THREE ACTS OF MARITAL BLISS

Three One-Act Plays by Anton P. Chekhov

I. The Wedding ProposalII. The Wedding PartyIII. The Reluctant Tragic Hero

Translated by Moti Margolin

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ACT I

The Wedding Proposal.

Stepan Stepanovich Chubukov, a land-owner.

Natalya Stepanovna, his daughter, 25 years old.

Ivan Vasileevich Lomov, their neighbor, also a land-owner, a healthy looking but very apprehensive individual.

Guest rooom at the Chubukov house.

Arm chairs. Ottoman, or a couch. Side board with water jug and glasses.

Mid-day. Late summer.

Lomov is sitting on the couch. He’s dressed to the nines, wearing a frock coat and white gloves. Chubukov enters.

I. Parental Consent.

Chubukov: Oh! Well, look who it is! Ivan Vasileevich! I can’t believe this! How the hell are you, my friend - God its good to see you!

Lomov: Oh, well, thank you, thank you so much. And you sir, how are you, sir?

Chubukov: Eh, you know, one day at a time. But, have a seat, please, sit, make yourself comfortable. Always respect your neighbors - that’s what I say and that’s what I do! God it’s good to see you - neighbor! What are you so dressed up for, eh? You look like an ambassador or something, frock coat, white gloves and everything. What do you have a rendezvous tonight?

Lomov: No, I’m just here…to see you, Stepan Stepanovich.

Chubukov: To see me?! You ‘re here to see me?! You’re dressed like a penguin on New Year’s eve!

Lomov: Well, actually, Stepan Stepanovich, I did come here with a particular purpose. Because, well, you see, there is, a certain something, umm that I, I do have that I was planning, on, if possible hopefully, perhaps, maybe, if possible, Stepan Stepanovich, asking you, maybe, perhaps. Umm. Right. And well, of course, we both know, very well, that this is not the first time

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I’ve had the most wonderfully distinct honor to umm, have the opportunity to ummm, make a request to you, and as always, well, ummm, god, I’m so nervous. Oh, I need a drink of water. Excuse me, Stepan Stepanovich.

Lomov drinks water.

Chubukov: (Aside, to audience.) He came here to ask me for money, didn’t he? Particular purpose my you know what. Well, I’m not giving him any! (Back to Lomov.) What’s wrong, neighbor?

Lomov: Well, you see,umm, sir, I mean, Stepan Stepanovich, well, I, ummm, oh god, I’m so, ummm, nervous, you see, because, in a word, to keep it short, in brief, well you are the only person who could possibly help me, although, of course, I hardly deserve any help, and so how could I possibly assume to assume that I should receive any help, of any kind…

Chubukov: I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but can you just get to the point and tell me what you’re talking about, huh?

Lomov: Oh yes…Of course…absolutely … right away…You see, the particular purpose of my visit, here, today, is that I’ve come to ask…(gulp)…for your daughter’s hand in marriage.

Chubukov: What! Wait...What! Ivan Vasileevich! Oh my God! Wait, say that again – I’m not sure I heard you right!

Lomov: The particular purpose of my visit …

Chubukov: Oh my sweet little man! I’m so happy and everything … This is what I’ve always wanted! (He hugs and kisses him.) This is what I’ve been dreaming of! I can’t believe it! Because, I’ve always loved you! I’ve adored you, like a son! I’ve prayed that this would happen, and here it is! Well look at me standing around babbling like an idiot. It’s because I’m so happy. So happy I could cry! Well, what the hell am I waiting for - I have to get Natasha in here, or should I say the future Mrs. Lomov!

Lomov: But, but, sir, before, you actually go and do that, do you, I mean do you really think that I have any kind of chance with her, and that she would actually… really like me?

Chubukov: Like you! Are you kidding me? A handsome devil like you! Come on! That’s ridiculous! I bet you she’s in love with you, like a kitten, waiting to curl up in your lap and everything! I’ll be back before you can say … I’ll be back!

Exit Chubukov.

II. The Proposer Prepares.

Lomov: God its cold. I’m shivering all over. Like I’m about to take a final exam or something. Alright! Alright! Just pull myself together Lomov, pull myself together. Now, the main thing is - to be decisive. If I keep going back and forth, and waiting for the perfect opportunity, the perfect girl, well then I’m just never going to get married. Brrr, god, its cold! I mean, Natalya Stepanovna, she’s pretty good, you know. I mean she can, cook … good, and she ummm, she’s not really ugly, and she can umm, she can umm, read. So that’s good. I mean, what more can I ask for really. Oh god, I’m so nervous, there’s this rattling noise in my ears. I mean, I have to get married, and that’s just that. First of all, I’m 30 years old, no spring chicken, you know, can’t exactly wait for ever. And, secondly, well, I have to have order and peace and quiet in my life. I mean I do have this heart condition, these palpitations, and it makes me high-strung and anxious. I mean, even now, my lips are quivering, and, oh, no, oh, god, my right eyebrow is twitching. This is

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terrible! But the worst thing is when I try to sleep. I lie down, and I start to fall asleep, when out of nowhere, on my left side, I get this – bam! Which goes right into my shoulder and head…and so I jump up like a crazy person, and walk around a bit….and then I lie back down, and I start to fall asleep, and then out of nowhere, on my left side – bam! And this just keeps on going, maybe twenty, thirty times a night, maybe more…

III. Here Comes the Bride.

Enter Natalya Stepanovna.1

Natalya: Oh, its just you, and Papa was saying go to the guest room, there’s a merchant came to buy something. Ha. Ha. Anyway, hello Ivan Vasileevich.

Lomov: Hello, dearest Natalya Stepanovna.

Natalya: You’ll have to excuse me, I’m wearing this work shirt and apron - we were in the barn, shelling peas. But you haven’t been here in so long! Let’s sit down a bit.

They both sit. Beat.

Would you like some breakfast?

Lomov: No, thank you very much, I already ate.

Beat.

Natalya: Well, if you want to smoke, there are matches.

Beat.

Natalya: The ummmm. Weather …. Ummm…. Has been nice today. It was raining yesterday. So the workers didn’t do anything. How much wheat did you manage to harvest? I actually, got all excited, and cut the whole field, but now I’m worried it might rot. Would have been better to wait. Hmm. Hmm.

Beat.

So. How are you? You’re all dressed up! This is new! Are you off to the ball? I mean, you look good, it’s a nice frock coat, but what’s it all about?

Lomov: Well, ummm, you see, dear Natalya Stepanovna, the thing is, that I’ve, well, I’ve decided to ask you to listen to something I’ve decided to ask you. Right. Hmm. And although, I think, no actually, I’m quite sure, that this may come as a sort of shock, and I think, no I’m quite sure, you’ll probably get very angry, but still… (Aside.) God, its cold!

Natalya: Is something wrong with you?

Pause.

Hello?

1 In the Russian, it is indicated that she enters wearing a negligee and an apron. The word used is negligee, but somehow I doubt it has the same meaning as in English, which suggests something formal. I think it is more along the lines of a work shirt.

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Lomov: I will be brief. Now, as I know you know, dearest Natalya Stepanovna, I have had the distinct honor to know your family from my very earliest boyhood. My late aunt, and her husband, from whom, as I know you know, I inherited my land, have always regarded your dear father, and late mother with the utmost respect and admiration. The Lomov family, and the Chubukov family have always maintained the most friendly and, one could even say, the most intimate relationship. Right. Furthermore, as I know you know, my land lies very close to your land. And I’m sure you will recall that my Ox Meadows, border with your birch-grove, and, as I know you know…

Natalya: I’m sorry, did you just say “my Ox Meadows?” What do you mean by my Ox Meadows?

Lomov: Well, um, yes, my Ox Meadows…

Natalya: Oh, that’s interesting. Your Ox Meadows? Those aren’t yours. Those are ours.

Lomov: No, I’m sorry, those are mine, dearest Natalya Stepanovna.

Natalya: Well that is something I didn’t know - how exactly did they became yours?

Lomov: What do you mean how? I’m talking about the Ox Meadows that lie between your birch grove, and the Burnt-over Marsh.

Natalya: Oh yes, I know which ones your talking about … those are ours.

Lomov: No, no you’re just mistaken, dearest Natalya Stepanovna, they’re mine.

Natalya: No, you’re the one mistaken, Ivan Vasileevich. I mean really, when exactly did they suddenly become yours?

Lomov: Suddenly? No, they’ve always, been mine, as long as I can remember.

Natalya: Well, then maybe your memory isn’t so good, now is it.

Lomov: It’s all on paper, dearest Natalya Stepanovna. There was a time when ownership of the meadows was disputed, that’s true, but now ask anyone, everybody knows they’re mine. There’s no question. It’s all so simple. What happened was, was that my aunt’s grandmother granted the unlimited and free use of the meadows, to your father’s grandfather’s serfs, because your father’s grandfather’s serfs had made my aunt’s grandmother’s bricks. And then of course they used them, I mean the meadows, for the next forty years or so, and got used to thinking they were their own, which of course they weren’t, and then…

Natalya: No, that’s completely untrue, you’re not telling the story right at all. Both my grandfather and my father’s grandfather described their land as reaching the Burnt-over Marshes, which of course includes the Ox Meadows. So there’s obviously nothing to argue about, and I don’t understand why you’re doing this, its really rather pathetic and rude.

