[In the following essay, Giergielewicz discusses the structure of Griboedov's play, maintaining that the playwright skillfully manipulated theatrical conventions to convey a double plot: one involving a personal domestic dispute and the other involving a larger conflict the hero faces with Moscow society collectively.]

Aleksandr S. Griboedov's masterpiece, the comedy Gore ot uma (Woe from Wit) has been translated into many languages, including English, French, German and Italian. It roused warm acclaim among the Poles. Fragments of the play in Polish rendition were printed in the Polish periodical Bałamut (The Philanderer), published in Petersburg (1831, Nos. 24-26). In 1857 two complete Polish translations of Gore ot uma were made available. In 1858 its first Polish theatrical performance took place in Lwów. Eight years later, in 1866, still another translation of the comedy appeared. In modern times the prominent poet Julian Tuwim, fascinated with Griboedov's play, did a Polish rendition in verse which was published and performed in 1951 in Warsaw.

I

Impressive literary criticism dedicated to Griboedov's dramatic masterpiece Woe from Wit pointed to certain unusual features of its structural framework. The famous Russian novelist, Ivan A. Goncharov, intimated that this comedy gives the impression that two different comedies have been blended together in this work: one is a domestic skit involving Sofia, Chatski, Molchalin, and Lisa, in which petty incidents are focused around a love intrigue;¹ the other is a more formidable plot, which embraces many people of Muscovite high society and introduces a more general conflict. Goncharov's observation is basically correct and deserves closer attention.

The initial scenes of the comedy establish a traditional farcical scheme. Lisa, a pretty and clever servant girl, keeps vigilance at the door of the bedroom where her mistress Sofia and the house clerk, Molchalin, have spent a sleepless night together. Lisa's concern is to protect the lovers from any sudden incursion of Sofia's father, Famusov. Indeed, the old man appears in person, but instead of dealing with his daughter, he cajoles the servant girl who defends herself against these unwanted advances by warning Famusov that his wheedling might be overheard by his daughter. He vanishes for a while, but soon returns and sees Sofia in the company of Molchalin, his own clerk. Sofia disarms her father's anger by telling him the content of her alleged nightdream, in which his voice was distinctly heard.

Such is the starting episode of Woe from Wit. Under the very nose of the watchful father, his daughter manages to arrange a nightly rendez-vous and succeeds in mitigating his suspicions. The respectable parent, who is so anxious about his daughter's potential misdemeanor, solicits Lisa's favors at the very threshold of Sofia's room. And the alert soubrette not only escapes the lust of her employer but helps the couple in avoiding unpleasant discredit. This course of events distinctly resembles the typical French farcical repertory of the period concerned.

Of the four actors involved, Lisa initially plays the most active part. She enjoys the confidence of her mistress, and deserves this trust. She dominates the risky situation and behaves with sober composure even in the presence of her master. She dares to give Sofia some sensible advice, and it is not her fault that it is disregarded. She is the only person in the whole cast of the play speaking with respect of Chatski, of whom she reminds her mistress just before his unexpected arrival. Her natural grace impresses not only the oldish Famusov but also Molchalin, who ultimately prefers her to Sofia. She acts like a spiritus movens of the domestic comedy which would become more sluggish without her animating presence. Moreover, this clever soubrette realizes well her social standing, and she chooses the barman Petrushka as her true favorite.

There is much reason for the assumption that the character of Lisa owed her theatrical existence to French playwriting.² She certainly looks, speaks, and behaves like a typical soubrette from the French theatrical repertory, which abounded in similar characters (though they were often more frivolous). She might look out of place in Russian surroundings during the reign of Alexander I, where peasant serfdom remained unshakable and would last for half a century more. But it is doubtful whether the author would have approved of such an objection. He might have underscored the brave public spirit of Muscovite servants during the occupation of the capital by the French aggressors. While the landlords hastened to flee, their serfs took care of the abandoned estates, displaying gallantry and dedication. Occasional hints about the plight of the peasants in Russia scattered in the text of the comedy never cast discredit on their morale.

The playwright's treatment of Lisa's mistress is more puzzling. Sofia's childhood was handicapped by the lack of maternal care, but her French governess earned her father's recognition. Chatski admired Sofia's beauty and charm. Her choice of beau proved to be an error, but psychologically it was not unjustified: active, dynamic persons, like Famusov's daughter, are often fond of passive and submissive companions. Sofia's youth and lack of experience also deserve some indulgence. Nevertheless, Griboedov exposed her to severe castigation. She had chances of becoming a success, and her guilt was not quite manifest; yet, in the comedy she is submitted to painful humiliation.

