The Complete Plays

THE POWER OF HYPNOTISM

Cилa „ипнoтизмa

Joke in One Act

by An. Chekhov and Iv. Shcheglov¹

On A. P. Chekhov’s first trip to Petersburg, he and I used to sit up long past midnight at Palkin’s inn. . . . Our discussion of serious topics shifted to merry themes, and A. P., among other things, improvised, in character, a whole short vaudeville, which was called “The Power of Hypnotism.”

A certain dark-eyed little widow has turned the heads of two of her admirers: a fat major with a superb majorial moustache and a youth with no moustache at all, a pharmacist’s assistant. Both rivals, — military and civilian, — are crazy about her and ready to make any sacrifice for the sake of her flashing eyes, which possess a certain special, hypnotic power. The cruel little widow explains to the amorous major that she has nothing against his proposal and that the only obstacle to their kissing as man and wife is the major’s bushy moustache. And wishing to test the demonic power of her eyes, the little widow uses them to hypnotize the major, which she does so successfully that the major silently makes for the door and hurries straight out of the parlor to the nearest barber . . . The widow also makes the young pharmacist do something stupid. And, because the little widow has “a third” in reserve, as a result, both admirers end up dupes.

I recall that the last scene, that is the major’s appearance without his moustache, made us both laugh a lot.

“You understand,” Chekhov said to me, “I’d like to write this playlet in the tone of the most outrageous farce . . . For instance, the amorous druggist secretly pours a love potion of his own devising into the little widow’s coffee . . . Or, for instance, a messenger appears with a letter—and the messenger suddenly turns out to be not a messenger at all, but the little widow’s sweetheart in disguise. Something along those lines! . . .”

Then Chekhov left for Moscow and gradually forgot about the vaudeville he’d thought up. When I questioned him about the playlet, he begged off, claiming he lacked the proper “mood for a vaudeville.” Then he rapidly wrote a full-length play (Ivanov) and the vaudeville was put off to some indefinite time. In his later letters A. P. never brought up The Power of Hypnotism, and invited me to visit him in the summer so that we could write a full-length funny comedy together. This plan was not destined to be realized, however, and only after Chekhov’s death did it occur to me to carry out the projected collaboration in a different way: to complete from memory, following the words and hints of A. P., The Power of Hypnotism.

Although the text in the reconstructed Power of Hypnotism is entirely mine, the whole scenario and outlines of the characters planned by Chekhov were drawn too boldly for there to be any need to deviate from them.

Only the “major” (a rank that has vanished nowadays) I promoted to a “colonel,” and “the fake messenger” was turned into a genuine fiancé, to use him in the denouement of the vaudeville.

Iv. Shcheglov

St. Petersburg

July 1910

THE POWER OF HYPNOTISM

Joke in One Act

CHARACTERS ²

YULIYA ADAMOVNA KRASNUSHKINA, an interesting little widow

SHIPUNOV, a colonel in the reserves

LEDENTSOV, a young pharmacist’s assistant

A MESSENGER

The action takes place in the summer, at a country cottage.

I

KRASNUSHKINA, SHIPUNOV, and LEDENTSOV.

KRASNUSHKINA is sitting on a bench under a linden tree. On either side of her, on their knees, SHIPUNOV and LEDENTSOV.

SHIPUNOV. I love you! . . .

LEDENTSOV. So do I!! . . .

SHIPUNOV. Oh, Yuliya . . . be mine!

LEDENTSOV. And mine! . . . Oh!! (clutches at his heart. SHIPUNOV casts his rival a scornful, envious glance.)

SHIPUNOV (resolutely). Just one word: yes or no?

LEDENTSOV (irresolutely). One word . . . just: no or yes? (Suspensefulpause.)

KRASNUSHKINA (her eyes twinkling enigmatically). Both yes . . . and no! . . .

SHIPUNOV and LEDENTSOV exchange glances of perplexity and incomprehension.

SHIPUNOV. How come: neither yes nor no?

LEDENTSOV. Well, how come?

KRASNUSHKINA (flirtatiously). Oh, just . . . because! . . .

SHIPUNOV and LEDENTSOV get up from their knees in disappointment.

SHIPUNOV. I must confess, it’s rather strange . . .

LEDENTSOV. Hm . . . it’s strange, I must confess . . . (Slaps himself on the forehead.) There’s probably some secret involved!

