swan song-第2章

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canvas；　and　his　strange　little　tragicomedies　of　Russian　life；　his
〃Tedious　Tales；〃　as　he　called　them；　were　always　to　remain　his
masterpieces。

In　1890　Tchekoff　made　a　journey　to　the　Island　of　Saghalien；　after
which　his　health　definitely　failed；　and　the　consumption；　with
which　he　had　long　been　threatened；　finally　declared　itself。　His
illness　exiled　him　to　the　Crimea；　and　he　spent　his　last　ten　years
there；　making　frequent　trips　to　Moscow　to　superintend　the
production　of　his　four　important　plays；　written　during　this
period　of　his　life。

〃The　Sea…Gull〃　appeared　in　1896；　and；　after　a　failure　in　St。
Petersburg；　won　instant　success　as　soon　as　it　was　given　on　the
stage　of　the　Artists'　Theatre　in　Moscow。　Of　all　Tchekoff's　plays；
this　one　conforms　most　nearly　to　our　Western　conventions；　and　is
therefore　most　easily　appreciated　here。　In　Trigorin　the　author
gives　us　one　of　the　rare　glimpses　of　his　own　mind；　for　Tchekoff
seldom　put　his　own　personality　into　the　pictures　of　the　life　in
which　he　took　such　immense　interest。

In　〃The　Sea…Gull〃　we　see　clearly　the　increase　of　Tchekoff's　power
of　analysis；　which　is　remarkable　in　his　next　play；　〃The　Three
Sisters；〃　gloomiest　of　all　his　dramas。

〃The　Three　Sisters；〃　produced　in　1901；　depends；　even　more　than
most　of　Tchekoff's　plays；　on　its　interpretation；　and　it　is　almost
essential　to　its　appreciation　that　it　should　be　seen　rather　than
read。　The　atmosphere　of　gloom　with　which　it　is　pervaded　is　a
thousand　times　more　intense　when　it　comes　to　us　across　the
foot…lights。　In　it　Tchekoff　probes　the　depths　of　human　life　with
so　sure　a　touch；　and　lights　them　with　an　insight　so　piercing；
that　the　play　made　a　deep　impression　when　it　appeared。　This　was
also　partly　owing　to　the　masterly　way　in　which　it　was　acted　at
the　Artists'　Theatre　in　Moscow。　The　theme　is；　as　usual；　the
greyness　of　provincial　life；　and　the　night　is　lit　for　his　little
group　of　characters　by　a　flash　of　passion　so　intense　that　the
darkness　which　succeeds　it　seems　well…nigh　intolerable。

〃Uncle　Vanya〃　followed　〃The　Three　Sisters；〃　and　the　poignant
truth　of　the　picture；　together　with　the　tender　beauty　of　the　last
scene；　touched　his　audience　profoundly；　both　on　the　stage　and
when　the　play　was　afterward　published。

〃The　Cherry　Orchard〃　appeared　in　1904　and　was　Tchekoff's　last
play。　At　its　production；　just　before　his　death；　the　author　was
feted　as　one　of　Russia's　greatest　dramatists。　Here　it　is　not　only
country　life　that　Tchekoff　shows　us；　but　Russian　life　and
character　in　general；　in　which　the　old　order　is　giving　place　to
the　new；　and　we　see　the　practical；　modern　spirit　invading　the
vague；　aimless　existence　so　dear　to　the　owners　of　the　cherry
orchard。　A　new　epoch　was　beginning；　and　at　its　dawn　the　singer　of
old；　dim　Russia　was　silenced。

In　the　year　that　saw　the　production　of　〃The　Cherry　Orchard；〃
Tchekoff；　the　favourite　of　the　Russian　people；　whom　Tolstoi
declared　to　be　comparable　as　a　writer　of　stories　only　to
Maupassant；　died　suddenly　in　a　little　village　of　the　Black
Forest；　whither　he　had　gone　a　few　weeks　before　in　the　hope　of
recovering　his　lost　health。

