Ivanov
Authors: Anton Chekhov
Ivanov
Anton Chekhov, Russian dramatist and short-story writer, was born in 1860, the son of a grocer and the grandson of a serf. After graduating in medicine from Moscow University in 1884, he began to make his name in the theatre with the one-act comedies
The Bear, The Proposal
and
The Wedding.
His earliest full-length plays,
Ivanov
(1887) and
The Wood Demon
(1889), were not successful, and
The Seagull,
produced in 1896, was a failure until a triumphant revival by the Moscow Art Theatre in 1898. This was followed by
Uncle Vanya
(1899),
Three Sisters
(1901) and
The Cherry Orchard
(1904), shortly after the production of which Chekhov died. The first English translations of his plays were performed within five years of his death.
Tom Stoppard has made English versions of
The Seagull
(1997) and
The Cherry Orchard
(2009). His other translations and adaptations include
The House of Bernarda Alba
(Lorca),
Undiscovered Country
and
Dalliance
(Schnitzler),
On the Razzle
(Nestroy),
Rough Crossing
(Molnár),
Largo Desolato
(Havel),
Heroes
(Sibleyras) and
Henry IV
(Pirandello).
Plays
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead
*
Enter a Free Man
* ·
The Real Inspector Hound
*
After Magritte
* ·
Jumpers
* ·
Travesties
*
Dirty Linen and New-Found-Land
*
Every Good Boy Deserves Favour
*
Night and Day
·
Dogg’s Hamlet, Cahoot’s Macbeth
*
Undiscovered Country
(adapted from Arthur Schnitzler’s
Das weite Land
)
On the Razzle
(adapted from Johann Nestroy’s
Einen Jux will er sich machen
)
The Real Thing
·
Rough Crossing
(adapted from Ferenc Molnár’s
Play at the Castle
)
Dalliance
(adapted from Arthur Schnitzler’s
Liebelei
)
Hapgood
·
Arcadia
Indian Ink
(an adaptation of
In the Native State
)
The Invention of Love
*
· Voyage: The Coast of Utopia Part I
*
Shipwreck: The Coast of Utopia Part II
*
Salvage: The Coast of Utopia Part III
*
Rock ‘n‘
Roll
*
Television Scripts
A Separate Peace
·
Teeth
·
Another Moon Called Earth
Neutral Ground · Professional Foul
·
Squaring the Circle
Radio Plays
The Dissolution of Dominic Boot
“M” Is for Moon Among Other Things
If You’re Glad, I’ll Be Frank
·
Albert’s Bridge
Where Are They Now?
·
Artist Descending a Staircase
The Dog It Was That Died
·
In the Native State
On Dover Beach
Screenplays
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead
Shakespeare in Love
(with Marc Norman)
Fiction
Lord Malquist and Mr. Moon*
*Available from Grove Press
ANTON CHEKHOV
Ivanov
in a new English version by
TOM STOPPARD
based on a literal translation by Helen Rappaport
Grove Press
New York
Adapation copyright © 2008 by Tom Stoppard
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, or the facilitation thereof, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. Any members of educational institutions wishing to photocopy part or all of the work for classroom use, or publishers who would like to obtain permission to include the work in an anthology, should send their inquiries to Grove/Atlantic, Inc., 841 Broadway, New York, NY 10003.
CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that
Ivanov
is subject to a royalty. It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States, Canada, United Kingdom, and all British Commonwealth countries, and all countries covered by the International Copyright Union, the Pan-American Copyright Convention, and the Universal Copyright Convention. All rights, including professional, amateur, motion picture, recitation, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, video or sound taping, all other forms of mechanical or electronic reproduction, such as information storage and retrieval systems and photocopying, and rights of translation into foreign languages, are strictly reserved.
First-class professional, stock, and amateur applications for permission to perform it, and those other rights stated above, for Ivanov must be made in advance to the author’s agent, United Agents Ltd., 12-26 Lexington Street, London, W1F 0LE, Attn: Rose Cobbe.
First published in 2008 in Great Britain by Faber and Faber Limited
ISBN: 978-0-8021-4408-9
eISBN: 978-0-8021-9102-1
Printed in the United States of America
Grove Press
an imprint of Grove/Atlantic, Inc.
