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 Sonia's
feet and beg her forgiveness, and weep.

ASTROFF comes in carrying a portfolio.

ASTROFF. How do you do? [Shakes hands with her] Do you want to see my
sketch?

HELENA. Yes, you promised to show me what you had been doing. Have you
time now?

ASTROFF. Of course I have!

He lays the portfolio on the table, takes out the sketch and fastens it
to the table with thumb-tacks.

ASTROFF. Where were you born?

HELENA. [Helping him] In St. Petersburg.

ASTROFF. And educated?

HELENA. At the Conservatory there.

ASTROFF. You don't find this life very interesting, I dare say?

HELENA. Oh, why not? It is true I don't know the country very well, but
I have read a great deal about it.

ASTROFF. I have my own desk there in Ivan's room. When I am absolutely
too exhausted to go on I drop everything and rush over here to forget
myself in this work for an hour or two. Ivan and Miss Sonia sit rattling
at their counting-boards, the cricket chirps, and I sit beside them and
paint, feeling warm and peaceful. But I don't permit myself this luxury
very often, only once a month. [Pointing to the picture] Look there!
That is a map of our country as it was fifty years ago. The green tints,
both dark and light, represent forests. Half the map, as you see, is
covered with it. Where the green is striped with red the forests were
inhabited by elk and wild goats. Here on this lake, lived great flocks
of swans and geese and ducks; as the old men say, there was a power of
birds of every kind. Now they have vanished like a cloud. Beside the
hamlets and villages, you see, I have dotted down here and there the
various settlements, farms, hermit's caves, and water-mills. This
country carried a great many cattle and horses, as you can see by the
quantity of blue paint. For instance, see how thickly it lies in this
part; there were great herds of them here, an average of three horses to
every house. [A pause] Now, look lower down. This is the country as it
was twenty-five years ago. Only a third of the map is green now with
forests. There are no goats left and no elk. The blue paint is lighter,
and so on, and so on. Now we come to the third part; our country as it
appears to-day. We still see spots of green, but not much. The elk, the
swans, the black-cock have disappeared. It is, on the whole, the picture
of a regular and slow decline which it will evidently only take about
ten or fifteen more years to complete. You may perhaps object that it
is the march of progress, that the old order must give place to the new,
and you might be right if roads had been run through these ruined woods,
or if factories and schools had taken their place. The people then would
have become better educated and healthier and richer, but as it is, we
have nothing of the sort. We have the same swamps and mosquitoes;
the same disease and want; the typhoid, the diphtheria, the burning
villages. We are confronted by the degradation of our country, brought
on by the fierce struggle for existence of the human race. It is the
consequence of the ignorance and unconsciousness of starving, shivering,
sick humanity that, to save its children, instinctively snatches
at everything that can warm it and still its hunger. So it destroys
everything it can lay its hands on, without a thought for the morrow.
And almost everything has gone, and nothing has been created to take its
place. [Coldly] But I see by your face that I am not interesting you.

HELENA. I know so little about such things!

ASTROFF. There is nothing to know. It simply isn't interesting, that's
all.

HELENA. Frankly, my thoughts were elsewhere. Forgive me! I want to
submit you to a little examination, but I am embarrassed and don't know
how to begin.

ASTROFF. An examination?

HELENA. Yes, but quite an innocent one. Sit down. [They sit down] It is
about a certain young girl I know. Let us discuss it like honest people,
like friends, and then forget what has passed between us, shall we?

ASTROFF. Very well.

HELENA. It is about my step-daughter, Sonia. Do you like her?

ASTROFF. Yes, I respect her.

HELENA. Do you like her--as a woman?

ASTROFF. [Slowly] No.

HELENA. One more word, and that will be the last. You have not noticed
anything?

ASTROFF. No, nothing.

HELENA. [Taking his hand] You do not love her. I see that in your eyes.
She is suffering. You must realise that, and not come here any more.

ASTROFF. My sun has set, yes, and then I haven't the time. [Shrugging
his shoulders] Where shall I find time for such things? [He is
embarrassed.]

HELENA. Bah! What an unpleasant conversation! I am as out of breath as
if I had been running three miles uphill. Thank heaven, that is over!
Now let us forget everything as if nothing had been said. You are
sensible. You understand. [A pause] I am actually blushing.

ASTROFF. If you had spoken a month ago I might perhaps have
considered it, but now--[He shrugs his shoulders] Of course, if she is
suffering--but I cannot understand why you had to put me through this
examination. [He searches her face with his eyes, and shakes his finger
at her] Oho, you are wily!

HELENA. What does this mean?

ASTROFF. [Laughing] You are a wily one! I admit that Sonia is suffering,
but what does this examination of yours mean? [He prevents her from
retorting, and goes on quickly] Please don't put on such a look of
surprise; you know perfectly well why I come here every day. Yes, you
know perfectly why and for whose sake I come! Oh, my sweet tigress!
don't look at me in that way; I am an old bird!

HELENA. [Perplexed] A tigress? I don't understand you.

ASTROFF. Beautiful, sleek tigress, you must have your victims! For a
whole month I have done nothing but seek you eagerly. I have thrown over
everything for you, and you love to see it. Now then, I am sure you knew
all this without putting me through your examination. [Crossing his arms
and bowing his head] I surrender. Here you have me--now, eat me.

HELENA. You have gone mad!

ASTROFF. You are afraid!

HELENA. I am a better and stronger woman than you think me. Good-bye.
[She tries to leave the room.]

ASTROFF. Why good-bye? Don't say good-bye, don't waste words. Oh, how
lovely you are--what hands! [He kisses her hands.]

HELENA. Enough of this! [She frees her hands] Leave the room! You have
forgotten yourself.

ASTROFF. Tell me, tell me, where can we meet to-morrow? [He puts his arm
around her] Don't you see that we must meet, that it is inevitable?

He kisses her. VOITSKI comes in carrying a bunch of roses, and stops in
the doorway.

HELENA. [Without seeing VOITSKI] Have pity! Leave me, [lays her head on
ASTROFF'S shoulder] Don't! [She tries to break away from him.]

ASTROFF. [Holding her by the waist] Be in the forest tomorrow at two
o'clock. Will you? Will you?

HELENA. [Sees VOITSKI] Let me go! [Goes to the window deeply
embarrassed] This is appalling!

VOITSKI. [Throws the flowers on a chair, and speaks in great excitement,
wiping his face with his handkerchief] Nothing--yes, yes, nothing.

ASTROFF. The weather is fine to-day, my dear Ivan; the morning was
overcast and looked like rain, but now the sun is shining again.
Honestly, we have had a very fine autumn, and the wheat is looking
fairly well. [Puts his map back into the portfolio] But the days are
growing short.

HELENA. [Goes quickly up to VOITSKI] You must do your best; you must use
all your power to get my husband and myself away from here to-day! Do
you hear? I say, this very day!

VOITSKI. [Wiping his face] Oh! Ah! Oh! All right! I--Helena, I saw
everything!

HELENA. [In great agitation] Do you hear me? I must leave here this very
day!

SEREBRAKOFF, SONIA, MARINA, and TELEGIN come in.

TELEGIN. I am not very well myself, your Excellency. I have been limping
for two days, and my head--

SEREBRAKOFF. Where are the others? I hate this house. It is a regular
labyrinth. Every one is always scattered through the twenty-six enormous
rooms; one never can find a soul. [Rings] Ask my wife and Madame
Voitskaya to come here!

HELENA. I am here already.

SEREBRAKOFF. Please, all of you, sit down.

SONIA. [Goes up to HELENA and asks anxiously] What did he say?

HELENA. I'll tell you later.

SONIA. You are moved. [looking quickly and inquiringly into her face] I
understand; he said he would not come here any more. [A pause] Tell me,
did he?

HELENA nods.

SEREBRAKOFF. [To TELEGIN] One can, after all, become reconciled to being
an invalid, but not to this country life. The ways of it stick in my
throat and I feel exactly as if I had been whirled off the earth and
landed on a strange planet. Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen.
Sonia! [SONIA does not hear. She is standing with her head bowed sadly
forward on her breast] Sonia! [A pause] She does not hear me. [To
MARINA] Sit down too, nurse. [MARINA sits down and begins to knit her
stocking] I crave your indulgence, ladies and gentlemen; hang your ears,
if I may say so, on the peg of attention. [He laughs.]

VOITSKI. [Agitated] Perhaps you do not need me--may I be excused?

SEREBRAKOFF. No, you are needed now more than any one.

VOITSKI. What is it you want of me?

SEREBRAKOFF. You--but what are you angry about? If it is anything I have
done, I ask you to forgive me.

VOITSKI. Oh, drop that and come to business; what do you want?

MME. VOITSKAYA comes in.

SEREBRAKOFF. Here is mother. Ladies and gentlemen, I shall begin. I
have asked you to assemble here, my friends, in order to discuss a very
important matter. I want to ask you for your assistance and advice, and
knowing your unfailing amiability I think I can count on both. I am a
book-worm and a scholar, and am unfamiliar with practical affairs. I
cannot, I find, dispense with the help of well-informed people such as
you, Ivan, and you, Telegin, and you, mother. The truth is, _manet omnes
una nox,_ that is to say, our lives are in the hands of God, and as I
am old and ill, I realise that the time has come for me to dispose of
my property in regard to the interests of my family. My life is nearly
over, and I am not thinking of myself, but I have a young wife and
daughter. [A pause] I cannot continue to live in the country; we were
not made for country life, and yet we cannot afford to live in town on
the income derived from this estate. We might sell the woods, but that
would be an expedient we could not resort to every year. We must find
some means of guaranteeing to ourselves a certain more or less fixed
yearly income. With this object in view, a plan has occurred to me which
I now have the honour of presenting to you for your consideration. I
shall only give you a rough outline, avoiding all details. Our estate
does not pay on an average more than two per cent on the money invested
in it. I propose to sell it. If we then invest our capital in bonds,
it will earn us four to five per cent, and we should probably have a
surplus over of several thousand roubles, with which we could buy a
summer cottage in Finland--

VOITSKI. Hold on! Repeat what you just said; I don't think I heard you
quite right.

SEREBRAKOFF. I said we would invest the money in bonds and buy a cottage
in Finland with the surplus.

VOITSKI. No, not Finland--you said something else.

SEREBRAKOFF. I propose to sell this place.

