A. Griboedov "Woe from Wit": description, characters, comedy analysis

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Alexander Griboyedov
Woe from mind

A Million Torments (Critical Study)
I. A. Goncharov

“Woe from Wit” by Griboyedov. – Monakhov’s benefit performance, November, 1871

The comedy “Woe from Wit” stands out somehow in literature and is distinguished by its youthfulness, freshness and stronger vitality from other works of the word. She is like a hundred-year-old man, around whom everyone, having lived out their time in turn, dies and lies down, and he walks, vigorous and fresh, between the graves of old people and the cradles of new people. And it never occurs to anyone that someday his turn will come.

All celebrities of the first magnitude, of course, were not admitted to the so-called “temple of immortality” for nothing. They all have a lot, and others, like Pushkin, for example, have much more rights to longevity than Griboyedov. They cannot be close and placed one with the other. Pushkin is huge, fruitful, strong, rich. He is for Russian art what Lomonosov is for Russian enlightenment in general. Pushkin took over his entire era, he himself created another, gave birth to schools of artists - he took everything in his era, except what Griboyedov managed to take and what Pushkin did not agree on.

Despite Pushkin's genius, his leading heroes, like the heroes of his century, are already turning pale and becoming a thing of the past. His brilliant creations, continuing to serve as models and sources of art, themselves become history. We have studied Onegin, his time and his environment, weighed and determined the meaning of this type, but we no longer find living traces of this personality in the modern century, although the creation of this type will remain indelible in literature. Even the later heroes of the century, for example, Lermontov's Pechorin, representing, like Onegin, his era, however, turn to stone in immobility, like statues on graves. We are not talking about their more or less bright types who appeared later, who managed to go to the grave during the authors’ lifetime, leaving behind some rights to literary memory.

Called immortal the comedy “The Minor” by Fonvizin - and thoroughly - its lively, hot period lasted about half a century: this is enormous for a work of words. But now there is not a single hint in “The Minor” of living life, and the comedy, having served its purpose, has turned into a historical monument.

“Woe from Wit” appeared before Onegin, Pechorin, outlived them, passed unscathed through the Gogol period, lived these half a century from the time of its appearance and still lives its imperishable life, will survive many more eras and will not lose its vitality.

Why is this, and what is this “Woe from Wit” anyway?

Criticism did not move the comedy from the place it had once occupied, as if at a loss as to where to place it. The oral assessment was ahead of the printed one, just as the play itself was long ahead of the printing. But the literate masses actually appreciated it. Immediately realizing its beauty and not finding any flaws, she tore the manuscript into pieces, into verses, half-verses, spread all the salt and wisdom of the play into colloquial speech, as if she had turned a million into ten-kopeck pieces, and so peppered the conversation with Griboyedov’s sayings that she literally wore out the comedy to the point of satiety. .

But the play passed this test too - and not only did it not become vulgar, but it seemed to become dearer to readers, it found in each of them a patron, a critic and a friend, like Krylov’s fables, which did not lose their literary power, having passed from the book into living speech.

Printed criticism has always treated with more or less severity only the stage performance of the play, touching little on the comedy itself or expressing itself in fragmentary, incomplete and contradictory reviews. It was decided once and for all that the comedy was an exemplary work - and with that everyone made peace.

What should an actor do when thinking about his role in this play? To rely on one’s own judgment alone will not suffice for any pride, and to listen to the talk of public opinion after forty years is impossible without getting lost in petty analysis. It remains, from the countless chorus of opinions expressed and expressed, to dwell on some general conclusions, most often repeated, and build your own assessment plan on them.

Some value in comedy a picture of Moscow morals of a certain era, the creation of living types and their skillful grouping. The whole play seems to be a circle of faces familiar to the reader, and, moreover, as definite and closed as a deck of cards. The faces of Famusov, Molchalin, Skalozub and others were etched into the memory as firmly as kings, jacks and queens in cards, and everyone had a more or less consistent concept of all the faces, except for one - Chatsky. So they are all drawn correctly and strictly, and so they have become familiar to everyone. Only about Chatsky many are perplexed: what is he? It's like he's the fifty-third mysterious card in the deck. If there was little disagreement in the understanding of other people, then about Chatsky, on the contrary, the differences have not ended yet and, perhaps, will not end for a long time.

Others, giving justice to the picture of morals, the fidelity of types, value the more epigrammatic salt of language, living satire - morality, with which the play still, like an inexhaustible well, supplies everyone at every everyday step of life.

But both connoisseurs almost pass over in silence the “comedy” itself, the action, and many even deny it conventional stage movement.

Despite this, however, every time the personnel in the roles changes, both judges go to the theater, and again lively talk arises about the performance of this or that role and about the roles themselves, as if in a new play.

All these various impressions and everyone’s own point of view based on them serve as the best definition of the play, that is, that the comedy “Woe from Wit” is both a picture of morals, and a gallery of living types, and an ever-sharp, searing satire, and together with that is why it is a comedy and, let’s say for ourselves, most of all a comedy – which can hardly be found in other literatures, if we accept the totality of all the other stated conditions. As a painting, it is, without a doubt, enormous. Her canvas captures a long period of Russian life - from Catherine to Emperor Nicholas. The group of twenty faces reflected, like a ray of light in a drop of water, the entire former Moscow, its design, its spirit at that time, its historical moment and morals. And this with such artistic, objective completeness and certainty that only Pushkin and Gogol were given in our country.

In a picture where there is not a single pale spot, not a single extraneous stroke or sound, the viewer and reader feel even now, in our era, among living people. Both the general and the details, all this was not composed, but was entirely taken from Moscow living rooms and transferred to the book and to the stage, with all the warmth and with all the “special imprint” of Moscow - from Famusov to the smallest touches, to Prince Tugoukhovsky and to the footman Parsley, without which the picture would not be complete.

However, for us it is not yet a completely completed historical picture: we have not moved away from the era at a sufficient distance for an impassable abyss to lie between it and our time. The coloring was not smoothed out at all; the century has not separated from ours, like a cut-off piece: we have inherited something from there, although the Famusovs, Molchalins, Zagoretskys and others have changed so that they no longer fit into the skin of Griboyedov’s types. The harsh features have become obsolete, of course: no Famusov will now invite Maxim Petrovich to be a jester and hold up Maxim Petrovich as an example, at least not in such a positive and obvious way. Molchalin, even in front of the maid, quietly, now does not confess to those commandments that his father bequeathed to him; such a Skalozub, such a Zagoretsky are impossible even in a distant outback. But as long as there will be a desire for honors apart from merit, as long as there will be masters and hunters to please and “take rewards and live happily,” while gossip, idleness, and emptiness will dominate not as vices, but as elements of social life - so long, of course , the features of the Famusovs, Molchalins and others will flash in modern society, there is no need that that “special imprint” of which Famusov was proud has been erased from Moscow itself.

Universal human models, of course, always remain, although they also turn into types unrecognizable due to temporary changes, so that, to replace the old, artists sometimes have to update, after long periods, the basic features of morals and human nature in general that once appeared in images , clothing them with new flesh and blood in the spirit of their time. Tartuffe, of course, is an eternal type, Falstaff is an eternal character, but both of them, and many still famous similar prototypes of passions, vices, etc., disappearing in the fog of antiquity, almost lost their living image and turned into an idea, into a conventional concept, a common name for vice, and for us they no longer serve as a living lesson, but as a portrait of a historical gallery.

This can especially be attributed to Griboyedov’s comedy. In it, the local coloring is too bright and the designation of the characters themselves is so strictly outlined and furnished with such reality of details that universal human traits can hardly stand out from under social positions, ranks, costumes, etc.

As a picture of modern morals, the comedy “Woe from Wit” was partly an anachronism even when it appeared on the Moscow stage in the thirties. Already Shchepkin, Mochalov, Lvova-Sinetskaya, Lensky, Orlov and Saburov played not from life, but according to fresh legend. And then the sharp strokes began to disappear. Chatsky himself thunders against the “past century” when the comedy was written, and it was written between 1815 and 1820.

How to compare and see (he says)
This century and this century past,
The legend is fresh, but hard to believe,

and about his time he expresses himself like this:

Now everyone breathes more freely,

Scolded your forever I am merciless, -

he says to Famusov.

Consequently, now only a little of the local color remains: passion for rank, sycophancy, emptiness. But with some reforms, the ranks can move away, sycophancy to the extent of servility of the Molchalinsky is already hiding in the darkness, and the poetry of the frunt has given way to a strict and rational direction in military affairs.

But there are still some living traces, and they still prevent the painting from turning into a completed historical bas-relief. This future is still far ahead of her.

Salt, an epigram, a satire, this colloquial verse, it seems, will never die, just like the sharp and caustic, living Russian mind scattered in them, which Griboedov imprisoned, like some kind of spirit wizard, in his castle, and he scatters there with evil with fur. It is impossible to imagine that another, more natural, simpler, more taken from life speech could ever appear. Prose and verse merged here into something inseparable, then, it seems, so that it would be easier to retain them in memory and put into circulation again all the intelligence, humor, jokes and anger of the Russian mind and language collected by the author. This language was given to the author in the same way as a group of these individuals was given, as the main meaning of the comedy was given, as everything was given together, as if it poured out at once, and everything formed an extraordinary comedy - both in the narrow sense, like a stage play, and in the broad sense, like a comedy life. It couldn't have been anything else but a comedy.

Leaving aside the two main aspects of the play, which so clearly speak for themselves and therefore have the majority of admirers - that is, the picture of the era, with a group of living portraits, and the salt of the language - let us first turn to comedy as a stage play, then as comedy in general, to its general meaning, to its main reason in social and literary significance, and finally, let’s talk about its performance on stage.

We have long been accustomed to saying that there is no movement, that is, no action in a play. How is there no movement? There is - living, continuous, from Chatsky’s first appearance on stage to his last word: “Carriage for me, carriage!”

