone played “Over the Pavement”?5
YUSOV. What will you think of next!
BELOGUBOV. Make me happy, Akim Akimych! I’ll remember it all my life.
YUSOV. All right, all right. Just for you! Tell them to play “Over the Pavement.”
BELOGUBOV. Hey, Vasily! Play “Over the Pavement.” And stand by the door. Make sure nobody comes in.
VASILY. Yes, sir. (He winds up the gramophone.)
YUSOV (indicating Zhadov). I don’t like that one over there. No telling what he’ll think.
BELOGUBOV (sitting down next to Zhadov). Brother, be one of the family. Akim Akimych is embarrassed because of you.
ZHADOV. Why is he embarrassed?
BELOGUBOV. He wants to dance. After work, brother, a man has to have some kind of diversion. He can’t work all the time; he has to amuse himself. So what! It’s innocent pleasure; we’re not hurting anybody.
ZHADOV. Dance all you want. I’m not in your way.
BELOGUBOV (to Yusov). It’s all right, Akim Akimych, he’s one of the family.
VASILY. Do you want me to start?
YUSOV. Start.
The gramophone plays “Over the Pavement.” Yusov dances. At the end all but Zhadov applaud.
BELOGUBOV. No, now you can’t get out of it, sir! We have to drink champagne! Vasily, a bottle of champagne! Does it come to much for everything?
VASILY (calculates on the abacus). It comes to fifteen rubles, sir.
BELOGUBOV. Here. (He gives him money.) Half a ruble for the tip.
VASILY. Thank you very much, sir. (He leaves.)
YUSOV (loudly). I suppose you young whippersnappers are laughing at the old man!
FIRST OFFICIAL. How could we do that, Akim Akimych? We don’t know how to thank you.
SECOND OFFICIAL. That’s right, sir.
YUSOV. I have the right to dance. I’ve done everything required in life. My soul is calm, my past doesn’t weigh on me, I’ve provided for my family, and now I can dance. Now I rejoice in God’s world! If I see a little bird I rejoice in it, if I see a little flower I rejoice in that too: in everything I see a wondrous wisdom.
Vasily brings a bottle, uncorks it, and pours while Yusov continues to speak.
When I remember my own poverty I don’t forget my brother in need. I don’t condemn others like some of our young learned whippersnappers! What man can we condemn? Who knows, we ourselves might be in the same boat! Only today you may have laughed at a drunkard, but tomorrow you might be a drunkard yourself. You condemn a thief today, but tomorrow you might be a thief. How can we know our final end, who is destined for what? We know one thing, we’ll all be in the other world. Just now you were laughing (looking at Zhadov) because I was dancing, but tomorrow you might be dancing worse. Maybe (nodding in Zhadov’s direction) you’ll even go begging for charity, and you’ll hold out your hand. That’s what pride can lead to! Pride, pride! I danced from the fullness of my soul. I have joy in my heart, I’m calm in my soul! I’m not afraid of anybody! I’d dance right on the public square in front of everybody. And the people passing by’d say, “That man is dancing, he must have a pure soul!” And each and every one of them would go about his business.
BELOGUBOV (raising his glass). Gentlemen! To the health of Akim Akimych! Hurrah!
THE TWO OFFICIALS. Hurrah!
BELOGUBOV. Akim Akimych, you would make us happy if you dropped in on us sometime. My wife and I are still young, you could give us advice, some lessons in morality, how to live in wedlock and meet our obligations. A man of stone would feel things listening to you.
YUSOV. I’ll drop in sometime. (He takes the newspaper.)
BELOGUBOV (pours a glass and takes it over to Zhadov). You see, brother, I can’t stay away from you.
ZHADOV. Why don’t you let me read? An interesting article turned up, and you keep pestering me.
BELOGUBOV (sitting down next to Zhadov). Brother, it’s wrong of you to hold a grudge against me. Let’s put all this hostility aside, brother. Eat something. Drink something. You’ll feel better. On my side there’s nothing important, sir. Let’s live like relatives.
ZHADOV. It’s impossible for us to live like relatives.
BELOGUBOV. But why, sir?
ZHADOV. We’re not equals.
BELOGUBOV. Yes, of course, every man to his own fate. Right now I’m living well, and you’re living in poverty. So what, I’m not proud of that. After all, that’s what fate does to some people. I’m supporting a whole family now and Mama too. I know you’re in need, brother. Maybe you need money, don’t be offended, I’ll give you as much as I can. I won’t even consider it a debt. What are accounts between relatives!
ZHADOV. Where’d you get the idea of offering me money!
BELOGUBOV. Brother, I’m well off now. It’s my duty to try and help you. I can see your poverty, brother.
ZHADOV. What kind of a brother am I to you! Leave me alone.
BELOGUBOV. If that’s how you want it! I meant well. I won’t hold it against you, brother. Only I feel sorry looking at you and your wife. (He goes off to Yusov.)
YUSOV (throwing the newspaper aside). The things they write these days! Not a thing that’s morally uplifting! (He pours for Belogubov.) Drink it up, and let’s go.
BELOGUBOV (drinks up). Let’s go.
Vasily and Grigory hand them their coats.
VASILY (hands Belogubov two packages). Here you are, sir.
BELOGUBOV (sweetly). They’re for my wife, sir. I love her, sir.
They leave. Dosuzhev enters.
DOSUZHEV. “‘Tis not a flock of ravens that flew together there!”6
ZHADOV. Right you are.
DOSUZHEV. Let’s go to Marya’s Grove7 and have a good time.
ZHADOV. I can’t.
DOSUZHEV. Why not? You have a family? You have to take care of children?
ZHADOV. I don’t have to take care of any children. My wife is waiting for me at home.
DOSUZHEV. Has it been long since you saw each other?
ZHADOV. What do you mean, long? This morning.
DOSUZHEV. Well, that’s not so long. I was thinking you hadn’t seen each other for three days or so.
Zhadov looks at him.
Why do you look at me like that! I know what you’re thinking about me. You think I’m like those dandies who just left, but you’re wrong. They’re asses in lions’ skins! The skin alone is frightening. All the same, they frighten the common run of folk.
ZHADOV. I have to admit, I can’t figure you out.
DOSUZHEV. It’s like this. In the first place, I like to have a good time. And in the second place, I’m an awfully good lawyer. You were a student, I can see that, and I was a student too. I took a job with a small salary. I can’t take bribes, that just isn’t my nature, but a man has to have something to live on. Then I had an inspiration. I took up law and went in for writing up touching legal requests for merchants. So if you don’t want to go with me then let’s have a drink. Vasily, some vodka!
Vasily goes off.
ZHADOV. I don’t drink.
DOSUZHEV. What country were you born it? That’s a lot of nonsense! It’s all right to do it with me. So, sir, I went in for writing those touching requests. You have no idea what these people are like! I’ll tell you.
Pour two glasses. This is for the whole bottle. (He gives some money.)
ZHADOV. And from me for the tip. (He gives some money.)
Vasily goes off.
DOSUZHEV. Let’s drink!
ZHADOV. All right, just for you. Only I really don’t drink.
They clink glasses and drink. Dosuzhev pours some more.
DOSUZHEV. If you write a request for some beardy old merchant and charge a little, then he’ll ride all over you. He’ll get familiar and tell you, “Here, you pen-pusher you, here’s a tip for you.” I’ve come to have unlimited spite towards them. Let’s drink! As the saying goes, “If you drink you’ll die and if you don’t drink you’ll die, so you might as well drink and die.”
They drink.
So I started writing them to suit their taste. For example, you have to write a bill for one of them, and all it takes is ten strokes of the pen. But for him you write four pages. I begin this way: “Being encumbered with a multitudinous family numbering a quantity of members…” And you put in all the ornaments. You write it so he cries and his whole family cries to the point of hysterics. You have a good laugh at his expense, take a pile of money from him, and there he is respecting you and bowing to you from the waist. You can wrap him round your little finger. And all their fat mothers-in-law and grandmothers will try to hunt up a rich bride for you. That’s the kind of man they like. Let’s drink!