Lomov: Well I guess I’ll have to show you the paper work then, Natalya Stepanovna.

Natalya: And I guess you’re just joking around, because you think its funny to make fun of me! But no its not funny, and I don’t deserve this! We’ve owned that land for over three hundred years, and then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, you decide to suggest that we don’t. No, I’m sorry, Ivan Vasileevich, but I can’t believe your behavior…and it’s not like I even care that much about the Ox Meadows. Its only about fourteen acres anyway that aren’t worth even 300 rubles. But that’s not the point. What gets me is your deliberate rudeness, and I can’t stand when people are just deliberately rude.

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Lomov: Well, you’re just not listening to me, dearest Natalya Stepanovna! Just let me explain. The serfs that belonged to your dear father’s grandfather were making bricks for my aunt’s grandmother, and then she wanted to do something kind in return for your dear father’s grandfather’s serfs, and so my aunt’s-grandmother…

Natalya: Fathers, grandfathers, grandmothers, aunt’s, serfs … I don’t understand a word your saying! The meadows are ours, and that’s that.

Lomov: They’re mine!

Natalya: Ours! I don’t care how long you try to prove it, I don’t care if you wear fifteen frock coats, they’re still ours! I don’t want to take anything of yours, I don’t want you to take anything of mine!

Lomov: I don’t need those meadows, Natalya Stepanovna. I would give them to you, but it’s the principle!

Natalya: Give them to me! Give them to me! If anything I’ll be the one to give them to you! I don’t understand this behavior, what’s become of you Ivan Vasileevich. Up to now, we always considered you to be a good neighbor. Last year we gave you our threshing machine, and then we had to take a hit, because we didn’t get it back until November, and now this, this is how you are, treating us like some kind of gypsies. Trying to give us our own land, back to us! Well, I’m sorry, but this is just very un-neighborly. This is just viciousness...

Lomov: Oh, oh, I see, I see, what your saying. You’re saying that I’m a usurper - well, let me tell you something sweetheart – I am not a usurper, I’ve never usurped, any land from anybody, anywhere! And I resent any intimation that I did. (He goes for more water.) The Ox Meadows are mine!

Natalya: They’re ours!

Lomov: They’re mine!

Natalya: I’ll prove it to you! I’m going to send my workers to mow there today!

Lomov: What!

Natalya: My workers are going to mow there - today!

Lomov: Well, then I’m going to beat them off!

Natalya: Don’t you dare!

Lomov: The Ox Meadows are mine! Do you understand? Mine! Mine! Mine!

Natalya: Please don’t shout! You can go shout and carry on in your own house until you croak, but here, I’ll have to ask you to behave yourself, thank you very much.

Lomov: If it wasn’t for my heart palpitations, madam, and all my conditions, I could give you some behavior you wouldn’t forget. The Ox Meadows are mine!

Natalya: Ours!

Lomov: Mine!

Natalya: Ours!

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Lomov: Mine!

IV. Parental Intervention.

Enter Chubukov.

Chubukov: What is going on? What is all this yelling?

Natalya: Papa, would you please explain to this blackguard here, who actually owns the Ox Meadows?

Chubukov: Oh, my dear neighbor, the Meadows are ours.

Lomov: With all due respect, Stepan Stepanovich, how are they yours? I know that you at least are a reasonable person, so I know you will understand. What happened was, was that my aunt’s grandmother granted the unlimited and free use of the meadows, to your father’s grandfather’s serfs, because your father’s grandfather’s serfs had made my aunt’s grandmother’s bricks. And then they used them, I mean the meadows, for the next forty years or so, and got used to thinking they were their own, which of course they weren’t, and then…

Chubukov: Hold on, my dear neighbor, hold on … I think your forgetting something in all that colorful history. The reason why the serfs were granted free use of the meadows is because the ownership was being disputed at the time, and they weren’t paying because they didn’t know who to pay. But now, ask anyone, and they’ll tell you that the Meadows are ours. Of course, maybe you just need to take a look at the charts, huh?

Lomov: I don’t need to look at any charts, I will prove that they’re mine!

Chubukov: Sweetheart, that’s something you are not going to prove!

Lomov: Yes, I will prove it!

Chubukov: Oh, my god! What are we shouting for? You are definitely not going to prove anything by shouting. Look, I don’t want anything of yours, and I certainly don’t want to just hand away what’s rightfully mine. Why would I do that? And sweetheart, if you’re going to start battling it out over the Meadows, and behaving like this, I’d sooner just give them away to the peasants then you. How ‘d you like that!

Lomov: I don’t understand! What gives you the right to just give away other people’s property?

Chubukov: I don’t need you of all people to tell me my rights. You don’t even know you how to behave yourself. Let me tell you something, buck-oh, I am more then twice your age and I’m not used to this kind of disrespectful tone of voice from striplings such as yourself.

Lomov: No, you must just take me for a fool, or this is some kind joke! You are actually claiming my land as your own, and then you expect me to stay calm about it and to not have a tone of voice! Well, let me tell you something, old man, this is not how neighbors treat each other! No sir! You are not a good neighbor, you are a usurper!

Chubukov: What?! What did you just say?!

Lomov: Papa, send the mowers to the Meadows right now!

Chubukov: What did you just say, sir?

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Natalya: The Ox Meadows are ours, and I won’t back down! I won’t back down! I won’t back down!

Lomov: Well, we’ll just have to see about that! I will prove that they are mine, in the court of law, in the court of law!

Chubukov: Oh you want to take this to court of law do you? Well go ahead, neighbor! I can’t wait! Because I know what your like! You’ve just been waiting for the opportunity to go to court! That’s what you’re like, that’s what you’re whole family is like!

Lomov: I will not stand here and allow you to insult my family! The Lomov family has an unblemished reputation, unlike some other families I know around here. That’s right! I don’t have an uncle who was tried in court for embezzlement, like you do!

Chubukov: Well, at least our family isn’t all inbred and crazy!

Natalya: That’s right all of them, all of them, all of them!

Chubukov: Your grandfather was a drunk; and your youngest aunt, Nastasya Mikhailovna, was a slut who ran away with an architect …

Lomov: Well, at least my mother wasn’t a hunchback! (Grabbing his side.) Oh God! Oh god my side … Oh god, my head … Oh god! … Water! I need water!

Chubukov: Well your father, was a gambler, and a glutton!

Natalya: And your other aunt, was a rumor-monger, like nobody’s business!

Lomov: Oh, my left leg is numb … and you, you’re a hustler … oh, my heart .. and everybody knows you tried to rig the elect …oh I’m seeing stars … where’s my hat?

Natalya: How low! How dishonest! How nasty!

Chubukov: You disgusting, two-faced, conniving wart-hog!

Lomov: Oh, here’s my hat … my heart … How do I get out of here? Oh! I think I’m dieing! I can’t walk!

Lomov exits.

Chubukov: And don’t ever walk - into this house again!

Natalya: And go ahead, take us to court! See what happens!

V. Aftermath.

Chubukov: Well! To hell with him!

Natalya: What a low-life! I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust a neighbor again!

Chubukov: What a scoundrel! What a clown!

Natalya: Pure evil! Pure evil. First he takes our land, and then he abuses us!

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Chubukov: And do you know what this pea-brained chicken livered idiot wanted to do? He wanted to make a proposal! Ha! Can you believe it? Him! A proposal!

Natalya: A proposal?

Chubukov: That’s why he came here! The low-life! To propose to you!

Natalya: Propose? To me? Why didn’t you tell me this before?

Chubukov: And that’s why he was dressed up like a god-damn penguin! A god-damn sausage!

Natalya: To me? Propose? Aaaah! (She falls to the chair.) Bring him back! Bring him back! Aaaah! Bring him back!

Chubukov: Bring who back?

Natalya: Right now! Right now! Oh god, I’m dieing! Bring him back!

Chubukov: What’s wrong with you? Oh god, I can’t take this anymore! This is unbearable! I’m going to hang myself!

Natalya: I’m dieing! Bring him back!

Chubukov: I’m going! Just calm down, and stop yelling!

Exit Chubukov.

Natalya: (Alone.) What have you done! Bring him back! Bring him back!

Enter Chubukov.

Chubukov: He’s coming back! But you talk to him, I can’t take this anymore!

Natalya: (Still wailing.) Bring him back.

Chubukov: I told you he’s coming back! Oh Lord, what did I ever do to deserve this, to be the father - of a daughter! I can’t take this anymore! I’ll cut my throat! I swear I will! We cursed him, we abused him, we kicked him out, and it’s all your fault!

Natalya: No, it’s all your fault!

Chubukov: Oh, it’s my fault?! My fault?! Of course it’s my fault!

Lomov appears at the doorway.

Well then you talk to him! Yourself!

Exit Chubukov.

VI. Reconciliation.

Lomov: Oh my heart, … oh my side, … oh… and my leg too.

Natalya: Forgive us Ivan Vasilieevich. We got a little carried away….(Giggle)... I realized I was wrong. You were right. The Ox Meadows, have always been yours.

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Lomov: Oh my heart. … the meadows…mine … oh .. I’m seeing spots.

Natalya: Yes, yes that’s exactly what I’m saying, they’re yours. Calm down, calm down, and please, please sit.

They both sit.