This is a subtle, intelligent, elegant and passionate comedy, in a close, technical sense, true in small psychological details, but almost elusive for the viewer, because it is disguised by the typical faces of the heroes, ingenious drawing, the color of the place, the era, the charm of the language, with all the poetic forces spilled so abundantly in the play. The action, that is, the actual intrigue in it, in front of these capital aspects seems pale, superfluous, almost unnecessary.

Only when driving around in the entryway does the viewer seem to awaken to the unexpected catastrophe that has broken out between the main characters, and suddenly remember the comedy-intrigue. But even then not for long. The enormous, real meaning of comedy is already growing before him.

The main role, of course, is the role of Chatsky, without which there would be no comedy, but, perhaps, there would be a picture of morals.

Griboyedov himself attributed Chatsky's grief to his mind, but Pushkin denied him any mind at all.

One would think that Griboyedov, out of fatherly love for his hero, flattered him in the title, as if warning the reader that his hero is smart, and everyone else around him is not smart.

But Chatsky is not only smarter than all other people, but also positively smart. His speech is full of intelligence and wit.

Both Onegin and Pechorin turned out to be incapable of action, of an active role, although both vaguely understood that everything around them had decayed. They were even “embarrassed”, carried “discontent” within themselves and wandered around like shadows with “yearning laziness.” But, despising the emptiness of life, the idle lordship, they succumbed to it and did not think of either fighting it or fleeing completely. Dissatisfaction and bitterness did not prevent Onegin from being a dandy, “shine” both in the theater, and at a ball, and in a fashionable restaurant, flirting with girls and seriously courting them in marriage, and Pechorin from shining with interesting boredom and plunging his laziness and bitterness between Princess Mary and Beloy, and then pretend to be indifferent to them in front of the stupid Maxim Maksimych: this indifference was considered the quintessence of Don Juanism. Both were languishing, suffocating in their environment and did not know what to want. Onegin tried to read, but yawned and gave up, because he and Pechorin were familiar only with the science of “tender passion,” and for everything else they learned “something and somehow” - and they had nothing to do.

Chatsky, apparently, on the contrary, was seriously preparing for activity. “He writes and translates well,” Famusov says about him, and everyone talks about his high intelligence. He, of course, traveled for good reason, studied, read, apparently got down to work, had relations with ministers and separated - it’s not difficult to guess why:

I would be glad to serve, but being served is sickening, -

he hints himself. There is no mention of “yearning laziness, idle boredom,” and even less of “tender passion,” as a science and an occupation. He loves seriously, seeing Sophia as his future wife.

Meanwhile, Chatsky had to drink the bitter cup to the bottom - not finding “living sympathy” in anyone, and leaving, taking with him only “a million torments.”

Neither Onegin nor Pechorin would have acted so foolishly in general, especially in the matter of love and matchmaking. But they have already turned pale and turned into stone statues for us, and Chatsky remains and will always remain alive for this “stupidity” of his.

The reader remembers, of course, everything that Chatsky did. Let us slightly trace the course of the play and try to highlight from it the dramatic interest of the comedy, the movement that runs through the entire play, like an invisible but living thread connecting all the parts and faces of the comedy with each other.

Chatsky runs to Sophia, straight from the road carriage, without stopping by his place, passionately kisses her hand, looks into her eyes, rejoices at the date, hoping to find an answer to his old feeling - and does not find it. He was struck by two changes: she became unusually prettier and cooled off towards him - also unusual.

This puzzled him, upset him, and a little irritated him. In vain he tries to sprinkle the salt of humor into his conversation, partly playing with this strength of his, which, of course, was what Sophia liked before when she loved him - partly under the influence of annoyance and disappointment. Everyone gets it, he went through everyone - from Sophia’s father to Molchalin - and with what apt features he draws Moscow - and how many of these poems have gone into living speech! But everything is in vain: tender memories, witticisms - nothing helps. He suffers nothing but coldness from her until, caustically touching Molchalin, he touched her too. She already asks him with hidden anger whether he happened to even accidentally “say kind things about someone,” and disappears at her father’s entrance, betraying Chatsky to the latter almost with her head, that is, declaring him the hero of the dream told to his father before.

From that moment on, a hot duel ensued between her and Chatsky, the most lively action, a comedy in the close sense, in which two people, Molchalin and Liza, take a close part.

Every step of Chatsky, almost every word in the play is closely connected with the play of his feelings for Sophia, irritated by some kind of lie in her actions, which he struggles to unravel until the very end. His whole mind and all his strength go into this struggle: it served as a motive, a reason for irritation, for that “millions of torments”, under the influence of which he could only play the role indicated to him by Griboyedov, a role of much greater, higher significance than unsuccessful love , in a word, the role for which the whole comedy was born.

Chatsky hardly notices Famusov, coldly and absentmindedly answers his question, where have you been? “Do I care now?” - he says and, promising to come again, leaves, saying from what is absorbing him:

How Sofya Pavlovna has become prettier for you!

On his second visit, he starts talking again about Sofya Pavlovna. “Isn’t she sick? did she experience any sadness? - and to such an extent he is overwhelmed and fueled by the feeling of her blossoming beauty and her coldness towards him that when asked by his father if he wants to marry her, he absent-mindedly asks: “What do you want?” And then indifferently, only out of decency, he adds:

Let me woo you, what would you tell me?

And almost without listening to the answer, he sluggishly remarks on the advice to “serve”:

I would be glad to serve, but being served is sickening!

He came to Moscow and to Famusov, obviously for Sophia and to Sophia alone. He doesn't care about others; Even now he is annoyed that, instead of her, he found only Famusov. “How could she not be here?” - he asks himself, remembering his former youthful love, which “neither distance, nor entertainment, nor change of places” cooled in him - and he is tormented by its coldness.

He is bored and talking with Famusov - and only Famusov’s positive challenge to an argument brings Chatsky out of his concentration.

That's it, you are all proud:
If only we could see what our fathers did

says Famusov and then draws such a crude and ugly picture of servility that Chatsky could not stand it and, in turn, made a parallel between the “past” century and the “present” century.

But his irritation is still restrained: he seems ashamed of himself that he decided to sober Famusov from his concepts; he hastens to insert that “he’s not talking about his uncle,” whom Famusov cited as an example, and even invites the latter to scold his age; finally, he tries in every possible way to hush up the conversation, seeing how Famusov has covered his ears, he calms him down, almost apologizes.

It’s not my desire to prolong arguments, -

he says. He is ready to enter himself again. But he is awakened by Famusov’s unexpected hint about a rumor about Skalozub’s matchmaking.

It’s as if he’s marrying Sofyushka... etc.

Chatsky perked up his ears.

How he fusses, what agility!

“And Sophia? Isn’t there really a groom here?” - he says, and although then he adds:

Ah - tell love the end,
Who will go away for three years! -

but he himself still does not believe it, following the example of all lovers, until this love axiom was played out over him to the end.

Famusov confirms his hint about Skalozub’s marriage, imposing on the latter the thought of “the general’s wife,” and almost obviously invites him to matchmaking.

These hints about marriage aroused Chatsky’s suspicions about the reasons for Sophia’s change towards him. He even agreed to Famusov’s request to give up “false ideas” and remain silent in front of the guest. But the irritation was already crescendo 1
Increasing ( italian.).

And he intervened in the conversation, casually for now, and then, annoyed by Famusov’s awkward praise of his intelligence and so on, he raised his tone and resolved himself with a sharp monologue:

“Who are the judges?” etc. Here another struggle begins, an important and serious one, a whole battle. Here, in a few words, the main motive is heard, as in an opera overture, and the true meaning and purpose of the comedy is hinted at. Both Famusov and Chatsky threw down the gauntlet to each other:

If only we could see what our fathers did
You should learn by looking at your elders! -

Famusov's military cry was heard. Who are these elders and “judges”?

...For the decrepitude of years
Their enmity towards a free life is irreconcilable, -

Chatsky answers and executes -

The meanest features of the past life.

Two camps were formed, or, on the one hand, a whole camp of the Famusovs and the entire brethren of “fathers and elders,” on the other, one ardent and brave fighter, “the enemy of quest.” This is a struggle for life and death, a struggle for existence, as the newest naturalists define the natural succession of generations in the animal world. Famusov wants to be an “ace” - “eat on silver and gold, ride in a train, covered in orders, be rich and see children rich, in ranks, in orders and with a key” - and so on endlessly, and all this just for that , that he signs papers without reading and is afraid of one thing, “so that a lot of them do not accumulate.”

Chatsky strives for a “free life”, “to pursue” science and art and demands “service to the cause, not to individuals,” etc. On whose side is victory? Comedy gives Chatsky only “ a million torments"and leaves, apparently, Famusov and his brethren in the same position in which they were, without saying anything about the consequences of the struggle.

We now know these consequences. They were revealed with the advent of comedy, still in manuscript, in the world - and as an epidemic swept across all of Russia.

Meanwhile, the intrigue of love runs its course, correctly, with subtle psychological fidelity, which in any other play, devoid of other colossal Griboyedov beauties, could make a name for the author.

Sophia's fainting when Molchalin fell from his horse, her sympathy for him, which was so carelessly expressed, Chatsky's new sarcasms about Molchalin - all this complicated the action and formed the main point here, which was called the plot in the poems. Here the dramatic interest was concentrated. Chatsky almost guessed the truth.

Confusion, fainting, haste, anger, fear!

(on the occasion of Molchalin’s fall from his horse) -

You can feel all this
When you lose your only friend,

he says and leaves in great excitement, in the throes of suspicion of the two rivals.

In the third act, he gets to the ball before everyone else, with the goal of “forcing a confession” from Sophia - and with trembling impatience he gets down to business directly with the question: “Who does she love?”

After an evasive answer, she admits that she prefers his “others.” It seems clear. He sees this himself and even says:

And what do I want when everything is decided?
It’s a noose for me, but it’s funny for her!

However, he climbs in, like all lovers, despite his “intelligence,” and is already weakening in front of her indifference. He throws a useless weapon against a happy opponent - a direct attack on him, and condescends to pretend.

