TONY _(gloomily)_
He isn’t telling the truth. There are no devils either. The devil couldn’t have hung up his picture if there’s no devil. It’s impossible. He had better ask me.
SAVVA
All right, we’ll speak about that later. Send us whiskey.
TONY _(goes)_
I won’t send you any whiskey either.
SAVVA
What a stupid fellow! I tell you what, father. You go out into the garden through that door. I’ll be, with you in a moment. Don’t lose yourself. _(He goes out after Tony)_
KONDRATY
Good-bye, Miss Olympiada.
_[Lipa doesn’t answer. When Kondraty has left, she walks around the room a few times, agitated, waiting for Savva._
SAVVA _(entering)_
Well, what a fool!
LIPA _(barring his way)_
I know why you came here. I know! Don’t you dare!
SAVVA
What’s that?
LIPA
When I heard you talk, I thought it was just words, but now–Come to your senses! Think! You’ve gone crazy. What do you mean to do?
SAVVA
Let me go.
LIPA
I listened to you and laughed! Good Lord! I feel as if I had awakened from a terrible dream. Or is it all a dream? What was the monk here for? What for?
SAVVA
Now that will do. You have had your say; that’s enough. Let me go.
LIPA
Don’t you see you have gone crazy? Do you understand? You are out of your mind.
SAVVA
I’m sick of hearing you repeat that. Let’s go.
LIPA
Savva; dear, darling Savva–No? Very well, you won’t listen to me? Very well. You’ll see, Savva, you’ll see. You ought to have your hands and feet tied. And you _will_ be bound, too. There are people who will do it. Oh, God! What does this mean? Stay! Stay! Savva!
SAVVA _(going)_
All right, all right.
LIPA _(shouting)_
I’ll denounce you. Murderer! Ruffian! I’ll denounce you.
SAVVA _(turning round)_
Oho! You had better be more careful. _(Puts his hand on her shoulder and looks into her eyes)_ You had better be more careful, I say.
LIPA
You–_(For about three seconds there is a struggle between the two pairs of eyes, after which Lipa turns aside, biting her lips)_ I am not afraid of you.
SAVVA
That’s better. But don’t shout. One should never shout. _(Exit)_
LIPA _(alone)_
What does this mean? What am I to do? _(The hens cluck)_
YEGOR TROPININ _(in the door)_
What’s the matter? What’s the row here–hey? I was gone just half an hour, and everything has gone topsy-turvy. Lipa, why did you let the chickens get into the raspberry bushes? Go and drive ’em away, damn you! I am talking to you–yes, to you! Go, or I’ll go you, I’ll go you, I’ll–
CURTAIN
THE SECOND ACT
_Within the enclosure of the monastery. In the rear, at the left, appear the monastery buildings, the refectory, monks’ cells, parts of the church and the steeple, all connected by passageways with arched gates. Board-walks run in different directions in the court. At the right the corner of the steeple wall is seen slightly jutting out. Nestling against it is a small monastic cemetery surrounded by a light, grilled iron fence. Marble monuments and slabs of stone and iron are sunk deep into the earth. All are old and twisted. It is a long time since anyone was buried there. The cemetery contains also some wild rose-bushes and two or three rather small trees.
It is evening, after vespers. Long shadows are falling from the tower and the walls. The monastery and the steeple are bathed in the reddish light of the setting sun. Monks, novices and pilgrims pass along the board-walks. In the beginning of the act may be heard behind the scenes the driving of a village herd, the cracking of a herdsman’s whip, the bleating of sheep, the lowing of cattle, and dull cries. Toward the end of the act it grows much darker, and the movement in the yard ceases almost entirely.
Savva, Speransky, and the Young Friar are seated on a bench by the iron fence. Speransky is holding his hat on his knees, and now and then he strokes his long, straight hair, which is hanging in two mournful strands over his long, pale face. He holds his legs together speaks in a low, sad tone, and gesticulates with extended forefinger. The Friar, young, round-faced, and vigorous, pays no attention to the conversation, but is smiling continually, as if at his own thoughts._
SAVVA _(preoccupied, looking aside)_
Yes. What kind of work do you do here?
SPERANSKY
None at all, Mr. Savva. How can a man in my condition do any work? Once a man begins to doubt his own existence, the obligation to work naturally ceases to exist for him. But the deacon’s wife does not understand it. She is a very stupid woman, utterly lacking in education, and, moreover, of an unlovely, cruel disposition. She insists on making me work. But you can imagine the sort of work I do under the circumstances. You see, the situation is this. I have a splendid appetite. That appetite began to develop while I was yet a student in the seminary. Now this deaconess, if you please, makes a fuss about every piece of bread I eat. She doesn’t understand, the ignorant woman, the possibility of the non-existence of this piece of bread. If I had a real existence like the rest of you, I should feel very bad, but in my present condition her attacks don’t affect me in the least. Nothing affects me, Mr. Savva, nothing in the wide world.
SAVVA _(smiling at the Friar’s unconscious joy, but still preoccupied)_ How long have you been in this condition?
SPERANSKY
It began in the seminary while I was studying philosophy. It is a dreadful condition, Mr. Savva. I have grown somewhat accustomed to it now, but at first it was unendurable. I tried to hang myself once, and they cut me down. Then I tried a second time, and they cut me down again. Then they turned me out of the seminary. “Go hang yourself in some other place, you madman,” they said. As if there were any other place! As if all places were not the same!
THE FRIAR
Mr. Savva, let’s go fishing to-morrow at the mill.
SAVVA
I don’t like fishing. It bores me.
FRIAR
I’m sorry. Well then, let’s go into the woods and knock down the dry branches of trees. It’s fine sport to walk about in the forest and knock off the branches with a stick. And when you shout “Ho-ho-ho!” the echo from the ravine answers back “Ho-ho-ho!” Do you like swimming?
SAVVA
Yes, I like it. I am a good swimmer.
FRIAR
I like it too.
SPERANSKY _(with a deep sigh)_
Yes, it’s a strange condition.
SAVVA _(smiling at the Friar)_
Eh? Well, how are you now?
SPERANSKY
When my uncle took me to his house, he made me promise I would never attempt suicide again. That was the only condition oh which he would consent to let me live with him. “All right,” I said; “if we really exist, then I won’t make any further attempt to hang myself.”
