The Plays of Anton Chekhov Page 17

  DORN : You wanted to become a Full State Councillor1 — and did.

  SORIN [laughing] : I didn’t aim to. That just happened.

  DORN : To express dissatisfaction with one’s life at the age of sixty-two - you must agree — is small-minded.

  SORIN : What a grouch you are. You must understand, I want to live.

  DORN : That’s silliness. By the laws of nature all forms of life must have an end.

  SORIN : You are reasoning like a well-fed man. You’re well-fed and therefore indifferent to life, it’s all the same to you. But you too will be frightened of dying.

  DORN : The fear of death is an animal fear ... One must overcome it. Only those who believe in eternal life, who are fearful because of their sins, are consciously afraid of death. But firstly, you are a non-believer, and secondly, what are your sins? For twenty-five years you worked in the Department of Justice — that’s all.

  SORIN [laughing] : Twenty-eight ...

  [TREPLYOV enters and sits down on a stool at Sorin’s feet. MASHA doesn’t take her eyes off him the whole time.]

  DORN : We’re stopping Konstantin Gavrilovich working.

  TREPLYOV : No, it doesn’t matter.

  [A pause.]

  MEDVEDENKO : Can I ask you, doctor, which foreign city you liked most?

  DORN : Genoa.2

  MEDVEDENKO : Why Genoa?

  DORN : It has an exceptional street crowd. When you go out of your hotel in the evening, the whole street is jammed with people. Then you move aimlessly in the crowd, this way, that way, zigzagging about, you live together with the crowd, you merge with it spiritually and you begin to believe in the possibility of a single universal spirit, like the one Nina Zarechnaya once acted in your play. By the way, where is Nina now? Where is she, and what’s she doing?

  TREPLYOV : I think she’s well.

  DORN : Someone told me she was leading an odd kind of life. What happened?

  TREPLYOV : That, doctor, is a long story.

  DORN : Then make it a short one.

  [A pause.]

  TREPLYOV : She ran away from home and took up with Trigorin. Did you know that?

  DORN: I did.

  TREPLYOV : She had a child. The child died. Trigorin lost his love for her and returned to his previous attachments, as one might have expected. He’d never really left them but, with true lack of character, sort of made do in both places. As far as I can understand from what I heard, Nina’s personal life went completely wrong.

  DORN : And the stage?

  TREPLYOV : I think worse still. She made her debut in summer theatre outside Moscow, then went off to the provinces. At that time I kept my eye on her and for some while, wherever she went, I followed. She always went for big roles, but her acting was coarse, tasteless, full of noisy rhetoric and abrupt gestures. There were moments when she would show her talent in an exclamation or a death scene, but they were just moments.

  DORN : So, she really has talent?

  TREPLYOV : It was difficult to tell. She must have. I used to see her but she didn’t want to see me and the maid wouldn’t let me into her room. I understood her mood and didn’t insist on our meeting.

  [A pause.]

  What more can I tell you? Later, when I’d returned home, I got letters from her. Letters that were intelligent, warm, interesting; she didn’t complain but I felt she was deeply unhappy; every line was a painful nerve, stretched tight. And her imagination was rather deranged. She’d sign herself ‘Seagull’. In Rusalka3the Miller says he is a raven, in the same way in her letters she kept on saying she was a seagull. She’s here now.

  DORN : What do you mean here?

  TREPLYOV : At an inn in the town. She’s been in a room there for the last five days. I would have gone to see her and Marya Ilyinichna did go, but she won’t receive anyone. Semyon Semyonovich assures us he saw her yesterday in the fields two versts from here.

  MEDVEDENKO : Yes, I did see her. She was walking in the other direction, towards the town. I bowed and asked her why she didn’t pay us a visit. She said she would.

  TREPLYOV : She won’t come.

  [A pause.]

  Her father and stepmother don’t want to know her. They’ve put guards everywhere to prevent her from coming anywhere near the house. [Walks away with the doctor to the desk.] How easy it is, doctor, to be a philosopher on paper, and how difficult in life!

  SORIN : She was a delightful girl.

  DORN : What?

  SORIN : I said she was a delightful girl. Full State Councillor Sorin was even in love with her for a time.

  DORN : You old goat.