VOITSKI. Aha! That was it! So you are going to sell the place? Splendid.
The idea is a rich one. And what do you propose to do with my old mother
and me and with Sonia here?

SEREBRAKOFF. That will be decided in due time. We can't do everything at
once.

VOITSKI. Wait! It is clear that until this moment I have never had a
grain of sense in my head. I have always been stupid enough to think
that the estate belonged to Sonia. My father bought it as a wedding
present for my sister, and I foolishly imagined that as our laws were
made for Russians and not Turks, my sister's estate would come down to
her child.

SEREBRAKOFF. Of course it is Sonia's. Has any one denied it? I don't
want to sell it without Sonia's consent; on the contrary, what I am
doing is for Sonia's good.

VOITSKI. This is absolutely incomprehensible. Either I have gone mad
or--or--

MME. VOITSKAYA. Jean, don't contradict Alexander. Trust to him; he knows
better than we do what is right and what is wrong.

VOITSKI. I shan't. Give me some water. [He drinks] Go ahead! Say
anything you please--anything!

SEREBRAKOFF. I can't imagine why you are so upset. I don't pretend
that my scheme is an ideal one, and if you all object to it I shall not
insist. [A pause.]

TELEGIN. [With embarrassment] I not only nourish feelings of respect
toward learning, your Excellency, but I am also drawn to it by family
ties. My brother Gregory's wife's brother, whom you may know; his name
is Constantine Lakedemonoff, and he used to be a magistrate--

VOITSKI. Stop, Waffles. This is business; wait a bit, we will talk of
that later. [To SEREBRAKOFF] There now, ask him what he thinks; this
estate was bought from his uncle.

SEREBRAKOFF. Ah! Why should I ask questions? What good would it do?

VOITSKI. The price was ninety-five thousand roubles. My father paid
seventy and left a debt of twenty-five. Now listen! This place could
never have been bought had I not renounced my inheritance in favour of
my sister, whom I deeply loved--and what is more, I worked for ten years
like an ox, and paid off the debt.

SEREBRAKOFF. I regret ever having started this conversation.

VOITSKI. Thanks entirely to my own personal efforts, the place is
entirely clear of debts, and now, when I have grown old, you want to
throw me out, neck and crop!

SEREBRAKOFF. I can't imagine what you are driving at.

VOITSKI. For twenty-five years I have managed this place, and have sent
you the returns from it like the most honest of servants, and you have
never given me one single word of thanks for my work, not one--neither
in my youth nor now. You allowed me a meagre salary of five hundred
roubles a year, a beggar's pittance, and have never even thought of
adding a rouble to it.

SEREBRAKOFF. What did I know about such things, Ivan? I am not a
practical man and don't understand them. You might have helped yourself
to all you wanted.

VOITSKI. Yes, why did I not steal? Don't you all despise me for not
stealing, when it would have been only justice? And I should not now
have been a beggar!

MME. VOITSKAYA. [Sternly] Jean!

TELEGIN. [Agitated] Vanya, old man, don't talk in that way. Why spoil
such pleasant relations? [He embraces him] Do stop!

VOITSKI. For twenty-five years I have been sitting here with my mother
like a mole in a burrow. Our every thought and hope was yours and yours
only. By day we talked with pride of you and your work, and spoke your
name with veneration; our nights we wasted reading the books and papers
which my soul now loathes.

TELEGIN. Don't, Vanya, don't. I can't stand it.

SEREBRAKOFF. [Wrathfully] What under heaven do you want, anyway?

VOITSKI. We used to think of you as almost superhuman, but now the
scales have fallen from my eyes and I see you as you are! You write on
art without knowing anything about it. Those books of yours which I used
to admire are not worth one copper kopeck. You are a hoax!

SEREBRAKOFF. Can't any one make him stop? I am going!

HELENA. Ivan, I command you to stop this instant! Do you hear me?

VOITSKI. I refuse! [SEREBRAKOFF tries to get out of the room, but
VOITSKI bars the door] Wait! I have not done yet! You have wrecked my
life. I have never lived. My best years have gone for nothing, have been
ruined, thanks to you. You are my most bitter enemy!

TELEGIN. I can't stand it; I can't stand it. I am going. [He goes out in
great excitement.]

SEREBRAKOFF. But what do you want? What earthly right have you to use
such language to me? Ruination! If this estate is yours, then take it,
and let me be ruined!

HELENA. I am going away out of this hell this minute. [Shrieks] This is
too much!

VOITSKI. My life has been a failure. I am clever and brave and strong.
If I had lived a normal life I might have become another Schopenhauer
or Dostoieffski. I am losing my head! I am going crazy! Mother, I am in
despair! Oh, mother!

MME. VOITSKAYA. [Sternly] Listen, Alexander!

SONIA falls on her knees beside the nurse and nestles against her.

SONIA. Oh, nurse, nurse!

VOITSKI. Mother! What shall I do? But no, don't speak! I know what to
do. [To SEREBRAKOFF] And you will understand me!

He goes out through the door in the centre of the room and MME.
VOITSKAYA follows him.

SEREBRAKOFF. Tell me, what on earth is the matter? Take this lunatic out
of my sight! I cannot possibly live under the same roof with him. His
room [He points to the centre door] is almost next door to mine. Let him
take himself off into the village or into the wing of the house, or I
shall leave here at once. I cannot stay in the same house with him.

HELENA. [To her husband] We are leaving to-day; we must get ready at
once for our departure.

SEREBRAKOFF. What a perfectly dreadful man!

SONIA. [On her knees beside the nurse and turning to her father. She
speaks with emotion] You must be kind to us, papa. Uncle Vanya and I
are so unhappy! [Controlling her despair] Have pity on us. Remember how
Uncle Vanya and Granny used to copy and translate your books for you
every night--every, every night. Uncle Vanya has toiled without rest;
he would never spend a penny on us, we sent it all to you. We have not
eaten the bread of idleness. I am not saying this as I should like to,
but you must understand us, papa, you must be merciful to us.

HELENA. [Very excited, to her husband] For heaven's sake, Alexander, go
and have a talk with him--explain!

SEREBRAKOFF. Very well, I shall have a talk with him, but I won't
apologise for a thing. I am not angry with him, but you must confess
that his behaviour has been strange, to say the least. Excuse me, I
shall go to him.

[He goes out through the centre door.]

HELENA. Be gentle with him; try to quiet him. [She follows him out.]

SONIA. [Nestling nearer to MARINA] Nurse, oh, nurse!

MARINA. It's all right, my baby. When the geese have cackled they will
be still again. First they cackle and then they stop.

SONIA. Nurse!

MARINA. You are trembling all over, as if you were freezing. There,
there, little orphan baby, God is merciful. A little linden-tea, and it
will all pass away. Don't cry, my sweetest. [Looking angrily at the door
in the centre of the room] See, the geese have all gone now. The devil
take them!

A shot is heard. HELENA screams behind the scenes. SONIA shudders.

MARINA. Bang! What's that?

SEREBRAKOFF. [Comes in reeling with terror] Hold him! hold him! He has
gone mad!

HELENA and VOITSKI are seen struggling in the doorway.

HELENA. [Trying to wrest the revolver from him] Give it to me; give it
to me, I tell you!

VOITSKI. Let me go, Helena, let me go! [He frees himself and rushes in,
looking everywhere for SEREBRAKOFF] Where is he? Ah, there he is! [He
shoots at him. A pause] I didn't get him? I missed again? [Furiously]
Damnation! Damnation! To hell with him!

He flings the revolver on the floor, and drops helpless into a chair.
SEREBRAKOFF stands as if stupefied. HELENA leans against the wall,
almost fainting.

HELENA. Take me away! Take me away! I can't stay here--I can't!

VOITSKI. [In despair] Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?

SONIA. [Softly] Oh, nurse, nurse!

The curtain falls.