SAVVA
Why do you want to know whether you exist or not? There is the sky. Look, how beautiful it is. There are the swallows and the sweet-scented grass. It’s fine! _(To the Friar)_ Fine, isn’t it, Vassya?
FRIAR
Mr. Savva, do you like to tear up ant-hills?
SAVVA
I don’t know. I never tried.
FRIAR
I like it. Do you like to fly kites?
SAVVA
It’s a long time since I tried to. I used to like it very much.
SPERANSKY _(patiently awaiting the end of their conversation)_
Swallows! What good is their flying to me? Anyhow, maybe swallows don’t exist either, and it’s all a dream.
SAVVA
Suppose it is a dream. Dreams are very beautiful sometimes, you know.
SPERANSKY
I should like to wake up, but I can’t. I wander around and wander around until I am weary and feeble, and when I rouse myself I find I am here, in the very same place. There is the monastery and the belfry, and the clock strikes the hour. And it’s all like a dream, a fantasy. You close your eyes, and it does not exist. You open them, and it’s there again. Sometimes I go out into the fields at night and close my eyes, and then it seems to me there is nothing at all existing. Suddenly the quail begin to call, and a wagon rolls down the road. Again a dream. For if you stopped up your ears, you wouldn’t hear those sounds. When I die, everything will grow silent, and then it will be true. Only the dead know the truth, Mr. Savva.
FRIAR _(smiling, cautiously waving his hands at a bird; in a whisper)_ It’s time to go to bed, time to go to bed.
SAVVA _(impatiently)_
What dead? Listen, my dear sir. I have a plain, simple, peasant mind, and I don’t understand those subtleties. What dead are you talking about?
SPERANSKY
About all the dead, every one without exception. That’s why the faces of the dead are so serene. Whatever agonies a man may have suffered before his death, the moment he dies his face becomes serene. That’s because he has learned the truth. I always come here to attend the funerals. It’s astonishing. There was a woman buried here. She had died of grief because her husband was crushed under a locomotive. You can imagine what must have been going on in her mind before her death. It’s too horrible to think of. Yet she lay there, in the coffin, absolutely serene and calm. That’s because she had come to know that her grief was nothing but a dream, a mere phantom. I like the dead, Mr. Savva. I think the dead really exist.
SAVVA
I don’t like the dead. _(Impatiently)_ You are a very disagreeable fellow. Has anybody ever told you that?
SPERANSKY
Yes, I have, heard it before.
SAVVA
I would never have taken you out of the noose. What damn fool did it anyway?
SPERANSKY
The first time it was the Father Steward, the next time my classmates. I am very sorry you disapprove of me, Mr. Tropinin. As you are an educated man, I should have liked to show you a bit of writing I did while I was in the seminary. It’s called “The Tramp of Death.” It’s a sort of story.
SAVVA
No, spare me, please. Altogether I wish you’d–
FRIAR. _(rising)_
There comes Father Kirill. I had better beat it.
SAVVA
Why?
FRIAR
He came across me in the forest the other day when I was-shouting “Ho! Ho!” “Ah,” said he, “you forest sprite with goat’s feet!” To-morrow after dinner, all right? _(Walks away, sedately at first, but then with a sort of dancing step)_
FAT MONK _(approaches)_
Well, young men, having a pleasant chat? Are you Mr. Tropinin’s son?
SAVVA
I am the man.
FAT MONK
I have heard about you. A decent, respectable gentleman your father is. May I sit down? _(He sits down)_ The sun has set, yet it’s still hot. I wonder if we’ll have a storm to-night. Well, young man, how do you like it here? How does this place compare with the metropolis?
SAVVA
It’s a rich monastery.
FAT MONK
Yes, thank the Lord. It’s celebrated all over Russia. There are many who come here even from Siberia. Its fame reaches far. There’ll soon be a feast-day, and–
SPERANSKY
You’ll work yourself sick, father. Services day and night.
FAT MONK
Yes, we must do our best for the monastery.
SAVVA
Not for the people?
FAT MONK
Yes, for the people too. For whom else? Last year a large number of epileptics were cured; quite a lot of them. One blind man had his eyesight restored, and two paralytics were made to walk. You’ll see for yourself, young man, and then you won’t smile. I have heard that you are an unbeliever.
SAVVA
You have heard correctly. I am an unbeliever.
FAT MONK
It’s a shame, a shame. Of course, there are many unbelievers nowadays among the educated classes. But are they any happier on that account? I doubt it.
SAVVA
No, there are not so many. They think they are unbelievers because they don’t go to church. As a matter of fact, they have greater faith than you. It’s more deep-seated.
FAT MONK
Is that so?
SAVVA
Yes, yes. The form of their faith is, of course, more refined. They are cultured, you see.
FAT MONK
Of course, of course. People feel better, feel more confident and secure, if they believe.
SAVVA
They say the devil is choking the monks here every night.
FAT MONK _(laughing)_
Nonsense. _(To the Gray Monk passing by)_ Father Vissarion, come here a moment. Sit down. Mr. Tropinin’s son here says the devil chokes us every night. Have you heard about it? _(The two monks laugh good-naturedly as they look at each other)_
GRAY MONK
Some of the monks can’t sleep well because they have overeaten, so they think they are being choked. Why, young man, the devil can’t enter within our sacred precincts.
SAVVA
But suppose he does suddenly put in an appearance? What will, you do then?
FAT MONK
We’ll get after him with the holy-water sprinkler, that’s what we’ll do. “Don’t butt in where you have no business to, you black-faced booby!” _(The monk laughs)_
GRAY MONK
Here comes King Herod.
FAT MONK
Wait a while, Father Vissarion. _(To Savva)_ You talk about faith and such things. There’s a man for you–look at him–see how he walks. And yet he has chains on him weighing four hundred pounds. He doesn’t walk, he dances. He visits us every summer, and I must say he is a very valuable guest. His example strengthens others in their faith. Herod! Ho, Herod!
KING HEROD
What do you want?
FAT MONK
Come here a minute. This gentleman doubts the existence of God. Talk to him.
KING HEROD
What’s the matter with yourself? Are you so full of booze that you can’t wag your own tongue?
FAT MONK
You heretic! What a heretic! _(Both monks laugh)_
KING HEROD _(approaching)_
What gentleman?
