ALEXANDER. As you put it, Uncle, it looks as if I myself don’t know why I came.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. That’s just about it.
ALEXANDER. I’ll tell you. I was drawn by an irresistible striving, a thirst for noble activity. There surged in me the desire to clarify and realize… these hopes…
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Do you perhaps write poetry?
ALEXANDER. And prose, Uncle… May I show you?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. No, no, some time later. I was just asking.
ALEXANDER. But why?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Just the way you talk…
ALEXANDER. Is it bad then?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. No, maybe it’s good, but wild… It seems you want to say, insofar as I can understand, that you came here to seek your fortune, rise in the world.
ALEXANDER. If you choose to understand it that way…
PYOTR IVANOVICH. A good idea, but you came in vain…
ALEXANDER. Why? I hope you’re not saying that from your own experience.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. A reply to the point… You’re right. I’ve done well and my business is not doing badly. But as far as I can see, you and I are very different people.
ALEXANDER. I don’t dare compare myself with you at all.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. That’s not the point. You may be ten times better and brighter than I. But I see you’ve been protected. How are you to endure what I have endured?
ALEXANDER. Perhaps I can accomplish something if you don’t deprive me of your advice and experience.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. I’m afraid to advise you. But I won’t refuse to give you my opinion, if you wish. You can listen or not, as you desire.
ALEXANDER. I shall try to adapt to a contemporary view, Uncle. Just today, looking at these enormous buildings and ships, I thought about the achievements of contemporary humanity; I understood the excitement of this rationally busy crowd…
PYOTR IVANOVICH. “The rationally busy crowd!” Indeed, you had better stayed home! Do you perhaps know that the likes of you, promising young men, have come to the capital not by the tens or the hundreds but by the thousands. They all have a thirst for noble activity, success, and fortune… And where are they now?
ALEXANDER. I hope I have enough courage and strength…
PYOTR IVANOVICH ( interrupting ). Well, it’s good you’ve come, you can’t turn back… Let’s see, perhaps we’ll succeed in making something of you… What’s this you’ve dropped? What is it?
ALEXANDER ( picking up a little packet he had dropped from the desk ). It’s nothing…
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Hair, it seems. Truly, nothing… So I’ve seen one thing; now show me what you’ve hidden in your hand. (Alexander opens his fist and shows a ring in his hand. )What’s this? Where is it from?
ALEXANDER. These, Uncle, are material tokens of spiritual relationships.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. What? Let me see these tokens.
ALEXANDER. From Sofiya, Uncle. She gave them to me in parting to remember her by.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. And you brought these things nine hundred miles! You’d have done better to brink a sack of dried raspberries! (He takes the lock of hair and the ring, weighs them on his palm, wraps them in a bit of paper and throws them out the window. )
ALEXANDER ( cries out ). Uncle!
PYOTR IVANOVICH. What?
ALEXANDER. What’s a name for what you’ve done?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Ejection of non-material tokens out the window and into the canal–all kinds of junk and trifles.
ALEXANDER. You call these “trifles”!
PYOTR IVANOVICH. And what did you think they were? Half of your heart? I come to see him on business and what’s he busy with here? Sitting and thinking about junk.
ALEXANDER. Does that interfere with business, Uncle?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Very much. Time is passing and you have Sofiya and her tokens on your mind. You must forget Sofiya and her tokens now.
ALEXANDER ( firmly ). I shall never forget her, Uncle!
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Of course. Why, if I hadn’t thrown away your keepsakes, you’d have remembered her for, say, one extra month.
ALEXANDER. Have you never loved anyone?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. I couldn’t stand tokens.
ALEXANDER. But, in my opinion, the sacred emotion of love…
PYOTR IVANOVICH. I know this sacred love… At your age you need only see a lock of hair, a tiny shoe, a garter, or touch a hand–and sacred, uplifting love begins to run through your whole body. Give it reign, and soon… Your love, unfortunately, lies in the future; there’s no way to escape it. But accomplishment will escape you if you don’t begin to work at it… I’ve almost found a job for you.
