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FIVE RUSSIAN PLAYS
WITH ONE FROM THE UKRAINIAN
^ ■ ^J^^"^.
Nicholas Eyreinov.
From a Portrait by N. Kulbin.
FIVE RUSSIAN PLAYS
WITH ONE FROM THE
UKRAINIAN
TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINALS
WITH AN INTRODUCTION
C. E. BECHHOFER /f^ierf^-
LONDON
KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER & CO., LTD.
BROADWAY HOUSE, 68-74 CARTER LANE
1916
3^>1M
KM3
i.Z
CONTENTS
PAGE
Translator's Introduction . . . ix
I. A Merry Death, a Harlequinade, by
Nicholas Evreinov . . . . i
II. The Beautiful Despot, the Last Act of
a Drama, by Nicholas Evreinov . . 35
III. The Choice of a Tutor, by Denis von
ViziN 79
IV. The Wedding, by Anton Chehov . .101
V. The Jubilee, by Anton Chehov . .127
VI. The Babylonian Captivity, by Lesya
Ukrainka 153
34-^^^^'^
INTRODUCTION
THE plays selected for translation in this
volume are, for the most part, modern.
Von Vizin alone belongs to an earlier date, that of
the late eighteenth century. Nevertheless it will
be found that they have this in common : they are,
while still Russian, at the same time European.
This separation of artists into two categories, the
national and the European, is quite simple of com-
prehension. The national author, often the favourite
in his own country and one who has strengthened
and enriched its language to a great degree, is
nevertheless hardly to be appreciated in translation
by readers of other European countries. Lomonosov,
the '' father of the Russian language,'' poet, pane-
gyrist and critic, is an example ; so is Dr. Johnson.
But a European artist can be appreciated by any
foreign reader in an adequate translation, that is, a
translation approximating to what the author
would have written in that language.
INTRODUCTION
von Vizin, the first real Russian dramatist, comes
in the rank of European artists. He is in everything
Russian ; his subject, characters and treatment are
all Russian, but his plays are written with that
" brilliant common-sense '' which may be regarded
as the characteristic of the European artist. It is
well worth pointing out how his work, coming to an
end during the first period of the French Revolution,
approaches in spirit the work of the other authors
in this book, who wrote a round century after him.
This phenomenon is similar to much that can be
observed not only in Russian art, but in Russian
politics and society.
Denis Ivanovich Von Vizin (the name at Pushkin's
suggestion was Russianised into *' Von vizin '' during
the nineteenth century) was descended from a
German prisoner of war. He was born in 1745 and
educated at first by his father, his gratitude to
whom he showed in the characters of Oldthought, in
The Minor, and Flatternot, in The Choice of a Tutor.
In 1760, after five years in a preparatory school he
became a student at the Moscow University. In
the next year he published a book of translations of
INTRODUCTION xi
Holberg's fables. In 1762 he joined the Imperial
Guard, but this life did not please him and he became
a translator in the Foreign Office. In 1766 he
finished his comedy The Brigadier y which was at
once greeted as *' our first comedy of manners."
The Minor, written in a similar style round a
character resembling Goldsmith's Tony Lumpkin,
was produced in 1782. Most of the characteristics
of these five-act comedies are to be found in the
little farce in this book. The Choice of a Tutor, writ-
ten probably in 1792, the year of Von Vizin's death.
A significant event in his life is that in 1774 he drew
up a plan of a constitution for Panin, the minister,
whose secretary he had become five years before, to
present to the Emperor. A
This constitution, with a hundred others, had to
lie aside for the whole of the nineteenth century,
while the poHtical progress of Russia was at a
standstill. It is usual to consider this the fault of
autocratic emperors, but perhaps it was due to
the horror of the nation at the apparition of Napoleon
as the result of the French Revolution. It is at
least the characteristic of Russian literature after
xii iNtRODuCTtON
the first quarter of the nineteenth century that it
attempted to withdraw from the course of European
progress, and to find a national path instead. The
marvellous Dostoievsky is always exotic to us, so
(in a less degree, as his genius was less) is Turgeniev,
so is Ostrovsky the dramatist, so are all the Russian
authors of the middle and later nineteenth century,
until Saltikov, the satirist, and Chehov. Griboye-
dov's comedy Woe from Wit (1824), recently trans-
lated into English under the title " The Misfortune
of Being Clever," was the last of the early Russo-
European masterpieces. The reader feels it might
have been written less than twenty years ago ; in
the strict sense of literary chronology, it actually
was written twenty years ago.
The function of Anton Pavlovich Chehov — this
transliteration has been preferred to the less correct
forms, " Tschekhoff," " Tchekhof,'' " Chekhof," etc.
— has been to pioneer the return of Russian litera-
ture into the normal path of European civilization.
He was born in i860, at Taganrog, on the Sea of
Azov, the grandson of a serf and the son of a grocer.
He was taught Greek at a church school and then
INTRODUCTION xiii
went to the local classical school. His father's little
shop came to grief and the whole family moved to
Moscow, where he studied medicine at the University.
He started writing, often forced to work in one room
with his parents and brothers and their friends. In
1884 he qualified as a doctor, and in 1886 pubhshed
a first book of stories that had already appeared in
a score of newspapers and reviews. He practised as
a doctor merely on occasion, but was a most prolific
writer of stories and plays, in which the influence of
French literature, especially de Maupassant, con-
flicted with the current ultra-nationalism. Some,
in fact most, of his work is simply Russian, for ex-
ample. The Three Sisters, of his plays, and The Duel,
of his stories. At the same time there are innumer-
able short stories European in style and, among his
plays, The Wedding and The Jubilee, here translated,
show the best quality of his work and the service he
was rendering Russian literature. His life was cut
short by consumption, which forced him to leave
the intellectual centres of the north for the warm,
barbaric Crimea. In 1890, however, he travelled in
Siberia to observe the conditions of the political and
xiv INTRODUCTION
criminal exiles. A complete edition of his works
was published in 1903, and in the next year he died
quietly at Baden weiler in the Black Forest.
Chehov is not a great writer ; he is really a great
journalist, and his work has no permanent import-
ance. A French critic has compared his work with
the cinematograph, he himself called it '' sweet
lemonade.'' It was not vodka — there lies its sig-
nificance. He was an embryo European, peculiarly
of France, of the France he had come to know in
his profession and his reading. Now that he had led
Russian literature out of its purely Russian groove,
the natural step was for it to become more and more
European, without losing its national impulse. The
decadence of such modern writers as Andreyev,
Gorki, and Sologub lies in their refusal to recognise
this fact ; they continue to write in a narrow style,
dwarfed even in that by the genius of their fore-
runners, uninspired by the renaissance of European
solidarity that the war has revealed, the spirit that
Von Vizin had and Griboyedov.
The first modern Russian author to work in the
recovered tradition is Nicholas Evreinov, who is
INTRODUCTION xv
represented in this book by his own favourite plays
A Merry Death and The Beautiful Despot. He is still a
young man, being born on February 13, 1879. He was
educated at the aristocratic Imperial School of Law,
in Petrograd, and afterwards studied music under
Rimsky-Korsakov. The present translator had the
pleasure of making his acquaintance at Petrograd last
year and was given several volumes of his collected
plays and parodies. Evreinov has not only an
instinct for drama, but is professionally bound to
the theatre, for, in addition to his plays, he is the
author of several books on stage-craft. What this
means in technique will be seen from A Merry
Death y a masterpiece both of drama and of the
theatre. It is the best Russian play since Woe from
Wit, and, so European is it, its excellence could
be reproduced and appreciated in any country. So
far as the more recent works of Evreinov permit
us to judge, he is unlikely to excel it in the future.
A word or two may be said of Larissa Petrovna
Kossatch (1872-1913), whose pseudonym is '' Lesya
Ukrainka '' — " Lesya of the Ukraine.'' The same
influence that is visible in Chehov and ripe in
xvi INTRODUCTION
Evreinov has been felt also in the newly revived
Ukrainian, or Little Russian, literature. Lesya
Ukrainka gave it a depth and wealth of vocabulary
it sadly needed and, by introducing the European,
has countered the decadent spirit of the ultra-
national Ukrainians. The Babylonian Captivity,
translated as an epilogue to this volume, represents
the enslavement of the Ukraine by its powerful
neighbours ; but its style is a victory.
The translator is indebted to the Editor of The
New Age for permission to reprint five of the plays
in this volume. The translation of The Babylonian
Captivity from the Ukrainian is due mainly to Miss
Sophie Volska, of Kiev. The translations of
Evreinov's two plays, by the way, have his
authorisation. In them, as in the others, stage
directions have been as far as possible omitted.
C. E. BECHHOFER,
A MERRY DEATH
A HARLEQUINADE
By NICHOLAS EVREINOV
CHARACTERS
Harlequin Columbine
Pierrot Doctor
Death
Scene : Harlequin s House
A MERRY DEATH
[Harlequin is sleeping. Pierrot clumsily chases ilie
flies from his face, then turns to the Audience.)
Pierrot : Shhh ! Quiet ! Take your seats quietly
and try to talk and turn in your seats less. Even
if an ingenuous friend has dragged you in and
yourselves are too serious to be interested in a
harlequinade, it's quite superfluous to hint of it
to the public, which in the main has no affair
^th your personal tastes. Besides, Harlequin's
g asleep — you see him ! Shh ! I'll explain it all to
you afterwards. But don't wake him up, please !
And when Columbine comes on, don't applaud
her like mad, just in order to show your neigh-
bours that you know her, had a little intrigue
with her, and can appreciate certain talents. I
beg and entreat you ! It's no joke. Harlequin's
terribly ill ! Just think, he's been raving about
my Columbine, although, of course, there's
nothing in common between him and my Colum-
bine ; there isn't, because Columbine's my wife,
and there's an end of it ! I strongly suspect that
A MERRY DEATH
Harlequin won't live till to-morrow ; a fortune-
teller told him that the day he sleeps longer than
he revels he will die exactly at midnight. Look,
it's just eight o'clock of the evening, and he's
still asleep ! I'll tell you even more — I know,
perhaps for sure, that Harlequin will soon die.
But what decent actor will tell the audience the
end of the play before it begins ? I'm not one of
those who give away the management, and I
thoroughly understand that the audience goes to
the theatre not for any idea in the piece, or
masterly dialogue, but simply to know how the
play ends, and all the same I can't help sighing
and weeping in my long sleeves and saying {sobs) :
" Poor, poor Harlequin, who ever could have
thought it ? " I used to like him very much !
He was my first friend ; though, by the way, this
never prevented me from envying him a little,
because, as everybody knows, if I'm Pierrot, it's
only because I'm not a successful Harlequin.
However, I'm not as simple as my clothes, and, I
assure you, I've managed already to go for a
doctor, although it's useless, because Harlequin
can die quite all right without a doctor ; but —
nice people always do it, and I'm not inferior to
A MERRY DEATH
them ; for, if I didn't behave hke everybody else,
I should be a bold, merry Harlequin, for whom
there are no laws ; but I — I'm only silly, cowardly
Pierrot, whose character, by the way, will be quite
clear to you in the further course of the drama, if
only you stop till the end of the performance and
don't run away now from my chatter ./So I'll
stop it, informing you only of the following plan
which came into my head entirely without out-
side influence : if Harlequin is fated to die exactly
at midnight by this clock, then won't it be a
comradely service on my part to put back the
hands, even for — well, only two hours ? I
always liked taking people in ; but when it's a
matter of taking in death and Harlequin at the
same time, and, as well, for the harm of the first
and the good of the second, I don't think you can
call this plan anything but a genius's./ Well, to
work ! The performance begins ! {Climbs on a
stool and, stretching over the bed on which Harlequin
is sleeping, puts the clock back two hours.) Poor,
poor Harle {Falls down on the floor,) Poor
Pierrot ! {Rubs his back. Harlequin, waking,
smiles,/ pulls Pierrotjowards him by the chin, and
tenderly kisses him
im.jf
A MERRY DEATH
Pierrot {natvely) : I seem to have waked you.
Harlequin : Why didn't you do it earher ?
Pierrot : What f or ?
Harlequin : My hours are numbered.
Pierrot : Rubbish !
Harlequin : I want to Hve them.
Pierrot : * And you will.
Harlequin : You nearly let me sleep them away.
Pierrot : I thought
Harlequin : What's the time ?
Pierrot :/Six./ 4
Harlequin : Only.
Pierrot : Yes. How do you feel ?
Harlequin : Dying.
Pierrot : You're frightening me. {Weeps.)
Harlequin : Stop ! Why, I'm alive ! What have
you done ? Isn't my clock wrong ?
Pierrot : I went for a doctor. Lie down quietly.
'^ (1 must take your temperature.
Harlequin : For a doctor ? {Giggles.) Well, what
of it, if he cures me
Pierrot : Lift up your arm. That's the way.
{Applies a thermometer.) Is that someone coming ?
/The thermometer begins to burn.V
Harlequin : It shows the exact temperature.
A MERRY DEATH
{Pierrot takes away the thermometer and puts out
the flame. J Harlequin jumps up and circles about
snapping' his fingers.) Haha ! Harlequin's not
dead yet !
/TiERROT : Only, a thermometer spoiled,/
Harlequin : JYes, I Ve not long to live ; but
{taking down a lute) look, how many strings are
broken and the rest are frayed ! But does that
stop me playing the introduction to a serenade ?
{Plays. Steps are heard to the left.)
Pierrot: D 'you hear? The doctor ! Stop playing
and lie down quickly. It's he. I can tell people
at once by their step. That could only be some-
one hurrying to help a friend.
Harlequin {stops playing and lies down) : To get
money. {A knock.)
Pierrot : Come in !
Doctor {in huge spectacles, bald, with a big red nose
and a syringe in a bag, comes in, stops, and sings to
the audience) :
^You've only got to call me here,
And at once I'm near, at once I'm near,
At once I'm off to the invalid
To care for him and for his need.
A MERRY DEATH
My piedicines I vary at
The rich man's house and proletariat ;
But there's no need to be obscure,
I only care, but do not cure.
And grind the poor I never did,
0 God forbid, O God forbid !
For wealth from him who'd scrape any ?
You take his only ha'penny.
My medicines I vary at
The rich man's house and proletariat ;
But there's no need to be obscure,
1 only care but do not cure, y
Good-day, my dear Harlequin. What's the
matter with you ?
Harlequin : That's for you to judge.
Doctor : You're quite right. {In Pierrot's ear.)
There's never any need to contradict a patient.
{To Harlequin.) Temperature been taken ?
Pierrot {shaking his hand) : Don't inquire !
Doctor : How do you feel ?
Harlequin : An attack.
Doctor : Of coughing ?
Harlequin : Of laughing.
A MERRY DEATH
Doctor : What are you laughing at ?
Harlequin : You ! {Bursts with laughter.)
Doctor {to Pierrot) : He doesn't beheve in medicine ?
Pierrot : No, apparently only in you.
Doctor : What a curious invalid ! Your pulse,
please. Oho, I can't count quickly enough !
Show your tongue.
Harlequin : To whom ?
Doctor : To me !
Harlequin : Oh, to you ? Delighted ! {Shows his
tongue)
Doctor : Thank you.
Harlequin : Please. {Shows his tongue again.)
Doctor : Enough, enough !
Harlequin : Oh, that's quite all right ! {Shows it
again.)
Doctor : I've seen it already.
Harlequin : Just as you like. {Puts in his tongue.)
Doctor : I've got to listen to you.
Harlequin : What shall I talk about ?
Doctor : No, I say : I've got to listen to you.
Harlequin : Well, and I ask you, what about ?
Doctor : You don't understand me. ^y /
Harlequin : You ? ^No-, ncr, no; iicvcr f People
like me can see right through you ; but people
10 A MERRY DEATH
like you,/lll eat my hat/ can never understand
people like me ! '
Doctor : He's raving. Very well ! Now, allow me
to lay my head upon your heart ! It's necessary
in order to
Harlequin : But your wife isn't jealous ?
Doctor : He's got a strong fever. If my ears aren't
burned, it'll be a piece of luck. Yes, yes, you're
very ill ; but let's hope you'll soon be w^ell. {To
Pierrot.) There's no hope ; the machine is
spoiled. {To Harlequin.) You'll live a long time
yet. {To Pierrot.) He'll die very soon. {To
Harlequin.) You did very well to send for me.
{To Pierrot.) You'd better have sent for a
coffin-maker. {To Harlequin.) You've a healthy
system. {To Pierrot.) And that won't help him.
{To Harlequin.) You've only got to be cured.
{To Pierrot.) And that's no use.
Harlequin : What do you advise me ?
Doctor : You must go to bed early. No excite-
ments. Drink absolutely nothing. Don't eat
anything sharp, salt, fat, spiced, bitter, milky,
over-cold, over-hot, very, very sweet, or very, very
filling. Quiet habits, mustn't get roused. Always
mind draughts. Keep quite awaj^ from frivolity.
A MERRY DEATH ii
Harlequin : Very well ; but is a life like that
worth living ?
Doctor : That's your affair.
Harlequin : What illness have I got ?
Doctor : Old age.
Harlequin : Why, I could be your son !
Doctor : You're too impudent for that. Good-bye.
{To Pierrot.) And who pays for the visit ?
(Pierrot nods towards Harlequin.)
Doctor (again to Harlequin) : Good-bye.
Harlequin : Good-bye. (Doctor goes out unde-
cidedly and stops.) Have you forgotten anything ?
Doctor : Have you forgotten anything ?
Harlequin : No, nothing ; I thoroughly remember
all your instructions. Don't be uneasy.
Doctor : No, no ; I'm not uneasy about that.
Harlequin : Then about what ?
Doctor : H'm. Speaking between ourselves, you've
forgotten to pay me for my visit.
Harlequin : Impossible ! How curious !
Doctor : But please don't be angry with me.
Harlequin : Good heavens, no !
Doctor : Then good-bye.
Harlequin (shaking his hand feelingly) : Good-bye,
doctor, good-bye.
12 A MERRY DEATH
Doctor : H'm. You're just as forgetful again.
Harlequin : Yes, yes. There's a coincidence !
You're quite right. It would be impudent of me
to maintain the opposite.
Doctor : Well, there you are ; I'm reminding you.
Harlequin : I'm heartily grateful.
Doctor : There's no need for gratitude.
Harlequin : No ! Good heavens !
Doctor : And so — my fee ?
Harlequin : You'll get it when I get well, when
you've cured me.
Doctor : Yes ; but I ought to tell you that I
reckon to cure all illnesses except the incurable ;
but yours
Harlequin : Well, then, when an improvement
comes, when your advice begins to work. But
then, who knows ? Perhaps you lied. Why
should I pay then ?
Doctor : In that case I must inform you that —
that, judging from the condition of your system,
you won't live even till to-morrow.
Harlequin [jumping out of bed) : What ! In that
case, why the devil should I pay ?
Doctor : But when you die, who'll pay me ?
Harlequin : But for what, let me ask you ?
A MERRY DEATH 13
Doctor : How, for what ?
Harlequin : If I actually die to-day, then what's
the use of your art that can't save me from
death ? And if I survive, then again it's no use
if it knows less than an ignorant fortune-teller.
Doctor : I didn't come here to talk philosophy.
Harlequin : I know why you came.
Doctor : No insinuations, if you please.
Harlequin : He calls that insinuations. {Pulling
out a purse from under his pillow.) Here's what
you came for. [Goes to the door and holds out the
money,)
Doctor [reaching out) : Thank you. [Harlequin
laughs Jand runs out at one side and in at the other,
the Doctor after him. He does this three times/and
then gives the Doctor the money.)
Harlequin : What do you say to my playfulness ?
Doctor :/fou know, sir-^here's the best of luck in
the other world — it's the first time I've seen a
dying man like you. What's that noise you're
making ?
Harlequin : That's my heart beating. (Noise of a
steam-engine.)/
Doctor : And that ?
Harlequin ; My breathing.
14 A MERRY DEATH
Doctor : And you're still on your legs ?
Harlequin : Oh, yes ! And I've kept fairly merry,
so as to meet boldly the death I desire.
Doctor : Why do you desire it ?
Harlequin : Oh, it's just coming at the right
time ! The man that lives wisely always desires
his death.
Doctor : You're talking in riddles.
Harlequin : Yes, for people like you. {Laughs.)
Doctor : How do you know ^ \ , ,
Harlequin : If you like, I'll t-e^ou how you'll die.
Doctor : Interesting.
Harlequin [lies on bed and shivers with all his body,
then groans) : Oh ! Ah ! Ugh ! I'm still so
young. I haven't been able to live yet as I ought.
Why have I been so abstinent all my life ? I've
still got all sorts of things I want to do. Turn
me to the window. I'm not tired yet of looking
at the world. Help ! I've not been able to do
half I wanted. I was never in a hurry to live
because I always forgot about death. Help, help !
I haven't been able to enjoy myself yet ; I've
always kept my health, my strength, and my
money for the morrow. I filled it with beautiful
hopes, and it rolled on like a snowball, growing
A MERRY DEATH 15
bigger and bigger. Has that morrow rolled for
ever beyond the bounds of the possible ? It has
rolled down the slope of my mortal wisdom.
Oh ! Ah ! Ugh ! {Twists for the last time,
extends, and dies. The Doctor weeps. Harlequin,
with a laugh, gets up and applauds himself.) No !
