by Brian Friel
Arkady How is Arina Vlassyevna?
Vassily She’ll be with us in a while. Arina Vlassyevna is – what’s the cliché? – she is as comfortable as can be expected – everything considered – considering everything. But we were discussing that lunch, weren’t we? Oh, that was a memorable occasion. Do you happen to remember a boy who helped at table that day? – a very young boy? – in his bare feet? – Fedka? I have a confession to make about Fedka: Fedka wasn’t a servant of ours at all. We hired Fedka for that occasion. To impress you, my friend. To give Yevgeny’s background that tiny bit of extra weight. Vanitas vanitatum et omnia vanitas. Ecclesiastes, I think. But don’t trust me on that. I can still quote with some accuracy but the attribution … the attribution seems to … That lunch, yes. And Fedka. I had asked Father Alexei could he recommend somebody. And what did he present us with? – the butcher’s second son with the running nose and not a shoe to his name – in a manner of speaking. Serving at the table, barefoot! Good Lord. I can laugh at it now. I remember I said, ‘Arkady Nikolayevich will think he’s staying with some sort of primitives.’ And Yevgeny lifted his head – you know how he lifts his face and turns it slightly sideways – and gave me that sharp, quick eye of his – and he said – he said – and nobody’s wittier than Yevgeny as you well know – he lifted his head and he gave me – gave me – (He breaks down: sudden, uncontrollable sobbing. He recovers almost immediately.) I should pray to God, they say. How can I go on? – that’s what I say to God. How do you expect me to go on? – I say. What do you think we’re made of? – I say.
Pause.
Arkady It was very late when I got back from Petersburg. My father was waiting up for me. ‘I’ve got very bad news for you, son. I can’t tell you how bad the news is.’ ‘It’s Bazarov,’ I said. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s Bazarov.’
Pause.
Vassily At the end of that first week there were so many people sick and dying that we decided to split up: he took the whole town and the region to the north and west. I had the south and east. Some nights he didn’t get home at all. And when the epidemic spread to the neighbouring province we didn’t see him for days on end. ‘All for the bloody peasants,’ he said to me. ‘Everything for the bloody peasants, damn them!’ And then I came in this night – it was Friday – amn’t I correct, my pet? There was a light under his bedroom door. And I was tiptoeing past when he called me. He was sitting up in the bed, propped up against the pillow; and even though the candle was behind his head the first thing I noticed was how bright, how bright his eyes shone. And he said in that ironic tone of his, ‘Father,’ he said, ‘I’m going to make you a present of a much larger practice. I’m going to present you with the town and the region to the north and west.’ ‘What does that mean?’ I said. (His voice begins to waver.) ‘It means,’ he said – ‘It means,’ he said – ‘It means that I’m considering retiring. What’s your opinion of this, Dr Bazarov? Does it look like typhus?’ And he pulled up the sleeve of his night-shirt and held his bare arm over to the candle and there were the purple blotches.
Arkady is now crying quietly.
Arkady I’m sorry for behaving like this …
Vassily There was nothing we could do. His mother made him lime-flower tea and she tried to feed him spoonfuls of beetroot and cabbage soup. But he was too weak to swallow anything. And the next morning – that was Sunday – amn’t I right, my pet? – yes, I am – that was Sunday – he opened his eyes and said, ‘Do something for me, Father. Send a messenger to Anna Sergeyevna Odintsov and tell her that Yevgeny Vassilyich Bazarov is dying.’
Arkady All Katya knew was that a messenger came to the house and that within five minutes Anna was gone.
Vassily And late that same evening a grey carriage with red wheels and drawn by four horses drew up at our door and a footman in dark green livery opened the carriage door and this lady in a black veil and a black mantle got out. She told me she was Anna Sergeyevna Odintsov and asked to see my son. I argued with her. I said it was too dangerous. But she was determined. So I brought her to him. I left them together. She stayed with him for half an hour. He was too weak to talk. She just sat with him and held his hand.
Arkady Nobody has seen her since. She didn’t go home when she left here. She sent the carriage home and she went on to Moscow. She probably wants to be by herself for a while.
