A Profitable Position oscillates between the business and social world of officialdom and the home life of officials and their families. This is so much the case that it would not be preposterous to consider the work two plays adroitly combined by Ostrovsky to give the impression of being one.
Established officialdom is represented by the hierarchical triumvirate of Vyshnevsky, Yusov, and Belogubov. Vyshnevsky, near the end of his life and career, understands only too well that some officials, himself included, could be answerable for corrupt practices. Yet he also cynically accepts corruption-tainted officialdom as too entrenched for someone like Zhadov to rebel against it, even if only verbally and in broad generalities.
Unlike Vyshnevsky, Yusov, one of Ostrovsky’s great satirical characters, does not understand what’s involved in the general scheme of things; he has profited so long from the present system that he without question accepts it as the best of all possible worlds. He does not consider the law to be above officialdom but rather its friend and ally. His only criticism of his boss Vyshnevsky, whom he much admires, is that he is “not at all strong in the law,” a factor undoubtedly contributing to Vyshnevsky’s ultimate downfall. Though Yusov accepts bribetaking as an innocent fringe benefit for officials in certain positions, the sky is not the limit, and an honorable official will never take a bribe without rendering the services expected.
Although Zhadov in terms of education is obviously more qualified for promotion than Belogubov, Yusov favors Belogubov because he has the “open mind” Zhadov lacks; that is, Belogubov is ready and willing to try to please his superiors. Moreover, the kindhearted Yusov will not discriminate against those handicapped by a lack of education, and he feels there is really no need for education since a good official can always find a brainy type to help out, as, for example, with spelling.
While the audience will consider Yusov criminal, he is not hypocritical in portraying himself to Mme. Kukushkin as a basically good man with nothing to be ashamed of. And in the delightful tavern scene when Belogubov, now ensconced in a “profitable position” and gratefully treating his mentor Yusov in celebration of his rise, has persuaded Yusov to let go and perform a solo dance, Yusov justifies his dancing: “I can dance. I’ve done everything in life that’s prescribed for a man. My soul’s at peace, my past doesn’t wear on me. I’ve provided for my family—so now I can dance.”
It is this self-righteousness and self-justification, the play suggests, that make Yusov more dangerous to society than Vyshnevsky. The Vyshnevskys are more apt to attract attention and be caught, but, more importantly, the Vyshnevskys might have misgivings and fears, whereas the Yusovs will have none, because their conscience is clean. They don’t see their bribetaking as a cause of harm to individuals; on the contrary they even see it as a help to them, and they have come to assume that what is good for themselves and their loved ones is not against the general interest.
The home front supporting the amoral official world is for the most part represented by Mme. Kukushkin, her like-minded daughter, Julie, and eventually by the converted Pauline. Mme. Kukushkin is another of Ostrovsky’s great satirical characters. A brilliant pragmatist, she knows exactly what she wants and how to get it singlemindedly. Her top priority is to marry off both daughters to officials who can give them the kind of idle and comfortable life for which she, like a good mother, has trained them.
Absolutely sure of herself and her beliefs, Mme. Kukushkin is never at a loss for words, sweet or abusive, but she also knows how to listen purposefully, and Yusov, a master in his own realm, is no match for her ingratiation. She finds Zhadov much more formidable, but her persistence prevails, and, with the help of Julie, she succeeds in alienating the married Pauline from him.
An important contribution Mme. Kukushkin makes to a better thematic understanding of the play is her attitude to bribetaking. Even though she is the widow of an official, the attention suddenly, for her, being given to bribe-taking astounds her, and she even claims that “bribe” is a new word: “Bribes! What kind of a word is that, bribes? They’ve thought it up themselves just to hurt good people. It’s not bribes but gratitude!”
Mme. Kukushkin has known about bribetaking, of course, but she has managed to put it out of her mind for the very simple reason that it is of no interest to her. What matters to her is not the means but the end result, that the husband-official uses his position (She doesn’t care how) to bring home the supplementary bacon. Indeed, the play itself is not primarily concerned with bribery per se (It has no bribegivers) but, as E. Kholodov points out, rather with the philosophy of self-interest.2 It just so happens that officials find bribetaking a convenient means at hand to serve their interests, and it serves Mme. Kukushkin’s interests to go along with this business, meanwhile reinforcing it with her own means, such as educating her daughters to reward their husbands with affection only if they measure up comme il faut and bring home what it takes.