Tchekoff；　with　an　art　peculiar　to　himself；　in　scattered　scenes；
in　haphazard　glimpses　into　the　lives　of　his　characters；　in
seemingly　trivial　conversations；　has　succeeded　in　so
concentrating　the　atmosphere　of　the　Russia　of　his　day　that　we
feel　it　in　every　line　we　read；　oppressive　as　the　mists　that　hang
over　a　lake　at　dawn；　and；　like　those　mists；　made　visible　to　us　by
the　light　of　an　approaching　day。


CHRONOLOGICAL　LIST　OF　THE　PRINCIPAL　WORKS　OF　ANTON　TCHEKOFF

PLAYS

〃The　Swan　Song〃　1889
〃The　Proposal〃　1889
〃Ivanoff　〃　1889
〃The　Boor〃　1890
〃The　SeaGull〃　1896
〃The　Tragedian　in　Spite　of　Himself〃　1899
〃The　Three　Sisters〃　1901
〃Uncle　Vanya〃　1902
〃The　Cherry　Orchard〃　1904

NOVELS　AND　SHORT　STORIES

〃Humorous　Folk〃　1887
〃Twilight；　and　Other　Stories〃　1887
〃Morose　Folk〃　1890
〃Variegated　Tales〃　1894
〃Old　Wives　of　Russia〃　1894
〃The　Duel〃　1895
〃The　Chestnut　Tree〃　1895
〃Ward　Number　Six〃　1897

MISCELLANEOUS　SKETCHES

〃The　Island　of　Saghalien〃　1895
〃Peasants〃　1898
〃Life　in　the　Provinces〃　1898
〃Children〃　1899




The　Swan　Song


CHARACTERS

VASILI　SVIETLOVIDOFF；　a　comedian；　68　years　old

NIKITA　IVANITCH；　a　prompter；　an　old　man

THE　SWAN　SONG

The　scene　is　laid　on　the　stage　of　a　country　theatre；　at　night；
after　the　play。　To　the　right　a　row　of　rough；　unpainted　doors
leading　into　the　dressing…rooms。　To　the　left　and　in　the
background　the　stage　is　encumbered　with　all　sorts　of　rubbish。　In
the　middle　of　the　stage　is　an　overturned　stool。

