Delphi Complete Works of Anton Chekhov (Illustrated) (387 page)

BOOK: Delphi Complete Works of Anton Chekhov (Illustrated)
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IVANITCH. “O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.”

 

SVIETLOVIDOFF. “I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe?”

 

IVANITCH. “My lord, I cannot.”

 

SVIETLOVIDOFF. “I pray you.”

 

IVANITCH. “Believe me, I cannot.”

 

SVIETLOVIDOFF. “I do beseech you.”

 

IVANITCH. “I know no touch of it, my lord.”

 

SVIETLOVIDOFF. “‘Tis as easy as lying: govern these vantages with your finger and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops.”

 

IVANITCH. “But these I cannot command to any utterance of harmony: I have not the skill.”

 

SVIETLOVIDOFF. “Why, look you, how unworthy a thing you make of me. You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. S’blood! Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me!”
[laughs and clasps]
Bravo! Encore! Bravo! Where the devil is there any old age in that? I’m not old, that is all nonsense, a torrent of strength rushes over me; this is life, freshness, youth! Old age and genius can’t exist together. You seem to be struck dumb, Nikitushka. Wait a second, let me come to my senses again. Oh! Good Lord! Now then, listen! Did you ever hear such tenderness, such music? Sh! Softly;

 
“The moon had set. There was not any light,
 
Save of the lonely legion’d watch-stars pale
 
In outer air, and what by fits made bright
 
Hot oleanders in a rosy vale
 
Searched by the lamping fly, whose little spark
 
Went in and out, like passion’s bashful hope.”
 

[The noise of opening doors is heard] What’s that?

 

IVANITCH. There are Petrushka and Yegorka coming back. Yes, you have genius, genius, my master.

 

SVIETLOVIDOFF. [Calls, turning toward the noise] Come here to me, boys!
[To IVANITCH]
Let us go and get dressed. I’m not old! All that is foolishness, nonsense!
[laughs gaily]
What are you crying for? You poor old granny, you, what’s the matter now? This won’t do! There, there, this won’t do at all! Come, come, old man, don’t stare so! What makes you stare like that? There, there!
[Embraces him in tears]
Don’t cry! Where there is art and genius there can never be such things as old age or loneliness or sickness . . . and death itself is half . . .
[Weeps]
No, no, Nikitushka! It is all over for us now! What sort of a genius am I? I’m like a squeezed lemon, a cracked bottle, and you — you are the old rat of the theatre . . . a prompter! Come on!
[They go]
I’m no genius, I’m only fit to be in the suite of Fortinbras, and even for that I am too old.... Yes.... Do you remember those lines from Othello, Nikitushka?

 
“Farewell the tranquil mind! Farewell content!
 
Farewell the plumed troops and the big wars
 
That make ambition virtue! O farewell!
 
Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,
 
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
 
The royal banner, and all quality,
 
Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!”
 

IVANITCH. Oh! You’re a genius, a genius!

 

SVIETLOVIDOFF. And again this:

 
“Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon,
 
Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even:
 
Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon,
 
And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.”
 

They go out together, the curtain falls slowly.

 
IVANOFF

 

 

This four-act drama was first performed in 1887, when Fiodor Korsh, owner of the Korsh Theatre in Moscow, commissioned Chekhov to write a comedy.
 
However, the young playwright responded with a four-act drama, which he wrote in ten days. Despite the success of its first performance, the production disgusted Chekhov himself. In a letter to his brother, he wrote that he “did not recognise his first remarks as my own” and that the actors “do not know their parts and talk nonsense”. Irritated by this failure, Chekhov made alterations to the play. Consequently the final version is different from that first showing. After this re-write, it was accepted to be performed in St. Petersburg in 1889. Chekhov’s re-write was a success and offered a foretaste for the style and themes of his subsequent masterpieces.

 

A young Chekhov (left) with brother Nikolai, 1882

 

CHARACTERS

 

NICHOLAS IVANOFF, perpetual member of the Council of Peasant Affairs

 

ANNA, his wife. Nee Sarah Abramson

 

MATTHEW SHABELSKI, a count, uncle of Ivanoff

 

PAUL LEBEDIEFF, President of the Board of the Zemstvo

 

ZINAIDA, his wife

 

SASHA, their daughter, twenty years old

 

LVOFF, a young government doctor

 

MARTHA BABAKINA, a young widow, owner of an estate and daughter of a rich merchant

 

KOSICH, an exciseman

 

MICHAEL BORKIN, a distant relative of Ivanoff, and manager of his estate

 

AVDOTIA NAZAROVNA, an old woman

 

GEORGE, lives with the Lebedieffs

 

FIRST GUEST

 

SECOND GUEST

 

THIRD GUEST

 

FOURTH GUEST

 

PETER, a servant of Ivanoff

 

GABRIEL, a servant of Lebedieff

 

GUESTS OF BOTH SEXES

 

The play takes place in one of the provinces of central Russia

 

IVANOFF

 

ACT I

 

The garden of IVANOFF’S country place. On the left is a terrace and the facade of the house. One window is open. Below the terrace is a broad semicircular lawn, from which paths lead to right and left into a garden. On the right are several garden benches and tables. A lamp is burning on one of the tables. It is evening. As the curtain rises sounds of the piano and violoncello are heard.

