Uncle Vanya: Scenes from Country Life in Four Acts. Anton Pavlovich Chekhov

in town. He is everlastingly whining about his hard lot, though, as a matter of fact, he is extraordinarily lucky. He is the son of a common deacon and has attained the professor's chair, become the son-in-law of a senator, is called "your Excellency," and so on. But I'll tell you something; the man has been writing on art for twenty-five years, and he doesn't know the very first thing about it. For twenty-five years he has been chewing on other men's thoughts about realism, naturalism, and all such foolishness; for twenty-five years he has been reading and writing things that clever men have long known and stupid ones are not interested in; for twenty-five years he has been making his imaginary mountains out of molehills. And just think of the man's self-conceit and presumption all this time! For twenty-five years he has been masquerading in false clothes and has now retired absolutely unknown to any living soul; and yet see him! stalking across the earth like a demi-god!

      ASTROFF. I believe you envy him.

      VOITSKI. Yes, I do. Look at the success he has had with women! Don Juan himself was not more favoured. His first wife, who was my sister, was a beautiful, gentle being, as pure as the blue heaven there above us, noble, great-hearted, with more admirers than he has pupils, and she loved him as only beings of angelic purity can love those who are as pure and beautiful as themselves. His mother-in-law, my mother, adores him to this day, and he still inspires a sort of worshipful awe in her. His second wife is, as you see, a brilliant beauty; she married him in his old age and has surrendered all the glory of her beauty and freedom to him. Why? What for?

      ASTROFF. Is she faithful to him?

      VOITSKI. Yes, unfortunately she is.

      ASTROFF. Why unfortunately?

      VOITSKI. Because such fidelity is false and unnatural, root and branch. It sounds well, but there is no logic in it. It is thought immoral for a woman to deceive an old husband whom she hates, but quite moral for her to strangle her poor youth in her breast and banish every vital desire from her heart.

      TELEGIN. [In a tearful voice] Vanya, I don't like to hear you talk so. Listen, Vanya; every one who betrays husband or wife is faithless, and could also betray his country.

      VOITSKI. [Crossly] Turn off the tap, Waffles.

      TELEGIN. No, allow me, Vanya. My wife ran away with a lover on the day after our wedding, because my exterior was unprepossessing. I have never failed in my duty since then. I love her and am true to her to this day. I help her all I can and have given my fortune to educate the daughter of herself and her lover. I have forfeited my happiness, but I have kept my pride. And she? Her youth has fled, her beauty has faded according to the laws of nature, and her lover is dead. What has she kept?

      HELENA and SONIA come in; after them comes MME. VOITSKAYA carrying a book. She sits down and begins to read. Some one hands her a glass of tea which she drinks without looking up.

      SONIA. [Hurriedly, to the nurse] There are some peasants waiting out there. Go and see what they want. I shall pour the tea. [Pours out some glasses of tea.]

      MARINA goes out. HELENA takes a glass and sits drinking in the hammock.

      ASTROFF. I have come to see your husband. You wrote me that he had rheumatism and I know not what else, and that he was very ill, but he appears to be as lively as a cricket.

      HELENA. He had a fit of the blues yesterday evening and complained of pains in his legs, but he seems all right again to-day.

      ASTROFF. And I galloped over here twenty miles at break-neck speed! No matter, though, it is not the first time. Once here, however, I am going to stay until to-morrow, and at any rate sleep quantum satis.

      SONIA. Oh, splendid! You so seldom spend the night with us. Have you had dinner yet?

      ASTROFF. No.

      SONIA. Good. So you will have it with us. We dine at seven now. [Drinks her tea] This tea is cold!

      TELEGIN. Yes, the samovar has grown cold.

      HELENA. Don't mind, Monsieur Ivan, we will drink cold tea, then.

      TELEGIN. I beg your pardon, my name is not Ivan, but Ilia, ma'am – Ilia Telegin, or Waffles, as I am sometimes called on account of my pock-marked face. I am Sonia's godfather, and his Excellency, your husband, knows me very well. I now live with you, ma'am, on this estate, and perhaps you will be so good as to notice that I dine with you every day.

      SONIA. He is our great help, our right-hand man. [Tenderly] Dear godfather, let me pour you some tea.

      MME. VOITSKAYA. Oh! Oh!

      SONIA. What is it, grandmother?

      MME. VOITSKAYA. I forgot to tell Alexander – I have lost my memory – I received a letter to-day from Paul Alexevitch in Kharkoff. He has sent me a new pamphlet.

      ASTROFF. Is it interesting?

      MME. VOITSKAYA. Yes, but strange. He refutes the very theories which he defended seven years ago. It is appalling!

      VOITSKI. There is nothing appalling about it. Drink your tea, mamma.

      MME. VOITSKAYA. It seems you never want to listen to what I have to say. Pardon me, Jean, but you have changed so in the last year that I hardly know you. You used to be a man of settled convictions and had an illuminating personality —

      VOITSKI. Oh, yes. I had an illuminating personality, which illuminated no one. [A pause] I had an illuminating personality! You couldn't say anything more biting. I am forty-seven years old. Until last year I endeavoured, as you do now, to blind my eyes by your pedantry to the truths of life. But now – Oh, if you only knew! If you knew how I lie awake at night, heartsick and angry, to think how stupidly I have wasted my time when I might have been winning from life everything which my old age now forbids.

      SONIA. Uncle Vanya, how dreary!

      MME. VOITSKAYA. [To her son] You speak as if your former convictions were somehow to blame, but you yourself, not they, were at fault. You have forgotten that a conviction, in itself, is nothing but a dead letter. You should have done something.

      VOITSKI. Done something! Not every man is capable of being a writer perpetuum mobile like your Herr Professor.

      MME. VOITSKAYA. What do you mean by that?

      SONIA. [Imploringly] Mother! Uncle Vanya! I entreat you!

      VOITSKI. I am silent. I apologise and am silent. [A pause.]

      HELENA. What a fine day! Not too hot. [A pause.]

      VOITSKI. A fine day to hang oneself.

      TELEGIN tunes the guitar. MARINA appears near the house, calling the chickens.

      MARINA. Chick, chick, chick!

      SONIA. What did the peasants want, nurse?

      MARINA. The same old thing, the same old nonsense. Chick, chick, chick!

      SONIA. Why are you calling the chickens?

      MARINA. The speckled hen has disappeared with her chicks. I am afraid the crows have got her.

      TELEGIN plays a polka. All listen in silence. Enter WORKMAN.

      WORKMAN. Is the doctor here? [To ASTROFF] Excuse me, sir, but I have been sent to fetch you.

      ASTROFF. Where are you from?

      WORKMAN. The factory.

      ASTROFF. [Annoyed] Thank you. There is nothing for it, then, but to go. [Looking around him for his cap] Damn it, this is annoying!

      SONIA. Yes, it is too bad, really. You must come back to dinner from the factory.

      ASTROFF. No, I won't be able to do that. It will be too late. Now where, where – [To the WORKMAN] Look here, my man, get me a glass of vodka, will you? [The WORKMAN goes out] Where – where – [Finds his cap] One of the characters in Ostroff's plays is a man with a long moustache and short wits, like me. However, let me bid you good-bye, ladies and gentlemen. [To HELENA] I should be really delighted if you would come to see me some day with Miss Sonia. My estate is small, but if you are interested in such things I should like to show you a nursery and seed-bed whose like you will not find within a thousand miles of here. My place is surrounded by government forests. The forester is old and always