VYSHNEVSKY. That’s stupid, my friend! Both insolent and stupid.
ZHADOV. But Uncle! What was their purpose in teaching us, why did they fill us with those ideas we can’t mention without your accusing us of stupidity or insolence?
VYSHNEVSKY. I don’t know who taught you there or what. It does seem to me better to teach people to do their work and respect their elders than to babble nonsense.
YUSOV. Yes, sir, that would be much better.
ZHADOV. Have it your way, I’ll keep quiet. But I can’t part with my convictions; they’re my sole consolation in life.
VYSHNEVSKY. Yes, in an attic eating a crust of black bread. A wonderful consolation! Out of hunger you’ll take to praising your own virtue, and you’ll curse your colleagues and superiors because they knew how to organize their lives, because they’re living in plenty, with a family, happy. Marvelous! That’s where envy will help.
ZHADOV. Good God!
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. That was cruel.
VYSHNEVSKY. Please, don’t think you’ve said something new. This sort of thing always was and always will be. The man who hasn’t known how or hasn’t managed to make a fortune for himself will always envy the man with a fortune; that’s human nature. It’s easy also to justify envy. Those who envy usually say, “I don’t want wealth; I may be poor, but I’m noble.”
YUSOV. Honeyed lips!
VYSHNEVSKY. Noble poverty is good only in the theater. But just try it out in life. That, my friend, is not so easy or pleasant as we’d like to think. You’ve gotten used to thinking only of yourself, but suppose you get married, what then? That’s something to think about!
ZHADOV. Yes, Uncle I am going to get married, and that’s what I wanted to talk with you about.
VYSHNEVSKY. And no doubt it’s for love, to some poor girl, most likely some fool with just as much understanding of life as you. She’s probably educated, and, accompanied by a piano out of tune, she sings, “With my darling it’s heaven, even in a hut.”1
ZHADOV. Yes, she’s a poor girl.
VYSHNEVSKY. Marvelous.
YUSOV. For the propagation of beggars, sir.
ZHADOV. Akim Akimych, don’t insult me. I haven’t given you any cause for that. Uncle, marriage is a big thing, and I think that in such a matter a man should follow his own inclinations.
VYSHNEVSKY. Go right ahead; nobody’s stopping you. But have you thought about things? You love your fiancée, of course?
ZHADOV. Naturally I love her.
VYSHNEVSKY. So what are you preparing for her, what joys in life? Poverty, all kinds of deprivation. In my opinion, a man who loves a woman tries to strew her path, so to speak, with all kinds of delights.
YUSOV. That’s right, sir.
VYSHNEVSKY. Instead of the hats and styles women feel they must have, you’ll be giving your wife sermons on virtue. Out of love for you she’ll listen, of course, but all the same she won’t be getting her hats and coats.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. At his age love isn’t bought yet.
ZHADOV. What Aunty says is true.
VYSHNEVSKY. I agree there’s no need for you to buy love, but every man is obliged to reward love, to pay for it; otherwise, the most unselfish love will grow cold. You’ll start getting reproaches, complaints against fate. I don’t know how you’ll be able to stand it when all the time your wife expresses regret that from inexperience she joined her lot with a beggar. In a word, it’s your obligation to provide for the happiness of the woman you love. And without wealth or at least some abundance there is no happiness for a woman. Maybe, as usual, you’ll start contradicting me, so I’ll prove it to you. Look around you. What smart girl will think twice before marrying an old or ugly man if only he has money? What mother will hesitate a second before marrying her daughter off to such a man even if the girl’s against it? Because she considers her daughter’s tears stupid and childish, and she thanks God for sending such good luck to her Mashenka or Annushka. Every mother knows in advance that her daughter will thank her afterwards. And if only for his peace of mind, which also is worth something, a husband has to provide completely for his wife; then even… even if the wife isn’t completely happy, she doesn’t have the right to… she doesn’t dare complain. (With heat.) If a woman is snatched away from poverty and smothered with concern for her needs and luxury then who can believe she’s unhappy? Ask my wife if I’m speaking the truth.
MME. VYSHNEVSKY. Your words are so clever and convincing they don’t need my agreement. (She leaves.)
