GUESTS gather in the reception room.
IVANOV. Pasha, this conversation is going nowhere. I act as my conscience dictates.
SASHA. And I act as my conscience dictates. You can say what you like, I won’t let you go. Papa, the benediction right now! I’m going to get Mamma . . . (Exits.)
X
IVANOV and LEBEDEV.
LEBEDEV. I don’t understand a thing . . .
IVANOV. Listen, you poor old soul . . . To explain to you who I am — decent or contemptible, sane or psychopath, I won’t even begin. I couldn’t get it through your thick skull. I was young, overenthusiastic, sincere, reasonably intelligent; I loved, hated and had beliefs different from everyone else’s, I worked and hoped for ten men, tilted at windmills, banged my head against walls; without calculating my strength, or reasoning, or knowing life, I hoisted a load on my back, which immediately snapped my spine and strained my sinews; I rushed to consume my one and only youth, I got drunk, got enthused, worked hard; knew no moderation. And tell me: could it be any other way? After all, there aren’t many of us and there’s plenty of work to be done, plenty! God, what plenty! And here’s how life, my adversary, takes its cruel revenge! I wore myself out! Thirty years and the hangover has already set in, I’m old, I already go around in a dressing gown.12 With a heavy head and an indolent mind, worn out, overtaxed, broken, faithless, loveless, aimless, like a shadow, loitering around people, I don’t know: who am I, why am I alive, what do I want? And I’ve started thinking that love is absurd, caresses are cloying, there’s no meaning to hard work, songs and impassioned speeches are vulgar and stale. And wherever I go I bring along tedium, cold boredom, dissatisfaction, distaste for life . . . I’m a hopeless goner! Before you stands a man of thirty-five who’s always exhausted, disenchanted, crushed by the insignificance of what he’s accomplished; he’s burning up with shame, scoffs at his own weakness . . . Oh, how pride mutinies within me, how fury chokes me! (Swaying.) Look how I’ve worn myself out! I’m even staggering . . . I’ve got weak. Where’s Matvey? Let him take me home.
VOICES IN THE RECEPTION ROOM: “The best mans here!”
XI
The same, SHABELSKY, BORKIN, and then LVOV and SASHA.
SHABELSKY (entering). In somebody else’s shabby dress coat . . . with no gloves . . . and for that reason all those sneering looks, stupid jokes, vulgar smiles . . . Disgusting pygmies!
BORKIN (enters quickly with a bouquet; he’s in a tailcoat with a best-man’s favor in his buttonhole). Oof! Where is he? (To ivanov.) They’ve been waiting for you at the church for a long time and here you are talking philosophy. What a comedian! Honest to God, a comedian! After all, you’re not supposed to ride with the bride, but separately with me, then I drive back from the church and pick up the bride. Can’t you even get that right? Positively a comedian!
LVOV (enters, to ivanov). Ah, you’re here? (Loudly.) Nikolay Alekseevich Ivanov, I declare in the hearing of everyone, that you are a bastard!
IVANOV (coldly). Thank you kindly.
General consternation.
BORKIN (to Lvov). My good sir, this is an outrage! I challenge you to a duel!
LVOV. Mister Borkin, I consider it degrading to talk to you, let alone fight you! But Mister Ivanov may receive satisfaction, if he so desires.
SHABELSKY. Dear sir, I’ll fight with you!
SASHA (to Lvov). Why? Why did you insult him? Gentlemen, please, make him tell me: why?
LVOV. Aleksandra Pavlovna, I did not insult him without sufficient reason. I came here as a decent person to open your eyes, and I beg you to hear me out.
SASHA. What can you say? That you’re a decent person? The whole world knows that! You’d better tell me out of your clear conscience: do you understand what you’ve done or don’t you? You came in here just now, Mr. Decent Person, and flung a horrible insult at him, which nearly killed me; in the past, when you dogged him like a shadow, and kept him from living, you were convinced that you were doing your duty, that you are a decent person. You meddled in his private life, badmouthed him and ran him down wherever you could, peppered me and all my friends with anonymous letters, — and all the time you thought you were being a decent person. With the idea that it’s decent, you, a doctor, didn’t even spare his sick wife or give her a moment’s peace with your suspicions. And whatever viciousness, whatever nasty act of cruelty you commit, you’ll go on thinking that you are an exceptionally decent and progressive person!
IVANOV (laughing). This isn’t a wedding, it’s a debating society! Bravo, bravo!
SASHA (to Lvov). So think about that now; do you understand what you’ve done or don’t you? Narrow-minded, heartless people! (Takes Ivanov by the arm.) Let’s get out of here, Nikolay! Father, let’s go!
IVANOV. Where are we to go? Hold on, I’ll put an end to this right now! Youth has re-awakened in me, the original Ivanov has found his voice! (He pulls out a revolver.)
SASHA (screams). I know what he wants to do! Nikolay, for heaven’s sake!
IVANOV. I’ve been on the skids too long, now it’s time to call a halt! Time to know when you’ve worn out your welcome! Step aside! Thank you, Sasha!
SASHA (cries out). Nikolay, for heaven’s sake! Stop him!
IVANOV. Leave me alone!
He runs off to the side and shoots himself.
Curtain
VARIANTS TO
Ivanov, Final Version
Variants from the censor’s copy of 1889, the journal Northern Herald (Severny Vestnik), and Plays (1897).
ACT ONE
page 462 / Replace: first, a young doctor, then a trip to the Crimea, in the Crimea a strapping Tatar . . .
with: first a young doctor, then a trip to the Crimea, in the Crimea a strapping Tatar, on the way back a private train compartment with some dandy, who has lost all his money but is sweet . . . (Censor 1889)