Uncle Vanya: Scenes from Country Life in Four Acts
MARINA. It's all right, my baby. When the geese have cackled they will
be still again. First they cackle and then they stop.
SONIA. Nurse!
MARINA. You are trembling all over, as if you were freezing. There,
there, little orphan baby, God is merciful. A little linden-tea, and it
will all pass away. Don't cry, my sweetest. [Looking angrily at the door
in the centre of the room] See, the geese have all gone now. The devil
take them!
A shot is heard. HELENA screams behind the scenes. SONIA shudders.
MARINA. Bang! What's that?
SEREBRAKOFF. [Comes in reeling with terror] Hold him! hold him! He has
gone mad!
HELENA and VOITSKI are seen struggling in the doorway.
HELENA. [Trying to wrest the revolver from him] Give it to me; give it
to me, I tell you!
VOITSKI. Let me go, Helena, let me go! [He frees himself and rushes in,
looking everywhere for SEREBRAKOFF] Where is he? Ah, there he is! [He
shoots at him. A pause] I didn't get him? I missed again? [Furiously]
Damnation! Damnation! To hell with him!
He flings the revolver on the floor, and drops helpless into a chair.
SEREBRAKOFF stands as if stupefied. HELENA leans against the wall,
almost fainting.
HELENA. Take me away! Take me away! I can't stay here--I can't!
VOITSKI. [In despair] Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?
SONIA. [Softly] Oh, nurse, nurse!
The curtain falls.
ACT IV
VOITSKI'S bedroom, which is also his office. A table stands near
the window; on it are ledgers, letter scales, and papers of every
description. Near by stands a smaller table belonging to ASTROFF, with
his paints and drawing materials. On the wall hangs a cage containing a
starling. There is also a map of Africa on the wall, obviously of no use
to anybody. There is a large sofa covered with buckram. A door to the
left leads into an inner room; one to the right leads into the front
hall, and before this door lies a mat for the peasants with their muddy
boots to stand on. It is an autumn evening. The silence is profound.
TELEGIN and MARINA are sitting facing one another, winding wool.
TELEGIN. Be quick, Marina, or we shall be called away to say good-bye
before you have finished. The carriage has already been ordered.
MARINA. [Trying to wind more quickly] I am a little tired.
TELEGIN. They are going to Kharkoff to live.
MARINA. They do well to go.
TELEGIN. They have been frightened. The professor's wife won't stay here
an hour longer. "If we are going at all, let's be off," says she, "we
shall go to Kharkoff and look about us, and then we can send for our
things." They are travelling light. It seems, Marina, that fate has
decreed for them not to live here.
MARINA. And quite rightly. What a storm they have just raised! It was
shameful!
TELEGIN. It was indeed. The scene was worthy of the brush of Aibazofski.
MARINA. I wish I'd never laid eyes on them. [A pause] Now we shall have
things as they were again: tea at eight, dinner at one, and supper in
the evening; everything in order as decent folks, as Christians like to
have it. [Sighs] It is a long time since I have eaten noodles.
TELEGIN. Yes, we haven't had noodles for ages. [A pause] Not for ages.
As I was going through the village this morning, Marina, one of the
shop-keepers called after me, "Hi! you hanger-on!" I felt it bitterly.
MARINA. Don't pay the least attention to them, master; we are all
dependents on God. You and Sonia and all of us. Every one must work, no
one can sit idle. Where is Sonia?
TELEGIN. In the garden with the doctor, looking for Ivan. They fear he
may lay violent hands on himself.
MARINA. Where is his pistol?
TELEGIN. [Whispers] I hid it in the cellar.
VOITSKI and ASTROFF come in.
VOITSKI. Leave me alone! [To MARINA and TELEGIN] Go away! Go away and
leave me to myself, if but for an hour. I won't have you watching me
like this!
TELEGIN. Yes, yes, Vanya. [He goes out on tiptoe.]
MARINA. The gander cackles; ho! ho! ho!
[She gathers up her wool and goes out.]
VOITSKI. Leave me by myself!
ASTROFF. I would, with the greatest pleasure. I ought to have gone long
ago, but I shan't leave you until you have returned what you took from
me.
VOITSKI. I took nothing from you.
ASTROFF. I am not jesting, don't detain me, I really must go.
VOITSKI. I took nothing of yours.
ASTROFF. You didn't? Very well, I shall have to wait a little longer,
and then you will have to forgive me if I resort to force. We shall have
to bind you and search you. I mean what I say.
VOITSKI. Do as you please. [A pause] Oh, to make such a fool of myself!
To shoot twice and miss him both times! I shall never forgive myself.
ASTROFF. When the impulse came to shoot, it would have been as well had
you put a bullet through your own head.
VOITSKI. [Shrugging his shoulders] Strange! I attempted murder, and am
not going to be arrested or brought to trial. That means they think
me mad. [With a bitter laugh] Me! I am mad, and those who hide their
worthlessness, their dullness, their crying heartlessness behind a
professor's mask, are sane! Those who marry old men and then deceive
them under the noses of all, are sane! I saw you kiss her; I saw you in
each other's arms!
ASTROFF. Yes, sir, I did kiss her; so there. [He puts his thumb to his
nose.]
VOITSKI. [His eyes on the door] No, it is the earth that is mad, because
she still bears us on her breast.
ASTROFF. That is nonsense.
VOITSKI. Well? Am I not a madman, and therefore irresponsible? Haven't I
the right to talk nonsense?
ASTROFF. This is a farce! You are not mad; you are simply a ridiculous
fool. I used to think every fool was out of his senses, but now I
see that lack of sense is a man's normal state, and you are perfectly
normal.