ZHADOV. I’ve had enough!
DOSUZHEV. To my health!
ZHADOV. Well, if it’s to your health.
They drink.
DOSUZHEV. You need a lot of will power not to take bribes from them. They laugh at an honest official, and they’re only too ready to humiliate him because they find him inconvenient. So you have to be hard as flint! But really now, what’s the point in being a hero! Just worm a fur coat out of him and be done with it. The trouble is, I can’t do that. So I just take money from them for their ignorance, and I drink it up. Oh, why did you have to get married! Let’s drink. What’s your name?
ZHADOV. Vasily.
DOSUZHEV. That’s my name too. Let’s drink, Vasya.
I can see you’re a good man.
ZHADOV. What kind of a man am I! I’m still a child, with no idea of life at all. What you’ve told me is all new to me. It’s so hard on me! I just don’t know how I can bear it! Corruption all around, and I have so little strength! What did they educate us for?
DOSUZHEV. Drink, it’ll make things easier.
ZHADOV. No, no! (He lowers his head onto his arms.)
DOSUZHEV. So you won’t go with me?
ZHADOV. I won’t go. Why did you make me drink like this? What have you done to me!
DOSUZHEV. Good-bye then. From now on we’ll be friends. You’re a bit high, my friend! (He shakes Zhadov’s hand.) Vasily, my coat! (He puts on his coat.) Don’t judge me too harshly. I’m a lost man. Try to be better than me, if you can. (He goes to the door and returns.) Yes! Here’s some more advice for you. Maybe you’ll take after me and start drinking. Don’t drink wine, drink vodka. People like you and me can’t afford wine, but vodka, my friend, is the best thing. You’ll forget your troubles, and it’s cheap! Adieu! (He leaves.)
ZHADOV. No! Drinking’s no good! It doesn’t make things easier but even worse! (He becomes thoughtful. Vasily, following an order from the other room, starts up the gramophone. It plays the folk song “O Splinter.” Zhadov sings.) “O splinter, splinter of mine, splinter from birchwood!…”8
VASILY. Sir, please! That’s not good, sir! It’s not proper, sir!
Zhadov puts on his coat mechanically and leaves.
A very poor room. A window on the right, a table near the window. A mirror on the left wall.
PAULINE. (alone, looking out the window). It’s so dull, I’m bored to death! (She sings.) “Mother mine, so dear to me, sun so warm and mild! Mother mine, caress your own tiny baby child.”9 (She laughs.) What a song to come into my head! (Again she becomes thoughtful.) I could get lost just from boredom. Should I tell my fortune from cards? Why not, there’s nothing to stop me. That’s possible, possible. Whatever else, that’s left to us. (She gets the cards from out of the table.) I feel so much like talking with somebody. If only somebody would come, I’d be happy, I’d cheer up right away. But the way it is, I’m all by myself, always by myself… And there’s no getting around it, I do like to talk. When we were at Mama’s morning would come, and we’d chatter away, chatter away, and not notice how the time passed. But now there’s not a soul to talk to. Should I run over to sister’s? It’s too late for that. What a fool I was not to think of that before. (She sings.) “Mother mine, so dear to me…” Oh, I forgot I was going to tell my fortune… What should I ask about? I’ll ask if I’m going to get a new hat. (She lays out the cards.) I’m going to get it, I’m going to get it… I’ll get it, I’ll get it. (She claps her hands, becomes thoughtful, and then sings.) “Mother mine, so dear to me, sun so warm and mild! Mother mine, caress your own tiny baby child.”
Julie enters.
Hello, hello!
They kiss each other.
How glad I am to see you. Take off your hat.
JULIE. No, I just came for a minute.
PAULINE. Oh sis, how nice you look!
JULIE. Yes. Now I buy nothing but the best and latest from abroad.
PAULINE. You’re lucky, Julie.
JULIE. Yes, I can say that for myself, I’m lucky. But with you, Polly, things are just awful. You’re not in style at all. Nowadays everyone is supposed to live in luxury.
PAULINE. But what can I do? It’s not my fault, is it?
JULIE. And yesterday we were in the park.10 What fun, it was wonderful! Some merchant treated us to supper, champagne, different kinds of fruit.
PAULINE. And I stay home alone all the time, dying from boredom.
JULIE. Yes, Pauline, I’m a completely new woman. You just can’t imagine how money and the good life ennoble a person. I don’t bother any more with housework, that’s vulgar. All I bother with now is my looks. But you! You! This is awful! Tell me, please, just what is your husband doing?
PAULINE. He doesn’t even let me visit you. He tells me to stay home and work.
JULIE. How stupid! He makes himself out to be a smart man, but he doesn’t know the latest style. He ought to know that man is made for society.
PAULINE. What was that?
JULIE. Man is made for society. Who doesn’t know that? Nowadays absolutely everybody knows that.
PAULINE. Good, I’ll tell him that.
JULIE. Should you try arguing with him?
PAULINE. I’ve tried that, but it doesn’t do any good. He always comes out right, and I’m wrong.
JULIE. But he loves you, doesn’t he?
PAULINE. He loves me very much.
JULIE. And you love him?
PAULINE. I love him too.
JULIE. So, it’s your own fault, dear. You won’t get anything from men with affection. You give him affection, and he’ll just sit there not doing a thing, not thinking about you or himself.
PAULINE. He works hard.
JULIE. But what good comes from that work? My husband doesn’t work much, and you should see how we live. I must say, Onisim Panfilych is a perfect man for the house, a real head of the household. What we don’t have! And in such a short time! Where does he get it from! But your man? Really and truly, it’s a disgrace the way you’re living.
PAULINE. What he always says is, “Stay home and work. Don’t envy the others. We’ll live well too.”
JULIE. But when will that be? You’ll get old waiting, a lot of pleasure you’ll get from it then! Everyone’s patience can be exhausted.
PAULINE. But what can I do?
JULIE. He’s a tyrant, that’s all. Why waste words on him! Tell him you don’t love him, and that’s it. Or here’s what’s even better. You tell him you’re fed up with this kind of life, that you don’t want to live with him, that you’re moving to Mama’s, that he shouldn’t have any more to do with you. And I’ll let Mama know about it.
PAULINE. Good, good! I’ll pull it off with style.
JULIE. Do you think you can?
PAULINE. Of course! I can play a scene as well as any actress. After all, we were trained for that at home from childhood. But now I’m home alone all the time, and working’s no fun. I talk to myself all the time; it’s amazing how well I’ve caught onto it. Still, I’m going to feel a little sorry for him.
JULIE. Don’t you show him any pity! I brought you a hat, Polly. (She takes it out of the box.)
PAULINE. Oh, how charming! Thanks, sis, you’re a darling! (She kisses her.)
JULIE. Your old one has gotten ugly.
PAULINE. It’s disgusting! I hate to go out onto the street. But now I can tease my husband. Look, my dear, I’ll say, somebody bought this for me, and you guess who.
JULIE. There’s no way out of it, Polly, and Mama and I’ll back you up as much as we can. Only please, don’t listen to your husband. Make it very clear to him you’re not about to love him just for the fun of it. You get this into your stupid little head, why should we love our husbands for nothing? A fine thing! Tell him, “Make sure I’ll shine in society, and then I can start loving you.” Because of some crazy whim he doesn’t want you to be happy, and you keep quiet. All he has to do is ask his uncle, and they’ll give him a position just as profitable as the one my husband has.
PAULINE. I’ll start working on him right away.
JULIE. Just imagine now. You’re so pretty, dressed in style, and you’re sitting in a theater… near a light… all the men have their opera glasses on you, staring at you.
PAULINE. Don’t talk about it, sis, I’ll start to cry.
JULIE. Here’s some money for you (she gets it out of her purse); some time you might need something, and with this you can manage without your husband. We have the means, so we’ve decided to help others.
PAULINE. Thanks, sis! Only maybe he’ll get mad.