In the drawing room, Vanya and Sonya sit; Helen, deep in thought, walks up to them. Vanya complains to the ladies that Serebryakov wants to speak to them, no doubt about something pointless. He mocks Helen for her charming laziness, and Helen furrows her brow. She tells him to stop and says that she is excessively bored. Sonya suggests that there are plenty of things for her to do, such as working on the farm, or teaching, or nursing. Helen simply replies that she cannot to do that sort of thing. Sonya tells her that her boredom is infectious, and that she could certainly teach. Vanya sneers that Helen has mermaid's blood and ought to just fall into the river with a river-god. Helen is angry, even when Vanya apologizes and kisses her hand. She wonders how they will ever get through the winter. After Vanya leaves, Sonya confides in Helen that she is sad that she is not beautiful. Helen compliments her hair, but this does not comfort Sonya. She loves Astrov's voice, his hand, and the sound of him arriving at the house, but he doesn't seem to even notice her. Helen thoughtfully says she will talk to him on her behalf; Sonya is pleased but a bit agitated, and makes Helen promise to tell her exactly what he says. Helen does; the plan is for Sonya to tell Astrov that Helen wants to see his maps. After Sonya departs, Helen muses aloud that Astrov certainly does not love Sonya; however, even though she is not beautiful, she would make him a good wife because she is clever and unspoiled. Helen feels like she understands Sonya, and she certainly understands ghastly boredom and how Astrov's occasional appearance enlivens that boredom. He is different from the others and is like a "bright moon rising in the darkness" . Helen sighs that she wishes she could fly away like a bird from all of this, but she is too much of a coward to leave. Astrov enters with his maps, happily asking if she wants to see them. Astrov spreads them out; as he does so, he asks where she is from and where she was educated. He wonders if she could actually be interested in this; Helen responds that she might not know much about country life, but she has read a lot. Astrov begins to speak about the maps, a pleasure he allows himself only once a month. The first map, he begins, is the district fifty years ago. Half the area was wooded. The land featured small isolated hamlets and a great deal of birds and cattle and horses. Twenty-five years ago, though, some of the animals were gone, and only a third of the area was wooded. Old hamlets and farmsteads vanished, and the "general picture is one of a gradual and unmistakable decline" . Things have certainly worsened over the last years. Astrov pauses and says that if people had built roads and railways instead of simply destroying the forests, or had erected factories and schools, then the peasants would be better off and happier. However, this did not happen: the district is still mosquito-laden, poor, and prone to fires and disease. People find the struggle for existence difficult, he says: they are backward, ignorant, and have no idea what they're doing. A man's only instinct is to be warm and fed, and he does not think about the future. Astrov looks at Helen and coldly comments that she is bored. She replies that she understands little, but he denies this: she is just not interested. Helen asks if she can change the subject, so they sit down and asks bluntly about Sonya--does she attract him as a woman? He answers no. Helen sighs and says that Sonya is so unhappy, and that he ought to stop coming here. Astrov, annoyed, stands up. Helen feels that this is a disagreeable conversation and is wearied by it. She tells them that they ought to pretend like nothing was said. Astrov stares at her and asks why she brought it up. He shrugs but then regards her more carefully and comments that she is a little box of tricks. Helen is confused, and he laughs that she has it all figured out. He presses on and says she knows perfectly well why he comes here, that she's a little vampire, and that he is not new to this. Helen is still confused, and Astrov smiles that she is a beautiful little weasel. He bows his head and mockingly says that he surrenders. Helen is surprised, calls him crazy, and moves to leave, but he bars her way and takes her hand. He moves closer and passionately begs her to let him kiss her. He kisses her hand as she tries to pull away. He leans in, imploring her to tell him when they can meet, and he kisses her as Vanya walks in. Helen does not see Vanya, but she tells Astrov to leave her alone. He insists that she meet him at the forest reservation, but she still tries to extricate herself, especially once she notices Vanya. Vanya is carrying roses and puts them down. Astrov bitterly talks about the weather as he rolls up the maps. Helen runs up to Vanya and says he must do all he can to get her husband and her away from this house. Vanya is distracted but says "of course." Serebryakov, Sonya, Telegin, and Marina enter. Serebryakov complains about the house. As her father prepares to speak, Sonya goes up to Helen and asks what Astrov said. Helen only says she will tell her later, and Sonya trembles and asks if he said he wasn't going to come anymore. Helen nods. Serebryakov tells everyone to sit down and Vanya asks in an annoyed, agitated tone if he is needed. Serebryakov tells him that he obviously is, and he wonders why he is acting like this. He begins his speech a moment later, explaining that he needs everyone's advice. He is old now and has to think about putting his affairs in order. It is impossible for him to live in the country, and the estate's income will not support them in the city. It is his proposal that they sell the estate, which would allow for a smaller cottage near St. Petersburg. Vanya is stunned and asks what Serebryakov thinks he, Mrs. Voynitksy, and Sonya will do. Serebryakov replies that they will figure that out in time. Vanya shakes his head, saying that he thought all this time that this was Sonya's estate. Serebryakov replies that it is, and that he would do this in her best interest. This does not comfort Vanya, even though Mrs. Voynitsky suggests listening to the professor. Serebryakov doesn't understand why people are upset, and Vanya interrupts clueless Telegin's comments to explain angrily how he gave up part of his inheritance so that his sister could buy this land. Furthermore, it is free from debt because he, Vanya, has worked so hard on it for twenty-five years. All this time, Serebryakov has neither thanked him nor given him an extra ruble. Telegin and Mrs. Voynitsky try to calm Vanya down but he continues, saying how he used to revere the professor's writing and books but how he now despises them. He says they used to think of the professor as superior, but now he sees that he knows nothing of the art he writes about. Serebryakov is still confused and Helen tries to calm Vanya down. Serebryakov tells Vanya that, if he wants the estate, it is his. Telegin runs out in distress. Helen shouts that she can't stand this. Vanya moans that his life is ruined, and that he could have been a Schopenhauer or Dostoevsky but for Serebryakov; he feels like he is going mad. Sonya leans before Marina in anguish. Vanya calls out to his mother, then announces he knows what to do, and runs out. Serebryakov proclaims he does not know what is wrong with Vanya, and Helen insists they must leave today. Sonya turns to her father and begs him to understand that she and her uncle are so unhappy and worked so hard for him their whole lives. Helen tells her husband that she must sort this out. Grudgingly, Serebryakov leaves to talk to Vanya with Helen following. Marina comforts Sonya. Suddenly, a shot is heard; Helen's scream follows. Serebryakov staggers back in, shouting about Vanya's madness. Helen and Vanya struggle over a revolver. Vanya bests her and fires again at Serebryakov but misses. He tries again and misses. He curses and sinks into a chair. Helen leans against a wall, her chest heaving. She says she must leave. Vanya wonders desperately what he is doing, and Sonya cries for Nanny.

In a play where not much happens, this act features several encounters that would be immensely significant, were it not for Chekhov's droll tone and the lack of any consequence or change following said encounters. There is Helen's attempt to find out Astrov's feelings for Sonya, Astrov's attempt to seduce Helen, Serebryakov's announcement that he wants to sell the estate, and Vanya's breakdown and subsequent attempted murder of Serebryakov. All of the characters, critic Kael D. Kramer writes, "are determined to make a melodrama out of something that is ordinary human experience." They "try to maximize the minimum, creating the effect of anticlimax. The way they do this is by regularly resorting to self-dramatization or indulging in self-pity." John Weston agrees, lauding Chekhov's vision of evil " precisely in the midst of idle talk, everyday pettiness, and people with nothing to distinguish them: neither vice nor virtue." There are conflicts and problems in their lives, yes, but the main one is merely "one of good but ineffectual people with the harsh crudeness of real life, a clash of the dream and reality of an ordinary life." Thus, the Sonya-Helen-Astrov dynamic seems like it would be more momentous than it actually is. Sonya is in love with Astrov, but even when Helen reveals to her that he does not love her back, she quells her feelings of sadness and focuses on caring for her uncle. Helen admits that she finds Astrov interesting and attractive, but she will not actually cheat on her husband. And Astrov is sexually attracted to Helen, but he does not seem to have any real feelings for her; he is merely drunk and feeling a sense of lust rooted in the desire to destroy, to sublimate his fears and sorrows, and to rile and rouse the stultifying country life he is stuck in. In this seduction scene, he is the destroyer, not the creator, even though he decried such behavior earlier in the play. This act, perhaps like the play itself, belongs to Vanya. When Serebryakov announces to the family that he wishes to sell the estate so he and Helen can afford to live elsewhere, Vanya snaps. He reminds his brother-in-law that the estate is only in the family because of his deceased sister, and because of the efforts of Sonya and himself. Serebryakov's feint  that he does not understand why Vanya is so upset only adds fuel to the fire; he acts as if he were the aggrieved one and perceives Vanya only as a petulant child. The putative loss of the estate vexes Vanya because Serebryakov's behavior encapsulates everything that he hates about the man. Vanya explodes that he worked the estate for twenty-five years and Serebryakov " thanked me once" . He and the others talked only of Serebryakov and his works and "were proud of you and worshipped the very sound of your name" . Now, though, Vanya seethes that Serebryakov's writings are worthless and that he's made a fool of them. Before he rushes out to grab the revolver, he says, "You've ruined my life! I've not lived, I tell you. Thanks to you the best years of my life have been thrown down the drain. You are my worst enemy!" and "My life's ruined. I'm gifted, intelligent, courageous. If I'd had a normal life I might have been a Schopenhauer or a Dostoevsky" . What to make of Vanya's outburst? There is certainly truth to it. Serebryakov is not a great man, and Vanya did work hard for seemingly nothing. However, Vanya is excessively self-pitying. As Kramer explains, Vanya often " himself in the role of victim" and "casts Serebryakov as the villain of his drama." Serebryakov doesn't deserve this much ire; he is simply too inane. Earlier, Sonya told her uncle that his complaining is boring, although she comforts him in his despair at the end of the play. Sadly, the "heart of Vanya's senseless mistake... he is asking for validation from one whose credentials belie all credibility."

Set in the daytime, Act III opens in the drawing room with Voynitsky and Sonya seated as Yelena paces in thought. The professor has called a meeting at one o'clock. After grumbling about Serebryakov, Voynitsky attacks Yelena, describing her as ready to "drop from sheer laziness". Yelena replies that she is dying of boredom and is without an idea of what to do. Sonya produces a number of possibilities: help with the estate, teaching, nursing, and so on. Yelena cannot imagine being interested; only people in ideological novels undertake such work. For Sonya, Yelena's idleness is "infectious"--her effect on Vanya, herself, and the doctor, all of whom having deserted their work to follow her, make this clear. Yelena is certainly a witch. Voynitsky adds that she must have the blood of a mermaid and should flee the estate by diving into a whirlpool with some water sprite. Yelena is enraged: Voynitsky offers to pick her a bouquet of roses in apology and exits. Sadly Sonya then puts her head on Yelena's breast and once again begins pining for the doctor. Having loved him for six years, she has lost all pride and confessed her love to everyone except Astrov. Remarking that he is a strange person, Yelena resolves to find out what he thinks of Sonya, using his cartograms as a pretext. Sonya pauses for a moment, wondering if uncertainty is better and exits to fetch him. Yelena then delivers a soliloquy, ruminating on how Sonya cannot help falling for such a "fascinating" man amidst such boredom and admits her own fascination for the doctor. Recalling Vanya's quip about the mermaid, she wonders if she should flee with him--her conscience, however, prevents it. Indeed, she already feels guilty, ready to prostrate herself before Sonya and weep. Astrov then enters with a cartogram and proceeds to explain the progressive degeneration of the region. Forests, settlements, and wildlife have disappeared in the "downhill struggle for existence"; instead of progress, the same swamps, diseases, and disasters remain. It is clear to Astrov that Yelena is uninterested. He breaks off, and she cross-examines him with regards to Sonya. Astrov does not love her. He is, however, convinced that the subtext of Yelena's cross-examination is her own desire and that she is finally responding to his longtime advances. Much to Yelena's dismay, he embraces her passionately and insists upon arranging a rendezvous. Yelena resists, and suddenly Voynitsky enters unseen. For a moment, Yelena will then relent, laying her head on Astrov's chest. Just as the doctor proposes a rendezvous, however, she sees Voynitsky and disengages herself from his arms. Astrov chats about the weather, noting that the days are getting shorter, and he exits. Nervously, Yelena insists that Voynitsky prevail upon her husband for an immediate departure from the estate; a shaken Voynitsky replies that he has seen everything.