You see, we made a mistake. A little boo-boo. (Giggle.)

Lomov: It’s just the principle. I could really care less, but I have to stand behind my principles, you know.

Natalya: That’s right – that’s so right, principles. But we should change the subject.

Lomov: And besides I have all the paperwork, and the proof. My aunt’s grandmother gave the land for use to your father’s grandfather …

Natalya: Of course, of course, who could argue.

Beat.

(Asde.) Well, I have to start this somehow. (To him.) So. Are you going … hunting … anytime soon?

Lomov: Actually, Natalya Stepanovna, I was thinking of going after the harvest. Oh, but did you hear what happened with my favorite greyhound, Possum2. I think you know him actually. Well, he got a limp.

Natalya: Oh that’s terrible! How?

Lomov: Well, I don’t know. Either he just twisted his paw, or maybe he was bitten by another dog, I don’t know. (Sighs.) But he’s the best greyhound there is. Worth every kopeck of the hundred-twenty-five rubles I paid Mironov for him.

Natalya: Really? That much … for him?

Lomov: Yes! And I thought it was a steal too. He’s an amazing dog.

Natalya: Just seems a bit too much that’s all. My father paid ninety-five rubles for our greyhound Gopher, and Gopher’s a much better dog.

Lomov: Gopher? Better then Possum? You’re kidding me right? Possum is twice the dog that Gopher will ever be.

Natalya: Of course Gopher’s better. He’s still young, but you could tell by his pedigree, and his traits, that he’s better then anything that even Volchanetsky has got.

Lomov: Traits? Are we forgetting, Natalya Stepanovna, that that dog has an over-bite? Every body knows that dogs with over-bites do not make good hunters.

Natalya: I never heard about any kind of over-bite.

2 The dogs names are not particularly important except as suggesting examples of common hunting dog’s names that sound somehow similar. I thought it might be funny and ironic that they are arguing about dog qualities for dogs that have especially un-canine names.

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Lomov: It’s true. His lower jaw is shorter then his upper jaw, and it’s too bad.

Natalya: Did you measure or something?

Lomov: Well, yes, of course I measured. He’s a good dog you know, to be following in the back of the pack, maybe. But if you actually want him to like, catch anything, well then, no.

Natalya: First of all, Gopher has exceptional breeding. He’s the son of Foxie, and Drill-Bit. God only knows where your mutt came from. And besides he’s old and mangy, like a broken down nag.

Lomov: Old? I wouldn’t trade five of your Gophers for him. I can’t even believe we’re talking about this. Possum – now that is a dog. Gopher – are you kidding me – you don’t have to go anywhere to find a mongrel like Gopher, there’s one in every hole in the ground. (He laughs at his joke.) I wouldn’t even pay twenty-five rubles for him.

Natalya: My, my Ivan Vasilievich. You are just Mr. Argumentative today, aren’t you. First, you argue that the Ox Meadows all belong to you and now you argue that Possum is a better dog then Gopher. You should stop right now. Stop arguing, because you like to argue. And stop denying things you know you aren’t true. You know perfectly well that Gopher is a much better dog then that thing of yours. Why do you have to just deny everything and argue?

Lomov: Natalya Stepanovna, it seems you think I’m some kind of kind idiot. Or just blind. Well, I’m not blind. And I’m not an idiot. You are the one who is in denial. Your dog, that Gopher of yours, has an over-bite.

Natalya: No he doesn’t!

Lomov: Yes he does!

Natalya: No, he doesn’t!

Lomov: My god, why are shouting at me?

Natalya: Why are saying these stupid things? Are you enjoying yourself, making me upset? If you want to know the truth, its about time that Possum of yours was shot. There I said it. And you dare to compare him to Gopher.

Lomov: Alright, I‘m sorry, but you, are going to have to shut-up now. I have a very weak heart.

Natalya: Oh I know how it is. I know exactly how it is. The big shot hunter who talks the most, actually knows the least.

Lomov: I’m begging you, please be quiet … my heart is about to fall apart … will you just be quiet!!

Natalya: No I will not be quiet, until you admit that Gopher is a hundred, no, a thousand times better then that Possum.

Lomov: A thousand times worse! And I hope he drops dead! Oh god….my head…my eyes…my shoulder.

Natalya: Well, Possum may as well be dead already.

Lomov: Oh just shut-up! Oh…I’m having a heart attack! Heart attack.

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Natalya: Don’t you dare tell me to shut-up!

VII. Return of the Father.

Enter Chubukov.

Chubukov: Now what?

Natalya: Papa, can you please tell us honestly, with a clear conscience, unlike some people here, which dog is better, our Gopher, or his Possum thing?

Lomov: Stepan Stepanovich, I’m begging you, just tell me one thing: does Gopher have an over-bite or doesn’t he? Yes or no?

Chubukov: Maybe he does? What difference does it make? He’s still the best dog in the whole god-damn county and that’s that.

Lomov: But honestly, you know he’s not better then Possum?

Chubukov: Sweetheart, what are getting all flustered for? Your Possum, he’s got his good traits. Strong legs, good rib-cage, cute ears, etc. But, listen, sweetheart, if you want it straight, he’s got some very major defects: he’s old, and he has a short muzzle.

Lomov: Excuse me, but I’m having palpitations. Let’s just talk about the facts, if we’re going to talk straight and all and let me remind you, that on Count Marusinsky’s hunting tracks, Possum ran nose to nose with the Count’s Flapper, and where was Gopher then? Oh right, he was a mile behind them. Right!

Chubukov: He got left behind because the Count’s whipper-in had whipped him.

Lomov: You know it was actually kind of funny, a comedy. All the real hunting dogs are chasing a fox, but your’s is hopping after a sheep.

Chubukov: That is completely untrue! …Listen buddy, I’m sorry. I just have a short temper, and so I’m going to have ask you to end this conversation right here. The reason Gopher was hit by the Count’s whipper-in, was because he didn’t want the Count’s dogs to be shown up. That’s his job. That’s right! Everybody is jealous. And you my friend, you are jealous too. Somebody deigns to suggest that another dog is actually better then your precious little Possum, and you get all flustered. But you know, I was there. I remember.

Lomov: I was there too and I remember!

Chubukov: “And I remember!” What do you remember?

Lomov: Oh god, palpitations! And there goes my leg. Again. I can’t take it.

Natalya: “Oh my palpitations, my palpitations.” Some hunter. You can’t even hunt cockroaches in the kitchen. “Oh my palpitations…”

Chubukov: No really, you call yourself a hunter? I mean, that’s interesting, what with your conditions, and palpitations and all. You know, you’d be better off sitting on a couch then bouncing around on a saddle. Or maybe you just like to call yourself a hunter so you could go on hunting parties and get into arguments about people’s dogs. That’s what it is isn’t it? Well, listen, I am not the arguing type. My temper is way too short, believe me. So we better just talk about

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something else. But certainly not hunting. I mean, you wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you.

Lomov: What kind of hunter are you! The only reason you ever go is to brown-nose the Count, and gossip. Oh my heart. You… you… gossiper!

Chubukov: What! Did you just call me a gossiper!

Lomov: That’s right - gossiper!

Chubukov: Why you little stripling! You little punk!

Lomov: You old wind-bag! You…Jesuit3!

Chubukov: You better shut the hell up or I’ll shoot you like a partridge! Then maybe you’ll know about hunting!

Lomov: Everybody knows – oh, my heart – that you got beatings from your late wife – my shoulder – my leg – my head – spots – I’m falling, I’m falling!

Chubukov: And you are your housekeeper’s little bitch!

Lomov: Oh! That’s it! That’s it! Heart failure! Heart failure! Oh … Doctor. (Passes out.)

Chubukov: You milksop! You puny little runt! It’s sickening. Oh you just make me sick. (He drinks water.)

Natalya: What kind of a hunter are you! You can’t even sit on a horse! (To her father.) Papa! What happened to him? Papa! Look at him, Papa! (Screeches.) Ivan Vasileevich! He’s dead! (She pulls Lomov by the shirt sleeve.) Ivan Vasileevich! Ivan Vasileevich! What have we done! He’s dead! (She falls into an armchair.) Doctors! Call the doctors!

Chubukov: What! What happened! What’s wrong with you!

Natalya: (Wailing.) He’s dead!

Chubukov: Who’s dead! (looks at Lomov.) Oh my god…He’s really dead! Oh my god! Water! Doctor! (Brings a cup of water to Lomov’s lips.) Drink! Drink! … No, oh no, he’s not drinking. He’s dead! He’s really dead! Oh me! Oh me! Me, me, me! I’m so unfortunate. Why don’t I just shoot myself? Why haven’t I stabbed myself yet? Give me a knife! Give me a pistol!

Lomov moves.

Wait, no, he’s coming back! Drink the water! There you go sweetheart …

Lomov: Spots…Fog…Where am I?

Chubukov: Just get married already and get the hell out of my house! She agrees! (Joins their hands together.) She agrees and everything. I bless you and everything. Just go and leave me in peace!

Lomov: Huh? What? (Gets up.) Who?

3 In Russian it’s Jesuit. Would that be understood by a modern audience? But something oddly obscure, indicating a hypocritical individual is an appropriate remark.

13

Chubukov: She agrees I said! Just kiss her already and to hell with the both of you!