SHIPUNOV. Women always have the same secret: if it’s not one man or another, it means that there is . . . a third!

KRASNUSHKINA (her eyes twinkling enigmatically). Perhaps . . .

SHIPUNOV. What did I say!

LEDENTSOV. So did I! . . .

SHIPUNOV (exploding). No, I said it, not you!

LEDENTSOV. Why: you, and not me?

SHIPUNOV. Because . . . I am not you!

LEDENTSOV (getting excited). But you . . . are not me!

SHIPUNOV. And I’m proud that . . . I am not you!

LEDENTSOV. And I’m proud that . . . you are not me!!

SHIPUNOV. Well, that’s for sure—you hernia truss . . .

LEDENTSOV (shouts). Repeat what you just said? . . .

SHIPUNOV (shouts). Hernia truss! . . . Pepsin! Aspirin! Saccharine!

LEDENTSOV. Hold me back . . . or else I won’t be held responsible for my actions!! (Offstage a dog barks.)

KRASNUSHKINA (interposes her parasol, so that it serves as a barrier, separating them). Gentlemen, have you gone crazy? You are in my summer cottage, in my presence . . . and all of a sudden you’re practically dueling! (Shoots a languorous, hypnotic glance at them. The rivals calm down and droop their heads guiltily. Pause.) After all, put yourself in my place: I let the servant girl go to the market, I’m here all alone, I have no husband . . . I might . . . well, I might be sick with fright, if something like this were to recur!!

SHIPUNOV (leaning toward Krasnushkina, in an undertone). Put yourself in my place as well: I cannot declare my feelings in the presence of some disinfectant . . .

LEDENTSOV (having overheard this last word shouts:) Yuliya Adamovna . . . I will not be held responsible for my actions!! (Offstage a dog barks.)

KRASNUSHKINA (to Shipunov). That’s Nero calling for his bath . . . (To Ledentsov.) Monsieur Ledentsov . . . you really must calm down! . . . Go to the kitchen, take Nero and walk him over to the pond . . .

LEDENTSOV. How can I take him, I’d like to know, when he’s almost the size of a bear! Yesterday, when I took him for a swim, he grabbed on to my left foot . . .

KRASNUSHKINA. You’re afraid of such trifles and dare, after that, to talk about love! (Hypnotizes him.) You will go . . . and give him a bath!!

LEDENTSOV exits across the balcony. Offstage a dog barks again and LEDENTSOV cries out. Pause.

II

KRASNUSHKINA and SHIPUNOV.

KRASNUSHKINA. I got back from my swim in such a dreamy mood, and then suddenly out of the blue — the two of you with your declarations . . . and such Hispanic passions . . . Horrors! . . . And how many times has my doctor warned me that any talk of love on an empty stomach is extremely harmful . . . Because of you, I still haven’t had my coffee . . . (Goes to the balcony, sits down at the table and drinks her coffee.) Well, sir, I shall drink my coffee, and you may declare your feelings . . .

SHIPUNOV (stands gloomily, in a picturesque pose, near the balcony). To speak for myself, I have but a single feeling: I cannot live without you!

KRASNUSHKINA. And how did you manage to live before?

SHIPUNOV. How can you call that living: it was like a kind of bachelor decadentalism . . .

KRASNUSHKINA. So you want to get married? . . .

SHIPUNOV. I don’t want to, but I’m burning with desire!

KRASNUSHKINA. And it has to be . . . me?

SHIPUNOV. Other women do not exist for me!!

KRASNUSHKINA (evasively). You are forgetting, Colonel, that every woman has her foibles and whims . . .

SHIPUNOV (gallantly twirls his magnificent moustache). Damn it all, there is no sacrifice I would not make for the woman I adore! . . .

KRASNUSHKINA. Why should I believe you? . . .

SHIPUNOV. Because a mere glance from your eyes is a law for me! I swear by the horns of Satan that whatever you demand of me . . . will be instantly performed!!

KRASNUSHKINA. Even if I were to demand . . . (Stares at his moustache and smiles enigmatically.)

SHIPUNOV. You do not finish your sentence . . . is something troubling you??

KRASNUSHKINA. Indeed, I am troubled by the prospect of our marriage. I will be your wife, and you will be my husband . . . and then you’ll want to kiss me! . . .

SHIPUNOV. What’s wrong with that? Naturally, once I am your husband . . . I shall want to kiss your splendid lips!