FAT MONK
This one.
KING HEROD _(scrutinizing him)_
He doubts? Let him doubt. It’s none of my business.
SAVVA
Oh!
KING HEROD
Why, what did you think?
FAT MONK
Sit down, please.
KING HEROD
Never mind. I’d rather stand.
FAT MONK _(to Savva, in a loud whisper)_
He is doing that to wear himself out. Until he has reduced himself to absolute faintness he’ll neither sleep nor eat. _(Aloud)_ This gentleman is wondering at the kind of chains you have on your body.
KING HEROD
Chains? Just baby rattles. Put them on a horse and he too would carry them if he had the strength. I have a sad heart. _(Looks at Savva)_ You know, I killed my own son. Yes, I did. Have they been telling you about me, these chatterboxes?
SAVVA
They have.
KING HEROD
Can you understand it?
SAVVA
Why not? Yes, I can.
KING HEROD
You lie–you can’t. No one can understand it. Go through the whole world, search round the whole globe, ask everybody–no one will be able to tell you, no one will understand. And if anyone says he does, take it from me that he lies, lies just as you do. Why, you can’t even see your own nose properly, yet you have the brazenness to say you understand. Go. You are a foolish boy, that’s what you are.
SAVVA
And you are wise?
KING HEROD
I am wise. My sorrow has made me so. It is a great sorrow. There is none greater on earth. I killed my son with my own hand. Not the hand you are looking at, but the one which isn’t here.
SAVVA
Where is it?
KING HEROD
I burnt it. I held it in the stove and let it burn up to my elbow.
SAVVA
Did that relieve you?
KING HEROD
No. Fire cannot destroy my grief. It burns with a heat that is greater than fire.
SAVVA
Fire, brother, destroys everything.
KING HEROD
No, young man, fire is weak. Spit on it and it is quenched.
SAVVA
What fire? It is possible to kindle such a conflagration that an ocean of water will not quench it.
KING HEROD
No, boy. Every fire goes out when its time comes. My grief is great, so great that when I look around me I say to myself: Good heavens, what has become of everything else that’s large and great? Where has it all gone to? The forest is small, the house is small, the mountain is small, the whole earth is small, a mere poppy seed. You have to walk cautiously and look out, lest you reach the end and drop off.
FAT MONK _(pleased)_
Fine, King Herod, you are going it strong.
KING HEROD
Even the sun does not rise for me. For others it rises, but for me it doesn’t. Others don’t see the darkness by day, but I see it. It penetrates the light like dust. At first I seem to see a sort of light, but then–good heavens, the sky is dark, the earth is dark, all is like soot. Yonder is something vague and misty. I can’t even make out what it is. Is it a human being, is it a bush? My grief is great, immense! _(Grows pensive)_ If I cried, who would hear me? If I shouted, who would respond?
FAT MONK _(to the Gray Monk)_
The dogs in the village might.
KING HEROD _(shaking his head)_
O you people! You are looking at me as at a monstrosity–at my hair, my chains–because I killed my son and because I am like King Herod; but my soul you see not, and my grief you know not. You are as blind as earthworms. You wouldn’t know if you were struck with a beam on the head. Say, you pot-belly, what are you shaking your paunch, for?
SAVVA
Why–the way he talks to you!
FAT MONK _(reassuringly)_
It’s nothing. He treats us all like that. He upbraids us all.
KING HEROD
Yes, and I will continue to upbraid. Fellows like you are not fit to serve God. What you ought to do is to sit in a drinkshop amusing Satan. The devils use your belly to go sleigh-riding on at night.
FAT MONK _(good-naturedly)_
Well, well, God be with you. You had better speak about yourself; stick to that.
KING HEROD _(to Savva)_
You see? He wants to feast on my agony. Go ahead, feast all you want.
GRAY MONK
My, what a scold you are. Where do you get your vocabulary? He once told the Father Superior that if God were not immortal he, the Father Superior, would long ago have sold him piece by piece. But we tolerate him. He can do no harm in a monastery.
FAT MONK
He attracts people. Many come here for his sake. And what difference does it make to us? God sees our purity. Isn’t that so, King Herod?
KING HEROD
Oh, shut up, you old dotard. Look at him; he can scarcely move his legs, old Harry with the evil eye. Keeps three women in the village; one is not enough for him. _(The monks laugh good-naturedly)_ You see, you see? Whew! Look at their brazen, shameless eyes! Might as well spit on them!
SAVVA
Why do you come here?
KING HEROD
Not for them. Listen, young man. Have you a grief?
SAVVA
Perhaps I have. Why?
KING HEROD
Then listen to me. When you are in sorrow, when you are suffering, don’t go to people. If you have a friend, don’t go to him. It’s more than you’ll be able to stand. Better go to the wolves in the forest. They’ll make short work of it, devour you at once, and there will be the end of it. I have seen many evil things, but I have never seen anything worse than man. No, never! They say men are created in His image, in His likeness. Why, you skunks, you have no image. If you had one, the tiniest excuse for one, you would crawl away on all fours and hide somewhere from sheer shame. You damned skunks! Laugh at them, cry before them, shout, at them. It doesn’t make any difference. They go on licking their chops. King Herod–Damned skunks! And when King Herod–not I, but the real one with a golden crown–killed your children, where were you–hey?
FAT MONK
We weren’t even in the world then, man.
KING HEROD
Then there were others like you. He killed. You accepted it. That’s all. I have asked many the question: “What would you have done?” “Nothing,” they always reply. “If he killed, what could be done about it?” Fine creatures! Haven’t the manliness to stand up even for their children. They are worse than dogs, damn them!
FAT MONK
And what would you have done?
KING HEROD
I? I should have wrung his neck from off his royal gold crown–the confounded brute!
GRAY MONK
It says in the scripture: “Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”
FAT MONK
That is to say, don’t interfere with other people’s business. Do you understand?
KING HEROD _(to Savva in despair)_
Just listen, listen to what they are saying.
SAVVA
I hear what they are saying.
KING HEROD
Just you wait, my precious! You’ll get what’s coming to you, and mighty quick. The devil will come and hurl you into the fiery pit. To hell, to gehenna, with you! How your fat will melt and run! Do you get the smell, monk?
FAT MONK
That’s from the refectory.