Natalya: (Wailing.) He’s alive … yes…yes… I agree.

Chubukov: Kiss!

Lomov: Huh? Who? (Natalya kises him.) Oh, thank you. That was nice. But what for? Oh right. I get it! Oh, spots, oh, heart…Very happy, thank you Natalya Stepanovna. (Kisses her hand.) My leg is numb.

Natalya: I am happy too.

Chubukov: Oh thank you Lord, … I can live.

Natalya: But you might as well finally agree that Possum is worse then Gopher.

Lomov: Better!

Natalya: Worse!

Chubukov: Oh, dear, here it comes, the marital bliss. Champagne!

Lomov: Better!

Natalya: Worse! Worse! Worse!

Chubukov: (Trying to out shout them.) Champagne! Champagne! Champagne!

Curtain.

14

ACT II

The Wedding Party.

Wedding Party and Guests4:

Zhigalov5, Evdokim Zaharovich – a retired civil servant.

Nastasya Timofeyevna – his wife.

Darya Evdokimovna; Dashenka – their daughter.

Aplombov6, Epaminond Maximovich – her groom, and a real shrimp.

Revunov-Karaulov7, Fedor Yakovlevich – a captain, second class, retired.

Nyunin8, Andrei Andreyevich – an insurance agent.

Zmeyukina9, Anna Martinovna – a midwife, 30 years old, in a bright red dress; and a singer.

Yats10, Ivan Mikhailovich – a telegraph operator

Dimba11, Harlampii Spiridovich – a Greek; confectioner; has a heavy Greek accent.

Mozgavoy12, Dimitry Stepanovich – a sailor with the Volunteer Fleet

MC, waiters, other wedding guests, etc.

Early spring. Near midnight.

4 Nearly all the characters last names are identifying monikers. I’m not against the possibility that their names be translated as well. Indeed the puns existing in the names in Russian have an effect, which is lost with out some kind of translation. 5 Zhigats means to burn. He talks about fires in the play, and seems to have possibly a similarly firey nature. Options: Fieyeorov; Flaymenov.6 From the word aplomb. Option: Aplombov is good enough.7 Revyet means to howl, to bellow. Karaul is sentry duty. Option: Ray-vinov-Sentinelov.8 Nyu-nyu, is an onomatopoeic sound expressing a whining nature. A English version of the Russian name would perhaps be helpful here. Option: I like the name as is.9 Zmey means snake. Option: Snayi-kina; Ser-pent-kina.10 Yats, is a Cyrillic letter, now out of use, but by its short punchy sound very fitting to a telegraph operator, whose work is, of course, with punching letters. 11 Suggests a dim, thick-headed nature. 12 Mozg means brain.

15

A brightly lit dining hall in a restaurant, with a large table, with drinks and foods, being set for supper by servants wearing frock coats. An orchestra, offstage13, is playing the last measures of a quadrille, before beginning the grande-ronde. Two exits off the stage.

13 It says in stage directions that the orchestra is off-stage, but it would make much more sense to have them present for a good part of the action that happens in the dining room. There music is an additional character in the play.

16

I. Have Pity versus Grand Rounde

Zmeyukina crosses the stage pursued by Yats, and then the MC.

Zmeyukina: No means no means no!

Yats: But please, pretty please, have pity.

Zmeyukina: And I said no means no means no!

MC: Wait! Wait! Where are you going? You can’t leave! The grande-rounde! The grande-rounde! Sil-vous-plait! The grande-rounde!

They exit.

II. The Groom and Mother of The Bride; Fancy Words

Nastasya Timofeyena enters pursued by Aplombov.

Nastasya Timofeyevna: Wouldn’t you rather go dance instead of annoying me with all those fancy words of yours?

Aplombov: No I wouldn’t! I’m not a Spinosa, who spins around on my legs. I’m a serious individual, I have purpose and character, and I don’t waste time with idle pursuits. And besides, dear mamman, lets not try to dance away from the subject. I don’t understand your behavior. You know very well, that we made an agreement - in exchange for marrying your daughter I get two un-cashed winning lottery tickets. Well all I’ve got so far are some pots and pans, which is fine, but an agreement is an agreement and I would like to know where my lottery tickets are.

Nastasya Timofeyevna: Oh I seem to have a head ache … must be the weather … I really wish it would warm up already.

Aplombov: Don’t try to befuddle me – the weather! I know what’s going on, I found out! You pawned the tickets! Well, let me tell you something dear mamman – that is not good behavior. And I just want you to know that I’m not doing this out of ego-isticism, no! I don’t even need your lottery tickets. But it’s a matter of principalism, and I won’t have people befuddlize me. An agreement is an agreement. I’ve made your daughter very happy, and if I don’t get my tickets, well, I’ll make her very … unhappy. There. And I’ll beat her to a pulp. And I assure you, that I keep my word.

Nastasya Timofeyevna looks at the table and counts the table settings.

Nastasya Timofeyevna: One, two, three, four, five…

A waiter enters.

Waiter: Excuse me, but the cook wants to know what you want with the ice cream: rum, madiera, or just plain?

Aplombov: Rum. And tell the manager, that we’re running low on wine and to put out more of the Haute-Sauterne. (Waiter exits. To Nastasya Timofeyevna.) And you also said that we would have a general here tonight at the supper. Well where is he, I’d like to know?

Nastasya Timofeyevna: I had nothing to do with that.

17

Aplombov: Well who did?

Nastasya Timofeyevna: Andrei Andreyevich! He said he’d bring one. He came by last night, and promised he would. Our one and only darling child, she deserves to have a general at her wedding supper14.

Aplombov: Well, fine. But there’s something else. Everybody knows, including you, that before I made my proposition to Dashenka, that telegraph operator, Yats, was chasing her around. So I have to say that I can’t understand why you had to invite him here. You must know it makes me very nervous and very uncomfortable.

Nastasya Timofeyevna: Epaminond Maximovich, how long have you been married to my daughter? One day? And both her and I are already tired of you and all of your talking. What’s it going to be like a year from now, hmmm? You are an annoying little man, you know that.

Aplombov: Ah well, I guess, you just can’t handle the truth, can you? Heh? Is that it? Well, I’m only asking for one thing, and one thing only, to be treated fairly.

A couple of pairs of dancers dance into the hall. The first pair is the MC with Dashenka. They move into and then out of the room.

MC: (Shouting.) Promenade! Messieurs, et madams! Promenade!

The second pair is Yats dancing with Zmeyukina, and they remain in the hall.

III. The Telegraph Operator and The Midwife; Keep Fanning Me

Yats: Oh please, magnificent Anna Martinovna, have pity!

Zmeyukina: What’s wrong with you! I told you that I don’t have my voice today!

Yats: But one note! Just one brilliant tiny little note! You have to, I’m begging you! One note!

Zmeyukina: God, you’re stupid!

She sits and starts to fan herself.

Yats: And you’re pitiless! And cruel! And yet with the voice of an angel! How can you be a midwife! You have to sing, at concerts! For the public! The public demands your talents! Oh, like that, that fioritura15 that you did one time! How did it go? (He sings in falsetto.) “I did love you; but I did love you in vain…”

Zmeyukina: Do you mean: (Sings.) I did love you; but I might love you again…16”?

Yats: Oh magnifecent! Glorious!

Zmeyukina: I don’t have my voice today. Here, you little idiot, fan me … uhh … its so hot. (To Aplombov.) Epaminond Maximovich, why are you so depressing. I never saw a groom who looked as as depressing as you.

14 Well, who doesn’t.15 the ornamentation of a melody, often extemporized by the performer, as in Italian opera during the 18th century.16 From a Pushkin poem.

18

Aplombov: Well, marriage is not a laughing matter. It’s for serious individuals with purpose and character, and I have to think about it. From many different perspectives.

Zmeyukina: Oh you’re so dull - its stifling! I need atmosphere! Make way, you oafs! I need atmosphere. (She sings a few notes.)

Yats: Oh glorious!

Zmeyukina: I have no voice today. Keep fanning me, monkey. Can somebody tell me, why in the world am I so hot?

Yats: I can tell you. It’s because you’re sweating. Grrrrr.

Zmeyukina: You really are so stupid!

Yats: Forgive me, your magnificence, You’re right - I am stupid. You’re used to a higher sort and …

Zmeyukina: Oh just shut up and keep fanning me.

IV. Father of The Bride and The Greek; There Is Everything In Greece

Zhigalov with Dimba, walk in and proceed to the table. They are carrying empty glasses.

Zhigalov: You know what think? I we better have another drink! (Pours into the glasses and start nibbling from the dishes with food.) I always say you can drink as much you want as long as you remember … not to forget anything … . And if someone else is paying for it, then you should drink even more. So drink! To your health, my dear friend Harlampii Spiridovich!

They drink. Dimba pours again for both of them.

Dimba: And to your health, Evdokim Zaharovich.

They drink.

Zhigalov: So tell me, Harlampii Spiridovich! In Greece, do you have tigers, in Greece?

Dimba: Of course we have tigers in Greece!

Zhigalov: What about lions?

Dimba: Of course we have lions in Greece! It is here, in Russia, you have nothing! But in Greece, we have everything! In Greece I have my father, I have my uncle, and I have my brothers, and here, I have nothing!

Zhigalov: What about whales? Do you have whales in Greece?

