Ivanov

by Anton Chekhov

  SashaThat’s it, that’s just what you should do – break something, smash up the place, scream your head off. You’re angry with me. It was stupid of me to come. So get angry, shout at me, stamp your feet, what are you waiting for?

  Pause.

  Well?

  IvanovYou’re very funny.

  SashaBetter! I think I saw a smile. Could you manage another. Just to please me?

  Ivanov(laughs) Whenever you start trying to save me, your eyes become wide and so deep, as though you were gazing at a comet. Don’t move, your shoulder is all dusty. There. A man with that look looks like a cretin, but women have a way of making it seem kind and warm, instead of moronic. Why do you girls always turn aside healthy, cheerful men and as soon as they start going downhill you’re all over them. Is it really better to be a sick-nurse to a bleating failure than to be married to some fit, strong fellow . . .?

  SashaYes, much better.

  IvanovWhy?

  SashaThere’s a lot that men don’t understand. Every girl is drawn to a man who needs her, because what we’re looking for is love that gives us something to do. Not passive love. Do you see? Active love. Men put their work first, love has to take second place – a chat, a walk in the garden, some pleasant times, a few tears on her grave, and that’s about it. But for us, love is the reason for living. Loving you means dreaming of curing you of your unhappiness, of following you to the ends of the earth. Where you go, there I’ll go – to the mountaintop or into the abyss. I’d love more than anything to spend all night doing your paperwork for you, or to walk by your side for miles and miles. Once, about three years ago, at harvest time, you showed up all covered in dust and sunburnt, you were exhausted, and you asked for a drink of water. I brought you a glass, but you were stretched out on the sofa, dead to the world. You slept the whole day, and I stood by the door keeping watch so that no one came in. I felt so happy. The more you do for love, the more love you feel.

  IvanovActive love . . . huh! . . . Is it a mutation? – a schoolgirl’s daydream? – or is it love as love ought to be? (Shrugs his shoulders.) Who knows? (Cheerfully.) Sasha, God’s truth, as a man I’m as decent as the next. I know I sound off on all kinds of things but never in my life have I said, ‘Our women have got something wrong with them, ‘ or, ‘That woman there is going to come to no good.’ Heavens, all I feel is gratitude for them. You’re a dear, good girl, and you cheer me up, too. (Walks quickly off to one side.) You’ve got to go, Sasha! We’re forgetting ourselves.

  SashaYes, it’s time to go. I’m afraid that honest doctor of yours might think it’s his duty to tell Anna Petrovna I’m here. Listen – go to your wife – now, this minute – and sit by her and keep sitting by her – for a year if you have to – or ten years. Be sad with her, beg her forgiveness, cry with her. Do your duty. And – most important – don’t neglect your work!

  IvanovNot for the first time, I feel I’ve eaten the wrong kind of mushroom.

  SashaWell, God bless you, Nikolay! Put me out of your head. Write me a line in a couple of weeks – I’d be grateful. I’ll write to you, too . . .

  Borkin looks in through the door.

  BorkinNikolay, may I? (Seeing Sasha.) Oh, excuse me – (Comes in.) Bon jour! (Bows.)

  Sasha(embarrassed) Hello.

  BorkinYou’ve put on weight, pretty one, it suits you.

  Sasha(to Ivanov) Well, I’ll be going now, Nikolay Alekseevich . . . I’m off.

  Sasha leaves.

  BorkinShe’s a vision! I came on a prosaic matter of business and found poetry. (Sings.) ’You appeared like a bird towards the light . . .’

  Ivanov walks up and down the stage agitatedly. Borkin sits down.

  She’s got something about her the others haven’t got – don’t you think so, Nicolas? Something special, something not of this world . . . (Sighs.) As it happens, she’s the richest match in the district, but her mama is such an old bag, no one is willing to pop the question. Everything will go to Shurochka, but till then – ten thousand and a couple of ladles, and she’ll have to beg for that. (Rummages in his pocket.) Care for a cigar? De los Majores. (Holds out his cigar case.) They’re good.

  Ivanov goes up to Borkin, catching his breath with rage.

  IvanovGet out of this house, this instant!

  Borkin pulls himself up slightly and drops his cigar.

  Out! Now!

  BorkinNicolas, what does this mean? Are you angry about something?

