A. P. CHEKHOV COMEDY “THE SEAGULL” “The Seagull” is a comedy in four acts by A. P. Chekhov. The play was written in the years, first published in the 12th issue of 1896 of the magazine “Russian Thought”. The premiere took place on October 17, 1896 on the stage of the St. Petersburg Alexandrinsky Theater.

The action takes place in the estate of Pyotr Nikolaevich Sorin, who, after retirement, lives there with his sister’s son, Konstantin Gavrilovich Treplev. His sister, Irina Nikolaevna Arkadina, an actress, is visiting his estate with her lover, Boris Alekseevich Trigorin, a fiction writer. Konstantin Treplev himself is also trying to write. Those gathered at the estate are preparing to watch a play staged by Treplev amid natural scenery. The only role in it should be played by Nina Mikhailovna Zarechnaya, a young girl, the daughter of wealthy landowners, with whom Konstantin is in love. Nina's parents are categorically against her passion for theater, and therefore she must come to the estate secretly. Among those awaiting the performance are also Ilya Afanasyevich Shamraev, a retired lieutenant and Sorin’s manager; his wife Polina Andreevna and his daughter Masha; Evgeniy Sergeevich Dorn, doctor; Semyon Semenovich Medvedenko, teacher. Medvedenko is unrequitedly in love with Masha, but she does not reciprocate his feelings because she loves Konstantin Treplev. Finally Zarechnaya arrives. Nina Zarechnaya, all in white, sitting on a large stone, reads a text in the spirit of decadent literature, which Arkadina immediately notes. During the entire reading, the audience constantly talks over each other, despite Treplev’s comments. Soon he gets tired of this, and he, having lost his temper, stops the performance and leaves. Masha hurries after him to find him and calm him down.

Several days pass. The action moves to the croquet court. Nina Zarechnaya's father and stepmother left for Tver for three days, and this gave her the opportunity to come to Sorin's estate. Nina walks around the garden and is surprised that the lives of famous actors and writers are exactly the same as the lives of ordinary people. Treplev brings her a killed seagull and compares this bird with himself. Nina tells him that she completely stopped understanding him, since he began to express his thoughts and feelings with symbols. Konstantin tries to explain himself, but when he sees Trigorin appear, he quickly leaves. Nina and Trigorin are left alone. Nina admires the world in which Trigorin and Arkadina live. Trigorin paints his life as a painful existence. Having seen the seagull killed by Treplev, Trigorin writes in a book a new plot for a short story about a girl who looks like a seagull: “A man came by chance, saw her and, having nothing to do, killed her.”

A week passes. In the dining room of Sorin's house, Masha confesses to Trigorin that she loves Treplev and, in order to tear this love out of her heart, marries Medvedenko, although she does not love him. Trigorin is going to leave for Moscow with Arkadina. Nina Zarechnaya is also planning to leave, as she dreams of becoming an actress. Nina gives Trigorin a medallion containing lines from his book. Having opened the book in the right place, he reads: “If you ever need my life, then come and take it.” Trigorin wants to follow Nina, because it seems to him that this is the very feeling that he has been looking for all his life. Having learned about this, Irina Arkadina begs on her knees not to leave her. However, having agreed verbally, Trigorin agrees with Nina about a secret meeting in Moscow.

Two years pass. Sorin is already sixty-two, he is very sick, but also full of thirst for life. Medvedenko and Masha are married, they have a child, but there is no happiness in their marriage. Masha is disgusted by both her husband and child, and Medvedenko himself suffers greatly from this. Treplev tells Dorn, who is interested in Nina Zarechnaya, her fate. She ran away from home and became friends with Trigorin. They had a child, but soon died. Trigorin had already stopped loving her and returned to Arkadina. On stage, things turned out even worse for Nina. She played a lot, but very “rudely, tastelessly, with howls.” She wrote letters to Treplev, but never complained. The letters were signed by Chaika. Her parents don’t want to know her and don’t even let her near the house. marriage

Nina appears completely unexpectedly. Konstantin once again confesses his love and loyalty to her. Nina does not accept his sacrifices. She still loves Trigorin, which she admits to Treplev. She leaves for the province to play in the theater and invites Treplev to look at her play when she becomes a great actress. After she leaves, Treplev tears up all his manuscripts, then goes into the next room. Arkadina, Trigorin, Dorn and others gather in the room he left. A shot rings out. Dorn, saying that it was his bottle of ether that burst, leaves to follow the noise. Having returned, he takes Trigorin aside and asks him to take Irina Nikolaevna somewhere, because her son shot himself. manuscripts

Anton Pavlovich Chekhov reads "The Seagull" to the artists of the Moscow Art Theater.