Not so dies Harlequin !
Doctor {weeping) : What must I do ?
Harlequin {holds out his hand) : For the advice,
please. I take in advance.
Doctor : How much ?
Harlequin : As much as you.
Doctor {gives back his fee) : Well ?
Harlequin {with importance) : Go and live. Nothing
else.
Doctor : What does that mean ?
Harlequin : Well, if you don't understand, you're
incurable. I tell you, go and live, but live, not
like an immortal, but like a man that may die
to-morrow.
Doctor {shakes his head doubtfully) : H'm. FU try
it. {Wipes his eyes.) Good-bye, Mr. Harlequin.
Harlequin : Good-bye, Mr. Doctor. {Exit Doctor,
finger on brow.) Well, what have you got to say
of it, Pierrot ?
i6 A MERRY DEATH
Pierrot : Nothing good. [It grows dark.)
Harlequin : The old ape imagined I don't feel
death coming. As if a man, sleeping longer than
he revels, could still have doubts about the ap-
proach of death. But what's the time ? {The
clock shows eight.) Hasn't the clock stopped ?
It always went in step with me, but now
Pierrot : You're too nervous.
Harlequin : We can't all be hke you.
Pierrot : What do you mean ?
Harlequin : You'll soon see. Help me to lay the
table for supper.
Pierrot [going to the cupboard) : With great pleasure.
Harlequin: We must lay for three.
Pierrot: Three? -
Harlequin : Yes.
Pierrot : Whom's the third for ?
Harlequin : For Death.
Pierrot : She'll sit down with us ?
Harlequin : If you're not afraid of her.
Pierrot : Two glasses are enough ; I won't have
supper with you.
Harlequin : Come, come ! I was joking. Death
will sup^pp. me. That's sufficient for her. But,
all the sam^, lay for three. {Lights the lamp.)
A MERRY DEATH 17
Pierrot : But whom's the third for ?
Columbine's voice {sings) :
I from my husband unsuspected
Steal to another 'neath the moon ;
When desire's interdicted,
Doubly 'tis desired soon.
Ah, my heart is trembling.
Fainting, beating slow —
If my spouse should see me.
Should hearken, and should know.
Pierrot : What's that ? Columbine's voice ! My
wife's voice !
Harlequin : Now you know whom the third place
is for.
Pierrot [tragically) : A-ah ! Traitor ! A-ah !
Demon ! This is your friendship !
Harlequin : Be calm. Why, nothing's happened
yet ! ^^u.-^—
Pierrot : It only wants that !
Harlequin : And if I were to say that it doesn^t
even want that ?
Pierrot : And you dare pretend that you love me !
Harlequin : I love you both. But you want it to
be only you, and so you're jealous,
c
i8 A MERRY DEATH
Pierrot : You know very well how, of whom, and
why I'm jealous.
Harlequin : Be sensible. If you love me and love
Columbine, you ought to be happy for both our
sakes. Besides, you know we both love you. So
what is there to be sad about ? Lay a third
place.
Pierrot : No, Fm not so simple. Nice people
don't behave like that, and there's nothing else
left for me than to revenge myself on you.
Harlequin : In what way ?
Pierrot : By death.
Harlequin : But it'll come soon anyhow — my
hours are numbered. Who will prevent you
afterwards from telling everybody that it was
the work of your hands ?
Pierrot : Suppose
Harlequin : Come, what is there to talk about !
Lay a third place.
Pierrot [considering) : Yes, but
Harlequin : Come, come. Time's precious. [Pierrot
fetches the plates and drops tiiJm.) Butterfingers !
/Vou were bound to smash 'em. /
Pierrot [pathetically) : It's not for you to reproach
me ! You've destroyed my happiness.
A MERRY DEATH 19
Harlequin {laying the third place) : No phrases,
please ! YouVe been cold with Columbine for a
long time, and you're only jealous because it's
good manners. But, shh !
Columbine's voice :
Columbine has donned her mask
And is clad in motley gear, O,
Wants to see her Harlequin
But's afraid of meeting Pierrot.
Ah, her heart is trembling.
Fainting, beating slow —
If her spouse should see her,
I Should hearken, and should know.
Harlequin : I'm going to meet Columbine ; you
look after the lamp. {Exit.)
Pierrot : H'm. Look after the lamp ! {Suddenly
strikes his forehead.) Wouldn't it be better to
look after the clock ? Well, if Harlequin's death
ought to be the work of my hands, very well !
Ladies and gentlemen, you are my witnesses ! I
don't leave that sort of things unpunished — I'll
put the hands on two hours. {Does so.) Ah !
Harlequin, evidently no one can escape his fate.
Now I'm quite calm : I'm revenged. Interesting
20 A MERRY DEATH
to see how she'll look at me. This way, please,
Madame Traitress.
Harlequin [off) : Don't be afraid, Columbine !
Go in fearlessly. I've persuaded him, and, word
of honour, he's consented.
Columbine {enters) : Consented ? ! Here's a fine
thing ! Consented ! What, you little beast,
that's all you think of your wife ! You don't
care if she betrays you ? You don't care ?
Answer ! (Beats Pierrot,)
Pierrot {agonised) : But listen, Columbine.
Columbine : What ? I must listen to you ? Listen
to the worst little beast of a husband of all little
beasts of husbands ?
Pierrot : But, Columbine.
Columbine : Blockhead !
Pierrot : You don't let me utter a word.
Columbine {beats him) : You've got no excuse !
And I, poor thing, married a little beast like you !
Gave you all the best there was in me ! And he
can't even stand up for my conjugal honour !
Take that, and that, and that, you good-for-
nothing !
Pierrot : But that's too much ! Harlequin,
protect me.
A MERRY DEATH 21
Harlequin : This is your own business.
Pierrot : Yes, but, dear old chap
Harlequin : I haven't been brought up to interfere
in other people's private matters.
Columbine {to Pierrot) : There, that's how you
love me ! That's how jealous you are of me !
Where are your vows, you pagan ?
Pierrot {coming to himself) : Oh, to Hell with this,
I never heard of such a thing ! Why, you im-
pudent woman, you came here yourself to a
rendezvous and yet you dare say
Columbine : That's enough ! Be quiet ! I know
the little ways of rogues like you : when you're
found out you start to find fault with the innocent,
so as to get out of the difficulty. But you don't
deceive me, you good-for-nothing.^ /^^^z al/Ckh
Harlequin {interposing) : Friends," don't let's
waste precious time ! When supper's waiting, is
it worth while spoiling one's appetite ?
Columbine and Pierrot : But it is irritating !
Harlequin : I don't hke to see quarrels starting.
Columbine and Pierrot : It's not my fault.
Harlequin : Better make friends !
Columbine and Pierrot : Not for anything.
Harlequin : What obstinacy !
22 A MERRY DEATH
Columbine and Pierrot : Fve been wounded in
my finest feelings.
Harlequin : Come, enough.
Columbine and Pierrot : No.
yi^A'> Columbine : First he ought to be punished.
Harlequin : In what way ?
Columbine : Kiss me, Harlequin ! Dear, sweet
Harlequin.
Harlequin : Not to offend you with a refusal —
{kisses her), I was always an obliging cavalier.
{Kisses her,) Besides that, Fve got a tender
heart. {Kisses her.) Even children know it.
{Kisses her.) And finally, as host — {kisses her) —
I ought to be polite to my guests — {kisses her) —
especially when it concerns — {kisses her) — the
fair sex. {Kisses her,)
^H Pierrot : Wretches ! They don't suspect that Fm
^^^ already revenged and so can be absolutely calm.
Columbine {to Harlequin) : Kiss me more warmly,
more strongly, more painfully, almost biting me,
without losing breath. {Is kissed as she desires.)
Pierrot : They imagine they're mortally provoking
me.
Columbine {to Harlequin) : Once more ! Once
more ! {To Pierrot.) Oh ! you unfeeling log !
A MERRY DEATH 23
Pierrot : Please do what you like. {To Audience.)
My conscience is clean ; I have vindicated mv
honour and have nothing to worry about.
Columbine (to Harlequin) : Kiss my eyes, my fore-
head, my cheeks, my chin, my temples. {Harle-
quin does not wait to be asked a second time.)
Pierrot {to Audience) : Gentlemen, you are wit-
nesses that I've taken my revenge.
Columbine {to Harlequin) : Kiss my neck where
the hair ends and where a sweet shivering comes
from your kisses.
Pierrot : I don't care. Let them do as they want.
I have fulfilled the duty of an affronted husband
and never felt better in my life.
Columbine {stamping at Pierrot) : There, you brute !
I Is all this nothing to you ? •
Pierrot {to Audience) : I'm wearing them out with
my nonchalance.
Columbine {to Harlequin) : Well, shall we celebrate
our Dance of Love, in spite of him.
Harlequin : I don't dare refuse you, but
Columbine : What " but " ?
Harlequin : But if Pierrot isn't such a lover of
dancing as to forget everything in the world !
Pierrot : Please, don't mind me ? {To Audience.)
24 A MERRY DEATH
I'm revenged for everything in advance and
needn't be disturbed, whatever happens.
Harlequin {giving him the lute) : Perhaps you'll
accompany us ?
Columbine : Of course ! Is he to do nothing ?
Pierrot : With the greatest pleasure, if it helps
you. (To Audience,) I hope you understand
what a matter of indifference this is to a husband
who can vindicate his wounded honour.
Columbine : Play !
Pierrot [to Audience) : Lord, how easy you are,
• when you're revenged, and nobody has any right
to laugh at you. {Plays vigorously. Dance,
Suddenly Harlequin falls in a faint on the bed,
Pierrot stops playing.)
Columbine : What's happened to you ? What's
the matter ?
Harlequin {holding his heart) : No — it's nothing, a
trifle. {His heart beats like a sledge-hammer, and he
breathes like an engine.)
Columbine : How furiously your heart's beating !
What terrible breathing !
Pierrot {to Audience, joyfully) : Harlequin's giving
in. Harlequin's weakening. Rejoice with me,
poor husbands — you whose wives are in danger !
A MERRY DEATH 25
Columbine {to Harlequin) : Nothing like this has
ever happened to you before.
Pierrot {to Audience) : By the way, don't be angry
with me, because, after all, Harlequin's my friend,
and there's an end of it. I'm not going to quarrel
with him, indeed, for a harlot ! And if he's more
to Columbine's taste than I, he's not to blame,
but Columbine, for having such bad taste. By
the way, I said this from envy. {Reflects.)
Harlequin {stands up and smiles, and kisses
Columbine) : Come, did I frighten you ? Well,
forgive me. {Looks at the clock, which is nearing
twelve.) Soon you'll know the real reason.
Columbine : What's the matter ?
Harlequin : Let's sit down to supper. The dance
woke up my appetite, and I feel magnificent.
{They sit down and eat and drink.)
Columbine : What are you hiding from me ?
Harlequin : Come, drink. Columbine, drink !
When there's good wine on the table, there's no
need to worry about anything. {Kisses her.)
Pierrot {to Audience) : O Lord, I'm undergoing
incredible pangs of conscience. To think only of
the harm I've caused Harlequin ! And what
for ? What for ? I can't swallow a thing, and I
26 A MERRY DEATH
don't know how to look at Harlequin ! I'd
willingly confess my wicked crime to him now !
But alas ! I can't do it, because what would my
revenge come to then ? And I can't go without
revenging myself. I'm a deceived husband, and
ought to revenge myself, because all nice people
do. Oh, how unhappy I am, and how I want to
cry ! {Threatens the audience with his fist.) Bad,
wicked people, it's you thought out such silly
rules ! It's because of you I've got to take the life
of my best friend ! [Turns his hack on the public)
Harlequin {to Columbine) : Why were you late
to-day ?
Columbine : I was detained by the Doctor — I met
him quite near here. He was dancing and limping
and drunk and accosting all the girls.
Harlequin : Well ?
Columbine : He prayed me to make him happy.
He assured me that he was very strong and had
been very handsome thirty years ago. While I
was showing him that I wasn't a historian to
be captivated by antiquity, time passed and I
was late.
Harlequin {to Audience) : Poor Doctor ! Why
didn't he come to me earlier for advice ?
A MERRY DEATH 27
Columbine : I was very sorry for him.
Harlequin {to Audience) : Your elbow's near and
yet you can't bite it !
Columbine : He was weeping and crying : " Why
the devil did I preserve my strength ? " And I
answered him : *' I have respect for your wrinkles,
but not passion."
Harlequin : But you know. Columbine, he is
younger than I, though twice as old in years.
Columbine : I don't understand you.
Harlequin : Because you haven't meditated on
real old age. [Tapping Pierrot on shoulder,) But
why aren't you drinking or eating and taking
part in our conversation ?
Columbine : He wants to depress us, but he shan't,
the good-for-nothing !
Pierrot [weeping) : You don't understand, poor
thing, that Harlequin's dying.
Columbine : Dying ? You horrid thing ! Or have
you put poison in our glasses ? No, no [con-
temptuously) ; men like you aren't capable of that.
Pierrot [all in tears) : Poor Harlequin, your
minutes are numbered !
Columbine : What's he say ? What's he making
up ?
28 A MERRY DEATH
Harlequin (turning to the clock) : Yes, Columbine,
it's true. It's time for you to know it. I feel
plainly that I shall soon die.
Columbine : Harlequin ! Beloved !
Harlequin : Don't cry, Columbine ! I shall go
away with a smile on my lips. I want to die as
people want to sleep, when it's late and they're
tired and need rest. I've sung all my songs !
I've revelled all my merriment ! I've laughed all
my laughter ! My strength and health have been
joyfully spent with my money. I was never
mean, and so was always merry and sorrowless.
I am Harlequin, and shall die Harlequin. Don't
cry. Columbine ! Rather be glad that I'm dying,
not like others, but full of delight, content with
fate and my conduct. Or would you rather see
me grappling to life with greedy eyes and a
prayer on my lips ? No, Harlequin is not like
that. He has fulfilled his mission in life and dies
calmly. And, really, didn't I give my kisses to
who wanted them ? Didn't I lavish my soul for
the good of others ? How many wives of ugly
husbands I consoled ! And how many little hats
did I make for people who thought themselves
sages ! How many I awoke to passionate song or
A MERRY DEATH 29
rattling rage ! To how many I gave an example !
Now I have outlived my life, and only the husk is
left for death ! *' Catch the moments '' — that's
my motto ! And I have not been idle to catch
them ! Fve caught so many that I want no more.
Now, perhaps, another kiss, a little draught of
wine, a burst of merry laughter — and it will
be!
Columbine : But aren't you afraid ?
Harlequin : It would be more frightful to be born !
Now I'm going back again.
Columbine : To sink into nothing !
Harlequin : But if death's nothing, what have I
to fear ?
Columbine : Anyhow, I'm afraid.
Harlequin : Your bowl's not emptied ; you're
afraid not to be ready.
Columbine : But only think
Harlequin : It thinks for us.
Columbine : But we ?
Harlequin : We'll remember the march of the
clock — the swift march of the clock ! Stretch
out. Columbine ! Press the clusters of life !
Turn them to wine ! Don't tarry for delight, so
as to be sated when death comes ! {Takes the lute)
30 A MERRY DEATH
And you, too, stretch out, friend Pierrot, if only
you can. {Pierrot, in reply, sobs. Harlequin
laughs.) No, no, not like that ; you don't under-
stand me.
Pierrot : The lamp's flickering.
Harlequin : And there's no oil in the house.
Columbine : But look, it's still burning !
Harlequin : It's burning. Columbine, burning !
{Begins to play. The strings break.)
Columbine {sorrowfully) : The strings have broken.
Harlequin {laughs) : My catch is sung. {A knock.)
Who's there ? {Death enters. Harlequin rises to
meet her. He is very gallant.) To do justice,
madame, you have come just in time. We were
only just talking about you. Really, how obliging
you are, not to keep yourself waiting ! But why
these tragic gestures ? Look round, madame ;
you are in the house of Harlequin, where one can
laugh at all that's tragic, not even excluding your
gestures. {Death points at the clock with a theatrical
gesture.) Enough, enough, madame. Really, if
I hadn't laughed all my laughter, I should burst
of laughing in the literal sense of the word. What,
you want to stop the clock ? There's plenty of
time, madame. As far as I know, my hour has
A MERRY DEATH 31
not yet struck. Or you're anticipating a struggle
with me ? No, no ; I don't belong to the silly
bourgeois boors. Honour and place to a beautiful
lady ! I don't want to cross her, and then I can't
oppose her, because I've used up all my strength.
But the traditional dance ? Your dance of the
good old times, when people hadn't yet forgotten
how to die, and even Death was a distraction for
them. If you please ! Ah, you're surprised at
the request ! Yes, yes. Harlequin in our time is
almost a fossil. Well, fair lady, enough obstinacy.
{Music. Death dances.) Columbine, Pierrot, open
your eyes, open them quickly ! Look how merry
we are ! {Harlequin snakes Columbine sit down
beside him on the bed. Death places her hand on
his shoulder. To Death.) Wait, my dear lady,
wait. Let me take leave of the world as the
world does ! One more, only one more kiss.
Columbine ! Pierrot, where have you got to, you
coward ? {Rises.) Well, if you're too lazy to light
me. {Gives the lamp to Death.) Light the way.
Death ; there's still a tiny drop of oil in the lamp.
{Death separates him from Columbine.)
Columbine {as in a dream) : My Harlequin ! My
beloved ! {The lamp goes out. Then the moon
32 A MERRY DEATH
lights up the stage. It is twelve o'clock. Columbine
is kneeling at Harleqtmis death-bed. Pierrot comes
in on the right.)
Pierrot {to A^idience) : Here's a situation. I really
don't know what I ought to bewail first : the loss
of Harlequin, the loss of Columbine, my own
bitter lot or yours, dear audience, who have
witnessed the performance of such an unserious
author. And what did he want to say in his
piece? — I don't understand. By the way, I'm
silly, cowardly Pierrot, and it's not for me to
criticise the piece in which I played an unenviable
role. But your astonishment will increase still
more when you know what I have been told to
say in conclusion by the culprit of this — well,
between ourselves — this strange mockery of the
public. Shhh ! Listen I *' When the genius
Rabelais was dying, the monks collected round his
couch and tried in every way to induce him
to do penance for his sins. Rabelais, in reply,
only smiled, and when the moment of the end
came, he said mockingly : * Let down the cur-
tain ; the farce is over.' He said this and died."
Why the graceless author thought it necessary
to put other people's words into the mouth of
A MERRY DEATH 33
one of the actors, I don't know — Fve not a free
hand in the matter ; but being a respectable actor,
I stand by him to the last and so, obeying with-
out dispute the will of the author, I shout mock-
ingly : Let down the curtain ; the farce is over.
[The curtains fall behind him) Ladies and gentle-
men, I forgot to tell you that neither your ap-
plause nor your hissing of the piece is likely to be
taken seriously by the author, who preaches that
nothing in life is worth taking seriously. And I
suggest that if truth is on his side, then you
should hardly take his play seriously, all the more
as Harlequin has probably risen from his death-
be^ already, and, perhaps, is already tidying
himself in anticipation of a call, because, say
what you like, but the actors can't be responsible
for the free-thinking of the author. [Exit)
(Curtain)
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
THE LAST ACT OF A DRAMA
By NICHOLAS EVR^ijNOV
CHARACTERS
The Master,
and his
Companion,
Friend,
Maid,
Manservant,
Fool-Hermaphrodite,
Arab Boy and
Favourite Witch.
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
[The play takes place in the late autumn of 1904.
The room luxuriously furnished in the style of a
century before. The Master of the house, his
Lady Companion, Manservant and Fool-Her-
maphrodite with a monkey. All are dressed in
antique style)
Servant [with animation) : " Tally-ho ! Tally-ho !
Hark ! Follow, follow ! *' The hounds were at
their last gasp. They were only a length behind
him. Now they've got him, thought I No !
the little lord held out another ten minutes —
he doubled, the ragamuffin, and doubled again,
and again — at last the whip was going to turn
the pack back ! — Aha ! just look ! — I can't
describe it ! — its tongue hanging out, its eyes
bulging. — What a beauty, just — *' On him,'' we
shouted. " Tally-ho ! Tally-ho ! There he goes,
here he goes, this way, that way." " No, no,
37
38 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
you've gone enough ! " Within a minute he was
done for. — How his brush trailed. The dear old
chap was done for, the old fellow was done.
Master : Good work, begad.
Servant : Ay, I dare swear there's no sport in the
world to beat fox-hunting, nothing !
Master : No, Egorich, give things their due. For
instance, I'm extraordinarily pleased with to-
day's sport. Not even God knows how many
brace I shot, but there w^ere some moments
that {Kisses the tips of his fingers.)
Companion : Who said that hunting was a cruel
pastime ?
Servant : Some jealous beast who can't shoot ot
can't afford a gun ! {Laughs.)
Fool {in motley, screams like a monkey) : Kiriki,
kirikoo, kiriki.
Master {drinking) : Impeaching human happiness
— that's real cruelty. Ahem ! I've dined well
to-day. {To Servant.) My compliments to your
wife ; to-day's dinner was excellent. I'm not
calling her up to compliment her, from considera-
tion for her corns. But how's Diana ?
