Prince Shakhovskoi was borderline highbrow, and therefore might be rather elitist for this anthology. A contemporary of Pushkin and Karamzin, he was active in the literary polemics of his day. Yet he was more popular with mixed theater audiences than with the intelligentsia he parodied (and offended). Despite an aristocratic upbringing, he found his niche as director of St. Petersburg's imperial theater; merchants from neighboring Gostinnyi dvor crowded the seats and set the tone for the most bourgeois of Russia's official theaters. Author and translator of more than 100 plays, Shakhovskoi was indispensable to the development of Russian vaudeville. He knew how to please crowds, and in so doing, expanded the scope of the middlebrow.The New Sterne, a takeoff on Lawrence Sterne's Sentimental Journey, was Shakhovskoi's first major success. Performed first in 1805, it circulated provincial theaters for years after. The piece lampoons Karamzin, "the Russian Sterne," and the sentimentalism he made fashionable with his Poor Liza. Shakhovskoi recreated that classic sentimental scenario: the nobleman in love with the common girl. But no "glistening tears" need fall for the plight of his heroine. The affected Count Pronsky and his hapless man servant Ipat struggle with the effusive vocabulary of the genre, finding everything "touching"&emdash;and thus arousing the suspicion of peasant women. Shakhovskoi does not offer the trenchant social commentary of Griboedov's more famous parody of westernized nobility, Woe from Wit, but instead shows up the ridiculous excesses of a youthful fad.
The play has been translated from A. A. Shakhovskoi, Komediia, Stikhotvoreniia (Leningrad: Sovetskii pisatel', 1961), 735-752. This is a translation of the full text; a partial translation is available in Entertaining Tsarist Russia.
Count Pronsky, a sentimental voyager | Kuzminishna, the local miller's widow |
Sudbin, a retired major and friend of Pronsky's father | Malania, her daughter |
Ipat, Pronsky's servant, a serf | Foka, Malania's fiancé |
The action takes place about 500 versts from Moscow. The setting should be an attractive site; a river and a mill in the distance, and on stage left a small hill with pine trees.
Ipat: Is that really you, sir? I don't believe my eyes! You, fivehundred versts from Moscow? Have you parted company with your oldgeneral?
Sudbin: Your master's wild behavior separated me from hisfather!
Ipat: What, sir! So you're chasing after his excellency?
Sudbin: Yes! Soon it will be a month that I've been tracking you.My loyalty to the old Count Pronsky has made me a traveler against mywill. The father of your Count wanted to marry him to a good, sweetgirl, the daughter of one of our old friends; he wrote to him inPetersburg, telling him to request a leave, but in return he receiveda letter half the size of a book, which with great difficulty wefinally understood to say that the young man feels too delicate formilitary service, and that his heart is too sentimental for marriagewithout passion and that he's too enraptured with newfangled ideas;therefore, he's leaving the army and, not wanting to marry butdesiring to publish a diary, he's decided to travel all over Russia.The old general was beset with anxiety and wanted to write toPetersburg and ask everyone about getting his son back. But I,remembering our own youth, persuaded him not to make the matterpublic, because that might prove ruinous for his son. Instead, Irented a carriage and set out to find the boy. I hope that I will beable to deliver your master from his delusions.
Ipat: Not likely! Every day my lord becomes more sentimental, moretouching, more interesting!
Sudbin: From what kind of silly book did you get those words?
Ipat: Oh, sir, if only I knew! The azure-pink sky, a subject ofspeculation, flowers of eternity, a balming influence!
Sudbin: Enough, enough. Tell me what you two are doing here.
Ipat: Us? Depending on the weather, we're sighing, weeping,rejoicing, being touched, touching. The bright sun warms ourfeelings, the terrible frost fortifies our life's blood, the melodyof a rolling river feeds our melancholy, a still lake forms a mirrorfor our sentimentalism; finally, a bucket, the wind, rain, mountains,woods, meadows, marshes, people, cows, birds, flies,mosquitoes&emdash;all influence our soul. In a word, we'resentimental voyagers! But, alas, fate willed that among the three ofus geniuses, death would take one! Oh, Lady, you are no longer! Ah!eternity!