As noted earlier, among all the erotic criss-crossings in the play, Astrov and Yelena's intrigue structurally resembles an affair from conventional melodrama, in which the impassioned lover comes to rescue the beautiful heroine from her unhappy marriage. Indeed, in The Wood Demon,Uncle Vanya's precursor, their intrigue takes on this form. Certainly here we have elements that might suggest that Yelena's escape from Serebryakov and something like a "happy ending" could be imminent. Notably, the prospect of this escape is cast in "fairy tale" terms: like a mermaid, Yelena may disappear into a whirlpool with her water sprite. Moreover, Yelena's soliloquy reveals the extent of her fascination with the doctor. In musing over Astrov, she already feels guilty, finding herself ready to implore Sonya for forgiveness. One wonders then if at some level she has already accepted the doctor as a paramour. At the same time, Astrov's seduction is strangely "off"--awkward, bungled, and more farcical than romantic. One cannot but laugh, for example, at such pet names as "dear bird of prey" and "beautiful, fluffy weasel". Astrov's boorishness aside, we will also examine the strangeness of this seduction by looking at two of Chekhov's primary dramaturgical devices: indirect action and subtext. Allowing an indefinite period of time to pass between Acts II and III , Chekhov opens a gap between what happened since we left off and what transpires at the moment on stage. Thus one experiences an almost ridiculous abruptness in Astrov's attempt. This is even more the case as Astrov seems to take great interpretative liberties in identifying Yelena's desire as the subtext of their conversation: his accusation that she wants him seems wishful at best. At the same time, his proposition is not quite absurd. Framed in realist fashion, the events here would seem to take what was admitted in the act previous to its logical conclusion--namely, the fascination Yelena and Astrov share for each other that should culminate in an erotic encounter. Moreover, we are told that the doctor has been visiting the estate daily for some time now. Indirect action and Astrov's unconvincing sense of subtext make this encounter jarring even as it is entirely reasonable in the narrative. Thus Chekhov undermines the seduction one might find in conventional melodrama. No dashing doctor rescues a beautiful wife from her decrepit husband here. The seduction will end quite anti-climatically, the lovers never getting to a first rendezvous. Indeed, the theme of the "might-have-been" prevails: Yelena refuses the doctor once caught, this break prefiguring their almost elegiac farewell in Act IV. As Astrov tells Yelena in the last scene: "It is strange somehow, we never got to know each other, and all at once for some reason--we shall never meet again. So it is with everything in the world." Theirs will be a "love" at last sight, never realized and nostalgically rooted in what might have been. These scenes are also notable in defining Yelena's character. First, they reveal her in all her idleness: she cannot even begin to be interested in the tasks Sonya offers her, tasks that might rescue her from her boredom. Nor can she feign interest in Astrov's cartogram. As Sonya notes, this idleness is "infectious," bewitching, inspiring the household's general malaise. Once again, as indicated throughout the play, Yelena's arrival, along with that of her husband, has thrown the life of the estate out of joint, plunging it into indolence. One might speculate then on how her wasted life perhaps reminds those around her of their own situations, making work impossible. Recall that in Act I, for example, when Voynitsky declares that before Yelena he cannot bear the thought of another wasting her life on the estate as he has.


ACT IV

VOITSKI'S bedroom, which is also his office. A table stands near
the window; on it are ledgers, letter scales, and papers of every
description. Near by stands a smaller table belonging to ASTROFF, with
his paints and drawing materials. On the wall hangs a cage containing a
starling. There is also a map of Africa on the wall, obviously of no use
to anybody. There is a large sofa covered with buckram. A door to the
left leads into an inner room; one to the right leads into the front
hall, and before this door lies a mat for the peasants with their muddy
boots to stand on. It is an autumn evening. The silence is profound.
TELEGIN and MARINA are sitting facing one another, winding wool.

TELEGIN. Be quick, Marina, or we shall be called away to say good-bye
before you have finished. The carriage has already been ordered.

MARINA. [Trying to wind more quickly] I am a little tired.

TELEGIN. They are going to Kharkoff to live.

MARINA. They do well to go.

TELEGIN. They have been frightened. The professor's wife won't stay here
an hour longer. "If we are going at all, let's be off," says she, "we
shall go to Kharkoff and look about us, and then we can send for our
things." They are travelling light. It seems, Marina, that fate has
decreed for them not to live here.

MARINA. And quite rightly. What a storm they have just raised! It was
shameful!

TELEGIN. It was indeed. The scene was worthy of the brush of Aibazofski.

MARINA. I wish I'd never laid eyes on them. [A pause] Now we shall have
things as they were again: tea at eight, dinner at one, and supper in
the evening; everything in order as decent folks, as Christians like to
have it. [Sighs] It is a long time since I have eaten noodles.

TELEGIN. Yes, we haven't had noodles for ages. [A pause] Not for ages.
As I was going through the village this morning, Marina, one of the
shop-keepers called after me, "Hi! you hanger-on!" I felt it bitterly.

MARINA. Don't pay the least attention to them, master; we are all
dependents on God. You and Sonia and all of us. Every one must work, no
one can sit idle. Where is Sonia?

TELEGIN. In the garden with the doctor, looking for Ivan. They fear he
may lay violent hands on himself.

MARINA. Where is his pistol?

TELEGIN. [Whispers] I hid it in the cellar.

VOITSKI and ASTROFF come in.

VOITSKI. Leave me alone! [To MARINA and TELEGIN] Go away! Go away and
leave me to myself, if but for an hour. I won't have you watching me
like this!

TELEGIN. Yes, yes, Vanya. [He goes out on tiptoe.]

MARINA. The gander cackles; ho! ho! ho!

[She gathers up her wool and goes out.]

VOITSKI. Leave me by myself!

ASTROFF. I would, with the greatest pleasure. I ought to have gone long
ago, but I shan't leave you until you have returned what you took from
me.

VOITSKI. I took nothing from you.

ASTROFF. I am not jesting, don't detain me, I really must go.

VOITSKI. I took nothing of yours.

ASTROFF. You didn't? Very well, I shall have to wait a little longer,
and then you will have to forgive me if I resort to force. We shall have
to bind you and search you. I mean what I say.

VOITSKI. Do as you please. [A pause] Oh, to make such a fool of myself!
To shoot twice and miss him both times! I shall never forgive myself.

ASTROFF. When the impulse came to shoot, it would have been as well had
you put a bullet through your own head.

VOITSKI. [Shrugging his shoulders] Strange! I attempted murder, and am
not going to be arrested or brought to trial. That means they think
me mad. [With a bitter laugh] Me! I am mad, and those who hide their
worthlessness, their dullness, their crying heartlessness behind a
professor's mask, are sane! Those who marry old men and then deceive
them under the noses of all, are sane! I saw you kiss her; I saw you in
each other's arms!

ASTROFF. Yes, sir, I did kiss her; so there. [He puts his thumb to his
nose.]

VOITSKI. [His eyes on the door] No, it is the earth that is mad, because
she still bears us on her breast.

ASTROFF. That is nonsense.

VOITSKI. Well? Am I not a madman, and therefore irresponsible? Haven't I
the right to talk nonsense?

ASTROFF. This is a farce! You are not mad; you are simply a ridiculous
fool. I used to think every fool was out of his senses, but now I
see that lack of sense is a man's normal state, and you are perfectly
normal.

VOITSKI. [Covers his face with his hands] Oh! If you knew how ashamed
I am! These piercing pangs of shame are like nothing on earth. [In an
agonised voice] I can't endure them! [He leans against the table] What
can I do? What can I do?

ASTROFF. Nothing.

VOITSKI. You must tell me something! Oh, my God! I am forty-seven years
old. I may live to sixty; I still have thirteen years before me; an
eternity! How shall I be able to endure life for thirteen years?
What shall I do? How can I fill them? Oh, don't you see? [He presses
ASTROFF'S hand convulsively] Don't you see, if only I could live the
rest of my life in some new way! If I could only wake some still, bright
morning and feel that life had begun again; that the past was forgotten
and had vanished like smoke. [He weeps] Oh, to begin life anew! Tell me,
tell me how to begin.

ASTROFF. [Crossly] What nonsense! What sort of a new life can you and I
look forward to? We can have no hope.

VOITSKI. None?

ASTROFF. None. Of that I am convinced.

VOITSKI. Tell me what to do. [He puts his hand to his heart] I feel such
a burning pain here.

ASTROFF. [Shouts angrily] Stop! [Then, more gently] It may be that
posterity, which will despise us for our blind and stupid lives, will
find some road to happiness; but we--you and I--have but one hope, the
hope that we may be visited by visions, perhaps by pleasant ones, as we
lie resting in our graves. [Sighing] Yes, brother, there were only two
respectable, intelligent men in this county, you and I. Ten years or so
of this life of ours, this miserable life, have sucked us under, and we
have become as contemptible and petty as the rest. But don't try to talk
me out of my purpose! Give me what you took from me, will you?

VOITSKI. I took nothing from you.

ASTROFF. You took a little bottle of morphine out of my medicine-case.
[A pause] Listen! If you are positively determined to make an end
to yourself, go into the woods and shoot yourself there. Give up the
morphine, or there will be a lot of talk and guesswork; people will
think I gave it to you. I don't fancy having to perform a post-mortem on
you. Do you think I should find it interesting?

SONIA comes in.

VOITSKI. Leave me alone.

ASTROFF. [To SONIA] Sonia, your uncle has stolen a bottle of morphine
out of my medicine-case and won't give it up. Tell him that his
behaviour is--well, unwise. I haven't time, I must be going.

SONIA. Uncle Vanya, did you take the morphine?

ASTROFF. Yes, he took it. [A pause] I am absolutely sure.

SONIA. Give it up! Why do you want to frighten us? [Tenderly] Give it
up, Uncle Vanya! My misfortune is perhaps even greater than yours, but I
am not plunged in despair. I endure my sorrow, and shall endure it until
my life comes to a natural end. You must endure yours, too. [A pause]
Give it up! Dear, darling Uncle Vanya. Give it up! [She weeps] You are
so good, I am sure you will have pity on us and give it up. You must
endure your sorrow, Uncle Vanya; you must endure it.

VOITSKI takes a bottle from the drawer of the table and hands it to
ASTROFF.

VOITSKI. There it is! [To SONIA] And now, we must get to work at once;
we must do something, or else I shall not be able to endure it.

SONIA. Yes, yes, to work! As soon as we have seen them off we shall
go to work. [She nervously straightens out the papers on the table]
Everything is in a muddle!

ASTROFF. [Putting the bottle in his case, which he straps together] Now
I can be off.