Once in my life I'll pretend, -

he decides - in order to “solve the riddle”, but actually in order to hold Sophia when she rushed away at the new arrow fired at Molchalin. This is not pretense, but a concession with which he wants to beg for something that cannot be begged for - love when there is none. In his speech one can already hear a pleading tone, gentle reproaches, complaints:

But does he have that passion, that feeling,
that ardor...
So that, besides you, he has the whole world
Did it seem like dust and vanity?
So that every beat of the heart
Love accelerated towards you... -

he says, and finally:

To make me more indifferent to the loss,
As a person - you, who grew up with you,
As your friend, as your brother,
Let me make sure...

These are already tears. He touches serious strings of feeling -

I can beware of madness
I’m going to go further to catch a cold, get cold... -

he concludes. Then all that was left was to fall to my knees and sob. The remnants of his mind save him from useless humiliation.

Such a masterful scene, expressed in such verses, is hardly represented by any other dramatic work. It is impossible to express a feeling more noblely and soberly, as it was expressed by Chatsky, it is impossible to extricate oneself from a trap more subtly and gracefully, as Sofya Pavlovna extricates oneself. Only Pushkin's scenes of Onegin and Tatyana resemble these subtle features of intelligent natures.

Sophia managed to completely get rid of Chatsky’s new suspicion, but she herself became carried away by her love for Molchalin and almost ruined the whole matter by expressing her love almost openly. To Chatsky’s question:

Why did you get to know him (Molchalin) so briefly?

she answers:

I didn't try! God brought us together.

This is enough to open the eyes of the blind. But Molchalin himself saved her, that is, his insignificance. In her enthusiasm, she hastened to draw his full-length portrait, perhaps in the hope of reconciling not only herself, but also others, even Chatsky, with this love, not noticing how the portrait turned out vulgar:

Look, he gained the friendship of everyone in the house.
Serves under the priest for three years;
He is often pointlessly angry,
And he will disarm him with silence,
From the kindness of his soul he will forgive.
And, by the way,
I could look for fun, -
Not at all, the old people won’t set foot outside the threshold!
We are frolicking and laughing;
He'll sit with them all day, whether he's happy or not
Playing...

Of the most wonderful quality...
He is finally: compliant, modest, quiet,
And there are no wrongdoings in my soul;
He doesn’t cut strangers at random.
That's why I love him!

Chatsky’s doubts were dispelled:

She doesn't respect him!
He's being naughty, she doesn't love him.
She doesn't give a damn about him! -

he consoles himself with each of her praises to Molchalin and then grabs onto Skalozub. But her answer - that he was “not the hero of her novel” - destroyed these doubts too. He leaves her without jealousy, but in thought, saying:

Who will unravel you!

He himself did not believe in the possibility of such rivals, but now he is convinced of it. But his hopes for reciprocity, which had until now passionately worried him, were completely shaken, especially when she did not agree to stay with him under the pretext that “the tongs would get cold,” and then, when she asked him to let him come into her room, with a new barb on Molchalin, she slipped away from him and locked herself in.

He felt that the main goal of returning to Moscow had betrayed him, and he left Sophia with sadness. He, as he later confesses in the entryway, from that moment on only suspects in her coldness towards everything - and after this scene the fainting itself was attributed not “to signs of living passions,” as before, but to “a quirk of spoiled nerves.”

His next scene with Molchalin, which fully describes the latter’s character, confirms Chatsky definitively that Sophia does not love this rival.

The liar laughed at me! -

he notices and goes to meet new faces.

The comedy between him and Sophia ended; The burning irritation of jealousy subsided, and the coldness of hopelessness entered his soul.

All he had to do was leave; but another, lively, lively comedy invades the stage, several new perspectives of Moscow life open up at once, which not only displace Chatsky’s intrigue from the viewer’s memory, but Chatsky himself seems to forget about it and gets in the way of the crowd. New faces group around him and play, each their own role. This is a ball, with all the Moscow atmosphere, with a series of lively stage sketches, in which each group forms its own separate comedy, with a complete outline of the characters, who managed to play out in a few words into a complete action.

Isn’t the Gorichevs playing a complete comedy? This husband, recently still a cheerful and lively man, is now degraded, clothed, as in a robe, in Moscow life, a gentleman, “a boy-husband, a servant-husband, the ideal of Moscow husbands,” according to Chatsky’s apt definition, - under the shoe of a cloying, cutesy , socialite wife, Moscow lady?

And these six princesses and the countess-granddaughter - this whole contingent of brides, “who know how,” according to Famusov, “to dress themselves up with taffeta, marigold and haze,” “singing the top notes and clinging to military people”?

This Khlestova, a remnant of Catherine’s century, with a pug, with a blackamoor girl, - this princess and prince Peter Ilyich - without a word, but such a talking ruin of the past; Zagoretsky, an obvious swindler, escaping from prison in the best living rooms and paying off with servility, like dog diarrhea - and these NNs, and all their talk, and all the content that occupies them!

The influx of these faces is so abundant, their portraits are so vivid that the viewer becomes cold to the intrigue, not having time to catch these quick sketches of new faces and listen to their original conversation.

Chatsky is no longer on stage. But before leaving, he gave abundant food to that main comedy that began with Famusov, in the first act, then with Molchalin - that battle with all of Moscow, where, according to the author’s goals, he came for this.

In brief, even instant meetings with old acquaintances, he managed to arm everyone against him with caustic remarks and sarcasms. He is already vividly affected by all sorts of trifles - and he gives free rein to his tongue. He angered the old woman Khlestova, gave some inappropriate advice to Gorichev, abruptly cut off the countess-granddaughter and again offended Molchalin.

But the cup overflowed. He leaves the back rooms completely upset and, out of old friendship, again goes to Sophia in the crowd, hoping for at least simple sympathy. He confides in her his state of mind:

A million torments! -

he says:

he complains to her, not suspecting what conspiracy has matured against him in the enemy camp.

“A million torments” and “woe!” - this is what he reaped for everything he managed to sow. Until now he had been invincible: his mind mercilessly struck the sore spots of his enemies. Famusov finds nothing but to cover his ears against his logic, and shoots back with commonplaces of the old morality. Molchalin falls silent, the princesses and countesses back away from him, burned by the nettles of his laughter, and his former friend, Sophia, whom he spares alone, dissembles, slips and deals him the main blow on the sly, declaring him at hand, casually, crazy.

A. S. Griboyedov

"Woe from Wit"

Comedy in four acts in verse

CHARACTERS:

Pavel Afanasyevich Famusov, manager at the government office
Sofya Pavlovna, his daughter.
Lizanka, maid.
Alexey Stepanovich Molchalin, Famusov’s secretary, living in his house.
Alexander Andreevich Chatsky.
Colonel Skalozub, Sergei Sergeevich.
Natalya Dmitrievna, a young lady, Platon Mikhailovich, her husband, Gorichi.
Prince Tugoukhovsky and Princess, his wife, with six daughters.
Countess grandmother, Countess granddaughter, - Khryumins.
Anton Antonovich Zagoretsky.
Old woman Khlestova, sister-in-law of Famusov.
G.N.
G.D.
Repetilov.
Parsley and several talking servants.
Lots of guests of all sorts and their lackeys on their way out.
Famusov's waiters.

Action in Moscow in Famusov's house

*ACT I*

PHENOMENON 1

Living room, there is a large clock in it, on the right is the door to Sofia’s bedroom, from where
you can hear the piano and flute, which then fall silent. Lick in the middle of the room
sleeps, hanging from the chair. (Morning, the day is just dawning)

Lizanka (suddenly wakes up, gets up from her chair, looks around)

It's getting light!.. Ah! how quickly the night has passed!
Yesterday I asked to sleep - refusal,
"Waiting for a friend." - You need an eye and an eye,
Don't sleep until you roll out of your chair.
Now I just took a nap,
It’s already day!.. tell them...

(Knocks on Sofia's door.)

Gentlemen,
Hey! Sofya Pavlovna, trouble.
Your conversation went on overnight;
Are you deaf? - Alexey Stepanych!
Madam!..- And fear does not take them!

(Moves away from the door.)

Well, uninvited guest,
Perhaps Father will come in!
I ask you to serve the young lady in love!

(Back to the door)

Yes, disperse. Morning. - What, sir?

What time is it now?

Lizanka

Everything in the house rose.

Sofia (from her room)

What time is it now?

Lizanka

Seventh, eighth, ninth.

Sofia (from the same place)

Not true.

Lizanka (away from the door)

Oh! Damn Cupid!
And they hear, they don’t want to understand,
Well, why would they take away the shutters?
I'll change the clock, at least I know: there will be a race,
I'll make them play.

(Climbs onto a chair, moves the hand, the clock strikes and plays.)

PHENOMENON 2

Lisa and Famusov.

Oh! master!

Famusov

Master, yes.

(Stops hour-long music)

After all, what a naughty girl you are.
I couldn’t figure out what kind of trouble this was!
Now you hear a flute, now it’s like a piano;
Would it be too early for Sophia??

No, sir, I... just by chance...

Famusov

Just by chance, take notice of you;
Yes, that's right, with intent.

(He presses closer to her and flirts)

Oh! potion, spoiler.

You are a spoiler, these faces suit you!

Famusov

Modest, but nothing else
Mischief and the wind are on your mind.

Let me in, you little windbags,
Come to your senses, you are old...

Famusov

Well, who will come, where are we going?

Famusov

Who should come here?
After all, Sophia is sleeping?

Now I'm taking a nap.

Famusov

Now! And the night?

I spent the whole night reading.

Famusov

Look, what whims have developed!

Everything is in French, out loud, reads while locked.

Famusov

Tell me that it’s not good to spoil her eyes,
And reading is of little use:
She can't sleep from French books,
And the Russians make it hard for me to sleep.

I'll report what happens,
If you please go, wake me up, I'm afraid.

Famusov

What to wake up? You wind the watch yourself,
You're blasting a symphony throughout the entire block.

Lisa (as loud as possible)

Come on, sir!

Famusov (clamps her mouth)

Have mercy on the way you scream.
Are you going crazy?

I'm afraid it won't work out...

Famusov

It's time, sir, for you to know that you are not a child;
Girls' morning sleep is so thin;
You creak the door a little, you whisper a little:
Everyone can hear...