The inadequacies of Russian womanhood seemed to intrigue Griboedov when he compiled his minor plays. In the earlier one-act comedy Molodye Suprugi (The Young Married Couple), a free paraphrase of a French play,³ he introduced Ariste and Elmira, soon after their wedding. Both love each other, nevertheless the husband soon finds his charming wife boring, and their verbal clashes reveal that apparently they have little to say to each other. The author intimates that their emotional coolness is Elmira's fault. She takes her husband's reciprocal love for granted; she adopts a passive attitude, neglects her clothes, and shuns the company of other men. Fortunately a friend of the couple opens Elmira's eyes to her situation and teaches her proper behavior. She begins to wear exciting dresses and pretends to receive mysterious letters, making her husband jealous. Casual quarrels add spice to their relationship, and the former emotional crisis is quickly forgotten. In Woe from Wit Sofia's blunders are of course different; she alienates not only Chatski but also Molchalin.

A surprising aspect of misogyny was also demonstrated in the vaudeville written jointly by Griboedov and his friend Pyotr Andreevich Vyazemsky and performed on September 1, 1824, in Petersburg.⁴ Its protagonist, the Russian officer Roslavlev, disappointed by some girl, begins to dislike women so violently that he disapproves of any marriage. When he learns that his younger brother intends to marry a Polish girl, he becomes furious and decides to intervene. Unaware that the wedding had already taken place, he leaves for Poland. Both brothers stop in the same locality. The attractive daughters of the local postmaster do not dispel Roslavelv's ire; but Julia, his sister-in-law, disguised as a boy, captivates his sentiments and arouses his admiration; even when she divulges her true identity, she still enchants him to such a degree that he discards his anti-feminist grudge, and a happy reunion of the brothers is the inescapable result. Roslavlev senior not only reconciles himself to his brother's marriage, but renounces his former prejudice against women.

A peculiar national undertone sounds in this carefree vaudeville. Roslavlev junior pays a compliment to Polish girls by marrying one of them. His senior brother is less complacent, but he also indulges in their ambiguous praise. He voices his opinion to Julia before finding out her real identity:

JULIA (disguised as a boy)
Just imagine—to get married at his age!
ROSLAVLEV Sr.
And to a Polish girl! This is most dangerous.
JULIA.
Why? I am Polish myself.
ROSLAVLEV Sr.
Let us be just, taking patriotism aside. Our coquettes are mere school-girls if compared with the Polish women.(5)

Julia still expresses the fear that Polish women may meet with hostility in Russia, but her brother-in-law assures her that all men in Russia adore girls arriving from Poland.⁶ This emphatic homage sounds like a discreet sally against the alleged drabness of the native fair sex in Russia.

Griboedov's jest may reflect the popular fad as well as some real episodes. The story of Mme. Walewska, who became Napoleon's mistress, was widely known. Russian people were not unaware that the temporary heir to the Russian throne, Grand Duke Konstantin, married the Polish beauty Joanna Grudzińska. Marriages of other prominent Russians with Polish women were not infrequent.⁷ And only a few years after the performance of Griboedov's vaudeville, Russian readers would be amused by a humorous ballad of Mickiewicz, “The Three Budrys Brothers.” It was the story of an old Lithuanian warrior who advised his three sons departing on military expeditions to bring back silver rubles from Novgorod, amber from the Teutonic Knights at the Baltic seashore, and a bride from Poland. Naturally all three lads returned home with Polish brides. The translation by Aleksandr Sergeevich Pushkin popularized this ballad among the Russians.

Notwithstanding the Russian eulogies, some Polish playwrights subjected their native girls to a censure reminiscent of Griboedov's attitude towards Russian women. In 1822 the first performance of the comedy Mąż i żona (Husband and Wife) by Aleksander Fredro was staged.⁸ It is a sprightly and entertaining play in three acts with only four actors. The major role is entrusted to the servant girl Justysia (Justine) who in many respects resembles Griboedov's Lisa, lacking, however, her honesty and integrity. Justine acts as a confidante of her mistress, Elwira, who has established a liaison with her husband's cordial friend, Alfred. On her part Justine has an affair both with the lady's husband, Wacław, and with her lover, Alfred. Thus every imaginable heterosexual triangle links the members of the cast. Justine's treachery is ultimately discovered; Wacław decides to get rid of her, severs his friendship with Alfred and seeks reconciliation with his wife.

What were the reasons of Elwira's neglect—not only by her husband but also by her lover? She commits almost the same mistakes which Griboedov attributes to the forsaken wife in The Young Married Couple. She does little to please her husband, and her maudlin, monotonous sentimentality dampens the passion of her lover. Justine has no difficulty in making romantic conquests, because her vivacious, carefree, infectious gaiety is a delightful contrast with the moody behavior of her mistress. Besides, Fredro makes her victories more carefully motivated than those of her Russian counterpart, as Justysia had received some education and was well acquainted with the French language.

Fredro's apparent structural goal was to reduce the well-known farcical plot to the most economical drawing-room scale. Griboedov completed the cast of four basic actors with two additional characters. Apart from the main competitors—Sofia and Lisa, Chatski and Molchalin—he introduced Sofia's father, Famusov, and another potential suitor, Colonel Skalozub. However, the essential partners in the initial, farcical episode of Woe from Wit and Fredro's Husband and Wife are of patent similarity.