Sudbin: What! What do you mean? Has someone died? Who's thisLady?
Ipat: A sensitive, grateful, sentimental friend to humanity, asymbol of fidelity! alas, the English dog that got run over by acarriage here three days ago, and to whom the Count has built amonument to eternity.
Sudbin: And that's what's keeping him here?
Ipat: Well, not completely. The death of the devoted Lady leftsuch an emptiness in our hearts that my master wants to fill it withthe daughter of the local miller.
Sudbin: You mean Kuzminishna, at whose house I'm staying?
Ipat: Her, sir, that's her. Yesterday, when we were crying overour friend, Malania, the touching shepherdess, was herding gentlecows, romantic sheep, and well nourished pigs with a supple rod intoa modest pen. She was singing, "Over the mountains, over themountains." Her voice reverberated in our souls! Today I was orderedto go before dawn to encounter this enchantress, to tell her that alord was asking about her. I took to my heels, approached,looked&emdash;and saw the distinguished and honorable friend of ourelderly Count: my heart began pounding with fear and hope.
Sudbin: If you help me to recruit your Count back among normalpeople, you have nothing to fear from me.
Ipat: You can count on me as on a stone wall, especially because Iwould like to retire from being a sentimental voyager.
Sudbin: I just had a novel idea: I'll launch a counterfeit attack!In war, in love, and in good business craftiness always works. And ifI say that I am the father of this feminine conqueror? Ha, ha, ha. Atleast with this trick I can teach your artful companion a lesson. Ah,here comes my landlady now. Kuzminishna! Foka!
Kuzminishna: So, good sir, what do you want? Is my establishmentsatisfactory to you?
Sudbin: My friend, I need to talk with you. Do you have a fewminutes now?
Kuzminishna: I was on my way to talk to the overseer aboutFokushka's marriage to my Malashka, but that can be put off.
Foka: What do you mean, put off? I keep telling you not to wastetime. It's time we got married!
Kuzminishna: What's with you, Foka? This nice man isn't one of us.We have to listen when good people speak.
Foka: You listen, I'm going.
Sudbin: No, I need you, too. Listen, have you seen the gentlemanwho is staying here in the village?
Kuzminishna: How could we not have seen him, that handsome ray ofsunshine!
Foka: Yes, handsome, admirable, he's like the sky … (seesIpat) Ah, what are you doing here? Soon you will have howled yourselfout over your little dog.
Kuzminishna: Watch yourself, Foka. It's not good to try to pick afight in front of gentlemen.
Foka: It's not good for the gentlemen to run after our girls.
Ipat: Well I never! We don't even talk to your girls.
Sudbin: No, Foka, you're right and I want to help you to teachthis lord otherwise. He's the son of a friend of mine, and againsthis father's will he's going wherever it pleases him.
Kuzminishna: What! against parental permission? He's headed fortrouble, yes, headed for trouble.
Foka: It's obvious that he's lost his mind.
Sudbin: You've pretty much figured out that he's fallen off thestraight and narrow. I want to return him to his father, and in orderto do that, I have to ask you, Kuzminishna, to say that I am yourhusband.
Kuzminishna: What do you mean, sir? This won't work for an oldwoman like me. Do you look like the corpse of my late husband? No onewill believe you.
Ipat: She's right, sir. The miller had a beard, but you …
Sudbin: It's true.
Foka: What are you getting all wound up about? The beard isn't theissue. First the miller, then Eremevna. You'll laugh yourself sick atthe faces they'll be making! The godfather Andriushka, he'll mock thelord most of all; he'll say he didn't know him at first, you'llsee.
Ipat: Andriushka isn't the problem. Tell me, do you have abeard?
Foka: Do you think I came with it? Indeed, there's a beard, andwigs, and all sorts of rubbish, hell knows what all there is.
Ipat: My master is coming down from the mountain. He's stopping,filling his lungs, admiring! Ah! Alas!
Count (still on the mountain): Oh Nature! Oh Sterne! I am silent,and only my silence makes me worthy of you.
Ipat: Can you hear, how my master allows himself to be quiet?
Count (falling to his knees): Creator of worlds, I sacrificemyself to you! Superior being!