ZHADOV. Not all women are like that.
VYSHNEVSKY. Almost all. Of course there are exceptions, but it’s not likely such an exception will fall your way. For that to happen a man has to live a bit, do some hunting around rather than, like you, fall in love with the first girl he meets. Listen, I’ll speak to you as a relative, because I’m sorry for you. What are you really thinking about your affairs? How are you and your wife going to live without means?
ZHADOV. I’ll live by working. My hope is that for me a peaceful conscience will take the place of earthly blessings.
VYSHNEVSKY. Your work won’t be enough to support a family. You won’t land a good job, because with your stupid ways you won’t know how to get on the good side of any of your superiors; instead you’ll turn them against you. And your peaceful conscience won’t save you from hunger either. Take note, my friend, luxury is noticeably spreading in society, but your Spartan virtues don’t get along well with luxury. Your mother entrusted you to my care, and I’m obliged to do all I can for you. For the last time this is my advice to you. Tone down your character a bit, give up those foolish ideas, give them up, they’re ridiculous. Work at your job the way all decent people do, that is, look at life and work in a practical way. Then I can help you with advice, with money, with influence. You’re no longer a child; you’re getting ready to be married.
ZHADOV. Never!
VYSHNEVSKY. How loud you said that… “Never!”… But it’s stupid all the same! I think you’ll come to your senses; I’ve seen a lot of cases like yours. Only watch out you’re not too late. Right now you have the opportunity and the patronage, but you might not have it later. You’ll ruin your career, your colleagues will pass you by, it will be hard for you to start again from scratch. I’m speaking to you as official to official.
ZHADOV. Never, never.
VYSHNEVSKY. All right then, live as you want, without backing. Don’t put your hopes on me any more. I’m sick and tired of talking with you.
ZHADOV. Oh God! My backing will come from public opinion.
VYSHNEVSKY. That’ll be the day! My friend, we don’t have any public opinion, and there can’t be any, not in your sense. Here’s public opinion for you: don’t get caught and you’re not a thief. Society doesn’t care what income you live on so long as you live in decent style and act respectably. But if you go without boots and lecture everybody on morality then don’t blame people if you’re not received in respectable homes or if you’re called light-minded or even harmful. I served in some of the chief provincial towns, and people there know each other better than in Moscow or St. Petersburg. They know what each man has and what he lives on, so it’s easier for public opinion to be formed. But no, people are people everywhere. Even there, in my very presence, they laughed at an official who lived on nothing but his salary; he had a large family, and the towns-people said he sewed his own coats. Even there the whole town respected the number-one bribetaker because he did a lot of entertaining and had evening parties twice a week.
ZHADOV. Is that really true?
VYSHNEVSKY. Live awhile, and you’ll find out. Let’s go, Akim Akimych. (He gets up.)
ZHADOV. Uncle!
VYSHNEVSKY. What is it?
ZHADOV. I have a small salary; I don’t have enough to get by on. There’s an opening now; let me fill it. I’m going to get married…
VYSHNEVSKY. Hm… For that position what I need is not a married man but one who’s capable. In all conscience I can’t give you a hi
gher salary. In the first place, you don’t deserve it, and in the second place, you’re my relative; they’ll consider it nepotism.
ZHADOV. As you wish. I’ll live on what means I have.
VYSHNEVSKY. My friend, you’re at it again! I’ll tell you once and for all; I don’t like the way you talk. Your words are cutting and disrespectful, and I don’t see any need for you to get so worked up. Don’t think I consider your opinions insulting—that would be too great an honor for you—I just consider them stupid. So then, aside from official dealings you can consider our relations finished.
ZHADOV. In that case I’d better transfer to another office.
VYSHNEVSKY. Please do. (He leaves.)
YUSOV (looking right at Zhadov). Ha, ha, ha, ha…
ZHADOV. What are you laughing at?
YUSOV. Ha, ha, ha… How can one help laughing? Who is it you’re arguing with? Ha, ha, ha! Has there ever been anything like it?
ZHADOV. What’s so funny about it?