The interplay among Sofia and Lisa—Chatski and Molchalin, with Skalozub and Famusov as stage partners, was theatrically self-sufficient and contained enough potential for a small, three-act comedy comparable to Fredro's Husband and Wife. Various ramifications of the intrigue were conceivable within the framework of such traditional farcical plots. Fortunately Griboedov leaned towards vigorous expansion of the conflict. He made the protagonist of the comedy rather an exponent of the growing protest against social evils than a mere clumsy partner in the entertaining game of love.

Even though the early episodes of Woe from Wit were overshadowed by further developments, the initial farcical nucleus was not completely discarded. Lisa continued to act as a faithful confidante of her mistress, and in the second act of the play extricated her once more from an embarrassing situation. Molchalin alluded casually to his fancy for Lisa, and his amorous intentions would be revealed in the final act of the play, precipitating the dénouement. Famusov still displayed the amusing shortsightedness of a comical figure: in spite of his cleverness, he completely misunderstood the conduct of his daughter and even accused Chatski of misdemeanor which had never occurred, while ignoring the involvement of Molchalin. Thanks to these ties the structural continuity of the comedy was maintained.

II

Curiously enough, in his own resumé of the play (written to Pavel Aleksandrovich Katenin in response to his critical remarks) Griboedov did not mention Lisa, as if he disregarded her structural role. When he looked at her from the perspective of his work as a whole, her presence lost some of its initial prominence. He simply recorded that Sofia, though not stupid, preferred a fool to the man who voiced his antagonism towards the social milieu:

Nobody understands him, nobody wishes to condone his superiority over other people. At first he is just hilarious, and this is also a vice. “To joke all the time, how can you afford this!” He mildly castigates the oddities of his former acquaintances; but how could he behave otherwise, if they lack any sizable noble features? His mockery is not vicious until he gets infuriated; nonetheless he evokes a negative judgment: “He is not a man but a snake!” And later, when personal interests are menaced—our own people are being attacked—he is subjected to an anathema: “He enjoys humiliating people; he is jealous, conceited and wicked! …” Somebody remarked from spite that he was a lunatic; nobody believes it, but all repeat the rumor. The sound of general disapproval reaches his ears, and he also realizes the complete indifference of the girl who was the only reason for his arrival in Moscow; he spits in her and everybody's eyes and departs. The chess queen is also disappointed with her honey sugar.⁹

In this manner the playwright interprets the mechanism of further incidents in the comedy and the behavior of its protagonist. If one, however, knew only the four initial scenes of the play (preceding the appearance of Chatski), one would hardly anticipate such a continuation. The arrival of Chatski results in concentrating all floodlights on the newcomer. Structurally this was the favorite pattern of comedy writing by many seventeenth-and eighteenth-century playwrights, above all Molière.

As far as Molière is concerned, Chatski's stubborn belligerence shows some apparent kinship with Alceste from Le Misanthrope, and certain analogies between both characters could be easily traced. However, the background of Chatski's anger was basically different. His attitude is to be associated with Russian underground brooding, which found such an impressive outlet in the Decembrist rebellion and its tragic finale. Moreover, Chatski's dignified isolation, his emotional élan and passionate outbursts link him with the incipient Romantic rebellion which swept the European communities in the first half of the nineteenth century. He behaves as if he were a spiritual relative of the Byronic heroes. Like most of them, he seeks refuge in love, and as soon as his hopes are disillusioned, he disappears from the stage. The period of the playwright's work on Woe from Wit coincides with the rapid ascent of the Byronic star which fascinated so many European poets. Griboedov's knowledge of English enabled him to become one of the early harbingers of Byronism in Russian literature.

Various devices were exploited by the author in order to underscore the prominence of the protagonist in the comedy. Chatski is the first person from the outside world visiting the Famusovs in their home. His surprising entrance has been distinctly signaled. The exchange of opinions between Sofia and Lisa before his visit stirs the attention of the audience. Then the butler announces his entrée. Griboedov does not submit the audience to such protracted suspense as Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol did in Revizor (The Inspector-General) where Khlestakov appears only in the second act; however, both playwrights manipulated a similar structural stratagem. And as soon as Chatski enters the stage, his prominence becomes incontestable. His vigorous effusions are contrasted against the farcical atmosphere of the initial scenes. Presently he will become involved in acrimonious verbal skirmishes, revealing his firm, resolute convictions and an explosive fighting spirit. Gradually petty squabbles are replaced by more significant confrontations.

Chatski is received by both Famusov and his daughter with ostentatious coolness, but he cannot be easily discouraged. Although hardly conceited, he is well aware of his advantages and believes in his cause. He does not fear social isolation, and seems to be a good fighter. However, the course of events turns disastrous for him. He does not make converts and provokes general disapproval. He fails as a lover and must savor the bitterness of the defeat, although his competitor is a nonentity whom he heartily despises. He learns that people have proclaimed him a lunatic. His last gesture of defiance is the decision to abandon the capital.