Zhadov, Ostrovsky’s most quixotic character, applies to reality preconceived standards which for him require no proof. A born preacher, he feels that he has only to proclaim such standards and they will be accepted. Whereas Don Quixote discovered his standards by reading books on chivalry, Zhadov found his at the university.
Nevertheless, in his more realistic moments Zhadov realizes how ineffective he is. Just before capitulating to Pauline, he asks himself, “Why try to fight windmills!” His struggle is largely a matter of verbal, though not empty, gestures. For most of the play he does not yield to despair, maintaing his faith in man’s goodness and intelligence, convinced or at least hoping that ultimately education and public opinion will bring about needed reform. At the end Vyshnevsky denounces Zhadov for betraying his (Zhadov’s) ideals. However, Zhadov has never abandoned them in principle and blames his wavering on personal weakness. At the same time, he was never quite so strong in his beliefs as his usual preachy stance would have suggested. He tells Vyshnevsky in Act One, “But I can’t part with my convictions; they’re my sole consolation in life” (italics mine). True, he does have faith in the power of public opinion to help bring about justice. But that faith is characterized by hope as much as certainty, the desired justice being projected into a future not near.
And yet, if I may qualify even more, Zhadov does demonstrate some heroism in his social context, and he suffers for his honesty both before and after his marriage. The main trouble is that in the system depicted by Ostrovsky Zhadov has no middle course open to him. As the scholar E. Kholodov so eloquently puts it, the play condemns “an existence, in which a man has to be a hero so as not to become a scoundrel.”3 The play begins and, to some extent, ends with Mme. Vyshnevsky’s marital situation, easily the weakest element in the play, if only because she is so long-winded. Ostrovsky portrays Mme. Vyshnevsky sympathetically for her noble character and as a spiritual ally of Zhadov, but, for all that, her role is contrived and a bit confusing. Though her infatuation, while married, with the now-deceased idealist Lyubimov is believable enough in itself, Ostrovsky could not go into the matter sufficiently because Lyubimov was either a revolutionary or was considered such. He had probably been exiled as a dangerously liberal thinker, for Mme. Vyshnevsky at one point in the original version says that Lyubimov “died far away,” words later deleted by the censor. While Lyubimov might have been used, then, as a complement to Zhadov, in actuality he is a distraction. As indeed in the overall pattern are Mme. Vyshnevsky and her domestic situation.
After four slow acts the final act comes as something of a blow to the audience. It starts with an unusually long soliloquy by Mme. Vyshnvesky but then suddenly shifts into a series of fireworks. Yusov informs Mme. Vyshnevsky that Vyshnevsky has been charged with malfeasance. Vyshnevsky, informed of Mme. Vyshnevsky’s infatuation with Lyubimov, denounces her, provoking her spirited defense. Zhadov asks his uncle for a “profitable position,” but when he learns that Vyshnevsky can no longer give it to him, he reverts to his idealistic stance, and Pauline makes up with him. The curt
ain falls with Yusov’s announcement that Vyshnevsky, now offstage, has just had a stroke which at his age might be fatal.
The radical critic and writer Nicholas Chernyshevsky felt that artistically the play would better have ended with Zhadov’s capitulation at the end of Act Four. I agree. The main burden of the first four acts is to show that Zhadov, mostly because of the strength of the opposition, has no real chance to initiate reform or even to live decently. Act Five largely turns the situation around. With regard to Zhadov we are basically back where we started, though, thanks to Ostrovsky’s authorial omnipotence, things are even a bit better for Zhadov, since he suddenly has a wife apparently willing to forgo the good life, after all. Yet, in fairness to Ostrovsky, it is quite possible, in my view likely, that he wrote Act Five to appease the censor, judging that if the play had ended with Zhadov’s capitulation, it would have spotlighted government corruption in a way the hypersensitive censorhip of the time would have considered too merciless. Ostrovsky may well have felt that he had no choice but to try to soften the play’s basic impact.