JULIE. A lot that matters! Why pay any attention to him! It’s coming from relatives, not strangers. Why, just because of him, should you go hungry! Good-bye, Pauline.
PAULINE. Good-bye, sis. (She sees her off. Julie leaves.) How clever our Julie is! But I’m an idiot, an idiot! (Seeing the box.) A new hat! A new hat! (She claps her hands.) I’ll be happy now for a whole week, if only my husband doesn’t get upset. (She sings.) “Mother mine, so dear to me…” (Etc.)
Mme Kukushkin enters.
MME KUKUSHKIN. You always have songs on your mind.
PAULINE. Hello, Mama! I sing from boredom.
MME KUKUSHKIN. I didn’t even want to visit you at all.
PAULINE. Why not, Mama?
MME KUKUSHKIN. It disgusts me, young lady, it disgusts me to visit you. But since I just happened to be going by, I dropped in. It’s so wretched here, such poverty… ugh… I can’t look at it. I’ve got cleanliness, I’ve got order, but what do you have here! It’s a peasant hut! It’s revolting.
PAULINE. But is that my fault?
MME KUKUSHKIN. What scoundrels in the world! And yet I really don’t blame him, I never did have any hopes for him. But you, miss, why do you keep quiet? I kept telling you over and over again, don’t indulge your husband. Work on him all the time, day and night. Tell him, “Give me some money and keep on giving it to me; get it where you want just as long as you give it to me.” Tell him you need this and that. Tell him Mama is a fine lady and we have to receive her in proper fashion. He’ll say, “I don’t have it.” And you’ll say, “What does that have to do with it? Give it to me if you have to steal it.” Why did he make you his wife? He knew how to get married, so he should know to support you the proper way. You keep hammering that into him from morn till night, and maybe he’ll come to his senses. In your place I wouldn’t talk about anything else.
PAULINE. But what can I do, Mama? I’m just not made of stern stuff.
MME KUKUSHKIN. No, what you’d better say is you’re made of a lot of stupid stuff, you spoil him. And do you realize that it’s your spoiling that ruins a man? All the time you have tenderness on your mind, and you’d just love to hang around his neck. You were only too glad to get married, you couldn’t wait. You have no shame at all! Never a thought about life. Whoever could you have taken after! In our family all the women are completely cold to their husbands. They think more about clothes, how to be properly dressed, how to shine in public. You can show affection to your husband, only he has to know what he’s getting that affection for. Now take Julie. When her husband brings her something from the market that’s when she throws herself around his neck, she’s glued to him, you couldn’t pull her off. That’s why he brings her gifts almost every day. But if he doesn’t bring her any she pouts and stops speaking to him for two days. You hang around their necks, they love that, that’s all they want. You should be ashamed of yourself!
PAULINE. I have a feeling I’m being stupid. But when he shows me affection I feel as glad about it as he does.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Just wait, you and I’ll gang up on him, and maybe he’ll give in. The main thing is, don’t spoil him and don’t listen to his stupid talk. He makes his point, you make yours; argue till you faint, but don’t give in. If we give in to them they’ll make us carry water. It’s that pride of his, it’s his pride we have to beat. Do you know what he has on his mind?
PAULINE. How should I know?
MME KUKUSHKIN. It’s some sort of idiotic philosophy, I heard about it in a home not too long ago, it’s all the rage now. They’ve taken it into their head that they’re smarter than everybody and that the people who take bribes are fools. How unforgivably stupid of them! What they say is, we don’t want to take bribes, we want to live on just our salary. But what kind of a life is that! Who could we marry our daughters to? Next thing you know, the human race would die out. Bribes! What kind of a word is that, bribes? They thought it up themselves, to harm good people. It’s not bribes but gratitude! And rejecting gratitude is a sin, you offend a man. Now if a man’s a bachelor, there’s no need to judge him, he can play the saintly fool as much as he wants. He doesn’t even have to take his salary. But once he marries he should know how to live with his wife and not deceive the parents. Why do they tear parents’ hearts so? Some nitwit suddenly marries a well-brought-up young lady who’s understood life from childhood, whose parents didn’t begrudge her a thing and gave her principles completely opposed to his, did everything to keep her away from stupid talk like his, and just like that he shuts her up in some stable! What do they want? To turn well-brought-up young ladies into laundry women? It’s turning the whole world upside down. If they want to get married, then marry one of those lost women who don’t give a hang whether they’re a lady or a cook, who out of love will be only too glad to wash skirts and wear themselves out going to the market through the mud. And there are women like that, women without sense.
PAULINE. That’s probably what he’d like to make of me.
MME KUKUSHKIN. What does a woman need?… A woman who’s well bred, who sees and understands everything about her like the fingers on her hand? That’s what they don’t understand. What a woman needs is good clothes, servants, and, the main thing, tranquillity, to be isolated from everything because of her noble qualities, so she doesn’t have to get involved in petty household cares. Here’s how my Julie works it: she’s not taken up with anything except herself. She sleeps late; in the morning her husband has to arrange for breakfast and the whole business. The maid gives him some tea, and off he goes to the office. At last she gets up; tea, coffee, it’s all ready for her. She eats, dresses to perfection, and sits down with a book by the window to wait for her husband. Evenings she puts on her best dress and goes to the theater or visiting. That’s what I call living! That’s what’s proper! How a lady ought to behave! What could be more exalted than that, more delicate, more tender?… That’s what I approve of.
PAULINE. That’s heaven! If I could only live that for just a week.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Well, with the husband you have, you’ve got a long wait coming!
PAULINE. You’re really letting him have it, Mama! But to tell the truth, I am envious. Whenever Julie comes she’s always wearing a new dress, and I’m always in the same old one. Here he comes now. (She goes toward the door.)
Zhadov enters carrying a briefcase. They kiss.
ZHADOV. Hello, Felisata Gerasimovna. (He sits down.) Oh, how tired I am!
Pauline sits down next to her mother.
It’s work all the time, I don’t know what it means to rest. In the morning the office, in the afternoon I give lessons, and at night I work. I bring home extracts to draw up, that pays pretty well. But you, Pauline, are always without work, always idle. I never catch you doing anything.
MME KUKUSHKIN. That’s how I raised them, they weren’t trained for work.
ZHADOV. That’s what’s so bad. It’s hard getting used to work if you haven’t been trained from childhood. But it’s necessary.
MME KUKUSHKIN. There’s no need for her to get used to it. I didn’t prepare my girls to be housemaids but to marry noble men.
ZHADOV. Our opinions differ, Felisata Gerasimovna. I want Pauline to obey me.
MME KUKUSHKIN. What you mean is that you want to make her into a working girl. But you really should have looked for a match to suit you. Excuse me for saying it, but we people don’t have those feelings about life. With us nobility is inborn.
ZHADOV. What nobility? That’s just so much talk! Something we can do well enough without.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Listening to you is sickening. Here’s what I have to tell you. If I had known that she, poor creature, would be leading such a beggar’s life, then nothing in the world would have made me give her to you.
ZHADOV. Please, I beg you, don’t go knocking it into her head that she’s an unhappy woman. She might actually believe she’s unhappy.
MME KUKUSHKIN. And is she happy? It should be clear enough, she’s miserable. I don’t know what anyone else in her place might have done.
Pauline cries.
ZHADOV. Pauline, stop being foolish, think of me!
PAULINE. You always find me foolish. Looks like you don’t like it when people tell you the truth.
ZHADOV. What do you mean, the truth?
PAULINE. The truth, that’s all. Mama’s not about to tell lies.
ZHADOV. You and I’ll discuss this later.
PAULINE. There’s nothing to discuss. (She turns away.)
MME KUKUSHKIN. That’s right.
ZHADOV (sighs). Troubles!
Mme Kukushkin and Pauline pay no attention to him while they talk together in a whisper. Zhadov gets some papers out of his briefcase, lays them on the table, and, during the course of the following conversation, looks around at them.
MME KUKUSHKIN (loudly). Just imagine, Pauline, I was over at Belogubov’s, he bought his wife a velvet dress.