I was very lucky that among the topics on Chekhov’s dramaturgy was the one included in the title of the essay. Not only because “The Seagull” is my favorite Chekhov play, but also because it is so precisely because of the comprehensive study of art and creativity that Chekhov carries out with brutal and surgical precision in his comedy. In fact, if I were asked what Chekhov’s other plays are about, I could, of course, highlight the theme of the moribund old life of the nobility and the vigorous but also cynical capitalism that is replacing it in The Cherry Orchard, the leaden abominations of Russian provincial life in "Uncle Vanya", "Three Sisters" and "Ivanov", while in each play one could fruitfully talk about superbly developed love lines, and about the problems that come to a person with age, and about much more. But “The Seagull” has it all. That is, like all other “comedies”, “scenes” and dramas, “The Seagull” is about life, like any real literature, but also about what is most important for a creative person, writing, like Chekhov himself, writing for theater and who created a new mask for the ancient muse of the theater Melpomene - about Art, about serving it and about how art is created - about creativity.
If they wrote about actors, their lives, their cursed and sacred craft back in ancient times, then the writers themselves started talking about the creator - the author of the text much later. The semi-mystical process of creativity began to be revealed to the reader only in the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century. Gogol in “Portrait”, Oscar Wilde in “The Picture of Dorian Gray”, J. London in “Martin Eden”, Mikhail Bulgakov in “The Master and Margarita”, and in our time His Majesty the Author is becoming almost the most beloved hero of prose writers and playwrights.
Now it is difficult to understand whether Chekhov, with his “The Seagull,” gave impetus to this research boom, or whether just any writer at some point comes to the need to figure out how he writes, how his description and perception of reality relates to life itself, why he needs this himself and the people, what it brings to them, where he stands among other creators.
Almost all of these questions are posed and resolved in one way or another in the play "The Seagull". "The Seagull" is Chekhov's most theatrical play, because it stars writers Trigorin and Treplev and two actresses - Arkadina and Zarechnaya. In the best Shakespearean traditions, another scene is symbolically present on the stage; at the beginning of the play there is a beautiful, mysterious, promising scene with natural scenery, as if saying to both the audience and the participants in the big performance taking place in the estate: “It will still be. The play has just begun. Look!" and in the end - ominous, dilapidated, useless to anyone, which is too lazy to take apart or is simply scary. “Finita la comedia,” the participants in this “human comedy” could say, if according to Balzac. The curtain closes. Isn’t it the case in “Hamlet” that the traveling comedians reveal what people cannot say to each other openly and directly, but are forced to play life much more subtly than the actors do?

I would not be afraid to say that Art, Creativity and the attitude towards them are perhaps one of the most important characters in comedy, if not the main characters. It is with the touch of art, as well as love, that Chekhov trusts and rules his heroes. And it turns out right - neither art nor love forgives lies, false pretense, self-deception, and momentariness. Moreover, as always in this world, and in the world of Chekhov’s characters, in particular, it is not the scoundrel who is rewarded, but the conscientious one who is rewarded for being wrong. Arkadina lies both in art and in love, she is a craftsman, which in itself is commendable, but a craft without the spark of God, without self-denial, without the “intoxication” on the stage, to which Zarechnaya comes, is nothing, it is day labor, it is a lie. However, Arkadina triumphs in everything - both in the possession of tinsel success in life, and in forced love, and in the worship of the crowd. She is well-fed, youthful, “in tune”, self-satisfied, as only very narrow-minded people who are always right in everything can be, and what does she care about the art that she, in fact, serves? For her, this is just a tool with the help of which she ensures a comfortable existence for herself, indulges her vanity, and keeps with her someone she does not even love, no, a fashionable and interesting person. This is not a shrine. And Arkadina is not a priestess. Of course, we shouldn’t simplify her image; there are also interesting features in her that destroy the flat image, but we are talking about serving art, not about how she knows how to bandage wounds. If it were possible to expand Pushkin’s phrase about the incompatibility of genius and villainy, projecting it onto art and all its servants, among whom are geniuses, as Pushkin’s Mozart said - “you and me,” that is, not so many, and with the help of this criterion to check the servants of art depicted in the play, there would probably only be left Zarechnaya - pure, slightly exalted, strange, naive and so cruelly paid for all her sweet Turgenev qualities - paid with fate, faith, ideals, love, simple human life.
But the fact of the matter is that, apart from Arkadina, of the people associated with art in “The Seagull,” not a single one lives a simple human life, or can live. Art simply does not allow Chekhov’s heroes to do this, demanding sacrifices everywhere and continuously, in everything, everywhere and everywhere, contradicting Pushkin’s formulation “Until Apollo demands the poet to make a sacred sacrifice...”. Neither Treplev, nor Trigorin, nor Zarechnaya are able to live normally, because Apollo demands them to make a sacred sacrifice every second, for Trigorin this becomes almost a painful mania. He seems to confirm the old joke that the difference between writers and graphomaniacs is that the former get published, and the latter do not. Well, this difference between Trigorin and Treplev will disappear in just two years, between the third and fourth acts.
Well, who is the priest, restless, obsessed, tireless and merciless to himself, it is Trigorin. For him, according to the old Russian proverb, “hunting is worse than bondage”; If for Nina the biggest dream is creativity and fame, then for him it is fishing and life on the shore of an enchanted lake, far from the mad crowd. From the small evidence that is scattered throughout the pages of the play, one can judge that Trigorin is indeed talented. This neck of a bottle glinting on the bridge, and the shadow of a wheel in the moonlight, this amazing phrase about life that you can “come and take” - all this is written not so much worse than those Greats with whom Trigorin is constantly compared, tormenting and forcing him to doubt both in your gift and in the need to engage in creativity. However, for him creativity is not just bread, fun and fans, as for Arkadina, for him it is both a painful illness and an obsession, but also synonymous with life. He ruins Nina not because he is a villain, he just doesn’t live. He only writes. He is unable to understand the vitality of the allegory with the seagull, which became not an entertaining plot for a story, but a providence of what would happen to a living person, and to a woman who loved him with all the sincerity and strength of which she was generally capable. I can’t bring myself to blame Trigorin. He's not a scoundrel. He is a priest. He is blind and deaf to everything except his notebooks, he sees only images. He is Salieri, unable to realize that he is tearing music apart like a corpse. Taking landscapes into talented, even ingenious miniatures, he turns them into still lifes, natur mort - dead nature. Even understanding the civic tasks of his work, the responsibility for the word to the reader, the “educational function of art,” he does not feel within himself the ability to do anything in this field - this is not the right talent. But a poet in Russia is more than a poet.

