eBook - ePub
Ivanov
Full Text and Introduction
Anton Chekhov, Stephen Mulrine
This is a test
Share book
- 128 pages
- English
- ePUB (mobile friendly)
- Available on iOS & Android
eBook - ePub
Ivanov
Full Text and Introduction
Anton Chekhov, Stephen Mulrine
Book details
Book preview
Table of contents
Citations
About This Book
Drama Classics: The World's Great Plays at a Great Little Price
Set in a country weighed down by political, ideological and spiritual stagnation, Chekhov's compelling early play is rooted in the revolutionary atmosphere of Russia at the turn of the 20th century.
Anton Chekhov's play Ivanov was first performed in 1887 at the Korsh Theatre in Moscow.
This English version, in the Nick Hern Books Drama Classics series, is translated and introduced by Stephen Mulrine, with notes on Further Reading, a Chronology and a Pronunciation Guide.
Frequently asked questions
How do I cancel my subscription?
Can/how do I download books?
At the moment all of our mobile-responsive ePub books are available to download via the app. Most of our PDFs are also available to download and we're working on making the final remaining ones downloadable now. Learn more here.
What is the difference between the pricing plans?
Both plans give you full access to the library and all of Perlegoās features. The only differences are the price and subscription period: With the annual plan youāll save around 30% compared to 12 months on the monthly plan.
What is Perlego?
We are an online textbook subscription service, where you can get access to an entire online library for less than the price of a single book per month. With over 1 million books across 1000+ topics, weāve got you covered! Learn more here.
Do you support text-to-speech?
Look out for the read-aloud symbol on your next book to see if you can listen to it. The read-aloud tool reads text aloud for you, highlighting the text as it is being read. You can pause it, speed it up and slow it down. Learn more here.
Is Ivanov an online PDF/ePUB?
Yes, you can access Ivanov by Anton Chekhov, Stephen Mulrine in PDF and/or ePUB format, as well as other popular books in Letteratura & Teatro europeo. We have over one million books available in our catalogue for you to explore.
Information
Topic
LetteraturaSubtopic
Teatro europeoACT ONE
The garden of IVANOVās estate. At left, the front of the house, with a veranda. One window is open. In front of the house, a wide semicircular area, from which paths lead off right and centre to other parts of the garden. At right, some garden seats and small tables, on one of which a lamp is burning. Evening is drawing on. As the curtain rises, a piano and cello duet can be heard from inside the house.
IVANOV is sitting at a table reading a book. BORKIN appears at the bottom of the garden in top-boots, carrying a shotgun. He is a little drunk. Catching sight of IVANOV, he tiptoes up to him and points the gun at his head.
IVANOV (starts up in alarm). Misha, for Godās sake! You gave me a fright. Iāve got enough on my plate without your silly jokes. (Sits down again.) I suppose you think thatās funny.
BORKIN (chuckling). Alright, alright, Iām sorry. (Sits down beside him.) I wonāt do it again, I promise. (Takes off his cap.) Phew, itās hot! Would you believe ā Iāve just ridden fifteen miles in under three hours? Iām worn out. Look, feel that ā thatās my heart pounding.
IVANOV (reading his book). Yes, fine ā later.
BORKIN. No, listen. Feel, right now. (Takes IVANOVās hand and places it on his chest.) You hear that? Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom . . . Thatās a sign of heart trouble, that is. I could drop dead any minute. Would it upset you, dāyou think, if I died?
IVANOV. Not now ā Iām trying to read.
BORKIN. No, but seriously ā would you be upset, if I suddenly dropped dead? Nikolai Alekseyevich, would you be upset if I died?
IVANOV. Oh, stop pestering me!
BORKIN. My dear, just tell me ā would it upset you?
IVANOV. Youāre reeking of vodka, thatās what upsets me! Itās disgusting, Misha.
BORKIN (laughs). Am I really? Well, that is a surprise. Actually, thereās nothing surprising about it. I happened to bump into the magistrate in Plesniki, and the pair of us, would you believe, downed about eight vodkas each. And not to put too fine a point on it, drinkingās bad for you. I mean, isnāt it? Eh? Itās bad for you, right?
