The Complete Plays

THE EVE OF THE TRIAL

In 1886 Chekhov published a story with this title, and he returned to it in the early 1890s to convert it into a play. In the process, he blackened the criminal record of his hero, Zaitsev, bringing him to trial not simply for bigamy and a series of beatings but for bigamy, forging his grandmother’s will, and attempted murder. The scene in which Zaitsev plays mock doctor to “examine” the woman in the room next door was considerably enlarged; so was his sleazy courtship of her. Her character was altered to make her seem an experienced coquette ready to cuckold her husband. However, since the play was left unfinished, Zaitsev’s farewell the next morning and his payment for his “honest labor” were never worked out, nor was the climax, the scene in court when Zaitsev is surprised to find that the Public Prosecutor is in fact the hoodwinked husband.

Why Chekhov gave it up is matter for speculation. Perhaps he realized that the seduction would be hard to get past the censor or that the necessary division into two or three scenes would defeat the comedy’s economy as a curtain raiser. As it stands, The Eve of the Trial is close to French boulevard farce in its sexual obsessions. The tone is more insistently vulgar than in any of Chekhov’s other short plays. Bedbugs, fleas, and smells are ubiquitous, a dramatic legacy from Gogol, no doubt, but emphasized here ad nauseam.

The “gags” are part of a long popular tradition. The mock doctor’s examination could easily coarsen into an American burlesque sketch. The Aesopic names Gusev and Zaitsev (Goose and Hare) belong in a clown show. When Zaitsev contemplates suicide, he conducts a ventriloqual exchange with his gun. Crooning endearments to a suicide weapon is a comic device that goes back to the commedia dell’arte and the folk comedies of Ruzzante. Zaitsev is thus a provincial Russian Harlequin, amoral and appetitive, whose ruminations on self-destruction cast a satiric reflection on the suicides in Chekhov’s serious works.

THE EVE OF THE TRIAL

Hoчь пeрe‰ cy‰oм

(Unfinished)

CHARACTERS¹

FYODOR NIKITICH GUSEV, a gentleman of advanced years

ZINOCHKA, his young wife

ALEKSEY ALEKSEICH ZAITSEV, passing through

THE MASTER OF A POSTING STATION

A posting station.² A gloomy room with smoke-blackened walls, big sofas upholstered in oilcloth. A cast-iron stove with a stovepipe, which traverses the room.

ZAITSEV (with a suitcase), STATION MASTER (with a candle.)

ZAITSEV. That’s quite a stench in this place of yours, Señor! You can’t draw a breath! It stinks of sealing-wax, something sourish, bedbugs . . . Phooey!

STATION MASTER. Smells are only natural.

ZAITSEV. Tomorrow wake me up at six o’clock . . . And see that the troika is ready . . . I have to make it to town by nine.

STATION MASTER. All right . . .

ZAITSEV. What time is it now?

STATION MASTER. One-thirty . . . (Exits.)

ZAITSEV (taking off his fur coat and felt boots). It’s cold! You could go crazy with the cold . . . Right now I’m feeling as if somebody had plastered me over with snow, poured water on top of me, and then did a botch job of carving me out of it . . . What with these snowdrifts, this infernal blizzard, another five minutes out of doors, and I think I’d be a dead duck. I’m dead tired. And all on account of what? It would be nice if I were on my way to a rendezvous to collect a legacy, but I’m actually heading for my own destruction . . . I hate to think about it . . . Tomorrow the circuit court is in session in town, and I’m on my way there to be a defendant. I’m going to be tried for attempted bigamy, forging my grandmother’s will to the tune of over three hundred rubles, and attempted murder of a billiard hustler . . . The jury’ll find against me — there’s no doubt about it. Here today, tomorrow night behind bars, and six months from now in the chilly wastes of Siberia . . . Brrr!

Pause.