HELENA comes in.

HELENA. Are you here, Ivan? We are starting in a moment. Go to
Alexander, he wants to speak to you.

SONIA. Go, Uncle Vanya. [She takes VOITSKI 'S arm] Come, you and papa
must make peace; that is absolutely necessary.

SONIA and VOITSKI go out.

HELENA. I am going away. [She gives ASTROFF her hand] Good-bye.

ASTROFF. So soon?

HELENA. The carriage is waiting.

ASTROFF. Good-bye.

HELENA. You promised me you would go away yourself to-day.

ASTROFF. I have not forgotten. I am going at once. [A pause] Were you
frightened? Was it so terrible?

HELENA. Yes.

ASTROFF. Couldn't you stay? Couldn't you? To-morrow--in the forest--

HELENA. No. It is all settled, and that is why I can look you so bravely
in the face. Our departure is fixed. One thing I must ask of you: don't
think too badly of me; I should like you to respect me.

ASTROFF. Ah! [With an impatient gesture] Stay, I implore you! Confess
that there is nothing for you to do in this world. You have no object
in life; there is nothing to occupy your attention, and sooner or later
your feelings must master you. It is inevitable. It would be better if
it happened not in Kharkoff or in Kursk, but here, in nature's lap.
It would then at least be poetical, even beautiful. Here you have the
forests, the houses half in ruins that Turgenieff writes of.

HELENA. How comical you are! I am angry with you and yet I shall always
remember you with pleasure. You are interesting and original. You and
I will never meet again, and so I shall tell you--why should I conceal
it?--that I am just a little in love with you. Come, one more last
pressure of our hands, and then let us part good friends. Let us not
bear each other any ill will.

ASTROFF. [Pressing her hand] Yes, go. [Thoughtfully] You seem to be
sincere and good, and yet there is something strangely disquieting about
all your personality. No sooner did you arrive here with your husband
than every one whom you found busy and actively creating something was
forced to drop his work and give himself up for the whole summer to
your husband's gout and yourself. You and he have infected us with your
idleness. I have been swept off my feet; I have not put my hand to
a thing for weeks, during which sickness has been running its course
unchecked among the people, and the peasants have been pasturing their
cattle in my woods and young plantations. Go where you will, you and
your husband will always carry destruction in your train. I am joking of
course, and yet I am strangely sure that had you stayed here we should
have been overtaken by the most immense desolation. I would have gone
to my ruin, and you--you would not have prospered. So go! E finita la
comedia!

HELENA. [Snatching a pencil off ASTROFF'S table, and hiding it with a
quick movement] I shall take this pencil for memory!

ASTROFF. How strange it is. We meet, and then suddenly it seems that
we must part forever. That is the way in this world. As long as we are
alone, before Uncle Vanya comes in with a bouquet--allow me--to kiss you
good-bye--may I? [He kisses her on the cheek] So! Splendid!

HELENA. I wish you every happiness. [She glances about her] For once
in my life, I shall! and scorn the consequences! [She kisses him
impetuously, and they quickly part] I must go.

ASTROFF. Yes, go. If the carriage is there, then start at once. [They
stand listening.]

ASTROFF. E finita!

VOITSKI, SEREBRAKOFF, MME. VOITSKAYA with her book, TELEGIN, and SONIA
come in.

SEREBRAKOFF. [To VOITSKI] Shame on him who bears malice for the past. I
have gone through so much in the last few hours that I feel capable of
writing a whole treatise on the conduct of life for the instruction
of posterity. I gladly accept your apology, and myself ask your
forgiveness. [He kisses VOITSKI three times.]

HELENA embraces SONIA.

SEREBRAKOFF. [Kissing MME. VOITSKAYA'S hand] Mother!

MME. VOITSKAYA. [Kissing him] Have your picture taken, Alexander, and
send me one. You know how dear you are to me.

TELEGIN. Good-bye, your Excellency. Don't forget us.

SEREBRAKOFF. [Kissing his daughter] Good-bye, good-bye all. [Shaking
hands with ASTROFF] Many thanks for your pleasant company. I have a deep
regard for your opinions and your enthusiasm, but let me, as an old man,
give one word of advice at parting: do something, my friend! Work! Do
something! [They all bow] Good luck to you all. [He goes out followed by
MME. VOITSKAYA and SONIA.]

VOITSKI [Kissing HELENA'S hand fervently] Good-bye--forgive me. I shall
never see you again!

HELENA. [Touched] Good-bye, dear boy.

She lightly kisses his head as he bends over her hand, and goes out.

ASTROFF. Tell them to bring my carriage around too, Waffles.

TELEGIN. All right, old man.

ASTROFF and VOITSKI are left behind alone. ASTROFF collects his paints
and drawing materials on the table and packs them away in a box.

ASTROFF. Why don't you go to see them off?

VOITSKI. Let them go! I--I can't go out there. I feel too sad. I must go
to work on something at once. To work! To work!

He rummages through his papers on the table. A pause. The tinkling of
bells is heard as the horses trot away.

ASTROFF. They have gone! The professor, I suppose, is glad to go. He
couldn't be tempted back now by a fortune.

MARINA comes in.

MARINA. They have gone. [She sits down in an arm-chair and knits her
stocking.]

SONIA comes in wiping her eyes.

SONIA. They have gone. God be with them. [To her uncle] And now, Uncle
Vanya, let us do something!

VOITSKI. To work! To work!

SONIA. It is long, long, since you and I have sat together at this
table. [She lights a lamp on the table] No ink! [She takes the inkstand
to the cupboard and fills it from an ink-bottle] How sad it is to see
them go!

MME. VOITSKAYA comes slowly in.

MME. VOITSKAYA. They have gone.

She sits down and at once becomes absorbed in her book. SONIA sits down
at the table and looks through an account book.

SONIA. First, Uncle Vanya, let us write up the accounts. They are in a
dreadful state. Come, begin. You take one and I will take the other.

VOITSKI. In account with [They sit silently writing.]

MARINA. [Yawning] The sand-man has come.

ASTROFF. How still it is. Their pens scratch, the cricket sings; it is
so warm and comfortable. I hate to go. [The tinkling of bells is heard.]

ASTROFF. My carriage has come. There now remains but to say good-bye to
you, my friends, and to my table here, and then--away! [He puts the map
into the portfolio.]

MARINA. Don't hurry away; sit a little longer with us.

ASTROFF. Impossible.

VOITSKI. [Writing] And carry forward from the old debt two
seventy-five--

WORKMAN comes in.

WORKMAN. Your carriage is waiting, sir.

ASTROFF. All right. [He hands the WORKMAN his medicine-case, portfolio,
and box] Look out, don't crush the portfolio!

WORKMAN. Very well, sir.

SONIA. When shall we see you again?

ASTROFF. Hardly before next summer. Probably not this winter, though, of
course, if anything should happen you will let me know. [He shakes
hands with them] Thank you for your kindness, for your hospitality, for
everything! [He goes up to MARINA and kisses her head] Good-bye, old
nurse!

MARINA. Are you going without your tea?

ASTROFF. I don't want any, nurse.

MARINA. Won't you have a drop of vodka?

ASTROFF. [Hesitatingly] Yes, I might.

MARINA goes out.

ASTROFF. [After a pause] My off-wheeler has gone lame for some reason. I
noticed it yesterday when Peter was taking him to water.

VOITSKI. You should have him re-shod.

ASTROFF. I shall have to go around by the blacksmith's on my way home.
It can't be avoided. [He stands looking up at the map of Africa hanging
on the wall] I suppose it is roasting hot in Africa now.

VOITSKI. Yes, I suppose it is.

MARINA comes back carrying a tray on which are a glass of vodka and a
piece of bread.

MARINA. Help yourself.

ASTROFF drinks

MARINA. To your good health! [She bows deeply] Eat your bread with it.

ASTROFF. No, I like it so. And now, good-bye. [To MARINA] You needn't
come out to see me off, nurse.

He goes out. SONIA follows him with a candle to light him to the
carriage. MARINA sits down in her armchair.

VOITSKI. [Writing] On the 2d of February, twenty pounds of butter; on
the 16th, twenty pounds of butter again. Buckwheat flour--[A pause.
Bells are heard tinkling.]

MARINA. He has gone. [A pause.]

SONIA comes in and sets the candle stick on the table.

SONIA. He has gone.

VOITSKI. [Adding and writing] Total, fifteen--twenty-five--

SONIA sits down and begins to write.

[Yawning] Oh, ho! The Lord have mercy.

TELEGIN comes in on tiptoe, sits down near the door, and begins to tune
his guitar.

VOITSKI. [To SONIA, stroking her hair] Oh, my child, I am miserable; if
you only knew how miserable I am!

SONIA. What can we do? We must live our lives. [A pause] Yes, we shall
live, Uncle Vanya. We shall live through the long procession of days
before us, and through the long evenings; we shall patiently bear the
trials that fate imposes on us; we shall work for others without rest,
both now and when we are old; and when our last hour comes we shall
meet it humbly, and there, beyond the grave, we shall say that we have
suffered and wept, that our life was bitter, and God will have pity on
us. Ah, then dear, dear Uncle, we shall see that bright and beautiful
life; we shall rejoice and look back upon our sorrow here; a tender
smile--and--we shall rest. I have faith, Uncle, fervent, passionate
faith. [SONIA kneels down before her uncle and lays her head on his
hands. She speaks in a weary voice] We shall rest. [TELEGIN plays softly
on the guitar] We shall rest. We shall hear the angels. We shall see
heaven shining like a jewel. We shall see all evil and all our pain sink
away in the great compassion that shall enfold the world. Our life will
be as peaceful and tender and sweet as a caress. I have faith; I have
faith. [She wipes away her tears] My poor, poor Uncle Vanya, you are
crying! [Weeping] You have never known what happiness was, but wait,
Uncle Vanya, wait! We shall rest. [She embraces him] We shall rest. [The
WATCHMAN'S rattle is heard in the garden; TELEGIN plays softly; MME.
VOITSKAYA writes something on the margin of her pamphlet; MARINA knits
her stocking] We shall rest.

The curtain slowly falls.