Naive Nina! From her point of view, “whoever has experienced the pleasure of creativity, for him all other pleasures no longer exist.”

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FEDERAL AGENCY FOR EDUCATION

State educational institution of higher professional education

CHELYABINSK STATE UNIVERSITY

Department of Industries and Markets IECOBiA

“Analysis of the play by A.P. Chekhov's "The Seagull"

Performed:

student gr. 22

Petrova I.V.

Chelyabinsk

Introduction

1. Brief summary of the work

2. Interpretation of the play “The Seagull”

2.1 “The Seagull” R.K. Shchedrin

2.2 “The Seagull” by B. Akunin

3. Effective psychological analysis of “The Seagull” as the basis of literary interpretation

3.1 Subtext or "undercurrent" of the play

3.2 Director's analysis of the play

Conclusion

Literature

Introduction

Anton Pavlovich Chekhov is a Russian writer, author of short stories, novels and plays, recognized as one of the greatest writers in world literature. Chekhov created four works that have become classics of world drama, and his best stories are highly appreciated by writers and critics.

In 1895–1896, the play “The Seagull” was written and first published in the 12th issue of the 1896 magazine “Russian Thought”. The premiere of the ballet “The Seagull” took place on October 17, 1896 on the stage of the St. Petersburg Alexandrinsky Theater. However, this premiere was not a success.

In 1896, after the failure of The Seagull, Chekhov, who had already written several plays by that time, renounced the theater. However, in 1898, the production of “The Seagull” by the Moscow Art Theater, founded by Stanislavsky and Nemirovich-Danchenko, was a huge success with the public and critics, which prompted Anton Chekhov to create three more masterpieces - the plays “Uncle Vanya”, “Three Sisters” and "The Cherry Orchard".

At first, Chekhov wrote stories only to earn money, but as his creative ambitions grew, he created new approaches to literature, greatly influencing the development of the modern short story. The originality of his creative method lies in the use of a technique called "stream of consciousness", later adopted by James Joyce and other modernists, and the absence of a final moral, so necessary in the structure of the classic story of that time. Chekhov did not seek to provide answers to the reading public, but believed that the role of the author was to ask questions, not to answer them.

Perhaps none of Chekhov's plays has caused so much controversy both among the writer's contemporaries and among later researchers of his work. This is not accidental, since it is with “The Seagull” that the formation of Chekhov as a playwright and his innovation in this field of literature are associated.

The diversity of approaches to Chekhov's work inevitably leads to the emergence of views that are sometimes directly opposite. One of these disagreements deserves special attention, since it has existed for many decades, - this is the dispute between theater scholars and philologists: “Often theater scholars, under the guise of research, propose and try to perform their performance on paper. The temptation to write about “my Chekhov” or “Chekhov in a changing world” is great, but let directors, writers, critics and artists do the essays and interpretations. What’s more interesting is “Chekhov’s Chekhov”... the view is not from the outside, from the audience, from our time, but from the inside – from the text, ideally – “from the author’s consciousness”.

The reasons for such distrust of philologists towards theater scholars and especially directors are clear: the latter’s quest is determined by the laws of the theater, which is sensitive to the needs of the time, and, therefore, is associated with the introduction into the work of subjective “non-Chekhovian” elements that are not acceptable in literary criticism. But if you look at the literary interpretations of The Seagull, it is easy to see that some productions still had a fairly strong influence on them. The first to highlight here is the Moscow Art Theater production of 1898, which is considered the most “Chekhovian”, despite all the author’s disagreements with the Art Theater, and the score by K.S. Stanislavsky for this performance. Komissarzhevskaya’s performance on the stage of the Alexandrinsky Theater in 1896 and especially her assessment by Chekhov himself for a long time tilted the sympathies of many researchers in favor of Zarechnaya. The productions of A. Efros (1966) and O. Efremov (1970) focused attention on the disunity of the heroes, their withdrawal into themselves, and although the performances were perceived as modernized Chekhov, the interest of philologists in this feature increased.