  [Shamrayev’s laugh is heard.]

  POLINA ANDREYEVNA : I think they’ve come from the station ...

  TREPLYOV : Yes, I can hear Mama.

  [Enter ARKADINA with TRIGORIN, followed by SHAMRAYEV.]

  SHAMRAYEV [coming in]: We all become old and weathered under the influence of the elements, but you, dear lady, are still young ... A bright-coloured blouse, sparkle ... grace ...

  ARKADINA : You want to bring me bad luck again, you boring man!

  TRIGORIN [to Sorin] : Good evening, Pyotr Nikolayevich. So you’re still poorly? That’s not good. [Seeing Masha, with pleasure] Marya Ilyinichna!

  MASHA : You recognized me? [Shakes his hand.]

  TRIGORIN : Married?

  MASHA : Long ago.

  TRIGORIN : Are you happy? [Exchanges bows with Dorn and Medvedenko, then hesitantly goes towards Treplyov.] Irina Nikolayevna said you’ve forgotten the past now and have stopped being angry.

  [TREPLYOV extends him a hand.]

  ARKADINA [to her son]: Boris Alekseyevich has brought the magazine with your new story.

  TREPLYOV [taking it, to Trigorin] : Thank you. You’re very kind.

  [They sit down.]

  TRIGORIN : Your readers send you greetings ... In Petersburg and Moscow there’s a lot of interest in you and I’m always being asked about you. They ask what are you like, how old are you, are you dark or fair. Somehow everyone thinks you aren’t young. And since you write under a pseudonym no one knows your real name. You’re a mystery, like the Man in the Iron Mask.4

  TREPLYOV : Are you here for a long stay?

  TRIGORIN : No, tomorrow I think I’m going back to Moscow. I have to. I’m hurrying to finish a novel and then I’ve promised something for an anthology. In short — the same old story.

  [While they are talking ARKADINA and POLINA ANDREYEVNA put a card table in the middle of the room and open it; SHAMRAYEV lights candles and brings up chairs. They get a lotto5 board from the cupboard.]

  The weather has given me an unfriendly welcome. The wind is cruel. Tomorrow morning if it drops I’ll go down to the lake to fish. Incidentally, I must look at the garden and the place where your play was performed — do you remember? I’ve worked out a story, I just need to refresh the setting in my memory.

  MASHA [to her father]: Papa, let Semyon take a horse. He has to get home.

  SHAMRAYEV [imitating her] : A horse ... get home ... [Sternly] You saw yourself: they’ve just been sent to the station. They can’t be driven again.

  MASHA : But there are other horses ... [Seeing he is silent, throws up her hand.] Having to deal with you ...

  MEDVEDENKO : Masha, I’ll walk. Really ...

  POLINA ANDREYEVNA [sighing] : Walk, in weather like this ... [Sits down at the card table.] Ladies and gentlemen, come on.

  MEDVEDENKO : It’s only six versts ... Goodbye ... [Kisses his wife’s hand.] Goodbye, Mother.

  [His mother-in-law reluctantly gives him her hand to kiss.]

  I didn’t want to bother anyone, but the baby ... [Bows to all.] Goodbye ... [Goes out; his gait is apologetic.]

  SHAMRAYEV : He’ll probably make it on his feet. He doesn’t have to ride like a general.

  POLINA ANDREYEVNA [rapping on the table]: Come on, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s not waste time, soon we’ll be called to supper.

  [SHAMRAYEV, MASHA and DORN sit down at the tabl
e.]

  ARKADINA [to Trigorin] : When the long autumn evenings come on, we play lotto here. Just look: the old lotto board on which my mother used to play with us when we were children. Won’t you play a game with us before supper? [She and TRIGORIN sit down at the table.] It’s a boring game but if you get used to it it’s quite nice. [Deals everyone three cards.]

  TREPLYOV [turning the pages of the magazine]: He read his own story but he didn’t even cut the pages of mine. [Puts the magazine on the desk, then moves towards the left-hand door; as he goes past his mother, kisses her on the head.]

  ARKADINA : What about you, Kostya?

  TREPLYOV : I’m sorry, I don’t really want to ... I’ll go for a walk. [Goes out.]

  ARKADINA: The stake is ten kopecks. Will you ante for me, doctor?