Still, I do have a way out of that dire situation. I do! In case the jury does find against me, I’ll turn to my old friend . . . A loyal, trusty friend! (Takes a horse pistol out of his suitcase.) Here he is! How’s the boy? I traded Che-prakov³ a couple of hounds for him. What a beauty! Just shooting yourself with him would be a kind of satisfaction . . . (Tenderly.) You loaded, boy? (In a piping voice, as if answering for the pistol.) I’m loaded . . . (In his own voice.) I bet you’ll go off with a bang, right? A real rip-roaring ear-splitter? (Piping.) A real rip-roaring ear-splitter . . . (In his own voice.) Oh, you silly kid, gun o’ my heart . . . All right, now lie down and go to sleep . . . (Kisses the pistol and places it in the suitcase.) As soon as I hear “Guilty as charged,” then right away—bang to the brain and the sweet bye-and-bye . . . But I’m frozen as hell . . . Brrr! Got to get warm! . . . (Does calisthenics with his arms and skips around the stove.) Brrr!

ZiNOCHKA peeps through the doorway and immediately retires from view.

What was that? I thought someone just looked in at the door . . . Hm . . . Yes, someone did look in . . . In other words, I’ve got neighbors? (Hearkens at the door.) Can’t hear anything . . . Not a sound . . . I suppose they’re just passing through as well . . . I ought to wake them up, if they’re decent people, sit down to a game of whist . . . A grand slam in no trumps! One way of keeping occupied, damn it . . . Even better if it’s a woman. I’ve got to admit I like nothing better than a roadside fling. Sometimes when you’re on the road you luck out with an affair like you wouldn’t find in a Turgenev novel . . . I remember a case just like this once when I was riding around Samara province. I had stopped at a posting station . . . It’s night, you get the picture, the cricket’s chirping in the stove, silent as the grave . . . I’m sitting at the table drinking tea . . . Suddenly I hear this mysterious rustling . . . I open the door and . . .

ZINOCHKA (behind the door). This is an outrage! This is beyond belief! This isn’t a posting station, but a madhouse! (After a glance through the doorway, shouts.) Station master! Station master! Where are you!

ZAITSEV (aside). What a beauty! (To her.) Madam, there is no station master. The oaf is fast asleep. What can I do for you? May I be of service?

ZINOCHKA. This is dreadful, dreadful! The bedbugs are about to eat me alive!

ZAITSEV. Really? Bedbugs? Ah . . . how dare they?

ZINOCHKA (through tears). In short, it is dreadful! I’m going to leave at once! Tell that scoundrel of a station master to harness the horses! The bedbugs have drained me of my blood!

ZAITSEV. Poor creature! To be so beautiful, and have to put up with this . . . No, it is beyond belief!

ZINOCHKA (shouts). Station master!

ZAITSEV. Madam . . . mademoiselle . . .

ZINOCHKA. I’m not a mademoiselle . . . I’m married.

ZAITSEV. All the better . . . (Aside.) What a sweetheart! (To her.) What I mean is, not having the honor to know your name, madam, and being in my own turn a well-brought-up, respectable person, I venture to put myself at your disposal . . . I can alleviate your distress . . .

ZINOCHKA. How so?

ZAITSEV. I have an excellent remedy—I always travel with flea powder . . . Allow me to offer it to you most cordially, from the bottom of my heart!

ZINOCHKA. Ah, please do!

ZAITSEV. In that case, I shall immediately . . . this very minute . . . I’ll get it out of my suitcase. (Runs to the suitcase and rummages around in it.) What sparkling eyes, that little nose . . . We’ll have an affair! I can feel it! (Rubbing his hands.) That’s always been my luck: as soon as I hole up in some posting station, there’s an affair . . . So lovely that even my eyes are shooting sparks . . . Here it is! (Comes back to the door.) Here it is, come to your rescue . . .

ZINOCHKA holds out her hand from behind the door.

No, allow me to go into your room and sprinkle it around . . .

ZINOCHKA. No, no . . . How can I let you into my room?

ZAITSEV. Why can’t you? There’s nothing more normal, especially since . . . especially since I’m a doctor, and doctors and ladies’ hairdressers are always entitled to intrude into private life . . .

ZINOCHKA. You’re not lying when you say you’re a doctor? Honestly?

ZAITSEV. Word of honor!

ZINOCHKA. Well, if you are a doctor . . . then please do . . . Only why should I put you to any trouble? I can send my husband for it . . . Fedya! Fedya! Will you wake up, you great lummox!

GUSEV’s voice: “Huh?”