841 Broadway
New York, NY 10003
Distributed by Publishers Group West
09 10 11 12 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Ivanov
in this version was first presented by the Donmar Warehouse at the Wyndham’s Theatre, London, on 12 September 2008. The cast, in order of appearance, was as follows:
Ivanov
Kenneth Branagh
Borkin
Lorcan Cranitch
Shabelsky
Malcolm Sinclair
Anna
Petrovna
Gina McKee
Lvov
Tom Hiddleston
Zinaida
Sylvestra Le Touzel
Kosykh
James Tucker
Avdotya
Linda Broughton
Yegorushka
John Atterbury
Anasim
Ian Drysdale
Natalia
Emma Beattie
Yacob
Malcolm Ridley
Nikander
James Howard
Gavrila
Jonathan Battersby
Lipa
Giovanna Falcone
Babakina
Lucy Briers
Lebedev
Kevin R. McNally
Sasha
Andrea Riseborough
Pyotr
John Atterbury
Director
Michael Grandage
Set and Costume Designer
Christopher Oram
Lighting Designer
Paule Constable
Composer and Sound Designer
Adam Cork
Characters
Nikolay Ivanov,
landowner and regional councillor
Anna Petrovna,
his wife
Count Matvey Shabelsky,
his maternal uncle
Mikhail Borkin,
his estate manager
Yevgeny
Lvov, a young doctor
Pyotr,
Ivanov’s servant
At the Lebedevs
Pavel Lebedev,
a wealthy neighbour
Zinaida,
his wife
Sasha,
their daughter
Marfa Babakina,
a wealthy young widow
Dmitry Kosykh,
an excise officer
Avdotya Nazarovna,
an old woman
Yegorushka,
a dependent
Gavrila,
a servant
First Guest
Second Guest
Third Guest
Fourth Guest
and Visitors, Wedding Guests, Servants
IVANOV
Notes
Words in square brackets may be overlapped or elided.
‘Nicolas’ is pronounced as in French.
Act One
Outdoors at Ivanov’s estate: the house-front with an open window, a terrace, some garden furniture, a suggestion of the garden beyond and an avenue of trees. Evening is drawing in. From the window, the sound of a duet, piano and cello, practising.
Ivanov sits at the table reading a book. Borkin, in high top-boots, with a rifle, appears from the garden. He is tipsy. Catching sight of Ivanov, he tiptoes up to him and, coming alongside him, points the gun at Ivanov’s face.
Ivanov
(
jumping up
)
For God’s sake, Misha
–
what?!
–
you scared the
–
! I’m a bag of nerves as it is without you, without your stupid . . .
Borkin
(
guffaws
)
Right, right, apologies, sorry.
Ivanov
You scared the life out of me and you think it’s funny . . .
Borkin
(
sits down next to him
)
Won’t happen again
–
promise. (
Takes off his cap.
)
Lord, it’s hot. Think of it, dear chap
–
I’ve covered sixteen versts in three hours, I’m knackered
–
heart going like the clappers, lend us your hand a minute . . .
Ivanov
(
reading
)
I’m reading . . .
Borkin
No, feel my heart
–
He takes Ivanov’s hand and puts it to his chest.
Can you feel? Di-dum, di-dum, di-dum, dum-dim
–
see? Heart disease! I could drop dead any moment. Actually
–
would you be sorry if I died?
Ivanov
I’m
reading,
ask me later.
Borkin
Seriously though, would you? If I died would you miss me, Nikolay?
Ivanov
Will you please stop [bothering me]!
Borkin
Just say
–
would you mind if I –
Ivanov
What I mind is you reeking of vodka.
Borkin
(
laughs
)
Do I? I’m amazed. Well, not really. Nothing amazing about it. I ran into the magistrate in town, we knocked back a few or seven or eight. Actually, drinking’s not good for you. It’s bad for you, in fact
–
wouldn’t you agree? Eh? Bad for you?
Ivanov
This really is . . . Can’t you understand you’re driving me [mad]?
Borkin
Right, right . . . apologies, sorry again . . .!
He gets up and moves off.
Some people are extraordinary
–
you’re not even allowed to talk to them.
He returns.
Oh
–
almost forgot
–
eighty-two roubles, please.
Ivanov
What eighty-two roubles?
Borkin
Tomorrow’s wages for the workmen.
Ivanov
I
haven’t got it.
Borkin
Oh, good. ‘I haven’t got it’! Perhaps you think the men can go without their wages?