  DORN : At your command.

  MASHA : Has everyone put down their stakes? I’m starting ... Twenty-two!

  ARKADINA : Yes.

  MASHA : Three!

  DORN: Yes.

  MASHA : You’ve put down three? Eight! Eighty-one! Ten!

  SHAMRAYEV : Don’t go so fast.

  ARKADINA : What a reception they gave me in Kharkov! Heavens, my head is still spinning.

  MASHA : Thirty-four!

  [Offstage the strains of a melancholy waltz.]

  ARKADINA : The students gave me an ovation ... Three baskets of flowers, two wreaths and this ... [Takes a brooch from her breast and throws it on the table.]

  SHAMRAYEV : Now, that’s something ...

  MASHA : Fifty! ...

  DORN : Fifty exactly?

  ARKADINA : I wore an amazing frock ... Whatever else, I know how to dress.

  POLINA ANDREYEVNA : Kostya’s playing. The poor boy’s depressed.

  SHAMRAYEV : The papers are very rude about him.

  MASHA : Seventy-seven!

  ARKADINA : Why pay any attention?

  TRIGORIN : He’s unlucky. He still can’t find his real voice. There’s something strange, ill-defined, at times even like delirium. Not one live character.

  MASHA : Eleven!

  ARKADINA [looking over at Sorin] : Petrusha, are you bored?

  [A pause.]

  He’s asleep.

  DORN : The Full State Councillor is asleep.

  MASHA : Seven! Ninety!

  TRIGORIN : If I lived in a country house like this, by a lake, would I start writing? I’d overcome that urge and just go fishing.

  MASHA : Twenty-eight!

  TRIGORIN : To catch a ruff or perch — what bliss!

  DORN : But I believe in Konstantin Gavrilych. There’s something there. There really is. He thinks in images, his stories are vivid, brightly coloured ... and I feel them strongly. It’s just a pity he has no definite objectives. He makes an effect, that’s all, and an effect on its own won’t get you far. Irina Nikolayevna, are you glad your son’s a writer?

  ARKADINA : Can you imagine, I still haven’t read him. I just have no time.

  MASHA : Twenty-six!

  [TREPLYOV quietly comes in and goes to his desk.]

  SHAMRAYEV [to Trigorin] : We’ve still got that thing of yours, Boris Alekseyevich.

  TRIGORIN : What thing?

  SHAMRAYEV : That time Konstantin Gavrilych shot a seagull and you asked me to get it stuffed.

  TRIGORIN : I don’t remember. [Thinking.] I really don’t.

  MASHA : Sixty-six! One!

  TREPLYOV [throwing open a window and listening]: It’s so dark. I don’t understand why I feel so anxious.

  ARKADINA : Shut the window, there’s a draught.

  [TREPLYOV shuts the window.]

  MASHA : Eighty-eight!

  TRIGORIN : Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve won.

  ARKADINA [merrily]: Bravo! Bravo!

  SHAMRAYEV : Bravo!

  ARKADINA : This gentleman is always lucky, everywhere. [Gets up.] And now let’s go and have something to eat. Our great man has had no dinner today. We’ll go on playing after supper. [To her son] Kostya, leave your manuscripts, let’s go and eat.

  TREPLYOV : I don’t want to, Mama, I’ve had enough to eat.

  ARKADINA : You know best. [Wakes Sorin.] Petrusha, supper! [Taking Shamrayev’s arm.] I shall tell you about my reception in Kharkov ...

  [POLINA ANDREYEVNA puts out the candles on the table, then she and DORN wheel the chair out. All leave by the left-hand door; only TREPLYOV isleft on the stage, at his desk.]

  TREPLYOV [getting ready to write; reads over what he has already written] : I’ve talked so much of new forms but now I feel I myself am slowly slipping into a rut. [Reading] ‘A poster on the wall proclaimed ... A pale face framed in dark tresses ...’ Proclaimed, framed ... that’s poor stuff. [Makes a deletion.] I’ll begin with the hero being woken by the noise of the rain, and everything else out. The description of the moonlit evening is long and forced. Trigorin has evolved his technique, it’s easy for him ... He has the neck of a broken bottle glistening on the sluice-gate and the darkling shadow of the mill wheel — there’s his moonlit night; but I have tremulous light and the quiet blinking of the stars and the distant sounds of a piano dying in the quiet perfumed air ... It’s torture.

