TREPLIEFF. [Coldly] I have never read any of them, so I can't say.
NINA. Your play is very hard to act; there are no living characters in it.
TREPLIEFF. Living characters! Life must be represented not as it is, but as it ought to be; as it appears in dreams.
NINA. There is so little action; it seems more like a recitation. I think love should always come into every play.
NINA and TREPLIEFF go up onto the little stage; PAULINA and DORN come in.
PAULINA. It is getting damp. Go back and put on your goloshes.
DORN. I am quite warm.
PAULINA. You never will take care of yourself; you are quite obstinate about it, and yet you are a doctor, and know quite well that damp air is bad for you. You like to see me suffer, that's what it is. You sat out on the terrace all yesterday evening on purpose.
DORN. [Sings]
"Oh, tell me not that youth is wasted."
PAULINA. You were so enchanted by the conversation of Madame Arkadina that you did not even notice the cold. Confess that you admire her.
DORN. I am fifty-five years old.
PAULINA. A trifle. That is not old for a man. You have kept your looks magnificently, and women still like you.
DORN. What are you trying to tell me?
PAULINA. You men are all ready to go down on your knees to an actress, all of you.
DORN. [Sings]
"Once more I stand before thee."
It is only right that artists should be made much of by society and treated differently from, let us say, merchants. It is a kind of idealism.
PAULINA. When women have loved you and thrown themselves at your head, has that been idealism?
DORN. [Shrugging his shoulders] I can't say. There has been a great deal that was admirable in my relations with women. In me they liked, above all, the superior doctor. Ten years ago, you remember, I was the only decent doctor they had in this part of the country-and then, I have always acted like a man of honour.
PAULINA. [Seizes his hand] Dearest!
DORN. Be quiet! Here they come.
ARKADINA comes in on SORIN'S arm; also TRIGORIN, SHAMRAEFF, MEDVIEDENKO, and MASHA.
SHAMRAEFF. She acted most beautifully at the Poltava Fair in 1873; she was really magnificent. But tell me, too, where Tchadin the comedian is now? He was inimitable as Rasplueff, better than Sadofski. Where is he now?
ARKADINA. Don't ask me where all those antediluvians are! I know nothing about them. [She sits down.]
SHAMRAEFF. [Sighing] Pashka Tchadin! There are none left like him. The stage is not what it was in his time. There were sturdy oaks growing on it then, where now but stumps remain.
DORN. It is true that we have few dazzling geniuses these days, but, on the other hand, the average of acting is much higher.
SHAMRAEFF. I cannot agree with you; however, that is a matter of taste, de gustibus.
Enter TREPLIEFF from behind the stage.
ARKADINA. When will the play begin, my dear boy?
TREPLIEFF. In a moment. I must ask you to have patience.
ARKADINA. [Quoting from Hamlet] My son,
"Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;
And there I see such black grained spots
As will not leave their tinct."
[A horn is blown behind the stage.]
TREPLIEFF. Attention, ladies and gentlemen! The play is about to begin. [A pause] I shall commence. [He taps the door with a stick, and speaks in a loud voice] O, ye time-honoured, ancient mists that drive at night across the surface of this lake, blind you our eyes with sleep, and show us in our dreams that which will be in twice ten thousand years!
SORIN. There won't be anything in twice ten thousand years.
TREPLIEFF. Then let them now show us that nothingness.
ARKADINA. Yes, let them-we are asleep.
The curtain rises. A vista opens across the lake. The moon hangs low above the horizon and is reflected in the water. NINA, dressed in white, is seen seated on a great rock.
NINA. All men and beasts, lions, eagles, and quails, horned stags, geese, spiders, silent fish that inhabit the waves, starfish from the sea, and creatures invisible to the eye-in one word, life-all, all life, completing the dreary round imposed upon it, has died out at last. A thousand years have passed since the earth last bore a living creature on her breast, and the unhappy moon now lights her lamp in vain. No longer are the cries of storks heard in the meadows, or the drone of beetles in the groves of limes. All is cold, cold. All is void, void, void. All is terrible, terrible-[A pause] The bodies of all living creatures have dropped to dust, and eternal matter has transformed them into stones and water and clouds; but their spirits have flowed together into one, and that great world-soul am I! In me is the spirit of the great Alexander, the spirit of Napoleon, of Caesar, of Shakespeare, and of the tiniest leech that swims. In me the consciousness of man has joined hands with the instinct of the animal; I understand all, all, all, and each life lives again in me.
[The will-o-the-wisps flicker out along the lake shore.]
ARKADINA. [Whispers] What decadent rubbish is this?
TREPLIEFF. [Imploringly] Mother!