Ivanov
I
don’t know what I think. I just haven’t got it. You’ll have to wait till the first of the month.
Borkin
We’re not connecting here
–
the men aren’t coming for their wages on the first of the month, they’re coming tomorrow [morning].
Ivanov
Well, what am I supposed to do about it? (
Angrily.
)
And since when do you think you can interrupt me when I’m [reading]?
Borkin
Look, I’m only asking
–
do we give the men their wages or don’t we? Waste of breath. Gentleman farmers! Three thousand acres of scientific agriculture and not a bean to show for it. Like having a wine cellar and no corkscrew. Maybe I’ll just up and sell the troika tomorrow! I sold the oats on the stalk, see if I don’t sell the barley. If you think I’d think twice you’ve got the wrong man.
Shabelsky is heard through the window.
Shabelsky
It’s impossible to play with you! I’ve known stuffed carp with more ear for music.
Anna
(
appearing at the open window
)
Who’s that
–
you, Misha? What are you stamping about for?
Borkin
You’d be stamping about if you had to deal with your
cher Maître
Nicolas.
Anna
Oh
–
Misha
–
get them to bring some hay to the croquet lawn.
Borkin
(
waves his hand dismissively
)
Kindly don’t bother me now.
Anna
Now don’t get high and mighty
–
women find it unattractive. Oh Nikolay!
–
let’s go and do cartwheels in the hay!
Ivanov
It can’t be good for you standing at an open window, do go inside, Anyuta darling. (
Shouts.
)
Uncle
–
close the window!
The window closes.
Borkin
And another thing
–
Lebedev’s due his interest the day after tomorrow.
Ivanov
I
know. I’m going over there later
–
I’ll ask for more time.
Borkin
You’re going when?
Ivanov
(
looking at his pocket watch
)
Now
–
soon
–
Borkin
(
eagerly
)
Hang on, isn’t it Sasha’s birthday today? Silly me
–
I almost forgot
–
what a memory! (
Hops about.
)
Tell you what, I’ll come along with you
–
(
Sings.
)
I’ll come along with you . . . First a swim, chew some paper, splash on some anti-booze and start off the day again.
Mon ange, mon frère, mon petit
Nikolay Alekseevich
–
you’re all jumpy and down in the dumps all the time, always moaning, goodness me
–
You and me, me and you, what the two of us couldn’t do only the devil could! There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you How about if I marry Marfushka Babakina? Half the dowry is yours. Did I say half?
–
have the lot!
Ivanov
Do stop talking rubbish.
Borkin
No, I’m
serious, really and truly
–
Do you want me to marry Marfa? Divvy up the dowry? . . . I don’t know why I bother. (
Mimics him.
)
’Do stop talking rubbish’! You’re not a bad chap, quite bright, really, but what you need is a bit of get up and go . . . You’re a case, a chronic gloom merchant, which if you weren’t, you could have a million inside a year. Here’s a for instance: Ovsyanov is selling a strip of land on the other bank just opposite, for 2, 300 roubles. If we buy it we’ll own both sides of the river. And if both banks are ours
–
follow me?
–
we’d have the right to build a dam. Yes? We start building a mill, and as soon as we tell them we want to make a mill pond, everyone downstream will kick up a fuss and we’ll put it to them straight
–
kommen Sie hier
–
if you don’t want the dam, it will cost you. Am I getting through? The Zarevsky factory will be
good for five thousand, Korokolkov three thousand, five thousand from the monastery . . .
Ivanov
That’s called extortion. If you don’t want a row keep your ideas to yourself.
Borkin
(
sits down at the table
)
Of course! I should have known.
Shabelsky comes out of the house with Lvov.
Shabelsky
Doctors!
–
They’re like lawyers, only with doctors when they’ve finished robbing you, you die . . . any doctors present excepted, of course. Bloodsucking quacks. There may be some utopia where exceptions prove the rule, but in my life I must have spent about twenty thousand on doctors and never met one who wasn’t an out-and-out swindler with a licence to practise.
Borkin
(
resuming, to Ivanov
)
Yes, tie my hands and sit on your own
–
that’s why we’re broke.
Shabelsky
Present company excepted, as I say
–
there could be anomalies . . . (
Yawns.
)
though frankly I doubt it.
Ivanov
(
closing his book
)
So, doctor, what’s the verdict?
