I. Out of all the places I could be right now, I would never choose this one, but I’m here and I can’t go back to the University, so I suppose I’m stuck for the moment. At any rate, that sycophant Ilyich and that simpering pathetic spineless Vanya along with the rest of those never-had-beens have been taking adequate care of the place. That doctor fellow seems crafty, there’s some vague glimmer of μῆτις back there behind those eyes. But I’m probably thinking too much of it. At least the views are wonderful. Now where is Yelena–where could she have gone?…
I just returned from a lovely walk. I hope Sonya dear doesn’t actually make me go to the forest; I don’t think my legs can take another minute of perambulation. There’s not much else to do around here, though, unfortunately.
II. My leg hurts like hell. What is this pain? Has to be rheumatism. I just feel like nobody cares at all for me, even though I’m the reason they have any livelihood in the first place–they have jobs because of me, they have a place to live because I haven’t decided to kick them out yet. And Yelena, my WIFE, doesn’t give a damn. I understand that I’m an old man, but I’m not that disgusting yet. I still have some life left in me, and my mind is as sharp as ever. So why doesn’t she care that I’m in agony? My leg is killing me, I am miserable, and no one understands any of it! At least Nanny cares; that’s something. Better than nothing, anyway. Damn that linden tea.
we cannot call a mortal being happy before he’s passed beyond life
III. It’s become clear to me that Yelena and I are too refined to continue living in the country like disgusting plebeians. Of course, I can’t tell them that, they simply wouldn’t understand that while their place may be in this pathetic uneducated country, mine is elsewhere. So I will propose my idea to them, and they will nod their heads and slur out something about “oh that sounds good let’s drink more vodka” and then that will be that. Sonya, the sweetheart, will agree to it because to be honest, she’s not pretty or bright, so what else does she have but to go along with my plans? If it were otherwise, she might have some leverage, but I’m not marrying her off anytime soon, so she is useful to me insofar as she is connected to the estate. Yes, yes, I love her. Don’t look at me like that. I love her, but I love myself. If any man says he loves another over himself, he is a liar. I’m simply not a liar. And she got herself into this mess anyway. Perhaps at least she’ll have had the foresight to save something up aside from what she was sending to me.
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i can hardly write my hands are shaking but i have to get this down in case things go south and i need to recall////that halfwit vanya just lost his mind blame me for xy and z saying he could’ve been this and that and [REDACTED] my fault he turned himself into a wage slave and then out of nowhere as i’m trying to calm him down and REASON with him he pulls out a gun and fires@me–[REDACTED] he’s tried to KILL me completely unacceptable we cannot be around each other any longer but i won’t have him arrested that does me no good i’ll leave him to rot [REDACTED] spin his life out on my floor and he’ll thank me for the opportunity i swear it
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i have had enough of this
IV. I apologize for the previous chicken scratch. Desperate times and all that, you know. And the day has arrived in which Yelena and I shall leave. Finally I shall be on my way and I can continue my writing and my research in peace and comfort, as is correct for a professor of my dignified status. Despite my loathing for the lot of them, I do think I shall miss them, in a strange sort of way. Entirely unwarranted, but I shall. They were curious company for the most part, at any rate. And I believe I will leave them with an excellent memory of me, despite the unfortunate incidents that have occurred during my time here. So here we go, wide smile, big voice, happy, happy, happy–one last time and then I’m free.
–His Excellency.
PLW
At last, the Professor is writing his autobiography! Won’t Vanya be pleased, though I doubt he’ll buy a copy.
This is both a thankless and utter hoot of a role — the man we all must hate . When else does one have the opportunity to play someone so immersed in their own sense of certainty and importance. Of course the whole family is to blame for his behavior. Sonya says that “success with women spoiled” you but the fact that Vanya (esp.) seems to have had his eyes opened about your work and position for quite some time (at least a year or two it seems) and grouses behind your back instead of speaking to you directly, illustrates how much the other characters facilitate even flatter your illusions of grandeur.
I was struck, reading Rory’s Waffles autobiography that alludes (as you do in the play) to a time where you and he and Vanya talked together as friends. Now that Waffles’ tends to idealized, I know, but there’s also a mention of a “former friendship” between you and Vanya. Was that an actual thing? Reading this post it seems hard to fathom that you ever saw Vanya as someone worthy of friendship, but certainly you might have feigned more interest in the past when you needed something from him (the forfeiture of his inheritance, perhaps?). And the Professor seems resoundingly unsentimental. If I’m remembering correctly, HE never mentions his first wife; she’s always brought up by others. Now since he’s married to someone else this might be a strategic choices but I wonder.
He’s like that person who constantly complains about how no one appreciates him but then never does anything for anyone else that would earn appreciation. And we’ve all known folks like these. That’s what makes that final pronouncement before he leaves the most wonderfully galling moment in the play, the moment where HE becomes the “clown.” Certainly, a different kind of clown than Waffles but a clown nonetheless. The clown that comes to a party, uninvited, complains about the food, the guests, makes a mess, offends everyone and then, upon his exit, thanks the now ruined group for a “Wonderful time”. While we might dream of some cosmic comeuppance finding him in the near future, I’ve got a funny feeling that he might outlive, in relative comfort, everyone else in the play.
Jules