Speaking about the reasons for the gap between literary and stage interpretations, Z.S. Paperny expresses the idea that “the play turned out to be unattainable for full theatrical realization.” Each production of “The Seagull” reflected only its individual aspects, but as a whole the play “is wider than the capabilities of one theater.”

Shakh-Azizova, analyzing the trends of Chekhov's theater of the 60-70s, concludes that “epic thoroughness and tender lyricism are leaving the performances... the dramatic nature of Chekhov’s plays is exposed...” She sees the reason for this in a new solution to the issue of the role events that the theater not only highlighted emotionally, but also often brought to the stage what Chekhov himself tried to hide: “... the behavior of the heroes often became increasingly nervous and the audience was not so much hinted at, but directly indicated, what was in the heroes’ souls. ..”

Shah-Azizova sees the one-sidedness of the search in the fact that “the theater seeks to explore Chekhov’s theatricality in its pure form. For this purpose, it is isolated, extracted from the complex unity of drama, epic and lyric...” But literary studies also suffer from a similar deficiency, where drama completely falls out of sight.

In order to give a holistic analysis based on the correct relationship between the three principles (dramatic, epic and lyrical), it is necessary to overcome this gap. The difficulty here is that the performance is a new work of art, not amenable to unambiguous interpretation: the “Chekhovian” in it is inseparable from the “director’s”, from the individual characteristics of the actors and modern layers. Therefore, the way to bridge the gap is seen not in the analysis of productions and related materials, but in the application of some methods and techniques of literary text analysis used by directors for the purposes of literary interpretation.

But effective analysis, the problems of which this work is devoted to, cannot be associated exclusively with theatrical practice, where text analysis is inseparable from other tasks. Moreover, although directors who strive to follow human nature often turn to psychology and physiology to confirm their intuitive findings, in practical work they try not to use precise scientific terminology, developing their own language that is understandable to actors and helps awaken their creative imagination. Therefore, in this work, along with the use of practical experience of directors, a purely theoretical justification for effective analysis will be given, based on the psychological theory of activity.

When correlating action-psychological analysis with literary analysis, a completely fair question arises: what new are we introducing? After all, the essence of effective analysis is to restore the action in the broadest sense of the word: the actions of the characters, their motives, the events of the play - ultimately, the sequence of events or the plot. But when it comes to a work like “The Seagull,” this task turns out to be one of the most difficult. It is no coincidence that the question of the role of events in Chekhov’s dramaturgy causes so much controversy, and doubt often arises not only about what is an event and what is not, but whether they exist at all. Effective psychological analysis helps to obtain information about events, and is especially necessary in cases where such information is not expressed verbally.

The applied method of analysis allows us to objectify the picture of what is happening in “The Seagull”, paints something like a “panorama of the heroes’ lives”, restoring in time sequence all the events about which there is direct or indirect information in the play. In the context of this “panorama”, many previously noted features of the play will appear in a new way: lyricism, narrative, symbolism. The results of the analysis will allow us to reconsider the traditionally accepted position in literary criticism that in Chekhov’s drama there is no conflict based on the collision of different goals of the characters and that there is no trace of a “single stream of volitional aspiration” of the characters in Chekhov’s dramas.” This, in turn, makes it possible to talk about a new relationship between traditional and innovative elements in Chekhov’s dramaturgy.

The results of an effective analysis are not an interpretation and are themselves subject to further interpretation along with other elements of the form. The method used does not protect against subjective assessments and conclusions, and it cannot be said that the work provides the only correct answers to all the questions posed, but something else is obvious - these questions should not remain outside the field of view of literary scholars.

Brief summary of the work

The action takes place in the estate of Pyotr Nikolaevich Sorin. His sister, Irina Nikolaevna Arkadina, is an actress, visiting his estate with her son, Konstantin Gavrilovich Treplev, and Boris Alekseevich Trigorin, a fiction writer. Konstantin Treplev himself is also trying to write. Those gathered at the estate are preparing to watch a play staged by Treplev amid natural scenery. The only role in it should be played by Nina Mikhailovna Zarechnaya, a young girl, the daughter of wealthy landowners, with whom Konstantin is in love. Nina's parents are categorically against her passion for theater, and therefore she must come to the estate secretly. Among those awaiting the performance are also Ilya Afanasyevich Shamraev, a retired lieutenant and Sorin’s manager; his wife – Polina Andreevna and his daughter Masha; Evgeniy Sergeevich Dorn, doctor; Semyon Semenovich Medvedenko, teacher. Medvedenko is unrequitedly in love with Masha, but she does not reciprocate his feelings because she loves Konstantin Treplev. Finally Zarechnaya arrives. Nina Zarechnaya, all in white, sitting on a large stone, reads a text in the spirit of decadent literature, which Arkadina immediately notes. During the entire reading, the audience constantly talks over each other, despite Treplev’s comments. Soon he gets tired of this, and he, having lost his temper, stops the performance and leaves. Masha hurries after him to find him and calm him down.