 

IVANOFF is sitting at a table reading.

 

BORKIN, in top-boots and carrying a gun, comes in from the rear of the garden. He is a little tipsy. As he sees IVANOFF he comes toward him on tiptoe, and when he comes opposite him he stops and points the gun at his face.

 

IVANOFF. [Catches sight of BORKIN. Shudders and jumps to his feet] Misha! What are you doing? You frightened me! I can’t stand your stupid jokes when I am so nervous as this. And having frightened me, you laugh!
[He sits down.]

 

BORKIN.
[Laughing loudly]
There, I am sorry, really. I won’t do it again. Indeed I won’t.
[Take off his cap]
How hot it is! Just think, my dear boy, I have covered twelve miles in the last three hours. I am worn out. Just feel how my heart is beating.

 

IVANOFF.
[Goes on reading]
Oh, very well. I shall feel it later!

 

BORKIN. No, feel it now. [He takes IVANOFF’S hand and presses it against his breast] Can you feel it thumping? That means that it is weak and that I may die suddenly at any moment. Would you be sorry if I died?

 

IVANOFF. I am reading now. I shall attend to you later.

 

BORKIN. No, seriously, would you be sorry if I died? Nicholas, would you be sorry if I died?

 

IVANOFF. Leave me alone!

 

BORKIN. Come, tell me if you would be sorry or not.

 

IVANOFF. I am sorry that you smell so of vodka, Misha, it is disgusting.

 

BORKIN. Do I smell of vodka? How strange! And yet, it is not so strange after all. I met the magistrate on the road, and I must admit that we did drink about eight glasses together. Strictly speaking, of course, drinking is very harmful. Listen, it is harmful, isn’t it? Is it? Is it?

 

IVANOFF. This is unendurable! Let me warn you, Misha, that you are going too far.

 

BORKIN. Well, well, excuse me. Sit here by yourself then, for heaven’s sake, if it amuses you.
[Gets up and goes away]
What extraordinary people one meets in the world. They won’t even allow themselves to be spoken to.
[He comes back]
Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. Please let me have eighty-two roubles.

 

IVANOFF. Why do you want eighty-two roubles?

 

BORKIN. To pay the workmen to-morrow.

 

IVANOFF. I haven’t the money.

 

BORKIN. Many thanks.
[Angrily]
So you haven’t the money! And yet the workmen must be paid, mustn’t they?

 

IVANOFF. I don’t know. Wait till my salary comes in on the first of the month.

 

BORKIN. How is it possible to discuss anything with a man like you? Can’t you understand that the workmen are coming to-morrow morning and not on the first of the month?

 

IVANOFF. How can I help it? I’ll be hanged if I can do anything about it now. And what do you mean by this irritating way you have of pestering me whenever I am trying to read or write or —
 

 

BORKIN. Must the workmen be paid or not, I ask you? But, good gracious! What is the use of talking to you!
[Waves his hand]
Do you think because you own an estate you can command the whole world? With your two thousand acres and your empty pockets you are like a man who has a cellar full of wine and no corkscrew. I have sold the oats as they stand in the field. Yes, sir! And to-morrow I shall sell the rye and the carriage horses.
[He stamps up and down]
Do you think I am going to stand upon ceremony with you? Certainly not! I am not that kind of a man!

 

ANNA appears at the open window.

 

ANNA. Whose voice did I hear just now? Was it yours, Misha? Why are you stamping up and down?

 

BORKIN. Anybody who had anything to do with your Nicholas would stamp up and down.

 

ANNA. Listen, Misha! Please have some hay carried onto the croquet lawn.

 

BORKIN.
[Waves his hand]
Leave me alone, please!

 

ANNA. Oh, what manners! They are not becoming to you at all. If you want to be liked by women you must never let them see you when you are angry or obstinate.
[To her husband]
Nicholas, let us go and play on the lawn in the hay!

 

IVANOFF. Don’t you know it is bad for you to stand at the open window, Annie?
[Calls]
Shut the window, Uncle!

 

[The window is shut from the inside.]

 

BORKIN. Don’t forget that the interest on the money you owe Lebedieff must be paid in two days.

 

IVANOFF. I haven’t forgotten it. I am going over to see Lebedieff today and shall ask him to wait.

 

[He looks at his watch.]

 

BORKIN. When are you going?

 

IVANOFF. At once.

 

BORKIN. Wait! Wait! Isn’t this Sasha’s birthday? So it is! The idea of my forgetting it. What a memory I have.
[Jumps about]
I shall go with you!
[Sings]
I shall go, I shall go! Nicholas, old man, you are the joy of my life. If you were not always so nervous and cross and gloomy, you and I could do great things together. I would do anything for you. Shall I marry Martha Babakina and give you half her fortune? That is, not half, either, but all — take it all!