PAULINE (in tears). Velvet! What color?
MME KUKUSHKIN. Cherry.
PAULINE (cries). Oh Lord! When I think how well it suits her.
MME KUKUSHKIN. It’s really amazing! Can you imagine what a playful rogue that Belogubov is! He made me laugh, he truly made me laugh. Look here, Mama, he says, I have a complaint to make against my wife. I bought her a velvet dress, and she kissed me so hard she even bit me, and it hurt a lot. Now that’s what I call living! That’s what I call love! Not what you find with some people.
ZHADOV. This is unbearable! (He gets up.)
MME KUKUSHKIN (gets up). Allow me to ask you, dear sir, what is she suffering for? Answer me that.
ZHADOV. She’s already left your care and come under mine, so leave it to me to arrange her life. Believe me, it will be better.
MME KUKUSHKIN. But I’m her mother, dear sir.
ZHADOV. And I’m her husband.
MME KUKUSHKIN. We can see what kind of a husband you are! The love of a husband can never be compared with that of parents.
ZHADOV. What kind of parents!
MME KUKUSHKIN. It doesn’t matter what kind, you’d still be no match for them. I’ll tell you, dear sir, what kind of parents we were! My husband and I put money together coin by coin so we could bring up our daughters and send them to boarding school. And why do you think we did this? So they’d have good manners, wouldn’t see poverty around them, wouldn’t have to look at common objects. So the child wouldn’t be weighed down but from childhood would be trained for the good life, for nobility in word and deed.
ZHADOV. Thank you. For almost a year now I’ve been trying to knock your training out of her, but I just can’t. I think I’d give half my life if she could only forget it.
MME KUKUSHKIN. But you surely don’t think I raised her for a life like this, do you? I’d rather have my hand cut off than see my daughter in such a condition—in poverty, suffering, misery.
ZHADOV. Please, we’ve had enough of your pity.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Do you think they lived this way with me? I have things in order, I have it clean. I didn’t have great means, but they lived like countesses and were perfectly innocent; they didn’t know where the entrance to the kitchen was; they didn’t know what went into cabbage soup. All they troubled themselves about as proper young ladies was conversation about feelings and matters of a noble nature.
ZHADOV (indicating his wife). Yes, and such low depravity as your family has is something I’ve never seen.
MME KUKUSHKIN. How can people like you have any appreciation of a noble upbringing! It’s my own fault, I was in too much of a hurry! If she had married a man with tender feelings and some breeding, he wouldn’t have known how to thank me for the training I gave her. And she would have been happy, because decent men don’t force their wives to work, that’s what they have servants for. But what a wife is for…
ZHADOV (quickly). What is she for?
MME KUKUSHKIN. What is she for? Who doesn’t know that? As everyone knows, she’s for being dressed up as well as possible, for being admired, for being taken out into society. She should get all kinds of pleasures, have her every whim carried out like a law, be adored.
ZHADOV. Shame on you! You’re a woman of years, you’ve lived to old age, raised daughters and trained them, and you don’t know why a wife is given to a man. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself! A wife is not a plaything but a husband’s helpmate. You’re a bad mother!
MME KUKUSHKIN. Yes, I know you’d just love to make your wife into a cook. You’re a man without feelings!
ZHADOV. Stop spouting nonsense!
PAULINE. Mama, leave him alone.
MME KUKUSHKIN. No, I won’t leave him alone. What made you think I’d leave him alone?
ZHADOV. Stop it. I’m not going to listen to you any more, and I won’t allow my wife to. All you have left in your old age is a head full of empty air.
MME KUKUSHKIN. What kind of talk is that, what kind of talk, eh?
ZHADOV. Between you and me there can’t be any other kind of talk. Please, leave us alone. I love Pauline, and it’s my responsibility to take care of her. Your talk is harmful for Pauline and immoral too.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Don’t you get too worked up, dear sir!
ZHADOV. You don’t understand one single thing.
MME KUKUSHKIN (spitefully). I don’t understand? No, I understand very well. I’ve seen some of those cases where women perish from poverty. Poverty can lead to anything. Those women struggle and struggle, and then they go astray. You can’t even blame them.
ZHADOV. What! How can you say such things in front of your daughter! Spare us your presence… right now, right now.
MME KUKUSHKIN. When there’s cold and hunger in a home and the husband’s a lazybones, then, whether you like it or not, you’ve got to look for means…
ZHADOV. Leave us, I’m asking you nicely. You’ll exhaust my patience.
MME KUKUSHKIN. Don’t worry, I’m going, and I’ll never set foot in your house again. (To Pauline.) What a husband you have! It’s awful! Terrible!
PAULINE. Good-bye, Mama.(She cries.)
MME KUKUSHKIN. Cry, cry, unhappy victim, mourn your fate! Cry to the grave itself! You’d even do better to die, poor creature, than break my heart so. It would be easier for me. (To Zhadov.) Enjoy your triumph! You’ve done your work: you tricked her, made her believe you were in love with her, seduced her with words, and then ruined her. That’s what your whole aim was, I understand you now. (She leaves.)
Pauline sees her off.
ZHADOV. I’m going to have to talk more strictly with Pauline. If I don’t, they’ll mix her up completely.
Pauline returns, sits down by the window, and sulks. Zhadov lays out his papers and sits down by the table.
I suppose Felisata Gerasimovna won’t be visiting us any more, which makes me very glad. I wish you wouldn’t visit her any more, Pauline, or the Belogubovs either.
PAULINE. You’re not ordering me to give up all my relatives for you, are you?
ZHADOV. It’s not for me but yourself. They have such savage ideas! I’m teaching you good, and they’re corrupting you.
PAULINE. It’s too late to teach me, I’ve been taught already.
ZHADOV. It would be horrible for me if I thought what you said is true. No, I hope at long last you’ll understand me. I have a lot of work now, but when things lighten up, you and I can occupy ourselves together. In the morning you’ll work, and in the evening we’ll read. You have a lot to read; after all, you haven’t read anything.
PAULINE. So, now I’m supposed to stay home with you! A lot of fun that’ll be! Man is created for society.
ZHADOV. What?
PAULINE. Man is created for society.
ZHADOV. Where did you pick that up?
PAULINE. You really take me for a fool. Who doesn’t know that? Everybody does. Do you think you took me in off the street?
ZHADOV. But for society one has to prepare oneself, educate oneself.
PAULINE. None of that’s needed, that’s all nonsense. All you need is to dress in style.
ZHADOV. Well, that’s precisely what we can’t do, so there’s no point in talking about it. You’d do better to busy yourself with something, and I’ll get to work. (He takes his pen.)
PAULINE. Busy myself with something! Where did you get that idea? You’ve been giving orders long enough… ordering me about and treating me like a fool.
ZHADOV (turning around). What is this, Pauline?
PAULINE. What it is is that I want to live the way people live and not like beggars. I’m fed up. Living with you has ruined my youth.
ZHADOV. That’s something new! I haven’t heard that before.
PAULINE. You haven’t heard it, then listen. Do you think that because I’ve kept quiet almost a year I’m going to keep quiet forever? No, pardon me! But why talk about it! I want to live the way Julie’s living, the way all noble ladies live. That’s it!
ZHADOV. So that’s what it is! Only let me ask you this. Where are we going to get what it takes to live like that?
PAULINE. What does that have to do with me! The man who loves finds a way to get what it takes.
ZHADOV. But think of me. As it is I’m working like an ox.
PAULINE. Whether you work or don’t work is no concern of mine. I didn’t marry you for a life of affliction and tyranny.
ZHADOV. You people have worn me all out today. For God’s sake, don’t say another word!
PAULINE. You have a long wait before I stop talking! Thanks to you the whole world’s laughing at me. How much shame I’ve had to endure! Sis is taking pity on me already. Today she came and said to me, “You’re putting us to shame, our whole family, just look what you’re going around in!” Doesn’t that make you feel ashamed? And yet you tried to make me believe that you love me. With her own money she bought a hat and brought it here for me.