Dimba: Of course we have whales in Greece!

Nastasya Timfoyeevna: (To her husband.) Would you stop drinking from the table! We’re all about to sit down for supper. And would you get your fork out of the lobster dish! That’s for the general! He still might come.

Zhigalov: What about lobsters! You have lobsters in Greece?

19

Dimba: Yes! There is everything in Greece!

Zhigalov: What about civil servants? You have civil servants in Greece?

Zmeyukina: The atmosphere in Greece, oh, I can just imagine it!

Zhigalov: But I have to tell you - there must be a lot of swindling in Greece. Because the Greeks, they’re as bad as the Armenians. Or the Gypsies. Am I right Spiridovich, or am I right? You try to buy a sponge, or a gold fish from them, they just try to rip you off. Drink?

Nastasya Timfoyeevna: No, no more drinks! We’re sitting down for supper! It’s almost midnight!

Zhigalov: Alright, alright. If we going to sit, let’s sit. (Shouts.) Everybody, let’s sit, it’s supper time, and that means you young folk. Sit!

Nastasya Timfoyeevna: (Calling into the other room.) Please, guests, would you please just take a seat! Please everyone!

Zmeyukina: I need poetry, I need poetry. “But the rebel, the loner, he reaches for the storm: for only the storm will ever bring him peace17.”

Yats: (Aside.) What a woman! I’m in love. I’m in a storm of love!

V. Let the Speeches Begin

Enter Dashenka, Mozgavoy, and remaining wedding guests. They noisily take their places at the table, while the orchestra in the back room is playing.

Mozgavoy: (Rising.) Ladies and gentlemen! Ladies and gentleman! I have something to tell you … we have a great deal of speeches, yes! yes we do! So we won’t waste any time and we will let the speeches begin!

All: Speeches! Speeches!

Mozgavoy: But first …

He informally takes a sip from a glass filled with liquor.

Oh! Bitter!

Another guest performs a similar ceremony, also saying “Bitter.” This is followed by several other guests performing a similar ritual, until the entire party explodes into chanting the word “Bitter.”

Mozgavoy: (Over the rest of the crowd) Come on you two! Give us something sweet!

Aplombov and Dashenka kiss. Glasses are raised and clinked, and the orchestra plays a flourish. All applaud and cheer. 18

Yats: Oh marvelous! Marvelous! My friends, my friends, I wish to make the first speech. Thank you, thank you. The first thing I want to say is that this hall is magnificent. It’s beautiful … and it’s

17 A quote from the well beloved Russian Romantic poet Mikhail Lermontov’s poem “The Sail.” Written sometime between 1832-1834.

18 This ritual is a very common one at your typical Russian weddings. Mozgovoy begins it, and it is picked up and repeated by the rest of the guests in crescendo, until they are done kissing.

20

big. But there is a draw back, there is no electrical lighting. That’s right, I’m sorry to say it, but the rest of the world is using electrical lighting and we’re not. And that, my friends, is a drawback, at this wedding. And as a telegraph operator, of course, I’m on the forefront of the most advanced advancements, and let me tell you, that here in Russia....

Zhigalov: Electrical lighting?. I know all about that stuff. Swindlers! They put a piece of coal into a glass tube, they expect you to think its some crazy new-fangled invention, ewwww, and so you to have to pay money for it. Well, let me tell you something, you want your “electricalized lighting”, well I don’t! When I want light, I want a fire; that’s right, something I can get mind around, not some phony-baloney piece of coal.

A number of guests cheer.

Yats: But if you had actually seen what an electrical battery is made out of and how it works, then you would sing a different song.

Zhigalov: I don’t want sing a different song! Swindlers! That’s what they are! Every single one of them! And they prey on all the simple hard-working people … that’s right … they’re just parasites … and I know all about them! Every single one of them … And you, my young telegraphic friend, instead of talking and helping them swindle, what you should be doing is drinking, and helping other people drink!

Aplombov: And I agree with you completely dear Papa. And we’re not in the telegraph office. I can certainly hold my own in all this scientifical talk, but there is a time and place, and this isn’t it.– isn’t that right my little honey bun? (To Dashenka.)

Dashenka: Yeah, some people try to talk funny, so the simple people think they’re like … smart or something … but they’re not.

Nastasya Timofeyevna: We’ve lived just fine without talking funny, and we’re giving our daughter away to a perfectly respectable young man. And if you think we’re not scientifical enough for you, well then you can go away, find yourself another wedding party that is.

Yats: Nastasya Timofeyevna, I’ve always respected your family, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to talk funny. And so to make up, I will have a drink, in honor of your daughter, because I’ve always wanted her to get marry a respectable young man, because I know, in these times, respectable young men, are few and far between, and the only reason people get married is because there’s some kind of an agreement …

Aplombov: Are you hinting at something!?

Yats: (Cowering.) Hinting? What would I be hinting at? I’m not talking about anybody in this wedding party. I’m just saying, in general. Everybody knows you’re marrying out of love, I mean it’s not like there’s any kind of dowry to speak of!

Nastasya Timofeyevna: Now you just watch your mouth. It’s a perfectly respectable dowry! Besides one thousand rubles cold hard cash, that’s right, all for our daughter, we’re also giving him a brand new set of furniture, a brand new bed, and three new brand new dresses. That’s a dowry and a half.

Yats: Well of course … the brand new furniture … if it’s really brand new … and the dresses … are great for him … but what I’m saying is, I never did any kind of hinting.

Nastasya Timofeyevna: Well you had better not. Because the only reason we even invited you is because we respect your parents, and now here you talking like this. And if you knew that

21

Epaminond Maximovich was marrying for an agreement, well why did you wait until now to mention it? (Tearfully.) I mean its my daughter, we’re talking about, and I raised her, and fed her, and nursed her, and cared for her like she was my precious little emerald jewel.

Aplombov: Oh so you believe this scoundrel! (To Yats.) Well, Mr. Yats, we may be acquaintances, but I will not allow you to go on talking like this in a respectable. As a matter of fact, I’m going to have to ask you to remove yourself, and to get the hell out of here.

Yats: Excuse me?!

Aplombov: Oh, you’re a scientist, you know what I’m talking about. But to reiterize, I’m saying - get the hell out of here!

Several guests: Hey, hey! Alright! Let’s just calm down! It’s not worth it! Let him stay, who cares!

Yats: That’s fine… that’s fine. I’m a telegraph operator and I get the message. But I’m not going any where until I get my five rubles back. That’s right. You borrowed five rubles from me last year. Actually I’ll have another drink first, and then I want my five rubles, and then I’ll “get the hell out of here.”

Several guests: Come on, why are we arguing about five rubles? Sit down, leave it alone!

MC: A drink to the parents of the bride, Evdokim Zaharovich, and Nastasya Timofeyevna!

The orchestra plays a flourish and the guests toast.

Zhigalov: (Overcome with emotion.) Oh thank you! Thank you so much my dear friends! I am so grateful to all of you, because you haven’t forgotten us, and you made that beautiful toast! And I mean this from the bottom of my heart, because I’m not a swindler! I love every single one of you! I would do anything in the world for you! Thank you, thank you so much! (He kisses people.)

Dashenka: (While her father is kissing everyone around the table.) Mother why are you crying? I’m so happy!

Aplombov: Mamman is upset because she is about to lose her daughter. But if she just remembered that wonderful little conversation we had a little while ago, I’m sure she’ll feel much better.

Mamman cries more.

Yats: Don’t cry Nastasya Timofeyevna! Tears are just a weak expression of human psychology.

Mamman cries more.

Zhigalov: (Having reached Dimba) Hey, do they have red-heads in Greece?

Dimba: Of course! They have everything!

Zhigalov: But I bet they don’t have our kinds of mushrooms?

Dimba: Of course they have! They have everything!

Mozgavoy: Harlampii Spirodovich, its your turn to make a speech! Ladies and gentlemen, our distinguished Greek guest Harlampii Spirodovich Dimba will now make a speech!

22

Dimba: What! Wait a minute… what’s going on?

Zmeyukina: Oh no you don’t! Don’t you dare say no! Get up there and make a speech!

Dimba: But I don’t make a …

Guests: Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech!

He gets up.

Dimba: Umm. Hmmm.. what I make speech about. Hmmm. I make speech … about … what is Russia … and what is Greece. Because, there are peoples … in Russia, and there are peoples … in Greece. And there are peoples … who are swimming…in the ocean … in boats… and there are people … on land … and they swimming … on the train. And I know this … because I know this … and we … are Greeks … and you … are Russians … and me … I don’t need nothing …. Because I say … this is what is Russia … and this … is what is Greece. Thank you. Thank you very much.

He sits. Pause.

VI. The General is coming!

Nyunin runs in.

Nyunin: Wait! Don’t eat! Nastasya Timofeyevna! Oh, there you are? Would you mind for a minute? All the rest of you…don’t eat!

He pulls Nastasya Timofeyevna aside. Catching his breath.

The General is coming! I found him. God, I’m exhausted. But he’s the real deal. Worth every kopeck, I’m telling you. And he’s old. I’m talking like seventy, or eighty, maybe ninety.

Nastasya Timofeyevna: So when is he getting here?

Nyunin: Any minute now. You are going to thank me for the rest of your life. I’m telling you, he is the real thing. And he’s not from the Corps of Volunteers, nothing like that, no, he was in the Navy.