IVANOV. Oh, this is intolerable! Youāre doing this deliberately to annoy me, Misha.
BORKIN. Alright, Iām sorry, Iām sorry. Sit down, for goodnessā sake. (Stands up, makes to exit.) Honestly, some people ā you canāt even have a word with them! (Comes back.) Oh yes, I almost forgot . . . Eighty-two roubles, please.
IVANOV. What eighty-two roubles?
BORKIN. To pay the workmen tomorrow.
IVANOV. I havenāt got it.
BORKIN. Well, thank you most humbly! (Mimicking him.) āI havenāt got it.ā I mean, the men have to be paid. Havenāt they?
IVANOV. I donāt know. Iāve got nothing today. If you can wait till the first of the month, till I get my salary.
BORKIN. You know, itās a waste of time even discussing these things with you. The menāll be here for their money tomorrow morning, not the first of the month!
IVANOV. So what do you want me to do? You keep nagging me, youāre worse than toothache. And you have a nasty habit of badgering me just when Iāve started to read or write or whatever . . .
BORKIN. Iām asking you ā do the men get paid or not? Oh, this is pointless! (Waves his hands dismissively.) Huh, landowners, gentlemen farmers ā the hell with the lot of them! Call themselves agriculturists ā three thousand acres and not a penny to show for it! Like having a wine-cellar and no corkscrew! Well, Iāll just have to sell the horse and cart tomorrow. Yes, sir, I might just do that. Iāve already sold the oats before theyāre even harvested, and Iāll do the same tomorrow with the rye. (Paces up and down the stage.) You think I wonāt? Well, sir, if thatās what you think, youāve got the wrong man.
SHABELSKY and ANNA PETROVNA are inside the house meanwhile, and SHABELSKY is heard through the open window.
SHABELSKY. Really, itās quite impossible trying to play with you! Youāve no ear for music, and your touch is dreadful. Youāre about as sensitive as a stuffed pike!
ANNA P (appearing at the open window). Who was that talking just now? Was that you, Misha? What are you doing, pacing up and down like that?
BORKIN. Itās that Monsieur Nicolas of yours ā heād drive you to it!
ANNA P. Listen, Misha ā tell the servants to cart some hay over to the croquet lawn.
BORKIN (with a dismissive wave). Oh, leave me in peace . . .
ANNA P. You know, thatās no way to talk, it does nothing for you. Not if you want to be a hit with the ladies. You shouldnāt ever let them see you in a bad mood, or on your high horse. (To her husband.) Come on, Nikolai, letās go and tumble in the hay!
IVANOV. Anna, itās not good for your health, standing at that open window. Go back in, please do. (Shouts.) Uncle, close the window! (The window is closed.)
BORKIN. And donāt forget youāve to pay the interest to Lebedev, day after tomorrow.
IVANOV. Yes, I know. Iām going over to Lebedevās later today, and Iāll ask him if heād mind waiting . . . (Looks at his watch.)
BORKIN. So when are you going?
IVANOV. In a minute.
BORKIN. No, hold on, wait! Itās Sashaās birthday today, isnāt it. (Tuts.) I almost forgot. Honestly, what a memory. (Springs to his feet.) Iāll come! Yes, Iāll come with you. (Sings.) Iāll come with you! Iāll have a bath, chew some paper, with three drops of ammonia, and Iāll be as right as rain. Dear Nikolai Alekseyevich ā God love you, my angel, but youāre a bundle of nerves, down in the dumps all the time, complaining. I mean, just think of the things we could do together, you and I, thereād be no stopping us! And Iād do anything for you, you know that. Would you like me to marry the widow Babakin? You can have half of her dowry, itās yours. No, take all of it ā take the lot, damn it!
IVANOV. Donāt talk such rubbish!