KING HEROD
You are on the run, fast as your feet can carry you! Ah! but where to? Everywhere is hell, everywhere is fire. You refused to hearken unto me, my pet; now you shall hearken unto the fire. Won’t I be glad, won’t I rejoice! I’ll take off my chains so that I can catch them and present them to the devil–first one, then the other. Here, take him. And the howl they’ll set up, and the weeping and lamentation. “I am not guilty.” Not guilty? Who, then, is–who? To gehenna with you! Burn, you damned hypocrites, until the second Advent. And then we’ll build a new fire, then we’ll build a new fire.
GRAY MONK
Isn’t it time for us to go, Father Kirill?
FAT MONK
Yes, we had better be moving along. It’s getting dark, and it’s time to retire.
KING HEROD
Aha! You don’t like to hear the truth. It isn’t pleasant, is it?
FAT MONK
Hee-hee, brother, talk is cheap. A barking dog doesn’t bite. Scold away, scold away. We are listening. God in heaven will decide who is to go to hell and who elsewhere. “The meek, shall inherit the earth,” says the Gospel. Good-bye, young gentlemen.
GRAY MONK _(to King Herod)_
Let me give you a piece of advice, however. Talk, but don’t talk too much. Don’t go too far. We are only tolerating you because you are a pitiful creature and because you are foolish. But if you give your tongue too free a rein, we can stop it, you know. Yes, indeed.
KING HEROD
All right, try–try to stop me.
FAT MONK
What’s the use, Father Vissarion? Let him talk. It doesn’t do any harm. Listen, listen, young gentlemen. He is an interesting fellow. Good night.
_[They go. The Fat Monk is heard laughing heartily._
KING HEROD _(to Savva)_
Fine specimens. I can’t stand them.
SAVVA
I like you, uncle.
KING HEROD
Do you? So you don’t like their kind either?
SAVVA
No, I don’t.
KING HEROD
Well, I’ll sit down for a while. My legs are swollen. Have you got a cigarette?
SAVVA _(handing him a cigarette)_
Do you smoke?
KING HEROD
Sometimes. Excuse me for having talked to you the way I did before. You are a good fellow. But why did you lie and say you understood? No one can understand it. Who is this with you?
SAVVA
Oh, he just happened along.
KING HEROD
Well, brother, feeling bad, down in the mouth?
SPERANSKY
Yes, I feel blue.
KING HEROD
Keep still, keep still, I don’t want to listen. You are suffering? Keep still. I am a man too, brother, so I don’t understand. I’ll insult you if you don’t look out. _(Throws away the cigarette)_ No, I can’t. As long as I keep standing or walking I manage somehow. The moment I sit down, it’s hell. Oh! Ow-w! _(Writhing in agony)_ I simply can’t catch my breath. Oh, God, do you see my torture? Eh? Well, well, it’s nothing. It’s gone. Oh! Ow-w!
_[The sky has become overcast with clouds. It turns dark quickly. Now and then there are flashes of lightning._
SAVVA _(quietly)_
One must try to stifle one’s grief, old man. Fight it. Say to yourself firmly and resolutely: “I don’t want it.” And it will cease to be. You seem to be a good, strong man.
KING HEROD
No, friend, my grief is such that even death won’t remove it. What is death? It is little, insignificant, and my grief is great. No, death won’t end my grief. There was Cain. Even when he died, his sorrow remained.
SPERANSKY
The dead do not grieve. They are serene. They know the truth.
KING HEROD
But they don’t tell it to anybody. What’s the good of such truth? Here am I alive, and yet I know the truth. Here am I with my sorrow. You see what it is–there is no greater on earth. And yet if God spoke to me and said, “Yeremey, I will give you the whole earth if you give me your grief,” I wouldn’t give it away. I will not give it away, friend. It is sweeter to me than honey; it is stronger than the strongest drink. Through it I have learned the truth.
SAVVA
God?
KING HEROD
Christ–that’s the one! He alone can understand the sorrow that is in me. He sees and understands. “Yes, Yeremey, I see how you suffer.” That’s all. “I see.” And I answer Him: “Yes, O Lord, behold my sorrow!” That’s all. No more is necessary.
SAVVA
What you value in Christ is His suffering for the people, is that it?
KING HEROD
You mean his crucifixion? No, brother, that suffering was a trifle. They crucified Him–what did that matter? The important point was that thereby He came to know the truth. As long as He walked the earth, He was–well–a man, rather a good man–talking here and there about this and that. When He met someone, He would talk to him about this and that, teach him, and tell him a few good things to put him on the right track. But when these same fellows carried Him off to the cross and went at Him with knouts, whips, and lashes, then His eyes were opened. “Aha!” He said, “so that’s what it is!” And He prayed: “I cannot endure such suffering. I thought it would be a simple crucifixion; but, O Father in Heaven, what is this?” And the Father said to Him: “Never mind, never mind, Son! Know the truth, know what it is.” And from then on, He fell to sorrowing, and has been sorrowing to this day.
SAVVA
Sorrowing?
KING HEROD
Yes, friend, he is sorrowing. _(Pause. Lightning)_
SPERANSKY
It looks like rain, and I am without rubbers and umbrella.
KING HEROD
And everywhere, wheresoever I go, wheresoever I turn, I see before me His pure visage. “Do you understand my suffering, O Lord?” “I understand, Yeremey, I understand everything. Go your way in peace.” I am to Him like a transparent crystal with a tear inside. “You understand, Lord?” “I understand, Yeremey.” “Well, and I understand you too.” So we live together. He with me, I with Him. I am sorry for Him also. When I die, I will transmit my sorrow to Him. “Take it, Lord.”
SAVVA
But after all, you are not quite right in running down the people the way you do. There are some good men also–very few–but there are some. Otherwise it wouldn’t be of any use to live.
KING HEROD
No, friend, there are none. I don’t want to fool you–there are none. You know, it was they who christened me with the name of King Herod.
SAVVA
Who?
KING HEROD
Why, your people. There is no beast more cruel than man. I killed my boy, so I am King Herod to them. Damn them, it never enters their minds how terrible it is for me to be burdened with such a nick-name. Herod! If they only called me so out of spite! But not at all.
SAVVA
What is your real name?
KING HEROD
Yeremey. That’s my name–Yeremey. But they call me Herod, carefully adding King, so that there may be no mistake. Look, there comes another monk, a plague on him. Say, did you ever see His countenance?