Kuzminishna: Who is he bowing to, dear fellow? or does he worshippine trees?
Foka: You'll find out. Here he comes.
Sudbin: Let's move away so that he can't see us; everyone behindme!
Count: The morning is clear, my soul is clear! But there, therebehind the smoky mountains, behind the disconsolate forest, aremillions of people. Miraculous, bright Nature! Here I lost my true,delicate, attentive friend! Oh, Lady, Lady, you are no more. Tears tofriendship. Here I encountered an innocent being, an angel in theimage of an interesting shepherdess! Oh, sigh of love! Her gaze washere! The flaming arrow of love has etched her silhouette on myheart! All night long morose Morpheus did not darken my eyesight: shewas always in my mind's eye! In vain did I leaf through La NouvelleHeloise1: everywhere I saw only the name of my unknown maiden! Atlast my humble Genius inspired my languorous muse with a sweetromance. We will force Narcissus's lover2 to repeat it. Guitar, mysensitive friend, aid my languid voice! …
Crowns, swords, shields, cloaks,
I'm not seeking you, poor things,
Heroes, conquerors of the world,&emdash;
I do not tremble before you.Nature herself told me,
That I must live among the flowers,
She commanded me to love,
She is the warbler of love!Rivers snake along, winds blow,
Young Zephyr whispers of love,
You, tender doves are cooing,
You, nightingales, are captivating the world.Nature! I am quite like you:
I want to experience at will;
Like a meek rabbit, I am gentle,
And in pursuit of love fly everywhere!
Count: What harmony in this landscape! what hues in Nature!(seeing Ipat) Simple son of Nature, exult in your mother! (wants toembrace him) Phoo! How he smells of vodka! How long will youdisfigure Nature with that drink of folly? Have you been drinkingvodka?
Ipat: Guilty. I had a tumbler in the nearby pub … for thehealth of Mother Nature and your excellency.
Count: You profane yourself every day with that accursed vodka,and for what?
Ipat: Oh, sir, I swear I never drink without a reason. Four daysago I drank because there was nothing else to do, three days ago Idrank to help my bellyache, yesterday I drank from misery, and todayI drink from happiness.
Count: What sort of happiness?
Ipat: Oh, sir, what kind? Joy of the soul, the heart, theimagination. As your excellency ordered, today I woke up before thesun and ran to the mill, but I had barely gotten down the hill when Imet&emdash;whom do you think?
Count: My heart has guessed! You encountered …
Ipat: I met … a kind, rust-colored cow, who was being led byher twisted horns by …
Count: Her?
Ipat: No, not exactly her, but someone like her; in a word, hersister Domna. Dear, sharp, quick Domna! enchantress, captivator,conqueror of faithful, clever, and agile Ipat!
Count: What! And so you were touched, you fell in love?
Ipat: Ah, Nature! My eyes had just caught sight of the cow andDomna when my heart began to pound and my legs carried me to her."Hello, pretty maiden!" "Hello yourself, young man!" "Do you know, mylittle queen, whose mill this is?" "How could I not know, it belongsto my father Sidor Arkhipych." "What! It's Arkhipych's? Kiss me forthat good news." "Do you really know him?" "No, but I am ferventlydevoted to all Sidors and am madly in love with all Arkhipyches. Tellme, was that your sister who was driving the gentle cattleyesterday?" "What a clever man! Indeed, it was my sisterMalania."
Count: What do I hear? Her name is Melanie1?
Ipat: Malania, sir.
Count: How crude! what ignorance! how is it possible to ruin themost interesting names? Only here do we tolerate that! Marmontel,LaHarpe, Destouches&emdash;you would turn over in your graves to hearthe barbarian appellation that we give to your Melanie! Listen, ifyou desecrate my hearing again, then for the honor of literature andsentimentalism I'll let you feel the strength of my hand.
Ipat: I'm ready to rebaptize her if you'd like, but …
Count: Continue!
Ipat: Her sister told me that this interesting, uh,what's-her-name is getting married.
Count: What! Who is this lucky mortal?
Ipat: The son of the blacksmith Antip, Foka, named for the saintedFok.