Come in here, the doctor’s been kind enough to lend us some flea powder. (Retires from view.)

ZAITSEV. Fedya! “This big surprise I greet with thanks!”⁴ I need this Fedya like a hole in the head! Damn him! No sooner do I manage to get to know her, no sooner do I come up with the brilliant idea of saying I’m a doctor, then all of a sudden there’s this Fedya . . . It’s like shoving me under a cold shower . . . Try and get any flea powder from me! There’s nothing lovely about her . . . No great catch, with that funny kisser . . . not one thing or the other . . . I can’t stand women like that!

GUSEV (in a dressing gown and nightcap). Pleased to meet you, doctor . . . My wife just told me that you’ve got some flea powder.

ZAITSEV (rudely). Yes I do!

GUSEV. Be so kind as to lend us a little. That insectlopedia⁵ has got the better of us . . .

ZAITSEV. Take it!

GUSEV. Thank you kindly . . . Much obliged to you. So you got caught on the road by the snowstorm as well?

ZAITSEV. Yes!

GUSEV. Quite so, sir . . . Dreadful weather . . . Where are you headed?

ZAITSEV. To town.

GUSEV. We’re going to town as well. Tomorrow I’ve got my work cut out for me in town, I have to get a good night’s sleep, but that insectlopedia won’t let me . . . We’ve got the most awful hideous scorpions . . . If it were up to me, I’d indict all these station masters for their bedbugs under Statute one hundred and twenty of the Penal Code enforced by the circuit courts in regard to unleashed animals. Much obliged to you, doctor . . . And what diseases you do specialize in?

ZAITSEV. Chest ailments and . . . and heads.

GUSEV. Quite so, sir . . . Much obliged . . . (Exits.)

ZAITSEV (alone). What a stick insect! If it were up to me, I’d douse him from head to foot with flea powder. I’d like to beat him at cards, the scum, and leave him holding the bag ten times running! Or even better, play him at billiards and accidentally whack him with the cue, so he’d remember me for a week . . . That blob instead a nose, little blue veins all over his face, that wart on his forehead and . . . and on top of that he dares to have a wife like her! What right has he got? It’s an outrage! No, it’s really nasty . . . And then people ask why I take such a gloomy view of life? Well, try and keep from being a pessimist!

GUSEV (in the doorway). Don’t be shy, Zinochka . . . After all, he is a doctor! Don’t stand on ceremony and ask him . . . There’s nothing to be afraid of . . . Sherventsov was no good, but maybe this one will be . . . (To Zaitsev.) Excuse me, Doctor, for disturbing you . . . Please tell me why my wife has this congestion in her chest? A cough, you know . . . congests, as if, you know, something were impacted . . . Why is that?

ZAITSEV. It’s a long story . . . It takes time to explain . . .

GUSEV. Then what are we waiting for? I’ve got the time . . . We can’t sleep anyway. Give her the once-over, my dear fellow!

ZAITSEV (aside). I’m in a pickle for sure!

GUSEV (shouts). Zina! Ah, what’s the matter with you, honestly . . . (To him.) She’s shy . . . Introverted, just like me . . . Modesty’s a fine thing, but why take it to extremes? To be shy with the doctor when you’re ill is the worst thing for you.

ZINOCHKA (enters). Honestly, I’m so embarrassed . . .

GUSEV. That’ll do, that’ll do . . . (To him.) I ought to mention that she’s being treated by Sherventsov. He’s all right, a nice guy, sharp as a tack, knows what he’s doing, but . . . who knows? I don’t trust him! He doesn’t have heart, no matter what you say! I can see, Doctor, that you’re not in the mood, but do be so kind!

ZAITSEV. I . . . I’m not against it . . . I don’t mind . . . (Aside.) What a predicament!

GUSEV. You examine her, and meanwhile I’ll drop in on the station master and order up a little samovar . . . (Exits.)

ZAITSEV. Please have a seat . . .

She sits.

How old are you?

ZINOCHKA. Twenty-two.

ZAITSEV. Hm . . . A dangerous age. Let me feel your pulse! (Takes her pulse.) Hm . . . M-yes . . .

Pause.

What are you laughing at?