SVIETLOVIDOFF。　＇With　a　candle　in　his　hand；　comes　out　of　a
dressing…room　and　laughs＇　Well；　well；　this　is　funny！　Here's　a
good　joke！　I　fell　asleep　in　my　dressing…room　when　the　play　was
over；　and　there　I　was　calmly　snoring　after　everybody　else　had
left　the　theatre。　Ah！　I'm　a　foolish　old　man；　a　poor　old　dodderer！
I　have　been　drinking　again；　and　so　I　fell　asleep　in　there；
sitting　up。　That　was　clever！　Good　for　you；　old　boy！　＇Calls＇
Yegorka！　Petrushka！　Where　the　devil　are　you？　Petrushka！　The
scoundrels　must　be　asleep；　and　an　earthquake　wouldn't　wake　them
now！　Yegorka！　＇Picks　up　the　stool；　sits　down；　and　puts　the　candle
on　the　floor＇　Not　a　sound！　Only　echos　answer　me。　I　gave　Yegorka
and　Petrushka　each　a　tip　to…day；　and　now　they　have　disappeared
without　leaving　a　trace　behind　them。　The　rascals　have　gone　off
and　have　probably　locked　up　the　theatre。　＇Turns　his　head　about＇
I'm　drunk！　Ugh！　The　play　to…night　was　for　my　benefit；　and　it　is
disgusting　to　think　how　much　beer　and　wine　I　have　poured　down　my
throat　in　honour　of　the　occasion。　Gracious！　My　body　is　burning
all　over；　and　I　feel　as　if　I　had　twenty　tongues　in　my　mouth。　It
is　horrid！　Idiotic！　This　poor　old　sinner　is　drunk　again；　and
doesn't　even　know　what　he　has　been　celebrating！　Ugh！　My　head　is
splitting；　I　am　shivering　all　over；　and　I　feel　as　dark　and　cold
inside　as　a　cellar！　Even　if　I　don't　mind　ruining　my　health；　I
ought　at　least　to　remember　my　age；　old　idiot　that　I　am！　Yes；　my
old　age！　It's　no　use！　I　can　play　the　fool；　and　brag；　and　pretend
to　be　young；　but　my　life　is　really　over　now；　I　kiss　my　hand　to
the　sixty…eight　years　that　have　gone　by；　I'll　never　see　them
again！　I　have　drained　the　bottle；　only　a　few　little　drops　are
left　at　the　bottom；　nothing　but　the　dregs。　Yes；　yes；　that's　the
case；　Vasili；　old　boy。　The　time　has　come　for　you　to　rehearse　the
part　of　a　mummy；　whether　you　like　it　or　not。　Death　is　on　its　way
to　you。　＇Stares　ahead　of　him＇　It　is　strange；　though；　that　I　have
been　on　the　stage　now　for　forty…five　years；　and　this　is　the　first
time　I　have　seen　a　theatre　at　night；　after　the　lights　have　been
put　out。　The　first　time。　＇Walks　up　to　the　foot…lights＇　How　dark
it　is！　I　can't　see　a　thing。　Oh；　yes；　I　can　just　make　out　the
prompter's　box；　and　his　desk；　the　rest　is　in　pitch　darkness；　a
black；　bottomless　pit；　like　a　grave；　in　which　death　itself　might
be　hiding。。。。　Brr。。。。　How　cold　it　is！　The　wind　blows　out　of　the
empty　theatre　as　though　out　of　a　stone　flue。　What　a　place　for
ghosts！　The　shivers　are　running　up　and　down　my　back。　＇Calls＇
Yegorka！　Petrushka！　Where　are　you　both？　What　on　earth　makes　me
think　of　such　gruesome　things　here？　I　must　give　up　drinking；　I'm
an　old　man；　I　shan't　live　much　longer。　At　sixty…eight　people　go
to　church　and　prepare　for　death；　but　here　I　amheavens！　A
profane　old　drunkard　in　this　fool's　dressI'm　simply　not　fit　to
look　at。　I　must　go　and　change　it　at　once。。。。　This　is　a　dreadful
place；　I　should　die　of　fright　sitting　here　all　night。　＇Goes
toward　his　dressing…room；　at　the　same　time　NIKITA　IVANITCH　in　a
long　white　coat　comes　out　of　the　dressing…room　at　the　farthest
end　of　the　stage。　SVIETLOVIDOFF　sees　IVANITCHshrieks　with
terror　and　steps　back＇　Who　are　you？　What？　What　do　you　want？
＇Stamps　his　foot＇　Who　are　you？

IVANITCH。　It　is　I；　sir。

SVIETLOVIDOFF。　Who　are　you？

IVANITCH。　＇Comes　slowly　toward　him＇　It　is　I；　sir；　the　prompter；
Nikita　Ivanitch。　It　is　I；　master；　it　is　I！

SVIETLOVIDOFF。　＇Sinks　helplessly　onto　the　stool；　breathes　heavily
and　trembles　violently＇　Heavens！　Who　are　you？　It　is　you　。　。　。　you
Nikitushka？　What　。　。　。　what　are　you　doing　here？

IVANITCH。　I　spend　my　nights　here　in　the　dressing…rooms。　Only
please　be　good　enough　not　to　tell　Alexi　Fomitch；　sir。　I　have
nowhere　else　to　spend　the　night；　indeed；　I　haven't。