Famusov

Hey Lisa!

Famusov (hurriedly)

(He sneaks out of the room on tiptoe.)

Lisa (alone)

Gone... Ah! away from the gentlemen;
They have troubles prepared for themselves at every hour,
Pass us away more than all sorrows
And lordly anger, and lordly love.

PHENOMENON 3

Lisa, Sofia with a candle, followed by Molchalin.

What, Lisa, attacked you?
You're making noise...

Of course, it’s hard for you to break up?
Locked up until daylight, and it seems like everything is not enough?

Ah, it really is dawn!

(Puts out the candle.)

Both light and sadness. How fast the nights are!

Push, know that there is no urine from the outside,
Your father came here, I froze;
I spun around in front of him, I don’t remember that I was lying;
Well, what have you become? bow, sir, give it.
Come on, my heart is not in the right place;
Look at your watch, look out the window:
People have been pouring down the streets for a long time;
And in the house there is knocking, walking, sweeping and cleaning.

Happy hours are not observed.

Don't watch, your power;
And what in return for you, of course, I will get.

Sofia (to Molchalin)

Go; We'll be bored all day long.

God be with you, sir; take your hand away.

(Separates them; Molchalin runs into Famusov at the door.)

PHENOMENON 4

Sofia, Lisa, Molchalin, Famusov.

Famusov

What an opportunity! Molchalin, are you brother?

Molchalin

Famusov

Why here? and at this hour?
And Sophia!.. Hello, Sophia, how are you?
Up so early! A? for what concern?
And how did God bring you together at the wrong time?

He just came in now.

Molchalin

Now back from a walk.

Famusov

Friend. Is it possible for a walk?
Should I choose a nook further away?
And you, madam, almost jumped out of bed,
With a man! with the young one! - Something to do for a girl!
He reads tall tales all night,
And here are the fruits of these books!
And all the Kuznetsky Bridge, and the eternal French,
From there fashion comes to us, both authors and muses:
Destroyers of pockets and hearts!
When the Creator will deliver us
From their hats! caps! and stilettos! and pins!
And bookstores and biscuit shops!..

Excuse me, father, my head is spinning;
I can barely catch my breath from fear;
You deigned to run in so quickly,
I'm confused...

Famusov

Thank you humbly,
I soon ran to them!
I'm in the way! I scared!
I, Sofya Pavlovna, am upset all day long
There is no rest, I'm rushing around like crazy.
According to the position, the service is a hassle,
One pesters, another, everyone cares about me!
But was I expecting new troubles? to be deceived...

By whom, father?

Famusov

They will reproach me
That it’s no use I always scold.
Don't cry, I mean it:
Didn't they care about yours?
About education! from the cradle!
Mother died: I knew how to hire
Madame Rosier is a second mother.
I put the old gold woman under your supervision:
She was smart, had a quiet disposition, and rarely had rules.
One thing does not serve her well:
For an extra five hundred rubles a year
She allowed herself to be lured by others.
Yes, the power is not in madame.
No other sample is needed
When your father's example is in your eyes.
Look at me: I don’t boast about my build;
However, he was vigorous and fresh, and lived to see his gray hairs,
Free, widows, I am my own master...
Known for his monastic behavior!..

I dare, sir...

Famusov

Be silent!
Terrible century! Don't know what to start!
Everyone was smart beyond their years.
And especially the daughters, and good-natured people themselves.
These languages ​​were given to us!
We take tramps, both into the house and with tickets,
To teach our daughters everything, everything -
And dancing! and foam! and tenderness! and sigh!
It’s as if we are preparing them as wives for buffoons.
What are you, visitor? Why are you here, sir?
I warmed up the rootless one and brought him into my family,
He gave the rank of assessor and took him on as secretary;
Transferred to Moscow through my assistance;
And if it weren’t for me, you would be smoking in Tver.

I can’t explain your anger in any way.
He lives in the house here, what a great misfortune!
I walked into the room and ended up in another.

Famusov

Did you get in or did you want to get in?
Why are you together? It can't happen by accident.

Here's the whole case, though:
How long ago you and Lisa were here,
Your voice scared me extremely,
And I rushed here as fast as I could...

Famusov

Perhaps all the fuss will fall on me.
At the wrong time my voice alarmed them!

In a vague dream, a trifle disturbs;
Tell you a dream: then you will understand.

Famusov

What's the story?

Should I tell you?

Famusov

(Sits down.)

Let me... see... first
Flowery meadow; and I was looking
Grass
Some, I don’t remember in reality.
Suddenly a nice person, one of those we
We'll see - it's like we've known each other forever,
He appeared here with me; and insinuating and smart,
But timid... You know, who is born in poverty...

Famusov

Oh! Mother, don’t finish the blow!
Anyone who is poor is not a match for you.

Then everything disappeared: the meadows and the skies. -
We're in a dark room. To complete the miracle
The floor opened - and you are from there,
Pale as death, and hair on end!
Then the doors opened with thunder
Some are not people or animals,
We were separated - and they tortured the one sitting with me.
It’s like he’s dearer to me than all the treasures,
I want to go to him - you bring with you:
We are accompanied by moans, roars, laughter, and whistling monsters!
He shouts after him!.. -
Awoke. - Someone says -
Your voice was; what, I think it's so early?
I run here and find you both.

Famusov

Yes, it's a bad dream, I see.
Everything is there, if there is no deception:
And devils and love, and fears and flowers.
Well, my sir, what about you?

Famusov

Molchalin

With papers, sir.

Famusov

Yes! they were missing.
Have mercy that this suddenly fell
Diligence in writing!

(Rises.)

Well, Sonyushka, I will give you peace:
Some dreams are strange, but in reality they are stranger;
You were looking for some herbs,
I came across a friend quickly;
Get rid of the nonsense from your head;
Where there are miracles, there is little stock. -
Go, lie down, go to sleep again.

(Molchalin)

Let's go sort out the papers.

Molchalin

I only carried them for the report,
What cannot be used without certificates, without others,
There are contradictions, and many things are inappropriate.

Famusov

I'm afraid, sir, I'm mortally alone,
So that a multitude of them do not accumulate;
If you had given it free rein, it would have settled;
And for me, what matters and what doesn’t matter,
My custom is this:
Signed, off your shoulders.

(He leaves with Molchalin and lets him through at the door.)

PHENOMENON 5

Sofia, Lisa.

Well, here's the holiday! Well, here's some fun for you!
However, no, it’s no laughing matter now;
The eyes are dark and the soul is frozen;
Sin is not a problem, rumor is not good.

What do I need rumors? Whoever wants to, judges it that way,
Yes, father will force you to think:
Grouchy, restless, quick,
It's always been like this, but from now on...
You can judge...

I’m not judging by stories;
He forbids you, - good is still with me;
Otherwise, God have mercy, at once
Me, Molchalin and everyone out of the yard.

Just think how capricious happiness is!
It can be worse, you can get away with it;
When sad nothing comes to mind,
We lost ourselves in music, and time passed so smoothly;
Fate seemed to be protecting us;
No worries, no doubts...
And grief awaits around the corner.

That's it, sir, my stupid judgment
You never regret:
But here's the problem.
What better prophet do you need?
I kept repeating: there will be no good in love
Not forever and ever.
Like all Moscow people, your father is like this:
He would like a son-in-law with stars and ranks,
And under the stars, not everyone is rich, between us;
Well, of course, then
And money to live on, so he could give balls;
Here, for example, Colonel Skalozub:
And a golden bag, and aims to become a general.

How cute! and it's fun for me to fear
Listen about the frunt and rows;
He never uttered a smart word, -
I don’t care what goes into the water.

Yes, sir, so to speak, he is talkative, but not very cunning;
But be a military man, be a civilian, *
Who is so sensitive, and cheerful, and sharp,
Like Alexander Andreich Chatsky!
Not to confuse you;
It's been a long time, can't turn it back
And I remember...

What do you remember? He's nice
He knows how to make everyone laugh;
He chats, jokes, it’s funny to me;
You can share laughter with everyone.

But only? as if? - Shed tears,
I remember, poor thing, how he parted with you. -
Why, sir, are you crying? live laughing...
And he responded: “No wonder, Lisa, I’m crying:
Who knows what I will find when I return?
And how much I might lose!”
The poor thing seemed to know that in three years...

Listen, don’t take unnecessary liberties.
I was very windy, perhaps I acted
And I know, and I’m guilty; but where did it change?
To whom? so that they could reproach with infidelity.
Yes, it’s true that we were brought up and grew up with Chatsky:
The habit of being together every day inseparably
She bound us together with childhood friendship; but after
He moved out, he seemed bored with us,
And he rarely visited our house;
Then he pretended to be in love again,
Demanding and distressed!!.
Sharp, smart, eloquent,
I'm especially happy with friends,
He thought highly of himself...
The desire to wander attacked him,
Oh! if someone loves someone,
Why bother searching and traveling so far?

Where is it running? in what areas?
They say he was treated in sour waters,
Not from illness, tea, from boredom - more freely.

And, of course, he’s happy where the people are funnier.
The one I love is not like this:
Molchalin, ready to forget himself for others,
The enemy of insolence - always shy, timid
Someone you can spend the whole night with like that!
We are sitting, and the yard has long since turned white,
What do you think? what are you doing?

God knows
Madam, is this my business?

He will take your hand and press it to your heart,
He will sigh from the depths of his soul,
Not a free word, and so the whole night passes,
Hand in hand, and doesn’t take his eyes off me. -
Laugh! is it possible! what reason did you give
I make you laugh like that!

Me, sir?.. your aunt has now come to mind,
How a young Frenchman ran away from her house.
Darling! wanted to bury
Out of frustration, I couldn’t:
I forgot to dye my hair
And three days later she turned gray.

(Continues to laugh.)

Sofia (with sadness)

That's how they'll talk about me later.

Forgive me, really, as God is holy,
I wanted this stupid laugh
Helped to cheer you up a bit.

PHENOMENON 6

Sofia, Lisa, servant, followed by Chatsky.

Alexander Andreich Chatsky is here to see you.