ALEXANDER. You’ve found one! Uncle, I’m most grateful to you. (He kisses his uncle on the cheek. )
PYOTR IVANOVICH ( wiping his cheek with a handkerchief ). You seized your opportunity… Why wasn’t I on my guard? Well, listen now. Tell me what you know, what do you think yourself fitted for?
ALEXANDER. I know theology, civil, criminal, natural and common law, diplomacy, political economy, philosophy, aesthetics, archeology…
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Hold on, hold on… But do you know how to write decently in Russian?
ALEXANDER. What a question! (Goes out to the entryway and looks for certain papers in a small trunk. )
PYOTR IVANOVICH ( lights a cigar with a sheet of paper; takes the letter Alexander was writing, glances through it, and reads aloud ): “My uncle is a good man, it seems, very intelligent, but altogether prosaic; he’s always busy with business and calculations. All impulses of love and friendship are quite foreign to him, as is all striving for beauty. Sometimes I see something like Pushkin’s demon in him. He doesn’t believe in love and the like, says there is no happiness, and no one ever promised it. There is only life, which is divided equally between good and evil, that is, contentment, success, health, and quiet, on the one hand, and discontent, failure, anxiety, illness, and so forth, on the other. He doesn’t have any strong impressions and doesn’t love beauty, it seems. I don’t think he has read even Pushkin…”
ALEXANDER ( returning with manuscripts, horrified ). What are you reading, Uncle?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. A letter to some Pospelov was lying here–probably your friend… Excuse me, I wanted to take a look at how you write.
ALEXANDER. And you read it all?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Yes, almost. Why?
ALEXANDER. Oh, my goodness! (Covers his face with his hands. )
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Why what’s wrong, what’s the matter with you?
ALEXANDER. And you say that calmly–aren’t you angry, don’t you hate me?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. No. Why should I fly into a rage?
ALEXANDER. Aren’t you angry? Prove it, Uncle.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. What do you want me to do?
ALEXANDER. Embrace me.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Forgive me, I can’t.
ALEXANDER. Why?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Because there’s no rhyme or reason for such behavior. Now if you were a woman, it would be another matter; in that case it’s done without reason, prompted by another impulse.
ALEXANDER. And you don’t think me a monster?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Do you think whoever writes nonsense is a monster?
ALEXANDER. But to read such bitter truths about yourself…
PYOTR IVANOVICH. You imagine you wrote the truth?
ALEXANDER. I was mistaken, of course. I’ll correct it.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Do you want me to dictate the truth to you?
ALEXANDER. Of course.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Sit down and write. (Alexander sits down at the desk, takes pen and paper. )“Dear friend,” have you got that? “My uncle isn’t stupid or mean; he wants the best for me…”
ALEXANDER ( jumping up ). Uncle, I know enough to appreciate…
PYOTR IVANOVICH ( dictating ).“…though he doesn’t throw himself around my neck. He says he doesn’t love me, and with good reason–you can’t
begin to love someone in two weeks. And I don’t love him yet, though I assure him I do…”
ALEXANDER. That’s not so, Uncle!
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Don’t lie, don’t lie! “But we’re beginning to get accustomed to each other.” Have you got that?
ALEXANDER. I have.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Well, what else do you have here? “Matter-of-fact spirit… demon.” Write: “My uncle’s neither a demon, nor an angel, but a human being like everybody. He thinks and feels in an earthly fashion, assuming that if we live on earth, then we mustn’t fly away to heaven where we’re not wanted for the time being, but instead we should busy ourselves with those human affairs to which we’re called. He assures me I’ll forget you and you me. This seems crazy to me and probably to you too, but he advises me to get used to the idea so we both won’t fool ourselves. Uncle likes to be doing things and advises me to do the same, and I so advise you. He’s not always thinking about his government work and his factory, and he knows Pushkin and more by heart.”
ALEXANDER. You do, Uncle?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Write… “He reads in two languages everything good that comes out in all fields of human knowledge. He loves art and often goes to the theater. But he doesn’t run about, waste his time, cry ‘oh’ and ‘ah,’ because he finds that childish. He thinks you have to control yourself and not foist your impressions on someone else because no one else needs them. Also, he doesn’t talk wildly and advises me not to, and I advise you not to. Write me less often and don’t expend your time for nothing.” Your friend so-and-so. And the month and day.