SVIETLOVIDOFF。　Ah！　It　is　you；　Nikitushka；　is　it？　Just　think；　the
audience　called　me　out　sixteen　times；　they　brought　me　three
wreathes　and　lots　of　other　things；　too；　they　were　all　wild　with
enthusiasm；　and　yet　not　a　soul　came　when　it　was　all　over　to　wake
the　poor；　drunken　old　man　and　take　him　home。　And　I　am　an　old　man；
Nikitushka！　I　am　sixty…eight　years　old；　and　I　am　ill。　I　haven't
the　heart　left　to　go　on。　＇Falls　on　IVANITCH'S　neck　and　weeps＇
Don't　go　away；　Nikitushka；　I　am　old　and　helpless；　and　I　feel　it
is　time　for　me　to　die。　Oh；　it　is　dreadful；　dreadful！

IVANITCH。　＇Tenderly　and　respectfully＇　Dear　master！　it　is　time　for
you　to　go　home；　sir！

SVIETLOVIDOFF。　I　won't　go　home；　I　have　no　homenone！
none！none！

IVANITCH。　Oh；　dear！　Have　you　forgotten　where　you　live？

SVIETLOVIDOFF。　I　won't　go　there。　I　won't！　I　am　all　alone　there。　I
have　nobody；　Nikitushka！　No　wifeno　children。　I　am　like　the　wind
blowing　across　the　lonely　fields。　I　shall　die；　and　no　one　will
remember　me。　It　is　awful　to　be　aloneno　one　to　cheer　me；　no　one
to　caress　me；　no　one　to　help　me　to　bed　when　I　am　drunk。　Whom　do　I
belong　to？　Who　needs　me？　Who　loves　me？　Not　a　soul；　Nikitushka。

IVANITCH。　＇Weeping＇　Your　audience　loves　you；　master。

SVIETLOVIDOFF。　My　audience　has　gone　home。　They　are　all　asleep；
and　have　forgotten　their　old　clown。　No；　nobody　needs　me；　nobody
loves　me；　I　have　no　wife；　no　children。

IVANITCH。　Oh；　dear！　Oh；　dear！　Don't　be　so　unhappy　about　it。

SVIETLOVIDOFF。　But　I　am　a　man；　I　am　still　alive。　Warm；　red　blood
is　tingling　in　my　veins；　the　blood　of　noble　ancestors。　I　am　an
aristocrat；　Nikitushka；　I　served　in　the　army；　in　the　artillery；
before　I　fell　as　low　as　this；　and　what　a　fine　young　chap　I　was！
Handsome；　daring；　eager！　Where　has　it　all　gone？　What　has　become
of　those　old　days？　There's　the　pit　that　has　swallowed　them　all！　I
remember　it　all　now。　Forty…five　years　of　my　life　lie　buried
there；　and　what　a　life；　Nikitushka！　I　can　see　it　as　clearly　as　I
see　your　face：　the　ecstasy　of　youth；　faith；　passion；　the　love　of
womenwomen；　Nikitushka！

IVANITCH。　It　is　time　you　went　to　sleep；　sir。

SVIETLOVIDOFF。　When　I　first　went　on　the　stage；　in　the　first　glow
of　passionate　youth；　I　remember　a　woman　loved　me　for　my　acting。
She　was　beautiful；　graceful　as　a　poplar；　young；　innocent；　pure；
and　radiant　as　a　summer　dawn。　Her　smile　could　charm　away　the
darkest　night。　I　remember；　I　stood　before　her　once；　as　I　am　now
standing　before　you。　She　had　never　seemed　so　lovely　to　me　as　she
did　then；　and　she　spoke　to　me　so　with　her　eyessuch　a　look！　I
shall　never　forget　it；　no；　not　even　in　the　grave；　so　tender；　so
soft；　so　deep；　so　bright　and　young！　Enraptured；　intoxicated；　I
fell　on　my　knees　before　her；　I　begged　for　my　happiness；　and　she
said：　〃Give　up　the　stage！〃　Give　up　the　stage！　Do　you　understand？
She　could　love　an　actor；　but　marry　himne