Count: A blacksmith's son! Foka! … But Melanie must captivateall who have a heart.
Ipat: Oh, and Foka has the most passionate heart! He almost showedme his passion.
Count: Did you talk to her? did you tell her sister that I…
Ipat: And what did you order me to say about you? You've forbiddenme to call you Count Pronsky, and it's been four months already andyou haven't chosen another name.
Count: It's true that I still haven't been able to select theproper name for a sentimental voyager.
Ipat: What's making you change your name anyway?
Count: Everything: the desire to hide from those who are probablychasing after me, and the custom, consecrated by Sterne, who traveledunder the name of Yorick.
Ipat: Yorick? that's a great name! What does it mean in theirlanguage?
Count: Nothing. Yorick was the jester of an English king.
Ipat: A king's jester? perfect! Thank my brain; it's found a namefor you.
Count: What?
Ipat: If this Yorick was the jester of an English king, andBalakirev was the jester of a Russian tsar, then what's keeping youfrom calling yourself Balakirev?
Count: Balakir1? No, that sounds terrible to the ears: Balakir!What do I hear? The voice of the interesting Melanie!
Count: What rapturous innocence! My legs are failing me; I cannotapproach this angel, who has come to our earth from etherealheights!
Ipat: I'll go for you. Good journey, pretty one! Stop, I say, mybeauty.
Malania: Me? I thought you meant someone else.
Count: He called you Beauty, and that is your name.
Malania: Oh, sir, you're teasing. My name is Malania.
Count: Modest violet! Interesting Melanie! My sentimentalangel!
Malania: Sir, I can't speak German. (to Ipat) Isn't heRussian?
Ipat: Well, sort of. One or the other.
Count: Hear me out, my touching shepherdess.
Malania: What are you saying, sir. I'm not an orphan that I needto be working as a shepherdess; I've got a mother.
Ipat: And a father.
Malania: What? Well, yes, I guess I've got a father, too.
Count: Must I believe the rumor that is breaking my heart? I heardthat you are going to be married.
Malania: Everyone knows I am marrying Foka, the blacksmith'sson.
Count: And you have given your heart to him?
Malania: You're joking, sir.
Count: What, a knot of sympathy is not binding you together? youare free? It must be that mercenary parental tyranny is scorching thepale cheeks of the children with flaming tears. What! You think youmust submit to your parents' will?
Malania: Whom do we obey if not our mothers?
Count (to Ipat): What patriarchal principles!
Ipat: Principles patriarchal!
Count: Thus, if only youthful servility is forcing you to become awife, I will take it upon myself to liberate you.
Malania: I'm free enough.
Count: Angel! You are free! Ipat, are you rejoicing in thisingenuous daughter of Nature?
Ipat: I weep!
Count: Chaste virtue!
Ipat: Virtue chaste!
Count (to Malania): Where are you going?
Malania: It's not nice for me to eavesdrop when others aretalking.
Count: What integrity! How all the sophisticated beauties mustblush before this peasant girl!
Ipat: The chambermaids and the ladies of the manor mustblush&emdash;that is, if they can.
Malania: Really, this isn't what Foka says to me; he'd be besidehimself. How he'd screw up his face, looking at me! Oh, I'm startingto get afraid. Why aren't our people here?
Count: I implore you again, open to me all the curves of yourheart, speak only one word, look at me, my beauty! Agnes! Violet!
Malania: He's been overwhelmed.
Count: What interesting timidity! She's like a yellow-belliedsiskin, flittering away from the bird net! (He approaches Malania,but she ducks away and he chases her around the stage.) My innocentone, do not fear me&emdash;I'm no fiend!
Ipat: It's true, Malaniushka, we're not dangerous; sentimentallove is as pure as a dove.
Count (grasping her by the arm): Listen, listen to me! I cherishsuch modesty!
Malania: Oh, oh, what are you up to, sir! Oh, oh!
Foka: What? Who's there? Malasha, who are you talking to?
Malania: It's the gentleman, don't you know him …
Foka: Sir, don't be making trouble with our folk.
Count: I am the aegis of innocence and a friend to Nature.
Foka: Yeah, well I don't care if your friend is the chief ofpolice, he shouldn't be tempting our kind.