Companion : I heard her howling.
Servant : Yes, I gave her another bath with bran
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 39
and rubbed her belly with camphorated oil ; but
you'll have to bleed her, as sure as life. {Maid
brings in a long lit tobacco-pipe.)
Companion {beckoning at Fool with a biscuit) :
Chick, chick, chick, chick.
Master : Poor little doggie ! However could it
have happened ? {Smokes. Fool scrambles up to
Companion, ivho pulls his ear.)
Companion : Ah, you good-for-nothing. You like
to play cards, but you don't like to be smacked
for forfeits. Where did you run away to when
you lost ? {Fool squeals.) Til show you ! I'll
show you ! I'll show you !
Fool : I'll set the house on fire ! I'll set the house
on fire ! {Runs after Maid and pulls her braids.)
Bom ! Bom-bom-bom ! Bom-bom-bom-bom !
Maid : Let go ! Let go, you nasty thing ! D'you
hear, let go ! Egorich, take him away.
Fool : I'm ringing the alarm. Fire ! We're alight !
Bom - bom - bom - bom ! Bom - bom - bom - bom !
{Exit Maid. Servant beats him.) Tt, you ! One
foot in the grave, and still fighting ! {Goes back
to his monkey.)
Companion : But what if he really does set the
house on fire ? What will happen ?
40 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
Master : Well, the stables will be burned too.
They're so near the house. {Smiles, To Fool.)
True, fool ?
Fool : A true fool !
Master : Yes, I really am. To be the owner of
estates with such a fine chase, and instead of
shooting and enjoying myself in the open air
Servant : How often didn't I say to you in the
town : the woodcock are dull without you, the
wolves run about in the garden in the daytime,
everyone says, " Where's master ? "
Master : Don't tell me ; I'm laughing at myself.
Servant : And you didn't want to know ; you used
to sit with those long-haired people, you used to
write books for them, you were getting pale and
thin
Companion : Next time I'll go hunting too ! My
costume's been repaired.
Servant : I can understand those long-haired
vagabonds writing books ; they haven't got
estates or health, and the colour of their faces
isn't worth spoiling. But you're a rich gentle-
man, such a gentleman, that your little toe would
show you were a gentleman, and then all of a
sudden
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 41
Master : Ah ! when you were speaking the truth,
I was full of prejudices
Servant : Only to think how much time you
wasted for nothing
Master : Nearly all my youth
Companion : But who said he wasn't going to talk
of the past ? There's firm determination ! In-
stead of sad recollections, Egorich, you'd much
better tell us how his grandfather drove out in
the coach with girls for horses. But in detail.
I and Grusha intend to take him out the same
way.
Servant : Ah, young lady ! That's impossible !
There are no girls now like there used to be.
Are there ? Can you see them now with blood
as thick as milk, and strong as horses, and such
teeth — oh ! it used to hurt to look at them, they
glistened so. And their calves were burnt like
your iron and their braids were like whips ! Oho,
young lady, those times have gone, there are no
more pretty girls like there used to be.
Companion : Come, tell us how it used to be.
Maid [enters) : The witch has come. Is she to wait ?
Master : No, no, call her in at once, call the dear
old lady in.
4^ THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
Servant : May I clear ?
Master : Yes, and bring in the candelabra.
Servant : Yes, sir. [Exit.)
Fool {plays with monkey) : Kiriki, kirikoo, kirikoo.
Companion : How soon it gets dark now !
Master : Well, shall we take her potions and fly
to the Brocken.
Companion : I'm afraid only it might upset your
health.
Master : What nonsense ! In the first place
{points at Fool) he dreamed I was so well, and in
the second, what's health ? Isn't it money to
be spent neither too stingily nor too prodigally ?
Companion : I don't know why, but you're in a
reasoning mood to-day. But we must ask the
witch about his dream. {Enter Servant with
candelabra.) Where's the Arab boy gone to ?
Servant : He's sitting with Diana ; they're both
black and miserable.
Maid {enters) : She's coming !
Master : Aha.
Maid : Now then, limp up. {Enter Witch.)
(Master: Ah! good day, my dear.
1 Companion: Good-day, beauty.
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 43
Master : Your ugliness gets more beautiful every
day.
Companion : Will you be a hundred years old the
day after to-morrow ?
Servant : What ? Has she been merry-making
all this time ?
Master : Still the same success with the goats ?
Ah, the rogue knows how to make her warts suit
her face. She knows the scents that please the
long tails.
Maid : Why don't you speak, you stockfish ?
Companion : She's collecting herself.
Maid [holds a live log under the witch's nose) : What's
it smell of ? Eh ? What's it smell of ? {Witch
hisses. All laugh.) What, don't you like it, you
big-faced sorceress ?
Master : Listen, you rogue. Last night our fool had
a quite extraordinary dream. First he dreamed
that he, a fool, had been appointed to a terribly
responsible post. Well, so far there's nothing
extraordinary, that happens all round us every
day, but after that {The Arab boy enters
with a card on a silver tray. General conster-
nation.)
Master {astonished) : Well, this is the last thing I
44 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
expected. (Pause.) Egorich, go and ask him
into the hall. {Exit Servant.) What the
I'm in my dressing-gown. — Here's a surprise !
Companion : Whoever is it ? {Looks at card.) Oh,
it's the man who was exiled ?
Master : Yes, who'd have thought of him ? {To
Witch.) My dear, go to the kitchen for a little
while !
Companion : Interesting to know what he wants ?
Why ever has he come all this way ? Why, isn't
he a famous writer now ? {Exeunt Witch, Arab
hoy, and Maid.)
Master : And a famous man of learning.
Companion : Well, he's not got such a wonderful
mind, so I heard.
Master : But he's got something. He preferred
martyrdom for an idea to any kind of jobbery,
and consequently-
Companion : And you'll receive this adventurer ?
Master : I want to be polite, and besides, he's
better than the others.
Companion : But how are we to behave with him ?
Master : To change would be obviously too great
an honour for such a gentleman. The year 1808
will continue ; guests have come — and I'll put
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 45
on my uniform. That's what my great-grand-
father would have done.
Companion : Hell destroy all the illusion.
Master : All ? He's not so strong as that.
Servant [enters) : The gentleman says he's frozen
from the journey.
Master : Ask him in here. There's a fire here.
Have the candles lit on the walls, and come and
help me dress. {Exit.)
Servant : Very good, sir. [At the door Maid runs
into him.) What the devil have they all lost their
heads about ? [Exit.)
Maid [to Companion) : What shall we do ?
Companion : Everything's to be as it was ; to-
day's the second of October, 1808, and you and
I are just his slaves. Although he's so tired, he's
gone to put on his uniform. If we don't earn his
approval, well, — why, he makes less of us every
day.
Maid : Oh, but don't you Uke that ?
Companion : Light the room up more.
Maid : I'm so excited. I'm burning all over.
Companion : Try some cold water. [Exit.)
Fool ; We're on fire ? Water ! Water ! [Enter
46 THE BEXUTIFUL DESPOT
Friend of Mastery in normal twentieth-century
clothes, with spectacles, followed by Servant.)
Friend : I should, er — I don't know — if I could
brush myself a little — to tell the truth — the dirt
of the railway — it's the worst thing on earth
Servant : You can get warm here by the stove and
have a brush down. Grusha, bring a brush.
Friend : What a long way you are from the station !
How's the master, is he well ?
Servant : Oh yes. Did you get good horses, if I
might ask ?
Friend {looking round amazed) : Er, yes, not bad.
Servant : The girl will brush you, but master's
calling me. Grusha, do it properly ! (Exit.)
Friend {moving away from the monkey) : It, er —
doesn't bite ?
Maid : It doesn't bite its friends.
Friend : But strangers ?
Maid : Strangers don't come here.
Friend : Don't come here ? But, er — your master,
is he, er — absolutely well ?
Maid : Yes, absolutely.
Friend : Lucky the monkey isn't free !
Maid : Goodness gracious, why, nobody's free at
master's.
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 47
Fool [approaches) : Who are you ?
Friend : And who are you ?
Fool [importantly] : I'm Johnny Cracken and
Jenny Jolly, but what's your name ?
Friend [hiding his confusion) : I'm called Vanya
at home. [Laughs awkwardly.)
Fool : What's the joke ? [To Maid,) What's he
laughing at ? [To Monkey.) What's he laughing
at ? Let's leave the sinner. [Exit.)
Friend [pale) : Who's that ?
Maid : He told you : Johnny Cracken and Jenny
Jolly.
Friend : Er — is your master really quite well ?
Maid : Oh yes. He's just coming. [Pause.)
Friend : I should like to know — how many miles
is it from here to the railway ?
Maid [astonished) : To the railway ? What's the
railway ?
Friend : You don't know what a railway is ?
Maid : I've never heard of one.
Friend : Do you mean to say — do you — well yes,
er — do you all live here, without ever going
outside ?
Maid : Yes, without going outside.
Friend ; Hm. — Your face seems familiar.
48 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
Maid : Fve never seen you before. I think you're
here the first time
Friend : I can't quite recall where — but still — I
don't know, perhaps Fm mistaken. [Picks up
book and reads) : '' The Political, Statistical, and
Geographical Journal; or, The Contemporary
History of the World. 1808. Third part. Third
book. September." — [Picks up another.) — ''The
Genius of the Times," 1808. — '* St. Petersburg
Review " — '' Northern Mercury " — all September,
1808. — Tell me, that is, er, tell me, what are
these papers, old ones ?
Maid : I don't know ; we don't know anything
about those things. [Lights the last candles.)
Friend : I don't understand what sort of candles
these are. They're funny.
Maid : Funny ? They're the best sort of tallow.
Friend : Tallow ? Listen. What does this all
mean ? Come, I entreat you, tell me what it's
all about ? My head's going round. — Oh ! Why,
you're Baroness Nordman, or Fve gone mad, or
I've got hallucinations, or I'm dreaming !
Maid : But, sir !
Friend : You're Baroness Nordman, whom I met
only a year ago at the Sociological Society !
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 49
Maid : But, sir !
Friend : I've no more doubts. You're Helen,
Baroness Nordman.
Maid {withdrawing) : Lord preserve us ! What are
you talking about, sir ? I'm a serf, a chamber-
maid, my name's Grusha, I wash the floor.
Friend : A serf ? {Pause.) But serfdom was
abolished in 1861 ! ! !
Maid : Lord preserve us ! Why it's only 1808 now !
Friend : What ? ! ! {Enter Master. Exit Maid.)
Master {in old-fashioned unijorm) : Good-day —
whatever's the matter ?
Friend : What does all this mean ? I entreat you,
in the name of God, tell me what it all means ?
Oh ! Oh ! my heart ! Water ! Water !
Fool {entering with Companion) : Water ! Water !
Fire !
Master : Are you ill ? What has happened ?
Friend : Spray me with water ! Pinch me as
hard as you can, because I'm fast asleep, I'm
frightened and I can't wake up. Wake me up !
This is hellish ! Or have I got hallucinations ? ! !
{More quietly.) I've been travelling two days in
the train and almost a whole day in the carriage.
If you're trying to hoax me, it's not at all nice of
E
50 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
you : Fve got neurasthenia and a weak heart. — ■
I can't make out anything. I met an awful old
woman with a beard. After her came a black
boy. An angry fool made a laughing-stock of
me, then a serf baroness, I mean No, I !
I {Shouts.) But explain it once for all !
Why, it's not like anything on earth. Did they
really tell me the truth in Petersburg ; have you
really gone mad ?
Master : You weren't afraid to visit a madman ?
Why are you afraid now ?
Friend : I — I'm not really afraid, but — Fve only
lost my bearings— I see that you're not mad, but
at the same time Come, don't torment me
any longer ! Enough ! Why, it's getting cruel.
I'm dog tired ! Come, explain things to me,
quickly.
Fool {enters) : Here's water ! Who wants water ?
{All but Friend and Fool laugh.)
Friend : Allow me to introduce you : my " God's
fool," from the next village.
Fool : I'm Johnny Cracken and Jenny Jolly.
Master : They call him Androgyne there, on
irrefutable grounds, that's to say, he's bisexual.
Friend : Lo — o — ord ! ! !
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 51
Master : And if I wanted to moralise upon every
possible occasion I should say at once that you
I contemporary young people, whose men are full
of effeminacy and women of masculinity, might
all be called hermaphrodites.
Friend : You say, *' You contemporary young
people,'' but what are you ?
Master : I ? My costume, my toilet, all my
appearance, don't they tell you in what epoch
IP I'm living ? And this furniture, this illumina-
tion, these people !
Friend : If I'm not mistaken — it's as they used to
live a hundred years ago.
Master : You're not mistaken.
Friend : Then — why are you — you — I don't know
why, but I'm afraid somehow, though it makes
me seem a coward. I don't understand, you
prefer this — obsolete way of life to our modern
Master : That's all.
Friend : But what's the reason ?
Companion {smiles) : It's a curious one.
Master : There are several.
Friend : Tell me just one !
Master {takes out an old book) : These old note-
books !
32 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
Friend : What are they ?
Master : The diary of my great-grandfather.
Friend : What an antiquity !
Master : It has enchanted me.
Friend : The antiquity ?
Master : I was enchanted by his old masterly way
of hfe, beautiful, merry ; d'you understand, it
enchanted me ? And to reproduce it even
approximately became my sacred dream.
Friend : You were always a dreamer.
Master : Look ! the dream has come true ! I live
where he lived, in the same apartments, with the
same habits. I took these girls — come nearer,
Grusha ! — these dear girls as slaves, and then
there's Egorich
Friend : What an extraordinary likeness to
Baroness Nordman !
Master : That poor woman died recently.
Friend : Really ? How sad ! She was a truly
advanced woman. The feminist movement lost
much by her death. Lord ! how fervently she
insisted upon equal rights with men !
Master : And how terribly her soul wished to
tremble before a man's strength ! Know this - —
she was a real woman. She sought her ravisher,
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 53
her oppressor, her master. She was decaying in
the atmosphere of equal rights, she was freezing
in the embraces of the manikin who nourished
her so much and so convincingly with the beauties
of free love. ^^^
Friend : What are you saying ? ! Where did you
get that from ? !
Master : Baroness Nordman, that very Baroness
Nordman who was tired of living satiated by the
advantages of civilization, who was ready for
anything to be saved from mortal ennui — she
died, and changed into my slave.
Friend : Into a slave ? ! ! You're raving !
Master : Grusha, kiss the gentleman's hand. {Maid
takes Friend's handy he tears it away.)
Friend : I don't understand why you're hoaxing
me.
Master {to Maid) : Be off ! {Exit Maid.) We're
not hoaxing you at all. {Turns to Companion.)
She's my slave, too, but more intimate.
Companion : I am very glad to meet you ; I have
heard so much of your services to learning.
Friend : Oh, really — thank you
Master : You think there are few women who are
stifled by the burden of their freedom ! And so
54 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
you don't want to admit that such women, from
aversion to your cultured Hfe, from love of the
unusual, and from love, of course, of me, are
able to become slaves ! I'll show you afterwards
the vows they've sworn.
Friend : Nothing could surprise me now.
Master : Why should it ?
Friend : What ? ! !
Master [reproachjully) : You only just said that
nothing could surprise you now. {All laugh.) But
do you recognise Egorich ? My good old servant ?
I don't remember if I told you that he and his
wife — she cooks for us here — took up a somewhat
original position in regard to a certain reform.
Friend : How ?
Master : They declared that this reform could not
affect such faithful servants as they, and despite
everything they went on living with us in the
old way. {Servant kisses his hand.) He is the
right hand of my estate here. And what a
hunter — it's simply amazing ! Did you ever hear
of hunting with alauntis, bandogs and bercelets ?
Friend : Whatever are they? ^' '
Master : There you are ! {To Servant.) Order
your old woman to cook something good for
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 55
supper ; and bring us at once a bottle of mead
and a plate of comfits.
Servant : Very good, sir. Shall I lay the table
in the dining-room or
Master : In the dining-room. {Exit Servant.) But
why are you standing up, dear old chap. Please
sit down.
Friend {sarcastically) : I didn't dare — you're so
majestic. {They sit down.)
Master {joking) : Never mind ! Be brave, be
brave !
Friend : So we're living now in eighteen hundred
and
Companion : In eighteen hundred and eight.
Master : That is when my great-grandfather was
just the age I am now, when he had retired from
his regiment and lived, as he said, " in the gentle
calm of my country paradise."
Friend {sarcastically) : So you, our matchless
economist, the pride of our society, shining, as
it were, like a star in the dark night of our social
life, you have gone back to the Dark Ages, to the
epoch of tyranny, to the time plusquamperfectum
only because the life of your great-grandfather
has exercised an irresistible influence over you ?
56 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
Master [seriously) : That was one of the reasons.
The seed fell on prepared soil. There had always
dwelt in me the despot side by side with the
liberal.
Friend : And they lived together.
Master : For a certain time.
Friend : That's interesting.
Master [to his Companion) : Tell him the tale, how
two dwelled in one soul.
Friend : Whose is this tale ?
Master : Mine. She learns my works by heart ;
she says she is ready to put them to music, to
illuminate them in colours, to mould their ideas
in clay, to write them out a thousand times in
golden ink. {Servant brings in a bottle of mead.)
Well, begin !
Companion {at the harp) : There, where is so much
filth and so much serene divinity, where often
the very demon builds a nest and where some-
times the seraphim fly, where is preserved so
much secrecy, potentiality, and marvellous power,
there, in one of these wondrous abodes built, as
they all are, for one, only for one — lived two.
One was — (Heavens ! how unpleasant to speak
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 57
of those you hate) — one was good, learned, dili-
gent. The other was — (how I adore him !) — the
other was evil, all-evil and unlearned and lazy.
They were crowded, of course, but — Fate did
not let them live apart. They wanted to develop,
but each was a huge hindrance to the other. And
the one that passed for learned and good and
diligent drugged the other with the potion of
science ; sat at his bedside and sang this lullaby :
*' Sleep, dear master : sleep, covering over your
eyes ! Your glorious age is past ! Sleep ; the
golden age is past ! Now we only mock your
noble mien. We need learning and work. The
polish of the grandee does not tempt us : the fair
ladies are ever less and less that count a well-
kept above a horny hand.'' — So sang he that
was learned and closed the beautiful eyelids of
him that was unlearned with irresistible sleep.
Only he did not reign long, not long did he
rule. It is hard to break a master's strength,
real strength, even with a drowsy poison. One !
and he suddenly awoke. — Two ! he stretched
agreeably. — Three ! and from laziness he had
already forgotten to think. " No," he cried, " it
shall not be as you wish ! I will hear no more
58 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
fables, brother ! It will be difficult to drug
me now. Well, come and let us measure our
strength. Enough ! We cannot live here to-
gether as we used to. Do you hear ! You
have diverted yourself enough, my beloved."
Thereupon he that was learned produced one
thousand five hundred arguments. He that was
ignorant overcame them at once by mere force
of will : he took his rival by the throat, gave him
a trifle with two fingers, cast him out of the doors
of the sanctuary and began to live alone, his
own master. That's all the story, but you may
think out the moral yourself, if the story pleased
you and you fully understood it.
Friend : H'm. — Well — it's very amusing. (Laughs.)
It's very amusing. The chief contributor to the
" Lever " writes stories like this ! No, it's so
amusing, so amusing that — ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.
Master {drinking a beaker of mead) : Very glad to
have cheered you up. But how nervy you are ;
you must be working a lot. Why precisely did
you come to see me ?
Friend : Well, in my sweet ignorance I presumed
that — I don't understand, didn't you get any of
my letters ?
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 59
Master : I don't want to have anything in com-
mon with the twentieth century. No one dares
bring letters to me. That's my command.
Friend : Wise command ! But I wrote to you,
and, at the editor's instructions, have even
journeyed here to ask, persuade, entreat you
even in God's name to write just a little
article for us. Really, jokes aside, doesn't your
conscience torture you ? The editor is simply
I besieged with letters, " Why doesn't he write ? "
— " Is it true that he doesn't contribute any
more ? " — ** Where are the articles you promised
by him ? " Listen ! Now, really, give up this
caprice ! Write just a few lines. The paper
will fall to -pieces without you — you know it
well.
Master : Please drink.
Friend : Come, answer me plainly. {Drinks a
goblet of mead.)
Master : Excellent ; I'll send you a few articles ;
only I don't know if they'll suit a paper with
Liberal tendencies. The first article is called,
** The Positive Values of Serfdom." The
second
Friend : You want to laugh again.
6o THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
Master : On the contrary, I want you to laugh.]
[Picking up a paper.) To tell the truth, a better
reply to your remark would be the following'
passage from " A New Catechism of French
Literature." Here it is. It's a question of paper-
soiling. Listen, what the use is of paper-soiling :
** The flourishing condition of paper manufac-
turers, printers, and booksellers, the diversion of
others, the nourishment of one's own spirit,
which almost unceasingly languishes with a
thirst for instruction and the acquirement of
glory." Of course, you'll say that what was
written in 1808, can have no significance to the
twentieth century, but I
Friend : You're not really interested in these old
things ?
Master : Old things ? A paper for September,
1808, to be called old ! {To Companion,) Well,
I never ! {To Friend,) Ah, if you only knew
how every novelty excites us, every event of
passing life ! Why, not long ago a meeting took
place between the Emperor Alexander and
Napoleon. Would you believe it, our hands
shook when we learned what was happening ?