  IvanovWhere did you get hold of those cigars? And don’t think I don’t know where you take that old man every day, and what you do there!

  Borkin(shrugs his shoulders) And what’s that got to do with you?

  IvanovYou bastard! You’ve given me a bad name all over the district with your crooked schemes. We have nothing in common and I’m asking you to leave my house right this minute.

  BorkinI’m not angry with you, because I know you don’t mean it; you’re just irritable about something. Insult me as much as you like. (Picks up the cigar.) But it’s about time you got out of your sulk – you’re not a schoolboy.

  IvanovDid you hear what I said? Do you think I’m an idiot?

  Anna enters.

  BorkinWell, your wife’s here now . . . I’ll leave you to it.

  Borkin leaves.

  Ivanov stops near the table and stands with his bead banging down.

  Anna(after a pause) What was she doing here?

  Pause.

  I said – what was she doing here?

  IvanovDon’t ask me to explain, Anyuta.

  Pause.

  She’s not to blame. You can make me pay any way you like, I won’t complain . . . but don’t ask me about her, I haven’t the strength.

  Anna(angrily) Why did she come here?

  Pause.

  So now I know. Now at last I know what kind of man you are. A man without honour. Everything you told me about truth and goodness and your high-minded plans was a lie, and I believed every word . . .

  IvanovAnyuta, I have never lied to you.

  AnnaI’ve lived with you for five years, I’ve been sick with anguish about giving up my faith, but I loved you and never stopped loving you for a single minute. I idolised you. And all for what? You were deceiving me the whole time and not caring who knew it.

  IvanovAnyuta, don’t say things which aren’t true. I made mistakes, I know, but I’ve never told a lie in my life . . . Don’t you dare accuse me of that.

  AnnaEverything’s clear now. You married me thinking my parents would forgive me and you’d get a large dowry – that’s what you thought.

  IvanovOh God, not you too!

  AnnaBe quiet! When you realised there wasn’t going to be any money . . . you had to think again . . . I can see it all now. (Weeps.) You never loved me and were never faithful to me – never! . . .

  IvanovAnna, that’s not true! Say anything you like, but don’t insult my honour with these lies.

  AnnaYou have no honour to insult, you’re a swine. You owe money to Lebedev and to get out of paying you’re trying to seduce his daughter – to deceive her just like you deceived me. That’s the truth, isn’t it?

  IvanovStop it, for God’s sake! I won’t answer you, you’re making me so angry I’ll say something I’ll wish I hadn’t.

  AnnaIt’s not just me you’ve managed to fool –

  IvanovAnna, please stop it –

  AnnaAll those shady deals you blame on Borkin –

  IvanovLeave me alone or I won’t be responsible for what I say –

  AnnaIt wasn’t Borkin –

  IvanovI mean it, I’m just about ready to –

  AnnaIt was you all the time –

  IvanovOh, shut up, you silly yid, just –

  AnnaNo, I won’t shut up! It’s too late for that –

  IvanovWon’t you? Oh – God –

  Anna– so you might as well go over to the Lebedevs and carry on making a fool of him –

  Ivanov(cries out) What do you care?! – You’re a dead woman! The docto
r says you’ll be dead before . . . before . . .

  Anna sits down. Her voice drops.

  AnnaWhen did he say that?

  Pause.

  IvanovThat’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.

  Ivanov sobs.

  End of Act Three.

  * The re-entrance of Pyotr with the onion pasties – though at a later moment in the scene – was the irresistible innovation of David Hare’s translation for Jonathan Kent’s production of Ivanov at the Almeida Theatre, London (1997).

  Act Four

  A year later.

  A reception room in the Lebedev house, decorated for a wedding party. There is an upright piano, and on it a violin and a cello by the piano. Guests can be heard and seen, coming and going in the background.

  Lvov enters, looks at his pocket watch.

  Lvov(aside) It’s gone four. It’ll be time for the blessing, then off to the altar. The triumph of virtue. Ivanov and the Lebedev girl, of course. He got nothing out of the first one, and now it’s the next one’s turn to be robbed and sent to her grave. The same old story of grab what you can. He’s beside himself with happiness. He’ll live comfortably to a ripe old age and die with a clear conscience. Well, not if I have anything to do with it. Once I’ve torn away the mask and people see what kind of jackal he is, he’ll go from seventh heaven into the pit where all the powers of hell can’t drag him out. As an honest man, it’s my duty to say ‘enough’, and open people’s eyes. So I’ll do my duty and get out of this horrible district first thing tomorrow. (Thinks for a moment.) But how? Tell the Lebedevs what I know? Pointless. Challenge him to a duel? Make a scene? God, I’m feeling as nervous as a schoolboy. I can’t think straight. So what’s it to be? A duel?