ALEXANDER. How can I send a letter like that: “Write less often”?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. I’m only telling you my opinion. You asked me to yourself; I shan’t make you send it–I’m not your nanny. (Alexander looks for another letter. )Are you looking for something?
ALEXANDER. I’m looking for the other letter–to Sofiya.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Where is it? Really, I didn’t throw it out the window.
ALEXANDER. Uncle! Look, you lit your cigar with it!
PYOTR IVANOVICH. I did? Now how could I do that… and not notice… Just imagine, I burned up such a treasure. Well, then… You are able to write Russian. Tomorrow we’ll go to the government offices… And what’s this pile of papers you’ve dragged out? (He points to the papers Alexander has brought in from the hall. )
ALEXANDER. These are my scholarly papers. I would like to show them to the department head. Especially one project I worked on…
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Ah… one of those projects which was completed a thousand years ago or else is impossible and not necessary to complete.
ALEXANDER. How will my department head find out about my capabilities?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. He’ll know in a flash. He’s a master at finding out. And what job do you want to take on?
ALEXANDER. I don’t know, Uncle, what I should…
PYOTR IVANOVICH. There are jobs for ministers of state, their deputies, directors, vice-directors, department heads, head clerks, their assistants, civil servants with special portfolio, to name but a few…
ALEXANDER. Well, for the beginning, the job of head clerk sounds good…
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Of course, of course… Then three months later you’re promoted to director and in a year minister. Is that your idea?
ALEXANDER. The department head has probably told you where there’s a vacancy…
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Yes, we’d better rely on him, or he’ll doubtless be offended, and he’s a stickler for the rules. He’s a stern taskmaster… What else do you have there?
ALEXANDER. You asked me to show you my poetry.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. I did? Somehow I don’t remember.
ALEXANDER. I think my job is one thing, but my soul thirsts for…
PYOTR IVANOVICH. You mean, beside your government job you want to work at something else. Well, how about translation? That’s very laudable. Of what? Literature?
ALEXANDER. Yes, Uncle.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Are you sure you have talent?
ALEXANDER. I hope…
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Without it, you know, you’ll be a menial in art, and what’s the use of that? Talent–that’s something else again. You can go far with that. And, besides, it’s money in the bank. It’s worth a hundred serfs.
ALEXANDER. You measure talent in terms of money?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. How else would you suggest? The more they read you, the more money they pay you… Show me what you have there.
…Hiding in the ether
Stars tremble in unsteady gleaming,
And, as if in mutual accord,
Keep strict silence…
(Reads the rest to himself. Yawns. )Not bad, not good.
ALEXANDER. Here’s a translation from Schiller.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Enough… So you know some languages too?
ALEXANDER. I know French, German, and a little English.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Congratulations! You should have said so long ago. This isn’t a time for modesty. I’ll find you some literary work right away.
ALEXANDER. That will be wonderful! I have a desire to express so much…
PYOTR IVANOVICH. Listen, make me a gift of your projects and works.
ALEXANDER. A gift? Gladly, Uncle. I’ll make a table of contents of all my articles in chronological order.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you for the gift… Evsei! (Evsei enters. )Take these papers to my servant Vasily.
ALEXANDER. Why Vasily? I can take them to your study myself.
PYOTR IVANOVICH. He asked me for the wherewithal to paper some wall or other.
ALEXANDER. Wallpaper?
PYOTR IVANOVICH. You’ve made a present of them now. And what do you care what use I make of your present?
ALEXANDER ( pressing his papers to his breast in despair ). But these are my works, my dreams, my…
PYOTR IVANOVICH ( forcefully pulling the papers away from him ). Listen to me, Alexander. Later you won’t blush and you’ll thank me. There, take them away, Evsei… ( Evsei exits. )Well, now it’s nice and clean in your room, no trifles. It’s up to you whether you fill it with trash or something useful. Let’s go to the factory–we’ll walk around, distract ourselves and take a look at how they work there. Begin a new life, Alexander, begin anew! Petersburg is a beautiful but hard city. Don’t expect concessions from it. (Alexander stands and covers his face with his hands. )Well, are you coming with me?