VOITSKI. [Covers his face with his hands] Oh! If you knew how ashamed
I am! These piercing pangs of shame are like nothing on earth. [In an
agonised voice] I can't endure them! [He leans against the table] What
can I do? What can I do?
ASTROFF. Nothing.
VOITSKI. You must tell me something! Oh, my God! I am forty-seven years
old. I may live to sixty; I still have thirteen years before me; an
eternity! How shall I be able to endure life for thirteen years?
What shall I do? How can I fill them? Oh, don't you see? [He presses
ASTROFF'S hand convulsively] Don't you see, if only I could live the
rest of my life in some new way! If I could only wake some still, bright
morning and feel that life had begun again; that the past was forgotten
and had vanished like smoke. [He weeps] Oh, to begin life anew! Tell me,
tell me how to begin.
ASTROFF. [Crossly] What nonsense! What sort of a new life can you and I
look forward to? We can have no hope.
VOITSKI. None?
ASTROFF. None. Of that I am convinced.
VOITSKI. Tell me what to do. [He puts his hand to his heart] I feel such
a burning pain here.
ASTROFF. [Shouts angrily] Stop! [Then, more gently] It may be that
posterity, which will despise us for our blind and stupid lives, will
find some road to happiness; but we--you and I--have but one hope, the
hope that we may be visited by visions, perhaps by pleasant ones, as we
lie resting in our graves. [Sighing] Yes, brother, there were only two
respectable, intelligent men in this county, you and I. Ten years or so
of this life of ours, this miserable life, have sucked us under, and we
have become as contemptible and petty as the rest. But don't try to talk
me out of my purpose! Give me what you took from me, will you?
VOITSKI. I took nothing from you.
ASTROFF. You took a little bottle of morphine out of my medicine-case.
[A pause] Listen! If you are positively determined to make an end
to yourself, go into the woods and shoot yourself there. Give up the
morphine, or there will be a lot of talk and guesswork; people will
think I gave it to you. I don't fancy having to perform a post-mortem on
you. Do you think I should find it interesting?
SONIA comes in.
VOITSKI. Leave me alone.
ASTROFF. [To SONIA] Sonia, your uncle has stolen a bottle of morphine
out of my medicine-case and won't give it up. Tell him that his
behaviour is--well, unwise. I haven't time, I must be going.
SONIA. Uncle Vanya, did you take the morphine?
ASTROFF. Yes, he took it. [A pause] I am absolutely sure.
SONIA. Give it up! Why do you want to frighten us? [Tenderly] Give it
up, Uncle Vanya! My misfortune is perhaps even greater than yours, but I
am not plunged in despair. I endure my sorrow, and shall endure it until
my life comes to a natural end. You must endure yours, too. [A pause]
Give it up! Dear, darling Uncle Vanya. Give it up! [She weeps] You are
so good, I am sure you will have pity on us and give it up. You must
endure your sorrow, Uncle Vanya; you must endure it.
VOITSKI takes a bottle from the drawer of the table and hands it to
ASTROFF.
VOITSKI. There it is! [To SONIA] And now, we must get to work at once;
we must do something, or else I shall not be able to endure it.
SONIA. Yes, yes, to work! As soon as we have seen them off we shall
go to work. [She nervously straightens out the papers on the table]
Everything is in a muddle!
ASTROFF. [Putting the bottle in his case, which he straps together] Now
I can be off.
HELENA comes in.
HELENA. Are you here, Ivan? We are starting in a moment. Go to
Alexander, he wants to speak to you.
SONIA. Go, Uncle Vanya. [She takes VOITSKI 'S arm] Come, you and papa
must make peace; that is absolutely necessary.
SONIA and VOITSKI go out.
HELENA. I am going away. [She gives ASTROFF her hand] Good-bye.
ASTROFF. So soon?
HELENA. The carriage is waiting.
ASTROFF. Good-bye.
HELENA. You promised me you would go away yourself to-day.
ASTROFF. I have not forgotten. I am going at once. [A pause] Were you
frightened? Was it so terrible?
HELENA. Yes.
ASTROFF. Couldn't you stay? Couldn't you? To-morrow--in the forest--
HELENA. No. It is all settled, and that is why I can look you so bravely
in the face. Our departure is fixed. One thing I must ask of you: don't
think too badly of me; I should like you to respect me.
ASTROFF. Ah! [With an impatient gesture] Stay, I implore you! Confess
that there is nothing for you to do in this world. You have no object
in life; there is nothing to occupy your attention, and sooner or later
your feelings must master you. It is inevitable. It would be better if
it happened not in Kharkoff or in Kursk, but here, in nature's lap.
It would then at least be poetical, even beautiful. Here you have the
forests, the houses half in ruins that Turgenieff writes of.
HELENA. How comical you are! I am angry with you and yet I shall always
remember you with pleasure. You are interesting and original. You and
I will never meet again, and so I shall tell you--why should I conceal
it?--that I am just a little in love with you. Come, one more last
pressure of our hands, and then let us part good friends. Let us not
bear each other any ill will.
ASTROFF. [Pressing her hand] Yes, go. [Thoughtfully] You seem to be
sincere and good, and yet there is something strangely disquieting about
all your personality. No sooner did you arrive here with your husband
than every one whom you found busy and actively creating something was
forced to drop his work and give himself up for the whole summer to
your husband's gout and yourself. You and he have infected us with your
idleness. I have been swept off my feet; I have not put my hand to
a thing for weeks, during which sickness has been running its course
unchecked among the people, and the peasants have been pasturing their
cattle in my woods and young plantations. Go where you will, you and
your husband will always carry destruction in your train. I am joking of
course, and yet I am strangely sure that had you stayed here we should