Ipat (quietly, to Foka): Well said, Foka.
Foka: Surely Foka won't do anything to dishonor himself. (to theCount) Do you know that this is my betrothed?
Count: So you are the fortunate mortal who will cultivate thisviolet? How did you manage it?
Foka: It doesn't matter how I did it; she's going to be mywife.
Count: No! I will snatch her from your predatory arms.
Foka: You? Malasha, get over here! Come on, just you try!
Count: Why was he born into a circle of intolerance? Otherwise Imight have had the honor to die for my Melanie.
Foka: Hey, sir, don't come near me.
Count (to Ipat): He seems to me a very rude fellow.
Ipat: He has such unattractive manners.
Count: How piteous is the fate of this beauty! Venus had such ahusband.1 One word&emdash;daughter of Nature!
Foka: Not one word, not half a word, not a quarter of a word!…
Kuzminishna: All the girls have wandered off. Malashka!Malashka!
Foka: Cry out, but maybe Malashka has fallen into the righthands.
Kuzminishna: What's going on, Fokushka?
Count: Hear me out, good woman! This innocence, is she yourdaughter?
Kuzminishna: I gave birth to her, my benefactor.
Count: And you're giving her to him?
Kuzminishna: Yes, little father.
Count: You're ruining her!
Kuzminishna: What are you saying, my father? I'm ruining one Igave birth to? I'm ruining my own child? What do you mean, perhapsyour kind doesn't take care of its children, but here we do. Come tome, Malasha. What's this gentleman been saying?
Malania: Heaven only knows what he's been squawking about.
Foka: And … don't listen any more.
Kuzminishna: No, good sir, don't get started on telling me that Iwant to ruin her; strike me down with lightening if I would want todo that. I love my children! They're my only wealth, my soletreasure.
Count: Good woman, you touch me!
Kuzminishna: What are you saying, sir, cross yourself! I didn'ttouch you.
Foka: Isn't it a sin to harass an old woman?
Ipat: Ignoramuses never understand properly. To touch doesn't meanthat, to touch means … what does it mean, anyway?
Count: How lamentable, that their sentiments are not refined. Youlive in a circle of ignorance.
Foka: They don't live in a circle but in a mill!
Ipat: Oh ignorance!
Count: Good mother! you have raised this modest, interestingMelanie in the bosom of nature; she's a bud, still not cultivated bythe hand of a master gardener.
Foka: Of course not! I'm not going to give her to any gardener towork over. Now listen, baron, wouldn't it be better for you to justleave us in peace? Let's go, little Mother, it's time to get startedon the betrothal.
Kuzminishna: It really is time. Good-bye, noble master.
Malania: Have a good journey. (she leaves)
Count: Angel! stop, listen to me! … they're taking her away.Ipat, stop them.
Ipat (trying to intervene, but Foka pushes him aside): You can seefor yourself how this ruffian behaves.
Count: No, I won't give her up! (exits)
Kuzminishna: All the girls have wandered off. Malashka!Malashka!
Foka: Cry out, but maybe Malashka has fallen into the righthands.
Kuzminishna: What's going on, Fokushka?
Count: Hear me out, good woman! This innocence, is she yourdaughter?
Kuzminishna: I gave birth to her, my benefactor.
Count: And you're giving her to him?
Kuzminishna: Yes, sire.
Count: You're ruining her!
Kuzminishna: What are you saying, sire? I'm ruining one I gavebirth to? I'm ruining my own child? What do you mean, perhaps yourkind doesn't take care of its children, but here we do. Come to me,Malasha. What's this gentleman been saying?
M: Heaven only knows what he's been squawking about.
Foka: And … don't listen any more.
Kuzminishna: No, good sir, don't get started on telling me that Iwant to ruin her; strike me down with lightning if I would want to dothat. I love my children! They're my only wealth, my soletreasure.
Count: Good woman, you touch me!
Kuzminishna: What are you saying, sir, cross yourself! I didn'ttouch you.
Foka: Isn't it a sin to harass an old woman?
Ipat: Ignoramuses never understand properly. To touch doesn't meanthat, to touch means … maybe that you hit someone?