Just listen. {Reads.) '* We speak of the meeting
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 6i
of these Monarchs first as of a splendid event
in history, of a meeting which, under all the
. circumstances, is bound to have the most far-
reaching consequences." — D'you hear ! — '' The
most far-reaching consequences/'
Friend {takes the paper and reads) : '* The Political,
fc Statistical, and Geographical *' Oh, the
devil !
Master : It's our favourite paper.
Friend : It's simply incredible. What did you
say — '* The Positive Values of Serfdom " ?
Master : Yes. {Pours him out mead.)
Friend : So you seriously advocate serfdom ?
Thanks, enough ; this stuff's very strong.
Master : So I seriously advocate serfdom ! {Pours
j§ out for Companion and self.) It's strong only for
the weak.
Friend : And you say this ?
Master : I am repenting — I had erred. You see,
I'm not a god.
Companion {with energy) : You are a god !
Master : Not in that sense. You ask for my
articles, but that part of me lost its beUef in
social ideals and died of sorrow. It gave up its
place to a despot !
62 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
Companion : To a beautiful despot !
Master : And this despot has the audacity to
affirm that most people are fools and rogues.
To give them the freedom of which you sing :
first, there's no reason for it ; and secondly, it's
harmful, because these gentlemen even in bonds
are sufficiently dangerous to each other, and in
their own interests, that is, in the interests of the
majority, their freedom is undesirable. And
as Liberals ought to conform in all things with
the interests of the majority, so {All laugh.)
Why, you value everything from the point of
view of justice and utility. Well, there you are :
from the point of view of justice — there's no
reason for it, and from the point of view of
utility — it's harmful.
Friend {laughs) : Excellent sophistry !
Master : All the more as I acknowledge as right
neither the point of view of justice nor the point
of view of utility. The point of view of beauty,
of pleasure — that's how I regard it.
Friend : But, my dear old chap, if
Master : Come, don't let's quarrel.
Friend : Is modern culture really so non-existent ?
Have you really turned your back on it ?
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 63
Master : Modern culture ! — H'm. Modern cul-
ture ! Gad, those damned words turn my hands
into fists ! I want to roar with rage, I — I want
to throw the chairs about. Have you not
noticed how this " modern culture,'' how it's
destroying beauty ? Can you really look on
calmly while it prefers the practicability of
speech to its imagery, the colourless costume to
the picturesque, while it destroy ceremonies,
I visits, low bows. In wondrous flowery glades it
builds black, smoky masses, leads handsome
1^ peasants there and changes their marvellous song
into a vicious catch ! — Besides, contrasts are
necessary for beauty ! Why, it's awful if
Friend : But, my dear fellow
Master : And you still want to say that you love
beauty in all things. Have shame ! The savage
has more aesthetic understanding. It's all over.
There will be none rich beyond words, none poor
P beyond words. Venal love, interested crimes,
P extravagant Yankee miUionaires, ravings about
gain, picturesque ragamuffins, all that which is
so interesting, and gives such beautiful variety
to our hfe, all is falling into dust, all, all ! — It's
interesting just to think what contemporary
64 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
subjects there will be for the artist. Even war,
even that beautiful calamity is swept away with
the " no " of modern culture. Oh, this *' modern
culture " ! You can't imagine a better nursery
of vulgarity. It is pitiless to all that is most
beautiful. Why, the picturesque little corners of
the globe, even they are spoiled with restaurants !
Believe me, there will come an hour when Ameri-
canism, that ideal incarnation of vulgarity, will
catch up in its paws the last poetical little spot of
our much-enduring planet and then
Friend : And then ?
Master : The death of art — the decadence of
decadence — the empire of the machine — the
grandiose factory, and before it an American, in
a humble pose and boots he cleans himself
Friend : H'm — the death of art. Therefore all
manifestations of culture should be annihilated,
eh ? We ought to look to the Vandals ? Have I
understood you properly ?
Master : My dear old fellow, in the matter of
knowledge of the truth, we people of the twentieth
century are not so very far from the Vandals, but
in the matter of destroying all that is most
beautiful, all that most adorns life, we have
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 65
surpassed the Vandals without doubt : beautiful
religion, omnipotent knowledge, pleasurable ethics,
we laugh at all these, make nothings of them
and — and our soul, frightened and sad, is ready
to throw us into acid, into the bed of corruption,
under the wheels of a locomotive, if only it could
stifle in itself the consciousness of this inex-
pressible horror. You understand how greatly
a man must suffer for whom God has ceased to
exist, but in whom the religious feeling remains,
who has lost a reason for fightings but in whom
both the strength and the desire to fight have
remained, who wants to possess the truth and
knows he is desiring to grasp the moon, who wants
to believe in the magical and the marvellous and
under whose nose science has swept all magic.
Friend : But
Master : I affirm that in man is placed the neces-
sity for horrors in a greater measure than the
necessity for deliverance from them. Oh, how
I want, how I need ghosts and slippery nymphs
and vampires with terrible red eyes. This has
been found to be vanity and driven away, but
at the same time life without it has become still
vainer.
66 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
Friend : I don't understand ; are you joking
or
Master : Woe to him whose aesthetic taste is too
refined ! Woe to him who, as I, looks into the
future with bated breath, who desires with all
his soul, but does not see there the superman.
Friend : I don't really understand what you're
looking for ! You want the restoration of the
long obsolete forms of life.
Master : My dear friend, although perhaps even
very highly respected people spread the report
of my madness, it's not really true. I'm not
striving for the alteration of social laws. You
can't alter the inevitable. But if I could only
1 fight for the beauty of olden life, if I could
only count upon the very smallest success, how
happy I should be, with what unweariedness, with
what ardour I should set to work ! But you
remember your evangelist said that the social
movement flows naturally from the historical
development of society, and, most unfortunately,
this is irrefutable. I could shout myself hoarse,
crying, '\Stop ! Whither bound? Go back!"
I could shout myself hoarse and not be heard.
Friend : It's amusing to listen to you.
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 67
Master : One must be a great philosopher to be
reconciled with actual reality. But I cannot
be reconciled ; Tm too proud, and to fight with
ft
it is out of the question. And I went away from
that reality, I went away, to lose my despair in
beautiful folly.
Friend : Permit me to remark upon this that to
say that something is beautiful does not mean to
say it is right, and I, in that case
Master : Better beautiful and wrong, than right
and ugly ; in both cases we're a thousand miles
away from final truth.
Friend : Yes, but if you judge in that way
Master : You understand, I was physically unable
to bear any longer the society of those advanced
fools. Lord, what a gang ! They poisoned the
whole air. If I weren't sorry for the trees, I'd
hang 'em all with my own hands ; I'd drown
'em all in the sea, if I didn't love the sea, I — I'd
shove them all over a precipice, if only there were
a precipice they wouldn't overfill ! Write for
them ? Write for that mercantile riffraff ? !
Friend : But what are you occupied with here ?
What do you do, cut off from all the world ?
Master : We're busy with salting, boiling, pickling,
68 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
drying and soaking. We simply don't see time
pass : hunting, looking after the estate ; just look
how many books weVe got, let alone papers !
Companion : And did you see the tall tower on our
house ? WeVe got a telescope and we look at
the skies for hours. And then riding and walking ?
Master : If only you saw our wonderful marsh,
behind the village cemetery. Not only we walk
there in the dark midnights — little green fires,
sweetly-sad as we, without direction and with-
out purpose, move about us and wave
Companion : We're almost the whole day in the
fresh air.
Master : How strong I've got ! What muscles,
why {To Companion,) Bring a horseshoe
or a poker and a pack of cards. {Exit Com-
panion.) What do I do ? There ! read his diary.
Friend {reads) : '' Diary of daily events."
Master : Find to-day's date !
Friend : Yes, and then !
Master : Read more or less what I was occupied
with to-day. {Pours him out mead.)
Friend {reads) : ''In the morning I went hunting
with tolerable success, the reason of which was
doubly sad thoughts about Anna "
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 69
Master : That was his aunt.
Friend : ** Still God is good. I wrote to my friend
in town to send me another doctor. In the day
I personally superintended the arrangement of
the bath-house for the winter. Tarass was to
dinner.''
Master : A neighbour.
Friend : " We were much diverted with an anec-
dote made upon an oracle. My aunt felt herself
so much improved at evening, that she was even
desirous to be present at a comic performance
of the house-servants, and they, rejoiced at her
graciousness, did not spare their efforts to amuse
and divert her at discretion."
Master : And this morning I, too, went hunting,
in the daytime I superintended the dismantling
of the bath-house, and this evening we, too, shall
have a comic performance. {Calls.) Grusha !
Grusha !
Friend : H'm. {Bitterly.) It's all right for you
to live like this — you've got so much money.
Master (smo^/s/y) : Yes, it is. I'm not complaining.
Friend : Pah ! Well, I'm damned ! Your frank-
ness is very near cynicism. But are you really
satisfied with such a life ? {Drinks.)
70 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
Master : Agree that it's more beautiful than yours.
Friend : But the reason for it
Master : You madden me. What reason ? Can
you still keep on hugging that '* reason '' ? What !
hasn't the senselessness of existence stared you in
the face yet ? You haven't yet shrunk with
horror at its look ? Wait, wait ! I had too high
an opinion of you. The hour will come when it'll
happen. The hour will come when the demon of
vengeance will awake in you, the terrible demon
of vengeance, and when you will want to seize
the globe like a stone from the street of the
world and throw it with all your force at the
great Policeman. {Enter Maid.)
Friend : Lord, what a passion !
Master : A pipe. [Exit Maid.)
Friend : And you've become a phrase-maker, dear
old chap. I hope you're not offended at my
frankness, because
Master : Come, can we be anything else ? It's
time at last to recognise that even the cleverest
of us, the most talented, the most learned, is no
more than a posing phrase-maker. Aren't we
all bewitched in a circle of error ; aren't all our
reasonings the chatter of children ?
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 71
Friend : But you're not going to deny that the
love of truth which Hes in us
Master : But the love of beauty and the love of
pleasure lie in us too. My dear chap, you busy
yourself with science and I with hunting, but
, which is the more important is not for us to
decide. I have lost the measure of importance
and, thank God ! I can do whatever comes into
my mind without pangs of conscience. You
understand, we've wasted what is most valuable
of our heritage from our ancestors : credible
knowledge and sound ethics. Ah ! these lovely
sisters, these attentive slaves we've gambled
away for that old rake, Scepticism ! — But they
have left us, with other old stuff, their gar-
ments, their grand motley garments, so-called
'' phrases " and " poses." Yes, my friend, it's
sad, but it's so : there are only phrases and
poses left to us. But still, it's good that there's
something left : we can divert ourselves with
m these beautiful rags and remember those who
were clad in them, whom they made so charming.
To confound you with the charm of the expres-
sion, I say, *' Let not these rags lie unused in the
w: wardrobe of our affliction ! "
72 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
Friend : Bravo, bravo !
Master : There are left to us only phrases and
poses ! Well ! Let's love them as dear toys are
loved. {Maid brings him a pipe.) You smile,
but (Smokes.) Jokes aside, without meta-
phors, what is there left credible to us beyond
self-perception ? {To Maid.) Stop ! {To Friend.)
'' Do I think it's dull ? " *' Well, " '' Should
I like to see a lovely body dance among sharp^
swords ? " ''I should." There's an example of!
credibility ! Let my desires be absurd, I like
them because they are credible for me. Begad,
just something there's no doubt about ! {To
Maid.) I want to see the '' Dance on the Wrathful
Road." Go away, undress and exhibit your art!
Maid {looking at Friend) : But {Master turns
to her.) Very well, sir. {Exit.)
Friend : By Jove, I seem to be asleep again, but
this time — I don't want to wake up. Your mead
is incredibly strong. And it seemed to me that
portrait smiled. Who is it ?
Master : My grandfather.
Friend : I thought it was you. {Companion puts
poker and cards on the table.)
Master : I am such as he was — I'm made of the
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 73
same dough ; my soul is as masterly as his was.
Tm not inferior to him, inferior in no way
to him, but still Oh ! [Points to Com-
panion.) Ask her how often I stand before this
portrait and gnash my teeth with envy, and even
weep. {Picks up the poker and bends it,) Tell me,
how have I offended fate ? Why am I deprived
of the powers and rights and all that importance
which he had ? And if it had to be so, was it
really necessary to leave me with a soul like his ?
Why didn't they tear out of my heart all love
of power, all masterly pride, all blue-blooded
caprice ? {Enter Servant,)
Companion : What do you want ?
Servant : When do you order supper ?
Master : In an hour. Tell the Arab boy to be
quick ! Take up the carpet ! Why is he so long
with the swords ? And the fool ? Has he gone
to sleep ? Wake him and tell him to bring the
tambourines. Then light the chandeliers. And
don't forget to burn perfumes !
Servant : Very well, sir. {Exit.)
Friend : All the same Fm sure that if you'd lived
in that time, you'd have taken a most ardent
part in the movement for emancipation.
74 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
Master : Quite possibly. Satiated with power,
stung to the quick by the French, thirsting for
popularity, taken with the difficulties of the
problem — Begad, it's so seductive to be a pioneer.
{Picks lip cards.) Still, I think I should have
been a reactionary. I don't know what would
have been, and, what is, oh ! better I didn't !
{Tears the pack of cards in halj, Arab boy arranges
swords jor the dance)
Companion : Ah ! here's the black boy.
Master {smiles) : Young sulks !
Friend : What do you keep him for ?
Master : Isn't he interesting ?
Companion : In his eyes there is so much longing
for the sultry sun and the sweet palms, that
beside it our sorrows seem pale and unsub-
stantial.
Friend : Excellent !
Master (^o Companion) : Play us something.
Companion {to Friend) : But you like music ?
Master : He adores it. {To Friend.) Would you
like to hear Mozart on the clavichord ?
Friend : Perhaps the andante from the C sharp ?
Master : I agree. {Goes to the fire and throws away
the halves of the torn cards.)
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT 75
Friend : Listen. For the last time I ask you to
come back to us. I can't believe that you could
K seriously — Lord ! how my head's turning from
the mead and everything !
Master {coolly) : He who is free from too firm
convictions, who has passed through the school
of the new Sakya-Muni and the new Zara-
thustra, who is far too clever to be ashamed to
talk nonsense, who so resembles an Olympian
that he is strong enough even to laugh at others'
misfortunes — tell me on your conscience, what
should such a man do among wretched, grey,
blue-eyed neurasthenics, people who to-day or
to-morrow will become Americans !
Friend : H'm. — Certainly, on those conditions —
H'm — you know, it seems to me, the dramatic
upshot of your working life would not be so
terrible if you actually did go mad.
Master : You think so ?
Friend : And know this, whether you'll be angry
with me or not, all the same I'll tell everybody
at Petersburg that you're mad !
Master : What for ?
Friend : What for ? Can I explain all this to
them, are they capable of allowing for No,
76 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
it's impossible. Well, what shall I tell them
what shall I tell them ?
Master : Tell them I'm fastidious — after that it's
just routine ! Say that I don't want their life !
Be it full of all possible happiness, but — life is
a little twig of lilac seized in the hand in the
search for happiness, many-leaved happiness.
Their life is ugly, withered, confused, soiled — in
short, it's the life of the mob, though perhaps great
happiness is hidden in it. My life is the twig of
lilac which no one yet has touched, in which no
one till me has yet sought his happiness
Friend : You want them to think I'm laughing at
them.
Master : And don't they deserve to be laughed at ?
Companion [sitting at clavichord) : May I begin ?
Master : Please ! [Companion flays the andante
cantabile from Mozart's sonata in C sharp. Friend
listens enraptured. Master stands by the hearth,
smiling sadly. After the first few bars of the third
part of the andante.)
Friend [as if raving) : Lord ! Oh, my God ! I'm
asleep — I know it — I'm asleep and can't wake
up ! Divine Mozart ! You died not long ago !
Oh, my head ! What's wrong with my heart ;
THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT yy
why are there tears in my eyes ? — Divine Mozart !
What was far becomes near — very near. (To
Master) I know the worth of your words — they
were all vain — vain — a game, a leap-frog of
paradoxes, a dazzling firework of crackling
phrases ! I know you're wrong, I know that well,
but — my dear fellow — I — I feel for the moment
as if you were right. D'you hear — I feel I under-
stand it within my mind and — Fm ashamed, Fm
absurdly ashamed to be in this grey, this shiny
jacket. — Oh, my head ! — It's burning, it's drugged
with the floweriness of your words, the theatrical-
ness of your poses — it's drunk with the look of
this room. Your pathos is contagious ! I've
become like you ! I've made myself a faithful
mirror. What herbs, what resins are you burn-
ing ? Flight ! I want to flee from here ! The
seduction is too great ; my soul has become too
yielding. I don't want to be infected, I don't
want to die, and a life like yours is the beginning
of death. You've heard how men that are being
hanged or drowning or freezing see magic dreams
as they die. This sort of life is such a dream ;
this sort of life is the beginning of death. You
have separated from us, from all society, from
78 THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT
real life, and an early death is inevitable for
you ! — It's all the same, whether she comes as
madness or in her usual guise — it's inevitable, I
tell you. This strong mead has heated my head ;
who knows, perhaps it has made me a prophet. —
An early death is inevitable for you ! D'you
hear, inevitable !
Master : Amen.
Friend : If you permit, I shall sleep here to-night ;
I'm too tired, but early to-morrow morning, at
sunrise, give me horses, the quickest you have.
{A pause. Companion finishes the andante.
Master kisses her.)
Master {passionately) : Hey ! Begin ! Androgyne,
where are you ? Quick ! {To Companion.) Play !
I hke that " Dance of the Wrathful Road." It's
the path of our life. Oh, don't joke ! even we
can be serious ! It's the path of our life with
its fatal dangers ! One must be very clever not
to suffer on this wrathful road. Play, girl !
Grusha, dance ! Begin ! {Companion begins
Bach's bourree in E sharp. Fool and Arab laugh
merrily. Enter Maid and begins to dance.)
(Curtain)
; THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR
By DENIS VON VIZIN
CHARACTERS
Count and Countess Weakhead
Wisely Flatternot
The Young Count Nurses
Countess Folliest Pelican
Servant
THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR
Scene I
Countess Weakhead [looking at the time) : It has
only just struck eight. Why have you risen so
early, Count ?
Count : In the country it is a good thing to get up
a little early.
Countess : Yes, but not for a count. Your highness
ought to live like a count ; we do not have to
manage our affairs ; thank God, we own three
thousand souls, and it will last our time ; and
then I am not educated to look after things.
Count : True, Countess ; and I do not know any-
one of your father *s line who would be able to
manage affairs. The line of Whirligigs is noble,
I agree ; but not one Whirligig can manage
affairs.
Countess : Certainly ; I, although not a countess
in my own right, am, however, of a good family
G 8i
82 THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR
of nobles, and I think that my Une does no dis-
credit to the Hne of the Counts Weakhead.
Count : Countess, friend, I rose early to-day
because I am concerned for the education of our
Count Basil. Everyone tells me that he should
now have a tutor : where will you find one here
in the country ?
Countess : It seems to me, it would not be a bad
thing to discuss it with our marshal. Although
he is not verj^ nice to ladies, yet for Count Basil's
sake I am ready to speak to him ; I only fear
that he will give our son as instructor such a
J bear as himself. I mortally dislike serious
faces
Count : I doubt w^hether Mr. Wisely be capable to
choose an instructor for the son of Count Weak-
head and his countess, born a Whirligig.
Countess : However that may be, I have already
sent for him. I think that our Mr. Wisely will not
be too proud to visit Count Weakhead. There,
he has come already.
Wisely {enters) : You were pleased to send for me,
and I supposed that you perhaps called me on
urgent business, and did not delay to come to
you.
THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR 83
Countess : I beg you to take a seat and converse
with us about a very important matter.
Wisely {sitting) : What can I do ?
Count : We have a son of ten years ; we wish to
give him a tutor. You are our marshal ; be so
kind, advise us.
Wisely : The matter is important, certainly, as it
concerns the education and consequently the
well-being of a young noble ; but it is not such
an affair that I need to have come to you.
Count : I feel that it was my duty to go to you
myself, but my countess inconsiderately and
without asking me sent for you ; excuse the
impatience of a countess.
Wisely : I am not at all offended ; on the con-
trary, I am pleased that you would have come to
me on this business. By my position I know all
our nobles. Recently I made the acquaintance
of a gentleman who not long ago bought a small
village in our district — a Major Flatternot. If
he were to consent to educate your son, would
you be pleased ?
Count {after a pause) : Countess, speak !
Countess : A Russian tutor ! I do not like that
very much.
84 THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR
Count : Does he know French ?
J Wisely : Better than many of those Frenchmen
whom you would be glad to receive in your
house.
Count : What is his character ?
Wisely : His name is Flatternot, and he is quite
worthy of that name.
Countess [sotto voce) : A rude fellow, I am sure.
Wisely : Is it really to be rude not to flatter ?
Countess : Almost.
Wisely : Allow me to assure you that from the
person I recommend as instructor for your son
you will have neither rudeness nor flattery.