Composition

The most important event in the life of A.P. Chekhov turned out to be a rapprochement with the Moscow Art Theater. On December 17, 1898, the first performance of “The Seagull” took place there. The performance was a great success and was a historical event in the life of the theater. From now on, the flying seagull became the emblem of the Moscow Art Theater.
"The Seagull", written by Chekhov in 1895-1896, differs sharply from previous plays in its lyricism, emphasized symbolism and a clearly defined clash of different views on art and life concepts. The love storyline occupies a significant place in The Seagull: this powerful, passionate feeling, to one degree or another, embraces all the characters in the play. Thus, one can simultaneously observe the development of relationships within several “love triangles” at once, which maintains the viewer’s intense attention throughout the entire action. Chekhov himself joked that in his “The Seagull” there are “five pounds of love...”.
The actress Arkadina is having an affair with the writer Trigorin, a bachelor at an advanced age. They understand things approximately equally and are each equally professional in their respective fields of art. Another pair of lovers is Arkadina's son Konstantin Treplev, who hopes to become a writer, and the daughter of a wealthy landowner Nina Zarechnaya, who dreams of becoming an actress. Then there are, as it were, falsely constructed pairs of lovers: the wife of the estate manager Shamraev, in love with the doctor, the old bachelor Dorn; the Shamraevs' daughter, Masha, unrequitedly in love with Treplev, who out of despair marries an unloved man. Even the former state councilor Sorin, a sick old man, admits that he sympathized with Nina Zarechnaya.
The sudden connection between Trigorin and Zarechnaya changed a lot in the lives of the characters in the play. The betrayal of a loved one, a faithful friend, stung Arkadina and brought unbearable pain to another person - Treplev, who sincerely loved Nina. He continued to love her when she went to Trigorin, and when she gave birth to a child from him, and when she was abandoned by him and became poor. But Zarechnaya managed to establish herself in life - and after a two-year break she reappeared in her native place. Treplev greeted her joyfully, believing that happiness was returning to him. But Nina was still in love with Trigorin, she was in awe of him, but she did not seek a meeting with him and soon suddenly left. Unable to bear the ordeal, Treplev shot himself.
Love, which engulfs almost all the characters, is the main action of The Seagull. But devotion to art is stronger than love. In Arkadina, both of these qualities - femininity and talent - merge into one. Trigorin is undoubtedly interesting precisely as a writer. In all other respects, he is a weak-willed creature and complete mediocrity. Out of habit, he trails after Arkadina, but leaves her when the opportunity arises to get along with the young Zarechnaya. You can explain such inconstancy of feelings to yourself by the fact that Trigorin is a writer, and a new hobby is a kind of new page in life, which has a chance to become a new page in the book. In part, this is true. We watch him write down in his notebook the thought that flashed through his mind about a “plot for a short story,” repeating exactly the life of Nina Zarechnaya: a young girl lives on the shore of a lake, she is happy and free, but by chance a man came, saw and “out of nothing to do" killed her. The scene in which Trigorin showed Zarechnaya the seagull killed by Treplev is symbolic. Treplev killed the bird - Trigorin kills Nina’s soul.
Treplev is much younger than Trigorin, he belongs to a different generation and in his views on art he acts as an antipode to both Trigorin and his mother. He himself believes that he is losing to Trigorin on all fronts: he has not succeeded as a person, his beloved is leaving him, his search for new forms was ridiculed as decadent. “I don’t believe and don’t know what my calling is,” Treplev says to Nina, who, in his opinion, has found her path. These words immediately precede his suicide
Thus, the truth remains with the average actress Arkadina, who lives with memories of her successes. Trigorin also enjoys constant success. He is smug and on his last visit to Sorina’s estate he even brought a magazine with Treplev’s story. But, as Treplev noted, all this is for show: “He read his story, but didn’t even cut mine.” Trigorin condescendingly informs Treplev in front of everyone: “Your admirers send their regards to you... In St. Petersburg and Moscow they are generally interested in you. And everyone asks me about you.” Trigorin would like not to let the question of Treplev’s popularity out of his hands; he would like to measure its measure himself: “They ask: what is he like? how old, brunette or blond. For some reason everyone thinks that you are no longer young.” This is how the ladies from Trigorin’s entourage are seen here; he tried to decolorize their questions even more. Trigorin literally erects a tombstone over a man whom he also robbed in his personal life. Trigorin believes that Treplev’s unsuccessful writing is further confirmation that Treplev is not worthy of any other fate: “And no one knows your real name, since you publish under a pseudonym. You are as mysterious as the Iron Mask." He does not suggest any other “mystery” in Treplev. If you listen more carefully to the characteristics of the heroes, to the definitions they give to each other, you can understand that Chekhov gives some preference to Treplev’s life position. Treplev's life is richer and more interesting than the sluggish, routine life that other heroes lead, even the most spiritual ones - Arkadina and Trigorin.
Chekhov sought to express his views on the problems of art through the lips of the characters in the play. Everyone in “The Seagull” talks about art, or more precisely about literature and theater, even the physician Dorn, who intrudes into the area of ​​spiritual creativity with his clumsy paradoxes. The reasoning mainly concerns Treplev's play, which is greeted and perceived with irony from the very beginning. Arkadina thinks that the play is pretentious, “it’s something decadent.” Zarechnaya, who plays the main role in it, reproaches the author for the fact that it is difficult to play the play: “There are no living faces in it,” “there is little action, only reading,” and in the play there must certainly be “love.” Of course, there is something pretentious in Treplev's statement. that his performance was booed only because the author “broke the monopoly” and created a play that was not similar to those that the actors were used to playing. Treplev has not yet proven his innovation. However, Arkadina understood Treplev’s far-reaching claims: “He wanted to teach us how to write and what to play.” Unexpectedly, Dorn, who is far from art, stands up for Trep-lev’s seemingly buried play. He rises above the scolding of “decadent nonsense.” In his opinion, Treplev is above both the philistine and petty advice of the teacher Medvedenko, who suggests playing on stage “how our brother-teacher lives,” and above Trigorin, who evaded assessments in art: “Everyone writes as he wants and as he can.” Dorn tries to support Trep-lev: “I don’t know, maybe I don’t understand anything or I’m crazy, but I liked the play. There's something about her." In Dorn's words, it is assumed that in the everyday art of Arkadina and Trigorin there are no big ideas, it does not affect the “important and eternal.”
In the play “The Seagull,” which simultaneously develops several love lines in the plot, Chekhov wanted not only to present an entertaining intrigue, but also to debunk the false paths of the heroes’ spiritual quest, leaving his sympathies on Treplev’s side.