KRASNUSHKINA. But that’s absolutely out of the question . . .

SHIPUNOV. Why is it out of the question?

KRASNUSHKINA. Because my splendid lips . . . cannot abide a big moustache . . . Fie, it prickles so unpleasantly!

SHIPUNOV (puzzled). What do you mean?

KRASNUSHKINA (hypnotizes him). The meaning is quite simple: if you love me . . . you will shave it off . . .

SHIPUNOV. I’m ready for anything, by the horns of Satan—but not my moustache! . . . For pity’s sake, Pushkin himself sang of the hussar’s moustache:

. . . He began to twirl his long moustache . . .

And besides there is a circular from the War Department concerning moustaches . . . A moustache is, in a manner of speaking, government issue!!

KRASNUSHKINA. Well, in other words, you don’t love me . . . Good-bye! (Turns away.)

SHIPUNOV. I . . . don’t love you? Why, I can’t sleep nights because of you; I’ve given up my club, cards, the races . . . I’m literally going out of my mind with love!! . . .

KRASNUSHKINA. If that’s the case, then what’s keeping you . . . from spending half an hour at the barbershop? . . . (Hypnotizes him.) Snip-snip . . . and you will get a definite answer . . .

SHIPUNOV (wavering). A definite one . . .

KRASNUSHKINA. I just said so. (Gets up, walks over to him and hypnotizes him powerfully.) Go . . . and be shaved! . . .

SHIPUNOV (under a hypnotic spell, moves backward to the gate). I go . . . and shall be shaved . . . Oh, those eyes! I swear by the horns of Satan it’s beyond human power to withstand that gaze!! I go, ma’am . . . (Clicks his spurs.)

KRASNUSHKINA. Go . . . and I promise you something . . . you least expect!

SHIPUNOV (completely stupefied). You promise something? . . . Oh, I’m going, I’m going!! . . . (Exits.)

III

KRASNUSHKINA (alone) and then LEDENTSOV.

KRASNUSHKINA. Well, that’s one shown the door—now to make short work of the other one . . . (A dog barks offstage.) There he is . . . There’s really is something . . . magnetic . . . about my eyes! . . . Many people have remarked on it from a distance. Only there’s never been a suitable occasion to try out their power . . . (Takes out a hand mirror and smartens herself up. LEDENTSOV appears on the balcony, limping on his right foot. Taking advantage of Krasnushkina having her back to him, he pulls out of his pocket a packet of powder and hastily sprinkles the powder into Krasnushkina’s cup.)

LEDENTSOV (resolutely). I’ll commit a crime, and she shall be mine!!

KRASNUSHKINA (sees it all in her hand-mirror). What is he doing? He sprinkled something in my coffee . . . What a lunatic! . . . (Quickly turns around and almost bumps into Ledentsov.) What were you doing out there . . . on the balcony? You were sprinkling something into my coffee! . . . Well, confess: did you sprinkle, sprinkle?? . . .

LEDENTSOV (falling to his knees). Forgive me, but I . . . this . . . wanted to . . . I mean I turned to the last resort! . . .

KRASNUSHKINA. What is the last resort?

LEDENTSOV (on his knees). The resort that stimulates love! . . . My own invention in the form of a powder . . . I’ve just petitioned the Health Department for a patent . . . it’s called “amoroso furioso”!! . . .

KRASNUSHKINA. Get up . . . I forgive you! . . . Love excuses a great many things . . . But promise me never to pour in any more “amoroso”!

LEDENTSOV. Why get up! I would rather die at your feet!!

KRASNUSHKINA. Get up . . . and get out! You’re always in a hurry to die . . .

LEDENTSOV. How can I leave you . . . before I receive a definite answer?

KRASNUSHKINA. You will get a definite answer in half an hour: it can’t be done earlier . . . On the other hand I promise you something (correcting herself), something you least expect! . . .

LEDENTSOV. You promise . . . something? Oh! . . . (Clutches at his heart.)

KRASNUSHKINA. Yes, but on one condition: you tidy yourself up a bit first . . . The way you look now you’d better not appear before me!

LEDENTSOV (looking himself over). What doesn’t look right? What’s untidy about me?

KRASNUSHKINA. Both what’s in your head . . . and on your head! . . . It’s your long hair (tousles his hair). Isn’t this really unsightly? It’s quite out of keeping for a suitor . . . And besides, I can’t stand long hair . . . you understand, I can’t stand it!!.