ZHADOV (gets up). A hat?
PAULINE. Yes, it’s over there. Look at it. What do you think, isn’t it pretty?
ZHADOV (sternly). Take it back right away.
PAULINE. Back?
ZHADOV. Yes, right away, right away, take it back! And don’t you dare take anything from them.
PAULINE. Well, that’s something that’s not going to happen, you can be sure of that.
ZHADOV. Then I’ll throw it out the window.
PAULINE. Oh! So that’s what you’ve come to? Very well, my friend, I’ll take it back.
ZHADOV. Take it back then.
PAULINE (in tears). I’ll take it back, I’ll take it back. (She puts on her hat and cloak, takes her umbrella.) Good-bye, sir.
ZHADOV. Good-bye.
PAULINE. It’s good-bye for good. You won’t be seeing me any more.
ZHADOV. What kind of nonsense is that?
PAULINE. I’m going to Mama’s, and I’m going to stay there. Don’t you come to us either.
ZHADOV. That’s stupid, Pauline!
PAULINE. No, I’ve been thinking it over a long time! (She traces on the floor with her umbrella.) What kind of a life do I have here? Nothing but suffering, no joy at all!
ZHADOV. Aren’t you ashamed to talk like that? Have you really had no joy with me?
PAULINE. What joy? If you were rich, that would be something else, but as it is, I have to endure poverty. What kind of joy is that! The other day you came home drunk, you’ll probably be beating me next.
ZHADOV. Oh good heavens! Why do you say things like that? One time I came home a bit high… Where’s there a man who doesn’t get drunk sometimes?
PAULINE. We know what that poverty can lead to, Mama told me. You’ll take up drinking, and I’ll be ruined along with you.
ZHADOV. This is all nonsense that’s gotten into your head!
PAULINE. But what is there for me to look forward to? I’ve already told my fortune at cards, and I asked a fortune teller too. It all comes out I’m going to be terribly unhappy.
ZHADOV (grabs himself by the head). She tells her fortune with cards! She goes to fortune tellers!
PAULINE. I suppose you think cards are nonsense! No, pardon me, never in my life will I believe that! Cards never lie; they always tell the truth. You can even tell right off what a person’s thinking from cards. You don’t believe in anything, with you everything is just nonsense; that’s why you don’t have any happiness.
ZHADOV (tenderly). Pauline. (He goes toward her.)
PAULINE (moving away). Do me a favor, leave me alone.
ZHADOV. No, you don’t love me.
PAULINE. And why should I love you? Why should one love for nothing?
ZHADOV (heatedly). For nothing? For nothing? For your love I pay you with love. After all, you’re my wife! Or have you forgotten? It is your duty to share with me both grief and joy… even if I were the lowest of beggars.
PAULINE (sits down on a chair, throws back her head, and bursts out laughing). Ha, ha, ha, ha!
ZHADOV. This is really disgusting! It’s immoral!
PAULINE (gets up quickly). What I don’t understand is why you want to live with an immoral woman. Good-bye, sir.
ZHADOV. Go on, good-bye. If you can desert your husband without a care, then good-bye. (He sits down at the table and supports his head with his hands.)
PAULINE. But what’s so surprising! Fish look for deeper water, people for something better.
ZHADOV. All right, good-bye, good-bye.
PAULINE (before the mirror). A hat’s a hat, but it’s different when it’s mine. (She sings.) “Mother mine, so dear to me, sun so warm and mild…” You walk down the street, and someone’s sure to look at you and say, “Oh, how pretty!” Good-bye, sir. (She makes a curtsy and leaves.)
ZHADOV (alone). What a character I have! What’s it good for? I can’t even get along with my wife! What can I do now? God! I’ll go mad. Without her there’s no reason for me to go on living. How this happened I just don’t understand. How could I let her get away from me! What will she do at her mother’s! There she’ll go to the dogs completely. Marya! Marya!
Marya off stage: “What is it?”
Run after the mistress and tell her I have to talk with her a bit. And hurry, hurry!… Really, Marya, how slow you are! Run, run fast!
Marya off stage: “Right away!”
But suppose she doesn’t want to come back? And she’d be acting very well, quite within her rights. How is she at fault if I can’t support her properly? She’s pretty, only eighteen, she wants to live, wants some pleasure. And I keep her shut up in one room, I’m not home all day. A nice kind of love! So now I can live alone! Great! Wonderful!… An orphan again, what better! In the morning to the office, after the office no reason to go home, so I’ll stay in the tavern till evening when I’ll go home to solitude and a cold bed… I’ll burst into tears! And so on day after day. Very good! (He cries.) Well, so what! You didn’t know how to live with your wife, so live alone. No, I’ll have to decide on something. Either I must part with her or… live… live… the way people live. That’s something I’ll have to think about. (He becomes thoughtful.) Part? Do I have the strength to part with her? How long have I lived with her? Oh, how it hurts, how it hurts! No, really it would be better… why try to fight windmills!11 What am I saying! What thoughts are coming into my head!
Pauline enters.
PAULINE (sits down without taking off her coat). What do you want?
ZHADOV (runs up to her). You’ve come, you’ve come! You’ve come back!… Aren’t you ashamed! You got me so upset, so upset. Pauline, I can’t pull my thoughts together, I’ve lost all control of myself. (He kisses her hands.) Pauline, my friend!
PAULINE. Don’t you go playing your tender tricks on me.
ZHADOV. You were joking, Pauline, weren’t you? You won’t leave me, will you?
PAULINE. What’s so interesting living with you? It’s just misery!
ZHADOV. You’re killing me, Pauline! If you don’t love, then at least take pity on me. You know how much I love you.
PAULINE. Yes, it’s clear enough. The way some people love.
ZHADOV. How could I love any more? How? Tell me, I’ll do anything you say.
PAULINE. Then go right now to your uncle and make it up with him. Ask him for the same kind of position that Belogubov has, and while you’re at it, ask for some money, we’ll pay it back when we get rich.
ZHADOV. Not for anything in the world, not for anything in the world! Don’t say that to me.
PAULINE. Then why did you bring me back? You want to make fun of me? I’ve had enough of that, now I’ve gotten smarter. Good-bye. (She stands up.)
ZHADOV. Wait! Wait, Pauline! Let me talk with you a bit.
PAULINE (before the mirror). What’s there to talk about? We’ve already talked it all over.
ZHADOV (pleading). No, no, Pauline, not all yet. There’s a lot, there’s still a lot I have to tell you. There’s a lot you don’t know. If I could only tell right away what’s in my soul, tell you what I’ve thought and dreamed about, how happy I’d be! Let’s talk a bit, Pauline, let’s talk a bit. Only listen, in God’s name, I’m asking this one favor.
PAULINE. Talk.
ZHADOV (heatedly). Listen, listen! (He takes her by the hand.) Always, Pauline, in every era there have been people, and even now there are, people who go against antiquated social customs and conditions. This is not because of their caprice, not because they will it. No, it’s because the principles they have come to know are better, more honorable than the principles which rule society. And these people haven’t just thought up the principles by themselves. They’ve heard them from preachers and professors, read about them in the best literary works, ours and foreign ones. They’ve been raised on them and want to put them into effect. That this is not easy, I grant you. Social vices are strong, the ignorant majority is powerful. The fight is hard and often fatal, but all the more glory to those who are chosen; on them will be bestowed the blessing of posterity; without them falsehood, evil, and coercion would grow until people are cut off from the sun’s light…
PAULINE (looks at him with amazement). You’ve gone crazy, plumb crazy! And you want me to listen to you; with you I’d lose what few brains I have.
ZHADOV. But listen to me, Pauline!
PAULINE. No, I’d be better off listening to smart people.
ZHADOV. And who are these smart people you’ll listen to?
PAULINE. Who? Sis, Belogubov.
ZHADOV. And you compare me with Belogubov?