Other works on this work

The main conflict of Chekhov's play "The Seagull" The theme of art in A. P. Chekhov's play "The Seagull" A.P. Chekhov. "Gull" The theme of honor and human dignity in one of the works of Russian drama" (A.P. Chekhov. "The Seagull").

Comedy in four acts

Characters

Irina Nikolaevna Arkadina, by Treplev’s husband, actress. Konstantin Gavrilovich Treplev, her son, a young man. Petr Nikolaevich Sorin, her brother. Nina Mikhailovna Zarechnaya, a young girl, the daughter of a wealthy landowner. Ilya Afanasyevich Shamraev, retired lieutenant, Sorin's manager. Polina Andreevna, his wife. Masha, his daughter. Boris Alekseevich Trigorin, fiction writer. Evgeniy Sergeevich Dorn, doctor. Semyon Semenovich Medvedenko, teacher. Yakov, worker. Cook . Housemaid .

The action takes place in Sorin's estate. Two years pass between the third and fourth acts.

Act one

Part of the park on the Sorina estate. The wide alley leading from the spectators into the depths of the park towards the lake is blocked by a stage hastily put together for a home performance, so that the lake is not visible at all. There are bushes to the left and right of the stage. Several chairs, a table.

The sun has just set. On the stage behind the lowered curtain, Yakov and other workers; Coughing and knocking are heard. Masha and Medvedenko are walking on the left, returning from a walk.

Medvedenko. Why do you always wear black? Masha. This is mourning for my life. I am not happy. Medvedenko. From what? (Thinking.) I don’t understand... You are healthy, your father, although not rich, is wealthy. Life is much harder for me than for you. I only receive 23 rubles a month, and they also deduct my emeritus, but still I don’t wear mourning. (They sit down.) Masha. It's not about the money. And the poor man can be happy. Medvedenko. This is in theory, but in practice it turns out like this: me, my mother, two sisters and a brother, and the salary is only 23 rubles. After all, do you need to eat and drink? Do you need tea and sugar? Do you need tobacco? Just turn around here. Masha (looking at the stage). The performance will start soon. Medvedenko. Yes. Zarechnaya will play, and the play will be composed by Konstantin Gavrilovich. They are in love with each other, and today their souls will merge in the desire to create the same artistic image. But my soul and yours have no common points of contact. I love you, I can’t sit at home out of boredom, every day I walk six miles here and six miles back and am met with nothing but indifference on your part. It's clear. I have no money, I have a big family... Why marry a man who himself has nothing to eat? Masha. Nothing. (Sniffs tobacco.) Your love touches me, but I cannot reciprocate, that’s all. (Hands him the snuff box.) Do yourself a favour. Medvedenko. Do not want. Masha. It must be stuffy and there will be a thunderstorm at night. You keep philosophizing or talking about money. In your opinion, there is no greater misfortune than poverty, but in my opinion, it is a thousand times easier to walk around in rags and beg than... However, you won’t understand this...

Sorin and Treplev enter from the right.