  Kosykh enters.

  Kosykh(to Lvov) Yesterday I declared a small slam in clubs and made a grand slam! Only, Barabanov made a mess of it again. We play. I bid: no trumps. He passes. Two no trumps. He passes. I go two diamonds . . .

  LvovI’m sorry, I don’t play cards so I can’t share your pleasure. Is it nearly time for the blessing?

  KosykhIt must be. They’re trying to talk sense into Zyuzyushka. She’s having a weeping fit.

  LvovLosing her daughter?

  KosykhNo, the dowry. And she’s extremely pissed off about him getting off paying what he owes her, now he’s going to be her son-in-law.

  Babakina enters, dressed up to the nines. She self-importantly passes across the stage past Lvov and Kosykh, who laughs into his fist. She looks round.

  BabakinaGrow up!

  Kosykh prods her waist with his finger and laughs out loud.

  Oaf!

  She continues out.

  Kosykh(laughs) The old girl’s never been the same since she got her sights on being a countess. She’s off her chump, you can’t go near her now. (Mimics.) ’Oaf!’

  Lvov(agitated) Tell me, what’s your opinion of Ivanov?

  KosykhUseless. Plays like a blacksmith. Take what happened last year – me, the Count, Borkin and him. I’m dealing –

  Lvov(interrupting) Is he a good person?

  KosykhIvanov? The morals of a magpie. He and the Count are birds of a feather. They’ll take anything there for the taking. With the Jewess he got less than he bargained for, so now he’s making his move for Zina’s cash box. Sasha’ll end up begging in the street within a year, the devil take me if I’m wrong. Ivanov will stitch up Zyuzyushka, and the same thing with the Count and Babakina. They’ll take the money and live like lords. You’ve gone pale – are you all right? You look terrible.

  LvovIt’s nothing, I drank too much yesterday, that’s all.

  Lebedev enters with Sasha.

  LebedevCome in here, Sasha, where we can talk. (To Lvov and Kosykh.) Go and join the ladies, you two, we need to talk in private.

  Kosykh(going past Sasha, snaps his fingers admiringly) Pretty as a picture card – she’s the queen of trumps!

  LebedevOn your way, you Neanderthal.

  Lvov and Kosykh go out.

  Sit down, Shurochka, that’s right. . . over here. (Sits down and looks round.) Now listen to me carefully and remember I’m your father. The fact is, your mother has asked me to tell you something. This is not me speaking, I’m just doing what your mother –

  SashaOh, please get on with it, Papa.

  LebedevThere’s fifteen thousand silver roubles put aside for your dowry. So let there be no argument about that later on. No, don’t interrupt – that’s not the whole story. There’s fifteen thousand which is yours, but seeing that Nikolay owes your mother nine thousand, it’s coming off your dowry. Not only that . . .

  SashaWhy are you telling me? Lebedev Your mother said I had to.

  SashaWell, leave me alone. If you had any respect for me, or yourself, you wouldn’t do this. I don’t want your dowry. I never asked for it, and I’m not asking now.

  LebedevWhat have I done? If you think you’re so emancipated . . .

  SashaI can’t understand why you have to insult my feelings with this penny-pinching arithmetic.

  Lebedev(exploding with rage) I give up! I’ll end up sticking a knife in my guts – or someone’s. If it’s not her out there raging non-stop, nagging me about every kopek, it’s her in here, the so-called intelligent, liberated one, God help us, feeling insulted because she can’t understand her own father. Well, let me tell you. I came in here to insult your feelings because out there I was being torn limb from limb and drawn and quartered! ‘Can’t understand’! I feel dizzy, I’m losing my mind. So to hell with you.

  He goes towards the door and stops.

  But I don’t like what’s going on. I don’t like any of it.

  SashaWhat don’t you like?

  LebedevAll of it!

  SashaAll of what?