PAULINE. Oh come now! What makes you so important? Everybody knows Belogubov’s better than you. His superiors respect him, he loves his wife, is a wonderful man for the house, has his own horses… And what about you? All you do is brag…(Imitating him.) “I’m smart, I’m noble, they’re all fools, they’re all bribetakers!”
ZHADOV. What a tone you’ve taken! What manners! How disgusting!
PAULINE. Now you’re abusing me again! Good-bye! (She starts to go.)
ZHADOV (holds her back). Hold on, wait a bit.
PAULINE. Let me go.
ZHADOV. No, wait, wait! Polly, my friend, wait a bit. (He grabs her dress.)
PAULINE (she laughs). Why are you holding me! What a character you are! I want to go, so don’t stop me.
ZHADOV. But what can I do with you? What can I do with my dear Pauline?
PAULINE. Go to Uncle and make it up with him.
ZHADOV. Wait, wait, let me think a bit.
PAULINE. Think a bit.
ZHADOV. You know I love you, for you I’m ready to do anything in the world… But what you’re proposing to me!… It’s horrible!… No, I must think some. Yes, yes, yes, yes… I must think some… I must think some… So, if I don’t go to Uncle, you’ll leave me?
PAULINE. I’ll leave.
ZHADOV. You’ll leave for good?
PAULINE. For good. I don’t have to tell you ten times, I’m sick of it. Good-bye!
ZHADOV. Wait, wait! (He sits down at the table, supports his head with his hands, and becomes thoughtful.)
PAULINE. How long am I supposed to wait!
ZHADOV (almost in tears). You know what, Pauline? It’s really nice, isn’t it, when a pretty wife is well dressed?
PAULINE (with feeling). It’s very nice!
ZHADOV. That’s it, yes, yes… (He shouts.) Yes, yes! (He stamps his feet.) And it’s nice to go riding with her in a good carriage?
PAULINE. Oh, how nice!
ZHADOV. After all, a man has to love his young pretty wife, has to cherish her… (He shouts.) Yes, yes, yes! A man has to dress her up… (Calming down) Very well then, all right… all right… It’s easy enough to do! (In despair.) Goodbye, dreams of my youth! Good-bye, great lessons! Good-bye, my honorable future! I’ll still reach old age, I’ll still have gray hair, I’ll still have children…
PAULINE. What’s wrong with you, what’s wrong?
ZHADOV. No, no! We’ll raise our children on strict principles. Let them be outside their time. There’s no need for children to look at their father for an example.
PAULINE. Stop it!
ZHADOV. Let me cry a bit, since it’s the last time I’ll be crying in my life. (He sobs.)
PAULINE. What’s happened to you?
ZHADOV. Nothing… nothing… it’ll be easy… easy… everything is easy in this world. The only requirement is that I not be reminded of anything! And that’s a simple matter! This is what I’ll do…I’ll keep away, hide out from my old friends… I won’t go to those places where they talk about honor, the sacredness of duty… I’ll work all week long, and on Fridays and Saturdays I’ll get together with all the Belogubovs and get drunk on stolen money, like some highway robber… yes, yes… And I’ll get used to all that.
PAULINE. (almost crying). You’re saying something bad.
ZHADOV. And I’ll sing songs… Do you know this song? (He sings.)
Just take, no need for rhyme or reason.
Just take whatever’s there to get.
Men’s hands are always in good season.
They want to get and get and get.12
Isn’t that a pretty song?
PAULINE. I’ll never understand what’s happened to you.
ZHADOV. Let’s go to Uncle and ask him for a profitable position!
He puts his hat on carelessly and takes his wife by the hand. They leave.
Room of the first act. Anton gives a letter on a tray to Mme Vyshnevsky and leaves.
MME VYSHNEVSKY (reads). “Dear Madame, Anna Pavlovna. Pardon me if you do not like my letter; your behavior towards me justifies mine towards you. I have heard that you are making fun of me and showing strangers my letters, written in love and passion. You cannot know of my position in society and to what degree such conduct on your part compromises me. I’m not a child. What right do you have to act this way with me? My attempt to seek your favor was completely justified by your conduct, which, as you yourself must admit, was not above reproach. And though society permits me as a man to enjoy certain liberties, I still don’t want to look ridiculous. But you have made me a conversation piece in the whole town. You know my relations with Lyubimov; I already told you that among the papers left after his death I found several of your letters. I offered to give them to you. All you had to do was overcome your pride and agree with social opinion that I am one of the handsomest of men and enjoy unusual success with the ladies. It was your pleasure to treat me with scorn. In such a case you must excuse me, but I have decided to hand those letters over to your husband.” There’s nobility for you! Ugh! How disgusting! Oh well, it doesn’t matter, it all had to end sometime. I’m not one of those women who, with calculated depravity, try to cover up an act of passion. What nice men we have! A man forty years old, with a beautiful wife, starts making advances to me, saying and doing stupid things. What’s his justification? Passion? What passion? He must have lost the ability to fall in love at the age of eighteen. No, it’s very simple. He heard some gossip about me, and he considers me an accessible woman. And so, not standing on ceremony, he starts writing me passionate letters, full of the cheapest kind of tender sentiments, obviously thought out very deliberately. He’ll make the rounds in ten living rooms, and then he’ll come to comfort me. He says he’s above cold heartless society with its proprieties and laws, that he scorns social opinion, that in his eyes passion justifies all. He swears he’s in love, speaks cliches, and when he wants to give his face a passionate expression he puts on strange and sour smiles. He doesn’t even go to the trouble of pretending he’s in love. Why bother? It’ll all work out all right just so long as the formalities are observed. If you make fun of a man like that or show him the contempt he deserves, he thinks he has the right to avenge himself. For him ridicule is more horrible than the worst of vices. He can brag about an affair with a woman, that does him honor, but show his letters and that’s a calamity, it compromises him. He himself feels that his letters are ridiculous and stupid. What does he take those women for, the ones he writes such letters? His like has no conscience! And now, in a burst of noble indignation, he is acting meanly toward me, no doubt considering himself in the right. And he’s not the only one, they’re all like that… Well, so much the better, at least I’ll have things out with my husband. I even want to have things out. He’ll see that if I’m guilty towards him, then he’s even more guilty towards me. He destroyed my whole life. With his selfishness he dried up my heart, deprived me of family happiness, made me cry over my lost youth. I spent my youth with him in trivialities, without feeling, at a time when my soul was craving for life, for love. In the empty and petty circle of his acquaintances which he led me into, all my best spiritual qualities were strangled, all my noble aspirations were frozen. And besides that my conscience bothers me for an act I was not in a position to avoid.
Yusov enters, noticeably upset.
YUSOV (bowing). He hasn’t come yet, ma’am?
MME VYSHNEVSKY. Not yet. Sit down.
Yusov sits down.
Has something upset you?
YUSOV. There aren’t any words for it, ma’am… my mouth can’t speak.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. But what is it?
YUSOV (shakes his head). Man all the same… is a ship at sea… suddenly a shipwreck, and nobody there to save him!…
MME VYSHNEVSKY. I don’t understand you.
YUSOV. I’m talking about frailty… what is enduring in this life? What will we take with us when we enter that life?… Certain dealings… one might say, a burden on one’s back… have been exposed… and even things in the planning stage… (Waves his hand.) They’ve all been recorded.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. But what is it, did somebody die?
YUSOV. No, Ma’am, it’s a setback in life. (He takes some snuff.) In wealth and fame can occur an eclipse… of our feelings… we forget our poor brethren… pride, physical pleasure… Because of that we get punished for our affairs.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. I’ve known that a long time; only I don’t understand why you’re wasting your eloquence on me for no good reason.
YUSOV. It’s close to my heart… Even though I don’t have to answer for much in this business… still, to see it happen to such a high person! What is lasting?… When even a man’s rank doesn’t protect him.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. Happen to what high person?
YUSOV. We’re in disfavor, ma’am.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. Go on.
YUSOV. There’s been brought to light some alleged negligence, shortages of funds, certain irregularities.