In spite of these humiliating mishaps it may be acknowledged that the protagonist gains a moral victory. Chatski might draw some consolation from casual clashes with the opponents whom he makes victims of his acidulous wit. Until the very end of the play he remains the focus of general attention. Even if he stays behind the scenes, his influence is felt. In his defeat he looks more impressive than his triumphant tormentors. He is allowed by the author to indulge in a few long, violent soliloquies which enhance his stature. In the last scene of the third act he recites a monologue among a crowd of the guests, none of whom pays any attention to him; this wasted effort makes his diatribe even more conspicuous to the public. The role of a prophet crying in the wilderness does not make him ridiculous. Confronted with a mute, impersonal society, the protagonist looks like the only human being distinguishable in the mob of nondescript creatures.

Some of Chatski's passionate invectives refer to his amorous misadventure, but most of them have no personal motivation. Chatski's judgments sound like an objective assessment of the shortcomings and vices of Muscovite community. The playwright's biography indicates his connection with the clandestine political brooding; yet in Woe from Wit Chatski ridicules the silly conspirators whose reckless clamoring becomes a public secret, and speaks with scorn of the meetings at the English Club where Famusov is one of the members.

Chatski's aggressive fierceness soon creates the impression that the Famusov drawing room is too narrow a milieu for his militant sallies. Griboedov finds a bold solution to the resulting artistic dilemma. He discards the Classicist's habit of manipulating a strictly limited number of actors. In order to provide a more convincing psychological justification for his hero's belligerence, he arranges a reception to which many guests are invited. The initial cast of five actors (plus Skalozub who is added in the second act) will grow to twenty-four participants; moreover, a number of anonymous people will appear on the stage, including casual, unnamed visitors, servants, butlers, footmen, et al.

Owing to this growth of the cast, Chatski's behavior acquires a more adequate perspective. The reasons for his animosity become more convincing as soon as he is confronted with a more representative body of Muscovite high society. The mechanism of meaningless chattering and slanderous gossiping which animates the crowd contrasts effectively with Chatski's bold straightforwardness and intellectual honesty. Especially instructive in this respect is the late introduction of Repetilov, the indefatigable windbag eagerly avoided by his acquaintances.

III

Even the greatly increased cast did not represent adequately the social target subjected to the playwright's satirical castigation. The message of the comedy was not limited to a superficial layer of the Muscovite community, but attacked the system with manifold social implications. Griboedov displayed much creative courage by straining the technical limits of traditional stagecraft. But the resources available were not unlimited. Further increase of the cast might create confusion and could be embarrassing for the producers.

The writer resorted to an expedient for conveying the images of individual persons and collective groups without overcrowding the stage. He boldly exploited the device moderately tested by Classicist playwrights. He let the actors evoke images of people and incidents attributed to the real life beyond the stage. In this respect Molière was one of his worthy predecessors. In Le Misanthrope Acaste and Celimène indulge in free gossiping, drawing sketchy caricatures of their common acquaintances. Acaste points to the talkative Damon who abuses the patience of his friends even under the hottest sun, and Celimène adds her malicious comment:

C'est un parleur étrange, et qui trouve toujours
L'art de ne vous rien dire avec de grands discours;
Dans le propos qu'il tient on ne voit jamais une goutte
Et ce n'est que du bruit que tout ce qu'on écoute.(10)

This quotation was selected among a dozen of others, as it introduces a man who resembles to some extent Repetilov, equally loquacious and repugnant to his listeners. Appropriate use of the same technique was made by some English playwrights, e.g., by Sheridan in his School for Scandal. A. Fredro exploited the same method in Husband and Wife to extend his own satirical portrayal of high society. Both Wacław and his friend, Alfred, excel in witty backbiting. They ridicule the Pantler's wife who concocted clumsy anecdotes, generously spread them around—and was the only person laughing at them. They speak of Angela, so enamoured of her husband that whenever he left for his country estate, she would dress herself in mourning garb; of the Baron who dearly loved his wife—and considered her lover his closest friend. These caustic remarks refer to the habitués of the local drawing rooms, and Wacław's wife, Elwira, justly brands their wickedness.¹¹

Griboedov visualized the almost unlimited potential of such apparently casual cues pointing to the outer world. He found in them the vehicle for communicating to the public the meaningful information which could not be conveyed visually on the stage. Even though such hints may appear less expressive, they leave some definite imprint in the memory and imagination of the spectators and enrich the texture of the play. In some respects such inserted data may be even more versatile and instructive, as they are independent of the limitations of time and space to which the theatrical stage is submitted. The actors acquire an opportunity for conveying distant incidents which happened in the past or are expected in the more or less distant future.