YUSOV. Really now, is your uncle more stupid than you? Is he more stupid? Does he understand less about life than you? It’s all enough to make the hens laugh. You could make me die laughing. Have mercy, spare me, I have a family.
ZHADOV. Akim Akimych, you don’t understand this matter.
YUSOV. But there’s nothing to understand. You could bring in even a thousand men, and they’d all die laughing at you. Here you should be listening to such a man with your mouth wide open, not missing a single word, engraving what he says in your memory, but you have to argue! It’s really a comedy, honest to God it’s a comedy, ha, ha, ha… And your uncle gave you a good going over, hee, hee, hee, but it still wasn’t enough. Now if I were in his place… (He makes a strong grimace and goes off into the study.)
ZHADOV (alone, thoughtful). Go on, keep talking! I don’t believe you, I don’t believe that an educated man can’t provide for himself and his family through honest work. I don’t want to believe society is that corrupt! That’s the way old people have of trying to disillusion young people, by showing them everything in a bad light. Old people envy us because we look at life with a light heart and lots of hope. I understand you, Uncle. Now you’ve gotten everything, a big name and money, you don’t have to envy anybody. The only ones of us you envy are those with a clear conscience and a calm soul. You won’t buy that for any money. You can say what you want, but all the same I’m going to get married, and I’m going to live a happy life. (He leaves.)
Vyshnevsky and Yusov come out from the study.
VYSHNEVSKY. Who’s he going to marry?
YUSOV. The Kukushkin girl. She’s the daughter of a collegiate assessor’s widow.2
VYSHNEVSKY. Do you know the woman?
YUSOV. Yes, sir, I knew her husband. Belogubov wants to marry the other daughter.
VYSHNEVSKY. Well, Belogubov’s another matter. Anyway, you go see the woman. Make her see she shouldn’t ruin her daughter by letting her marry this idiot. (He nods and leaves.)
YUSOV (alone). What times we’ve come to! The things that go on in the world these days, you can’t believe your own eyes! How can one live in the world! Little boys have started to talk! And just who is talking? Just who is arguing? A nobody, that’s who! Just blow on him and phoo! (He blows.) There’s nobody there. And just who is he arguing with! A genius. Aristarkh Vladimirych is a genius… a genius, a Napoleon. He has a limitless mind, he’s quick, bold in his affairs. Just one deficiency, he’s not at all strong in the law, he came from another department. If, with his mind, Aristarkh Vladimirych knew the laws and all the ins and outs like his predecessor, well, that’s all… that’s all… no more needs to be said. You could follow him like a railroad. You could hitch onto him and be on your way. Promotion, decorations, all kinds of land, houses, settlements with virgin land… It takes your breath away! (He leaves.)
ACT TWO
A room in Mme. Kukushkin’s home. An ordinary living room, the kind found in homes of modest means. A door in the middle and one to the left. Julie and Pauline are standing before the mirror. Stesha is holding cleaning utensils.
STESHA. There, my young ladies are all set. Those suitors can come right now, the display is first rate. We can put on a great show. We wouldn’t even be ashamed to show them off to some general!
PAULINE. So then, Julie, let’s get to our posts. We’ll sit down the way bright young ladies sit. Mummy will come any time for the inspection. She wants to sell the goods at their best.
STESHA (wiping the dust). You can look as hard as you want, but everything’s in its place and neat as a pin.
JULIE. An inspector like her’ll find something.
They sit down.
STESHA (stooping in the middle of the room). That’s the way of it, young ladies, because of her you don’t have any life at all. She drills you and drills you like soldiers in training. She keeps you at attention all the time; all that’s missing is she doesn’t order you to lift your feet. And she takes it out on me too. She’s been after me all the time about that cleanliness of hers. (She wipes dust.)
JULIE. Do you like your suitor, your Vasily Nikolaich?
PAULINE. Oh, he’s a real darling! And do you like your Belogubov?
JULIE. No, he’s nothing but trash!
PAULINE. Then why don’t you tell Mama?
JULIE. That’s worse, God forbid! I’d jump for joy to marry him, just to get out of this house.