YUSOV. So we’re being brought to trial, ma’am… That is, I personally won’t be especially accountable, but Aristarkh Vladimirych will have to…
MME VYSHNEVSKY. Have to what?
YUSOV. He’ll have to answer for all his property and undergo trial for supposedly illegal procedures.
MME VYSHNEVSKY (lifting her eyes). The atonement is beginning!
YUSOV. Of course, it’s a fatal blow… They’ll look for some pretext, and they’ll probably find something. They’re so strict now I suppose they’ll dismiss me… I’ll live in poverty without a crust of bread.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. I’m sure you’re a long way from that.
YUSOV. But then there are the children, ma’am.
Silence.
I kept thinking on the way, in sorrow, why has God’s visitation come upon us? It’s because of pride… Pride blinds a man, clouds his eyes.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. Really now, what does pride have to do with it? It’s simply for taking bribes.
YUSOV. Bribes? Bribes are of no great importance… lots of people have been subjected to them. There’s no humility, that’s the main thing… Fate is just like fortune… the way it’s shown in that picture13… There’s a wheel with people on it, it takes them up and then brings them down, they’re elevated and then they’re humbled, exalted and then nothing… So it’s all a circle. You establish your well-being, you work, you gain property… You fly high in your dreams… and just like that you’re naked!… There’s an inscription below that wheel of fortune, and it reads like this…(with feeling)
Marvelous is earthly man!
Striving all his lifelong span,
Happiness to him is dear,
Yet to him is not this clear:
Fate his course doth surely steer.
That’s how you have to get down to the bottom of things! That’s what a man has to remember! We are born with nothing, and that’s how we’ll go into the grave. What do we labor for? There’s room for philosophy! What is our mind? What can it comprehend?
Vyshnevsky enters and silently passes into his study. Yusov gets up.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. How he’s changed!
YUSOV. You should send for a doctor. A little while ago at the office he started feeling bad. Such a blow… for a man of noble feelings… how can he bear it!
MME VYSHNEVSKY (rings. The boyservant enters). Go for the doctor. Ask him to come as fast as he can.
Vyshnevsky comes out and sits down in an armchair. Mme. Vyshnevsky goes toward him.
I heard from Akim Akimych that you had a misfortune. Don’t take it too much to heart.
Silence.
You’ve changed completely. Do you feel bad? I sent for the doctor.
VYSHNEVSKY. Such hypocrisy! Such lowdown lying! Such meanness!
MME VYSHNEVSKY (proudly). I’m not lying at all! I’m just sorry for you, as I’d be sorry for anyone in misfortune, nothing more, nothing less. (She goes away and sits down.)
VYSHNEVSKY. I don’t want your sympathy. Don’t be sorry for me! I’m dishonored, ruined! And why?
MME VYSHNEVSKY. Ask your conscience.
VYSHNEVSKY. You’re a fine one to talk about conscience! You have no right to talk about it… Yusov! Why have I been ruined?
YUSOV. Life has its ups and downs… it’s fate, sir.
VYSHNEVSKY. Nonsense, what fate! It’s powerful enemies, that’s why! That’s what ruined me! Damn them all! They envied me my good situation. And why shouldn’t they? In a few years a man rises to the top, gets rich, creates his own prosperity boldly, builds himself homes and summer cottages, buys up estate after estate, he’s head and shoulders over them. So why shouldn’t they be envious! A man goes to wealth and honors as easily as walking up the stairs. To overtake or at least catch up to him they need brains, they need genius. There’s nowhere for them to get the brains, so they trip him up. I’m choking with rage…
YUSOV. Envy can move men to anything…
VYSHNEVSKY. It’s not my downfall that makes me mad, no, but the triumph I’m giving them with my downfall. What talk there’ll be now, what joy! Damn it all, that’s what I won’t be able to bear! (He rings.)
Anton enters.
Water!…
Anton gives him some water and leaves.
Now I want to have a little talk with you.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. What do you want?
VYSHNEVSKY. I want to tell you that you are a depraved woman.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. Aristarkh Vladimirych, we’re not alone.
YUSOV. Would you like me to leave, sir?
VYSHNEVSKY. Stay! I’d say the same things in front of all the servants.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. Why are you humiliating me like this? You want someone to take out your spite on. It’s not right!
VYSHNEVSKY. There’s the justification for my words.
He throws an envelope and some letters. Yusov picks them up and hands them to Mme Vyshnevsky.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. Thank you. (She looks them over convulsively and puts them away in her pocket.)
VYSHNEVSKY. Yusov, what do they do with a woman who, despite all her husband’s good deeds, forgets her duty?
YUSOV. Hmm…hmm…
VYSHNEVSKY. I’ll tell you. They drive her out in shame! Yes, Yusov, I’m unfortunate, completely unfortunate, and I’m not alone. Don’t you abandon me at least. No matter how high a man is placed, when he’s in grief he still looks to his family for comfort. (With spite.) But what I find in my family is…
MME VYSHNEVSKY. Don’t talk about your family! You never had one. You don’t even know what a family is! Let me tell you, Aristarkh Vladimirych, all I’ve had to endure, living with you.
VYSHNEVSKY. For you there are no justifications.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. I don’t want to justify myself, I don’t need to. For a momentary passion I have borne much grief and a lot of humiliation, but believe me, I haven’t complained against fate and cursed like you. I only want to tell you that if I’m guilty, it is towards myself alone and not towards you. You have no right to reproach me. If you had a heart, you would feel how you destroyed me.
VYSHNEVSKY. Ha, ha! Accuse somebody else for your behavior, not me.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. No, you. Did you really choose a wife? Remember how you courted me! I didn’t hear a word about family life. You acted like an old flirt trying to seduce a young woman with gifts, looked at me with voluptuous eyes. You saw my aversion to you, and yet, despite that, you bought me with money from my parents, the way they buy slaves in Turkey. So what do you want from me?
VYSHNEVSKY. You’re my wife, don’t forget that! And I have the right to demand that you fulfill your duty.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. Yes, and your purchase, you didn’t sanctify it with marriage, you concealed it with the mask of marriage. Otherwise it would have been impossible, my parents wouldn’t have consented. But for you it was all the same. And later too, when you were already my husband, you didn’t treat me as your wife; you tried to buy my caresses with money. If you saw I had any aversion to you, you came running with some expensive gift, and then you could come boldly, with a full right. So what could I do?… After all, you’re my husband; I submitted. Oh! One stops respecting oneself. How one despises oneself! That’s what you brought me to. But what happened to me later, when I found out that even the money you were giving me… wasn’t yours, that you had gotten it dishonestly…
VYSHNEVSKY (gets up). Be quiet!
MME VYSHNEVSKY. All right, I’ll be quiet about that, you’ve been punished enough for it, but I’ll keep on about myself.
VYSHNEVSKY. You can say what you want, I don’t care. You won’t change my opinion of you.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. Perhaps you’ll change your opinion of yourself after I’ve spoken. You remember how I avoided society, I was afraid of it. And with good reason. But you insisted, and I had to give in. So there I was, completely unprepared, with no advice, no guide, and you took me into your circle with its temptation and vice at every step. With nobody to warn me or support me! All the same, by myself I came to see all the pettiness and all the depravity of your acquaintances. I watched out for myself. That was when I met Lyubimov in society, you knew him. You remember his open face, his bright eyes, how intelligent and pure he was! How ardently he argued with you, how boldly he spoke out about any lie or wrong! He said what I was already feeling, even if vaguely. I waited for your reply. You had none, you simply slandered him, behind his back thought up vile gossip, and you tried to lower him in public opinion. How I would have liked to intercede for him, but I didn’t have the chance or enough cleverness. There was only one thing I could do… fall in love with him.
VYSHNEVSKY. So that’s exactly what you did?
