Uncle Vanya

A Play

Anton Chekhov

• Publisher: Open Road Media
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781504061094
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Drama
• Index: Literature

One of the most important dramatic works from the acclaimed Russian playwright and "father of the modern dysfunctional family comedy" ( Hyde Park Herald ). A classic four-act romantic tragedy, Uncle Vanya is essentially a reworking of an earlier Chekhov play, The Wood Demon. It tells the story of a retired university professor and his extended middle-class family. When the professor unexpectedly announces he is about to sell his country estate, scheming between the play's nine principle characters ensues. Tensions crest when their security is threatened and disappointments from the past—unrequited feelings, miseries, and failures—shockingly resurface. One could think of Uncle Vanya, which had its Moscow premiere in 1899 and remains a favorite of theatergoers to this day, "as the forerunner of existential tragicomedies like Waiting for Godot and No Exit. Underlying the characters' boredom, frustration, and desperation is the monumental realization that their lives are meaningless and have no purpose, even if some of them are in denial" ( Hyde Park Herald ). " Uncle Vanya is a study of ennui, unfulfilled desires, and the misery of rural isolation. Yet it's also funny—full of Chekhov's social satire and disdain for hypocrisy." —Go London

Act III.

The drawing-room of SEREBRAKOFF’S house. There are three doors: one to the right, one to the left, and one in the centre of the room.VOITSKI and SONIA are sitting down. HELENA is walking up and down, absorbed in thought.

VOITSKI. We were asked by the professor to be here at one o’clock. [Looks at his watch.] It is now a quarter to one. It seems he has some communication to make to the world.

HELENA. Probably a matter of business.

VOITSKI. He never had any business. He writes twaddle, grumbles, and eats his heart out with jealousy; that’s all he does.

SONIA. [Reproachfully.] Uncle!

VOITSKI. All right. I beg your pardon. [He points to HELENA.] Look at her. Wandering up and down from sheer idleness. A sweet picture, really.

HELENA. I wonder you are not bored, droning on in the same key from morning till night. [Despairingly.] I am dying of this tedium. What shall I do?

SONIA. [Shrugging her shoulders.] There is plenty to do if you would.

HELENA. For instance?

SONIA. You could help run this place, teach the children, care for the sick—isn’t that enough? Before you and papa came, Uncle Vanya and I used to go to market ourselves to deal in flour.

HELENA. I don’t know anything about such things, and besides, they don’t interest me. It is only in novels that women go out and teach and heal the peasants; how can I suddenly begin to do it?

SONIA. How can you live here and not do it? Wait awhile, you will get used to it all. [Embraces her.] Don’t be sad, dearest. [Laughing.] You feel miserable and restless, and can’t seem to fit into this life, and your restlessness is catching. Look at Uncle Vanya, he does nothing now but haunt you like a shadow, and I have left my work to-day to come here and talk with you. I am getting lazy, and don’t want to go on with it. Dr. Astroff hardly ever used to come here; it was all we could do to persuade him to visit us once a month, and now he has abandoned his forestry and his practice, and comes every day. You must be a witch.

VOITSKI. Why should you languish here? Come, my dearest, my beauty, be sensible! The blood of a Nixey runs in your veins. Oh, won’t you let yourself be one? Give your nature the reins for once in your life; fall head over ears in love with some other water sprite and plunge down head first into a deep pool, so that the Herr Professor and all of us may have our hands free again.

HELENA. [Angrily.] Leave me alone! How cruel you are! [She tries to go out.]

VOITSKI. [Preventing her.] There, there, my beauty, I apologise. [He kisses her hand.] Forgive me.

HELENA. Confess that you would try the patience of an angel.

VOITSKI. As a peace offering I am going to fetch some flowers which I picked for you this morning: some autumn roses, beautiful, sorrowful roses. [He goes out.]

SONIA. Autumn roses, beautiful, sorrowful roses!

[She and HELENA stand looking out of the window.]

HELENA. September already! How shall we live through the long winter here? [A pause.] Where is the doctor?

SONIA. He is writing in Uncle Vanya’s room. I am glad Uncle Vanya has gone out, I want to talk to you about something.

HELENA. About what?

SONIA. About what?

[She lays her head on HELENA’s breast.]

HELENA. [Stroking her hair.] There, there, that will do. Don’t, Sonia.

SONIA. I am ugly!

HELENA. You have lovely hair.

SONIA. Don’t say that! [She turns to look at herself in the glass.] No, when a woman is ugly they always say she has beautiful hair or eyes. I have loved him now for six years, I have loved him more than one loves one’s mother. I seem to hear him beside me every moment of the day. I feel the pressure of his hand on mine. If I look up, I seem to see him coming, and as you see, I run to you to talk of him. He is here every day now, but he never looks at me, he does not notice my presence. It is agony. I have absolutely no hope, no, no hope. Oh, my God! Give me strength to endure. I prayed all last night. I often go up to him and speak to him and look into his eyes. My pride is gone. I am not mistress of myself. Yesterday I told Uncle Vanya I couldn’t control myself, and all the servants know it. Every one knows that I love him.

HELENA. Does he?

SONIA. No, he never notices me.

HELENA. [Thoughtfully.] He is a strange man. Listen, Sonia, will you allow me to speak to him? I shall be careful, only hint. [A pause.] Really, to be in uncertainty all these years! Let me do it!

[SONIA nods an affirmative.]

HELENA. Splendid! It will be easy to find out whether he loves you or not. Don’t be ashamed, sweetheart, don’t worry. I shall be careful; he will not notice a thing. We only want to find out whether it is yes or no, don’t we? [A pause.] And if it is no, then he must keep away from here, is that so?

[SONIA nods.]

HELENA. It will be easier not to see him any more. We won’t put off the examination an instant. He said he had a sketch to show me. Go and tell him at once that I want to see him.

SONIA. [In great excitement.] Will you tell me the whole truth?

HELENA. Of course I will. I am sure that no matter what it is, it will be easier for you to bear than this uncertainty. Trust to me, dearest.

SONIA. Yes, yes. I shall say that you want to see his sketch. [She starts out, but stops near the door and looks back.] No, it is better not to know—and yet—there may be hope.

HELENA. What do you say?

SONIA. Nothing. [She goes out.]

HELENA. [Alone.] There is no greater sorrow than to know another’s secret when you cannot help them. [In deep thought.] He is obviously not in love with her, but why shouldn’t he marry her? She is not pretty, but she is so clever and pure and good, she would make a splendid wife for a country doctor of his years. [A pause.] I can understand how the poor child feels. She lives here in this desperate loneliness with no one around her except these colourless shadows that go mooning about talking nonsense and knowing nothing except that they eat, drink, and sleep. Among them appears from time to time this Dr. Astroff, so different, so handsome, so interesting, so charming. It is like seeing the moon rise on a dark night. Oh, to surrender oneself to his embrace! To lose oneself in his arms! I am a little in love with him myself! Yes, I am lonely without him, and when I think of him I smile. That Uncle Vanya says I have the blood of a Nixey in my veins: “Give rein to your nature for once in your life!” Perhaps it is right that I should. Oh, to be free as a bird, to fly away from all your sleepy faces and your talk and forget that you have existed at all! But I am a coward, I am afraid; my conscience torments me. He comes here every day now. I can guess why, and feel guilty already; I should like to fall on my knees at So...