ZINOCHKA. You aren’t pretending to be a doctor, are you?

ZAITSEV. Certainly not! What do you take me for? Hm . . . nothing wrong with the pulse . . . M-yes . . . And a plump, dainty little hand . . . Damn it, I love roadside flings! You travel for miles on end and suddenly you come across this kind of . . . little hand . . . Do you like medicine?

ZINOCHKA. Yes.

ZAITSEV. Isn’t that nice! Awfully nice! Let me take your pulse!

ZINOCHKA. But, but, but . . . don’t get carried away!

ZAITSEV. What a lovely voice, charming eyes darting hither and yon . . . The smile alone could make you lose your mind . . . Is your husband jealous? Very? Your pulse . . . your pulse alone, and I could die happy!

ZINOCHKA. Excuse me, if I may, my dear sir . . . My dear sir! I see that you take me for some sort of . . . You are mistaken, my dear sir! I am a married woman, my husband occupies a position in society.

ZAITSEV. I know, I know, but can I help it if you are so beautiful?

ZINOCHKA. Well, I, my dear sir, shall not allow you . . . Please leave me alone, otherwise I shall have to take measures . . . My dear sir! I love and respect my husband too much to allow some passing smart-aleck to talk such smut to me . . . You’re on quite the wrong track if you think that I . . . Here’s my husband coming back, I think . . . Yes, yes, he’s coming . . . Why don’t you say something? What are you waiting for . . . Go on, go on . . . Kiss me or something!

ZAITSEV. My dearest. (Kisses her.) Sweetie-pie! Puggy-wuggy! (Kisses her.)

ZINOCHKA. But, but, but . . .

ZAITSEV. My pussy-kitten . . . (Kisses her.) My flibbertigibbet . . . (When he sees GUSEV enter.) One more question: when do you cough the most, on Tuesdays or Thursdays?

ZINOCHKA. Fridays . . .

ZAITSEV. Hm . . . Let me take your pulse!

GUSEV (aside). It looked as if he were kissing her . . . Exactly the same as with Sherventsov . . . I don’t understand a thing about medicine . . . (To his wife.) Zinochka, you be serious . . . You musn’t go on like this . . . You mustn’t neglect your health! You ought to pay close attention to what the doctor tells you. Nowadays medicine has made enormous progress! Enormous progress!

ZAITSEV. Oh, indeed! Listen, here’s what I’ve got to say. At the moment there’s nothing seriously wrong with your wife’s health, but if she doesn’t undergo a course of treatment, her illness may have dangerous consequences: a heart attack and inflammation of the brain . . .

GUSEV. There, you see, Zinochka! You see! The trouble I have with you . . . and I’d rather not even look at you, honestly . . .

ZAITSEV. I’m going to write a prescription . . . (Tears a piece of paper out of the station register, sits down and writes.) Sic transit. . . . two drachms . . . Gloria mundi⁶. . . one ounce . . . Aquae destillatae⁷. . two grains . . . Now you’ll take these powders, three times a day.

GUSEV. In water or in wine?

ZAITSEV. In water . . .

GUSEV. Boiled?

ZAITSEV. Yes, boiled.

GUSEV. I am truly grateful to you, doctor . . .

VARIANTS TO

The Eve of the Trial

Variants come from a manuscript rough draft.

page 727 / Before: You loaded, boy? — My little fool, you’re such a butterball . . .

page 728 / After: I’ve got to admit I like nothing better than a roadside fling — A little romance, a little affair, adultery . . .

page 728 / After: The bedbugs are about to eat me alive! — A line starts: It won’t be the bedbugs . . .

page 731 / After: Introverted, just like me . . . — A line starts: I love virtue

NOTES

1 Joke names: Mr. Goose and Mr. Hare.

2 Way stations set up by the government, where travelers could change horses and rest for the night. Postal couriers had first call on horses, so stays in posting stations were usually long and uncomfortable.

3 Joke name from cheprak, saddle-cloth.

4 A reference to the opening line of V. A. Sollogub’s poetic improvisation of the 1860s, which became a catchphrase.

5 In Russian, the pun is on entsiklopediya and klop (bedbug).

6 Latin proverb, So passes the glory of the world.

7 Latin: distilled water.