ALEXANDER ( quietly, softly ). I’m coming, Uncle…
SCENE 4
On the stage there are only single desks. Government clerks sit behind the desks. Enter the head of the department and with him Alexander. The clerks’ pens begin to scratch more diligently.
DEPARTMENT HEAD. Ivan Ivanovich! (One clerk jumps up from his desk, runs over to the department head, stands at attention. )Pass me your snuff box! (Ivan Ivanovich offers his snuff box. The department head takes a pinch and sniffs it. He points to Alexander. )Try him out!
IVAN IVANOVICH ( to Alexander ). If you please… ( Leads Alexander to a desk. )Do you have a good hand?
ALEXANDER. Hand?
IVAN IVANOVICH. Yes, handwriting. Here, try copying this document. (Alexander writes. Ivan Ivanovich takes the document, looks at it and goes to the department head. )He writes badly, Sir…
DEPARTMENT HEAD ( inspecting the document ). Yes, it’s bad. He can’t do originals. Well, let him copy leaves of absence for the time being, and then when he’s gotten a bit more accustomed, give him documents. Perhaps he’ll do. (Exits. )
IVAN IVANOVICH ( takes Alexander to an empty desk, shows him a chair ). Please… ( Moves a pile of documents over to him. )Copy these… ( Alexander sits down at the desk and writes. Ivan Ivanovich walks around him, watches how he writes. )You must put in a hyphen here.
ALEXANDER. And is the way I wrote it really worse?
IVAN IVANOVICH. Maybe it’s even better, but you can’t do that here.
ALEXAND
ER. Why?
IVAN IVANOVICH. You can’t.
ALEXANDER. Do you pretend doing it your way changes anything?
IVAN IVANOVICH. A lot.
ALEXANDER. What?
IVAN IVANOVICH. The rules. So, please, no innovations.
ALEXANDER ( writes, speaks quietly ). You have to be patient, patient.
SCENE 5
A garden at the Lyubetsky’s country cottage. A summer-house, a bench, bushes. Nadenka with a cup of milk in her hands.
ALEXANDER ( rushing in ). Nadezhda Alexandrovna!
NADENKA. Alexander Fyodorovich!
ALEXANDER. You were waiting for me! Heavens, how happy I am!
NADENKA. I was waiting for you? I wouldn’t dream of it! You know I’m always in the garden.
ALEXANDER. Are you angry?
NADENKA. What for? What an idea!
ALEXANDER. Give me your hand then… What’s this, you’re drinking milk?
NADENKA. I’m having dinner.
ALEXANDER. You’re having dinner at six o’clock and dining on milk!
NADENKA. Of course you find milk a strange thing for dinner after your luxurious meal at your uncle’s. But here in the country we live modestly.
ALEXANDER. I didn’t have dinner at Uncle’s. I told him yesterday I wasn’t coming.
NADENKA. Where have you been till now?
ALEXANDER. I sat through the day at the office, until four o’clock.
NADENKA. But it’s six now. Don’t lie; admit you were tempted by dinner and the pleasant company.
ALEXANDER. Word of honor, I didn’t go to Uncle’s… If I had, then how could I have gotten here by now?
NADENKA. Do you think this is early? (Alexander tries to come close to Nadenka. )Don’t come near me. I can’t bear to look at you!
ALEXANDER. Enough of playing games, Nadezhda Alexandrovna!
NADENKA. I’m not playing games at all… Tell me where you’ve been till now!
ALEXANDER. I ate a quick meal in a restaurant…
NADENKA. Quick you say! Poor thing! You must be hungry. Do you want some milk?
ALEXANDER. Oh, give me, give me your cup… ( Stretches out his hand, but Nadenka finishes drinking the milk and turns the cup upside down. )
An Ordinary Story Page 40
