On Wealth
The Landlord, his Wife, their Daughter and their son Vasia, six years old, are having tea on the veranda. The grown-up children are playing tennis. A Young Beggar comes up to the veranda.
Landlord | To the beggar. What do you want? |
Beggar | Bowing to him. I dare say you know. Have pity on a man out of work. I am tramping, with nothing to eat, and no clothes to wear. I have been to Moscow, and am trying to get home. Help a poor man. |
Landlord | Why are you poor? |
Beggar | Why? Because I haven’t got anything. |
Landlord | You would not be poor if you worked. |
Beggar | I would be glad to, but I can’t get a job. Everything is shut down now. |
Landlord | How is it other people find work and you cannot? |
Beggar | Believe me, upon my soul, I would be only too glad to work. But I can’t find a job. Have pity on me, sir. I have not eaten for two days, and I’ve been tramping all the time. |
Landlord | To his wife in French. Have you any change? I have only notes. |
His Wife | To Vasia. Be a good boy, go and fetch my purse; it is in my bag on the little table beside my bed. |
Vasia does not hear what his mother says; he has his eyes fixed on the beggar. | |
The Wife | Don’t you hear, Vasia? Pulling him by the sleeve. Vasia! |
Vasia | What, mother? |
The Wife repeats her directions. | |
Vasia | Jumping up. I am off. Goes, looking back at the beggar. |
Landlord | To the beggar. Wait a moment. Beggar steps aside. |
Landlord | To his wife, in French. Is it not dreadful? So many are out of work now. It is all laziness. Yet, it is horrid if he really is hungry. |
His Wife | I hear it is just the same abroad. I have read that in New York there are 100,000 unemployed. Another cup of tea? |
Landlord | Yes, but much weaker. He lights a cigarette; they stop talking. |
Beggar looks at them, shakes his head and coughs, evidently to attract their attention. | |
Vasia comes running with the purse, looks round for the beggar and, passing the purse to his mother, looks again fixedly at the beggar. | |
Landlord | Taking a ten kopeck piece out of the purse. There, What’s-your-name, take that. |
Beggar | Bows, pulls off his cap and takes the money. Thank you, thank you for that much. Many thanks for having pity on a poor man. |
Landlord | I pity you chiefly for being out of work. Work would save you from poverty. He who works will never be poor. |
Beggar | Having received the money, puts on his cap and turns away. They say truly that work does not make a rich man but a humpback. Exit. |
Vasia | What did he say! |
Landlord | He repeated that stupid peasant’s proverb, that work does not make a rich man but a humpback. |
Vasia | What does that mean? |
Landlord | It is supposed to mean that work makes a man’s back crooked, without ever making him rich. |
Vasia | But that is not true, is it? |
Father | Of course not. Those who tramp about like that man there and have no desire to work, are always poor. It’s only those who work, who get rich. |
Vasia | Why are we rich, then, when we don’t work? |
Mother | Laughing. How do you know father doesn’t work? |
Vasia | I don’t know, but since we are very rich, father ought to be working very hard. Is he, I wonder? |
Father | There is work and work. My work is perhaps work that everybody could not do. |
Vasia | What is your work? |
Father | My work is to provide for your food, your clothes, and your education. |
Vasia | But hasn’t he to provide all that also? Then why is he so miserable when we are so— |
Father | Laughing. What a self-made socialist, I say! |
Mother | Yes, people say: “A fool can ask more questions than a thousand wise men can answer.” Instead of “fool,” we ought to say “every child.” |