JULIE and PAULINE, her daughters.
ANTÓN (ANTÓSHA, ANTÓSHKA), a servant in Vyshnevsky’s home.
STÉSHA, a maidservant in Mme. Kukushkin’s home.
MÝKIN, a teacher. A friend of Zhadov.
DOSÚZHEV.
GRIGÓRY and VASÍLY, waiters.
FIRST and SECOND OFFICIALS.
A BOY SERVANT.
GUESTS and WAITERS in another room (in Act Three).
* Meanings which might be suggested to Ostrovsky’s contemporaries by some of the family names: Vyshnevsky—high; Zhadov—avid, eager; Yusov—legal chicaner; Belogubov—white-lipped; Kukushkin—cuckoo; Mykin—living in need; Dosuzhev—clever.
ACT ONE
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 wit
h 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 indif
ference 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…
Without a Dowry and Other Plays Page 2