  LebedevDo you think I’m going to sit you down and spill everything? I don’t like anything that’s going on . . . I mean, this wedding.

  He goes up to Sasha and speaks gently.

  I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Shurochka. Perhaps this marriage of yours is a good idea and honest-to-God, but there’s something about it that just isn’t made in heaven. It’s not like other marriages. You’re so young – as clean as a pane of glass, and so lovely. And he’s a widower, all patched up and threadbare . . . and I can’t make him out, God help him.

  He kisses his daughter.

  Forgive me, Shurochka, but something is not quite decent about it. People are talking . . . about how his wife died, and then suddenly he sets his cap at you for who-knows-what reason . . . (Briskly.) I’m talking like an old gossip. I’m an old woman in a crinoline. Don’t listen to me. Don’t listen to anybody. Listen to your heart.

  SashaNo, I’ve had the same feeling . . . that something isn’t right. It’s true, isn’t it? If only you knew how unhappy I am. It’s horrible. I’m frightened to admit it. Dear darling Daddy, make me feel better, tell me what to do.

  LebedevWhat are you . . . What do you want me to

  say?

  SashaI’ve never been so scared. I feel I don’t know him, and never will. All the time we’ve been engaged, he’s never once smiled at me, or looked me in the face . . . complaining all the time, reproaching himself for this or that, dropping hints about some guilt he carries . . . His hands never stop shaking . . . I’m worn out with it. There are even times when I feel . . . that I don’t love him as much as I should . . . and when he comes to see us and talks to me, I find myself getting bored. What does it mean, Papa? I’m scared.

  LebedevMy little dove, my only child – listen to your father. Give him up!

  Sasha(alarmed) What are you saying?

  LebedevIt’s the right thing to do, Shurochka. There’ll be a fuss, tongues going like clappers in a church bell for miles around – but better put up with a bit of scandal than ruin your whole life.

  SashaDon’t say it – don’t say that, Papa! I don’t want to hear it. I have to fight against these gloomy thoughts. He’s a good, unhappy, misunderstood man. I’m going to love him, and put him back on
his feet. It’s my duty, I’ll do it, and that’s all there is to be said.

  LebedevThat’s not duty, that’s obsession.

  SashaI don’t want to talk about it. I told you something I didn’t even want to admit to myself. Please don’t tell anybody else, just forget about it.

  LebedevI’m lost. Either I’m getting stupid or everyone else is getting cleverer, but I’m damned if I understand anything any more.

  Shabelsky enters.

  ShabelskyTo hell with everybody, me included. It’s an absolute disgrace.

  LebedevWhat is?

  ShabelskyNo, I mean it – whatever the consequences, I’m going to have to do something so vile I hate myself for it, and so will everyone else. But on my word of honour, I’m going to go ahead with it. I’ve told Borkin he can announce my engagement. (Laughs.) I can be just as rotten as the rest of them!

  LebedevIf you go on like this they’ll lock you up with the loonies.

  ShabelskyThe loony bin can’t be any worse than this place. Take me to it, you’ll be doing me a favour. What a bunch of third-rate, small-minded dolts, and I’m as bad or worse, I’ve stopped believing a word I say . . .

  LebedevWhy don’t you just set fire to a mouthful of meths and blow it in their faces? Alternatively, get your hat and go home. There’s a wedding going on here, everybody’s enjoying themselves, and you’re going around cawing like a crow. Or –

  Shabelsky drapes himself over the piano and sobs.

  Oh, Lord . . . what’s up, Matvey? . . . Count! . . . What’s the matter? Matyushka, dear fellow, my angel – was it something I said? You mustn’t mind an old soak like me. Drink some water . . .

  ShabelskyNo.

  LebedevWhat are you crying about?

  ShabelskyIt’s really nothing . . .

  LebedevDon’t fib, Matty – tell me what it is.

  ShabelskyI looked at this cello just now and it reminded me of that little Jewess.

  LebedevHonestly, what a time to bring her up. May she rest in peace in Abraham’s bosom, but this isn’t the time or place –

  Sasha starts sobbing.

  ShabelskyWe used to play duets together. A good and lovely woman.

  Lebedev(to Sasha) Not you too! Oh, please stop crying. Oh God, now they’re both howling. What should I . . .? At least go somewhere you won’t be seen by the wedding guests.