The basic play (Acts 1-4) has a minuscule plot, proving, if proof be needed, that a good plot development is not a binding requirement for a play’s success. As Pushkin’s friend and fellow poet Baron Delvig said in relation to Pushkin’s play, Boris Godunov, “Don’t judge it by the rules but by the impression it makes on you.” And Leo Tolstoy tacitly agreed, when he wrote to Ostrovsky, “This is a colossal thing because of its depth and power, its contemporary significance, and the irreproachable role of Yusov.”
NOTES
1. In P. M. Nevezhin’s recollections of Ostrovsky he noted that Ostrovsky more than once joked bitterly, “If I hadn’t been in such a mess, I probably wouldn’t have written A Profitable Position.” A. N. Ostrovskii v vospominaniiakh sovremennikov, 1966, 262.
2. E. Kholodov, Dramaturg na vse vremena, 1975, 340.
3. Ibid., 342.
AN ARDENT HEART
A Comedy in Five Acts
(1869)
CAST OF CHARACTERS*
PAVLÍN PAVLÍNYCH KUROSLÉPOV, a merchant of standing.
MATRYÓNA KHARITÓNOVNA KUROSLÉPOV, his wife.
PARÁSHA (her given name PRASKÓVYA is used on occasion), his daughter by his first wife.
NARKÍS, Kuroslepov’s assistant at home.
GAVRÍLO (GAVRÍK, GAVRÍLKA, GAVREILUSHKA, GAVRYÚSHKA), Kuroslepov’s assistant at the shop.
VÁSYA (VÁSKA, VÁSYENKA, VASÍLY) SHÚSTRY, son of a recently ruined merchant.
SILÁN (SILÁNTY), a distant relative of Kuroslepov. Yard keeper.
SERAPIÓN MARDÁRYICH GRADOBÓEV, Chief of Police.**
SIDORÉNKO, a police officer and Gradoboev’s clerk.
ZHIGUNÓV (pronounced Zhigunóff), a policeman on general and sentry-box duty.
ARISTÁRKH (ALISTÁRKH, LISTÁRKH), a middle-class citizen.
TARÁKH TARÁSYCH KHLÝNOV, a rich contractor.
MAIDSERVANT.
GENTLEMAN, with a large mustache.
MIDDLE-CLASS CITIZENS: FIRST, SECOND, THIRD.
ROWERS, SINGERS, INVALID SOLDIERS, PRISONERS, DOMESTIC SERVANTS, KHLYNOV’S SERVANTS, PASSERS-BY, LABORERS, POLICEMEN, VARIOUS PEOPLE.
* Meanings which probably or possibly would be suggested to Ostrovsky’s contemporaries: Kuroslepov—night blindness; Shustry—quick, lively; Gradoboev—city beater; Zhigunov—lasher; Khlynov—profiteer or scoundrel.
** “Chief of Police” is used here for the Russian term gorodnichii, chief official in Russian provincial towns from 1775 to 1862. The term has often been translated as “mayor”, but I prefer to adopt the English term used by John L. Seymour and George R. Noyes in their translation of Gogol’s The Inspector. The function of the gorodnichii was largely a police function, a function characteristic of Gradoboev in this play.
ACT ONE
A yard. To the spectators’ right is a house porch with a door onto the room where Kuroslepov’s assistants live. To the left is a wing in front of which are a fence section, bushes, a large tree, a table, and a bench. In the background is a gate. It is a summer evening, after seven. The action takes place about thirty years ago1 in the provincial town Kalinov.2 Gavrilo is sitting on the bench with a guitar. Silan is standing nearby with a broom.
SILAN. Did you hear something’s missing?
GAVRILO. I heard.
SILAN. And that missing business is a load on me. Because of that, my friends, you assistants have got to toe the line with me, be home by nine, that’s when I lock the gate. And if anybody’s climbing over the fence at night, well he’d just better give it up because I’ll grab him by the collar and straight to the master with him.
GAVRILO. When you want to, you can really be a character.