Certain cues of this category may refer to the characters of the play. Some earlier playwrights indulged in describing the leading personages before their appearance on the stage. In the comedies this rather conventional, introductory function was sometimes performed by conventional servants, anticipating the entrée of their masters. In Woe from Wit Sofia and Lisa provide some information about Famusov, as well as of Chatski and Skalozub, who will appear only in subsequent scenes.¹² The informative significance of such utterances may be modest, but is not superfluous. Sofia's criticism of her father reveals some disrespect reflecting the habitual generation gap; her remarks about Molchalin indicate the degree of her infatuation. In the third act of the comedy ironic hints by several persons concerning Zagoretski reveal the general scorn for this unsavory gentleman.

Owing to abundant information conveyed inconspicuously by the cast the cumulative portrayal of Muscovite high society was enriched by many significant traits. On the other hand a number of inserted messages refer to various painful grievances involving the lower classes. Many individuals and groups mentioned in carefree chats among the actors take on definite literary existence, even though they do not appear on the stage. They may be considered as a supplementary phantom cast, firmly anchored in the text.

To weigh properly the significance of the technical device concerned, a complete register of them should be helpful, priority being accorded to the individuals.

1. Madame Rosier, Sofia's governess and “second mother,” overpaid by another employer. (I, 4, p. 10).
2. Sofia's aunt, abandoned by her French lover; she forgot to dye her hair, and in three days grew grayhaired. (I, 5, p. 17).
3. The mysterious Turk or Greek, anonymous. (I, 7, p. 19).
4. Another aunt of Sofia, lady-in-waiting of Catherine I, whose home was full of her wards and of little dogs. (I, 7, p. 20).
5. Sofia's tubercular uncle, enemy of books who joined the learned Committee for Liquidating Schools. (I, 8, p. 20).
6. A peasant hidden behind the screen, imitating a nightingale during the winter reception. (I, 8, pp. 19-20).
7. The German mentor of Sofia and Chatski. (I, 7, p. 20).
8. Princess Pulkheria Andreevna, Guillomé's eventual bride-to-be. (Ibid.).
9. Guillomé, dancing master, a potential husband for some Russian princess. (Ibid.).
10. Praskovia Fedorovna, inviting Famusov to a trout dinner. (II, 1, p. 25).
11. The late chamberlain Kuzma Petrovich, wealthy and respected in Moscow. (II, 1, p. 25).
12. Famusov's uncle Maxim Petrovich, who speeded up his career by stumbling at the court. (II, 5, p. 27).
13. Skalozub's brother, who received a military distinction, but retired from the Army, and turned to books. (II, 5, pp. 33-34).
14. An anonymous magnate, the Nestor of glorious scoundrels, whom Chatski had to visit as a boy. (II, 5, p. 38).
15. A ballet fan, bringing the dancing peasants from his country estate to Moscow. (II, 5, p. 38).
16. Princess Lasova, a widow who fell from a horse and broke a rib, seeking another husband for support. (II, 9, p. 43).
17. Tatiana Yurievna, an influential lady glorified by Molchalin. (II, 5, p. 36 and III, 3, pp. 55-56). The names of three other ladies are mentioned.
18. Foma Fomich, chief of departments in three ministries, an alleged writer, praised by Molchalin and scorned by Chatski. (III, 8, pp. 56-57).
19. Khlestova's Negro girl. (III, 10, p. 67).
20. Another Negro girl of Khlestova's sister, bought at the fair by Zagoretski. (III, 10, p. 68).
21. Monsieur Kok, partner at the card game with Molchalin and Khlestova. (III, 12, p. 70).
22. Prince Fedor, who studied at the Institute in Petersburg, expert in botany, shunning women. (III, 21, p. 79).
23. The anonymous little Frenchman from Bordeaux. (III, 22, p. 79).
24. Prince Grigori, enthusiast of English ways of life. (IV, 4, pp. 89-91).
25. Evdokim Vorkulov, allegedly a fine singer. (IV, 4, p. 89).
26. Ippolit Markelych Udushiev, gambler and alleged writer. (IV, 4, pp. 89-90).
27. Baron von Klotz, Repetilov's father-in-law, a high-ranking civil servant. (IV, 5, p. 92).
28. Lokhmot'jev, an alleged radical politician. (IV, 5, p. 153).
29. The husband—a mere boy acting as his wife's page (with reference to Molchalin. (IV, 14, p. 104).

As can be seen, the register of persons introduced indirectly in the comedy (to which a few less significant, anonymous figures might be added) exceeds numerically the cast of the play. Even more abundant are references to collective groups and to various incidents involving such groups:

1. Advice to the servant girls to avoid both ire and love of their squires. (I, 2, p. 7, Lisa).
2. French tramps and vagrants employed by the Russian squires to teach their daughters dancing, singing, and making love, as if they were expected to marry comedians. (I, 3, p. 9).
3. Method of getting rid of burdensome official business by bureaucrats: once the letter is signed, the matter is over. (I, 4, p. 13).
4. Evening-dress balls, idle gossiping, and writing verse in the albums as usual pastimes for girls. (I, 7, p. 19).
5. The stout landlord fond of theatrical performances and his lean serf actors. (I, 7, p. 19).
6. The three senile boulevard heroes, rejuvenating themselves for half a century, and a million of their relatives dispersed all over Europe. (Ibid.).
7. The wards kept in the manor of an old lady-in-waiting of the Imperial Court. (Ibid., p. 20).
8. Large provincial gatherings of the Russian gentry where a mixture of French and the Russian provincial dialects can be heard. (Ibid., p. 21).
9. Regiments of bad, but inexpensive teachers. (Ibid., p. 20).
10. Statement that in Russia everyone is an alleged scholar, an historian or a geographer. (Ibid.).
11. Children taught by their German teachers that no salvation is possible without the Germans. (Ibid.).
12. A gourmet trout dinner. (II, 1, p. 25).
13. The solemn funeral of a prominent dignitary. (Ibid.).
14. An invitation to the baptism of a baby by a doctor's widow, included in Famusov's timetable. (Ibid.).
15. A glimpse of life at the Imperial Court in the epoch of Catherine I. (II, 2, p. 27).
16. Crowds of sycophants, eager to please, in the past and the present. (II, 2, p. 27).
17. Buffoons eager to please their patrons. (Ibid., p. 29).
18. Nepotism: employment of nephews and cousins of dignitaries, outsiders being a rare exception. (II, 5, p. 33).
19. The propitious disappearance of Skalozub's competitors in his military career: some were killed, some retired. (II, 5, p. 34).
20. The abundance of brides-to-be in Moscow. (II, 5, p. 35).
21. Worthless suitors, yet acceptable if they possessed two thousand peasant serfs. (II, 5, p. 35).
22. Uninvited guests, taking advantage of the foolish hospitality of the hosts. (Ibid.).
23. Young lads, so clever that they are capable of teaching their own teachers. (II, 5, p. 36).
24. Sterile discussions of elderly statesmen. (II, 5, p. 36).
25. Ladies as supreme judges of the community, deserving to sit in the Senate, educated in the French fashion, but still very patriotic and therefore fond of the military. (Ibid.).
26. The onesided revival of Moscow after the disaster of 1812: the houses are new, but the prejudices are old. (II, 5, pp. 36-37).
27. Magnates hating freedom, drawing information from obsolete gazettes, relying on the help of influential relatives, enriched by robbery, indulging in waste and sumptuous banquets. (II, 5, p. 37).
28. Foreign sycophants, cultivating the basest traditions of the past. (II, 5, p. 38).
29. Devoted servants of the Nestor of the noble scoundrels, bartered by him for three greyhounds. (Ibid., p. 38).
30. Peasant boys and girls, brought to Moscow as performers in the ballet, and subsequently sold to cover their owner's debts. (Ibid.).
31. Universal persecution of gifted young men whose talents aroused apprehension. (Ibid.).
32. The uniform as a guise concealing shortcomings of character and mind. (Ibid.).
33. Enthusiastic ladies who welcomed uniformed officers by throwing their bonnets in the air. (II, 5, p. 39).
34. Officers of the First Army, competing successfully with the Guards: elegant, with narrow waists, some even speaking French. (II, 1, p. 45).
35. People in Moscow fond of joking, with evil tongues more menacing than pistols. (II, 11, p. 45).
36. Abundance of influential fools, some serving in the Armed Forces, some bad poets, some civil servants. (III, 1, p. 50).
37. People capable of mixing work with amusements, praised by Molchalin and despised by Chatski.
38. Nostalgic memories of the abandoned military camp comrades after the officer's retirement and marriage. (III, 6, p. 62).
39. Girls and their parents depressed at the balls in view of the scarcity of dancers. (III, 6, p. 62).
40. Men abroad marrying salesgirls in fashionable stores, justified by Chatski for preferring the originals to their clumsy Russian copies. (III, 8, p. 65).
41. Excitable ladies, deftly pacified by Molchalin. (III, 13, p. 71).
42. Learning as social calamity, responsible for the fact that more insane people and foolish affairs are to be found than ever before. (III, 21, p. 78).
43. Stultifying boarding schools and lyceums. (III, 21, p. 79, Skalozub).
44. Rebellious schools, especially the Pedagogical Institute, where the professors allegedly teach their students conspiracy and atheism. (III, 21, pp. 78-79).
45. Skalozub's project to make all schools military-like, practising drill and turning to books only on special occasions. (III, 21, p. 79).
46. Famusov's suggestion to burn all books as the source of all social evil. (III, 21, p. 79).
47. Assertion that lunacy may result from book reading as well as from drunkenness. (Ibid.).
48. A man (Chatski) lost in the indifferent crowd and subjected to a million tortures: pseudo-friendly embraces, meaningless shouting and sterile ideas. (III, 22, p. 81).
49. A crowd of Russian people approving of the insolent Frenchman from Bordeaux and listening to his conceited chant that there is no better country than France. (Ibid.).
50. Venerable customs, language, tradition, clothing, grooming foolishly changed by the Russians. (III, 22, p. 82).
51. General condemnation of everyone who dares to proclaim new ideas. (III, 22, pp. 82-83).
52. Secret gatherings in the English Club; clandestine meetings at which the participants shout so loudly that nobody understands the speakers. (IV, 4, p. 88).
53. The English acquaintances surrounding Prince Grigori. (IV, 4, p. 89).
54. Collective cooperation on a vaudeville making it impossible to compile a valuable work. (IV, 4, p. 90).
55. A gathering at Prince Grigori's: twenty people attend, but they shout for a hundred. (IV, 5, p. 91).
56. Skalozub's suggestion to submit the discussants to the command of a corporal as their intellectual Voltaire. (Ibid.).
57. The prosperous clerks of Baron Klotz, vulgar and venal. (IV, 5, pp. 91-92, Repetilov).
58. The prescription of Molchalin's father to please everybody: the landowner, the chief of the Office, the butler brushing the clothes, the janitor, and the dog, in order to acquire general benevolence. (IV, 12, p. 99).
59. Throngs of Molchalin, thriving in the world. (IV, 13, p. 102).
60. Glimpses of life in an obscure village where Sofia would be eventually exiled by her father with Lisa, and where the only pastimes available are knitting and weaving. (IV, 14, p. 10).

