LISA. What could be better? It was wonderful.
LYÚBA. Schumann is good, but all the same Chopin takes a stronger hold of one’s heart.
STYÓPA. He is more lyrical.
TÓNYA. There is no comparison.
LYÚBA. Do you remember his prelude?
TÓNYA. Oh, the one called the George Sand prelude? Plays the commencement.
LYÚBA. No, not that one. That is very fine, but so hackneyed. Do play this one. Tónya plays what she can of it, and then breaks off.
TÓNYA. Oh, that is a lovely thing. There is something elemental about it — older than creation.
STYÓPA laughs Yes, yes. Do play it. But no, you are too tired. As it is, we have had a delightful morning, thanks to you.
TÓNYA rises and looks out of window There are some more peasants waiting outside.
LYÚBA. That is why music is so precious. I understand Saul. Though I’m not tormented by devils, I still understand him. No other art can make one so forget everything else as music does. Approaches the window. To Peasants Whom do you want?
PEASANTS. We have been sent to speak to Nicholas Ivánovich.
LYÚBA. He is not in. You must wait.
TÓNYA. And yet you are marrying Borís who understands nothing about music.
LYÚBA. Oh, surely not.
BORÍS absently Music? Oh no. I like music, or rather I don’t dislike it. Only I prefer something simpler — I like songs.
TÓNYA. But is not this sonata lovely?
BORÍS. The chief thing is, that it is not important; and it rather hurts me, when I think of the lives men live, that so much importance is attached to music.
They all eat sweetmeats, which are standing on the table.
LISA. How nice it is to have a fiancé here and sweetmeats provided!
BORÍS. Oh that is not my doing. It’s mamma’s.
TÓNYA. And quite right too.
LYÚBA. Music is precious because it seizes us, takes possession of us, and carries us away from reality. Everything seemed gloomy till you suddenly began to play, and really it has made everything brighter.
LISA. And Chopin’s valses. They are hackneyed, but all the same …
TÓNYA. This … plays.
Enter Nicholas Ivánovich. He greets Borís, Tónya, Styópa, Lisa, Mitrofán Ermílych and the Priest.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. Where’s mamma?
LYÚBA. I think she’s in the nursery.
Styópa calls the Man-servant.
LYÚBA. Papa, how wonderfully Tónya plays! And where have you been?
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. In the village.
Enter servant, Afanásy.
STYÓPA. Bring another samovár.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH greets the Man-servant, and shakes hands with him. Good-day. Servant becomes confused. Exit Servant. Nicholas Ivánovich also goes off.
STYÓPA. Poor Afanásy! He was terribly confused. I can’t understand papa. It is as if we were guilty of something.
Enter Nicholas Ivánovich.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. I was going back to my room without having told you what I feel. To Tónya If what I say should offend you — who are our guest — forgive me, but I cannot help saying it. You, Lisa, say that Tónya plays well. All you here, seven or eight healthy young men and women, have slept till ten o’clock, have eaten and drunk and are still eating; and you play and discuss music: while there, where I have just been, they were all up at three in the morning, and those who pastured the horses at night have not slept at all; and old and young, the sick and the weak, children and nursing-mothers and pregnant women are working to the utmost limits of their strength, so that we here may consume the fruits of their labour. Nor is that all. At this very moment, one of them, the only breadwinner of a family, is being dragged to prison because he has cut down one of a hundred thousand pine-trees that grow in the forest that is called mine. And we here, washed and clothed, having left the slops in our bedrooms to be cleaned up by slaves, eat and drink and discuss Schumann and Chopin and which of them moves us most or best cures our ennui? That is what I was thinking when I passed you, so I have spoken. Consider, is it possible to go on living in this way? Stands greatly agitated.
LISA. True, quite true!
LYÚBA. If one lets oneself think about it, one can’t live.
STYÓPA. Why? I don’t see why the fAct that people are poor should prevent one talking about Schumann. The one does not exclude the other. If one …
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH angrily If one has no heart, if one is made of wood …
STYÓPA. Well, I’ll hold my tongue.
TÓNYA. It is a terrible problem; it is the problem of our day; and we should not be afraid of it, but look it straight in the face, in order to solve it.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. We cannot wait for the problem to be solved by public measures. Every one of us must die — if not to-day, then to-morrow. How can I live without suffering from this internal discord?