Count: How lamentable, that their sentiments are not refined. Youlive in a circle of ignorance.
Foka: They don't live in a circle but in a mill!
Ipat: Oh ignorance!
Count: Good mother! you have raised this modest, interestingMelanie in the bosom of nature; she's a bud, still not cultivated bythe hand of a master gardener.
Foka: Of course not! I'm not going to give her to any gardener towork over. Now listen, baron, wouldn't it be better for you to justleave us in peace? Let's go, little mother, it's time to get startedon the betrothal.
Kuzminishna: It really is time. Good-bye, noble master.
Malania: Have a good journey. (she leaves)
Count: Angel! stop, listen to me! … they're taking her away.Ipat, stop them!
Ipat (trying to intervene, but Foka pushes him aside): You can seefor yourself how this ruffian behaves.
Count: No, I won't give her up! (exits)
Ipat: It's clear that my master has gone crazy. It's too bad,because he has such a good heart. Weeping authors, tearful writers!you, you have destroyed my good master; you will have to answer forthis, for those little books I brought to him from the universitybookshops; they've done in my poor Count.
Sudbin: He left?
Ipat: He followed the interesting Melanie into the village. Ha,ha, ha, what are you all dressed up for?
Sudbin: Don't I resemble Arkhipych?
Ipat: Oh, sir, you're the most Arkhipych of all theArkhipyches!
Sudbin: Are you certain that your master won't recognize me?
Ipat: Not only you, but he wouldn't know his own father. Histhoughts, gaze, feelings are always far far away, in a distantkingdom. Like I just said: it's a pity that friends and writers drovesuch a good man out of his mind. Explain to me, sir, from where didthat sentimental deviltry come to us?
Sudbin: It took shape in England, deteriorated in France, gotinflated in Germany, and by the time it got to us it was in such apitiful state that …
Ipat: That even the gods laugh! The pity is for those who weretaken in by it.
Sudbin: There are such lights that ruin everyone and everythingthey shine on. The most insane practices often have roots inworthwhile institutions. What can be splendid in one regiment doesn'twork out at all when it goes around the whole division. Ha, ha, ha!Yes, I guess my division and I helped to drive your Count crazy;everyone has an element of insanity.
Ipat (to the side): He's right that we all have some absurdity inour heads. I, for example, want to be so bewitched by a gypsy dancethat you'll have to hide the icons when I start it.1
Sudbin: I don't want your master to stay where he is; doeverything I've ordered you to … He's coming! …
Count (seeing Sudbin): Who's that old man?
Ipat: That bear is the father of the interesting Melanie.
Count: What a distinguished visage!
Sudbin: Is that you, baron, sir Count? I don't know your name.
Ipat: This is his excellency.
Count: So, honorable elder, you see before you a young pilgrim,who blesses your gray hair. What can I do to serve you?
Sudbin: You can go to your dear father or mother, if you haveone.
Count: Oh, elder, adorned with gray hair! I have undertaken, ashave many sensitive people, to travel all over Russia and beyond!
Sudbin: Astounding, sir, and I thank you! You want to know all ofHoly Russia; you, the son of a distinguished nobleman, serve the tsarand state thus, and why shouldn't you have rank1: a governor, aviceroy, or something else. And that's why you travel all around thisland, to find out where the factories are, what grows where, wherethere's much land but few hands, where's there's little land but manyhands, where the peasants are wealthy and where they are poor, whatcan be done to improve their way of life, what spawns evil, how to dogood …
Ipat: Ha, ha, ha, way of life, workers, land, ha, ha, ha!
Sudbin: Why are you laughing?
Ipat: Ha, ha, ha, what nonsense! Did you see what he came with?The master a governor or a viceroy. Don't you know we scorn theranks?
Sudbin: Oh, really? why? Don't you know that to bestow a rankgives a person more honor?
Ipat: We laugh at this honor.
Sudbin: Pay attention, please. For someone who has a rank, it iseasier to achieve glory, to do good. Why is he a member of thenobility if he is not serving the tsar and the state? God createdevery person for something: our brother peasants to till the land,the lords to be our intercessors before tsar and the law.