  [A pause.]

  Yes, increasingly I conclude that it’s not a question of old and new forms but of a man writing without thinking of any forms, writing because it flows freely from his soul.

  [Someone knocks on the window nearest the desk.]

  What’s that? [Looks out of the window.] I can’t see anything. [Opens the French windows and looks into the garden.] Someone ran down the steps. [Calls.] Who’s there? [Goes out; he can be heard walking quickly along the terrace; in half a minute he returns with NINA ZARECHNAYA.] Nina! Nina!

  [NINA puts her head on his breast and tries to control her sobbing.]

  [With emotion] Nina! Nina! It’s you ... you ... I’ve been terribly low in spirit all day, as if I had a premonition. [Takes off her hat and cloak.] Oh my angel, my darling girl has come! We’re not going to cry, no we aren’t.

  NINA : Someone’s here.

  TREPLYOV : There’s no one.

  NINA : Lock the doors or they’ll come in.

  TREPLYOV : No one will come in.

  NINA : I know Irina Nikolayevna is here. Lock the doors.

  TREPLYOV [locking the right-hand door and going towards the left-hand one] : There’s no lock on this one. I’ll block it with an armchair. [Puts an armchair against the door.] Don’t be afraid. No one will come in.

  NINA [looking fixedly at his face]: Let me look at you. [Looking around.] It’s warm and nice ... This was a drawing-room then. Have I changed a lot?

  TREPLYOV : Yes ... You’re thinner and your eyes have become bigger. Nina, it’s strange somehow that I’m seeing you now. Why wouldn’t you let me come to you? Why haven’t you come here before now? I know you’ve been here nearly a week. I’ve been to you several times every day. I’ve stood below your window like a beggar.

  NINA : I was afraid you would hate me. Every night I dream that you’re looking at me and don’t recognize me. If you knew! Ever since I arrived I’ve been coming and walking here — by the lake. Many times I’ve been close to your house but I couldn’t bring myself to go in. Let’s sit down.

  [They sit.]

  We’ll sit and talk and talk. It’s nice here, warm and comfortable ... Do you hear — the wind. Turgenev has a passage: ‘Lucky is he who on such nights has the roof of a home above him, who has a warm nest.’6 I am a seagull ... No, that’s not right. [Rubs her forehead.] Where was I? Yes ... Turgenev ...‘And the Lord help all homeless wanderers ...’ Nothing’s the matter. [Sobs.]

  TREPLYOV : Nina, again you’re ... Nina!

  NINA : Don’t worry, I feel better for that ... I haven’t cried for two years. Late yesterday evening I went to look in the garden to see if our theatre was still there. And it’s still standing. I cried for the first time in two years, and I got relief, things became clearer in my heart. You see, I’m no longer crying. [Takes his hand.] And so, you’r
e a writer now ... You’re a writer, I’m an actress ... We’ve both been sucked into the whirlpool ... I used to live happily, like a child — I’d wake in the morning and start to sing; I loved you, I dreamed of being famous, but now? Off to Yelets early tomorrow morning, third class ... with the peasants, and in Yelets merchants with a bit of education will make up to me with their compliments. Life is crude!

  TREPLYOV : Why Yelets?

  NINA : I’ve taken an engagement for the whole winter. It’s time to leave.

  TREPLYOV : Nina, I cursed you, I hated you, I tore up your letters and photographs, but I knew every moment that my spirit is bound to you for ever. Nina, it’s beyond my power to stop loving you. Since I lost you and began to be published, life has been unbearable for me — I am suffering ... It’s as if my youth has been suddenly cut off and I feel as if I’ve lived out ninety years on this earth. I call you, I kiss the ground on which you’ve walked; wherever I look, everywhere I see your face, that tender smile which shone on me in the best years of my life ...

  NINA [bewildered]: Why is he talking like this, why is he talking like this?

  TREPLYOV : I’m lonely, I have no one’s affection to warm me, I’m cold as if I were in a cave underground, and whatever I write is all desiccated, stale, sombre. Stay here, Nina, I beg you, or let me go away with you!