(Leaves.)

PHENOMENON 7

Sofia, Lisa, Chatsky.

It's barely light on my feet! and I am at your feet.

(Kisses your hand passionately.)

Well, kiss me, weren’t you waiting? speak!
Well, for the sake of it? No? Look at my face.
Surprised? but only? here's the welcome!
It was as if no week had passed;
It feels like yesterday together
We're tired of each other;
Not a hair of love! how good they are!
And meanwhile, I won’t remember, without a soul,
I'm forty-five hours, without squinting my eyes,
More than seven hundred versts flew by - wind, storm;
And I was completely confused, and fell how many times -
And here is the reward for your exploits!

Oh! Chatsky, I am very glad to see you.

Are you for it? good morning.
However, who is sincerely happy like that?
I think this is the last thing
Chilling people and horses,
I was just amusing myself.

Here, sir, if you were outside the doors,
By God, there are not five minutes,
How we remembered you here.
Madam, tell me yourself.

Always, not just now. -
You cannot reproach me.
Whoever flashes by will open the door,
While passing through, by chance, from a stranger, from far away -
I have a question, even if I’m a sailor:
Did I meet you somewhere in the mail carriage?

Let's say so.
Blessed is he who believes, he is warm in the world! -
Oh! My God! Am I really here again?
In Moscow! you! how can we recognize you!
Where is the time? where is that innocent age,
When it used to be a long evening
You and I will appear, disappear here and there,
We play and make noise on chairs and tables.
And here is your father and madam, behind the picket;
We are in a dark corner, and it seems like we are!
Do you remember? we'll be startled by the creaking of the table, the door...

Childishness!

Yes, sir, and now,
At seventeen you blossomed beautifully,
Inimitable, and you know it,
And therefore modest, do not look at the light.
Aren't you in love? please give me an answer
Without thought, complete embarrassment.

At least someone will be embarrassed
Quick questions and a curious look...

For mercy's sake, it's not you, why be surprised?
What new will Moscow show me?
Yesterday there was a ball, and tomorrow there will be two.
He made a match - he succeeded, but he missed.
All the same sense, and the same poems in the albums.

Persecution of Moscow. What does it mean to see the light!
Where is better?

Where we are not.
Well, what about your father? all English club
An ancient, faithful member to the grave?
Has your uncle jumped back his eyelid?
And this one, what’s his name, is he Turkish or Greek?
That little black one, on crane legs,
I don't know what his name is
Wherever you turn: it’s right there,
In dining rooms and living rooms.
And three of the tabloid faces,
Who have been looking young for half a century?
They have millions of relatives, and with the help of their sisters
They will become related to all of Europe.
What about our sun? our treasure?
On the forehead is written: Theater and Masquerade;
The house is painted with greenery in the form of a grove,
He himself is fat, his artists are skinny.
At the ball, remember, we opened it together
Behind the screens, in one of the more secret rooms,
There was a man hidden and clicking the nightingale,
Singer winter weather summer.
And that consumptive one, your relatives, the enemy of books,
In the scientific committee which settled
And with a cry he demanded oaths,
So that no one knows or learns to read and write?
I am destined to see them again!
Will you get tired of living with them, and in whom you won’t find any stains?
When you wander, you return home,
And the smoke of the Fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us!

I wish I could bring you and my aunt together,
To count everyone you know.

And auntie? all girl, Minerva?
All maid of honor to Catherine the First?
Is the house full of pupils and mosquitoes?
Oh! Let's move on to education.
That now, just as in ancient times,
The regiments are busy recruiting teachers,
More in number, cheaper in price?
It’s not that they are far off in science;
In Russia, under a great fine,
We are told to recognize everyone
Historian and geographer!
Our mentor, remember his cap, robe,
Index finger, all signs of learning
How our timid minds were disturbed,
As we have been accustomed to believe since early times,
That without the Germans we have no salvation!
And Guillaume, the Frenchman, blown by the wind?
Is he not married yet?

At least on some princess
Pulcheria Andrevna, for example?

Dancemaster! is it possible!

Well, he is a gentleman.
We will be required to be with property and in rank,
And Guillaume!.. - What’s the tone here these days?
At conventions, at big ones, on parish holidays?
A confusion of languages ​​still prevails:
French with Nizhny Novgorod?

A mixture of languages?

Yes, two, you can’t live without it.

But it’s tricky to tailor one of them like yours.

At least not inflated.
Here's the news! - I'm taking advantage of the moment,
Enlivened by meeting you,
And talkative; aren't there times?
That I am more stupid than Molchalin? Where is he, by the way?
Have you not yet broken the silence of the seal?
There were songs where there were new notebooks
He sees and pesters: please write it off.
However, he will reach the known degrees,
After all, nowadays they love the dumb.

Not a man, a snake!

(Loud and forced.)

I want to ask you:
Have you ever laughed? or sad?
A mistake? did they say good things about anyone?
At least not now, but in childhood, maybe.

When is everything so soft? both tender and immature?
Why so long ago? Here's a good deed for you:
The calls are just ringing
And day and night across the snowy desert,
I rush to you, headlong.
And how do I find you? in some strict rank!
I can endure the cold for half an hour!
The face of the most holy praying mantis!.. -
And yet I love you without memory.

(A minute's silence.)

Listen, are my words really all caustic words?
And tend to harm someone?
But if so: the mind and heart are not in harmony.
I'm eccentric to another miracle
Once I laugh, then I forget:
Tell me to go into the fire: I’ll go as if for dinner.

Yes, okay - will you burn, if not?

PHENOMENON 8

Sofia, Lisa, Chatsky, Famusov.

Famusov

Here's another one!

Ah, father, sleep in hand.

(Leaves.)

Damn dream.

PHENOMENON 9

Famusov, Chatsky (looks at the door through which Sofia went out)

Famusov

Well, you threw it away!
I haven’t written two words for three years!
And it suddenly burst out as if from the clouds.

(They hug.)

Great, friend, great, brother, great.
Tell me, your tea is ready
A meeting of important news?
Sit down, announce it quickly.

(They sit down.)

Chatsky (absentmindedly)

How Sofya Pavlovna has become prettier for you!

Famusov

You young people have nothing else to do,
How to notice girlish beauty:
She said something casually, and you,
I am filled with hopes, enchanted.

Oh! No; I'm not spoiled enough by hopes.

Famusov

“A dream in your hand,” she deigned to whisper to me,
That's what you have in mind...

I? - Not at all.

Famusov

Who was she dreaming about? what's happened?

I'm not a dream teller.

Famusov

Don't believe her, everything is empty.

I believe my own eyes;
I haven’t seen you in ages, I’ll give you a subscription,
So that it would be at least a little like her!

Famusov

He's all his own. Yes, tell me in detail,
Where were you? I've been wandering for so many years!
Where from now?

Now who cares?
I wanted to travel around the whole world,
And he didn’t travel a hundredth part.

(Gets up hastily.)

Sorry; I was in a hurry to see you soon,
Didn't go home. Farewell! In one hour
When I show up, I won’t forget the slightest detail;
You first, then you tell it everywhere.

(In the door.)

How good!

(Leaves.)

PHENOMENON 10

Famusov (one)

Which of the two?
"Ah! Father, sleep in hand!"
And he says it out loud to me!
Well, my fault! What a blessing I gave to the hook!
Molchalin made me doubtful.
Now... yes, halfway out of the fire:
That beggar, that dandy friend;
He is considered a spendthrift, a tomboy,
What a commission, Creator,
To be a father to an adult daughter!

(Leaves.)

End of Act I

Woe from the mind. Act one

CHARACTERS:

Pavel Afanasyevich Famusov, manager in the state
place.
Sofya Pavlovna, his daughter.
Lizanka, maid.
Alexey Stepanovich Molchalin, Famusov’s secretary,
living in his house.
Alexander Andreevich Chatsky.
Colonel Skalozub, Sergei Sergeevich.
Natalya Dmitrievna, young lady) - Gorichi
Platon Mikhailovich, her husband)
Prince Tugoukhovsky and the princess, his wife, with six
daughters.
Countess Grandmother) - Khryumins
Countess-granddaughter)
Anton Antonovich Zagoretsky.
Old woman Khlestova, sister-in-law of Famusov.
G. N.
G. D.
Repetilov.
Parsley and several talking servants.
Lots of guests of all sorts and their lackeys on their way out.
Famusov's waiters.

Action in Moscow in Famusov's house.

ACT I

PHENOMENON 1
Living room, there is a large clock in it, on the right is the door to Sophia’s bedroom,
from where you can hear a piano and flute, which then fall silent.
Lizakanka is sleeping in the middle of the room, hanging from an armchair. (Morning, a little
the day is dawning.)

Liza nka

(suddenly wakes up, gets up from the chair, looks around)
It's getting light!.. Ah! how quickly the night has passed!
Yesterday I asked to sleep - refusal.
“Waiting for a friend.” - We need an eye and an eye,
Don't sleep until you roll out of your chair.
Now I just took a nap,
It’s already day!.. tell them...

(Knocks on Sofia's door.)
Gentlemen,
Hey! Sofya Pavlovna, trouble.
Your conversation went on overnight.
Are you deaf? - Alexey Stepanych!
Madam!..- And fear does not take them!

(Moves away from the door.)
Well, uninvited guest,
Perhaps Father will come in!
I ask you to serve the young lady in love!

(Back to the door.)
Yes, disperse. Morning. - What, sir?

(Voice of Sofia)

What time is it now?

Liza nka

Everything in the house rose.

Sofia (from her room)

What time is it now?

Liza nka

Seventh, eighth, ninth.

S o f i i (from the same place)

Not true.

Lizanka (away from the door)

Oh! Damn Cupid!
And they hear, they don’t want to understand,
Well, why would they take away the shutters?
I'll change the clock, at least I know: there will be a race,
I'll make them play.

He climbs onto a chair, moves the hand, the clock strikes and plays.

PHENOMENON 2

Liza and F a m u s o v.
Lisa

Oh! master!

F a m u s o v

Master, yes.