Lvov
(
glancing round at the window
)
No different from this morning – she needs to go south immediately – to the Crimea.
Shabelsky
(
snorts with laughter
)
To the Crimea! . . . We should all be doctors! It’s so simple
–
Madame’s got a tickle in her throat, or coughing for something to do, so grab a sheet of paper and prescribe as follows: take one young doctor, followed by one trip to the Crimea, and in the Crimea, one good-looking Tartar to put the colour in her cheeks . . .
Ivanov
(
to Shabelsky
)
Would you stop blathering on! (
To Lvov.
)
To go to the Crimea requires money, and even supposing I find it, she won’t hear of it.
Lvov
I know.
Borkin
I say, Doctor, is Anna Petrovna really as ill as all that?
–
Crimea and everything?
Lvov
(
glancing round at the window
)
Yes, it’s tuberculosis.
Borkin
Oof! . . . Not good . . . I could see in her face for a while now she’s not long for this world.
Lvov
Please keep your voice down
–
you can be heard indoors.
Borkin
(
sighing
)
Life . . .! Life is like a flower in a field
–
we just have time to come into bloom, then along comes a goat and goodbye flower.
Shabelsky
It’s all nonsense and nothing but nonsense! . . . (
Yawns.
)
Nonsense and humbug . . .
Pause.
Borkin
I’ve been telling Nikolay Alekseevich how to make some money. I gave him a wonderful idea, but as ever the powder flashed in the pan. You can’t shift him . . . Look at him
–
a picture of misery . . . apathetic, worried sick.
Shabelsky
(
stands up and stretches
)
You have a fat-headed genius for scheming and telling everybody how to change their lives
–
but you’ve never once taught me anything
–
go on, show me how, if you’re so clever
–
show me the way.
Borkin
(
moving off
)
I’m going for a swim . . .
Au revoir,
gents
–
I could teach you twenty ways
–
Shabelsky
(
following him
)
Go on then, show me.
Borkin
Nothing to it. In your shoes I’d have twenty thousand in a week. (
Comes back.
)
Nikolay Alekseevich, can you give me a rouble?
Ivanov silently hands him the money.
Merci!
(
To Shabelsky.
)
You’ve got all the cards in your hand.
Shabelsky
(
following him
)
So, what are they?
Borkin
In your place I’d have thirty thousand in a week.
Shabelsky follows Borkin out.
Ivanov
(
aside
)
Useless people, useless talk, stupid questions . . . I’m ill with it. I’ve become crotchety, bad-tempered, rude to everyone . . . small-minded . . . I don’t know myself any more. My headaches last for days, I can’t sleep, there’s a buzzing in my ears, and there’s nowhere, absolutely nowhere, I can get away from everything.
Lvov
I need to have a serious talk with you.
Ivanov
(
continuing
)
Nowhere.
Lvov
About your wife. She won’t agree to the Crimea but she’d go if you went with her.
Ivanov turns to Lvov.
Ivanov
The cost of both of us going . . . Anyway I can’t get away. I’ve already taken time off this year.
Lvov
All right, say you can’t. Next point. The best medicine for TB is complete rest, and your wife doesn’t get a moment’s peace. She’s constantly upset by the way you treat her. Forgive me
–
I’m upset myself and I have to speak plainly. Your behaviour is killing her. Nikolay Alekseevich
–
please help me to think better of you.
Ivanov
It’s true. It’s all true. I’m terribly to blame no doubt, but my mind is so confused, I’m sick to my soul with a sort of lassitude, I haven’t the energy to make sense of anything. (
Glances at the window.
)
Let’s move
off, go for a stroll . . . I wish I could tell you everything from the very beginning but I’d need all night.
They start to move off.
Anna was
–
is
–
a rare, remarkable woman. She changed her faith for me, her name
–
abandoned home and family, gave up her fortune . . . and if I’d asked her for a hundred other sacrifices she’d have made them without a second’s thought. Not like me. I haven’t sacrificed a thing, and there’s nothing remarkable about me. Well, anyway . . . (
Ponders.
)
Well, briefly, I married her because I was madly in love, I swore I would love her for ever, but . . . five years went by, she still loves me but I . . . (
Spreads hands in a gesture of helplessness.
)
And here you are telling me she’ll soon be dead, and I feel no love or pity but only a kind of hollowness. To you it must look awful
–
I don’t understand what’s happening to me myself . . .