SILAN. It’s my job. I could be told on, and who knows what he’d do? Right now I’m extraordinary mean, so mean, it’s awful!
Gavrilo strums on the guitar. Silan silently looks at Gavrilo’s hands.
Are you getting to it?
GAVRILO. I’m getting to it. (He sings to his own accompaniment.)
Neither Papa, neither Mama,
No one’s home, nobody’s here.
No one’s home, nobody’s here.
Through the window climb, my dear.3
SILAN. That’s a grand song.
GAVRILO. It’s really a wonderful song, you can sing it in all kinds of company. Only it goes awfully fast… you’ve got to watch sharp! See? It’s not coming out right, what can you do!
SILAN. What I think, my friend, is you’d better give up on all this business.
GAVRILO. But why give it up, Silanty? Just think of all the work I’ve put into it.
SILAN. And what you’ve gotten out of it is a lot of pain and trouble.
GAVRILO. I don’t mind the pain, but it’s true there’s been a lot of damage. Because the guitar’s a delicate instrerment.
SILAN. All you have to do is up and smash it on the stove, and that’s the end of it.
GAVRILO. That would be the end, my friend, the end. And all that money down the drain.
SILAN. On the stove, eh? And you know what the master’s taken it into his head to do. No sooner does he set eyes on a guitar like this than he smashes it right then and there on the stove! It’s really something!
GAVRILO (with a sigh). Only it’s not always on the stove, Silanty. He broke two of them on my head.
SILAN. That really must have been funny. We could hear the bang all through the house.
GAVRILO. It might have been funny for some people, but for me…
SILAN. You mean it hurt? Of course it would if he hit you with the edge…
GAVRILO. Even if it wasn’t the edge… But I won’t get after anybody for that, it’s my own head, I didn’t have to pay for it. But for those guitars I had to pay real money.
SILAN. And that’s the honest truth. A head can ache and ache, and it’ll heal up. But a guitar now, you won’t heal that.
GAVRILO. You know what, maybe I should just clear out of here! So long as the master doesn’t see me.
SILAN. How could he do that! He’s asleep, as he ordinary is. He sleeps nights, he sleeps days. He’s slept so much he doesn’t understand a thing, doesn’t see what’s right under his nose. When he’s just waked up, then what’s really happened and what he’s dreamed about, he gets them all mixed up, he just mumbles something. And then he gets straightened out.
GAVRILO (sings loudly).
Neither Papa, neither Mama,
No one’s home, nobody’s here.
Kuroslepov comes out onto the porch.
SILAN. Stop that! I think he’s coming out! He is! You better leave if you don’t want trouble. No, better stay. Hide yourself somewhere here. He won’t go beyond the porch, he’s too lazy.
Gavrilo hides.
KUROSLEPOV (sits down on the porch and yawns awhile). And why was the sky falling? So if it falls it falls. Or was I dreaming it? Just try and guess what’s going on in the world—is it morning or evening? And n
o one about, damn ‘em!… Matryona! Nobody home, nobody in the yard, the hell with ‘em!… Matryona! That’s when it’s so horrible, when you don’t know what’s going on in the world… It’s frightening. Was that a dream or what? There was a lot of wood stacked up, it seems, and devils. So I ask them, “What’s the wood for?” And they say it’s to roast sinners. Am I really in hell? Where did everybody disappear to? And how frightened I am today! And that sky, is it falling again? It is, it’s falling… Oh God! And now there’s sparks. What if right now it’s the end of the world! And no wonder! It could all easily happen because… there was a smell of tar somewhere, and somebody was singing with a wild voice, and there was a sound of strings or maybe a trumpet… I just don’t understand.
The town clock strikes.
One, two, three, four, five (he counts without listening), six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.
The clock stops striking after striking eight.
Is that all? Fifteen!… My God! My God! We’ve lived to see that! Fifteen! What we’ve lived to! Fifteen! And it’s still not enough for our sins! What next! Should I go take a drink in any case? But then people say it’s at just such a time that it’s worse, that a man ought to go with a clean conscience… (He shouts.) Silanty, hey!
Without a Dowry and Other Plays Page 10