Ipat: So what? Let anyone be our intercessor who wants to, but mylord and I are traveling the world enraptured.
Sudbin: Do you really think you should permit yourself this?
Count: Distinguished elder! I … (to the side) How can Ianswer him? It's strange, how this unenlightened villager can upsetme so.
Sudbin (to the side): My words are working! Ah, baron?
Count: I marvel at how for someone born into a circle ofhopelessness, you speak with such conviction, as no one from thevillage has ever spoken to a single voyager. You philosophize withelegance.
Sudbin: I don't understand you, baron.
Count: It's such a pity that he has not read the sentimentalvoyagers and therefore cannot comprehend me. My friend! I scornfluffy titles and nourish my soul …
Sudbin: With what do you feed it?
Count: With simplicity, clarity, and pure Nature. Ah, if only youhad read everything that I have, you would understand me.
Sudbin: I doubt it.
Ipat: Education is light and illiteracy darkness, old man.
Sudbin: Is it also written in his books how to take a bride awayfrom her fiancé?
Ipat: What sort of fiancé? You mean the blacksmith?
Sudbin: And what kind of bridegroom do you think she needs? Themaster shouldn't be taking a peasant girl.
Count: And why not?
Sudbin: And where is it that our daughters can become ladies: thelords will ridicule them, and the peasant men will banish them fromtheir world. The husband, seeing that his mother and father haveabandoned him, will no longer love the wife who drove away hisfamily. I know from my own father's heart what happens when childrendon't behave properly, and what happens when children don't haveparental blessing. You sigh, baron. I can see that you have a son'sheart.
Count: Distinguished elder, you are rending my soul!
Sudbin: And sir, you are teasing me! Why would I rend your soul?Ah, I hear our girls singing. We have a custom in our village: thebride-to-be strolls with all her friends. They take my Malania to theoverseer; he is the one who will give her away. I must go to her.Good-bye, baron. (to the side) My words are influencing him. He'sstarting to deliberate. One more attack&emdash;and then the city ismine!
Ipat: Oh, what a siege he laid! words fail me!
Count: Interesting Melanie! touching miller! Oh, a talisman! Oh,women!
Ipat: That old man was quite a chatterbox.
Count: And so, my lot is cast: I will become a farmer, I will takethe daughter of that distinguished elder as my beloved friend andtogether we will settle in a small hut. There, when the sun isrising, I will awaken the dear one, in whose arms I am reposing; withher I will work our little corner of land or tend the sheep.
Ipat (to the side): Not very intellectually stimulating work.
Count: There the fruits of the earth and milk will be my food.
Ipat (to the side): An unenviable table.
Count: A soft straw mattress.
Ipat (to the side): Not an exceptional bed.
Count: Cicero, Sterne, and Young will occupy me; I will read LaNouvelle Heloise.
Ipat (to the side): And your gentle spouse will yawn, or feed thepigs out of boredom.
Count: Ipat, I will be so happy!
Ipat: Better to say that we will both be happy.
Count: What do you mean?
Ipat: Your excellency is marrying Melanie, and I her sister,Domna.
Count: That means you'll be …
Ipat: The brother-in-law of my good master.
Count: How dare you?
Ipat: Why are you getting angry? I, sir, have a heart. I likeDomna, I will marry her, and will build a hut more modest than yours;I'll drive the sheep, eat bread and milk, sleep on the straw, and onSundays will read Bova Korolevich and Vanka Kain; I'll enrich youwith many nephews, my children; you'll be their godfather …
Count: This is too much … You, you're mocking me, aren't you?Impertinent fellow!
Count: Why are you so irate, my future brother-in-law?
Count: I'll teach you a lesson! But maybe this is true. Eventhough Ipat's a drunk he can be Domna's husband; that would make mehis relative! Oh, but we must scorn prejudices! Still, my father… I will touch him with my tears; he will see Melanie andforgive his captured angel!
The village girls have surrounded Malania and are singing; Fokaleads her by one hand, Kuzminishna by the other; Sudbin is in thebackground, leading the other daughter. [In some stagings, thisscene expanded into a much longer ballet.]
Count: They lead her! Ipat, my friend, everything is decided,inhuman ones! Cease!