NINA. I am alone. Once in a hundred years my lips are opened, my voice echoes mournfully across the desert earth, and no one hears. And you, poor lights of the marsh, you do not hear me. You are engendered at sunset in the putrid mud, and flit wavering about the lake till dawn, unconscious, unreasoning, unwarmed by the breath of life. Satan, father of eternal matter, trembling lest the spark of life should glow in you, has ordered an unceasing movement of the atoms that compose you, and so you shift and change for ever. I, the spirit of the universe, I alone am immutable and eternal. [A pause] Like a captive in a dungeon deep and void, I know not where I am, nor what awaits me. One thing only is not hidden from me: in my fierce and obstinate battle with Satan, the source of the forces of matter, I am destined to be victorious in the end. Matter and spirit will then be one at last in glorious harmony, and the reign of freedom will begin on earth. But this can only come to pass by slow degrees, when after countless eons the moon and earth and shining Sirius himself shall fall to dust. Until that hour, oh, horror! horror! horror! [A pause. Two glowing red points are seen shining across the lake] Satan, my mighty foe, advances; I see his dread and lurid eyes.
ARKADINA. I smell sulphur. Is that done on purpose?
TREPLIEFF. Yes.
ARKADINA. Oh, I see; that is part of the effect.
TREPLIEFF. Mother!
NINA. He longs for man-
PAULINA. [To DORN] You have taken off your hat again! Put it on, you will catch cold.
ARKADINA. The doctor has taken off his hat to Satan father of eternal matter-
TREPLIEFF. [Loudly and angrily] Enough of this! There's an end to the performance. Down with the curtain!
ARKADINA. Why, what are you so angry about?
TREPLIEFF. [Stamping his foot] The curtain; down with it! [The curtain falls] Excuse me, I forgot that only a chosen few might write plays or act them. I have infringed the monopoly. I-I--
He would like to say more, but waves his hand instead, and goes out to the left.
ARKADINA. What is the matter with him?
SORIN. You should not handle youthful egoism so roughly, sister.
ARKADINA. What did I say to him?
SORIN. You hurt his feelings.
ARKADINA. But he told me himself that this was all in fun, so I treated his play as if it were a comedy.
SORIN. Nevertheless--
ARKADINA. Now it appears that he has produced a masterpiece, if you please! I suppose it was not meant to amuse us at all, but that he arranged the performance and fumigated us with sulphur to demonstrate to us how plays should be written, and what is worth acting. I am tired of him. No one could stand his constant thrusts and sallies. He is a wilful, egotistic boy.
SORIN. He had hoped to give you pleasure.
ARKADINA. Is that so? I notice, though, that he did
not choose an ordinary play, but forced his decadent trash on us. I am willing to listen to any raving, so long as it is not meant seriously, but in showing us this, he pretended to be introducing us to a new form of art, and inaugurating a new era. In my opinion, there was nothing new about it, it was simply an exhibition of bad temper.
TRIGORIN. Everybody must write as he feels, and as best he may.
ARKADINA. Let him write as he feels and can, but let him spare me his nonsense.
DORN. Thou art angry, O Jove!
ARKADINA. I am a woman, not Jove. [She lights a cigarette] And I am not angry, I am only sorry to see a young man foolishly wasting his time. I did not mean to hurt him.
MEDVIEDENKO. No one has any ground for separating life from matter, as the spirit may well consist of the union of material atoms. [Excitedly, to TRIGORIN] Some day you should write a play, and put on the stage the life of a schoolmaster. It is a hard, hard life.
ARKADINA. I agree with you, but do not let us talk about plays or atoms now. This is such a lovely evening. Listen to the singing, friends, how sweet it sounds.
PAULINA. Yes, they are singing across the water. [A pause.]
ARKADINA. [To TRIGORIN] Sit down beside me here. Ten or fifteen years ago we had music and singing on this lake almost all night. There are six houses on its shores. All was noise and laughter and romance then, such romance! The young star and idol of them all in those days was this man here, [Nods toward DORN] Doctor Eugene Dorn. He is fascinating now, but he was irresistible then. But my conscience is beginning to prick me. Why did I hurt my poor boy? I am uneasy about him. [Loudly] Constantine! Constantine!
MASHA. Shall I go and find him?
ARKADINA. If you please, my dear.
MASHA. [Goes off to the left, calling] Mr. Constantine! Oh, Mr. Constantine!
NINA. [Comes in from behind the stage] I see that the play will never be finished, so now I can go home. Good evening. [She kisses ARKADINA and PAULINA.]
SORIN. Bravo! Bravo!
ARKADINA. Bravo! Bravo! We were quite charmed by your acting. With your looks and such a lovely voice it is a crime for you to hide yourself in the country. You must be very talented. It is your duty to go on the stage, do you hear me?
NINA. It is the dream of my life, which will never come true.
ARKADINA. Who knows? Perhaps it will. But let me present Monsieur Boris Trigorin.
NINA. I am delighted to meet you. [Embarrassed] I have read all your books.
ARKADINA. [Drawing NINA down beside her] Don't be afraid of him, dear. He is a simple, good-natured soul, even if he is a celebrity. See, he is embarrassed himself.
DORN. Couldn't the curtain be raised now? It is depressing to have it down.
SHAMRAEFF. [Loudly] Jacob, my man! Raise the curtain!
NINA. [To TRIGORIN] It was a curious play, wasn't it?