It is evening. The scene is Vanya's room, which is also the estate office. There is a map of Africa, a small table for Astrov, and a cage with a starling. Telegin and Marina are sitting in the office, discussing how Serebryakov and Helen are going to live in Kharkov. They both think this is a good thing, especially after Vanya's disgraceful behavior. Marina is looking forward to things going back to normal. Telegin sighs that he is looking forward to this. Marina smiles at Telegin when the old man confesses he hid the pistol in the cellar. Vanya and Astrov enter. Vanya is irritable, and orders Marina and Telegin out. They comply. Vanya tells Astrov to leave; Astrov says that he will, and with pleasure, but only when Vanya gives him back what is his. Vanya is confused, but Astrov stubbornly stands his ground. Vanya rues the fact that he missed the professor twice, and Astrov asks why he didn't just shoot himself if he had to shoot someone. Vanya shrugs. He wonders if they think he is mad, for he just tried to kill someone and he isn't arrested or in jail. He sneers that people can dress themselves up as professors or marry old men, yet no one thinks they are mad. He looks at Astrov and tells him that he saw him kiss Helen. Astrov admits this and thumbs his nose at Vanya. He calls Vanya an old clown and says he simply has no sense. Vanya hangs his head and says that the feeling of shame he has is worse than pain. He wonders what he is to do. Astrov replies that he can do nothing. Vanya laments his age and how he is to live the rest of the years of his life. He wishes that he could wake up one day with a fresh start. Astrov is annoyed with him and states that both of their lives are hopeless. Vanya points to his own chest and asks for something. Astrov shouts at him to shut up, but then more gently says that their only hope is to have pleasant visions once they're in their graves. He and Vanya are the only civilized people in their district, but the parochial existence ruined them and "poisoned our blood and we've become as second-rate as the rest of them" . After a moment, Astrov repeats his claim that Vanya took something from him: a bottle of morphia out of his medical case. If Vanya wants to do himself in, he might as well go into the woods and shoot himself, but Astrov can't have people thinking he gave Vanya the bottle. Sonya enters, and Astrov tells her she needs to tell her uncle to give him back the morphia. She looks at Vanya and asks if he took it, then moves toward him and tells him affectionately that he has to give it back. He cannot give into despair; he should be patient. She weeps and holds his hands; Vanya gives in and returns the bottle, saying he must get back to work. Helen enters and tells Vanya that Serebryakov wants a word with him. Vanya and Sonya depart. Helen gives Astrov her hand and says goodbye. Astrov asks her once more about the forest reservation tomorrow; she tells him flatly that it is ended and they are leaving. Astrov makes an impatient gesture and says she has nothing else to do, no object in life, and no occupations; thus, she ought to stay in this rather romantic place. Helen replies that he is absurd, but that she will remember him fondly because he is interesting and different from the others. They shake hands and Astrov says that, yes, she had better leave. She and her husband riled up the place and infected them all with their idleness. Astrov jokes that they bring havoc wherever they go. Helen picks up a pencil and says she will take it to remember him by. He is amused that they will never see each other again. Helen kisses him on the cheek, then impulsively kisses him on the lips and wishes him happiness. Everyone else enters. Serebryakov wishes Vanya the best, and they formally kiss three times in parting. Everyone in the group exchanges farewells, and Serebryakov urges them to get down to work. Helen kisses Vanya on the head and leaves. Serebryakov follows, asking Telegin to get their carriage. Vanya starts rifling through his papers, commenting that he is depressed and must get to work immediately. Outside bells sound, and Astrov comments that they are gone. Marina enters and sits down to knit a sock. Sonya enters and tells her uncle they should get to work. She lights the lamp and sighs that she is sad that they've gone. She and Vanya start to work. Astrov comments that it is quiet and peaceful here, and Marina suggests that he should stay. He says he cannot, and at that moment a laborer comes in and says his carriage is ready. Sonya stands to say goodbye and asks when he will return. He replies that he won't return any earlier than next summer. Marina offers him some vodka; he takes it and then leaves. Outside, harness bells are heard and Marina comments that Astrov is gone. Telegin strums quietly on his guitar while Sonya and Vanya write. Vanya tells his niece that he is so depressed. She looks at him with compassion and says that life will go on. It will be long, tiring, and they will never have peace; beyond the grave, though, they will know that although they wept, suffered, and their lot was bitter, God will pity them and they will have another life of beauty, light, and joy. Sonya kneels before her uncle and tells him softly multiple times that they will have peace, they will see the angels, they will experience a flood of mercy, and they will have a calm, gentle, and sweet life. Vanya hasn't had any happiness yet, but he will in the future. Sonya reaches up to wipe his tears away and tells him again that they will find peace.

The fourth and final act of Uncle Vanya is, to say the least, anticlimactic ). Helen stays faithful to Serebryakov, and both of them depart the estate. Serebryakov is just as shortsighted, pompous, and self-absorbed as he was prior to his departure, and Helen is just as bored and unhappy. Helen and Astrov kiss, but it is perfunctory and passionless. The unmarried Sonya returns to work, as do Marina and Telegin. Astrov leaves for the season, just as simultaneously hopeful and cynical as he was earlier. As for Vanya, he has further revealed himself to be ridiculous. His complaints, his demonization of Serebryakov, his lack of personal insight, his attempt to seduce Helen, and the attempted murder "make him comically pathetic rather than tragically heroic," as critic Geoffrey Borny writes. His exclamation that he could have been the inimitable Schopenhauer or Dostoevsky ultimately comes across as petulant and inane rather than as a legitimate woe. Overall, no one seems to have learned any lessons or decided to alter their current state of existence. Critic Jane Anderson writes, " must live without the illusions of their hopes. Each must once again take up the stifling trifles of daily life to distract themselves from their lives of quiet desperation." Chekhov himself once wrote, "In spite of all my attempts at being serious, the result is noting; with me the serious always alternates with the trivial." Critic John Weston lauds the confluence of serious and trivial, and he doesn't lay the blame entirely at the characters' feet. He writes, "it is not so much the personal defects of character that cause unhappiness as it is the pressures and tensions of everyday country life created by economic and social conditions of the time. It is the boring, stupefying, and vulgar life in the country which drags down intelligent people like Astrov and Uncle Vanya and Sonya and Serebryakov to the level of pettiness and selfishness." Finally, Sonya's speech to Vanya merits analysis. She imitates the sentiments Marina conveyed to Astrov at the beginning of the play--that God will remember them. For Sonya, life is indeed hard work with little recognition, but it is the hope of an afterlife that sustains her. She tells her uncle, "In the world beyond the grave we shall say we have wept and suffered, that our lot was harsh and bitter, and God will have pity on us. And you and I, Uncle, shall behold a life which is bright and beautiful and splendid" . Sonya's religious faith allows her to genuinely comfort her uncle, as well as to prop herself up after learning that Astrov does not love her. Sadly, though, there is no evidence that Vanya shares his niece's faith. He merely sobs while she tries to comfort him. Borny notes, "Sonya's long speech of faith at the end of the play is undercut by the fact that she is preaching to the unconverted. Vanya appears to have little faith in the existence of Sonya's God, and even though he has now resumed working, he no longer has faith in the value of work." Vanya will most likely get back to a place where he finds value in work, but it may take a long time and will be liable to disruption again.

Act IV is set in Voynitsky's bedroom, which doubles as the estate office. Chekhov describes it at length in his stage notes: a large table stands by the window, piled with account books and papers; Astrov's drawing table sits to the side; a map of Africa hangs on the wall. Telegin and Marina sit opposite each other, winding stocking wool. Again an unspecified period of time has passed; it is still autumn. Through the conversation of the nurse and landowner, we learn that Yelena and the professor are departing that evening for Kharkov, not even bothering to pack their things. Marina is relieved that the household will resume its routine. She then asks after Sonya--apparently she is searching for Voynitsky in the garden with Dr. Astrov, fearful that her father might injure himself. Voynitsky and Astrov then enter, and the former orders the Marina and Telegin out. Astrov asks Voynitsky to return what he took from him, threatening to use force if necessary. Voynitsky responds that Astrov can do what he likes as his friend is now nothing but a fool, a madman. Ironically, he notes that though he might be mad, no one would ever consider a sham professor or treacherous wife mad. He also accuses Astrov of infidelity with Yelena . Astrov thumbs his nose. The conversation continues: for Astrov, Voynitsky is not mad but "simply eccentric" and, indeed, "being eccentric is the normal condition of mankind." Suddenly Voynitsky buries his face in shame, repeating the refrain from the act previous: "What can I do?" He dreads the many empty years to come, dreaming of a new life and begging Astrov to help him start one. Annoyed, Astrov tells him he can do nothing, that his situation is hopeless, and that, though they were once the only decent, educated men in the district, provincial life has poisoned them both. Astrov then renews his request for what Voynitsky has stolen, which is apparently a bottle of morphine. Voynitsky can shoot himself if he feels suicidal, but morphine would unnecessarily implicate the doctor. Sonya then enters, and the doctor appeals to her for help. After his daughter pleads with him, Voynitsky surrenders the bottle and crumbles. Astrov prepares to leave.

These final scenes are significant as they show Uncle Vanya asking for redemption; all too clearly, this redemption brusquely is denied to him. Intimately related to this final blow are the themes and motifs we have discussed thus far: estrangement, the memory of a wasted life, and so on. Voynitsky concludes that he is a madman and a fool. Astrov retorts that Voynitsky is not mad but "simply eccentric"--as Astrov himself has been described throughout the play. Though Astrov once considered eccentricity "sick and abnormal", he has come to realize it is the "normal condition of mankind." As we have noted throughout, "eccentricity" refers in this play to an estrangement from both others and oneself. Thus, though the characters here might not be mad, we can certainly identify them they as doubly alienated in the manner described above. This estrangement is now a condition of existence. Voynitsky also brings up the subject of time and memory, begging the doctor for a new life. To quote: "If you could wake up one clear, quiet morning and feel that you're beginning your life over again, that the entire past is forgotten, scattered to the winds like smoke." In begging for a new life, Voynitsky would escape his monotonous existence and make the memory of his wasted life disappear. Astrov, however, has no words of solace. Indeed, apparently no longer the visionary we saw in Act I, he remarks that the only happy visions one can hope for are those that may come in the grave. As we will see, Astrov's sentence, condemning Vanya to his misery, prefigures Sonya's similarly fatalistic speech at the end of the play. These final moments will above all reveal how a rebirth for Vanya is impossible-only drudgery awaits him. Indeed, the restoration of daily routine is already prefigured here, not only by the interlude between Marina and Telegin that precedes their conversation, but by Chekhov's detailed description of his office as well. was a famous painter of seascapes.]