MME VYSHNEVSKY. So that’s exactly what I did. I saw later how you destroyed him, how little by little you reached your goal. That is, not just you but everyone who found it useful. At first you armed society against him, saying that knowing him was dangerous for young people. Then you kept repeating that he was a freethinker, a harmful man, and you set his superiors against him. He was forced to leave the civil service, to leave his relatives, to leave here… and he died far away. (She covers her eyes with her handkerchief.) I saw all this, but I endured it. I saw how spite triumphed and how you still considered me the girl you had bought and who must be grateful and love you for your gifts. Out of my pure relations with him people made vile gossip, and ladies began to scandalize me openly, though secretly they were jealous of me. Young and old Don Juans started running after me without ceremony. That’s what you brought me to, a woman able to understand the true meaning of life and to hate evil! That’s all I wanted to tell you. You’ll never hear any more reproach from me.
VYSHNEVSKY. And that’s a mistake. I’m a poor man now, and poor men let their wives abuse them. They can do it. If I were Vyshnevsky as he was before today, I’d kick you out without another word, but now, thanks to our enemies, we’ve been cast out of the circle of decent people. In lower circles husbands quarrel with their wives, and sometimes they come to blows, and that doesn’t scandalize anybody.
Zhadov enters with his wife.
Why are you here?
ZHADOV. Uncle, forgive me…
PAULINE. Hello, Uncle! Hello, Uncle! (She whispers to Mme. Vyshnevsky.) He’s come to ask for a position. (She sits down next to Mme. Vyshnevsky.)
MME VYSHNEVSKY. What! Really! (She looks at Zhadov with curiosity.)
VYSHNEVSKY. You’ve come to laugh at your uncle!
ZHADOV. Uncle, perhaps I offended you. Forgive me… it was the enthusiasm of youth, the ignorance of life… I didn’t have the right…you’re my relative.
VYSHNEVSKY. So?
ZHADOV. I’ve come to feel what it means to live without support… without someone’s helpful influence… I’m a married man.
VYSHNEVSKY. What are you trying to say?
ZHADOV. I live in a very poor way… For me there’d be enough, but for my wife, whom I love very much… Give me permission to work under you again… Uncle, take care of me! Give me a position where I… could… (quietly) acquire something.
PAULINE (to Mme. Vyshnevsky). Some income.
VYSHNEVSKY (bursts out laughing). Ha, ha, ha! Yusov! There they are, our heroes! The young man who shouted at every street corner about bribetakers, who talked about some sort of new generation, comes and asks us for a profitable position so he can take bribes! The wonderful new generation! Ha, ha, ha!
ZHADOV (gets up). Oh! (He clutches his chest.)
YUSOV. You were young! So how could you talk sense! It was all nothing but words… Which is what they’ll stay, just words. Life will tell. (He takes some snuff.) You’ll give up that philosophy. The only bad thing is, you should have listened to smart people before, instead of getting rude.
VYSHNEVSKY (to Yusov). No, Yusov, you remember the tone he took! How self-assured he was! What indignation towards vice! (To Zhadov, becoming more and more excited.) Weren’t you the one who said that a new generation is growing up, educated and honest men, martyrs of the truth, men who would expose us and shower us with mud? Wasn’t that you? I’ll have to confess, I believed it. I hated you profoundly… I feared you. Yes, I’m not joking. And so how does it turn out! You are honest only until those lessons they drilled into you have lost their strength, honest only until you have your first encounter with need! So you’ve given me something to be happy about, I must say!… No, you’re not worth hating. I despise you!
ZHADOV. Despise me, despise me. I despise myself.
VYSHNEVSKY. Certain people have taken for themselves the privilege of judging what’s honorable! You and I’ve been put to shame because of them! They’ve put us on trial…
ZHADOV. What did you say!
YUSOV. People… are always people.
ZHADOV. Uncle, I didn’t say our generation is more honest than others. There have always been and always will be honest people, honest citizens, honest officials; there have always been and always will be weak people. I myself am proof of that. All I said was that in our time (He starts quietly and gradually gets worked up.) society is little by little casting off its previous indifference to vice, you can hear strong cries against the evils of society… I said that an awareness of our defects is waking in us and that in this awareness there is hope for a better future. I said that public opinion is beginning to be formed… that among the youth a feeling of justice is growing, a feeling of duty, and it’s growing, is growing and will bear fruit. If you won’t live to see it, then we will, and we’ll thank God for it. There’s no reason for you to be happy about my weakness. I’m no hero; I’m just an ordinary, weak man. I have little strength of will, like almost all of us. Need, circumstances, lack of education in relatives, and corruption all around me can wear me down the way people wear down horses on the highway. But all I need is one lesson, even if it has to be like this… I’m grateful to you for it. I need just one meeting with a decent man to resurrect me, to help me stay firm. I can waver, but I won’t commit a crime; I can stumble, but I won’t fall. My heart has already been softened by education, it won’t become coarse in vice.
Silence.
I don’t know where to go from shame… Yes, I’m ashamed, ashamed that I’m here.
VYSHNEVSKY (rising). Then get out!
ZHADOV (meekly). I’ll go. Pauline, now you can go to Mama’s; I won’t hold you back. I won’t betray myself now. If fate leads me to nothing but black bread, I’ll eat nothing but black bread. No comforts will tempt me, no! I want to keep the precious right of looking all men straight in the eye, without shame, without secret pangs of conscience. I want to read and see satires and comedies about bribetakers where I can laugh freely and openly. If my whole life consists of toil and deprivation, I won’t complain…There’s just one consolation I’ll ask from God, one reward I’ll look forward to. Can you imagine what that is?
I’ll look forward to the time when bribetakers will fear the judgment of society more than that of the courts.
VYSHNEVSKY (rises). I’ll strangle you with my bare hands. (He staggers.) Yusov, I feel bad. Take me to the study. (He goes with Yusov.)
PAULINE (goes up to Zhadov). Did you think I really wanted to leave you? I did it all on purpose. They put me up to it.
MME VYSHNEVSKY. Make it up, children.
Zhadov and Pauline kiss.
YUSOV (in the doorway). A doctor, a doctor!
MME VYSHNEVSKY (rising in her armchair). What is it, what is it?
YUSOV. Aristarkh Vladimirych has had a stroke!
MME VYSHNEVSKY (crying out weakly). Oh! (She sinks down in the armchair.)
Pauline, in horror, squeezes up to Zhadov. Zhadov leans with his hand on the table and lowers his head. Yusov stands in the doorway, completely bewildered.
CURTAIN
NOTES
These notes and those for the other plays are based on those in A. N. Ostrovskij: Polnoe sobranie sochinenii, Moscow, 1973-1980.
1. From a song (Vecherkom krasna devitsa…) very popular at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Words by N. M. Ibragimov.
2. Collegiate assessor was a civil service rank bestowing the right of hereditary nobility. For contemporaries this would make comical Mme. Kukushkin’s claim in Act Four, “With us nobility is inborn.”
3. Before 1837 government officials could wear a mustache and beard. They were prohibited from doing so by the decree of Nicholas I dated April 2, 1837.
4. The decree of October 14, 1798 allowed their superiors to send office officials of nonnoble origin to the army for deviation from duty, negligence, or incompetence.
5. Po ulitse mostovoi, a very popular Russian dance tune, which had many recordings.
6. “Ne staia voronov sletalas’!” First line of Alexander Pushkin’s poem “Brat’ia razboiniki,” published in 1825.
7. At that time a suburb of Moscow featuring various cheap amusements and outdoor festivals.
8. “Luchina, luchinushka berezovaia!” An old Russian folk song.
9. “Matushka, golubushka, solnyshko moe…” A very popular romance. Words by Nirokomsky (pseudonym) and music by A. L. Gurilev.
10. This would have been the Petrovsko-Razumovsky Park, where the Moscow nobility (primarily) went riding.
11. Obviously inspired by Cervantes’ Don Quixote, which was available in an incomplete translation from French in 1769 and a translation from the original Spanish by K. P. Masalsky in 1838 and 1848-49.
12. Procurator’s song from the comedy “Slander” (labeda, 1796) by V. V. Kapnist.
13. The reference is to a cheap popular print of 1820-21 entitled “Vanity of Vanities.”