Nastasya Timofeyevna: Navy?

Nyunin: Well, yeah, but his rank was captain, 2nd class, which in Navy means the same thing as a general, or in civil service, that would be like the Chief-Secretary or something, so you get the idea, you see what I’m saying.

Nastasya Timofeyevna: You’re not lying to me, right Andrei Andreyevich?

Nyunin: Are you kidding me! What do I look like! I’m telling you, he’s a general!

Nastasya Timofeyevna: Because I am paying you money to bring him here …

Nyuninv: And I’m telling you, you have nothing to worry about. He’s a general! Every thing about him is a general! And I had to convince him to come here, and it wasn’t easy. I say to him, “Sir they really really wish you would come, because the whole wedding wouldn’t be complete with out you.” And he says, “But how can I come, I don’t even know the groom.” So you know what I say, I say “Sir, you don’t have to worry about that, because the groom, he is an upstanding

23

individual, a first-class type. He works in the courts,” I tell him. “And they only got honest people in the courts. They even got women working there.” That’s what I tell him. And you know what he does? He pats me on the shoulder, gives me one of his Cuban cigars. We have a little smoke, and now he’s on his way over here….(Seeing one of the guests pick raising food to their mouth.) Put that down! (The guest puts the food down.) You don’t eat yet! He’ll be here any minute, then you eat.

Aplombov: So when is this general of yours coming?

Nyunin: I’m telling you, he’s going to come in any minute now. When I left him he was putting on his galoshes. So don’t eat, people, don’t you dare eat!

Aplombov: Well, if he’ll be here any minute, we better ask the orchestra to play a march.

Nyunin: That’s right, good idea. (Yells to the other room with the orchestra.) Orchestra!! Play a march!

The orchestra begins playing a march.

VII. Enter the General.

A lackey enters.

Lackey: His excellency Mr. General Revunov-Karaulov.

Nyunin: Ah, you see! Here he is.

Zhigalov, Nastasya Timofeyevna, and Nyunin all rush to meet the entering general. Nastasya bows before him.

Nastasya Timofeyevna: Oh your Excellency, your Excellency, we are so honored!

Revunov: Oh, umm, thank you, thank you so much.

Zhigalov: Your Excellency, we are very simple average salt of the earth mediocre people here. And we’re not some kind of swindlers. And we always keep a place for good people, such as yourself.

Revunov: Thank you, thank you so much. The honor is all mine.19

Nyunin: Sir, if you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce you to everybody important here. This of course is the newlywed husband, Epaminond Maximovich Aplombov, and this is his newly-bed, I mean, newlywed wife.

Aplombov: (Standing to attention.) General. We are terribly grateful. Thank you.

Nyunin: And now, this is Ivan Mikhailovich Yats, he is a telegraph operator. And now here you have, Harlampii Spiridovich Dimba. He’s foreign and he makes candy.

Dimba: In Greece we also have generals. There is everything in Greece.

Revunov: Thank you, thank you so much. The honor is all mine.20

19 This could be repeated as he greets each of the individuals.20 This could be repeated as he greets each of the individuals.

24

Nyunin: Right. And now, Osin Lyukich Babelmandebski, and this person I don’t know, and he doesn’t matter anyway21, and well, the rest of them, they don’t matter either.

Revunov: Thank you. Thank you so much. The honor is all mine. Now if you would excuse me, I have to talk to Andrei Adnreyevich here for a second. Thank you. Thank you so much. (He takes Nyunin to the side.) Andrei, listen, I don’t how I feel about this. They’re calling me your Excellency, they think I’m a general. I’m not a general. I’m just a captain, 2nd class, I never even became a lieutenant.

Nyunin: (Speaks into his ear, as one would to a person very hard of hearing.) Sh, shh, shhh. Now listen to me, Fyodor Yakovlevich, what are you worried about? You got nothing to worry about. Look, just do me a favor, and let them call you your Excellency. The whole family is here, and they wanted to have somebody old and respectable, you know, with rank, so you can’t disappoint them, alright?

Revunov: Well, I guess if you put it that way … (He goes back to the table.) Thank you, thank you so much.

VIII. The General at the helm.

Nastasya Timofeyevna: Your Excellency, please have a seat. We are so grateful that you could join us. And please go ahead and have some of our food. That’s a lobster salad, especially for you. I’m sure you are used to finer things, but we do the best we can, we’re just simple people.

Revunov: What? Oh, well you know, in the old days, all people, were simple. And although, I’m a man of rank and distinction, I’m still a simple man, just like you yourselves. Did you say this was lobster salad? Yes, indeed, Andrei Andreyevich came to my house today, and invited me to this here wedding party. I say, “Listen, I can’t go, I don’t know anybody there.” And he says to me, “Don’t worry about it, they’re simple people.” So I think to myself, well if that’s the case … then why not? And so here I am. It gets lonesome sometimes, being a veteran, all by myself at home. Umm, this lobster salad is great. Could I get some wine there, young fella? And if I can make a bunch of simple people happy with my presence, well, then that’s just great.

Zhigalov: Your Excellency. Thank you so much for saying that. Coming from a man like yourself, that actually means something. And I’ll tell you, I am real simple, and if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s swindlers. So please, go ahead, keep eating.

Aplombov: Sir, have you been retired for a long time now?

Revunov: Huh? What? This herring - its bitter. And this bread is bitter.

All: Bitter! Bitter!

Aplombov and Dashenka kiss.

Revunov: Ha-ha! Well, to your health you young folk. Yep, In the old days, every body was simple. I tell you, I love the simple life. I’m pretty old, and I’ve been in retirement since 1865. I’m seventy-two. Of course, mind you, I’ve had my wild flings, here and there, back in the day … (Sees Mozgavoy) … hey, you in the Navy young man?

Mozgavoy: Yes, sir that’s right.

Revunov: Ah…Yes…that’s right…the Navy… now that is some real work. It’s not for slackers, that’s for sure. And you have to have a brain in your head too. For example, do you know what 21 To the audience.

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this means: put the coxswain on the dogwatch, and give him a frocking? Well, only a sailor can tell you what that means. That’s intelligence.

Nyunin: To the health of our esteemed guest, Fyodor Yakovlevich Revunov-Karaulov!

The orchestra plays some music, and all the guests cheer.

Yats: Your Excellency, you’ve just spoken about the intellectual rigors of working in the Navy. Well, I would just like to point out, that Telegraph Operation Specialists require an equal measure of intellectual capacitations. In this day and age, your Excellency, you can’t even think about going into the Telegraph Operations Service, unless you are absolutely fluent in French and German, as I am. But the hardest thing of all, of course, is the actual telegraphic skill, which takes years to master. It’s a true art form. Here’s an example if you wouldn’t mind:

He takes a spoon, and raps out a sequence of code.

Revunov: What the hell are you doing?

Yats: I’ve just coded out “I respect you, your Excellency, for honoring us with your presence. Period.” You think that was easy? Here’s another one.

Raps again while Revunov speaks over it.

Revunov: Slow down, I can’t hear it!

Yats: This one is: “Madam, I live for your embrace. Semi-colon. Dash. Right paranthesis.”

Revunov: Madam? What are you talking about? Are you stupid? (To Mozgavoy.) Now, young man, the Navy! Yes! Now that’s living. What you do, when you sail straight into a head-wind? … you hoist your fore-topsail and topsail halyards! That’s what you do! And then you cry out an order: (He yells.) “Raise the cross-trees to the fore-topsail and topsail halyards!” And like magic, as soon as you say it, the sails unfurl, and the cross-trees are planted on the fore-topsail and topsail halyards.

MC: Your Excellency, and honored guests …

Revunov: Yes, sir! That’s how you sail into a head-wind my friend. The Navy, its got its own language!. (Yells again.) “Furl up the fore-topsail, and the foretop-gallant sail!” (All in one breath.) Now, what do you think that means? Well its simple as pie. It means, that if the topsails and top-gallant sails are lifting the halyards, you level the fore-top sail to the top-gallant sail and the top-gallant sail to the hoist and you loosen the top-gallant braces, and to the fore-top-gallant sails, and set the halyards…

Nyunin: Umm, excuse me, Fyodor Yakovlevich. But would you mind talking about something … else. Nastasya Timofeyevna told me to ask you. She’s worried some of the guests won’t really understand this Naval subject.

Revunov: Huh? What? Shut-up! (Back to Mozgovay.) Now, young man, what you do when the wind is hitting your starboard while you’re under full sail, but you have to turn the ship around into the fore-wind? Huh? What you do? Well, first thing you do is you blow your whistle to get the sailors to the deck!

He takes out a whistle and blows it loud.

Nyunin: Thank you Fyodor Yakovlevich! But wouldn’t you like something to eat?

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Revunov: And then you give them the orders: (Yells.) “Take your places, to turn into the fore-wind!” Now that’s a life. You give your order, and then you just watch, how the sailors around like little lighting bolts, and set all the sails and all the braces in motion. And you just can’t help yourself, and you just yell, cause you can’t help yourself, “That away, mateys!”

He starts coughing, which the MC uses as an excuse to interrupt.