Count : We, on our side, will neglect nothing to
show him our respect, and will always call him
*' Your Honour.''
Wisely : That is, you expect him every minute to
call you '' Your Highness."
Countess : It seems to me that everyone should
be given his proper title.
Wisely: But you consent to call him '' Your
Honour '' for another reason.
Count : Which ?
Wisely : So that all should know that j^our son's
tutor is a major.
I
THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR 85
Countess : And is that a great thing ? My son is
a count, and it seems to me that the major is not
humbhng himself to undertake his education.
Wisely : Mr. Flatternot certainly will not con-
sider it a particular honour to be tutor to your
son ; and if he does consent to undertake this
fc position, it will be certainty only in order to be
useful to a brother nobleman.
Countess : I think, however, that rank is merit. ^
Wisely : The least of all human merits. To be
born a count is not difficult, and one may by
right of rank be called *' Highness '' without
^^ having high qualities, such as zealousness to be
useful to one's country. You, your highness !
how have you served the country ?
Count : I was a subaltern in the Guards, with a
captain's grade on retirement.
Wisely : Do not you yourself show the vanity of
your rank as count ? I wager that your son, if
he is taught by Mr. Flatternot, will have quite
1 another sort of ideas, and will be worthy of the
honour which the path of nature opens to him.
Count : I was unlucky in my service. I could not
reach major, and am now obliged to nag about
the country.
86 THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR
Countess {sotto voce) : This man is irritating me !
If Mr. Flatternot reached major, I think he will
teach my son to reach the same.
Wisely : Have no doubt of that ; he will teach
your son to receive promotion in the service of his
country, and not by bowing in great gentlemen's
antechambers.
Countess : Maid ! Call Count Basil here.
Maid : He is not pleased to come.
Count : Ask him from us. [Enter the young Count
and nurses.)
Nurse : Come here, Count dear.
Second Nurse : Please come here, your highness !
Third Nusre : Your hand, please, your highness !
Young Count [running up to her and giving his
hand) : There, kiss it.
Countess : Count Basil, friend, embrace me.
Young Count [holding out his hand to her) : There,
mother. [Holding out his hand to Wisely.) There.
Wisely : I, friend, do not intend to kiss your paw ;
give it to the Count, your father.
Count : And I don't want to.
Young Count : Why ? You kissed it yesterday,
father.
Count : Shame before a strange person.
THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR 87
Countess : Shame to love one's son ?
Wisely : Shame to spoil one's son.
Countess : You see, sir, that we are educating our
son as seems proper.
Wisely : I see only that you are driving ever-
lastingly '' Your Highness " into his head.
Countess : And it is proper to call him what he is.
Wisely : He is a child.
Countess : And of what line ?
Wisely : A Weakhead.
Countess : I hope that he has much of his father's
blood in him.
Wisely : That is, the Weakheads'.
Countess : And of his mother's ? {The young Count
turns away.)
Wisely : There, that is your line, the Whirligigs.
Countess : Count Basil is very lovable, is he
not ?
, Wisely : I do not know if he is lovable, but I see
P that he is much loved by you.
Count : I am curious to be acquainted with Mr.
Flatternot. When could that be ?
Wisely : Now, if you wish.
Countess : You would much oblige us.
Wisely {going out) : I will drive to him at once.
88 THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR
Count : I think the marshal will soon bring us Mr.
Flatternot.
Countess : I can imagine no good from it, and, to
t be sure, I should be furious with regret to hand
N over Count Basil to the hands of a Russian lout,
like Flatternot.
Count : It will be in our will to take Flatternot or
reject him.
Countess : Count, friend, let us go to our apart-
ments, that our expected guests should await us
half an hour and see that they have come to your
highness.
Count : For Heaven's sake, don't advise me that,
if you do not wish to be a widow quickly.
Countess : But why ?
Count : Mr. Flatternot, as I see it, is a man of
merit, and certainly, being a major, does not wish
to wait in a captain's anteroom ; he will get
furious and cut me up.
Countess : He dares not do this before the marshal.
, Count : Well, you see, madame, that to-day rank
\ alone is not much respected, and people w^ho
value it highly are thought fools ; and is Flatter-
not likely to contain himself for the marshal when
THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR 89
Mr. Wisely said to me himself, '' There's no pray-
ing for fools ? '^
Countess : I cherish the hope that we shall get
through without Flatternot. I received a letter
to-day from Countess Folliest. She recommends
me a French tutor, a Mr. Pelican, and we shall
engage him.
Count : But first we'll have a look at Flatternot.
Countess : Maybe ; I consent.
Servant (entering) : Your highness, the marshal
has come with a strange gentleman.
Count: I'll go to meet him; but you. Countess,
receive them here.
Scene II
Count : Countess, this is Mr. Flatternot. Mr.
Flatternot, my wife.
Flatternot {kissing Countess s hand) : I recom-
Pl mend myself to your highnesses' favour as a
neighbour and nobleman of these parts.
Count : I beg you to be seated. Our respected
marshal, no doubt, has already told you of our
desire, just as we heard from him of your pro-
posal to take charge of a young nobleman ?
90 THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR
Flatternot : He has informed me of everything ;
but beforehand I ought to hear from you your-
selves what education you intend to give your
son : what you wish to teach him, and to pre-
pare him for which service ?
Count : I wished to hear of this from you.
Flatternot : I should think to educate his mind
as is fitting for a nobleman.
Countess : Of the rank of count !
Flatternot : I do not understand ; what differ-
ence do you find between the rank of nobleman
and count ?
Countess : I find, sir, this difference, that a count
should be more careful than a nobleman that no
one is lacking in respect of him.
Count : A count should be more delicate than a
nobleman on the point of his honour. . . .
{A page is missing here in the original manuscript.)
Countess : But I thought that nature and rank
were the same thing.
Wisely : You hear, madame, that a natural count
may be also a natural fool.
Countess : And so Mr. Flatternot is not pleased
that our son should know he is a count, and does
not wish to give him the title of ** Highness."
THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR 91
Flatternot : I would not take upon myself the
sin — do not be angry with me — to turn a little
boy's head, like your son's, with fancies about his
countship, highness, and similar folly ; but I shall
strive hard to set into his head and heart that he,
being of noble birth, should possess, also, a noble
mind.
Countess : And that is not a bad thing. But what
are you thinking about, Count ?
Count : I am thinking of what I hear, and can
think about nothing ; I know it's dinner-time, and
I beg you, marshal, and you, sir, to dine with me.
Flatternot : At your service.
Servant : Dinner is served.
Count : Come.
Scene HI
Countess {alone) : Thank Heaven that dinner is
over ! I have come here to rest from the con-
versation of the marshal and Flatternot ; Heaven
protect us from such fault-finders ! At dinner I
received a letter from Countess FoUiest ; I did
not manage to read it ; now I'll r6ad it at my
leisure. (Reads.) *' Dear Countess, — If you
wish, you can take Mr. PeHcan now as tutor for
92 THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR
Count Basil. The Frenchman is full of abilities ;
he draws teeth expertly and cuts corns." Oh,
what luck ! He can cut corns too, and I so want
some one ! '' He will take a moderate salary,
and will call you. Countess, as well as the Count :
votre altesse ! " {Enter Count.)
Countess : Oh, my dear Count ! Countess Folliest
is doing us a great favour ; she has found a tutor
for Count Basil who can also draw teeth and cut
corns ; and, what is most important, he will call
us : votre altesse !
Count : What could be better ? [Enter Wisely and
Flatternot.)
Count : What would you wish to teach my son ?
Flatternot : First of all, the principles of the
faith in which he was born.
Countess : And dancing ?
Flatternot : You are pleased to joke.
Count : And what foreign languages ?
Flatternot : I begin with Latin.
Countess : But is he to be a priest ?
Flatternot : But is Latin only fit for priests ?
Count : I do not know why a count's son should
learn Latin.
THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR 93
Flatternot : Because it is the root of many
languages.
Countess : Well, I never.
Count {to her) : Do not forget to send an answer
quickly to Countess Folliest.
Countess : At once. We will come back at once.
Excuse us that we have to send off a postilion to
our neighbour.
Flatternot : At your service. {Exeunt Cotmt and
Countess.)
Wisely : Do you find the Count's household as I
described it to you ?
Flatternot : Exactly. But it seems to me I am
already beginning to be a burden to them.
Wisely : Yes, and they do not seem to be' very
contented with me. {To Servant.) Have my
carriage got ready, friend. {To Flatternot.) We
can go away at once.
Countess {entering, to Count) : I have invited the
Countess herself with Pelican ; maybe Count
Basil will have a tutor after our heart.
Count {aloud) : Here we are, gentlemen. We have
I hurried back to enjoy your conversation.
Flatternot : A great honour.
94 THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR
Countess : I wanted to ask you, Mr. Wisely, do
you think it would be good to send our son to
France in ten years' time ?
Wisely : You are looking far ahead, madame. We
do not know whether in ten years' time there
will be anyone to send or anyone to send
him to.
Flatternot : And I say in addition that we cannot
foresee whether in ten years' time France itself
will exist if the French gentlemen do not soon
cease their runnings about.
Wisely : There is what a kingdom has come to,
which all Europe for so many years has wished to
imitate in everything. When I read descriptions
of the ruinous condition of France, I should like
to know against which political rule the French
aim in establishing equality of condition.
Count : I do not understand it.
Wisely {to Flatternot) : I have not happened to
speak with you of this ; I should like to know
your opinion of it.
Flatternot : I do not undertake at all to decide
your question ; but I am ready to offer my
opinion for your judgment. Here it is : nowhere
and neverlhave been^or can be such laws as would
THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR 95
make every individual man happy. It is indis-
pensably necessary that one part of the subjects
should sacrifice something for the sake of the
whole kingdom ; consequently there cannot be
equality of position. That is the invention of
the lying philosophers who by their eloquent
intellectualisms have led the French to their
present situation. They, desiring to avert the
abuse of power, are endeavouring to destroy the
form of government by which France has at-
tained all her glory. For all this, however much
the attempt may and will cost them, they will
never attain an equality of situation, whatever
laws they make ; for one part of the subjects will
always require the sacrifice of another. That is
what I think of the present French legislation.
Wisely : But if there cannot be laws to make
every individual man happy, then what sort of
legislation is left ?
Flatternot : It remains to calculate that the
number of sacrifices should be proportionate to
the number of those for whose happiness sacrifices
are made.
Wisely : So a legislator ought to be a great
calculator.
96 THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR
Flatternot : But these political calculations de-
mand a far more excellent mind than is wanted
for mathematical calculations. You can value
a hundred Eulers for one Colbert and a thousand
Colberts for one Montesquieu.
Wisely : But why ?
Flatternot : Because in mathematics from one
certainty one goes on to another mechanically, so
to speak, and the mathematician has before him
all the discoveries of his predecessors ; he needs
to have only patience and ability to use them ;
but previous discoveries do not lead the politician
on the right path. The mathematician reckons
with figures, the politician with passions ; in a
word, the political sense is and ought to be
incomparably higher and is much more rarely
met with than the mathematical.
Wisely : Oh, how blessed is that land where
such a rare political sense sits upon the
throne !
Flatternot : And how happy those who are
citizens of such a land ! {To the Count.) Of
what are you thinking. Count ?
Count : I do not understand anything of what you
both were talking about.
THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR 97
Wisely : And have you heard that there are now
no counts in France ?
Countess : That is almost incredible ; I did hear
something, but I could not believe it.
Wisely : Do you really not understand the French
troubles ?
Count : I believe that they are great if they put
counts on the same level as other people.
Flatternot : When your son goes to France, he
will not be a count.
Countess : Then I shall not send him there — not
for anything !
Servant [enters] : Countess Folliest has been pleased
to come, with a stranger.
Countess : I go to meet the benefactress of our
house. {Countess Folliest enters.)
Both Countesses : Your highness !
Countess Folliest : I present Mr. PeHcan to you.
Pelican {grimacing) : Votre altesse !
Countess Folliest : Here is a tutor for your son,
dear Countess.
Pelican {grimacing) : Votre altesse !
Wisely : I know that ugly face.
Pelican {sees Wisely and runs away, shrieking) : I
don't want be here^ I don't !
H
98 THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR
Countess Folliest : What has happened to hir
Wisely: I will solve the riddle for you. Th|
empty-headed Frenchman was a nurse's assista^
in an almshouse in France ; he can draw teetf
and cut corns — nothing else. He came to Russia,
and I found him in another neighbourhood, where
I have an estate, among the teachers of young
noblemen. I considered it my duty to inform i
the Governor of this, and he, thinking such vaga-
bonds harmful to the country, cleared him out
on my representation, and therefore, when he
saw me here, he ran away, fearing evidently that
I shall clear him out by the neck again. How-
ever that may be, I shall see the Governor to-
morrow and endeavour to remove him from our
district in twenty- four hours.
Countess : Marshal, moderate your strictness at
our request.
Wisely : Countess, you are free to follow or not
follow my advice as to the education of your son
by the person I have introduced to you; but I,
as marshal of the nobility, cannot endure that
such a rascal should be in our midst to corrupt
the hearts and heads of young noblemen.
Countess [to herself) : If J had thought, by sending
THE CHOICE OF A TUTOR 99
for the marshal to find an instructor for our son,
we would lose through him a competent tutor
who would come into the room and give us our
due at once by calling me and my husband, votre
altesse !
Countess Folliest : Why is the marshal at your
house ?
Flatternot : I came here on the invitation of the
marshal, who is zealous for the advantage of
noblemen ; but now I shall not consent for any-
thing in the world to be the instructor of a boy
whose parents are infected entirely by fancies
about rank.
Wisely [to Count and Countess) : Your humble
servant ! In advance, do not expect me again.
Count : As you wish.
Countess : Countess, let us go to our apartments.
[Exeunt Count and Countesses.)
Flatternot : Queer people ! Tell me, what guides
their thoughts and deeds ?
Wisely : What guides them ? Silly pride.
(Curtain)
THE WEDDING
By ANTON CH^HOV
CHARACTERS
Aplombov Dashenka
JiGALOv Mrs. Jigalov
Miss Zmewkin Yat
DiMBA MOZGOVY
Captain Revunov-KarayiJlov
M.C. Newnin
Guests Waiters
THE WEDDING
{A brightly lit room, with a big table laid for supper.
Around the table bustle waiters in frock-coats. The
last figure of a quadrille can be heard. Enter Miss
Zmewkin — accoucheuse, thirty years old, in a bright
scarlet dress — Mr, Yat, and the Master of Cere-
monies, They pass across the stage.)
Zmewkin : No ! No ! No !
Yat {following) : Be merciful ! Be merciful !
Zmewkin : No ! No ! No !
Master of Ceremonies {hurrying after them) :
Please, you mustn't, you mustn't ! Where are
you going ? But the grand-chain, silvooplay.
{Exeunt. Enter Mrs. N astasia Jigalov, mother of
the bride, and Aplombov, the bridegroom.)
Nastasia : Instead of worrying me with all your
talk, you'd do better to go and dance !
Aplombov : I'm not Spinosa anyhow, to make
cracknels of my legs. I'm a man of position and
103
104 THE WEDDING
character, and I don't find any distraction in
empty pleasures. But this has nothing to do with
dancing. Excuse me, Mama, but I don't under-
stand a lot of your behaviour. For instance,
besides all the things for the house, you promised
to give me your two lottery-tickets with your
daughter. Where are they ?
Nastasia : How my head aches ! — If this weather
keeps on, there ought to be a thaw.
Aplombov : You won't wear my teeth out with
talking ! I found out to-day that your tickets
were pledged at the bank. Excuse me. Mama,
but only exploiters behave like that. Now, I'm
not speaking from selfishness — I don't want your
tickets ! — but from principle ; I don't let any-
body deceive me. I've made your daughter
happy, and, if you don't hand me over those
tickets to-day, I'll eat your daughter with
pudding ! I'm a man of noble feelings.
Nastasia {looking at the table and counting the
places) : One, two, three, four, five
Servant : The cook wants to know how you order
the ices to be served, with rum, with madeira,
or without anything.
Aplombov : With rum. And tell the proprietor
THE WEDDING 105
there's only a little wine. Tell him to send up
some Haut-Sauterne. (To N astasia.) And you
promised and we agreed that a general would be
at the supper to-night. Where is he, I should like
to know.
Nastasia : It's not my fault, my dear !
Aplombov : Whose, then ?
Nastasia : Andrew's fault. Yesterday he was
here and promised to bring a real general. (Sighs.)
He can't have found one or he'd have brought
him. You don't think we begrudge the expense ?
We grudge our children nothing. But, after all,
what's a general !
Aplombov : Well again, surely you knew. Mama,
that this telegraph fellow, Yat, was running after
Dashenka until I proposed to her ? Why did
you invite him ? Didn't you really know that
he's an enemy of mine ?
Nastasia : Oh, Epaminondas, what's the matter
,j with you ? The wedding-day isn't over yet and
it already you're tiring me and Dashenka to death
f. with your talking. What will it be like as time
goes on ? You're wearisome, wearisome.
Aplombov : It isn't nice to hear the truth ? Ha,
ha. There you are. But act nobly ! Only one
io6 THE WEDDING
thing I ask of you — be noble ! {Through the room,
from one door to the other couples pass, dancing the
grand-chain. The first couple is Dashenka and the
Master of Ceremonies, behind them Yat and Z mew-
kin. They stop dancing and stay in the room.
Enter Jigalov and Dimba, and go to the table,)
Master of Ceremonies : Promenade ! Messieurs,
promenade ! {Off.) Promenade ! {Exeunt the
couples,)
Yat : Be merciful ! Be merciful, enchanting Miss
Zmewkin !
Zmewkin : Oh ! what a man you are ! Tve told
you already I'm not in voice.
Yat : I entreat you, sing ! Only one note ! Be
merciful ! Only one note !
Zmewkin : I'm tired. {Sits down and fans her-
self)
Yat : No, you're simply pitiless ! Such an in-
human creature, permit me to use the expression,
and such a wonderful, wonderful voice. With a
voice like that, excuse the expression, you ought
not to be an accoucheuse, but singing at public
concerts. For instance, how divinely the trills
emerge from you in that one {sings) : "I loved
you, my love is yet in vain." — Wonderful !
THE WEDDING 107
Zmewkin (sings) : ''I loved you, perhaps I still
may love/' — That one ?
Yat : That's the one ! Wonderful !
Zmewkin : No, I'm not in voice to-day. Take my
fan, fan me ; it's so hot. {To Aplombov.) Why
are you so melancholy ? Can a bridegroom really
be like that ? Aren't you ashamed, you con-
trary man ? What are you thinking about ?
Aplombov : Marriage is a serious step. You
have to consider everything from all points of
view
Zmewkin : How contrary you all are ! What
sceptics ! Beside you I feel stifled ! Give me
atmosphere ! Do you hear ? Give me atmo-
sphere ! (Sings,)
Yat : Wonderful. Wonderful !
Zmewkin : Fan me, fan me ! I feel my heart is
just going to break. Tell me, please ; why do
I feel so hot ?
Yat : Because you perspire.
Zmewkin : Pfui ! What a vulgar creature you are !
Don't dare speak to me like that !
Yat : I beg your pardon. You have been used, I
know, to, excuse the expression, aristocratic
company, and
lo8 THE WEDDING
Zmewkin : Oh ! let me be ! Give me poetry,
ecstasy ! Fan me ! Fan me !
JiGALOV {to Dimha) : We'll have another, eh ? I
can drink any time. The chief thing, Dimba,
is not to forget one's affairs. Drink, and under-
stand your affairs ! And as for drinking, why
not drink ? Drinking's allowed ; your health !
{Drinks.) Tell me, have you got tigers in Greece ?
DiMBA : Yes.
JiGALOV : And lions ?
Dimba : Yes, lions too. In Russia there is
nothing, but in Greece everything. My father's
there and my uncle and my brothers, and here
nothing.
JiGALOV : But have you got whales in Greece ?
Dimba : We've everything there.
Nastasia {to her husband) : Why all this random
drinking and eating ? It's time we all sat down.
Don't stick a fork in the lobster ! It's for the
general. Perhaps he'll come after all.
JiGALOV : Have you got lobsters in Greece ?
Dimba : Yes, we've everything there.
Zmewkin : I'm just thinking — what atmosphere in
Greece !
JiGALOV : And probably a lot of trickery. Greeks
THE WEDDING 109
are all just the same as Armenians and gypsies.
They'll give you a sponge or a goldfish, but all
the time they're watching their chance to relieve
you of your superfluities. We'll have another,
eh?
Nastasia : What are all these anothers ? It's
time we all sat down. It's twelve o'clock.
JiGALOV : Sit down, then, sit down ! {Calls,)
Ladies and gentlemen, I humbly entreat you.
Please. Supper ! Young people !
Nastasia : Welcome, dear guests. Be seated.
Zmewkin {sits at the table) : Give me poetry ! '' But
ah ! the rebel, sought the storm, as in the storm
were peace." Give me storm !
Yat {aside) : Remarkable woman ! I'm in love —
up to the ears in love ! {Enter the company. They
take their seats noisily at the table ; a minute's
pause, the band plays a march.)