(Stops hour-long music)
After all, what a naughty girl you are.
I couldn’t figure out what kind of trouble this was!
Sometimes you hear a flute, sometimes like a piano;
Would it be too early for Sophia??.

No, sir, I... just by chance...

F a m u s o v

Just by chance, take notice of you;
Yes, that's right, with intent.

(He presses closer to her and flirts.)
Oh! potion, spoiler.

You are a spoiler, these faces suit you!

F a m u s o v

Modest, but nothing else
Mischief and the wind are on your mind.

Let me in, you little windbags,
Come to your senses, you are old...

F a m u s o v

Well, who will come, where are we going?

F a m u s o v

Who should come here?
After all, Sophia is sleeping?

Now I'm taking a nap.

F a m u s o v

Now! And the night?

I spent the whole night reading.

F a m u s o v

Look, what whims have developed!

Everything is in French, aloud, read while locked.

F a m u s o v

Tell me that it’s not good to spoil her eyes,
And reading is of little use:
She can't sleep from French books,
And the Russians make it hard for me to sleep.

I'll report what happens,
If you please go, wake me up, I'm afraid.

F a m u s o v

What to wake up? You wind the watch yourself,
You're blasting a symphony throughout the entire block.

Liza (as loud as possible)

Come on, sir!

F a m u s o v (covers her mouth)

Have mercy on the way you scream.
Are you going crazy?

I'm afraid it won't work out...

F a m u s o v

It's time, sir, for you to know that you are not a child;
Girls' morning sleep is so thin;
You creak the door a little, you whisper a little:
They hear everything...

F a m u s o v

You're all lying.

(Voice of Sofia)

F a m u s o v (hurriedly)

(He sneaks out of the room on tiptoe.)
Liza (one)

Gone... Ah! away from the gentlemen;
They have troubles prepared for themselves at every hour,
Pass us away more than all sorrows
And lordly anger, and lordly love.

PHENOMENON 3

Liza, Sofia with a candle, behind her is M o lchalin.
S o f i i

What, Lisa, attacked you?
You're making noise...

Of course, it’s hard for you to break up?
Having locked yourself until daylight, and it seems like everything is not enough?

Ah, it really is dawn!

(Puts out the candle.)
Both light and sadness. How fast the nights are!

Push, know that there is no urine from the outside,
Your father came here, I froze;
I spun around in front of him, I don’t remember that I was lying;
Well, what have you become? bow, sir, give it.
Come on, my heart is not in the right place;
Look at your watch, look out the window:
People have been pouring down the streets for a long time;
And in the house there is knocking, walking, sweeping and cleaning.

Happy hours are not observed.

Don't watch, your power;
And what in return for you, of course, I will get.

S o f i a (Molchalin)

Go; We'll be bored all day long.

God be with you, sir; take your hand away.

Separates them, Molchalin runs into Famusov at the door.

PHENOMENON 4

Sofia, Liza, Molchalin, F amu sov.
F a m u s o v

What an opportunity! Molchalin, are you brother?

M o l c h a l i n

F a m u s o v

Why here? and at this hour?
And Sophia!.. Hello, Sophia, how are you?
Up so early! A? for what concern?
And how did God bring you together at the wrong time?

He just came in now.

M o l c h a l i n

Now back from a walk.

F a m u s o v

Friend, is it possible for a walk?
Should I choose a nook further away?
And you, madam, almost jumped out of bed,
With a man! with a young man! - Something to do for a girl!
He reads tall tales all night,
And here are the fruits of these books!
And all the Kuznetsky Bridge, and the eternal French,
From there fashion comes to us, both authors and muses:
Destroyers of pockets and hearts!
When the Creator will deliver us
From their hats! caps! and stilettos! and pins!
And bookstores and biscuit shops!..

Excuse me, father, my head is spinning;
I can barely catch my breath from fear;
You deigned to run in so quickly,
I'm confused...

F a m u s o v

Thank you humbly,
I soon ran to them!
I'm in the way! I scared!
I, Sofya Pavlovna, am upset all day long
There is no rest, I'm rushing around like crazy.
According to the position, the service is a hassle,
One pesters, another, everyone cares about me!
But was I expecting new troubles? to be deceived...

S o f i i (through tears)

By whom, father?

F a m u s o v

They will reproach me
That it’s no use I always scold.
Don't cry, I mean it:
Didn't they care about yours?
About education! from the cradle!
Mother died: I knew how to hire
Madame Rosier is a second mother.
I put the old gold woman under your supervision:
She was smart, had a quiet disposition, and rarely had rules.
One thing does not serve her well:
For an extra five hundred rubles a year
She allowed herself to be lured by others.
Yes, the power is not in madame.
No other sample is needed
When your father's example is in your eyes.
Look at me: I don’t boast about my build,
However, he was vigorous and fresh, and lived to see his gray hairs;
Free, widows, I am my own master...
Known for his monastic behavior!..

I dare, sir...

F a m u s o v

Be silent!
Terrible century! Don't know what to start!
Everyone was smart beyond their years.
And most of all, daughters, and good-natured people themselves,
These languages ​​were given to us!
We take tramps, both into the house and with tickets,
To teach our daughters everything, everything -
And dancing! and foam! and tenderness! and sigh!
It’s as if we are preparing them as wives for buffoons.
What are you, visitor? Why are you here, sir?
I warmed up the rootless one and brought him into my family,
He gave the rank of assessor and took him on as secretary;
Transferred to Moscow through my assistance;
And if it weren’t for me, you would be smoking in Tver.

I can’t explain your anger in any way.
He lives in the house here, what a great misfortune!
I walked into the room and ended up in another.

F a m u s o v

Did you get in or did you want to get in?
Why are you together? It can't happen by accident.

Here's the whole case:
How long ago you and Lisa were here,
Your voice scared me extremely,
And I rushed here as fast as I could...

F a m u s o v

Perhaps all the fuss will fall on me.
At the wrong time my voice alarmed them!

In a vague dream, a trifle disturbs.
Tell you a dream: then you will understand.

F a m u s o v

What's the story?

Should I tell you?

F a m u s o v

(Sits down.)

Let me... see... first
Flowery meadow; and I was looking
Grass
Some, I don’t remember in reality.
Suddenly a nice person, one of those we
We'll see - it's like we've known each other forever,
He appeared here with me; and insinuating and smart,
But timid... You know, who is born in poverty...

F a m u s o v

Oh! Mother, don’t finish the blow!
Anyone who is poor is not a match for you.

Then everything disappeared: the meadows and the skies.-
We're in a dark room. To complete the miracle
The floor has opened - and you are out of there
Pale as death, and hair on end!
Then the doors opened with thunder
Some are not people or animals
We were separated - and they tortured the one sitting with me.
It’s like he’s dearer to me than all the treasures,
I want to go to him - you bring with you:
We are accompanied by moans, roars, laughter, and whistling monsters!
He shouts after him!..
Woke up. - Someone says, -
Your voice was; what, I think it's so early?
I run here and find you both.

F a m u s o v

Yes, it’s a bad dream; I'll see.
Everything is there, if there is no deception:
And devils, and love, and fears, and flowers.
Well, my sir, what about you?

F a m u s o v

M o l c h a l i n

With papers, sir.

F a m u s o v

Yes! they were missing.
Have mercy that this suddenly fell
Diligence in writing!

(Rises.)
Well, Sonyushka, I will give you peace:
Some dreams are strange, but in reality they are stranger;
You were looking for some herbs,
I came across a friend quickly;
Get rid of the nonsense from your head;
Where there are miracles, there is little storage.-
Go, lie down, go to sleep again.

(Molchalin.)
Let's go sort out the papers.

M o l c h a l i n

I only carried them for the report,
What cannot be used without certificates, without others,
There are contradictions, and many things are inappropriate.

F a m u s o v

I'm afraid, sir, I'm mortally alone,
So that a multitude of them do not accumulate;
If you had given it free rein, it would have settled;
And for me, what matters and what doesn’t matter,
My custom is this:
Signed, off your shoulders.

He leaves with Molchalin and lets him through at the door.

PHENOMENON 5

Sofia, Liza.
Lisa

Well, here's the holiday! Well, here's some fun for you!
However, no, it’s no laughing matter now;
The eyes are dark and the soul is frozen;
Sin is not a problem, rumor is not good.

What do I need rumors? Whoever wants to, judges it that way,
Yes, father will force you to think:
Grouchy, restless, quick,
It's always been like this, but from now on...
You can judge...

I’m not judging by stories;
He bans you; - good is still with me;
Otherwise, God have mercy, at once
Me, Molchalin and everyone out of the yard.

Just think how capricious happiness is!
It can be worse, you can get away with it;
When sad nothing comes to mind,
We lost ourselves in music, and time passed so smoothly;
Fate seemed to be protecting us;
No worries, no doubts...
And grief awaits around the corner.

That's it, sir, my stupid judgment
You never regret:
But here's the problem.
What better prophet do you need?
I kept repeating: there will be no good in love
Not forever and ever.
Like all Moscow people, your father is like this:
He would like a son-in-law with stars and ranks,
And under the stars, not everyone is rich, between us;
Well, of course, then
And money to live on, so he could give balls;
Here, for example, Colonel Skalozub:
And a golden bag, and aims to become a general.

How cute! and it's fun for me to fear
Listen about the frunt and rows;
He never uttered a smart word, -
I don’t care what goes into the water.

Yes, sir, so to speak, he is talkative, but not very cunning;
But be a military man, be a civilian,
Who is so sensitive, and cheerful, and sharp,
Like Alexander Andreich Chatsky!
Not to confuse you;
It's been a long time, can't turn it back
And I remember...

What do you remember? He's nice
He knows how to make everyone laugh;
He chats, jokes, it’s funny to me;
You can share laughter with everyone.

But only? as if? - Shedding tears,
I remember, poor thing, how he parted with you.
"Why, sir, are you crying? Live laughing..."
And he responded: “No wonder, Lisa, I’m crying:
Who knows what I will find when I return?
And how much I might lose!”
The poor thing seemed to know that in three years...