Vassily He passed away that same evening. His mother sent for Father Alexei. He was dead by then but Father Alexei gave him the last rites anyway.
Arkady My father didn’t know what to do. I was somewhere in the Petersburg area buying a new thresher – that’s all he knew. But where I was staying – how to get in touch with me – he was at his wits’ end. Finally he sent Piotr to look for me – just to walk the streets of Petersburg and look for me. And all the time I was in our old flat. That never occurred to them.
Vassily We tried to get word to some friends. Timofeich did the best he could. I thought it best to have a short wake because of the nature of the illness and because his mother was a little … perturbata. So we buried him on Monday morning, early. A quiet funeral; his mother, Father Alexei, Timofeich, myself. And Fedka, the worthy Fedka, properly shod. It was nice of him to come. And brave. A few prayers. Flowers. The usual. I’ll take you there if you wish. It’s only a ten-minute walk. But if you prefer not … some people find cemeteries … difficult. There’s something not right about a father burying his son, isn’t there? Some disorder in the proper ordering of things, isn’t it? It’s not the way things should be, is it?
Arkady He was the best friend I ever had, Vassily Ivanyich.
Pause.
Vassily (almost in a whisper but with a sudden and astonishing passion) Damn you, Almighty Father! I will not stand for it! I certainly will not stand for it!
Arkady He was the only real friend I ever had.
Vassily What’s that?
Arkady (suddenly resolute) I’m going to carry on his work, Vassily Ivanyich! I’m going to dedicate myself to his memory and to the work he was so involved in! I have none of his brains and none of his talent. But whatever talent I have and whatever energy I have I will give to the revolution, to Bazarov’s revolution.
Vassily (dreamily) Oh, yes. Politics are very important.
Arkady He never thought I was capable of much. But I am! I am! And I am now more than ever because I’m doing it for him!
Vassily pats him on the shoulder.
Vassily Every so often he would regain consciousness. One time he opened his eyes and he said, ‘I am no loss to Russia. A cobbler would be a loss to Russia. A butcher would be a loss. A tailor would be a loss. I am no loss.’ It never occurred to him the loss he’d be to his mother and me.
Arkady If you would take me to the cemetery, I’d like to make my solemn promise to him there.
Arina enters, her hair dishevelled, wearing slippers and an odd assortment of clothes. When she enters her face is vacant. Then she sees Vassily and she smiles. Vassily greets her with great warmth and enthusiasm. Arkady gets to his feet.
Vassily Ah – Arina! Now that’s an improvement! Now you’re looking really well, my pet! Do you know that you slept for almost three hours? And who’s going to do the housework if my wife lies in bed and spends the day sleeping? Tell me that, my sweet and beautiful wife? And look who’s here! Look who’s come to see us!
She looks blankly at Arkady.
Yes! It’s Arkady, my pet! It is, indeed! Arkady Nikolayevich! The very moment he heard he came straight over. He was afraid he’d have to leave without seeing you.
Arkady All I can say, Arina Vlassyevna – (He begins to cry again.) – all I can say is that – that – that – that I’m shattered, just shattered.
Vassily We’ve looked after ourselves as you can see. But what we’ve got to do now is get you something to eat. What can I offer you? What would tempt you? I have it! Arina Vlassyevna is partial to a cup of blackcurrant tea! The very thing!
Arkady I’ll never forgive myself that
I wasn’t here. I was away in Petersburg. I didn’t hear a thing until late last night.
Vassily (breezy, busy) One small cup of blackcurrant tea and two very tiny but very appetizing home-made biscuits – that’s what this aristocratic lady requires and that is what she is going to eat. What does Cicero say? Tantum cibi et potionis – we should drink and eat just enough to restore our strength – no more, no less.
Arkady I can’t tell you how devastated I am. I know I’ll never get over it.
Arina now sits. Pause. She looks at Arkady as if she were trying to remember him, as if she were going to speak to him. Her face is placid, child-like, almost smiling. And when she sings it is the gentle, high-pitched voice of a very young girl.
Arina (singing) Te Deum laudamus: te Dominum confitemur. Te aeternum Patrem omnis terra veneratur.