SAVVA
I did.
KING HEROD
And did you see His eyes? No? Then look, try to see them–Where is he off to, the bat? To the village to his women.
KONDRATY _(enters)_
Peace be with you, honest folks. Good evening, Savva. To what lucky chance do I owe this meeting?
KING HEROD
Look, monk, the devil’s tail is sticking out of your pocket.
KONDRATY
It isn’t the devil’s tail, it’s a radish. You’re very clever, but you didn’t hit it right that time.
KING HEROD _(spitting in disgust)_
I can’t bear to look at them. They turn my stomach. Good-bye, friend. Remember what I told you. When you are in sorrow, don’t go to people.
SAVVA
All right, uncle, I understand.
KING HEROD
Rather go to the forest to the wolves. _(Goes out; his voice is heard out of the darkness)_ Oh, Lord, do you see?
KONDRATY
A narrow-minded fool. Killed his son and puts on airs. You can’t get by him. He won’t let you alone. It’s something to be proud of, isn’t it, to have killed one’s own son? A great thing.
SPERANSKY _(with a sigh)_
No, Father Kondraty, you are mistaken. He is a happy man. If his son were brought to life this moment, he would instantly kill him. He wouldn’t give him five minutes to live. But of course when he dies, he’ll know the truth.
KONDRATY
That’s what I said, you fool. If it were a cat he killed, he might have some reason to be proud–but his own son! What are you thinking about, Savva Yegorovich?
SAVVA
I am waiting. I should like to know how soon this gentleman will go. The devil brought him, I think. Now, here comes someone else. _(Peers into the darkness)_
LIPA _(approaching. She stops and hesitates)_
Is that you, Savva?
SAVVA
Yes, and is that you? What do you want? I don’t like people to follow me everywhere I go, sister.
LIPA
The gate to this place is open. Everybody has a right to come in. Mr. Speransky, Tony has been asking for you. He wants the seminarist, he says.
SAVVA
There, go together–a jolly pair. Good-bye, sir, good-bye.
SPERANSKY
Good-bye. I hope I’ll see you soon again, Mr. Savva, and have another talk.
SAVVA
No, don’t try, please. Abandon the hope. Good-bye.
LIPA
How rude you are, Savva. Come, Mr. Speransky. They have business of their own to attend to.
SPERANSKY
Still I haven’t given up hope. Good-bye. _(Goes out)_
SAVVA
Just grabbed me and stuck–the devil take him!
KONDRATY _(laughing)_
Yes, he is a sticker from the word go. If he likes you, you can’t shake him off. He’ll follow you everywhere. We call him the “shadow”–partly, I suppose, because he is so thin. He has taken a fancy to you, so you’ll have a time of it. He’ll stick to you like a leech.
SAVVA
I am not in the habit of wasting a lot of words. I’ll give him the slip without much ceremony.
KONDRATY
They have, even tried beating him, but it doesn’t do any good. He is known here for miles around. He is a character.
_[A pause. Lightning. Every now and then is heard the roll of distant thunder._
SAVVA
Why did you tell me to meet you here in this public place where everyone may come? They fell on me like a swarm of fleas–monks and all sorts of imbeciles. I’d rather have spoken to you in the woods, where we could be let alone.
KONDRATY
I did it to escape suspicion. If I went with you to the woods they’d say: “What has a God-fearing man like Kondraty got to do with such a fellow?” I hope you pardon! “Why is he so thick with him?” I purposely timed my coming so that they’d see us together with others.
SAVVA _(looking fixedly at him)_
Well?
KONDRATY _(turning away his eyes and shrugging his shoulders)_ I can’t.
SAVVA
You are afraid?
KONDRATY
To tell the truth, I am.
SAVVA
You’re no good, old chap.
KONDRATY
Perhaps not. You have a right to draw your own conclusions. _(Pause)_
SAVVA
But what are you afraid of, you booby? The machine is not dangerous. It won’t hurt you. All you have to do is to put it in the right place, set it off, and then you can go to the village to your mistresses.
KONDRATY
That’s not the point.
SAVVA
What then? Are you afraid of being caught? But I told you, if anything should happen, I’ll take the guilt on myself. Don’t you believe me?
KONDRATY
Why, of course I believe you.
SAVVA
What then? Do you fear God?
KONDRATY
Yes, I do.
SAVVA
But you don’t believe in God–you believe in the devil.
KONDRATY
Who knows? Maybe some day I’ll suddenly discover that He does exist. In that case, Mr. Savva, I thank you, but I’d rather not. Why should I? I live a nice, quiet existence. Of course, it’s all a humbug, an imposition. But what business is it of mine? The people want to believe–let them. It wasn’t I who invented God.
SAVVA
Look here. You know I could have done it myself. All I need have done was to take a bomb and throw it into the procession. That’s all. But that would mean the killing of many people, which at the present juncture would serve no useful purpose. I therefore ask you to do it. If you refuse, then the blood will rest on you. You understand?
KONDRATY
Why on me? I am not going to throw the bomb. And then, what have I got to do with them–I mean the people that get killed? What concern are they of mine? There are plenty of people in the world. You can’t kill them all, no matter how many bombs you throw.
SAVVA
Aren’t you sorry for them?
KONDRATY
If I were to be sorry for everybody, I should have no sympathy left for myself.
SAVVA
That’s right. You are a bright man. You have a good mind. I have already told you so. And yet you hesitate. You are clever, and yet you are afraid to smash a piece of wood.
KONDRATY
If it is nothing but a piece of wood, then why go to so much trouble about it? The point is, it is not a piece of wood, it is an image.
SAVVA
For me it is a piece of wood. For the people it is a sacred object. That is why I want to destroy it. Imagine how they’ll open their mouths and stare. Ah, brother, if you were not a coward, I would tell you some things.
KONDRATY
Go ahead and talk. It’s no sin to listen. I am not a coward either. I am simply careful.
SAVVA
This would only be the beginning, brother.
KONDRATY
A good beginning, I won’t deny it. And what will be the end?
SAVVA
The earth stripped naked, a _tabula rasa_, do you understand? And on this naked earth, naked man, naked as his mother bore him. No breeches on him, no orders, no pockets, nothing. Imagine men without pockets. Queer, isn’t it? Yes indeed, brother, the ikon is only the beginning.
