Uncle Vanya: Scenes from Country Life in Four Acts
SONIA. Drink as much as you please yourself if you don't find it
revolting, but I implore you not to let my uncle do it. It is bad for
him.
ASTROFF. Very well; we won't drink any more. I am going home at once.
That is settled. It will be dawn by the time the horses are harnessed.
SONIA. It is still raining; wait till morning.
ASTROFF. The storm is blowing over. This is only the edge of it. I must
go. And please don't ask me to come and see your father any more. I tell
him he has gout, and he says it is rheumatism. I tell him to lie down,
and he sits up. To-day he refused to see me at all.
SONIA. He has been spoilt. [She looks in the sideboard] Won't you have a
bite to eat?
ASTROFF. Yes, please. I believe I will.
SONIA. I love to eat at night. I am sure we shall find something in
here. They say that he has made a great many conquests in his life, and
that the women have spoiled him. Here is some cheese for you.
[They stand eating by the sideboard.]
ASTROFF. I haven't eaten anything to-day. Your father has a very
difficult nature. [He takes a bottle out of the sideboard] May I? [He
pours himself a glass of vodka] We are alone here, and I can speak
frankly. Do you know, I could not stand living in this house for even a
month? This atmosphere would stifle me. There is your father, entirely
absorbed in his books, and his gout; there is your Uncle Vanya with his
hypochondria, your grandmother, and finally, your step-mother--
SONIA. What about her?
ASTROFF. A human being should be entirely beautiful: the face, the
clothes, the mind, the thoughts. Your step-mother is, of course,
beautiful to look at, but don't you see? She does nothing but sleep
and eat and walk and bewitch us, and that is all. She has no
responsibilities, everything is done for her--am I not right? And an
idle life can never be a pure one. [A pause] However, I may be judging
her too severely. Like your Uncle Vanya, I am discontented, and so we
are both grumblers.
SONIA. Aren't you satisfied with life?
ASTROFF. I like life as life, but I hate and despise it in a little
Russian country village, and as far as my own personal life goes, by
heaven! there is absolutely no redeeming feature about it. Haven't you
noticed if you are riding through a dark wood at night and see a little
light shining ahead, how you forget your fatigue and the darkness and
the sharp twigs that whip your face? I work, that you know--as no one
else in the country works. Fate beats me on without rest; at times I
suffer unendurably and I see no light ahead. I have no hope; I do not
like people. It is long since I have loved any one.
SONIA. You love no one?
ASTROFF. Not a soul. I only feel a sort of tenderness for your old nurse
for old-times' sake. The peasants are all alike; they are stupid and
live in dirt, and the educated people are hard to get along with. One
gets tired of them. All our good friends are petty and shallow and see
no farther than their own noses; in one word, they are dull. Those that
have brains are hysterical, devoured with a mania for self-analysis.
They whine, they hate, they pick faults everywhere with unhealthy
sharpness. They sneak up to me sideways, look at me out of a corner of
the eye, and say: "That man is a lunatic," "That man is a wind-bag." Or,
if they don't know what else to label me with, they say I am strange. I
like the woods; that is strange. I don't eat meat; that is strange, too.
Simple, natural relations between man and man or man and nature do not
exist. [He tries to go out; SONIA prevents him.]
SONIA. I beg you, I implore you, not to drink any more!
ASTROFF. Why not?
SONIA. It is so unworthy of you. You are well-bred, your voice is sweet,
you are even--more than any one I know--handsome. Why do you want to
resemble the common people that drink and play cards? Oh, don't, I beg
you! You always say that people do not create anything, but only destroy
what heaven has given them. Why, oh, why, do you destroy yourself? Oh,
don't, I implore you not to! I entreat you!
ASTROFF. [Gives her his hand] I won't drink any more.
SONIA. Promise me.
ASTROFF. I give you my word of honour.
SONIA. [Squeezing his hand] Thank you.
ASTROFF. I have done with it. You see, I am perfectly sober again, and
so I shall stay till the end of my life. [He looks his watch] But, as
I was saying, life holds nothing for me; my race is run. I am old, I
am tired, I am trivial; my sensibilities are dead. I could never attach
myself to any one again. I love no one, and never shall! Beauty alone
has the power to touch me still. I am deeply moved by it. Helena could
turn my head in a day if she wanted to, but that is not love, that is
not affection--
[He shudders and covers his face with his hands.]
SONIA. What is it?
ASTROFF. Nothing. During Lent one of my patients died under chloroform.
SONIA. It is time to forget that. [A pause] Tell me, doctor, if I had a
friend or a younger sister, and if you knew that she, well--loved you,
what would you do?
ASTROFF. [Shrugging his shoulders] I don't know. I don't think I should
do anything. I should make her understand that I could not return her
love--however, my mind is not bothered about those things now. I must
start at once if I am ever to get off. Good-bye, my dear girl. At this
rate we shall stand here talking till morning. [He shakes hands with
her] I shall go out through the sitting-room, because I am afraid your
uncle might detain me. [He goes out.]
SONIA. [Alone] Not a word! His heart and soul are still locked from me,
and yet for some reason I am strangely happy. I wonder why? [She laughs
with pleasure] I told him that he was well-bred and handsome and that
his voice was sweet. Was that a mistake? I can still feel his voice
vibrating in the air; it caresses me. [Wringing her hands] Oh! how
terrible it is to be plain! I am plain, I know it. As I came out of
church last Sunday I overheard a woman say, "She is a dear, noble girl,
but what a pity she is so ugly!" So ugly!