MozGOVY {in the uniform of a naval volunteer,
rising) : Ladies and gentlemen ! I must tell you
this ; there are many toasts and speeches waiting
for us. We won't wait. We'll begin at once.
Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to drink a toast
to the bride and bridegroom. {The band plays a
flourish. " Htirrah ! " Clinking of glasses.)
no THE WEDDING
MozGOVY : It's bitter !
All : Bitter ! Bitter ! [Aplombov and Dashenka
kiss.)
Yat : Wonderful, wonderful ! I must express to
you, ladies and gentlemen, with the utmost
veracity, that this room and the place in general
are magnificent. Superlatively enchanting. —
But do you know why it does not partake of a
complete triumph ? There's no electric light,
excuse the expression. Electric light has been
introduced already in all countries ; only Russia
is left behind.
JiGALOV {thoughtfully) : Electric— h'm. But to my
idea, electric light is just trickery. They put a
little bit of coal there and think they can deceive
your eyes with it. No, friend, if you give light,
then don't give coal, but something real, some-
thing special, something you can take hold of.
Give a light, you understand, a light which is
something and not simply an idea.
Yat : If only you were to see what an electric
battery is composed of, you'd think differently.
JiGALOV : I don't want to see it. Trickery ! They
deceive simple folk, and squeeze them to the last
drop. We know that sort of people. And you.
THE WEDDING iii
you ig man, instead of defending trickery, would
have done better to drink and pour out for others.
That's the truth !
Aplombov : I quite agree with you, dear papa.
Why introduce scientific discourses ? I myself
am ready to speak about certain discoveries,
but then there's another time for that. {To
Dashenka.) What's your opinion, ma chere ?
Dashenka : They like to show their education and
always speak about something one can't under-
stand.
Nastasia : Heavens ! We have lived our time
without education, and now we're marrying our
third daughter to a fine husband. If you think
we are uneducated, why do you come to us?
Be off with your education !
Yat : Madame, I always take your family into con-
sideration, and if I spoke about electric light it
does not signify that I did so from pride. Your
healths ! I always with all my heart wished
Dashenka a good husband. It is hard nowadays,
Madame, to find a good man. Nowadays every-
one watches his chance to marry for interest, for
money^
Aplombov ; That is an insinuation !
112 THE WEDDING
Yat {fearfully) : No, there's no allusion to any-
body ! I'm not speaking of present company.
I was speaking just in general — please ! I know
well that you married for love and the dowry's
nothing.
N ASTASIA : No, it isn't nothing ! Don't forget your-
self, sir, when you speak ! Beside a thousand
roubles in actual coin, we are giving three sets
of furs, bedding and all the furniture. Just see if
other people give dowries like that.
Yat : I don't mean anything — the furniture is
really beautiful and — and the furs certainly — but
I mean they took offence that I made insinua-
tions.
Nastasia : Don't make insinuations ! We respect
you for your parents and we invited you to the
wedding, but you say all sorts of things. And
if you knew that Epaminondas was marrying for
interest, why did you say nothing beforehand ?
{Weeps.) Perhaps — I have nourished her and
cared for her and looked after her — I should have
guarded better my emerald, my jew^el, my
daughter
Aplombov : You believe him ? I most humbly
thank you ! I'm very grateful indeed to you.
THE WEDDING 113
{To Yat.) As for you, Mr. Yat, although you are
an acquaintance of mine, I don't allow you to
behave so badly in a strange house. Have the
goodness to go away !
Yat : What's the matter ?
Aplombov : I wish you were as honourable as I
am ! In short, have the goodness to go away !
Gentlemen {to Aplombov) : Now, stop ! Remember
where you are ! Never mind ! Sit down ! Stop !
Yat : I didn't mean anything — You know, I — I
don't understand. Excuse me, I'm going. Only
give me first the five roubles you owe me from
last year for the waistcoat, excuse the expres-
sion. Your health again and — and I'm going ;
only first pay me what you owe.
Gentlemen : Now, let it be, let it be. Enough !
Is all this nonsense worth while ?
Master of Ceremonies {loudly) : To the health
of the parents of the bride, Mr. and Mrs. Jigalov !
{Band plays a flourish, " Hurrah J')
Jigalov {bows with emotion on all sides) : Thank
you, dear guests. I am very grateful to you not
to have forgotten us and to have been good enough
not to ignore us. And don't think I've got crafty
in my old age, or that there's any trickery ; I say
I
114 THE WEDDING
simply my feelings, from the bottom of my heart.
I grudge nothing to good people. We humbly
thank you. {Kisses all round,)
Dashenka {to her mother) : Mama dear, why are you
crying ? I am so happy.
Aplombov : Mama is upset at the separation. But
I would advise her instead to remember our
recent conversation !
Yat : Don't cry, Madame ! You think that such
tears are natural ? Not at all, simply a low-
spirited nervous system
JiGALOV : And are there chestnuts in Greece ?
DiMBA : Yes, there's everything there.
JiGALOV : But not mushrooms.
DiMBA : Yes, mushrooms too. Everything !
MozGOVY : Mr. Dimba, it's your turn to make a
speech. Ladies and gentlemen, allow Mr. Dimba
to make a speech.
All {to Dimba) : Speech ! Speech ! Your turn !
Dimba : What for ? I don't understand what —
what's the matter ?
JiGALOV : No, no ! Don't dare refuse ! It's your
turn ! Up you get !
Dimba {rises in confusion) : I can say — Russia is
one thing and Greece is another. Now the people
THE WEDDING 115
in Greece are one thing, and the people in Russia
are another. And the *' karavia *' which sail on
the sea you call ships, and those that go on land
you call railways — I understand well. We are
Greeks, you are Russians, and I want nothing —
I can say — Russia is one thing and Greece is
another. [Enter Newnin.)
Newnin : Stop, ladies and gentlemen, don't go on
eating ! Wait a little ! Madame, just half a
minute ! Please come here ! [Takes Nastasia
aside, breathlessly) Listen, the general's just
coming. At last I've found one. I was simply
in agony. A real general, in the flesh, old, eighty,
perhaps, or ninety, years old — —
Nastasia : When is he coming ?
Newnin : This very moment. You'll be grateful
to me all your life. He's not a general, he's a
peach ! A marvel ! Not any foot regiment, not
infantry at all, but navy ! In rank he's a second-
grade captain, and with them, in the navy, that's
just the same as a field-marshal or, in civil rank,
a privy councillor. Absolutely the same ! Even
higher !
Nastasia : You're not deceiving me, Andrew ?
Newnin : Now, am I a rascal ? Don't you worry.
ii6 THE WEDDING
Nastasia (sighing) : I don't want to waste money,
Andrew.
Newnin : Don't you worry. He's not a general,
he's a work of art ! (Raises his voice.) And I
said to him, " You've quite forgotten us, your
excellency," I said. '' It's not right, your ex-
cellency, to forget old friends ! Mrs. Jigalov is
very angry with you," I said. (Goes to table and
sits down.) And he said, *' My dear friend, how
can I go if I am not a friend of the bridegroom's ? "
" Oh, that's being too much, your excellency," I
said. " What ceremonies ! The bridegroom,"
I said, *' is a most charming, open-hearted man.
To be working with an appraiser at the bank,
you don't think, your excellency, this is a young
good-for-nothing. Why," I said, '* nowadays
even noble ladies work at banks." He clapped
me on the shoulder, I smoked a Havana with him,
and now he's coming. Wait just a moment,
ladies and gentlemen, don't go on eating !
Aplombov : And when is he coming ?
Newnin : This moment. When I left him, he was
already putting on his goloshes. Wait just a
moment, ladies and gentlemen, don't go on
eating !
THE WEDDING 117
Aplombov : We must tell them to play a march.
Newnin (loudly) : Hey, musicians ! A march !
(Band plays a march.)
Servant (announcing) : Mr. Revunov-Karayiilov !
(Jigalov, Nastasia, and Newnin run to meet him.
Enter Revunov-Karayulov.)
Nastasia : Welcome, welcome, your excellency.
Very kind
Revunov-KarayiJlov : Extremely !
Jigalov : Your excellency, we are not eminent,
not exalted people, but simple folk ; but do not
think there is any trickery on our side. There is
always the first place in our house for good
people ; we grudge them nothing. Welcome !
Revunov-KarayiJlov : Extremely pleased !
Newnin : Allow me to introduce the bridegroom,
Mr. Aplombov, your excellency, and his newly-
born — I mean, newly-wed — ^wife ! And this is
Mr. Yat, of the telegraph. This is Mr. Dimba, a
foreign gentleman of Greek nationality, in the
confectionery profession. And so on, and so on —
the rest are all — rubbish. Take a seat, your
excellency.
Revunov-Karayijlov : Extremely ! Excuse me,
ladies and gentlemen, I just want to say two
ii8 THE WEDDING
words to Andrew. {Takes Newnin aside.) I'm a
little confused, my friend. Why did you call me
" your excellency '' ? I'm not a general, I'm a
second-grade captain, and that's lower than a
colonel.
Newnin {shouts in his ear) : Oh, yes, yes, I
know, but allow us to call you '* your excel-
lency " ! The family here, you know, is patri-
archal, it respects the aged, it loves respect for
rank.
Revunov-Karayi5lov : Well, if that's the case,
then by all means ! {They go to the table.) Ex-
tremely !
N ASTASIA : Take a seat, your excellency. Be so
kind ! Take something to eat, your excellency.
Only excuse us, at home you must be used to
everything elegant, but with us it's all simple.
Revunov-KarayiJlov {hearing badly) : What ?
H'm — Oh, yes. {Pause.) Oh, yes. In the old
times people always lived simply and were satis-
fied. I am a man with a certain rank and yet I
live simply. To-day Andrew came to me and
invited me to the wedding. '* How can I go," I
said, '' if I don't know them ? It's not the proper
thing." But he said, " These are simple people.
THE WEDDING 119
patriarchal, pleased to welcome guests/' '' Well/'
I said, *' by all means, if that's the case ! Why
not ? Very glad. It's dull for me at home alone,
and if my presence at the wedding can cause any
pleasure, so do me the favour," said I.
JiGALOV : You really mean it, your excellency ?
I esteem you for it. I'm a simple man myself,
without any trickery, and I esteem such people.
Take something to eat, your excellency.
Aplombov : You have been long retired, your
excellency ?
Revunov-Karayijlov : Eh ? Oh, yes, yes, that's
so. True. Yes. But excuse me, what's all this ?
Bitter herrings and bitter bread ! One can't eat
anything !
All : Bitter ! Bitter ! {Aplombov and Dashenka
kiss.)
Revunov-Karayi5lov : Hee, hee, hee. Your
healths {Pause.) Yes ! In the old days all
was simple and everyone was satisfied. I love
simplicity. I'm an old man ; I retired in '65 ;
I'm seventy-two years old. {Sees Mozgovy.)
You're a sailor, then ?
Mozgovy : Yes, I am.
Revunov-Karayijlov : Aha ! So ! Yes ! Service
120 THE WEDDING
at sea was always hard. There are things to
ponder and split your head about. Every in-
significant word has, so to speak, its separate
meaning. For instance — ^the fore-topman in the
shrouds on the top-gallant lashings ! What does
that mean ? A sailor understands ! Hee, hee.
Now Where's your mathematics !
Newnin : The health of his excellency. Captain
Revunov-Karayiilov ! {Band plays a flourish.
'' Hunahr)
Yat : Your excellency, you were pleased just now
to express yourself on the subject of the hard-
ness of naval service. But tell me if the tele-
graph's any easier ? Nowadays, your excellency,
no one can enter the telegraph service unless he
can read and write French and German. But the
hardest thing we have to do is the transmission
of telegrams. Terribly hard. Please listen a
moment. [Raps with a fork on the table, imitating
a telegraphic apparatus.)
Revunov-KarayiJlov : What's that ?
Yat : That's for : I esteem you, your excellency,
for your virtues. You think it's easy ? And
again. {Raps.)
Revunov-KarayiJlgv : Louder. I can't hear you.
THE WEDDING 121
Yat : And that's for : Madame, how happy I am
to clasp you in my embraces !
Revunov-Karayijlov : What lady ? Yes. {To
Mozgovy.) And then, suppose it's blowing half
a gale and youVe got — youVe got to hoist the
foretop halliards and the tops'l gallants. You
must give the order : " Mount the rigging to the
foretop halliards and the topsl gallants,'' and at
the same time as they loose the sails on the stays,
below they are standing to the main lashings and
the tops'l gallant halliards
Master of Ceremonies {rising) : Dear ladies and
gentle
Revunov-Karayijlov {breaking in) : Yes ! A few
other commands ? Yes ! To furl the foretop
halliards and the tops'l gallants ! Good ? Now
what does that mean, what's the meaning of it ?
It's very simple. To furl, you know, the foretop
halliards and the tops'l gallants and hoist the
mains'l — all at once ! They must level the fore-
topmains and the tops'l gallant halliards on the
hoist ; at the same time, there's the necessity of
strengthening the braces of all the sails ; and
when the stays are taut and the braces raised
all round, then the foretop halliards and the
122 THE WEDDING
tops'l gallants, settling conformably with the
direction of the wind
Newnin : Your excellency, the host begs you to
speak of something else. The guests don't under-
stand all this, and it's dull.
Revunov-KarayiJlov : What ? Who's dull ? (2^o
Mozgovy.) Young man, suppose the vessel is
lying by the wind, on the starboard course, under
full stretch of canvas, and you have to bring her
over before the wind ? What orders must you
give ? Why, this : Whistle all hands on deck
for a tack across before the wind. Hee, hee !
Newnin : Yes, yes ! Take something to eat.
Revunov-Karayulov : Just as they all come
running out, at once you give the command :
*' Stand to stations for a tack across before the
wind ! " Ah ! That's life ! You give the order
and watch how the sailors, like lightning, run to
their places and adjust the lashings and the
halliards. You finish by shouting out, " Bravo,
my fine fellows." (Shouts and chokes.) -
Master of Ceremonies [hastens to take advantage
of the probable pause) : On this day, to-day, so to
speak, on which we are collected together here to
do honour to our beloved
THE WEDDING 123
Revunov-KarayiJlov [breaking in) : Yes ! Yes !
And all this has to be remembered. For instance,
halliard-royals, tops'l gallants
Master of Ceremonies (offended) : What's he in-
terrupting for ? We can't say a single word.
N ASTASIA : We ignorant people, your excellency, do
not understand anything of this. But tell us
instead something to please
Revunov - Karayi5lov (misunderstanding) : I've
just eaten some, thank you. You said '* cheese,*'
did you not ? Thank you. Yes ! I was recalling
old times. But certainly it's fine, young man.
" If you sail on the sea, you'll know no care."
(With a trembftng voice.) You recollect the
delight of tacking in a gale ? What seaman does
not light up at the recollection of this manoeuvre ?
The very moment the command resounds, " Pipe
all hands aloft," an electric spark seems to fly
over everybody. From the commander to the
lowest sailor — all tremble with excitement
Zmewkin : O, how dull ! How dull ! (General
murmur,)
Revunov-Karayi5lov (misunderstanding) : Thank
you, I have had some. {With rapture,) Everyone
gets ready and turns his eyes on the first officer.
124 THE WEDDING
" Stand to the gallants and starboard tops'l
braces, and the port main braces, and port
counter-braces,'* orders the first officer. All is
accomplished in a moment ; halliard royals and
tops'l lashings heaved. All right on board !
(Stands up.) Off flies the vessel in the wind and
at last the sails begin to get wet. The first
officer cries, " The braces, don't dawdle at the
braces," and fixes his eyes on the maintop, and
when at last the tops'l gets wet, at that moment
the vessel begins to tack, and you hear the loud
command, " Loose the maintop halliards, let go
the braces,'' then everything flies off with a crack
— like the Tower of Babel — and all is accom-
plished without a fault. You've tacked !
N ASTASIA (bursting out) : But, General, you're
being unpleasant ! You ought to know better,
at your age ! You're unpleasant !
Revunov-Karayijlov : Pheasant ? No, I haven't
had any. Thank you.
Nastasia (loudly) : I said, you're being unpleasant !
You ought to know better, at your age. General.
Newnin (agitated) : Now, come — there, there.
Really
Revunov-KarayiJlov : For the first thing, I'm not
THE WEDDING 125
a general, but a second-grade captain, which
corresponds on the list to a lieutenant-colonel
Nastasia : Then, if you're not a general, why did
you take the money ? And we didn't pay you
money for you to be unpleasant.
Revunov-Karayijlov {perplexed) : What money ?
Nastasia : You know what money ! You received
through Mr. Newnin twen [To Newnin,)
But it's your fault, Andrew. I didn't ask you
to hire such a man.
Newnin : Now, there — let it be ! Is it worth
while ?
Revunov-KaraytJlov : Hired — paid — ^what's this ?
Aplombov : But excuse me. You received the
twenty-five roubles from Mr. Newnin ?
Revunov-Karayi5lov : What twenty-five roubles ?
(Ponders,) Ah! I see ! Now I understand every-
thing. How disgusting ! How disgusting !
Aplombov : Then you did receive the money ?
Revunov-KarayiJlov : I received no money at
all ! Off with you ! {Leaves the table,) How dis-
gusting ! How low ! To affront an old man, a
sailor, an officer of merit ! If this were decent
society, I'd challenge you to a duel, but now what
can I do ? {Muddled.) Where's the door ?
126 THE WEDDING
Which is the way out ? Waiter ! Show me out !
Waiter ! How low ! How disgusting ! {Exit.)
Nastasia : Andrew, where are those twenty-five
roubles ?
Newnin : Come, is it worth while to speak of such
trifles ? Everybody else is gay, but you, Heaven
knows why — {Shouts.) To the health of the young
people ! Musicians, play a march ! Musicians !
{Band begins to play a march.) To the health of
the young people !
Zmewkin : I feel stifled ! Give me atmosphere !
Beside you I feel stifled !
Yat {in an ecstasy) : Wonderful woman ! Wonder-
ful woman ! {The noise gets louder.)
Master of Ceremonies {stands and shouts) : Dear
ladies and gentlemen ! On this day, to-day, so
to speak
(Curtain)
THE JUBILEE
By ANTON CH^HOV
CHARACTERS
Shipuchin Tatiana
HiRiN Mrs. Merchutkin
Managers
THE JUBILEE
{Scene : The managing director's study at a bank,
furnished with affected sumptttousness. Velvet-
covered furniture, flowers, statues, rugs, telephone.
Midday, Hirin, the bookkeeper, is alone.)
HiRiN [shouts at the door) : Go to the chemist's and
get three ha'penny worth of nerve tonic, and
tell them to bring some fresh water to the direc-
tor's study. I've got to tell you a hundred times !
[Goes to table,) I'm tired out. I've been writing
for four days without closing my eyes ; from
morning to evening I'm writing here, and from
evening to morning, at home. [Coughs.) My
whole body's inflamed. Shivering, fever, cough-
ing ; I've got rheumatism in my legs, things keep
coming in front of my eyes. [Sits down.) Our old
joker, this brute, this managing director, is going
to read the report to-day at the general meeting :
*' Our bank at the present moment and in time to
K 129
130 THE JUBILEE
come " — you'd think he was Gambetta. (Writes.)
Two, one, one, six, nought, seven, add six, nought,
one, six — He wants to throw dust in their eyes ;
so I've got to sit here and work for him Hke a'
nigger.j He just puts the poetry into the report ;
but I must tap away on the counting machine
all day long, hell take him. [Taps the machine.)
I can't stand it. (Writes.) One to carry, three,
seven, two, one, nought. He promised to pay
me for my trouble./ If everything goes off well
to-day and he takes in the public, he's promised
me a gold pendant and three hundred roubles.
We'll see. (Writes.) Well, and if all my trouble
goes for nothing,!*; well, my friend, I'm sorry —
I'm a passionate man ! Yes, my friend, in a fit
of temper I can even commit a crime. Yes !
(Off, noise and applause. Shipuchin's voice,
" Thank you ! Thank you ! I am moved ! "
Enter Shipuchin, middle-aged, in a frock-coat and
white tie, with a monocle. He carries an album
which has just been presented to him. All the while
he is on the stage, employees bring him papers to
sign.)
Shipuchin (standing at the door) : This gift of yours,
dear colleagues, I shall preserve to my death, as a
THE JUBILEE 131
remembrance of the happiest days of my life]^
( Yes, my dear, dear sirs ! Once again I thank you.
{Throws them a kiss, and goes up to Hirin.) My
dear fellow, my esteemed Hirin !
Hirin {rising) : I have the honour to congratulate
you, Mr. Shipuchin, on your fifteenth year at the
head of the bank and I hope that
Shipuchin {squeezing his hand) : Thank you, my
dear fellow. Thank you ! This notable day,
this jubilee — Very, very glad ! Thank you for
your services, for everything ; for everything I
thank you. If, while I have had the honour to
be managing director of this bank, if anything
useful has been done, then I am indebted for it
before all else to my colleagues. {Sighs.)) Yes,
my dear fellow, fifteen years ! Fifteen years, or
I'm not Shipuchin ! {Briskly.) Well, what about
my report ? Is it coming along ?
Hirin : Yes. There are about five pages left.
Shipuchin : Excellent. That means, it will be
ready at three ?
Hirin : If nobody disturbs me, it'll be finished.
There's just rubbish left.