 

IVANOFF. Enough of this nonsense!

 

BORKIN. No, seriously, shan’t I marry Martha and halve the money with you? But no, why should I propose it? How can you understand?
[Angrily]
You say to me: “Stop talking nonsense!” You are a good man and a clever one, but you haven’t any red blood in your veins or any — well, enthusiasm. Why, if you wanted to, you and I could cut a dash together that would shame the devil himself. If you were a normal man instead of a morbid hypochondriac we would have a million in a year. For instance, if I had twenty-three hundred roubles now I could make twenty thousand in two weeks. You don’t believe me? You think it is all nonsense? No, it isn’t nonsense. Give me twenty-three hundred roubles and let me try. Ofsianoff is selling a strip of land across the river for that price. If we buy this, both banks will be ours, and we shall have the right to build a dam across the river. Isn’t that so? We can say that we intend to build a mill, and when the people on the river below us hear that we mean to dam the river they will, of course, object violently and we shall say: If you don’t want a dam here you will have to pay to get us away. Do you see the result? The factory would give us five thousand roubles, Korolkoff three thousand, the monastery five thousand more —

 

IVANOFF. All that is simply idiotic, Misha. If you don’t want me to lose my temper you must keep your schemes to yourself.

 

BORKIN.
[Sits down at the table]
Of course! I knew how it would be! You never will act for yourself, and you tie my hands so that I am helpless.

 

Enter SHABELSKI and LVOFF.

 

SHABELSKI. The only difference between lawyers and doctors is that lawyers simply rob you, whereas doctors both rob you and kill you. I am not referring to any one present.
[Sits down on the bench]
They are all frauds and swindlers. Perhaps in Arcadia you might find an exception to the general rule and yet — I have treated thousands of sick people myself in my life, and I have never met a doctor who did not seem to me to be an unmistakable scoundrel.

 

BORKIN.
[To IVANOFF]
Yes, you tie my hands and never do anything for yourself, and that is why you have no money.

 

SHABELSKI. As I said before, I am not referring to any one here at present; there may be exceptions though, after all —
[He yawns.]

 

IVANOFF.
[Shuts his book]
What have you to tell me, doctor?

 

LVOFF.
[Looks toward the window]
Exactly what I said this morning: she must go to the Crimea at once.
[Walks up and down.]

 

SHABELSKI.
[Bursts out laughing]
To the Crimea! Why don’t you and I set up as doctors, Misha? Then, if some Madame Angot or Ophelia finds the world tiresome and begins to cough and be consumptive, all we shall have to do will be to write out a prescription according to the laws of medicine: that is, first, we shall order her a young doctor, and then a journey to the Crimea. There some fascinating young Tartar —
 

 

IVANOFF.
[Interrupting]
Oh, don’t be coarse!
[To LVOFF]
It takes money to go to the Crimea, and even if I could afford it, you know she has refused to go.

 

LVOFF. Yes, she has.
[A pause.]

 

BORKIN. Look here, doctor, is Anna really so ill that she absolutely must go to the Crimea?

 

LVOFF.
[Looking toward the window]
Yes, she has consumption.

 

BORKIN. Whew! How sad! I have seen in her face for some time that she could not last much longer.

 

LVOFF. Can’t you speak quietly? She can hear everything you say.
[A pause.]

 

BORKIN.
[Sighing]
The life of man is like a flower, blooming so gaily in a field. Then, along comes a goat, he eats it, and the flower is gone!

 

SHABELSKI. Oh, nonsense, nonsense.
[Yawning]
Everything is a fraud and a swindle.
[A pause.]

 

BORKIN. Gentlemen, I have been trying to tell Nicholas how he can make some money, and have submitted a brilliant plan to him, but my seed, as usual, has fallen on barren soil. Look what a sight he is now: dull, cross, bored, peevish —
 

 

SHABELSKI.
[Gets up and stretches himself]
You are always inventing schemes for everybody, you clever fellow, and telling them how to live; can’t you tell me something? Give me some good advice, you ingenious young man. Show me a good move to make.

 

BORKIN.
[Getting up]
I am going to have a swim. Goodbye, gentlemen.
[To Shabelski]
There are at least twenty good moves you could make. If I were you I should have twenty thousand roubles in a week.

 

[He goes out; SHABELSKI follows him.]

 

SHABELSKI. How would you do it? Come, explain.

 

BORKIN. There is nothing to explain, it is so simple.
[Coming back]
Nicholas, give me a rouble.

 

IVANOFF silently hands him the money

 

BORKIN. Thanks. Shabelski, you still hold some trump cards.

 

SHABELSKI follows him out.

 

SHABELSKI. Well, what are they?

BOOK: Delphi Complete Works of Anton Chekhov (Illustrated)
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