MC: On this day, ladies and gentlemen, we have gathered here, in order to celebrate the most significant and beautiful event in these young people lives…

Revunov: (Interrupts.) Yes, sir! And you have to be quick on your feet to understand all this Navy talk, because a captain, he’s not in the habit of repeating himself. Like when he says: (Yells.) “Raise the topsail, lower the mainsail!”

MC: (To Nyunin, and Nastasya Timofeyevna.) Can you do something about him! People have to make speeches!

Nastasya Timofeyevna: Your Excellency, please forgive me, we’re just simple people, all this jargon and specialized Naval language is way over heads. Now, if you could maybe say … a token thing … for our bride and groom, that’d be superb …

Revunov: Supper? I’ve been eating supper this whole time, but did you say chicken wing? I didn’t see any chicken wings. And it’s a life isn’t, young man. There you are, sailing across the ocean, not a care in the world, and then, oh! Oh! OH! Remember how it felt, when you were tacking? What sailor won’t get a tear in his eye, when he remembers tacking. What a maneuver! Yes sir, you call the crew to the deck, you give them the orders for tacking, and its like a shot of electricity goes through every single one of them, from captain to cabin boy.

Guests begin grumbling.

Zmeyukina: Boring! This is boring!

Revunov: Herring, I already had herring, thank you very much. And everybody is at their places, with eyes glued to the first-mate. “Topsail gallants and topsail braces to the starboard side, main and counter-braces to the port.” And before you know it, the topsails are pulled, the jib-sheets are stretched… (rising to his feet.) the ship moves into the wind, and the sails belly up with life! And the first-mate yells: (You know what to do.) “To the braces! Don’t slack the braces!” and meanwhile he’s watching the mainsail, and when the mainsail is full, and the ship is turning, he yells at the top of his lungs, “Let go of the braces! Loosen the halyards!” And suddenly the whole ship quakes, like the god-damn hanging gardens of god-damn Babylon22, the lines are rushing everywhere at once – and you think the whole thing is going to get torn apart – but then … it just stops, its all over, and your with the wind, and the maneuver was flawless!

IX. Storm Scene.

Nastasya Timofeyevna: (Blowing up.) General! Will you please stop! I’m sorry, but we’ve already heard enough! At your age, you have to understand these things!

Revunov: Wings? Sure, I’ll have some more wings. Thank you very much.

Nastasya Timofeyevna: (Yelling.) No that’s not what I said! I said at your age, General you have to understand these things!

Nyunin: (Embarrassed.) Please, really, this is not necessary. Really …22 One of the Seven Wonders of The World, eventually destroyed by earthquakes.

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Revunov: Firstly I’m not a general. I’m a captain, 2nd class, which is equivalent to a colonel.

Nastasya Timofeyevna: Not a general! Not a general! Then what did we pay you for! We certainly didn’t pay you to behave like this!

Revunov: Pay me? For what?

Nastasya Timofeyevna: Oh don’t play these games with me! You know exactly what I’m talking about. I don’t doubt for a minute you got your fair share for this little job from your friend Andrei Andreyevich here. And you! Andrei Andreyevich! How could you bring this good for nothing low-life bum to my daughter’s wedding!

Nyunin: Well, I, what, you know, I had no idea.

Revunov: Fair share? Job? Bum? What the hell’s going on?

Aplombov: Are you actually trying to say you did not get money from Andrei Andreyevich?

Revunov: What money? (Getting it.) Oh, I get it. I see what’s going on! This is despicable! Absolutely despicable!

Aplombov: Did you or did you not get paid to come here?

Revunov: No of course I didn’t get paid to come here! How dare you even say that. To insult an old man! A veteran! A decorated officer! If I was the man I was back in the Navy, I’d have called you to a duel! And then you’d know who your messing with, sonny boy! Well, I’m not staying here another second! (Begins to leave and gets lost.) Damn it where’s the door? Waiter! Get me out of here! Waiter! (Goes.) The audacity! The sheer audacity!

Exit the Captain. Beat.

X. The most significant and beautiful event in these young people lives!!!!

Nastasya Timofeyevna: Oh Andrei, my dear. Where’s the money I gave you?

Nyunin: Hey come on, lets not get into this now. I mean it’s a wedding party right? People are having fun, so lets have fun! To the bride and groom! Music, play the god-damn music!

The orchestra plays music.

Nyunin: To the bride and groom!

Zmeyukina: Oh its stifling here! I need atmosphere! You people are stifling me!. (Exit.)

Yats: What a woman! God, what a woman! (Exit.)

Zhigalov: Swindlers! (Exit.)

Dimba: This we don’t have in Greece! (Exit.)

More noise from all the guests, with the MC trying to top them all.

MC: People! Ladies and gentlemen! Ladies and gentlemen, please! On this day, ladies and gentlemen, we have gathered here, in order to celebrate the most significant and beautiful event in these young people lives!!!!

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Curtain.

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ACT III

The Unwilling Tragic Hero

Ivan Vasileevich Lomov, now the father of a household.

Alexei Alexeevich Muraishkin, his friend.

A room in Muraishkin’s flat in Petersburg. A comfortable study with a couch and a writing table where Muraishkin is sitting. Lomov enters carrying a glass lamp shade, a small child’s’ bicycle, etc. He is exhausted and his eyes rove as he enters the room and makes his way to the couch.

Muraishkin: Well, Ivan Vasileevich! Good Lord, its great to see! What the hell brings you here?

Lomov: (Breathing heavily.) My friend, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, but I have to ask you something, just a small tiny little favor – can I borrow your pistol? You know, just until tomorrow.

Muraishkin: A pistol? What the hell do you need a pistol for?

Lomov: I need a pistol! Oh, god, I’m sorry. Water, can you get me some water? I just need a pistol alright? You see … I have to travel…ummm…. Tonight … through the forest, and well, it’s a dark forest, and you never know what might happen. So come on, do me this for me, and let me borrow a pistol.

Muraishkin: You know, I don’t believe you. You’re lying. There’s no dark forest going to your boarding camp. You’re up to something, aren’t you? I can see it in your face. What the hell is going on? Huh? Are you going crazy?

Lomov: Wait let me just catch my breath … oh, mother of god. I’m exhausted, I’m exhausted like a dog. My body, my head, I feel like I’ve been put through a meat grinder. I can’t take it anymore. So, just be my friend, and lets not go into any details, just get me a god-damn pistol! I’m begging you!

Muraishkin: Whoa! Easy now, hold on. Ivan Vasileevich, what the hell are you talking about? You, are the father of a household, you have responsibilities! You should be ashamed of yourself.

Lomov: The father of a household! The father of a household! I’m not the father of a household! I’m the slave of a household! I’m the little bitch, the gopher, who is still hanging around god knows why. I’m the rag, the door mat, the whipping boy. Why! Why am I living! Why am I putting myself

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through this! Tell me, why am I living? Why am I suffering these torments of my brain and body? I mean, if there was a nobler cause, a reason, I could understand and appreciate, but no, its all for women’s dresses, for lamp shades, well to hell with it! No!! I’m done with it! I’m done!

Muraishkin: Hey, stop shouting. I got neighbors.

Lomov: Well, let them hear, I don’t care! If you don’t give me a pistol, somebody else will. One way or the other I am done with it! That’s it!

Muraishkin: Slow down my friend. Look at this, you tore the button off my shirt. Now, you need to slow down, you need to take a breather, and you need to explain to me, so I can understand, why your life is suddenly so tragic.

Lomov: Why is my life so tragic? You want me to explain it to you? I’ll explain it you, oh yes, I will explain it you. I’ll just lay it all out for you, and maybe, who knows, I’ll feel a little better, breathe a little easier. So lets just sit down here and you listen alright … oh god, I still can’t breathe … So let’s take today, for example, this glorious day of today. Yes, let’s just start with that. As you know, Natalya Stepanovna, my darling wife, decided that we would run a boarding camp outside of the city, and that I should work in the city in the treasurers office, right? Right. Well, today as usual I’m there in the office from ten to four, and it is one of the most horrific places in the world. Its hot, its muggy, there are flies, there are crowds, and there is complete and utter chaos. And I mean chaos. Today, was extra-specially wonderful, because you see, the Chief-Secretary is on vacation, and Hrap-off is getting himself married, and the interns are god knows where, either in the country, where I belong, or involved in some romantic nonsense, apparently, or, get this, trying to be the next big stars of the amateur theatre scene. And the clowns that are still around, are barely awake, totally stupid, and completely incompetent. Like the ding-bat who is substituting for the Chief-Secretary, is this half-dead old geezer, who is deaf in one ear, and apparently also in love. Meanwhile everyone who comes in to the place is running around like crazy, yelling and demanding and threatening. I mean, there is so much screaming and shouting, you can hardly hear yourself think. There is so much smoke in the place, it’s as thick as fog. Its just plain insanity covered in smoke. And for me, its like I’m driving nails inside my forehead. Receipt, reference, stamp, next! Receipt, reference, stamp, next! Receipt, reference, stamp, next! Over, and over, and over, like I’m staring at the waves on a beach, back and forth all day long. My eyes are crawling out of my head, I’m ready to rip my skin off….Let me get some more water…So when I’m finally done, I feel like a broken man, like I’m dead inside, and all I want to do is get some food, and go to bed. But no! No, no, no! Don’t forget that you, my friend are the father of a household, which means that you my friend, are the slave, the rag, and the door mat that has to do every one’s little chores, so come on errand boy, its time to do the errands. Because, well, it just so happens, that in our fine little establishment, our beautiful little country boarding-camp, we have a particular little custom; if the owner of said boarding-camp, happens to plan a trip into town, then not only his darling wife, which goes without saying, but also, every god-damn lodger is entitled to ask him for a little favor. The wife, she orders you to go to the tailor’s, to ball her out, because apparently the new bodice is too wide in the bust, and too narrow in the collar; and then Sonyachka, she needs new shoes; and then the sister-in-law, she needs pattern silk at twenty kopecks a yard … but wait, hold on … let me just show you something … (he takes out a tattered note out of his pocket and reads) … one lamp-globe; one pound of pork sausage; five kopecks of cloves and cinnamon; one bottle of castor oil for Mischa; ten pounds of granulated sugar, using the (heavy as all hell) copper jar from home to carry it; one bottle of carbolic acid; ten kopecks worth of insect powder; twenty bottles of beer; three jars of vinegar; and a corset from Mlle. Shanso, model no. 82! And don’t forget to bring home Mischa’s fall coat. Well, that’s the family business. Now for our dear friends and neighbors, damn them all. Tomorrow is darling little Vova Vlasinsky’s birthday, so can you please pick up one of those darling little bicycles for him; and then Mrs. Lieutenant-General is having woman issues, none-of-your business, but couldn’t you just be a doll, and stop in to the midwife Zmeyukina, ever single day to ask her if she would be kind enough to pay her a visit; and so on and on and on. I have five more notes like this in my pockets, and my handkerchief is all tied up in knots. So you see my friend, between the time of