HELENA comes in and throws open the window.
HELENA. The storm is over. What delicious air! [A pause] Where is the
doctor?
SONIA. He has gone. [A pause.]
HELENA. Sonia!
SONIA. Yes?
HELENA. How much longer are you going to sulk at me? We have not hurt
each other. Why not be friends? We have had enough of this.
SONIA. I myself--[She embraces HELENA] Let us make peace.
HELENA. With all my heart. [They are both moved.]
SONIA. Has papa gone to bed?
HELENA. No, he is sitting up in the drawing-room. Heaven knows what
reason you and I had for not speaking to each other for weeks. [Sees the
open sideboard] Who left the sideboard open?
SONIA. Dr. Astroff has just had supper.
HELENA. There is some wine. Let us seal our friendship.
SONIA. Yes, let us.
HELENA. Out of one glass. [She fills a wine-glass] So, we are friends,
are we?
SONIA. Yes. [They drink and kiss each other] I have long wanted to make
friends, but somehow, I was ashamed to. [She weeps.]
HELENA. Why are you crying?
SONIA. I don't know. It is nothing.
HELENA. There, there, don't cry. [She weeps] Silly! Now I am crying
too. [A pause] You are angry with me because I seem to have married your
father for his money, but don't believe the gossip you hear. I swear to
you I married him for love. I was fascinated by his fame and learning. I
know now that it was not real love, but it seemed real at the time. I
am innocent, and yet your clever, suspicious eyes have been punishing me
for an imaginary crime ever since my marriage.
SONIA. Peace, peace! Let us forget the past.
HELENA. You must not look so at people. It is not becoming to you. You
must trust people, or life becomes impossible.
SONIA. Tell me truly, as a friend, are you happy?
HELENA. Truly, no.
SONIA. I knew it. One more question: do you wish your husband were
young?
HELENA. What a child you are! Of course I do. Go on, ask something else.
SONIA. Do you like the doctor?
HELENA. Yes, very much indeed.
SONIA. [Laughing] I have a stupid face, haven't I? He has just gone out,
and his voice is still in my ears; I hear his step; I see his face in
the dark window. Let me say all I have in my heart! But no, I cannot
speak of it so loudly. I am ashamed. Come to my room and let me tell you
there. I seem foolish to you, don't I? Talk to me of him.
HELENA. What can I say?
SONIA. He is clever. He can do everything. He can cure the sick, and
plant woods.
HELENA. It is not a question of medicine and woods, my dear, he is a man
of genius. Do you know what that means? It means he is brave, profound,
and of clear insight. He plants a tree and his mind travels a thousand
years into the future, and he sees visions of the happiness of the human
race. People like him are rare and should be loved. What if he does
drink and act roughly at times? A man of genius cannot be a saint in
Russia. There he lives, cut off from the world by cold and storm and
endless roads of bottomless mud, surrounded by a rough people who are
crushed by poverty and disease, his life one continuous struggle, with
never a day's respite; how can a man live like that for forty years and
keep himself sober and unspotted? [Kissing SONIA] I wish you happiness
with all my heart; you deserve it. [She gets up] As for me, I am a
worthless, futile woman. I have always been futile; in music, in love,
in my husband's house--in a word, in everything. When you come to think
of it, Sonia, I am really very, very unhappy. [Walks excitedly up and
down] Happiness can never exist for me in this world. Never. Why do you
laugh?
SONIA. [Laughing and covering her face with her hands] I am so happy, so
happy!
HELENA. I want to hear music. I might play a little.
SONIA. Oh, do, do! [She embraces her] I could not possibly go to sleep
now. Do play!
HELENA. Yes, I will. Your father is still awake. Music irritates him
when he is ill, but if he says I may, then I shall play a little. Go,
Sonia, and ask him.
SONIA. Very well.
[She goes out. The WATCHMAN'S rattle is heard in the garden.]
HELENA. It is long since I have heard music. And now, I shall sit and
play, and weep like a fool. [Speaking out of the window] Is that you
rattling out there, Ephim?
VOICE OF THE WATCHMAN. It is I.
HELENA. Don't make such a noise. Your master is ill.
VOICE OF THE WATCHMAN. I am going away this minute. [Whistles a tune.]
SONIA. [Comes back] He says, no.
The curtain falls.
ACT III
The drawing-room of SEREBRAKOFF'S house. There are three doors: one to
the right, one to the left, and one in the centre of the room. VOITSKI
and SONIA are sitting down. HELENA is walking up and down, absorbed in
thought.
VOITSKI. We were asked by the professor to be here at one o'clock.
[Looks at his watch] It is now a quarter to one. It seems he has some
communication to make to the world.
HELENA. Probably a matter of business.
VOITSKI. He never had any business. He writes twaddle, grumbles, and
eats his heart out with jealousy; that's all he does.
SONIA. [Reproachfully] Uncle!
VOITSKI. All right. I beg your pardon. [He points to HELENA] Look at
her. Wandering up and down from sheer idleness. A sweet picture, really.
HELENA. I wonder you are not bored, droning on in the same key from
morning till night. [Despairingly] I am dying of this tedium. What shall
I do?
SONIA. [Shrugging her shoulders] There is plenty to do if you would.
HELENA. For instance?
SONIA. You could help run this place, teach the children, care for the
sick--isn't that enough? Before you and papa came, Uncle Vanya and I
used to go to market ourselves to deal in flour.
HELENA. I don't know anything about such things, and besides, they don't
interest me. It is only in novels that women go out and teach and heal