TRIGORIN. Very. I couldn't understand it at all, but I watched it with the greatest pleasure because you acted with such sincerity, and the setting was beautiful. [A pause] There must be a lot of fish in this lake.
NINA. Yes, there are.
TRIGORIN. I love fishing. I know of nothing pleasanter than to sit on a lake shore in the evening with one's eyes on a floating cork.
NINA. Why, I should think that for one who has tasted the joys of creation, no other pleasure could exist.
ARKADINA. Don't talk like that. He always begins to flounder when people say nice things to him.
SHAMRAEFF. I remember when the famous Silva was singing once in the Opera House at Moscow, how delighted we all were when he took the low C. Well, you can imagine our astonishment when one of the church cantors, who happened to be sitting in the gallery, suddenly boomed out: "Bravo, Silva!" a whole octave lower. Like this: [In a deep bass voice] "Bravo, Silva!" The audience was left breathless. [A pause.]
DORN. An angel of silence is flying over our heads.
NINA. I must go. Good-bye.
ARKADINA. Where to? Where must you go so early? We shan't allow it.
NINA. My father is waiting for me.
ARKADINA. How cruel he is, really. [They kiss each other] Then I suppose we can't keep you, but it is very hard indeed to let you go.
NINA. If you only knew how hard it is for me to leave you all.
ARKADINA. Somebody must see you home, my pet.
NINA. [Startled] No, no!
SORIN. [Imploringly] Don't go!
NINA. I must.
SORIN. Stay just one hour more, and all. Come now, really, you know.
NINA. [Struggling against her desire to stay; through her tears] No, no, I can't. [She shakes hands with him and quickly goes out.]
ARKADINA. An unlucky girl! They say that her mother left the whole of an immense fortune to her husband, and now the child is penniless because the father has already willed everything away to his second wife. It is pitiful.
DORN. Yes, her papa is a perfect beast, and I don't mind saying so-it is what he deserves.
SORIN. [Rubbing his chilled hands] Come, let us go in; the night is damp, and my legs are aching.
ARKADINA. Yes, you act as if they were turned to stone; you can hardly move them. Come, you unfortunate old man. [She takes his arm.]
SHAMRAEFF. [Offering his arm to his wife] Permit me, madame.
SORIN. I hear that dog howling again. Won't you please have it unchained, Shamraeff?
SHAMRAEFF. No, I really can't, sir. The granary is full of millet, and I am afraid thieves might break in if the dog were not there. [Walking beside MEDVIEDENKO] Yes, a whole octave lower: "Bravo, Silva!" and he wasn't a singer either, just a simple church cantor.
MEDVIEDENKO. What salary does the church pay its singers? [All go out except DORN.]
DORN. I may have lost my judgment and my wits, but I must confess I liked that play. There was something in it. When the girl spoke of her solitude and the Devil's eyes gleamed across the lake, I felt my hands shaking with excitement. It was so fresh and naive. But here he comes; let me say something pleasant to him.
TREPLIEFF comes in.
TREPLIEFF. All gone already?
DORN. I am here.
TREPLIEFF. Masha has been yelling for me all over the park. An insufferable creature.
DORN. Constantine, your play delighted me. It was strange, of course, and I did not hear the end, but it made a deep impression on me. You have a great deal of talent, and must persevere in your work.
TREPLIEFF seizes his hand and squeezes it hard, then kisses him impetuously.
DORN. Tut, tut! how excited you are. Your eyes are full of tears. Listen to me. You chose your subject in the realm of abstract thought, and you did quite right. A work of art should invariably embody some lofty idea. Only that which is seriously meant can ever be beautiful. How pale you are!
TREPLIEFF. So you advise me to persevere?
DORN. Yes, but use your talent to express only deep and eternal truths. I have led a quiet life, as you know, and am a contented man, but if I should ever experience the exaltation that an artist feels during his moments of creation, I think I should spurn this material envelope of my soul and everything connected with it, and should soar away into heights above this earth.
TREPLIEFF. I beg your pardon, but where is Nina?
DORN. And yet another thing: every work of art should have a definite object in view. You should know why you are writing, for if you follow the road of art without a goal before your eyes, you will lose yourself, and your genius will be your ruin.
TREPLIEFF. [Impetuously] Where is Nina?
DORN. She has gone home.
TREPLIEFF. [In despair] Gone home? What shall I do? I want to see her; I must see her! I shall follow her.
DORN. My dear boy, keep quiet.
TREPLIEFF. I am going. I must go.
MASHA comes in.
MASHA. Your mother wants you to come in, Mr. Constantine. She is waiting for you, and is very uneasy.
TREPLIEFF. Tell her I have gone away. And for heaven's sake, all of you, leave me
alone! Go away! Don't follow me about!
DORN. Come, come, old chap, don't act like this; it isn't kind at all.
TREPLIEFF. [Through his tears] Good-bye, doctor, and thank you.
TREPLIEFF goes out.
DORN. [Sighing] Ah, youth, youth!
MASHA. It is always "Youth, youth," when there is nothing else to be said.
Selected plays Page 20