y given at Famusov's house, Chatsky is determined to
find out whom Sophia loves. He decides it is Molchalin, and lets fall
a few biting sarcasms about him to Sophia; and Sophia, to pay him back
for his sarcasm, lets it be understood by one of the guests that he is
mad. The half-spoken hint spreads like lightning; and the spreading of
the news is depicted in a series of inimitable scenes. Chatsky enters
while the subject is being discussed, and delivers a long tirade on
the folly of Moscow society, which only confirms the suspicions of the
guests; and he finds when he gets to the end of his speech that he is
speaking to an empty room.

In the fourth act we see the guests leaving the house after the
party. Chatsky is waiting for his carriage. Sophia appears on the
staircase and calls Molchalin. Chatsky, hearing her voice, hides
behind a pillar. Liza, Sophia's maid, comes to fetch Molchalin, and
knocks at his door. Molchalin comes out, and not knowing that Sophia
or Chatsky are within hearing, makes love to Liza and tells her that
he only loves Sophia out of duty. Then Sophia appears, having heard
everything. Molchalin falls on his knees to her: she is quite
inexorable. Chatsky comes forward and begins to speak his mind--when
all is interrupted by the arrival of Famusov, who speaks his. Chatsky
shakes the dust of the house and of Moscow off his feet, and Sophia is
left without Chatsky and without Molchalin.

The _Gore ot Uma_ is a masterpiece of satire rather than a masterpiece
of dramatic comedy. That is to say that, as a satire of the Moscow
society of the day and of the society of yesterday, and of to-morrow,
it is immortal, and forms a complete work: but as a comedy it does
not. Almost every scene separately is perfect in itself, but
dramatically it does not group itself round one central idea or one
mainspring of action. Judged from the point of view of dramatic
propriety, the behaviour of the hero is wildly improbable throughout;
there is no reason for the spectator to think he should be in love
with Sophia; if he is, there is no reason for him to behave as he
does; if a man behaved like that, declaiming at an evening party long
speeches on the decay of the times, the most frivolous of societies
would be justified in thinking him mad.

Pushkin hit on the weak point of the play as a play when he wrote: "In
_The Misfortune of being Clever_ the question arises, Who is clever?
and the answer is Griboyedov. Chatsky is