IV

The examination of the comedy's structural texture leaves the impression not only of surprising abundance but also of ingenious planning. Its content may be arranged in a concentric way. The central position of Chatski remains uncontestable. The second circle embraces the persons directly participating in the farcical plot. In the third circle the guests attending the reception in the Famusov house can be placed. The fourth circle will enclose all other persons mentioned individually in the text. And the fifth circle will include the groups of different social standing.

In the first act of Woe from Wit farcical entertainment seems to prevail. The arrival of Chatski changes its mood. Gradually, owing to the wealth of information provided by the cast of the comedy, a vision of grim, complicated, turbulent existence emerges from the text. The work sounds like an urgent, alarming social message. This effect has been achieved without didactic pomp. The ironic twist of the final coda signals the apparent suppression of the temporary excitement and the eventual return to the atmosphere of the initial scenes.

The playwright's unorthodox technique viewed from the psychological standpoint may be subjected to some doubt. It was certainly difficult to reconcile two different artistic goals: to write a lively, spirited dialogue meeting the standards of theatrical diction and to provide a miniature social encyclopedia of the calamities worrying the Russian progressives of the period concerned.

In order to pay due tribute to Griboedov's mastery, the specific quality of Russian high society should be assessed. The actors of the comedy belong—with only minimal exceptions—to the privileged class whose patchy and rather superficial education was not impressive, but which was well adapted to the exigencies of the drawing room. Conversational skill, mastery of bons mots, and witty riposte were almost necessary for societal survival. This ability was expected from both men and women, from civil servants and army officers, from courtiers, intellectuals, and artists. Chatski and Famusov belonged to different generations and political creeds, but both displayed a good command of bons mots. Even Skalozub, an obvious sot, uttered a few sayings which revealed his hopeless backwardness, but which sounded like apt epigrams. Lisa, who was a clever girl and learned much from her masters, said of Skalozub, “He is also capable of joking; who is not today?” Pushkin concurred with this opinion by acknowledging the existence of brilliant fools (“blistatel'nykh gluptsov”).¹³

Griboedov was well aware of this curious phenomenon and made excellent use of it in his comedy. A similar artistic endeavor would be disastrous if the social milieu consisted mainly of taciturn, uncommunicative growlers. Conversational fencing in Woe from Wit, in which practically the whole cast is allowed to participate, makes the cumulative exchange of information and opinions natural and unobtrusive. The actors are sufficiently well equipped for carrying out their respective communicative assignments without any ostentatious prompting by the playwright.

Within the cast, of which every member is capable of conversing in an articulate, entertaining manner, Chatski's prominence is not overemphatic. His dialectical sallies do not crush the opposition and occasionally meet with witty response. Even if some of his adversaries express the opinion of which the playwright definitely disapproves and which the audience may find wrong, they perform a constructive function by conjuring up an atmosphere of authentic verbal strifes.

Naturally enough, Chatski's spirited, ebullient eloquence prevails in the text, and he is involved in drawing ten individual portrayals and twenty-seven group sketches, mainly of satirical content. But he does not silence the opposition; on the contrary, he arouses the objections of other actors and animates their repartées. In several scenes he recedes into the background, while other speakers come to the fore. It was a hazardous task to maintain the proper balance; but Griboedov solved his dilemma with admirable skill, distributing the communicative duties among nine actors. Their register includes not only the leading performers, but also a few casual guests at the Famusov reception, who did not participate in the plot of the comedy, but still were given a chance to voice certain individual contributions.