LEDENTSOV. But excuse me, Yuliya Adamovna, I am a poet, aren’t I? . . . After all, it’s inconceivable: a poet . . . and no long hair! . . .

KRASNUSHKINA. You . . . a poet! Since when?

LEDENTSOV. Since six o’clock this morning! Yesterday when you gave me a violet from your bouquet, I could not sleep all night from bliss, and towards morning I composed verses devoted entirely to you . . . (declaims with strong emotion).

In the twilight of life, so wretched and gritty,

You made me smell sweet with your violet pretty . . .

I came back to life—no longer a vagrant,

I soared in the air amidst odors so fragrant! . . .

I soared!! . . .

KRASNUSHKINA. Merci, the verses are very charming . . . But all the same it shouldn’t keep you from dropping by the barbershop! . . .

LEDENTSOV (depressed). Which means, I’ve got to be . . . shorn!

KRASNUSHKINA. If I say so, that’s what it means . . . What sort of love is it that cannot make even an empty sacrifice! (Hypnotizes him.) Why don’t you have it done? . . .

LEDENTSOV. Does it have to be close-cropped,—I mean, like a hedgehog?

KRASNUSHKINA. Definitely “like a hedgehog” . . . I can’t imagine my husband-to-be as anything but a hedgehog! . . .

LEDENTSOV. In that case . . . I shall have it done!

KRASNUSHKINA. It’s about time. (Hypnotizes him.) Snip-snip . . . and no one will recognize you! . . .

LEDENTSOV (under the hypnotic spell). Snip-snip . . . and no one will recognize me!! (Sends a kiss through the air.) I evacuate! . . . I evaporate! . . . (Exits.)

IV

KRASNUSHKINA (alone).

KRASNUSHKINA. It looks as if I’ve gone rather far with my “summer flirtations”! . . . If Boris doesn’t show up today, I really don’t know how I’m going to get myself out of this . . . Judging by his letter, he was supposed to be back from his cruise last night . . . Boris darling, come back quickly! (Stops pensively by the balcony.) Ah, it’s really my fault that things have turned out this way! Being alone in a cottage is so boring that you’re glad for any chance acquaintance . . . And besides it’s so interesting: to try out the power of my feminine charms on men! . . . Just last winter a gypsy fortune teller predicted that I would cause all sorts of trouble with my eyes . . . Yes, and then she predicted . . . (Laughs.) Well, what nonsense! . . . That I should beware . . . “of meeting a red-headed messenger” . . . Apparently, if I meet a red-headed messenger, all my powers will suddenly disappear . . . And here’s the problem: now I’m afraid of all red-headed messengers!! (She suddenly screams, on seeing a tall messenger with a big red beard coming through the gate. The messenger, despite the summer weather, is wearing a long overcoat with a turned-up collar, with a satchel over his shoulder.)

V

KRASNUSHKINA and MESSENGER (BORIS in disguise).

BORIS (in a feigned hoarse voice). Does Yuliya Adamovna Krasnushkina live here?

KRASNUSHKINA (upset). Krasnushkina . . . that’s me!

BORIS. Here’s a telegram for you, ma’am . . . (Hands her a telegram and jealously looks on.)

KRASNUSHKINA. God forbid there’s been an accident! (With trembling hands she tears open the envelope.) “Arriving today. Your Boris”—(excited). He’s coming! He’s coming! At last . . . Oh, how happy I am!! (Rummages in her purse.) Here’s a half-ruble tip . . . drink to the health of Boris! (The messenger bows low.) Lord, how happy I am! . . . If it weren’t for that red beard, I think I might kiss him in my delight! . . .

BORIS. Well, in that case . . . we can take off the beard! (Pulls off the beard and the cap. Before Krasnushkina stands a young officer in a naval uniform. A cry of joy.)

KRASNUSHKINA. Boris . . . is it you?

BORIS. Why, of course . . . (A prolonged kiss.)

KRASNUSHKINA (helping him out of his overcoat and satchel). Well, what’s the reason for the mystification? Are you trying to test my love? . . . (BORIS cheerfully nods assent.) Naughty boy! How can you doubt my feelings for even a moment!! And, finally, how can you . . . try a woman’s patience so long? Furthermore . . .