BORÍS. Of course there is only one way; that is, not to take part in it at all.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. Well, forgive me if I have hurt you. I could not help saying what I felt. Exit.
STYÓPA. Not take part in it? But our whole life is bound up with it.
BORÍS. That is why he says that the first step is to possess no property; to change our whole way of life and live so as not to be served by others but to serve others.
TÓNYA. Well, I see you have quite gone over to Nicholas Ivánovich’s side.
BORÍS. Yes, I now understand it for the first time — after what I saw in the village.… You need only take off the spectacles through which we are accustomed to look at the life of the people, to realise at once the connection between their sufferings and our pleasures — that is enough!
MITROFÁN ERMÍLYCH. Yes, but the remedy does not consist in ruining one’s own life.
STYÓPA. It is surprising how Mitrofán Ermílych and I, though we usually stand poles asunder, come to the same conclusion: those are my very words, “not ruin one’s own life.”
BORÍS. Naturally! You both of you wish to lead a pleasant life, and therefore want life arranged so as to ensure that pleasant life for you. To Styópa You wish to maintain the present system, while Mitrofán Ermílych wants to establish a new one.
Lyúba and Tónya whisper together. Tónya goes to the piano and plays a nocturne by Chopin. General silence.
STYÓPA. That’s splendid; that solves everything.
BORÍS. It obscures and postpones everything!
While Tónya is playing, Mary Ivánovna and the Princess enter quietly and sit down to listen.
Before the end of the nocturne carriage bells are heard outside.
LYÚBA. It is Aunt. Goes to meet her.
The music continues. Enter Alexándra Ivánovna, Father Gerásim (a priest with a cross round his neck) and a Notary. All rise.
FATHER GERÁSIM. Please go on, it is very pleasant.
The Princess approaches to receive his blessing, and the young Priest does the same.
ALEXÁNDRA IVÁNOVNA. I have done exActly what I said I would do. I found Father Gerásim, and you see I have persuaded him to come — he was on his way to Koursk — so I have done my part; and here is the Notary. He has got the deed ready; it only needs signing.
MARY IVÁNOVNA. Won’t you have some lunch?
Notary puts down his papers on the table, and exit.
MARY IVÁNOVNA. I am very grateful to Father Gerásim.
FATHER GERÁSIM. What else could I do — though it was out of my way — yet as a Christian I considered it my duty to visit him.
Alexándra Ivánovna whispers to the young people. They consult together and go out on to the verandah, all except Borís. The young Priest also wants to go.
FATHER GERÁSIM.30 No. You as a pastor and spiritual father must remain here! You may benefit by it yourself, and may be of use to others. Stay here, if Mary Ivánovna has no objection.
MARY IVÁNOVNA. No, I am as fond of Father Vasíly as if he were one of the family. I have even consulted him; but being so young he has not much authority.
FATHER GERÁSIM. Naturally, naturally.
ALEXÁNDRA IVÁNOVNA approaching Well, you see now, Father Gerásim, that you are the only person who can help and can bring him to reason. He is a clever, well-read man, but learning, you know, can only do harm. He is suffering from some sort of delusion. He maintains that the Christian law forbids a man to own any property; but how is that possible?
FATHER GERÁSIM. Temptation, spiritual pride, self-will! The Fathers of the Church have answered the question satisfActorily. But how did this befall him?
MARY IVÁNOVNA. Well, to tell you everything … when we married he was quite indifferent to religion, and we lived so, and lived happily, during our best years — the first twenty years. Then he began to reflect. Perhaps he was influenced by his sister, or by what he read. Anyhow, he began thinking and reading the Gospels, and then suddenly he grew extremely religious, began going to church and visiting the monks. Then all at once he gave all this up and changed his way of life completely. He began doing manual labour, would not let the servants wait on him, and above all he is now giving away his property. He yesterday gave away a forest — both the trees and land. It frightens me, for I have seven children. Do talk to him. I’ll go and ask him whether he will see you. Exit.
FATHER GERÁSIM. Nowadays many are falling away. And is the estate his or his wife’s?
PRINCESS. His! That’s what is so unfortunate.
FATHER GERÁSIM. And what is his official rank?
PRINCESS. His rank is not
