SONYA (sits at the table and leafs through the ledgers). First of all, Uncle Vanya, let’s write up all the accounts. It’s funny the way we’ve let things go. They sent for a bill again today. Write. You write one bill, I’ll do another . . .
VOINITSKY (writes). “Account . . . of Mister . . .”
Both write in silence.
MARINA (yawns). Beddie-bye for me . . .
ASTROV. Stillness. The pens scratch, the cricket chirps. Warm, cozy . . . I don’t feel like leaving here. (The sound of harness bells.) There, they’ve brought the horses . . . All that’s left, therefore, is to say good-bye to you, my friends, to say good-bye to my table and — off we go! (Places the diagram in the portfolio.)
MARINA. Now what are you fussing for? You should sit a while.
ASTROV. Can’t be done.
VOINITSKY (writes). “And carried over from the old debt two seventy-five . . . “
Enter the WORKMAN.
WORKMAN. Mikhail Lvovich, the horses are ready.
ASTROV. I heard. (Gives him the medicine chest, suitcase, and portfolio.) Here, take this. See that you don’t crumple the portfolio.
WORKMAN. Yes, sir. (Exits.)
ASTROV. Well, now . . . (Goes to say good-bye.)
SONYA. When shall we see you again?
ASTROV. Not until summer, I should think. Hardly this winter . . . Naturally, if anything comes up, let me know—I’ll stop by. (Shakes hands.) Thanks for the hospitality, the kindness . . . everything, in short. (Goes to the nanny and kisses her on the head.) Good-bye, old woman.
MARINA. So you’re going without tea?
ASTROV. I don’t want any, Nanny old girl.
MARINA. Maybe you’d like a nip of vodka?
ASTROV (hesitantly). Could be . . .
MARINA exits.
ASTROV (after a pause). For some reason my trace horse42 started limping. I noticed it again yesterday, when Petrushka was leading him to water.
VOINITSKY. Needs a new shoe.
ASTROV. Have to stop at Rozhdestvennoe and look in at the blacksmith’s. Can’t be helped . . . (Walks over to the map of Africa and looks at it.) I suppose there must be a heat-wave over in Africa right now—something awful!
VOINITSKY. I suppose so.
MARINA (returning with a saucer holding a shotglass of vodka and a little piece of bread). Here you are. (ASTROV drinks the vodka.) Your health, dearie. (Bows low.) But you should have a bit o’ bread.
ASTROV. No, this’ll do . . . So, the best of everything! (To Marina.) Don’t see me off, Nanny old girl, there’s no need.
He leaves. SONYA follows with a candle to see him off; MARINA sits in her easy chair.
VOINITSKY (writes). “February second vegetable oil twenty pounds . . . February sixteenth another twenty pounds vegetable oil . . . buckwheat groats . . .”
Pause. The sound of harness bells.
MARINA. He’s gone!
Pause.
SONYA (returning, puts the candle on the table). He’s gone . . .
VOINITSKY (checking over the accounts and making notations). Total . . . fifty . . . twenty-five . . .
SONYA sits and writes.
MARINA (yawns). Uh, bless us sinners . . .
TELEGIN tiptoes in, sits by the door, and quietly strums the guitar.
VOINITSKY (to Sonya, running his hand through her hair). Dearest child, how hard it is! Oh, how hard it is!
SONYA. What can be done, we have to go on living!
Pause.
Uncle Vanya, we will go on living. We will live through a long, long series of days, no end of evenings; we will patiently bear the ordeals that Fate sends us; we will labor for others both now and in our old age, knowing no rest, but when our time comes, we will die meekly and beyond the grave we will tell how we suffered, how we wept, how bitter we felt, and God will take pity on us, and you and I, Uncle Vanya, dear Uncle, shall see a life bright, beautiful, exquisite, we shall rejoice and look upon our present unhappi-ness with forbearance, with a smile — and we’ll be at peace.43 I believe, Uncle, I believe intensely, passionately . . . (Kneels before him and lays her head on his hands; in a weary voice. ) We’ll be at peace!
TELEGIN quietly plays the guitar.
We’ll be at peace! We shall hear the angels, we shall see heaven all diamonds, we shall see how all earthly woes, all our suffering will be submerged in a compassion that will fill up the world, and our life will grow serene, tender, sweet as a caress. I believe, believe . . . (Wipes his tears away with a handkerchief.) Poor, poor Uncle Vanya, you’re crying . . . (Through tears.) You’ve known no joy in your life, but wait, Uncle Vanya, wait . . . We’ll be at peace . . . (Embraces him.) We’ll be at peace!
The WATCHMAN taps. TELEGIN quietly goes on playing; MARIYA VASILYEVNA writes in the margin of a pamphlet; MARINA knits a stocking.
We’ll be at peace!
Curtain slowly falls.
VARIANT TO
Uncle Vanya
Lines come from Plays (1897).
ACT ONE
page 829 / After: My time’s up —
VOINITSKY (to Yelena Andreevna). He doesn’t eat meat either.
ASTROV. Yes, I consider it a sin to kill living things.
NOTES
1 The subtitle of Turgenev’s earlier play A Month in the Country.
2 The names are suggestive but not explicit in their meanings. Serebryakov, “silvery”; Voinitsky, “warrior”; Astrov, “starry”; Telegin, “cart”; “Yelena” is Helen, with hints at Helen of Troy (Offenbach’s rather than Homer’s); and Sofiya is Greek for “wisdom.”
3 Privy councillor, a relatively high civilian position in the table of official ranks, equivalent to a lieutenant-general in the army.
4 “Of course, the doctor has to be played suavely, nobly, in accord with the words of Sonya, who in Act Two calls him beautiful and refined” (Chekhov to his brother Mikhail, February 4, 1897).
5 The nyanya was the children’s nursemaid, who would live in the household until her death, even when the children were grown up, and might care for their children in turn. Compare with Anfisa in Three Sisters and the deceased Nanny in The Cherry Orchard. Astrov banteringly calls her nyanka, a mildly folksy form.
6 In the early 1890s the rural boards increased the number of medical outposts in the small villages, with several beds for in-patients and a dispensary for out-patients. Doctors were expected to look after all the peasants in a given district.