As soon as she begins singing Arkady looks in alarm at Vassily. Vassily responds by putting his finger to his lips and shaking his head as if to say – Say nothing; don’t interrupt. Then he sits beside his wife, puts both arms round her, and sings with her and directly to her:
Vassily and Arina Tibi omnes Angeli, tibi Caeli et universae Potestates. Tibi Cherubim et Seraphim incessabili voce proclament: Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus, Dominus Deus Sabaoth.
Slowly bring down the lights as they sing together.
SCENE FOUR
After dinner. Early October. The lawn-garden in front of the Kirsanov home.
Arkady is standing at the piano and singing ‘Drink to me only’. He sight-reads the words. Katya accompanies him. Anna sits by herself in the living-room, listening to the music.
Pavel stands on the veranda.
Pavel (singing very softly)
‘But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.’
Fenichka Very nice, Pavel.
Pavel realizing that he has been overheard wags his finger in admonition. He then lapses into his own private thoughts. Two or three times we hear the faint sound of dance music played on the piano-accordion some distance away. These brief coincidences of the two sounds – the piano and the piano-accordion – produce an almost eerie noise.
The Princess is sitting alone downstage right, partly concealed behind her unnecessary parasol, vigorously masticating and every so often brushing her sleeve and skirt.
Prokofyich and Piotr have assembled a large trestle-table in the centre of the lawn. They now cover it with a white cloth and arrange chairs around it.
Fenichka oversees this work with a proprietorial eye. She is now very much mistress of the house and fully at ease in Pavel’s presence. Piotr, slightly intoxicated, is completely restored to health and cockiness and jaunty self-assurance. He nips down behind the gazebo on the pretext of getting a chair and tosses back a quick, secret drink from a hip-flask. He is about to pour a second drink when the Princess calls him.
Princess You, boy! Come here! Come here! Come here!
He quickly hides his flask and does a little dance as he goes to her.
Piotr Princess, can I help you?
Princess What’s that noise?
Piotr That noise, Princess, is Arkady singing and Miss Katya playing the piano for –
Princess The noise! The damn noise! There – d’you hear that?
Piotr My apologies. That is the musician getting ready for tonight – the annual harvest dance. We hold it in the granary.
Princess Musician? What musician?
Piotr A piano-accordion player, Princess. He comes from the town of Orel.
Princess My brother, Josef, had the first accordion ever brought into Russia. My father lit a bonfire in the yard and burned the damn thing before the whole household. Then he whipped Josef with his own hunting crop until he apologized publicly to everybody – family and servants. Ha-ha. That ended damn accordions in our house!
Piotr I’m sure it did.
Princess Josef was black and blue for a month. Tell your friend from Orel that story. Ha-ha. Whipped him! Whipped him! Whipped him!
Piotr I’ll tell him, Princess.
She withdraws. Piotr returns to his work. Pavel comes down and joins Fenichka.
Pavel I bought that song-book in London – oh, it must be twenty-five years ago. (suddenly remembering) I know exactly when I bought it – the day they made Arthur Wellesley foreign secretary. We were out on the town, celebrating!
Fenichka Who was that, Pavel?
Pavel Arthur? The first Duke of Wellington. Good man. Good fun. We had a lot of laughs together … Nice time of the day, this.
Fenichka Lovely.
Pavel Nice time of the year. Do you like October, Olga?
Princess I detest every month – for different reasons.
Pavel It’s my favourite season, the autumn. I tell myself it’s the one time of the year when the environment and my nature are perfectly attuned.
Princess It seems to me you tell yourself a lot of rubbish. And you’d need to be careful – the way you carry yourself – you could be mistaken for an accordion player.
Pavel I beg your pardon?
Princess You look very like one to me, with your shoulders so far back.
Pavel (to Fenichka) I didn’t catch what she said. I could be a –?
Fenichka An accordion player.
Pavel Me?!
Princess They all carry their shoulders back. That’s because the weight is all down the front here. Ha-ha, you could end up being whipped by mistake!
Pavel Good heavens, could I? (to Fenichka) Why do they whip accordion players?
Fenichka I don’t know. Do they?
Pavel So it seems.