Shipuchin : Magnificent. Magnificent, or I'm not
Shipuchin ! The general meeting will be at four.
132 THE JUBILEE
Please, dear old chap ; give me the first half,
and I'll study it. Give it me quick. {Takes the
report) I base gigantic hopes on this report. It's
my '* profession de foi," or, to put it better, my
firework — my firework, or I'm not Shipuchin !
{Sits down and reads the report to himself.) But
I'm devilish tired. Last night I had an attack
of gout, all the morning I've been busy with little
affairs and running about, then these commo-
tions and ovations and agitations — I'm tired.
HiRiN : Two, nought, nought, three, nine, two,^
nought — It's all green before my eyes with figures.
Three, one, six, four, one, five. {Taps the machine)
Shipuchin : And another bother — ^This morning
your wife called on me and complained about you
again. She said, last night you ran after her and
your sister-in-law with a knife. What does that
look like, Hirin ? Come, come !
HiRiN {roughly) : I take the liberty, Mr. Shipuchin,
on the occasion of the jubilee, to make a request
to you. I beg you, if only out of consideration
for my working like a nigger, not to interfere with
my family life. Please don't !
Shipuchin {sighs) : You've got an impossible
character, Hirin, You're an excellent fellow and
THE JUBILEE 133
respectable, but when it comes to women you
behave like Jack the Ripper. Really, I can't
understand why you dislike them so !
HiRiN : And I can't understand why you like them
so. (Pause.)
Shipuchin : The employees have just presented me
with an album and the managers, so I hear, want
to present me with an address and a silver bowl.
(Plays with his monocle,) Good, or I'm not
Shipuchin ! That's not without its use. For the
reputation of the bank, some pomp is necessary,
damn it all. You're a good fellow ; after all, you
know all about it. I wrote the address myself and
bought the silver bowl as well. The binding for
the address cost a lot, but it wouldn't do without
it. By themselves they wouldn't have been good
for anything. (Looks round,) What an establish-
ment ! What an establishment ! They may say
I am trivial, because I want the brass on the
doors polished and the people on my staff to
wear fashionable ties and a fat porter to stand at
the door. Not at all, gentlemen. The brass on
the doors and the fat porter are not trifles. At
my own home I can be an ordinary person, eat
and sleep like a pig, and drink and drink
134 THE JUBILEE
HiRiN : No allusions, if you please !
Shipuchin : Oh, nobody's making allusions. What
an impossible character youVe got ! This is what
I'm saying — at home I can be an ordinary person,
a parvenu, a slave to habits, but here everything
must be "en grand ! '* This is the bank ! Here
every detail must, so to speak, be imposing and
have a dignified appearance. (Picks up a piece of
paper and throws it in the grate.) It is my par-
ticular pride that I have raised high the reputa-
tion of the bank. It's a big thing, tone, a big
thing, or I'm not Shipuchin ! [Looks at Hirin.)
My dear fellow, at any moment the deputation of
the managers may arrive, and you're in felt
slippers, in that scarf, in that wild-coloured
jacket ; you might have put on a frock-coat, well,
anyhow, a black coat
Hirin : My health is more to me than your bank-
managers. My whole body's inflamed.
Shipuchin {disturbed) : But agree with me that it's
untidy ! You spoil the ensemble.
Hirin : When the deputation comes, I can hide —
that's not a great misfortune. {Writes.) Seven,
one, seven, two, one, five, nought. I too don't
like untidiness. Seven, two, nine. [Taps the
THE JUBILEE 135
machine.) I can't bear untidiness ! You'd have
done well to-day not to invite ladies to the jubilee
dinner.
Shipuchin : What nonsense !
HiRiN : I know you are letting them in to-day so
as to be elegant. But, you see, they'll spoil
everything for you. From them comes all un-
tidiness.
Shipuchin : On the contrary, women's society ele-
vates.
HiRiN : Yes ! Now, you'd call your wife an educated
woman ; and last Monday she said a thing that
made me gasp for a couple of days. Suddenly
she asked me before strangers, '* Is it true that at
our bank my husband bought those shares in the
Drage-Prage bank which dropped on the Ex-
change ? Oh, my husband is so uneasy ! " And
that before strangers ! And why you're so open
with them, I can't understand. Do you v/ant
them to lead you into the courts ?
Shipuchin : All right, enough, enough. This is all
too gloomy for a jubilee. But you do well to
remind me. {Looks at his watch.) My wife should
be here immediately. In the ordinary way I
should have driven to the station to meet the poor
136 THE JUBILEE
girl, but there's not time and — and Tm tired. To
tell the truth, I'm not glad she's coming. I'm
glad, but it would have been better for me if
she had stayed just another two days with her
mother. She wants me to spend the whole
evening with her to-day, and all the time there's
a little excursion arranged for after dinner.
{Shudders.) That nervous shivering's starting
already. My nerves are so strained that I think
the slightest little thing would start me crying.
No, I must be strong ; or I'm not Shipuchin !
(Enter Tatiana Shipuchin, twenty-five years old, in
a waterproof, carrying an expensive hag.)
Shipuchin : Bah ! Talk of the devil !
Tatiana : Darling ! {Runs to her husband. A long
kiss.)
Shipuchin : Why, we were just talking about you.
{Looks at his watch.)
Tatiana {breathlessly) : Lonely ? Quite well ? I
haven't been home yet — came straight here from
the station. I must tell you, lots and lots — I
can't keep it — I won't take off my waterproof —
I shall only be a minute. {To Hirin.) Good
morning, Mr. Hirin. {To Shipuchin.) Every-
thing all right at home ?
THE JUBILEE 137
Shipuchin : Everything. Why, youVe grown
stouter in the last week and prettier. Well, how
did it go off ?
Tatiana : Excellently. Mama and Kate send you
their love. Basil sends you a kiss. {Kisses him.)
Aunt sends you a pot of jam, and they're all
angry that you don't write. Zena sends you a
kiss. {Kisses Mm.) Oh, if you only knew what
happened ! What do you think ? It's all strange
to me, even to tell it. What do you think hap-
pened ? — But I can see from your eyes that
you're not glad to see me»
Shipuchin : Just the contrary, darling ! {Kisses
her, Hirin coughs angrily)
Tatiana {sighs) : Oh, poor Kate, poor Kate ! Tm
so sorry, so sorry for her !
Shipuchin : Darling, we have a jubilee to-day, and
at any moment a deputation may come from the
managers, and you're not dressed.
Tatiana : Really, a jubilee ! I congratulate you,
gentlemen, I wish you — then there'll be a meeting
to-day and a dinner. I love that ! Do you re-
member that fine address you wrote so long ago
for the managers ? Will they read it to you
to-day ? {Hirin coughs angrily.)
138 THE JUBILEE
Shipuchin {confused) : Darling, one doesn't speak
of that — Really, you're going home, eh ?
Tatiana : Immediately, immediately. I can tell you
in an instant, and then go. I'll tell you all about
it, right from the beginning. Well, when you saw
me off, I was sitting, you remember, side by side
with that big woman. I began to read ; I don't
like conversations in a railway-carriage. For
three stations I read and didn't speak to her or
anybody. Well, evening came on and you know
gloomy thoughts like that always disappear.
Opposite me sat a young man, nothing particular
to look at, not ugly, dark — Well, we commenced
to talk. Then a sailor arrived and sonle student
or other. {Smiles.) I told them I wasn't married.
How they looked after me ! We chatted right up
to midnight, the dark young man told awfully
funny stories and the sailor sang all the time. My
sides ached with laughing. And when the sailor
— oh ! those sailors ! — ^when the sailor found out
by accident that my name was Tatiana, what do
you think he sang? {Sings bass.) *' Onegin,
conceal it I cannot, how madly I love fair
Tatiana ! " {Giggles. Hirin coughs angrily.)
Shipuchin : But, Tanyusha, we're disturbing Mr.
Hirin. Go home, darling, and afterwards
THE JUBILEE 139
Tatiana : Never mind, never mind, let him listen
too. It's very interesting ; Tm just finishing.
At the station, Sereja came to meet me. She had
brought some young man, an inspector of taxes,
I think, nothing particular to look at, very nice,
especially the eyes — Sereja introduced him and
we all three went off together. The weather
was wonderful {Voices off : '* You mustn't !
You mustn't ! What do you want ? " Enter Mrs.
Merchutkin, old, in a cloak)
Merchutkin {at the door, fanning herself) : What
are you stopping me for ? I must go myself !
{Enters; to Shipuchin.) Allow me to introduce
myself, your excellency, I am the wife of Mr.
Merchutkin.
Shipuchin : What can I do for you ?
Merchutkin : Please listen, your excellency ; my
husband was ill for five months and while he was
lying at home getting better, they dismissed him
without any reason, your excellency, and when
I went for his salary, please listen, they had taken
a quarter off his salary. *' Why ? " I asked them.
"He's been borrowing from the fund," they told
me, *' and other people guaranteed him." How
can that be ? He can't take anything without
140 THE JUBILEE
my consent ! They mustn't do it, your excel-
lency ! I'm a poor woman, and live by lodgers.
I'm a weak, defenceless woman — everybody in-
sults me, and I never hear a kind word from
anybody.
Shipuchin : Permit me. {Takes her application and
reads it, standing.)
Tatiana {to Hirin) : But I must begin at the be-
ginning. Suddenly last week I got a letter from
Mama. She wrote that a certain Grendelevski
had proposed to my sister Kate. An excellent,
modest young man, but without any means and
with no particular position. And apparently,
just imagine, Kate was attracted by him.
What was to be done ? Mama wrote to me
to come at once and use my influence over my
sister.
Hirin {roughly) : Excuse me, you're disturbing me !
You and Mama and Kate — here am I disturbed
and I don't understand anything/
Tatiana : There's seriousness ! Why are you so
bad-tempered to-day ? You're in love ? {Smiles.)
Shipuchin {to Merchutkin) : Excuse me, what is all
this about ? I don't understand.
Tatiana : In love ? Aha ! He blushed !
THE JUBILEE 141
Shipuchin {to his wife) : Tanyusha darling, just go
into the office for half a minute. I'll come im-
mediately.
Tatiana : Very well, dear. {Exit.)
Shipuchin : I don't understand. You've evidently
made a mistake, Madame. Your application does
not concern us at all. Just give yourself the
trouble to apply to the government department
in which your husband worked.
Merchutkin : Kind sir, I have been there already
five months, and they won't take in the appli-
cation. I nearly went out of my head, but
luckily my son-in-law Boris advised me to come
to you. " Mama," he said, " apply to Mr. Shipu-
chin ; he's an influential man and can do any-
thing." Help me, your excellency !
Shipuchin : We can't do anything for you, Mrs.
Merchutkin. Do you understand — your husband,
as far as I can judge, served in the Army Medical
Department, but this is a perfectly private com-
mercial establishment ; this is a bank. Surely
you understand ?
Merchutkin : Your excellency, I have a doctor's
certificate about my husband's illness. Here it is,
please look at it
142 THE JUBILEE
Shipuchin {irritably) : Certainly ; I believe you ;
but, once again, this does not concern us. {Off,
Tatiana's laugh, followed by male laughter)
Shipuchin {looking through the door) : She's dis-
turbing the clerks out there. {To Merchutkin.)
It's curious ; it's quite ridiculous. Does your
husband really not know where you should
apply ?
Merchutkin : Your excellency, I must tell you, he
knows nothing ! He keeps on saying, *' It's not
your business ; go away ! " That's all !
Shipuchin : Once again, Madame — Your husband
served in the Army Medical Department, and this
is a bank, a private commercial establishment.
Merchutkin : Oh, yes, yes, yes, I understand, kind
sir. In that case, your excellency, tell them to
give me just a little. I'm quite willing not to
take it all at once.
Shipuchin {sighs) : Ugh !
HiRiN : Mr. Shipuchin, I shall never finish the
report like this.
Shipuchin : One moment ! {To Merchutkin.) I
can't explain it to you, you see. Now please
understand that to come to us with an applica-
tion like this is as strange as to apply for a divorce,
THE JUBILEE 143
say, at a chemist's or an assay-office. {A knock at
the door, and Tatiana*s voice : ''Andrew, may I
come in ? ")
Shipuchin {calls out) : Wait a second, darling ;
one second ! {To Merchutkin) They didn't
pay you, but what have we got to do with it ?
Besides, Madame, we have a jubilee to-day and
we're busy — and at any moment someone might
come — Excuse me.
Merchutkin : Your excellency, take pity on me,
an orphan. I am a weak, defenceless woman.
I'm worried to death. W\id± with law-cases with
the lodgers and trouble on account of my husband
and running about with the housework, and then
my son-in-law still without a position— —
Shipuchin : Mrs. Merchutkin, I — ^no, excuse me,
I can't talk to you ! My head's quite dizzy.
You're disturbing us, and wasting our time for
nothing. {Sighs ; aside.) I know what'll stop
her, or I'm not Shipuchin ! {To Hirin,) Mr.
Hirin ! Please explain to Mrs. Merchutkin.
{Waves his hand, and goes out.)
Hirin {approaches her roughly) : What can I do for
you?
Merchutkin ; I am a weak, defenceless woman.
144 THE JUBILEE
Perhaps I look strong, but if you come to examine
me IVe not got a single healthy vein in me ! I
can hardly stand on my legs, and my appetite's
quite gone. This morning I drank my coffee
without any pleasure.
HiRiN : I ask you, what can I do for you ?
Merchutkin : Kind sir, tell them to give me just
a little, and let the rest wait a few months.
HiRiN : It seems to me, you were told in plain
language — ^this is a bank !
Merchutkin : Yes, yes ; and if it's needed I can
produce a medical certificate.
HiRiN : What have you got on your shoulders, a
head, or what ?
Merchutkin : Dear gentleman, Tm only asking for
my legal rights. I don't want anything of any-
body else's.
HiRiN : I ask you, Madame, what have you got on
your shoulders, a head, or what ? Oh, Lord !
I've no time to talk to you. I'm busy. {Points
to the door.) Please !
Merchutkin {surprised) : And the money ?
HiRiN : What it comes to is this — you haven't got
a head on your shoulders, but {Raps his
finger on the table, and then on his forehead.)
THE JUBILEE 145
Merchutkin [watching him) : What ! Oh, that
won't do ! That won't do ! Do that to your own
wife ! You don't do that to me !
HiRiN [angrily ; shouting) : Get out of it !
Merchutkin : That won't do ! That won't do !
I'm not afraid of you ! We've seen your sort
before ! Creature !
HiRiN [shouting) : I don't think in all my life I ever
saw anything so repugnant. Ugh! It's going
to my head ! [Breathes with difficulty.) I'll tell
you again ! Are you listening ? If you don't go
away from here, you old witch, I'll grind you to
powder ! I've got such a character, that I could
make a cripple of you for life ! I can commit a
crime !
Merchutkin : '' The dog barks, the wind blows it
away." I'm not frightened. We've seen your
sort before.
HiRiN [in despair) : I can't look at her ! I feel ill !
I can't ! [Goes to table and sits down.) They fill
the bank with women — I can't write the report.
I can't !
Merchutkin : I don't want anything of anybody
else's, I only want my legal rights. Oh, you
shameless man ! To sit here in slippers ! You
yokel ! [Enter Shipuchin, followed by Tatiana.)
146 THE JUBILEE
Tatiana : In the evening we went to Berejnitski's.
Kate was wearing a blue foulard frock, a little
decollete, and she had her hair done very high.
I combed her myself. And the way she was
dressed and had her hair done, well, it was simply
enchanting
Shipuchin [with a headache) : Yes, yes, enchanting
— ^They might be here at any moment.
Merchutkin : Your excellency !
Shipuchin [dejected] : What is it ? What do you
want ?
Merchutkin (pointing to Hirin) : Your excellency,
that man, that man there, he tapped his finger
on his forehead and then on the table ! You told
him to look after my business, and he makes
fun of every word. I'm a weak, defenceless
woman
Shipuchin : Very well, Madame, I'm considering
it. I will take measures. Go away now. After-
wards {Aside.) My gout's beginning.
Hirin {quietly to Shipuchin) : Mr. Shipuchin, tell
them to send for the porter, and let her be thrown
out by the scruff of the neck.
Shipuchin {frightened) : No, no ! She'^d start to
scream, and there are a lot of people in the house.
THE JUBILEE 147
Merchutkin : Your excellency !
HiRiN {in a mournful voice) : And IVe got to write
the report ! I haven't time ! [Returns to the
table,) I can't !
Merchutkin : Your excellency, when can I have
it ? I need the money to-day.
Shipuchin [aside, angrily) : Re — mark — ab — ^ly
horrible woman ! [Softly, to her.) Madame, I've
told you already. This is a bank, a private,
commercial establishment.
Merchutkin : Be kind to me, your excellency ;
be a father to me ! If the medical certificate isn't
enough, I can produce a certificate from the
police. Tell them to give me the money.
Shipuchin [sighs heavily) : Ugh !
Tatiana [to Merchutkin) : My dear lady, you've
been told that you have made a mistake. What
a woman you are, to be sure !
Merchutkin : Beautiful lady, nobody cares about
me. I've only one thing left, to eat and drink,
and to-day I drank my coffee without any
pleasure.
Shipuchin [feebly) : How much do you want ?
Merchutkin : Twenty-four roubles, thirty-six ko-
pecks.
148 THE JUBILEE
Shipuchin : Very well. {Takes twenty-five roubles
from his pocket-hook and gives them to her) There's
twenty-five roubles for you. Take them and —
go away ! {Hirin coughs angrily.)
Merchutkin : I most humbly thank you, your
excellency.
Tatiana {sits beside her husband) : It's time for me
to go home. {Looks at her watch.) But I haven't
finished yet ; I'll finish in a moment and go.
What do you think happened ? What do you
think ? Well, in the evening we went to Berej-
nit ski's. It wasn't anything particular ; it was
jolly, but not specially. Of course, Kate's
admirer, Grendelevski, was there. I spoke to
Kate, and cried, and persuaded her, and in the
evening she had an explanation with Grendelevski
and refused him. Well, I thought, everything is
in order, things couldn't be better ; I had quieted
Mama, saved Kate, and now I could be easy.
What do you think ? Just before supper we were
walking with Kate in the avenue, and suddenly —
{Rises) — suddenly we heard a shot ! No I can't
speak about it in cold blood ! {Fans herself with
her handkerchief.) No, I can't !
Shipuchin {sighs) : Ugh !
THE JUBILEE 149
Tatiana {weeps) : We ran to the summer-house,
and there, there lay poor Grendelevski with a
pistol in his hand.
Shipuchin : No, I can't stand it ! I can't stand it !
{To Merchutkin.) What do you want now ?
Merchutkin : Your excellency, couldn't my hus-
band take up his old post again ?
Tatiana {weeps) : He had shot himself right by the
heart — ^just there — Kate fainted, poor girl, and
he himself was terribly frightened. He lay there
and — and asked us to send for a doctor. The
doctor soon came — and saved the unlucky
fellow.
Merchutkin : Your excellency, couldn't my hus-
band take up his old post again ?
Shipuchin : No, I can't stand it. {Weeps.) I can't
stand it. {Stretches out his hands to Hirin in
despair,) Drive her out ! Drive her out ! Please !
Hirin {advances on Tatiana) : Get out of it !
Shipuchin : Not her — that one — ^that awful one —
{Points to Merchutkin) — ^that one
Hirin {misunderstands ; to Tatiana) : Get out of it !
{Stamps his feet.) Go away !
Tatiana : What ? What's the matter with you ?
Have you gone mad ?
150 THE JUBILEE
Shipuchin : This is awful ! I'm a miserable man !
Drive her out ! Drive her out !
HiRiN (to Tatiana) : Out of it ! I'll cripple you !
I'll smash you ! I'll commit a crime !
Tatiana [chased by Hirin) : How dare you ! You
impudent man ! Andrew ! Help ! Andrew !
[Begins to scream.)
Shipuchin [running after them) : Stop ! Please !
Be quiet ! Have mercy on me !
Hirin [chasing Merchutkin) : Get out of it ! Catch
her ! Hit her ! Cut her up !
Shipuchin : Stop ! Please ! I beg you !
Merchutkin : Dear lady ; oh, dear lady ! [Begins
to scream.) Dear lady !
Tatiana : Help ! Help ! Oh, Oh ! I feel ill ! I
feel ill ! [Jumps on a chair, then drops on the sofa
and moans.)
Hirin [chasing Merchutkin) : Catch her ! Hit her !
Cut her up !
Merchutkin : Oh, oh, dear lady ! It's all going
dark. Oh ! [Falls senseless in Shipuchin' s arms,
A knock at the door and a voice : " The Deputa-
tion.")
Shipuchin : Deputation — reputation — occupa-
tion
THE JUBILEE 151
HiRiN [stamping his feet) : Out of it ! Oh, hell !
[Tucking up his sleeves) Give me her ! I can
commit a crime. [Enter deputation of five persons,
all in frock-coats. One carries a velvet-hound
address and another the cup. The rest of the staff
stand at the door of the office. Tatiana on the sofa,
and Merchutkin in Shipuchin's arms, both groan
softly.)