Listen, don’t take unnecessary liberties.
I was very windy, perhaps I acted
And I know, and I’m guilty; but where did it change?
To whom? so that they could reproach with infidelity.
Yes, it’s true that we were brought up and grew up with Chatsky;
The habit of being together every day inseparably
She bound us together with childhood friendship; but after
He moved out, he seemed bored with us,
And he rarely visited our house;
Then he pretended to be in love again,
Demanding and distressed!!..
Sharp, smart, eloquent,
I'm especially happy with friends,
He thought highly of himself...
The desire to wander attacked him,
Oh! if someone loves someone,
Why search for the mind and travel so far?

Where is it running? in what areas?
They say he was treated in sour waters,
Not from illness, tea, from boredom - more freely.

And, of course, he’s happy where the people are funnier.
The one I love is not like this:
Molchalin is ready to forget himself for others,
The enemy of insolence is always shy, timid,
Someone you can spend the whole night with like that!
We are sitting, and the yard has long since turned white,
What do you think? what are you doing?

God knows
Madam, is this my business?

He will take your hand and press it to your heart,
He will sigh from the depths of his soul,
Not a free word, and so the whole night passes,
Hand with hand, and does not take his eyes off me.-
Laugh! is it possible! what reason did you give
Do I make you laugh like this?

Me, sir?.. your aunt has now come to mind,
How a young Frenchman ran away from her house,
Darling! wanted to bury
Out of frustration, I couldn’t:
I forgot to dye my hair
And three days later she turned gray.

(Continues to laugh.)
S o f i a (with chagrin)

That's how they'll talk about me later.

Forgive me, truly, as God is holy,
I wanted this stupid laugh
Helped to cheer you up a bit.

PHENOMENON 6

Sophia, Liza, Servant, followed by Chatsky.
Sl u g a

Alexander Andreich Chatsky is here to see you.

PHENOMENON 7

Sofia, Liza, Chatsky.
CHATSKY

It's barely light on my feet! and I am at your feet.

(Kisses your hand passionately.)
Well, kiss me, weren’t you waiting? speak!
Well, for the sake of it? No? Look at my face.
Surprised? but only? here's the welcome!
It was as if no week had passed;
It feels like yesterday together
We're tired of each other;
Not a hair of love! how good they are!
And meanwhile, I won’t remember, without a soul,
I'm forty-five hours, without squinting my eyes,
More than seven hundred versts flew by - wind, storm;
And I was completely confused, and fell how many times -
And here is the reward for your exploits!

Oh! Chatsky, I am very glad to see you.

CHATSKY

Are you for it? good morning.
However, who sincerely rejoices like that?
I think this is the last thing
Chilling people and horses,
I was just amusing myself.

Here, sir, if you were outside the doors,
By God, there are not five minutes,
How we remembered you here.
Madam, tell me yourself.-

Always, not just now.-
You cannot reproach me.
Whoever flashes by will open the door,
While passing through, by chance, from a stranger, from far away -
I have a question, even if I’m a sailor:
Did I meet you somewhere in the mail carriage?

CHATSKY

Let's say so.
Blessed is he who believes, he is warm in the world! -
Oh! My God! Am I really here again?
In Moscow! you! how can we recognize you!
Where is the time? where is that innocent age,
When it used to be a long evening
You and I will appear, disappear here and there,
We play and make noise on chairs and tables.
And here is your father and madam, behind the picket;
We are in a dark corner, and it seems like we are!
Do you remember? Let's be startled that the table will creak,
door...

Childishness!

CHATSKY

Yes, sir, and now,
At seventeen you blossomed beautifully,
Inimitable, and you know it,
And therefore modest, do not look at the light.
Aren't you in love? please give me an answer
Without thought, complete embarrassment.

At least someone will be embarrassed
Quick questions and a curious look...

CHATSKY

For mercy's sake, it's not you, why be surprised?
What new will Moscow show me?
Yesterday there was a ball, and tomorrow there will be two.
He made a match - he succeeded, but he missed.
All the same sense, and the same poems in the albums.

Persecution of Moscow. What does it mean to see the light!
Where is better?

CHATSKY

Where we are not.
Well, what about your father? all English club
An ancient, faithful member to the grave?
Has your uncle jumped back his eyelid?
And this one, what’s his name, is he Turkish or Greek?
That little black one, on crane legs,
I don't know what his name is,
Wherever you go: here, like here,
In dining rooms and living rooms.
And three of the tabloid faces,
Who have been looking young for half a century?
They have millions of relatives, and with the help of their sisters
They will become related to all of Europe.
What about our sun? our treasure?
On the forehead is written: Theater and Masquerade;
The house is painted with greenery in the form of a grove,
He himself is fat, his artists are skinny.
At the ball, remember, we opened it together
Behind the screens, in one of the more secret rooms,
There was a man hidden and clicking the nightingale,
Singer winter weather summer.
And that consumptive one, your relatives, the enemy of books,
In the scientific committee which settled
And with a cry he demanded oaths,
So that no one knows or learns to read and write?
I am destined to see them again!
Will you get tired of living with them, and in whom you won’t find any stains?
When you wander, you return home,
And the smoke of the Fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us!

I wish I could bring you and my aunt together,
To count everyone you know.

CHATSKY

And auntie? all girl, Minerva?
All the maid of honor of Catherine the First?
Is the house full of pupils and mosquitoes?
Oh! Let's move on to education.
That now, just as in ancient times,
The regiments are busy recruiting teachers,
More in number, cheaper in price?
It’s not that they are far off in science;
In Russia, under a great fine,
We are told to recognize everyone
Historian and geographer!
Our mentor, remember his cap, robe,
Index finger, all signs of learning
How our timid minds were disturbed,
As we have been accustomed to believe since early times,
That without the Germans there is no salvation for us! -
And Guillaume, the Frenchman, blown by the wind?
Is he not married yet?

CHATSKY

At least on some princess,
Pulcheria Andrevna, for example?

Dancemaster! is it possible!

CHATSKY

Well? he is a gentleman.
We will be required to be with property and in rank,
And Guillaume!.. - What’s the tone here these days?
At conventions, at big ones, on parish holidays?
A confusion of languages ​​still prevails:
French with Nizhny Novgorod? -

A mixture of languages?

CHATSKY

Yes, two, you can’t live without it.

But it’s tricky to tailor one of them like yours.

CHATSKY

At least not inflated.
Here's the news! - I'm taking advantage of the moment,
Enlivened by meeting you,
And talkative; aren't there times?
That I am more stupid than Molchalin? Where is he, by the way?
Have you not yet broken the silence of the seal?
There used to be songs where there were new notebooks
He sees and pesters: please write it off.
However, he will reach the known degrees,
After all, nowadays they love the dumb.

S o f i a (to the side)

Not a man, a snake!

(Loud and forced.)

I want to ask you:
Has it ever happened that you laughed? or sad?
A mistake? did they say good things about anyone?
At least not now, but in childhood, maybe.

CHATSKY

When is everything so soft? both tender and immature?
Why so long ago? Here's a good deed for you:
The calls are just ringing
And day and night across the snowy desert,
I'm rushing to you at breakneck speed.
And how do I find you? in some strict rank!
I can endure the cold for half an hour!
The face of the most holy praying mantis!..
And yet I love you without memory.-

(A minute's silence.)
Listen, are my words really all caustic words?
And tend to harm someone?
But if so: the mind and heart are not in harmony.
I'm eccentric to another miracle
Once I laugh, then I forget:
Tell me to go into the fire: I’ll go as if for dinner.

Yes, okay - will you burn, if not?

PHENOMENON 8

Sofia, Liza, Chatsky, F amusov.
F a m u s o v

Here's another one!

Ah, father, sleep in hand.

(Leaves.)
F a m u s o v (following her in a low voice)

Damn dream.

PHENOMENON 9

Famusov, Chatsky (looks at the door through which Sofia went out).
F a m u s o v

Well, you threw it away!
I haven’t written two words for three years!
And it suddenly burst out, as if from the clouds.

(They hug.)
Great, friend, great, brother, great.
Tell me, tea, you're ready
A meeting of important news?
Sit down, announce it quickly.

(Sit down)
CHATSKY (absent-mindedly)

How Sofya Pavlovna has become prettier for you!

F a m u s o v

You young people have nothing else to do,
How to notice girlish beauty:
She said something casually, and you,
I am filled with hopes, enchanted.

CHATSKY

Oh! no, I’m not spoiled enough by hopes.

F a m u s o v

“A dream in your hand,” she deigned to whisper to me.
That's what you have in mind...

CHATSKY

Me? - Not at all!

F a m u s o v

Who was she dreaming about? what's happened?

CHATSKY

I'm not a dream teller.

F a m u s o v

Don't believe her, everything is empty.

CHATSKY

I believe my own eyes;
I haven’t met you in ages, I’ll give you a subscription.
So that it would be at least a little like her!

F a m u s o v

He's all his own. Yes, tell me in detail,
Where were you? wandered for so many years!
Where from now?

CHATSKY

Now who cares?
I wanted to travel around the whole world,
And he didn’t travel a hundredth part.

(Gets up hastily.)
Sorry; I was in a hurry to see you soon,
Didn't go home. Farewell! In one hour
When I show up, I won’t forget the slightest detail;
You first, then you tell it everywhere.

(In the door.)
How good!

PHENOMENON 10
F a m u s o v (one)

Which of the two?
"Ah! Father, sleep in hand!"
And he says it out loud to me!
Well, my fault! What a blessing I gave to the hook!
Molchalin made me doubtful.
Now... yes, halfway out of the fire:
That beggar, that dandy friend;
He is a notorious spendthrift, a tomboy;
What kind of commission, creator,
To be a father to an adult daughter!