ACT I

A country house on a terrace. In front of it a garden. In an avenue of
trees, under an old poplar, stands a table set for tea, with a samovar,
etc. Some benches and chairs stand near the table. On one of them is
lying a guitar. A hammock is swung near the table. It is three o'clock
in the afternoon of a cloudy day.

MARINA, a quiet, grey-haired, little old woman, is sitting at the table
knitting a stocking.

ASTROFF is walking up and down near her.

MARINA. [Pouring some tea into a glass] Take a little tea, my son.

ASTROFF. [Takes the glass from her unwillingly] Somehow, I don't seem to
want any.

MARINA. Then will you have a little vodka instead?

ASTROFF. No, I don't drink vodka every day, and besides, it is too hot
now. [A pause] Tell me, nurse, how long have we known each other?

MARINA. [Thoughtfully] Let me see, how long is it? Lord--help me to
remember. You first came here, into our parts--let me think--when was
it? Sonia's mother was still alive--it was two winters before she died;
that was eleven years ago--[thoughtfully] perhaps more.

ASTROFF. Have I changed much since then?

MARINA. Oh, yes. You were handsome and young then, and now you are an
old man and not handsome any more. You drink, too.

ASTROFF. Yes, ten years have made me another man. And why? Because I am
overworked. Nurse, I am on my feet from dawn till dusk. I know no rest;
at night I tremble under my blankets for fear of being dragged out to
visit some one who is sick; I have toiled without repose or a day's
freedom since I have known you; could I help growing old? And then,
existence is tedious, anyway; it is a senseless, dirty business, this
life, and goes heavily. Every one about here is silly, and after
living with them for two or three years one grows silly oneself. It is
inevitable. [Twisting his moustache] See what a long moustache I have
grown. A foolish, long moustache. Yes, I am as silly as the rest, nurse,
but not as stupid; no, I have not grown stupid. Thank God, my brain is
not addled yet, though my feelings have grown numb. I ask nothing, I
need nothing, I love no one, unless it is yourself alone. [He kisses her
head] I had a nurse just like you when I was a child.

MARINA. Don't you want a bite of something to eat?

ASTROFF. No. During the third week of Lent I went to the epidemic at
Malitskoi. It was eruptive typhoid. The peasants were all lying side by
side in their huts, and the calves and pigs were running about the floor
among the sick. Such dirt there was, and smoke! Unspeakable! I slaved
among those people all day, not a crumb passed my lips, but when I got
home there was still no rest for me; a switchman was carried in from the
railroad; I laid him on the operating table and he went and died in
my arms under chloroform, and then my feelings that should have been
deadened awoke again, my conscience tortured me as if I had killed the
man. I sat down and closed my eyes--like this--and thought: will our
descendants two hundred years from now, for whom we are breaking the
road, remember to give us a kind word? No, nurse, they will forget.

MARINA. Man is forgetful, but God remembers.

ASTROFF. Thank you for that. You have spoken the truth.

Enter VOITSKI from the house. He has been asleep after dinner and
looks rather dishevelled. He sits down on the bench and straightens his
collar.

VOITSKI. H'm. Yes. [A pause] Yes.

ASTROFF. Have you been asleep?

VOITSKI. Yes, very much so. [He yawns] Ever since the Professor and his
wife have come, our daily life seems to have jumped the track. I sleep
at the wrong time, drink wine, and eat all sorts of messes for luncheon
and dinner. It isn't wholesome. Sonia and I used to work together and
never had an idle moment, but now Sonia works alone and I only eat and
drink and sleep. Something is wrong.

MARINA. [Shaking her head] Such a confusion in the house! The Professor
gets up at twelve, the samovar is kept boiling all the morning, and
everything has to wait for him. Before they came we used to have dinner
at one o'clock, like everybody else, but now we have it at seven. The
Professor sits up all night writing and reading, and suddenly, at two
o'clock, there goes the bell! Heavens, what is that? The Professor wants
some tea! Wake the servants, light the samovar! Lord, what disorder!

ASTROFF. Will they be here long?

VOITSKI. A hundred years! The Professor has decided to make his home
here.

MARINA. Look at this now! The samovar has been on the table for two
hours, and they are all out walking!

VOITSKI. All right, don't get excited; here they come.

Voices are heard approaching. SEREBRAKOFF, HELENA, SONIA, and TELEGIN
come in from the depths of the garden, returning from their walk.

SEREBRAKOFF. Superb! Superb! What beautiful views!

TELEGIN. They are wonderful, your Excellency.

SONIA. To-morrow we shall go into the woods, shall we, papa?

VOITSKI. Ladies and gentlemen, tea is ready.

SEREBRAKOFF. Won't you please be good enough to send my tea into the
library? I still have some work to finish.

SONIA. I am sure you will love the woods.

HELENA, SEREBRAKOFF, and SONIA go into the house. TELEGIN sits down at
the table beside MARINA.

VOITSKI. There goes our learned scholar on a hot, sultry day like this,
in his overcoat and goloshes and carrying an umbrella!

ASTROFF. He is trying to take good care of his health.

VOITSKI. How lovely she is! How lovely! I have never in my life seen a
more beautiful woman.

TELEGIN. Do you know, Marina, that as I walk in the fields or in
the shady garden, as I look at this table here, my heart swells with
unbounded happiness. The weather is enchanting, the birds are singing,
we are all living in peace and contentment--what more could the soul
desire? [Takes a glass of tea.]

VOITSKI. [Dreaming] Such eyes--a glorious woman!

ASTROFF. Come, Ivan, tell us something.

VOITSKI. [Indolently] What shall I tell you?

ASTROFF. Haven't you any news for us?

VOITSKI. No, it is all stale. I am just the same as usual, or perhaps
worse, because I have become lazy. I don't do anything now but croak
like an old raven. My mother, the old magpie, is still chattering about
the emancipation of woman, with one eye on her grave and the other on
her learned books, in which she is always looking for the dawn of a new
life.

ASTROFF. And the Professor?

VOITSKI. The Professor sits in his library from morning till night, as
usual--

   "Straining the mind, wrinkling the brow,
    We write, write, write,
    Without respite
    Or hope of praise in the future or now."

Poor paper! He ought to write his autobiography; he would make a
really splendid subject for a book! Imagine it, the life of a retired
professor, as stale as a piece of hardtack, tortured by gout, headaches,
and rheumatism, his liver bursting with jealousy and envy, living on the
estate of his first wife, although he hates it, because he can't afford
to live in town. He is everlastingly whining about his hard lot, though,
as a matter of fact, he is extraordinarily lucky. He is the son of
a common deacon and has attained the professor's chair, become the
son-in-law of a senator, is called "your Excellency," and so on. But
I'll tell you something; the man has been writing on art for twenty-five
years, and he doesn't know the very first thing about it. For
twenty-five years he has been chewing on other men's thoughts about
realism, naturalism, and all such foolishness; for twenty-five years he
has been reading and writing things that clever men have long known and
stupid ones are not interested in; for twenty-five years he has been
making his imaginary mountains out of molehills. And just think of the
man's self-conceit and presumption all this time! For twenty-five years
he has been masquerading in false clothes and has now retired absolutely
unknown to any living soul; and yet see him! stalking across the earth
like a demi-god!

ASTROFF. I believe you envy him.

VOITSKI. Yes, I do. Look at the success he has had with women! Don Juan
himself was not more favoured. His first wife, who was my sister, was
a beautiful, gentle being, as pure as the blue heaven there above us,
noble, great-hearted, with more admirers than he has pupils, and she
loved him as only beings of angelic purity can love those who are as
pure and beautiful as themselves. His mother-in-law, my mother, adores
him to this day, and he still inspires a sort of worshipful awe in her.
His second wife is, as you see, a brilliant beauty; she married him in
his old age and has surrendered all the glory of her beauty and freedom
to him. Why? What for?

ASTROFF. Is she faithful to him?

VOITSKI. Yes, unfortunately she is.

ASTROFF. Why unfortunately?

VOITSKI. Because such fidelity is false and unnatural, root and branch.
It sounds well, but there is no logic in it. It is thought immoral for a
woman to deceive an old husband whom she hates, but quite moral for her
to strangle her poor youth in her breast and banish every vital desire
from her heart.

TELEGIN. [In a tearful voice] Vanya, I don't like to hear you talk so.
Listen, Vanya; every one who betrays husband or wife is faithless, and
could also betray his country.

VOITSKI. [Crossly] Turn off the tap, Waffles.

TELEGIN. No, allow me, Vanya. My wife ran away with a lover on the day
after our wedding, because my exterior was unprepossessing. I have never
failed in my duty since then. I love her and am true to her to this day.
I help her all I can and have given my fortune to educate the daughter
of herself and her lover. I have forfeited my happiness, but I have kept
my pride. And she? Her youth has fled, her beauty has faded according to
the laws of nature, and her lover is dead. What has she kept?

HELENA and SONIA come in; after them comes MME. VOITSKAYA carrying a
book. She sits down and begins to read. Some one hands her a glass of
tea which she drinks without looking up.

SONIA. [Hurriedly, to the nurse] There are some peasants waiting out
there. Go and see what they want. I shall pour the tea. [Pours out some
glasses of tea.]

MARINA goes out. HELENA takes a glass and sits drinking in the hammock.

ASTROFF. I have come to see your husband. You wrote me that he had
rheumatism and I know not what else, and that he was very ill, but he
appears to be as lively as a cricket.

HELENA. He had a fit of the blues yesterday evening and complained of
pains in his legs, but he seems all right again to-day.

ASTROFF. And I galloped over here twenty miles at break-neck speed! No
matter, though, it is not the first time. Once here, however, I am going
to stay until to-morrow, and at any rate sleep _quantum satis._

SONIA. Oh, splendid! You so seldom spend the night with us. Have you had
dinner yet?

ASTROFF. No.

SONIA. Good. So you will have it with us. We dine at seven now. [Drinks
her tea] This tea is cold!

TELEGIN. Yes, the samovar has grown cold.

HELENA. Don't mind, Monsieur Ivan, we will drink cold tea, then.