KONDRATY
Oh, they’ll make new ones.
SAVVA
But they won’t be the same as before. And they’ll never forget this much–that dynamite is mightier than their God, and that man is mightier than dynamite. Look at them; see them yonder praying and kneeling, not daring to raise their heads and look you straight in the face, mean slaves that they are! Then comes a real man, and smash goes the whole humbug. Done for!
KONDRATY
Really!
SAVVA
And when a dozen of their idols have gone the same way, the slaves will begin to understand that the kingdom of their God is at an end, and that the kingdom of man has come. Lots of them will drop from sheer terror. Some will lose their wits, and others will throw themselves into the fire. They’ll say that Antichrist has come. Think of it, Kondraty!
KONDRATY
And aren’t you sorry for them?
SAVVA
Sorry for them? Why, they built a prison for me, and I am to be sorry for them. They put me in a torture chamber, and I am to be sorry for them. Bah!
KONDRATY
Who are you to be above pity?
SAVVA
I? I am a man who have been born. And having been born, I began to look about. I saw churches and penitentiaries. I saw universities and houses of prostitution. I saw factories and picture galleries. I saw palaces and filthy dens. I calculated the number of prisons there are to each gallery, and I resolved that the whole edifice must go, the whole of it must be overturned, annihilated. And we are going to do it. Our day of reckoning has come. It is time.
KONDRATY
Who are “we”?
SAVVA
I, you Kondraty, and others.
KONDRATY
The people are stupid. They won’t understand.
SAVVA
When the conflagration rages all around them, they will understand. Fire is a good teacher, old boy. Have you ever heard of Raphael?
KONDRATY
No, I haven’t.
SAVVA
Well, when we are through with God, we’ll go for fellows like him. There are lots of them–Titian, Shakespeare, Byron. We’ll make a nice pile of the whole lot and pour oil over it. Then we’ll burn their cities.
KONDRATY
Now, now you are joking. How is that possible? How can you burn the cities?
SAVVA
No, why should I be joking? All the cities. Look here, what are their cities? Graves, stone graves. And if you don’t stop those fools, if you let them go on making more, they will cover the whole earth with stone, and then all will suffocate–all.
KONDRATY
The poor people will have a hard time of it.
SAVVA
All will be poor then. What is it that makes a man rich? His having a house and money, and the fact that he has surrounded himself with a fence. But when there are no houses, no money, and no fences–
KONDRATY
That’s so. And there won’t be any legal papers either, no stocks, no bonds, no title-deeds. They will all have been burnt up.
SAVVA
No, there will be no legal papers. It’s work then–you’ll have to go to work even if you are a nobleman.
KONDRATY _(laughing)_
It’s funny. All will be naked as when coming out of a bath.
SAVVA
Are you a peasant, Kondraty?
KONDRATY
Yes, I am a peasant, sure enough.
SAVVA
I am a peasant also. We have nothing to lose, brother. We can’t fare worse than we do now.
KONDRATY
How could it be worse? But a great many people will perish, Mr. Tropinin.
SAVVA
It makes no difference. There’ll be enough left. It is the good-for-nothings that will perish, the fools to whom this life is like a shell to a crab. Those who believe will perish, because their faith will be taken away from them. Those who love the old will perish, because everything will be taken away from them. The weak, the sick, those who love quietness. There will be no quietness in the world, brother. There will remain only the free and the brave, those with young and eager souls and clear eyes that can embrace the whole universe.
KONDRATY
Like yours? I am afraid of your eyes, Savva Yegorovich, especially in the dark.
SAVVA
Yes, like mine. And emancipated from everything, naked, armed only with their reason, they will deliberate; discuss, talk things over, and build up a new life, a good life, Kondraty, where every man may breathe freely.
KONDRATY
It’s interesting. But men are sly creatures. Something of the old will be left over. They’ll hide it, or try some other trick, and then behold! back they slide to the old again, everything just as it was, just as of old. What then?
SAVVA
Just as of old? _(Gloomily)_ Then they will have to be wiped clean off the face of the earth. Let there be no living human being on earth. Enough of it!
KONDRATY _(shaking his head)_
But–
SAVVA _(putting his hand on his shoulder)_
Believe me, monk, I have been in many cities and in many lands, Nowhere did I see a free man. I saw only slaves. I saw the cages in which they live, the beds on which they are born and die; I saw their hatreds and their loves, their sins and their good works. And I saw also their amusements, their pitiful attempts to bring dead joy back to life again. And everything that I saw bore the stamp of stupidity and unreason. He that is born wise turns stupid in their midst; he that is born cheerful hangs himself from boredom and sticks out his tongue at them. Amidst the flowers of the beautiful earth–you have no idea how beautiful the earth is, monk–they have erected insane asylums. And what are they doing with their children? I have never yet seen parents that do not deserve capital punishment; first because they begot children, and secondly because, having begot them, they did not immediately commit suicide.
KONDRATY
Good heavens, how you talk! Hearing you, one hardly knows what to think.
SAVVA
And how they lie, how they lie, monk! They don’t kill the truth–no, they kick her and bruise her daily, and smear her clean face with their dirt and filth so that no one may recognize her, so that the children may not love her, and so that she may have no refuge. In all the world–yes, monk, in all the world–there is no place for truth. _(Sinks into meditation. Pause)_
KONDRATY
Is there no other way–without fire? It’s terrible, Savva Yegorovich. Consider what it means! It’s the end of the world.
SAVVA
No, it can’t be helped, partner. It must be. The end of the world must come too. They were treated with medicine, and it did no good. They were treated with iron, and it did no good. Now they must be treated with fire–fire!
_[Pause. Lightning flashes. The thunder has ceased. Somewhere outside a watchman can be heard striking his iron rod._
KONDRATY
And there’ll be no drinkshops either?
SAVVA _(pensively)_
No, nothing.
KONDRATY
They’ll start drinkshops again all right. Can’t get along without them, you know. _(A prolonged pause)_ Ye-es. What are you thinking about, Savva Yegorovich?
SAVVA
Nothing. _(Draws a light breath, cheerfully)_ Well, Kondraty, shall we begin?
KONDRATY _(swaying his head to and fro)_
It’s a mighty hard problem you have put up to me. It’s a poser.
