Антон Чехов
Uncle Vanya: Scenes from Country Life in Four Acts
TELEGIN. My dear boy, I would with all my heart, but do listen to reason; everybody in the house is asleep.
ASTROFF. Play!
TELEGIN plays softly.
ASTROFF. I want a drink. Come, we still have some brandy left. And then, as soon as it is day, you will come home with me. [He sees SONIA, who comes in at that moment.]
ASTROFF. I beg your pardon, I have no collar on.
[He goes out quickly, followed by TELEGIN.]
SONIA. Uncle Vanya, you and the doctor have been drinking! The good fellows have been getting together! It is all very well for him, he has always done it, but why do you follow his example? It looks dreadfully at your age.
VOITSKI. Age has nothing to do with it. When real life is wanting one must create an illusion. It is better than nothing.
SONIA. Our hay is all cut and rotting in these daily rains, and here you are busy creating illusions! You have given up the farm altogether. I have done all the work alone until I am at the end of my strength – [Frightened] Uncle! Your eyes are full of tears!
VOITSKI. Tears? Nonsense, there are no tears in my eyes. You looked at me then just as your dead mother used to, my darling – [He eagerly kisses her face and hands] My sister, my dearest sister, where are you now? Ah, if you only knew, if you only knew!
SONIA. If she only knew what, Uncle?
VOITSKI. My heart is bursting. It is awful. No matter, though. I must go. [He goes out.]
SONIA. [Knocks at the door] Dr. Astroff! Are you awake? Please come here for a minute.
ASTROFF. [Behind the door] In a moment.
He appears in a few seconds. He has put on his collar and waistcoat.
ASTROFF. What do you want?
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.