Sorin (leaning on a cane). It’s somehow not right for me, brother, in the village, and, of course, I’ll never get used to it here. Yesterday I went to bed at ten and this morning I woke up at nine with the feeling as if my brain was stuck to my skull from sleeping for a long time and all that. (Laughs.) And after lunch I accidentally fell asleep again, and now I’m all broken, experiencing a nightmare, in the end... Treplev. True, you need to live in the city. (Seeing Masha and Medvedenok.) Gentlemen, when it starts, you will be called, but now you can’t be here. Please go away. Sorin (Masha). Marya Ilyinichna, be so kind as to ask your dad to give orders to untie the dog, otherwise it will howl. My sister didn’t sleep all night again. Masha. Talk to my father yourself, but I won’t. Please excuse me. (To Medvedenk.) Let's go! Medvedenko (Treplev). So before you start, send me a word. (Both leave.) Sorin. This means that the dog will howl all night again. Here's the story: I never lived in the village as I wanted. It used to be that you take a vacation for 28 days and come here to relax and that’s it, but then they pester you so much with all sorts of nonsense that from the first day you want to get out. (Laughs.) I always left here with pleasure... Well, now I’m retired, there’s nowhere to go, after all. Whether you like it or not, live... Yakov (to Treplev). We, Konstantin Gavrilych, will go swimming. Treplev. Okay, just be there in ten minutes. (Looks at his watch.) It's about to start. Yakov. I'm listening. (Leaves.) Treplev (looking around the stage). So much for the theater. Curtain, then the first curtain, then the second and then empty space. There are no decorations. The view opens directly onto the lake and the horizon. We will raise the curtain at exactly half past eight, when the moon rises. Sorin. Fabulous. Treplev. If Zarechnaya is late, then, of course, the whole effect will be lost. It's time for her to be. Her father and stepmother are guarding her, and it is as difficult for her to escape from the house as from prison. (Adjusts his uncle's tie.) Your head and beard are disheveled. I should get a haircut or something... Sorin (combing his beard). The tragedy of my life. Even when I was young, I looked like I was a heavy drinker and that was it. Women have never loved me. (Sitting down.) Why is your sister in a bad mood? Treplev. From what? Bored. (Sitting down next to him.) Jealous. She is already against me, and against the performance, and against my play, because her fiction writer might like Zarechnaya. She doesn't know my play, but she already hates it. Sorin (laughs). Just imagine, right... Treplev. She is already annoyed that on this small stage it will be Zarechnaya who will be successful, and not she. (Looking at the clock.) Psychological curiosity my mother. Undoubtedly talented, smart, capable of crying over a book, will tell you everything about Nekrasov by heart, looks after the sick like an angel; but try praising Duse in front of her! Wow! You only need to praise her alone, you need to write about her, shout, admire her extraordinary performance in “La dame aux camélias” or in “Children of Life,” but since here in the village there is no such intoxication, she is bored and angry, and we are all her enemies, we are all to blame. Then, she is superstitious, afraid of three candles, the thirteenth. She's stingy. She has seventy thousand in the bank in Odessa - I know that for sure. And ask her for a loan, she will cry. Sorin. You imagine that your mother doesn’t like your play, and you’re already worried and that’s it. Calm down, your mother adores you. Treplev (tearing off the flower's petals). Loves does not love, loves does not love, loves does not love. (Laughs.) You see, my mother doesn’t love me. Still would! She wants to live, love, wear light blouses, but I am already twenty-five years old, and I constantly remind her that she is no longer young. When I’m not there, she’s only thirty-two years old, but when I’m there, she’s forty-three, and that’s why she hates me. She also knows that I do not recognize the theater. She loves the theater, it seems to her that she serves humanity, sacred art, but in my opinion, modern theater is a routine, a prejudice. When the curtain rises and in the evening light, in a room with three walls, these great talents, the priests of holy art, depict how people eat, drink, love, walk, wear their jackets; when they try to extract a moral from vulgar pictures and phrases, a small, easily understandable moral, useful in everyday life; when in a thousand variations they present me with the same thing, the same thing, the same thing, then I run and run, like Maupassant ran from the Eiffel Tower, which was crushing his brain with its vulgarity. Sorin. It’s impossible without the theater. Treplev. New forms are needed. New forms are needed, and if they are not there, then nothing better is needed. (Looks at his watch.) I love my mother, I love her very much; but she smokes, drinks, lives openly with this fiction writer, her name is constantly being trashed in the newspapers and it tires me. Sometimes the egoism of an ordinary mortal simply speaks to me; It’s a pity that my mother is a famous actress, and it seems that if she were an ordinary woman, I would be happier. Uncle, what could be more desperate and stupid than the situation: it used to be that her guests were all celebrities, artists and writers, and among them there was only one me - nothing, and they tolerated me only because I was her son. Who am I? What am I? I left the third year of university due to circumstances, as they say, beyond the editor’s control, no talents, not a penny of money, and according to my passport I am a Kiev tradesman. My father was a Kiev tradesman, although he was also a famous actor. So, when it happened that in her living room all these artists and writers turned their merciful attention to me, it seemed to me that with their glances they measured my insignificance, I guessed their thoughts and suffered from humiliation... Sorin. By the way, please tell me what kind of person her fiction writer is? You won't understand him. Everything is silent. Treplev. A smart, simple man, a little, you know, melancholy. Very decent. He will not be forty years old soon, but he is already famous and full, fed up... Now he drinks only beer and can only love older people. As for his writings, then... how can I tell you? Nice, talented... but... after Tolstoy or Zola you won’t want to read Trigorin. Sorin. And I, brother, love writers. I once passionately wanted two things: I wanted to get married and I wanted to become a writer, but neither one nor the other succeeded. Yes. And it’s nice to be a little writer, after all. Treplev (listens). I hear footsteps... (Hugs her uncle.) I can’t live without her... Even the sound of her steps is beautiful... I’m incredibly happy. (Quickly walks towards Nina Zarechnaya, who enters.) Sorceress, my dream... Nina (excitedly). I'm not late... Of course I'm not late... Treplev (kissing her hands). No no no... Nina. I was worried all day, I was so scared! I was afraid that my father would not let me in... But he has now left with his stepmother. The sky is red, the moon is already beginning to rise, and I drove the horse, drove it. (Laughs.) But I'm glad. (He shakes Sorin’s hand firmly.) Sorin (laughs). My eyes seem to be teary... Ge-ge! Not good! Nina. It's like this... You see how hard it is for me to breathe. I'll be leaving in half an hour, I have to hurry. You can’t, you can’t, for God’s sake don’t hold back. Father doesn't know I'm here. Treplev. In fact, it's time to start. We need to go call everyone. Sorin. I'll go and that's it. This minute. (Goes to the right and sings.)“Two grenadiers to France...” (Looks around.) Once I started singing the same way, and one of the prosecutor’s comrades said to me: “And you, Your Excellency, have a strong voice.”... Then he thought and added: “But. .. nasty.” (Laughs and leaves.) Nina. My father and his wife won't let me come here. They say that there are bohemians here... they are afraid that I will become an actress... But I am drawn here to the lake, like a seagull... My heart is full of you. (Looks around.) Treplev. We are alone. Nina. It seems like someone is there... Treplev. No one. Nina. What kind of tree is this? Treplev. Elm. Nina. Why is it so dark? Treplev. It’s already evening, everything is getting dark. Don't leave early, I beg you. Nina. It is forbidden. Treplev. What if I go to you, Nina? I will stand in the garden all night and look at your window. Nina. You can't, the guard will notice you. Trezor is not yet used to you and will bark. Treplev. I love you. Nina. Shh... Treplev (hearing steps). Who's there? Are you, Yakov? Yakov (behind the stage). Exactly. Treplev. Take your places. It's time. Is the moon rising? Yakov. Exactly. Treplev. Is there any alcohol? Do you have sulfur? When red eyes appear, you want it to smell like sulfur. (To Nina.) Go, everything is ready there. Are you nervous?.. Nina. Yes very. Your mother is okay, I’m not afraid of her, but you have Trigorin... I’m scared and ashamed to play in front of him... A famous writer... Is he young? Treplev. Yes. Nina. What wonderful stories he has! Treplev (coldly). I don't know, I haven't read it. Nina. Your piece is difficult to perform. There are no living persons in it. Treplev. Live faces! We must depict life not as it is, and not as it should be, but as it appears in dreams. Nina. There is little action in your play, only reading. And in the play, in my opinion, there must certainly be love...