SAVVA
Never mind, don’t get shaky now. You are a sensible man; you know it can’t be helped; there is nothing else to do. Would I be doing it myself, if it were not necessary? You can see that, can’t you?
KONDRATY _(heaving a sigh)_
Ye-es, hm! Why, Mr. Tropinin–why, my dear fellow–don’t I know, don’t I understand it all? It’s a rotten, cursed life! Ah, Mr. Savva, Mr. Savva–look here. If I were to tell anyone that I am a good man, they’d laugh and say: “What are you lying for, you drunkard?” Kondraty a good man! It sounds like a joke even to myself. And yet I swear to you, by God, I am a good man! I don’t know how it happened the way it did, why I am what I am now. I lived and lived, and suddenly! How it came about, what the reason of it is, I don’t know.
SAVVA
And you are still afraid?
KONDRATY
What am I now? I am neither a candle for God nor a poker for the devil. Sometimes when I think matters over–ah, Mr. Savva, do you think I have no conscience? Don’t I understand? I understand everything but–I am not really afraid of the devil either. I am just playing the fool. The devil–nonsense! If you were in the place of us in there, you would understand. Not long ago, when I was drunk, I cried: “Get out, devil–out of my way–am a desperate man!” I don’t care for anything. I don’t care if I die. I am ready. You have worked at me, Mr. Savva, until I have grown quite soft. _(Wipes his eyes with his sleeves)_
SAVVA
Why should you die? I don’t want to die either. We are going to live for some time to come, we are. How old are you?
KONDRATY
Forty-two.
SAVVA
Just the right age.
KONDRATY
I am sorry for the ikon. They say it appeared miraculously in the river, and that’s how it came to be here.
SAVVA
Nonsense. Don’t waste your feelings. It’s supposed to be a wonder-working ikon and hasn’t one miracle to its credit. Why, it makes one feel like a fool just to say it.
KONDRATY
They say it has been replaced by the devil, so that it isn’t the real one.
SAVVA
So much the better. And yet you crack your heads in front of it and fool the people about it. There is no use wasting words, my friend. It’s agreed then.
KONDRATY
You have to go now. The gate will soon be closed. And all of a sudden–
SAVVA
What “all of a sudden”?
KONDRATY
And all of a sudden I’ll be going to the ikon, and it will strike me down with lightning and thunder. Won’t it?
SAVVA _(laughing)_
Don’t be afraid. It won’t strike you. That’s what everybody thinks. They are all afraid they’ll be struck by lightning and thunder. But it won’t happen. Believe me, a man may blow up the ikon and no lightning will strike him. Do you need money?
KONDRATY
Have you got any?
SAVVA
I have.
KONDRATY _(suspiciously)_
Where did you get it?
SAVVA
What business is that of yours? Suppose I killed a rich man, or cut somebody’s throat–are you going to report me to the police?
KONDRATY _(reassured)_
What are you thinking of, Savva Yegorovich? That’s your concern. As to your offer, of course, money always comes in handy. It will enable me to leave the monastery. I’ll tell you in confidence, I have long been nursing a scheme–it’s my dream–to settle somewhere along the road and start an inn. I like company. I am a talkative chap myself. I know I’ll succeed. It doesn’t hurt a host to have a drink now and then. The guests like it. With a jolly host you’ll spend every penny you have, and your pants besides, and you won’t notice it. I know by personal experience.
SAVVA
Why not? You can start an inn if you want to.
KONDRATY
And besides, I am still in the full vigor of manhood. Instead of sinning here, I’d rather get legally married.
SAVVA
Don’t forget to invite me to the wedding. I’ll act as your godfather.
KONDRATY
You are too young. As to the money–when shall it be, before or after?
SAVVA
Judas got his before.
KONDRATY _(offended)_
There now, when you should be doing your best to persuade me, you call me Judas. It isn’t pleasant. The idea of calling a living man Judas!
SAVVA
Judas was a fool. He hanged himself. You are going to start an inn.
KONDRATY
Again? If that’s what you think of me–
SAVVA _(slapping his shoulders)_
Well, well, uncle, don’t you see I’m joking? Judas betrayed a man, and you are not going to betray anything but lumber. Is that right, old man? _Speransky and Tony appear, the latter walking very unsteadily._
KONDRATY
There–brought by the devil! With us carrying on this kind of conversation, and they–
SAVVA
It’s agreed then?
KONDRATY
Oh, you’re too much for me.
SPERANSKY _(bowing)_
Good evening once more, Mr. Savva Tropinin. Mr. Anthony and myself have just been at the other end, in the cemetery. A woman was buried there to-day, so we wanted to have a look.
SAVVA
To see if she hadn’t crawled out of her grave? What are you dragging him along with you for? Tony, go to bed, you can’t stand on your feet.
TONY
I won’t go.
SPERANSKY
Tony is very excited to-day. He sees all kinds of faces.
SAVVA
Funny faces?
TONY
Yes, funny. What else can you expect? _(Sadly)_ Your face, Savva, is very, very funny.
SAVVA
All right, go along with you! Take him home. What are you dragging him about with you for?
SPERANSKY
Good-bye. Come along, Mr. Anthony.
_[Speransky goes out. Tony follows him, looking back at Savva, and stumbling as he goes along. They disappear in the dark._
KONDRATY
It’s time for us also to be going. Have you got that money at hand?
SAVVA
Yes, I have. Now listen. Sunday is the feast-day. You are to take the machine Saturday morning and plant it at night at half past eleven, four days from now. I’ll show you how to do it and everything else that’s necessary. Four days more. I am sick of staying in this place.
KONDRATY
And suppose I betray you?
SAVVA _(darkly)_
Then I’d kill you.
KONDRATY
Good heavens!
SAVVA
Now I am going to kill you if you merely try to back out. You know too much, brother.
KONDRATY
You are joking.
SAVVA
Maybe I am joking. I am such a jolly fellow. I like to laugh.
KONDRATY
When you first came here, you were gay. Tell me, Mr. Savva _(looking around cautiously)_, did you ever kill a man, a real live man?
SAVVA
I did. I cut the throat of that rich business man I told you about.
KONDRATY _(waving his hand)_
Now I see that you are joking. Well, good-bye, I am going. Don’t you hang around here either. The gate will soon be closed. Oh, my–I am never afraid–but just as soon as I begin to think of the hall, it’s awful. There are shadows there now. Good night.