BORIS. It hasn’t been so long. We arrived at Cronstadt only this morning . . . and I took a torpedo boat straight to here! I lingered only five minutes to change my clothes . . . From early morning, as the saying goes, not a morsel has passed my lips. And there’s coffee, right on cue! That’s just what I need . . . (Goes to the balcony and pours coffee into the cup, into which the love powder has been sprinkled.)

KRASNUSHKINA (tragically). Boris . . . do not drink! . . .

BORIS. What do you mean: “Do not drink”? That’s very kind of you . . .

KRASNUSHKINA (agitated). What I meant to say was “Do drink!” . . . I’m so excited by your unexpected arrival . . . (to herself.) God knows what he sprinkled in it! However, if it stimulates love . . . let it be!!

BORIS (drinks). The coffee’s delicious, but awfully sweet . . . (Raises the cup.) “I drink to the health of Boris!” (Laughs).

KRASNUSHKINA. And how about the “fifty-kopek piece”? . . .

BORIS. Well, forgive me: we won’t give back the “fifty-kopek piece” for anything! I’ll have it made into a charm for my watch chain and will wear it as the dearest memento . . . (Finishing his coffee.) I don’t know what’s come over me? . . . I have never loved so madly! . . . Oh Yuliya, love is setting my blood on fire!! (Speeds from the balcony and enfolds Krasnushkina in an ardent embrace.) I feel like smothering you today in my embrace!!! . . .

KRASNUSHKINA (dismayed). Love . . . embrace . . . But when do we get married? . . .

BORIS. Married . . . why not right now! . . .

KRASNUSHKINA. Right now . . . is impossible! What about tomorrow morning . . .

BORIS. Till tomorrow is much too long! This evening is better!

KRASNUSHKINA. I really don’t know . . . I have to make some arrangements . . .

BORIS. No you don’t. The simpler the better. Wouldn’t a wedding party create delays? . . .

KRASNUSHKINA. I don’t think so! . . . I have tamed two best men . . . with that very aim in mind . . .

BORIS (jealously). Who are they?

KRASNUSHKINA. One is a colonel, and the other . . . Well, speak of the devil . . . (Far upstage SHIPUNOV and LEDENTSOV appear: the former has shaved off his moustache, and the latter has his head shorn; both look rather crestfallen.—KRASNUSHKINA cannot keep from laughing.)

BORIS. What’s so funny?

KRASNUSHKINA. Ah, they’re hilarious! I’ll tell you all about it later . . . For now hide behind the tree! . . . (Boris shrugs and hides behind the garden bench, back of the linden tree.)

VI

The same, SHIPUNOV, and LEDENTSOV.

SHIPUNOV (stepping forward ). Here I am!

LEDENTSOV (appearing behind Shipunov). Here we are!! . . .

SHIPUNOV. You promised me something . . . if I fufilled your wish . . . Alas! (Points to his shaven upper lip.)

LEDENTSOV. And you also promised me, if I . . . (Points to his smooth-shaven pate.) Alack and alas!!

SHIPUNOV. Hm . . . I’d be curious to know: where exactly is this mysterious something?

LEDENTSOV. That’s just it: — where is it?? . . .

KRASNUSHKINA (mixed up). He . . . I mean it . . . it is here! (Waves to Boris.) Mister something . . . please come over here! . . . (BORIS comes out of hiding.) May I introduce you to: Baron Frank . . . Boris Nikolaevich . . . my husband-to-be! (To him.) And these . . . are the best men-to-be . . . Shipunov and Ledentsov! (Shipunov and Ledentsov are dumbfounded.) I hope, gentlemen, you will not refuse us the kindness of being our best men?? . . . (Affectionately embraces Boris.—LEDENTSOV, unable to support the sight, falls with a groan on to the chest of Shipunov.)

NOTES

1 Ivan Leontyevich Leontyev (1856–1911), an army captain, who in the early 1880s embarked on a promising career as a playwright and novelist under the name Ivan Shcheglov. He was an expert at depicting the rising bourgeoisie, and his novel Suburban Husband (Dachny muzh) added a phrase to the language. His career petered out in the mid-1890s. This translation is based on the text in Shcheglov’s Zhizn vverkh nogami. Iumoristicheskie ocherki i parodii (A Topsy-turvy Life. Humorous sketches and parodies) (St. Petersburg, 1911).

2 All the names are jokes and might be rendered into Dickensian English as Julia Blushington, Col. Fizzgig, and Mr. Coffdrop.