It would be erroneous to assume that in order to make his own points the playwright felt compelled to rely on Chatski as the exponent of his own opinion. In most cases the writer seemed to identify himself with his main protagonist (but he was also in basic agreement with Lisa). Moreover, if some actor expresses an idea incompatible with the views of the playwright, the audience obtains enough indication to make the proper judgment. Occasionally an ironic accent adds poignancy to the dialogues, making Griboedov's stand even more emphatic. This applies to such characters as Famusov, Skalozub, and Repetilov.

Indirect sketches and episodes conveyed by the cast of the play resulted not only in the bold expansion of the social panorama, but also in some precious qualitative contribution. It was justly remarked that the pageant of the individuals included in the dialogues and monologues of Woe from Wit surpasses the prestige of the actors appearing on the stage.¹⁴ Griboedov's ability to maintain the lively tempo of the play in spite of its communicative message is certainly an outstanding achievement.

The comedy was written for alert and imaginative audiences, capable of transferring conversational hints into adequate images during the course of the performance. Recently some modern techniques were experimentally tested in similar instances. The producers of the Romantic drama, Cyrano de Bergerac, by Edmond Rostand in Paris exploited film pictures. While all roles of this drama were performed on the normal stage, the atmosphere of the chivalrous period was conveyed by the addition of filmed scenes showing the fantastic exploits of fearless knights. These supplements were added mainly during the intervals.

Griboedov's close acquaintance with European playwriting helped him to start the comedy rolling. He adopted the individualistic method of the Romantic era by concentrating the spotlights on the lonely fighter and by emphasizing his ferocious conflict with Muscovite society. On the other hand he conceived a design to reflect this society in a comprehensive and explicit way, thus dramatizing the isolation of his hero. In order to reach this goal he did not shun the traditional devices of the classic repertory, but manipulated them in an ingenious way, creative and refreshing. He found a masterful application for the Classicist habit of conversational portrayal, rejuvenating its expressiveness and expanding its use.

Notes

1. I. A. Goncharov, “Million terzanii. Kritichesskii etiud” (A Million Torments, a Critical Study), in A. S. Griboedov v russkoi kritike (Griboedov in Russian Criticism), Moscow, 1958, pp. 271-72.

2. About twenty private theaters were active in Moscow at the beginning of the nineteenth century; some of them survived the French occupation in 1812. Cf. Jean Bonamour, A. S. Griboedov et la vie liitéraire de son temps, Paris, 1965, pp. 38-41 and 60-69. A member of the Green Lamp Circle (considered the literary branch of the Decembrist movement), probably A. D. Ulybashev, the noted historian of music, published anonymously an essay criticizing the supremacy of French influence in Russian drama. (Cf. B. V. Orlov, “Khudozhestvennaya problematika Griboedova,” in Literaturnoe Nasledstvo (Literary Heritage), 1947-48, pp. 18-19). As to the comedy Gore ot uma, Ju. N. Tynianov pointed to the ties between this play and Beaumarchais (“Sjuzhet Goria ot uma,” in Literaturnoe Nasledstvo, op. cit., pp. 149-150). The critic referred to the eulogy of slander by Don Bazile in Le barbier de Seville ou La précaution inutile.

3. Le secret du ménage, by Augustin-François Creuse de Lesser, published in 1809 and performed in the same year in Paris. According to F. V. Bulharin and S. N. Bagichev, Griboedov's paraphrase of this three-act play was written in 1814. Cf. A. S. Griboedov, Sochineniia (Works), Moscow, 1959, comments by Vl. Orlov, p. 670. All subsequent quotations from Griboedov's writings were taken from this edition.

4. Kto brat, kto sestra, ili obman za obmanom (Who Is Brother and Who Is Sister, or One Hoax after Another). According to the co-author P. A. Vyazemskii, the prose text was provided by Griboedov. See Sochinenia, op. cit., p. 675.

5. Ibid., scene 10, p. 286.

6. Ibid., scene 17, p. 297.

7. One member of the influential Nesselrode family (Frederic, subsequent chief of military police in the Warsaw district), married Tekla Nałęcz Górska. A. S. Shishkov, minister of education, married the widow, Julia Lobarzewska (née Narbutt); during his stay in Russia Mickiewicz attended her receptions. The book by Maria Czapska, Europa w rodzinie (Europe in the Family), Paris, 1970, contains much information on the international ties among prominent European clans, including Russians and Poles.

8. Aleksander Fredro, Pisma wszystkie (Complete Works), vol. I, Warsaw, 1955. The text of the Polish comedy is available in the prose translation into English by Harold Segel. (The Major Comedies of Alexander Fredro, Princeton, 1969, pp. 63-115).

9. Letter to P. A. Katenin, in Sochineniya, op. cit., p. 557.

10. Molière, Le Misanthrope, act II, scene 5.

11. A. Fredro, op. cit., act I, scene 8.

12. A. S. Griboedov, op. cit., act I, scene 5, pp. 14-15.

13. A. S. Pushkin, Evgenii Onegin, canto XLVI, line 14.

14. A. S. Griboedov, Gore ot uma, ed. N. K. Piksanov and A. L. Grishin, Moscow, 1969, p. 263.