SAVVA
Good night.
_[Kondraty disappears in the dark. Lightning. Savva remains leaning on the railing to stare at the white tombstones that are momentarily revealed by the flashes of lightning._
SAVVA _(to the graves)_
Well, you dead ones, are you going to turn over in your graves or not? For some reason I don’t feel very cheerful–oh, ye dead–I don’t feel the least bit cheerful. _(Lightning)_
CURTAIN
THE THIRD ACT
_A festively decorated room with three windows to the street. One window is open, but the curtain is drawn. An open door, painted dark, leads into the room seen in the first act.
It is night and dark. Through the windows can be heard the continuous tramp of the pilgrims on their way to the monastery for the next day’s celebration. Some are barefoot; some wear boots or bast shoes. Their steps are quick and eager, or slow and weary. They walk singly or in groups of two or three, the majority in silence, though now and then suppressed, indistinct talking may be heard. Starting from somewhere far off to the left, the sound of the footsteps and the talking, muffled at first, approaches and grows louder, until at times it seems to fill the whole room. Then it dies away in the distance again. The impression is that of some tremendous movement, elemental and irrepressible.
At the table, lighted only by a flickering stump of a tallow candle, sit Speransky and Tony. The latter is very drunk. Cucumbers, herring, and bottles of whiskey are on the table. The rest of the room is entirely dark. Occasionally the wind blows the white curtain at the window and sets the candle flame tossing.
Tony and Speransky talk in whispers. A prolonged pause follows the rise of the curtain._
TONY _(bending over to Speransky, mysteriously)_
So you say it is possible we do not exist, eh?
SPERANSKY _(in the same manner)_
As I have already stated, it is doubtful, extremely doubtful. There is very good reason to suppose that we really do not exist–that we don’t exist at all.
TONY
And you are not, and I am not.
SPERANSKY
And you are not, and I am not. No one is. _(Pause)_
TONY _(looking around, mysteriously)_
Where are we then?
SPERANSKY
We?
TONY
Yes, we.
SPERANSKY
That’s something no one can tell. No one knows, Anthony.
TONY
No one?
SPERANSKY
No one.
TONY _(glancing around)_
Doesn’t Savva know?
SPERANSKY
No, Savva doesn’t know either.
TONY
Savva knows everything.
SPERANSKY
But even he doesn’t know that.
TONY _(threatening with his finger)_
Keep still, keep still! _(Both look around and are silent)_
TONY _(mysteriously)_
Where are they going, eh?
SPERANSKY
To the elevation of the ikon. To-morrow is a feast-day–the day of raising the ikon.
TONY
No, I mean where are they really going–really–don’t you understand?
SPERANSKY
I do. It isn’t known. No one knows, Anthony.
TONY
Hush! _(Makes a funny grimace, closes his mouth with his hand and leans on it)_
SPERANSKY _(in a whisper)_
What’s the matter?
TONY
Keep quiet, keep quiet. Listen. _(Both are listening)_
TONY _(in whisper)_
Those are faces.
SPERANSKY
Yes?
TONY
It’s faces that are going. A lot of faces–can’t you see them?
SPERANSKY _(staring)_
No, I can’t.
TONY
But I can. There they are, laughing. Why aren’t you laughing, eh?
SPERANSKY
I feel very despondent.
TONY
Laugh. You must laugh. Everybody is laughing. Hush, hush! _(Pause)_ Listen, nobody exists, nobody–do you understand? There is no God, there is no man, there are no animals. Here is the table–it doesn’t exist. Here is the candle–it doesn’t exist. The only things that exist are faces–you understand? Keep quiet, keep quiet. I am very much afraid.
SPERANSKY
What are you afraid of?
TONY _(bending near to Speransky)_
That I’ll die of laughter.
SPERANSKY
Really?
TONY _(shaking his head affirmatively)_
Yes, that I’ll die of laughter. I am afraid that some day I’ll catch sight of a face which will send me off roaring with laughter; and I’ll roar and roar until I die. Keep quiet. I know.
SPERANSKY
You never laugh
TONY
I am always laughing, but you don’t see it. It’s nothing. The only thing I am afraid is that I’ll die. I’ll come across a face one of these days which will start me off in a fit of laughter, and I’ll laugh and laugh and laugh and won’t be able to stop. Yes, it’s coming, it’s coming. _(Wipes his chest and neck)_
SPERANSKY
The dead know everything.
TONY _(mysteriously, with awe)_
I am afraid of Savva’s face. It’s a very funny face. One could die laughing over it. The point is that you can’t stop laughing–that’s the principal thing. You laugh and laugh and laugh. Is there nobody here?
SPERANSKY
Apparently no.
TONY
Keep quiet, keep quiet, I know. Keep quiet. _(Pause; the tramp of the pilgrim’s footsteps grows louder, as if they were walking in the very room itself)_ Are they going?
SPERANSKY
Yes, they are going. _(Pause)_
TONY
I like you. Sing me that song of yours. I’ll listen.
SPERANSKY
With your permission, Anthony. _(Sings in an undertone, almost in a whisper, a dismal, long-drawn-out tune somewhat resembling a litany)_
Life’s a sham, ’tis false, untrue,
Death alone is true, aye, true.
_(With increasing caution and pedantry, shaking his finger as if imparting a secret)_
All things tumble, vanish, break,
Death is sure to overtake
Outcast, tramp, and tiniest fly
Unperceived by naked eye.
TONY
What?
SPERANSKY
Unperceived by naked eye,
Wheedling, coaxing, courting, wooing, Death weds all to their undoing
And the myth of life is ended.
That’s all, Anthony.
TONY
Keep still, keep still. You have sung your song–now keep quiet.
_[Lipa enters, opens the window, removes the flowers, and looks out into the street. Then she lights the lamp._
TONY
Who is it? Is that you, Lipa? Lipa, eh, Lipa, where are they going?
LIPA
They are coming here for the feast-day. You had better go to bed, Tony, or father will see you and scold you.
SPERANSKY
Big crowds, aren’t they?
LIPA
Yes. But it’s so dark, you can’t see. Why are you so pale, Mr. Speransky? It is positively painful to look at you.
SPERANSKY
That’s how I feel, Miss Lipa.