Foka: Don't listen to him, he's crazy.
Everyone: Insane! Be careful that he doesn't bite …
Count: Distinguished elder, listen to this unhappy soul!Kuzminishna, cease! Melanie, look at me!
Sudbin: Stop. We must hear him out.
Malania: Don't let him get too close to you, Mother.
Kuzminishna: Our place is blessed, what's to fear?
Count: You must know who I am; I am Count Pronsky, the son of acelebrated general.
Ipat (to Foka): Know who we are!
Count: My heart longs for happiness, not that which comes frombeing highborn, but from true love, sentimental friendship, etherealbliss. Interesting Melanie has touched my heart, her father has seenmy mind, and I want to belong to them forever.
Ipat: Me too. Domna is in my heart.
Kuzminishna: So they really want to marry my daughters.
Foka: Aren't I the bridegroom?
Sudbin: Master and servant, I do not approve of either of you; youcannot bring happiness to my daughters. Baron, you have a father;what will he say when he learns that you have married a peasantgirl?
Count (falling to his knees): My father will approve myselection.
Ipat (also on his knees): My mother will bless me!
Count: Even though he's a prominent person, he's still afather!
Ipat: Even though she's a fine laundress, she's still amother!
Count (to Ipat): Why don't you keep your mouth shut?
Ipat: My heart is doing the talking.
Count (to Sudbin): Distinguished elder, I will make not only yourdaughter happy, but your whole family; I will be a dutiful son; Iwill spend every minute of my life trying to satisfy you, being withyou.
Sudbin (taking off his kaftan, beard, and wig): Who can promise tobe faithful to his wife's father when he has abandoned his own? Getup, Count, I am ashamed of you.
Count (jumping up): It's he!
Ipat: So it would seem.
Count: My God!
Sudbin: Embrace your friend, who loves you like a son.
Foka: What a puzzle!
Kuzminishna: Pay attention, it's a lesson!
Sudbin: Today you must open your eyes: You have been insulted bythis peasant girl, scorned by the others, and Ipat has almost becomea relative. You must understand how the imagination of a sensitiveperson, when impassioned by idiosyncratic writers, can bring abouthis downfall. A young man born with burning emotions, a kind heart,an ardent soul, after having read these authors who, despite theirfraudulent ideas nevertheless write quite eloquently, can be misledfor a moment. But at the first light of reason he must return to thecorrect path.
Count: I am ashamed to look at you.
Sudbin: Your father is anxiously awaiting you.
Count: Oh, what I've done!
Sudbin: The father, at the sight of his son, will forgeteverything but the satisfaction of embracing him. Let's go.
Foka: Does this mean he doesn't want to get married any more?
Ipat: You can marry both sisters if you'd like.
Kuzminishna: Hey, fella, what trouble are you provoking? Inever!
Sudbin: Good-bye, good people! Count, we will laugh at today'sadventure.
Kuzminishna: Stay, father, to observe our holiday.
Sudbin: We will remain, Count, to share their happiness. They havedone us a great favor today.
Count: Yes! They opened my eyes, blinded by seductive imagination.I swear to reform, and to evade all sentimental curiosities, whichmake us ridiculous and useless for practical work.
Ipat: No more weeping! Farewell to rivers, mountains, forests,sighs, and raptures: we, the ungrateful ones, forsake youforever.
1 Women often took over their husbands' jobs after being widowed,as has Kuzminishna.
1 Jean-Jacques Rousseau's La Nouvelle Heloise was one of the mostpopular of the sentimental novels.
2 Echo was the unrequited lover of Narcissus.
1 Melanie was one of sentimentalism's early tragedies, written byJean-Francois LaHarpe in 1770.
1 Balakir in Russian means "pot."
1 Venus's husband was the god Vulcan, whose realm included ironworks, in this case, smithies.
1 Most Russian homes had a corner set aside for an icon shrine.Since it was thought to represent the figure it depicted, an icon'seyes were covered from any unseemly sight.
1 Sudbin here refers to the Table of Ranks created by Peter theGreat in 1722; Peter ordered that all non-peasant males provide stateservice, and received ranks according to their positions, civil andmiliatry.