Fenichka (to Piotr) There’s a vase of dahlias and a vase of chrysanthemums outside the pantry door. Put the dahlias here and the chrysanthemums there.
Piotr Anything the lady wishes.
Pavel Arkady has a pleasing voice. From the mother’s side of the house. Maria had a sweet voice.
Fenichka (to Piotr as he dances off) And napkins from the linen-press. On the top shelf, (to Pavel) What is that song?
Pavel ‘Drink to me only’.
Fenichka I never heard him singing that before.
Pavel (speaking)
‘I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope that there
It could not withered be …’
Fenichka has been counting the chairs.
Fenichka Sorry, Pavel – what was that?
Pavel Nothing. Just mumbling to myself.
Dunyasha enters left.
Fenichka I’ve noticed you doing that a lot recently. You’re not beginning to dote, are you? There are only wine glasses here, Dunyasha. Bring out the champagne glasses, will you?
Pavel, wounded, moves away. Dunyasha is so excited she can scarcely keep her voice down. Fenichka continues moving around the table, adjusting the settings. Dunyasha follows her. Fenichka listens with interest but her manner hints that the days of confidences are over.
Dunyasha Brilliant news, Fenichka! Absolutely brilliant! The aunt died at half past three this morning! Can you believe it!
Fenichka Who?
Dunyasha The aunt – the old aunt – the old bitch that reared Adam!
Fenichka Oh, I’m sorry to hear –
Dunyasha He’ll be able to sell her cottage. And she has left him about two hundred roubles. And he wants to get married, Fenichka.
Fenichka To you?
Dunyasha Jesus, you don’t think he fancies the Tailor’s Dummy, do you?!
Fenichka Dunyasha, I –
Dunyasha Of course it’s to me! At five this morning – the old cow couldn’t have been right stiff – he was up banging on my bedroom door: ‘Little one, will you make me the happiest man in Russia?’ That’s what he said! Can a duck swim, says I to myself. He didn’t go back to the corp-house till well after nine. Jesus, you should have seen that glossy black ’tash of his twitching! D’you know what we should do, Fenichka? – you hang on for an
other couple of months and we’ll get married together! Wouldn’t that be a howl! A double wedding! Drive the poor old Tailor’s Dummy astray in the head altogether!
Fenichka I don’t want you to call Pavel Petrovich by that name again, Dunyasha.
Dunyasha The Tailor’s Dummy? Between ourselves, for God’s sake; it’s only to you and Piotr and –
Fenichka I never want to hear it again.
Dunyasha Are you –?
Fenichka Is that clearly understood? Good. I’m sorry about the old aunt. But Adam should have no regrets: he was more than attentive to her. I’ll take those napkins from you, Piotr; thank you. You arranged those flowers beautifully, Dunyasha. I’m glad you’re thinking of marrying him. He’ll make a very reliable husband. Now – what’s missing? The champagne glasses. (to Dunyasha) Would you get them for me?
Dunyasha stumps off.
No, the other way round, Piotr – the dahlias on this side. Don’t you think so?
Piotr I’m sure you’re right. The dahlias are left-handed. (While he was out Piotr has had a few more drinks.) What else can I do for you, Fenichka? You just tell Piotr.
Fenichka That’s all for now.
Piotr Have you enough chairs?
Fenichka I think so.
Piotr What about some stools?
Fenichka They won’t be needed.
Piotr Stools are a very efficient means of seating large numbers of guests in an outdoor environment, Fenichka.
Fenichka We haven’t got large numbers, Piotr.
Piotr Once again you are right. Another few bottles of wine, perhaps?
Fenichka (dismissing him) Thank you, Piotr.
Piotr I know a poem. Would you like me to recite it?
Fenichka Not now, Piotr.
Piotr Later perhaps. I could spell chrysanthemum for you.
Fenichka That is all for the time being, Piotr.
Piotr Well, as soon as the time being is up, Piotr will be at your elbow and at your command. (He bows formally and goes off left.)
Fenichka The harvest party has begun early. (She holds up an empty bottle.) Since lunch time. (to Anna who comes out) Come and join us, Anna.