TELEGIN. I beg your pardon, my name is not Ivan, but Ilia, ma'am--Ilia
Telegin, or Waffles, as I am sometimes called on account of my
pock-marked face. I am Sonia's godfather, and his Excellency, your
husband, knows me very well. I now live with you, ma'am, on this estate,
and perhaps you will be so good as to notice that I dine with you every
day.

SONIA. He is our great help, our right-hand man. [Tenderly] Dear
godfather, let me pour you some tea.

MME. VOITSKAYA. Oh! Oh!

SONIA. What is it, grandmother?

MME. VOITSKAYA. I forgot to tell Alexander--I have lost my memory--I
received a letter to-day from Paul Alexevitch in Kharkoff. He has sent
me a new pamphlet.

ASTROFF. Is it interesting?

MME. VOITSKAYA. Yes, but strange. He refutes the very theories which he
defended seven years ago. It is appalling!

VOITSKI. There is nothing appalling about it. Drink your tea, mamma.

MME. VOITSKAYA. It seems you never want to listen to what I have to say.
Pardon me, Jean, but you have changed so in the last year that I
hardly know you. You used to be a man of settled convictions and had an
illuminating personality----

VOITSKI. Oh, yes. I had an illuminating personality, which illuminated
no one. [A pause] I had an illuminating personality! You couldn't say
anything more biting. I am forty-seven years old. Until last year I
endeavoured, as you do now, to blind my eyes by your pedantry to the
truths of life. But now--Oh, if you only knew! If you knew how I lie
awake at night, heartsick and angry, to think how stupidly I have wasted
my time when I might have been winning from life everything which my old
age now forbids.

SONIA. Uncle Vanya, how dreary!

MME. VOITSKAYA. [To her son] You speak as if your former convictions
were somehow to blame, but you yourself, not they, were at fault. You
have forgotten that a conviction, in itself, is nothing but a dead
letter. You should have done something.

VOITSKI. Done something! Not every man is capable of being a writer
_perpetuum mobile_ like your Herr Professor.

MME. VOITSKAYA. What do you mean by that?

SONIA. [Imploringly] Mother! Uncle Vanya! I entreat you!

VOITSKI. I am silent. I apologise and am silent. [A pause.]

HELENA. What a fine day! Not too hot. [A pause.]

VOITSKI. A fine day to hang oneself.

TELEGIN tunes the guitar. MARINA appears near the house, calling the
chickens.

MARINA. Chick, chick, chick!

SONIA. What did the peasants want, nurse?

MARINA. The same old thing, the same old nonsense. Chick, chick, chick!

SONIA. Why are you calling the chickens?

MARINA. The speckled hen has disappeared with her chicks. I am afraid
the crows have got her.

TELEGIN plays a polka. All listen in silence. Enter WORKMAN.

WORKMAN. Is the doctor here? [To ASTROFF] Excuse me, sir, but I have
been sent to fetch you.

ASTROFF. Where are you from?

WORKMAN. The factory.

ASTROFF. [Annoyed] Thank you. There is nothing for it, then, but to go.
[Looking around him for his cap] Damn it, this is annoying!

SONIA. Yes, it is too bad, really. You must come back to dinner from the
factory.

ASTROFF. No, I won't be able to do that. It will be too late. Now where,
where--[To the WORKMAN] Look here, my man, get me a glass of vodka, will
you? [The WORKMAN goes out] Where--where--[Finds his cap] One of the
characters in Ostroff's plays is a man with a long moustache and short
wits, like me. However, let me bid you good-bye, ladies and gentlemen.
[To HELENA] I should be really delighted if you would come to see me
some day with Miss Sonia. My estate is small, but if you are interested
in such things I should like to show you a nursery and seed-bed whose
like you will not find within a thousand miles of here. My place is
surrounded by government forests. The forester is old and always ailing,
so I superintend almost all the work myself.

HELENA. I have always heard that you were very fond of the woods. Of
course one can do a great deal of good by helping to preserve them, but
does not that work interfere with your real calling?

ASTROFF. God alone knows what a man's real calling is.

HELENA. And do you find it interesting?

ASTROFF. Yes, very.

VOITSKI. [Sarcastically] Oh, extremely!

HELENA. You are still young, not over thirty-six or seven, I should say,
and I suspect that the woods do not interest you as much as you say they
do. I should think you would find them monotonous.

SONIA. No, the work is thrilling. Dr. Astroff watches over the old woods
and sets out new plantations every year, and he has already received a
diploma and a bronze medal. If you will listen to what he can tell you,
you will agree with him entirely. He says that forests are the ornaments
of the earth, that they teach mankind to understand beauty and attune
his mind to lofty sentiments. Forests temper a stern climate, and in
countries where the climate is milder, less strength is wasted in the
battle with nature, and the people are kind and gentle. The inhabitants
of such countries are handsome, tractable, sensitive, graceful in speech
and gesture. Their philosophy is joyous, art and science blossom among
them, their treatment of women is full of exquisite nobility----

VOITSKI. [Laughing] Bravo! Bravo! All that is very pretty, but it is
also unconvincing. So, my friend [To ASTROFF] you must let me go on
burning firewood in my stoves and building my sheds of planks.

ASTROFF. You can burn peat in your stoves and build your sheds of stone.
Oh, I don't object, of course, to cutting wood from necessity, but why
destroy the forests? The woods of Russia are trembling under the blows
of the axe. Millions of trees have perished. The homes of the wild
animals and birds have been desolated; the rivers are shrinking, and
many beautiful landscapes are gone forever. And why? Because men are too
lazy and stupid to stoop down and pick up their fuel from the ground.
[To HELENA] Am I not right, Madame? Who but a stupid barbarian could
burn so much beauty in his stove and destroy that which he cannot make?
Man is endowed with reason and the power to create, so that he may
increase that which has been given him, but until now he has not
created, but demolished. The forests are disappearing, the rivers are
running dry, the game is exterminated, the climate is spoiled, and the
earth becomes poorer and uglier every day. [To VOITSKI] I read irony in
your eye; you do not take what I am saying seriously, and--and--after
all, it may very well be nonsense. But when I pass peasant-forests
that I have preserved from the axe, or hear the rustling of the young
plantations set out with my own hands, I feel as if I had had some small
share in improving the climate, and that if mankind is happy a thousand
years from now I will have been a little bit responsible for their
happiness. When I plant a little birch tree and then see it budding
into young green and swaying in the wind, my heart swells with pride and
I--[Sees the WORKMAN, who is bringing him a glass of vodka on a tray]
however--[He drinks] I must be off. Probably it is all nonsense, anyway.
Good-bye.

He goes toward the house. SONIA takes his arm and goes with him.

SONIA. When are you coming to see us again?

ASTROFF. I can't say.

SONIA. In a month?

ASTROFF and SONIA go into the house. HELENA and VOITSKI walk over to the
terrace.

HELENA. You have behaved shockingly again. Ivan, what sense was there
in teasing your mother and talking about _perpetuum mobile?_ And at
breakfast you quarreled with Alexander again. Really, your behaviour is
too petty.

VOITSKI. But if I hate him?

HELENA. You hate Alexander without reason; he is like every one else,
and no worse than you are.

VOITSKI. If you could only see your face, your gestures! Oh, how tedious
your life must be.

HELENA. It is tedious, yes, and dreary! You all abuse my husband and
look on me with compassion; you think, "Poor woman, she is married to
an old man." How well I understand your compassion! As Astroff said just
now, see how you thoughtlessly destroy the forests, so that there will
soon be none left. So you also destroy mankind, and soon fidelity and
purity and self-sacrifice will have vanished with the woods. Why cannot
you look calmly at a woman unless she is yours? Because, the doctor
was right, you are all possessed by a devil of destruction; you have no
mercy on the woods or the birds or on women or on one another.

VOITSKI. I don't like your philosophy.

HELENA. That doctor has a sensitive, weary face--an interesting face.
Sonia evidently likes him, and she is in love with him, and I can
understand it. This is the third time he has been here since I have
come, and I have not had a real talk with him yet or made much of him.
He thinks I am disagreeable. Do you know, Ivan, the reason you and I are
such friends? I think it is because we are both lonely and unfortunate.
Yes, unfortunate. Don't look at me in that way, I don't like it.

VOITSKI. How can I look at you otherwise when I love you? You are my
joy, my life, and my youth. I know that my chances of being loved in
return are infinitely small, do not exist, but I ask nothing of you.
Only let me look at you, listen to your voice--

HELENA. Hush, some one will overhear you.

[They go toward the house.]

VOITSKI. [Following her] Let me speak to you of my love, do not drive me
away, and this alone will be my greatest happiness!

HELENA. Ah! This is agony!

TELEGIN strikes the strings of his guitar and plays a polka. MME.
VOITSKAYA writes something on the leaves of her pamphlet.

The curtain falls.

Marina and Astrov drink tea in the garden of Serebryakov's country house. They talk about how they've known each other for at least eleven years. Astrov thinks that he has become old and eccentric. Voynitsky, aka Vanya, comes out of the house after his nap. He complains that ever since Professor Serebryakov and his wife have come to the house to live his schedule has been interrupted. Marina also notices that the Professor has screwed up the house's eating schedule, and Vanya worries that they'll stay for a hundred years. Serebryakov, his wife Yelena, his daughter Sonya, and their neighbor Telegin come into the garden from their walk. Only Telegin joins Marina for tea. Vanya gets in some jabs about how old the Professor is and also moons over how beautiful the Professor's wife is. Vanya thinks that Yelena should betray her old husband so that she can be true to herself and enjoy her youth. Telegin thinks that's not such a great idea. Sonya and Yelena come out into the garden, and Mariya, the mother of Vanya and of the Professor's first wife, joins them. Mariya tries to start talking about a philosophical or political debate that she's been reading, but Vanya cuts her off rudely. He's jealous of how much his mother admires the Professor and makes vaguely suicidal references. Astrov, a doctor, is called away to the factory and as he goes Sonya starts bragging about what a great guy he is. It turns out he has earned medals for planting new trees and campaigning against the destruction of old forests. This really gets Astrov going and he starts on a tirade against the people who are cutting down the trees instead of using peat to burn and building their houses of stone instead of wood. Sonya leaves to see Astrov to the door, and while they're gone, Yelena scolds Vanya for the way he acted toward his mother and her husband. Vanya confesses his love to Yelena, and she begs him to stop before someone hears.