A Manager [reads loudly) : Esteemed and beloved
Mr. Shipuchin, casting a retrospective regard
upon the past of our financial establishment and
turning an abstract glance upon the history of its
gradual development, we receive in the highest
degree a pleasurable sensation. It is true that in
the earliest period of its existence, the small
dimensions of its original capital, the absence of
any important operations and the general in-
definiteness of its position furnished a cause for
Hamlet's question, '* To be or not to be," and at
one moment there were even voices which advo-
cated the advantage of the entire closure of the
bank. Then you were placed at the head of the
establishment ! Your knowledge, energy, and
innate tact have been the cause of its extra-
ordinary success and its present remarkably
152 THE JUBILEE
flourishing condition. The reputation of the
bank — (Coughs) — the reputation of the bank
Merchutkin (groans) : Oh ! Oh !
Tatiana : Water, water !
Manager (continues) : The reputation — (Coughs) —
the reputation of the bank has been brought by
you to such a height that our estabHshment may
to-day well rival the very best foreign establish-
ments
Shipuchin : Deputation — reputation — occupa-
tion
Manager (continues in confusion) : Casting then an
objective glance upon the present, we, esteemed
and beloved Mr. Shipuchin — Perhaps afterwards
— Better afterwards. (Exit, with staff.)
(Curtain)
THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY
By L^SYA UKRAINKA
CHARACTERS
Eleazar Captives
Levites Prophets
Overseers
THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY
(A wide plain. The red sunset turns the waters of the
Euphrates to blood. Scattered on the plain are seen
the tents of the Hebrew captives. Naked children
seek shells in the mud and gather brushwood for the
fires. Weary women, mostly old, in rags, are
busied preparing supper, each at her own hearth,
for the men that have just returned from the town
after their toil and are sitting silently under the
willows near the water, A little farther off, also
under the willows, stand two groups, the Levites and
the prophets. On the willows, over the prophets*
heads, harps hang ; quivering from time to time,
they jingle in the evening wind. Far away are seen
the walls and towers of Babylon and sometimes
there comes the noise of the city,)
A Woman {at her fire) : Husband, come to supper.
[A man, still young, leaves a group and silently sits
down.)
155
156 THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY
Woman : Why dost not eat bread ? (The man is
silent,) Is it bitter ? There is nought to be done,
poor thing, thou must eat.
The Man (mumbling like an old man) : I cannot
eat.
Woman : Misery ! Hast no teeth ? Where
Man : There ! (Points to Babylon.)
Woman : Misery, misery, misery !
An Old Man (approaches an old woman sitting by
the extinguished fire of another hearth, motionless,
her head bowed down) : Give me supper ! (The
woman is silent and motionless.) Why hast not
prepared it ? (The woman is silent.) Why hast
ashes on thy hair ? (The woman is silent, and
bows still lower.) Where is our daughter ?
The Old Woman : There ! (Points to Babylon and
pours ashes upon her head.)
Old Man : Adonai ! (Tears his garments and falls
down. At a third fire sit only men, mostly old. A
woman approaches timidly ; ragged children hang
at her garments.)
The Woman : My fathers, pardon that I ask you ;
have ye not seen my husband ?
An Old Man : How is he called ?
The Woman : Ebenezer of Ossia.
THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY 157
Another Old Man : Was he so called before thou
wert a widow ?
The Woman : What sayest thou ?
A Third Old Man : Do not kill thyself ! Foes do
not torment the dead.
The Woman : What shall I do, miserable, with my
little children ?
The Children : Mother, mother, mother !
A Mad Woman {wandering among the fires) : Happy
the womb that did not bear ; happy the breast
that gave not suck. Hey ! rejoice not, Baby-
lonian woman ! Hey ! be not glad, mother of
vipers' sons !
A Girl {whispers to her companion, pointing at the
mad woman) : Tis from the time her child was
killed in Jerusalem.
Companion : How terrible !
Girl : And I saw it with my own eyes, how the
soldier seized her boy by his feet and struck
at
Companion : Be silent !
The Levites {under the willows) : For our fathers'
sin the Lord took from us the temple ; for our
ancestors' dishonour He took away His church.
158 THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY
And now, as a spendthrift's children, innocent
we expiate our fathers' debt.
The Prophets : Jerusalem smote us with stones,
and for it the wrath of the Lord smote her. The
daughter of Zion despised us, and for it the son
of Baal subdued her.
First Levite {to another) : Why hast not been at
prayers ?
Second Levite : The master sent me to the reck-
onings. The workmen from Haram are being
paid for their labour at the king's palace.
First Levite : Couldst not find one of the scribes
to take thy place ?
Second Levite : Service, brother ! The master
says no men are so skilled at reckoning as the
Hebrews.
First Levite : True.
Second Levite [aside to him) : For my good help
the chief gave me this ring.
First Levite : Glory to the Lord, that He hath
distinguished His people by wisdom above the
nations of all the world. [Aside.) Is there no
need of another to help ? [They whisper.)
A Samarian Prophet : Thus spake the Lord : On
Garisim I have builded an abode, on its summit I
THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY 159
made Mine altar, but ye forsook it and knew not
the house of My glory, as the foolish bibbing son
knoweth not his father's abode and wandereth in
outer darkness, a butt for strangers' children.
A Jewish Prophet : Thus spake the Lord : In
Jerusalem I made Mine abode among the people,
that, as bees come together to one hive, to one
queen, so would ye come together unto Me, to
the only Temple ; but, as a wild swarm, ye
flew^ away, and for it I sent evil hornets against
you.
Samarian Prophet : The lion of Judah ravished
Israel and dispersed his sheep.
Jewish Prophet : SauFs descendants are fit to be
keepers of flocks, but not of the people.
Samarian Prophet : The Lord of Israel shall reach
thee, and through me. {Raises his staff against
the Jewish Prophet.)
Jewish Prophet : Lord, remember Thy servant
David. (Raises a stone to cast at the Samarian
Prophet, Eleazar, a young prophet and singer,
just come from Babylon, throws himself between the
two)
Eleazar : Refrain ! Cover not with shame the
names of Israel and Judah.
i6o THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY
Samarian Prophet : Ah ! is it thou, prophet of
shame ? And how hast thou glorified Israel and
Judah ?
Jewish Prophet : Vile serpent, why earnest from
that nest ? There is thy God and thy people,
begone and glorify them !
First Levite : May the Lord vomit thee out of His
mouth, may thy name disappear as spittle ! [The
people gather round.)
Second Levite [catching a harp from the willows) :
I will break this cursed vessel.
Eleazar [catching his hand) : Touch not my harp,
for it is innocent of my sins ! Curse me, if thou
thinkest I am worthy, but curse not the holy
harp.
Third Levite : And how has it sanctified itself ?
Eleazar : That never from the first rang a string
insincerely.
A Boy : Aha ! Therefore thou didst hang it there.
Eleazar [to the Boy> sadly) : Why, youth, sayest
thou so ?
Boy : Pretend not thou dost not understand !
An Old Man : This youth told thee, Eleazar, what
thy conscience would have told thee — but a mute
cannot speak.
THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY i6i
A Man : And it is a vanity to talk to the deaf. {A
child stretches out its arms to the harp.)
The Child : Uncle, give me the toy.
First Mother : I told thee, dare not to come to
this man.
An Old Woman {to a girl standing near) : I see
' there is no more shame in Israel, when a girl
stands uncovered and looks upon a traitor.
The Girl : But I
First Woman : See, poor thing, it is a great
woe when one cursed by God steals a girl's
heart.
The Girl : If he be cursed, I also curse him. {Veils
herself and goes away.)
Eleazar {to all) : Fathers and brothers, mothers
and sisters, since when is it a custom among
us to condemn without judging ? Truly, clearly
tell me, why am I become as a leper among
you ?
The Old Man : Thou becamest leprous in Baby-
lon, singing for money in the courts to the sons of
Baal.
Eleazar : Are ye not all gathered here in Babylon
for labour ?
First Man : Labourers do not serve Moloch.
i62 THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY
Eleazar : Whom then do their arms and vessels
serve ? Have they not built such an abode for
Moloch, as never had our Lord in Jerusalem ?
First Prophet : Taunt not captives with their
slavery !
Eleazar : Am I not a captive ? Why curse ye me
for my forced labour ?
Second Prophet : The cord, the spade, the plough
and axe in men's hands are men's slaves ; but the
word in a prophet's mouth must serve God only,
and none other.
The Old Man : Yet wilt thou ask for judgment,
Eleazar ?
Eleazar : I will, though the judgment end with
stones. The Lord liveth ! Ye must judge by
truth ; an unjust curse shall turn against you.
The Old Man : Let us hear him. Let it not be said
we forsook truth on the ruins of Jerusalem. Tell
us what constrained thee to sell the word.
Eleazar : That none bought my hands. My father
did not teach me to labour, and weak my mother
bred me. Though the harp obeys my hands,
nor plough nor axe obeys them. I fell under a
burden, and the overseer drove me from the
labour.
THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY 163
The Old Man : Let then thy father and mother
feed thee, who have not taught thee to earn
bread.
Eleazar : In Jerusalem I earned honourably by
the means they taught me, and here too — but the
bread burns that my father brings from Babylon ;
hard it is to eat from a father's slavery.
First Levite : Not only bread thy father brings,
but also golden rings.
Eleazar [to all) : Teach this Levite that gold burns,
and not only shines.
First Levite {slyly) : Why does thy father's work
burn so ?
Eleazar : Am I judged here or my father ? Bring
then all fathers to judgment, that for their family
lose their souls.
First Levite : Why didst not cry to the nation to
feed thee with the bread wherewith it feeds
Levites and cripples ?
Eleazar : I am not Levite nor cripple.
A Little Boy {to his father) : Daddy, give me
bread !
The Father : I have none, my son.
A Man : Dost see ? He heard talk of bread and
eating, and says too, ''Give me bread.''
i64 THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY
Eleazar : Rightly says the boy. He answered for
me better than I could know. Ye all heard.
While in Israel they speak thus, Eleazar will not
share bread with Levites and cripples. He that
has bread, let him give to the child ; I will take
stones from the captives. He that has fish, let
him feed the children, and give me a viper that
drinks blood from the heart. I shall take it
and bear it with me into the courts ; it will give
sting to my words and its hissing they will hear
in Babylon.
A Youth : Much wilt thou earn for such songs in
Babylon ! Surely less than thou hast earned for
the hymns of Zion.
Eleazar : Unwisely, boy, hast spoken. I sang
them not hymns of Zion. The hymn of Zion, of
all songs the ornament, was as a bride in Jerusa-
lem, as a wife in the holy city ; here it were as
a concubine, for who taketh a captive as a lawful
wife ? {The people sigh. Eleazar holds his peace
and bows his head.)
A Man : Why didst not sing the songs of cap-
tivity ? Why hast not poured the bitter tears
of slavery ? The cold drop pierces the stone,
THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY 165
why would not hot tears touch even the wicked
heart ?
Eleazar : The Lord set pride in my souL Never
have I wept before strangers.
A Man : Pride befits not slaves.
First Prophet : The horn of pride in thee rose
above grief and holy love !
Eleazar : Measure not the measureless with the
endless, for thou wilt not see what will come of it.
A Youth : Eloquent is Eleazar among the cap-
tives ! Why in the Babylonian courts do his
love and grief and pride hold their peace ? Surely
the place is too small ?
Eleazar : And didst thou think it were enough ?
O youth, I have measured all those Babylonian
courts and know their size. It happened I
crossed that court where our people is building
a tower for Moloch. I stopped and gazed at it.
The marble is white as bones in the field, the
porphyry grey as shed blood, the gold shines as a
bright fire. It stands unfinished, like ruins ; the
cries of our conquerors are heard, and the groans
of our people. I know not how, with a great
voice I shouted over the whole place, " Jerusa-
lem ! " With a cry answered the captives from
i66 THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY
the wall, and with laughter answered the guards.
" Is that ruin called in any wise, has that desert
still a name ? '* I went away to the market where
they sell captives into slavery. There a rich
merchant was choosing the most lovely captives.
Women : Misery, misery, misery !
Eleazar : I said, *' Think, lord, these girls have
fathers and brothers. Were thy sister or daughter
taken captive, would the foe sell her ? '' He
answered, " Tis the fate of captives.'' I went
farther and saw a small, weak slave, and a tall,
strong Babylonian loaded him with wares, as a
mule, and drove him with a stick. I cried,
*' Stay ! To torment such a small boy ! " '' For
this he is a slave,'* he answered, arrogant. '' And
were thy son sold," said I, *' he too would be a
slave ? " '* Surely ; not otherwise," said the
rich man, and laughed aloud, ** but I do not sell
my sons, and thine, thou seest, I buy." Who,
what will touch such hearts ? Once only with
my songs I got a tear from a stranger ; the king
himself wept at the end of Saul and Jonathan's
death.
A Voice from the People : Long live the merciful
king ! In him only is our hope.
THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY 167
Eleazar : The merciful king wished to reward me
generously.
First Levite : What gave he thee, Eleazar ?
Eleazar : He gave me a chamber in his palace and
Jewish captives, as many as I would. From that
moment I cursed the songs that get tears from
conquerors ; they are the tears of the Nile's
crocodiles.
The Youth : Thou shouldst have sung them of the
fame of our ancestors, that they might know^ the
strength of our people.
Eleazar : I sang.
The Youth : And what ? {Eleazar is silent.)
The Old Man : Say, Eleazar, how the strangers
heard the songs of fame.
Eleazar {slowly) : One of them whistled and,
smiling, shook his head. Another said, " Not all
that is true." A third bade me join the military
singers ; and all, one after the other, said, " Is
there only that in the world which is in Jerusa-
lem ? Knowest thou no songs of Edom, of
Misraim ? Was not the fame of Amalek, Ammon
and Amareus as the past fame of Israel ? ''
First Prophet : O Lord, chastise the hostile lips
with the dumbness of death.
168 THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY
Eleazar : I began to sing them of Edom, of Mis-
raim, of foreign speeches in a foreign speech.
They heard how treacherous Edom's crooked
sword broke against Ashur's armour ; how
Amalek, Ammon and Amareus from ravishers
became slaves ; how Misraim, master of half the
world, once the lord of the tribes of Israel, had
to submit to the eternal might ; how horse and
rider fell into the sea, and all the Pharaoh's
might, whenas was voided the abhorred house of
toil and the cursed place of slavery was devas-
tated.
The Youth : And what did the listeners ?
Eleazar : There were those who paled.
Second Prophet : May they grow pale and cold
for ever !
The Youth : Why didst not say that also for these
will come a day of judgment ?
Eleazar : For that word there is no room in Baby-
lon ! To-day I sang them of Ophir, Sidon and
Tyre, their power and wisdom and treasures, as
are not and never will be in the Babylonian
treasuries.
First Levite : Didst gain much for this song ?
THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY 169
Eleazar : Thinkest, the treasures of Canaan ? See,
I have bread for this day's supper.
The Youth : Surely, for songs that praised Baby-
lon's power thou hast earned more than one
golden ring ?
Eleazar : The vile speaks only with poison, but
poison hurts not every man. When heardest
me sing songs of the Babylonian glory and
might ? [The youth is silent and ashamed.) Thou
hast judged thyself by thy silence.
The Old Man : Eleazar, it may be thy songs are
good in Babylon, but Misraim and Edom and all
their tongues will not bring Palestine to mind and
awake the thought of Jerusalem.
Eleazar : Is there already need to bring it to our
minds ?
The Old Man : Not to us, but to those that among
foes have used to speak the foreign speech
Eleazar : How will they understand the inborn
song ? How sing it in a foreign speech ?
The Old Man : With thy foreign words thou wilt
forget to say, '* Jerusalem ! '' [Eleazar stands
thoughtfully. His hand begins to touch the strings
of his harp, and his voice sounds, neither singing,
nor wailing, as of one who sleeps.)
170 THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY
Eleazar : My right hand was strong ; who could
overcome it ? Did I then say to myself : '' Happy
am I ; I have my right arm " ? Spake I ever
thus : '' Right arm, know thou art mine ! ''
But the evil foe wounded my hand and cut off
my right arm. Whom shall I overcome now ?
Who will not overcome me ? Day and night I
say to myself, '' O misery, where is my hand ? " I
look upon my shoulder and weep, '' Right arm,
how forget thee ? '' [He quietly touches the strings.
1^ he people weep.)
My father had a rich vineyard, my mother a
green garden. I walked in it, plucked the berries
and trampled the leaves with my feet. An evil
neighbour set fire to our vineyard and wasted the
green garden. The vine was burned, the berries
dropped and its glorious beauty fell to ashes. If
I find beneath my feet, be it only one leaf, I shall
press it to my heart. Dear brothers, say, has
none of you, be it only one leaf from my vine ?
[The strings sound still more sadly, and the weeping
becomes louder.)
I dreamed a dread dream — ^w^ho shall divine it ?
Twas as if I fell into the hands of the enemies.
What have they done to me, my terrible enemies ?
THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY 171
My arms still are mighty, my legs still are strong,
my eyes still are clear, and my body is not burt.
Only my tongue, my tongue was for their ven-
geance. I wished to speak a word ; I wished to
lift up my voice. But my lips spake with blood
and cried with silence. {A long pause. The harp
falls from Eleazar's hands and the sigh of its strings
dies away. The people's cries cease abruptly.
Silence. He speaks with respect^ but firmly and
distinctly.) Fathers and brothers, mothers and
sisters ! I wait for a stone or a word from you.
{Silence.) What curse is more awful than silence ?
The Old Man : We do not curse thee, Eleazar.
The Youth : Forgive me my hard word, brother.
Eleazar : Ye do not curse me. I forgive all your
words. But still I am cursed with the dreadful
curse of blood. The blood of our fathers, shed in
vain for our lost liberty, weighs upon my head
and yours, and bows down our forehead to the
earth, to the stone that the hand of my people
hurled not against me. A man's son fell and cut
himself on a sharp stone ; in despair he rent his
garments of honour and strewed ashes of dis-
grace upon his head. O, as the temple I fell, as
Jerusalem we fell all, and, as hard as it is to
172 THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY
rebuild our temple, so hard it is for us to rise
out of the dust of slavery's dishonour. Shame
fell upon our arms that rose not to take the lives
of us conquered, but rose to labour for the
enemies. Leprosy covered the bodies of the girls
of Zion, that they drowned not themselves in the
Euphrates, but went to entertain the sons of
lasciviousness and nurse the fruit of their shame.
And shame covered my lips that from hunger
these lips grew not still, but spake the strange
speech in those cursed courts where all songs
sound — and only that which bursts from the
heart must die. Infamy oppresses us worse
than chains, it bites worse than iron fetters. To
suffer chains is inhuman shame, to forget them
unbroken yet greater ignominy. Two paths we
have, death or disgrace, till we find a way to
Jerusalem. Brothers, let us look for a way to
the temple as the gazelle seeks water in the
desert, that the mighty foe may not say, '' Now
have I slain Israel ; it is dead ! '* And ere we
find it, let us fight for our life as the wounded
badger in the hunt ; let it not be said among men,
'' The Lord of Israel fell asleep in Heaven.'' O
Babylon, too early is it to rejoice ! Still our
THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY 173
harps sound among the willows, still tears flow
into the Babylonian rivers, still the daughter
of Zion burns with shame, still the lion of Judah
roars with fury. The Lord liveth, my soul liveth,
Israel liveth, even in Babylon !
The Voice of an Overseer from the Camp : To
the tents, Israel ; the night cometh. [The people
separate and go to their_ tents. On the distant
towers are seen the Babylonian magicians, fore-
telling from the stars. The camp grows still. From
Babylon faintly comes the sound of revels. The
solemn night trembles over the captive camp and
Babylon. Here and there quicken the overseers*
fires. Silence,)
(Curtain)
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RUSSIAN FOLK-TALES
TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN
BY
LEONARD A. MAGNUS, LL B.
WITH INTRODUCTION, NOTES
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** Russia is particularly rich in legends, folklore, and popular tales, and
the literature of this kind which it possesses is particularly worth
reading, not only as a matter of study, but also for delight. It is better
and more human folklore than most of our more Western matter, possibly
because it is less barbarous. It does not take its rise from Scandinavian
mythology, but from a gentle Nature-worship. . . . This volume is a good
one and worth consideration as an authentic fragment of Russian literature.
. . . The tales are playfully and curiously told. An interesting compilation
which has a great circulation in Russia just now is * Soldiers' Fairy Tales '
— a collection of folk-tales about soldiers — several of which are reproduced
in Mr. Magnus' volume." — Times,
" Present circumstances will give these tales a wide popularity. But
they deserve it on their own merits, for they betray the spirit of the
Russian peasantry with greater fidelity than is the case in other countries.
. . . These Russian tales are superior to the German ones in the goodness
of heart they reveal, their religiousness, their greater freedom from the
shackles of romanticism, and their keener sense of the world of
Nature. " — Standard,
''The book deserves the widest circulation." — Contemporary Review.
** The stories are over seventy in number. The translation is eminently
satisfactory." — Notes and Queries.
** Mr. Magnus' substantial volume is just what is wanted. He writes
good, clear English, and his notes are sufficient for the purpose."
Manchester Guardian.
*' Represent as completely as possible the varieties of the Native.
iQ>W-\.z\Q''— Outlook.^
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