BORKIN. No, Iām serious. Do you want me to marry her, young Marfa? Split the dowry fifty-fifty? But why am I telling you this, youāre not even listening. (Mimicking him.) āDonāt talk such rubbish!ā You know, youāre a decent fellow, quite intelligent, but thereās something lacking, some sort of vital spark. You should break out once in a while, and to hell with the consequences. Youāre neurotic, forever whining ā yet if you were a normal person, you could make a million in a year. For instance, if I had two thousand, three hundred roubles right now, Iād have twenty thousand in two weeksā time. You donāt believe me? Iām still talking rubbish? Alright, then, give me twenty-three hundred roubles, and within a week Iāll make twenty thousand for you. Ovsyanovās selling a strip of land, right opposite ours, for twenty-three hundred. If we buy that land, both banks of the riverāll belong to us. And if we own both banks, weāll be entitled to dam the river. Right? So we can start building a mill, and the minute word gets round that weāre planning to dam the river, all the people downstreamāll raise merry hell, and weāll just tell them straight ā if you donāt want a dam, youāll have to cough up. Dāyou follow me? The Zarevsky factory ā letās say five thousand; the Korolkov, three thousand; the monastery, five thousand . . .
IVANOV. Thatās sharp practice, Misha. Keep your thoughts to yourself, unless you want an argument.
BORKIN (sits down at the table). Yes, of course ā I mightāve known. Youāre not prepared to do anything, and my hands are tied.
Enter SHABELSKY and LVOV from the house.
SHABELSKY. Doctors are like lawyers, with one difference. Lawyers rob you blind, but doctors rob you blind, then murder you . . . Present company excepted, of course. (Sits down on a garden seat.) Yes, charlatans and exploiters . . . Maybe in some ideal world, you might bump into some exceptions to the rule, but . . . in the course of a lifetime I mustāve paid out twenty thousand roubles in doctorās fees, and Iāve never met one yet who didnāt strike me as a licensed swindler.
BORKIN (to IVANOV.) Yes, you wonāt do anything, and my hands are tied. Thatās why weāve no money . . .
SHABELSKY. Iāll say again, Iām not talking about present company . . . Maybe there are exceptions, although, generally speaking . . . (Yawns.)
IVANOV (closing his book). Well, Doctor?
LVOV (looking back at the window). Same as I said this morning: she needs to go to the Crimea as soon as possible. (Pacing up and down.)
SHABELSKY (with a snort of laughter). Crimea! . . . Why donāt you and I take up medicine, Misha? Itās a piece of cake . . . Madame So-and-so gets a tickle in her throat, starts coughing out of sheer boredom, and we take a piece of paper, apply our science, and prescribe as follows: first, one young doctor, then a trip to the Crimea, where some handsome young Tartar . . .
IVANOV (to SHABELSKY) Oh, donāt be such a bore! (To LVOV.) Trips to the Crimea cost money. And supposing I can find the money, sheāll almost certainly refuse to go.
LVOV. Yes, I know. (A pause.)
BORKIN. Listen, Doctor ā seriously, is Anna Petrovna so ill that she has to go to the Crimea?
LVOV (looks round at the window). Yes . . . tuberculosis.
BORKIN. Phew! Thatās bad. Actually, the way she looks, Iāve thought for some time she wouldnāt last long.
LVOV. Anyway . . . keep your voice down. They can hear you inside. (A pause.)
BORKIN (sighs). You know, this life of ours . . . A manās life is like a little flower, blossoming in a meadow. Along comes a goat, and eats it ā no more flower.
SHABELSKY. Nonsense. Nonsense, and more nonsense . . . (Yawns.) Piffle and balderdash. (A pause.)
BORKIN. Meanwhile, gentlemen, Iāve just been instructing Nikolai Alekseyevich on how to get his hands on some money. Iāve given him a brilliant idea, but my seedās fallen on stony ground, same as usual. You canāt get through to the man. I mean, just look at him ā the picture of melancholy, spleen, depression, downright misery . . .
SHABELSKY (stands up and stretches). Youāre a regular brainbox, ever ready with some wonderful idea, teaching us all how to live ā well, I wish you really did have something to teach me, just once. So come on, clever clogs, show me a way out of this mess . . .
BORKIN (stands up). Iām going for a swim. Goodbye, gentlemen . . . (To SHABELSKY.) You have at least twenty ways out. Put me in your place for a week, and Iād have twenty...