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getting off of work at the office, and catching the train, I have to run around the entire city like a dog with its tongue hanging out – I’m running, and running, and running, and cursing the day I was born, first to the store, then the pharmacy, then the tailor, then the butcher, then back to the pharmacy, back to the store, back to the butcher, and somewhere you bump into something, somewhere you forget your change, somewhere you forget to pay, and you get chased like a wild animal, and somewhere you accidentally, god-forbid, step on a woman’s hem; (Sigh.) - Its like coming out of a war, you end up with post-traumatic stress, your bones shaking, and you go to sleep, and you dream of blood and crocodiles! But still, through thick and thin, somehow you’ve managed to finish your errands, good for you, but now what? How are you going to get all this crap home? How are you, for example, going to pack, your heavy copper pot, heavier now by ten pounds of sugar, with your fragile glass lamp-globe? How are you going to coordinate, for example, your bottle of carbolic acid with your bag of precious tea? Or how about negotiating darling little Vova’s darling little bicycle with twenty god-forsaken bottles of beer? It’s a bit of a quandary, a bit of a dilemma, a bit of a head-splitting migraine. And it doesn’t matter how you try, it doesn’t matter what you do, or how clever you are, no, something will inevitably break, or fall out, or rip. And there you are standing on the train platform, and all you can do is just laugh, as you peer through the hole in the bag out of which something absolutely ridiculous, like the carbolic-acid, has just fallen and smashed to the ground. But yet you find a way to keep going, you get on the train, and its crowded like a can of fish, with everybody basically hating each other, and most of all you because of the mountain of crap you’ve brought on board, and they are complaining about how you personally are taking up the entire train car. “What, you think you own this train buddy?” And they threaten to call the conductor to kick you off at the next station. And what can I do! I just stand there, batting my eyes, like the ass that I am. But the saga continues. It continues, believe me. You finally get home. Ah home sweet home. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a drink, a meal, and put all this misery behind you. But no! Life is not done tearing you a new one! Because the darling wife has been anxiously awaiting your arrival, and before you can finish slurping up some soup, she’s already sunk her fangs into you. Because you see, she’s got plans, for the evening, for the theater, or the god-damn ball. And you are “the husband” which means of course, that you have no rights and you are going, because you are an animal to be kicked around and abused, and there is no Animal Protection Agency for Husbands now is there. So you go, and you sit, with a dumb-as-a-post look on your face, as you watch a bunch of idiots “performing” some god-forsaken nonsense called “A Family Affair”; and you applause because the wife has poked you in the ribs at the correct moment; and you concentrate and concentrate all your moral discipline to prevent you from screaming out in utter anguish. And then at the ball, guess whose job it is to find the wife her dancing partners? Oh yes, indeed, what else is a husband for. And if there are no cavaliers available, well then guess who has to step it up to do god-damn grande-rounde. So you finally get back home, no earlier then midnight, of course, you are a not a living person anymore. You a piece of wax, brainless, dead inside. But its alright. Its alright, because you know what, now, now you are going to bed. You change into your pajamas, and climb under the covers. Ahh. So nice. So warm and cozy and sweet, and restful. Eyes clothes slowly. Everything is murmuring away. The kids are quiet in the other room, the wife is somewhere .. else. Yes, everything is nice and quiet. And you start to doze off, when suddenly, suddenly…BZZZZZ! BZZZZZ! Mosquitoes! (Pops up.) Mos-qui-toes!! May they all die in agony, every single one of them! (Shakes his fists in the air.) It’s like the plagues of Egypt, its like the Inquisition! BZZZZ! Buzzing! Buzzing so pitifully, as if they are asking for forgiveness, for how they are about to bite you, so sharply that you have to scratch yourself for the next hour. You swat at them, you try to smoke them out, you hide under the covers, but its useless. So then you say, forget it, I can’t take it anymore, just go ahead, go ahead, eat me! And then you think you are starting to get used to the torture of the mosquitoes, but there is yet another plague in store for you. Yes, indeed. The wife, you see, is a member of an amateur singing group, and they are all of them in the parlor at this very moment, practicing, their little numbers. Because they can’t possibly rehearse during the day. It has to be, oh it has to be at night. The Tenors!! – may god strike them down with an anvil. They are worse then the mosquitoes! “I did love you, but you drove me insane…” Oh the horror! They are evil!! And I’m dieing. My soul is being torn out of me shrill note after shrill note. And this goes on till four in the god-damn morning, with me drumming on my ears to drown them out. Oh God! Let me have some more water my friend… and so of

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course the next day begins, at six a.m., I haven’t slept, and off I trudge to the train station, actually I run, because god-forbid I miss the train. And the road to the station is dirty, the air is thick with fog, and its cold and damp! And then I get to the city, and the whole thing starts from the very beginning, and that is how I live. And I’ll tell, I wouldn’t wish this kind of life on my worst enemy. Because I am a broken man, my health is deteriorating. I have asthma, heartburn, my vision is cloudy, and I’m always paranoid. I’m turning into a full-fledged psychopath. I mean, just between you and me, I might actually have to go see some one for help, a witch-doctor or something, because I’m telling you, there is something that is starting to really possess me. I mean there are times when things get really bad, like when the mosquitoes are buzzing, or when those god-forsaken tenors are … tenoring, its like I lose vision completely and I start running around the room like I’ve been set on fire, and I start screaming: “Blood! Give me blood!” And all I want to do is stick a knife in someone, or to crack them over the head with a chair. This is what my life has become! And nobody gives a damn at all; there’s no sympathy; as a matter of fact – people laugh, they laugh at me! But you have to understand, I’m just like everybody else, I just want to live. It maybe funny to them, but for me this isn’t some kind of comedy, it’s a tragedy, that I am actually suffering through! And if you don’t give me a god-damn pistol, then at the very least spare an ounce of sympathy.

Beat.

Muraishkin: Wow. Wow. I sympathize. I mean totally.

Lomov: Thank you. I can see that you do… Thank you. Well, I better get going, I guess. I still have to get the anchovies, the sausage, tooth powder, and then I have to get to the station.

Muraishkin: Hey where exactly is your boarding camp?

Lomov: On Feeble Stream.

Muraishkin: No! Really? Listen, do you know Olga Pavlovna Finberg?

Lomov: Yes, actually I do know her. She lives, kind of closer to there.

Muraishkin: Get out of here! That’s perfect! That would be so convenient, and helpful …

Lomov: What are you talking about?

Muraishki: Listen buddy, do me a little favor? Tell me that you can do this?

Lomov: What are you talking about?

Muraishkin: Look, I really need this. As a friend. I’m begging you, please. I need you to pay her a visit. First of all, tell her, that I think about her all the time, and that she means the world to me. And then I need you to give her something from me. She asked me, a while back, to get her a sewing machine. Well, I did, but I could never get out there, and since you actually live in the area … and actually I have some other things, a small canary in a bird cage, but you have to be real careful with it or the latch might open, and … Why are you looking at me like that?

Lomov: Sewing machine … bird cage … canaries, turtle doves …

Muraishkin: Ivan Vasileevich … what the hell’s wrong with you? You look like you’re going to explode.

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Lomov: Yes!! Give me the sewing machine! Where is the bird-cage! And there’s room for you too! Yes!! Go ahead! Eat me up! Tear me to pieces! Beat me to the ground!! (Shakes his fists.) Blood! Give me blood! Blood! Blood!

Muraishkin: You’re crazy!

Lomov: (Starts for him.) I want blood! I want blood!

Muraishkin: He’s gone crazy! Help! Help! Marya! Petrushka! Where are you! Help!

Lomov: (Chasing him now around the room.) Blood! Give me blood!!

Curtain.

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