Today the comedy by A.S. Griboyedov's "Woe from Wit" would be called more of a tragicomedy, since there is no more sad than funny in it. The incident that prompted the writer to create this work also makes me laugh sadly. Being young and ardent, having returned from abroad and having traveled a lot, Alexander Sergeevich saw how servilely the St. Petersburg high society treated a foreign guest, was indignant at this and expressed his indignation out loud. But society did not want to hear the truth; it was easier for them to declare the young man crazy. On that day, the future protagonist of the work, Alexander Alexandrovich Chatsky, was born. At that time, the traditions of classicism still dominated Russian literature, but if “Woe from Wit” is read from a modern point of view, then one can notice in the comedy features of realism that were already beginning to come into their own. On the one hand, there are telling names, a love conflict, the unity of time and place of action, on the other hand, a living language and a complete reflection of the historical realities of that time, coupled with well-written characters. Griboyedov wrote “Woe from Wit” as a bitter satire on Moscow society, and not only of his historical period. He himself noted that the basis of the work was a fairly long period of time when ranks and honors were given not to those who were worthy of them, but to those who knew how to curry favor better than others. And therefore, for the local nobility, anyone who did not want ranks and honors was insane. Unfortunately, the comedy “Woe from Wit” is in many ways clear today: realities have changed, but people have not.

In addition to the main character - Chatsky, there are other important characters in it - the Famusov family, Skalozub, the careerist Molchanov and the entire society that is pre-set to condemn dissidents. The lover is connected with Sophia, who once loved Chatsky, and is now cold with him, since an unworthy, but completely understandable person has taken a place in her heart, and the social one is built on the confrontation of two centuries - the present and the past, which are embodied in the images of Chatsky and Famusova. If the first person has progressive views, then the second believes that it is quite normal to make people in power laugh in order to get the desired place. Today you can download “Woe from Wit” for free to see the two conflicts on which the development of the action of this play, simple and clear in its dramatic structure, is based.

Read the full text of the comedy “Woe from Wit” online or pick up the book - in any case, you need to know that the four acts of the play include exposition (the first act to the sixth phenomenon), a plot (only one phenomenon - the seventh of the first act) , development of action (from the end of the first phenomenon to the end of the third) and climax (fourth act). This composition allows you to fully demonstrate the characters’ personalities and develop the storyline. A literature lesson dedicated to “Woe from Wit” will be of interest to everyone - the theme of the confrontation between old and new is still relevant, and that is why Griboyedov’s play belongs to the Russian classics.

With the help of the maid Lisa, Sophia and Molchalin arrange dates at night. They pass quite innocently: at love meetings, the cautious secretary only presses the girl’s hands to her heart and silently sighs. But Sophia really likes such romantic tenderness.

Act 2

Soon Chatsky reappears at the Famusovs'. Sophia's father is not too happy about the arrival of this disorderly young man, considering him a frivolous and undignified dreamer. Famusov advises Chatsky to join the service, but he replies: “I would be glad to serve, it’s sickening to be served.”

Famusov reproaches young people for their pride. He sets Chatsky up as an example to his deceased uncle Maxim Petrovich, who once managed to make Queen Catherine II laugh by clownishly falling in front of her three times at one reception - and became a favorite. Chatsky, in response, pronounces an angry monologue condemning the obsequious “past century,” when those whose “necks were more often bent” rose. Famusov is horrified by Chatsky’s words. He seems to him a dangerous freethinker, almost a conspirator who should be brought to justice.

Just then Colonel Skalozub arrives, for whom Famusov believes Sophia to be his wife. Famusov accepts him with open flattery. From Skalozub’s story about his military career, it becomes clear that this stupid little guy does not have any military exploits - he received titles and awards mainly for participating in ceremonial reviews. Famusov transparently hints that it’s time for Skalozub to get married.

Chatsky even starts a conversation with Skalozub about Moscow prejudices. Frightened Famusov hastens to note that Chatsky’s views should be condemned, but he responds to this with a new long monologue - “Who are the judges?” In it, he paints images of noble scoundrels-serf owners who were sold like cattle “from the mothers and fathers of rejected children” and exchanged faithful servants for dogs. It is precisely such people who are inclined to declare any independent, educated and disinterested person a “dangerous dreamer”.

Lisa and Sophia appear. Sophia goes to the window and falls unconscious: she saw Molchalin fall from his horse on the street. It quickly becomes clear that Molchalin’s fall is not dangerous: he only slightly hurt his hand. Chatsky is surprised by Sophia’s extraordinary excitement, and for the first time he has the idea that this girl, whom he has loved for a long time, perhaps prefers Molchalin to him.

Chatsky leaves in deep thought. Everyone else leaves, leaving Lisa and Molchalin alone. Molchalin immediately starts a playful conversation with this maid, tries to look after her, hug her, as if having forgotten about his connection with Sophia.

Act 3

Tormented by jealousy of Sophia, Chatsky asks her how she feels about Molchalin. Sophia says that she does not love Molchalin, but simply has compassion for this meek, quiet young man, whom Chatsky ridicules too angrily. Sophia leaves. Having met Molchalin, Chatsky asks how he is doing. Molchalin boasts that he was recently promoted: his superiors appreciated his two talents - moderation and accuracy. “The most wonderful two! and are worth all of us,” notes Chatsky. Molchalin in response hints that Chatsky is simply jealous of him. Chatsky asks Molchalin’s opinion about the bosses. He gets off with the phrase: “At my age I shouldn’t dare to have my own opinion.” Chatsky comes to the conclusion that Sophia really cannot love such a nonentity.

In the evening, at Famusov’s house they are preparing for the ball. The entire Famus society gathers for it. Chatsky sees guests he knows approaching the porch. Platon Gorich, a recently brave military officer who has now married the beautiful Natalya Dmitrievna, comes under the thumb of his wife, becomes pampered, and loses his will. The Tugoukhovsky family appears: a deaf prince and an elderly princess, concerned only with finding grooms for their six daughters. Having learned that Chatsky is single, the princess immediately sends her husband to call him for dinner, but, hearing later that he is not rich, she commands her husband to quickly go back. Enter the grumbling countesses Khryumina - grandmother and granddaughter. The fussy liar, sharper and swindler Zagoretsky runs in. Skalozub arrives, and then Famusov’s sister-in-law, old woman Khlestova. The helpful Molchalin, ingratiatingly, strokes Khlestova’s dog and admires its fur.

Chatsky approaches Sophia, again mocking Molchalin’s flattering antics. She gets furious. When Chatsky leaves, Mr. N approaches Sophia with a question about him. Sophia irritably says that Chatsky is out of his mind. Mr. N takes this phrase spoken in his heart literally, and Sophia, noticing this, is in no hurry with explanations and refutations.

Mr. N tells about “Chatsky’s madness” to another gentleman, and soon this news spreads among everyone present at the ball. It is passed on to each other with additions. The gossiper Zagoretsky even claims that Chatsky was recently chained up in a mental hospital. Secular society does not like the smart, ironic Chatsky and gloats about his “madness.” Famusov says that the cause of madness was excessive learning, advising “to take all the books and burn them.” Skalozub recommends introducing army discipline in schools and gymnasiums.

Not yet knowing anything about this gossip about himself, Chatsky tries to start a conversation about the servility of Muscovites to foreign customs and fashions, but the guests of the ball shy away from him in fear.

Act 4

The guests are leaving. Mr. Repetilov, who was late for the ball, swoops in on Chatsky, who is standing by the carriage, and begins to excitedly talk about the “most secret union” of the “smartest members of the English Club” in which he is a member. However, from Repetilov’s story it is clear that the meetings of the “union” boil down to drinking champagne together, writing vaudeville acts, and singing Italian love arias. The main “genius” of the union, Ippolit Udushev (his prototype, apparently, was the famous Pyotr Chaadaev), writes thoughtful works, but has not yet published anything, and besides, he is “very unclean in his hand.”

Seizing an opportune moment, Chatsky hides from the annoying Repetilov in the Swiss. From there he hears Zagoretsky approaching and telling Repetilov: “Chatsky is crazy.” These words are immediately confirmed by the Tugoukhovskys and Khlestova.

When they all leave, Chatsky comes out of the Swiss and wonders in shock where such a lie about him could have come from. At the top, on the stairs of an empty house, Sophia appears with a candle in her hand. Not recognizing Chatsky in the darkness, she asks: “Molchalin, is that you?”, but immediately realizes her mistake and hides in her room.

Chatsky hides behind a column, deciding to watch what happens next. He sees Lisa approaching Molchalin’s room and calling him to Sophia. Sophia herself appears upstairs again, beginning to quietly descend the stairs. Molchalin, not noticing her, again flirts with Lisa. She shames him for cheating on the young lady, but Molchalin openly admits: he is courting Sophia only because she is the daughter of his boss.

Sophia comes out of the darkness and stands in front of Molchalin. He throws himself on his knees in front of her, begs for forgiveness, crawls at her feet. Chatsky appears from behind the column with the words: “Here I am sacrificed to someone!.. Ah! how to comprehend the game of fate? A persecutor of people with a soul, a scourge! “Silent people are blissful in the world!”

Famusov comes running with a crowd of servants at the noise. Molchalin manages to escape in time, and Famusov decides that he caught Chatsky on a love date with Sophia. In anger, he refuses Chatsky from the house, and threatens to send his daughter “to the village, to her aunt, into the wilderness, to Saratov.”

Chatsky bitterly pronounces his final monologue, reproaching Sophia for “luring him with hope” without declaring his love for another. He prophesies: Sophia will still make peace with Molchalin (“a boy-husband, a servant-husband, from a wife’s page – the high ideal of all Moscow husbands”), and exclaims:

Who was it with? Where fate has taken me!
Everyone is driving! everyone curses! Crowd of tormentors
In the love of traitors, in the tireless enmity,
Indomitable storytellers,
Clumsy smart people, crafty simpletons,
Sinister old women, old men,
Decrepit over inventions, nonsense, -
You have glorified me as crazy by the whole choir.
You are right: he will come out of the fire unharmed,
Who will have time to spend a day with you,
Breathe the air alone
And his sanity will survive.
Get out of Moscow! I don't go here anymore.
I’m running, I won’t look back, I’ll go looking around the world,
Where is there a corner for the offended feeling!..
Carriage for me, carriage!

Chatsky leaves. Famusov sees in his last words only “nonsense of a madman,” most of all worrying that rumors about the incident in his house would not reach Princess Marya Aleksevna.