PAULINE. You’re right there. If Vasily Nikolaich hadn’t come along, I think I’d be only too glad to throw myself at the first man I’d meet. He wouldn’t have to be anything, just so he’d rescue me from my misery, take me from this house. (She laughs.)
STESHA (bending under the divan). It’s the suffering of the martyrs. It’s true, what you’re saying, miss.
PAULINE. There are some girls, Julie, who cry when they get married. How can they leave home! They mourn for every little nook. But you and I’d go to the end of the world right now if only some dragon would carry us off. (She laughs.)
STESHA. If I don’t wipe here I’ll get it from her. But who’s going to see anything here, who’d want to! (She wipes under the mirror.)
JULIE. You’re the lucky one, Pauline; everything’s funny to you, but I’m starting to think seriously about marriage. It’s easy enough to get married—we know how to pull that off, but one has to think how married life’ll be.
PAULINE. But what’s there to think about? It surely can’t be any worse than at home.
JULIE. Can’t be any worse! That’s not enough. It has to be better. If a woman’s going to get married then she should end up a true proper lady.
PAULINE. That would be very nice, nothing better, but how? You’re the smart one here, tell me how.
JULIE. You have to tell from what a man says what he’s putting his hopes on. If he doesn’t have something now, whether he has prospects. Just from what he says you can tell right off what kind of man he is. What does your Zhadov tell you when you’re alone with him?
PAULINE. Well, Julie, for the life of me I don’t understand a thing he says. He squeezes my hand hard and starts to talk… he wants to teach me something.
JULIE What?
PAULINE. I really don’t know, Julie. Something very deep. Wait, maybe I can remember something, only don’t laugh; the words are so funny. Hold on, now I remember! (Mimicking.) “What is the destination of women in society?” He talked about some kind of civic virtue. I don’t know what that is. They didn’t teach us that, did they?
JULIE. No, they didn’t teach us that.
PAULINE. He probably read it in those books they wouldn’t give us. You remember… in the boarding school? But then, to tell the truth, we didn’t read any books.
JULIE. That’s something to be sorry about! Even without books it’s boring enough! Now if we could only go for a ride or to the theater, that would be another matter.
PAULINE. Yes, sis, yes.
JULIE. We’ll have to face up to it, Pauline, there’s not much hope for your man.
Mine’s not like that.
PAULINE. What’s yours like?
JULIE. My Belogubov may be on the repulsive side, but he gives more hope. He says to me, “You’ll come to love me, miss. Now is not the time for me to get married, miss, but when they make me a department head, then I’ll get married.” I asked him what a department head was. He says, “It’s first-rate, miss.” So it must be something good. He says, “I may be uneducated, but I have lots of business with merchants, miss, and that means I’ll be bringing you silks and different materials from the market, and so far as provisions go, we’ll have everything, miss.” What about that? It’s very good, Pauline, let him bring the stuff. You don’t even have to think about it, you’ve got to marry a man like that.
PAULINE. My man mustn’t know any merchants, he didn’t say anything about it. Does that mean he won’t bring me anything?
JULIE. No, your man must have something too. After all, he’s an official, and all officials have things given them, whatever they want. Some married men get different kinds of material. For a bachelor it could be cloth, tricot. If a man has horses he gets oats or hay. Otherwise, money. Last time Belogubov was wearing a vest, you remember, the one with gay colors. A merchant gave him that; he told me so himself.
PAULINE. I’ll just have to ask Zhadov if he knows any merchants.
Mme. Kukushkin enters.
MME KUKUSHKIN. I can’t help bragging! I have it clean here, I have things in order, everything under control! (She sits down.) But what’s that? (She indicates to Stesha something under the divan.)
STESHA. Really, ma’am, I’m worn out, I broke my back for you.
MME KUKUSHKIN. How dare you talk like that, you nasty woman! That’s what you’re paid for. I get cleanliness, I get order, and I get absolute obedience. In return for the money you’re my slave.
The maid sweeps up and leaves.
Julie!
Julie stands up.
I want to talk to you.
JULIE. What do you want, Mama?
MME KUKUSHKIN. You know, young lady, I don’t have anything or any prospects of getting anything.
JULIE. I know, Mama.
Without a Dowry and Other Plays Page 3