Both go off the stage. Enter Polina Andreevna and Dorn.

Polina Andreevna. It's getting damp. Come back, put on your galoshes. Dorn. I feel hot. Polina Andreevna. You are not taking care of yourself. This is stubbornness. You are a doctor and know very well that damp air is harmful to you, but you want me to suffer; you deliberately sat on the terrace all evening yesterday... Dorn (hums). “Don’t say that you ruined your youth.” Polina Andreevna. You were so engrossed in conversation with Irina Nikolaevna... you didn’t notice the cold. Admit it, you like her... Dorn. I am 55 years old. Polina Andreevna. No big deal, for a man this is not old age. You are perfectly preserved and women still like you. Dorn. So what do you want? Polina Andreevna. You are all ready to prostrate yourself in front of the actress. All! Dorn (hums). “I am again before you...” If society loves artists and treats them differently than, for example, merchants, then this is in the order of things. This is idealism. Polina Andreevna. Women have always fallen in love with you and hung around your neck. Is this also idealism? Dorn (shrugging). Well? There were a lot of good things in women's relationships with me. They loved me mainly as an excellent doctor. About 10-15 years ago, you remember, in the entire province I was the only decent obstetrician. Then I have always been an honest person. Polina Andreevna (grabs his hand). My dear! Dorn. Quiet. They're coming.

Arkadina enters arm in arm with Sorin, Trigorin, Shamraev, Medvedenko and Masha.

Shamraev. In 1873, at a fair in Poltava, she played amazingly. One delight! She played wonderfully! Would you also like to know where the comedian Chadin, Pavel Semyonich, is now? In Rasplyuev he was inimitable, better than Sadovsky, I swear to you, dear one. Where is he now? Arkadina. You keep asking about some antediluvians. How do I know! (Sits down.) Shamraev (sighing). Pashka Chadin! There are no such people now. The stage has fallen, Irina Nikolaevna! Before there were mighty oaks, but now we see only stumps. Dorn. There are few brilliant talents now, it is true, but the average actor has become much taller. Shamraev. I can't agree with you. However, this is a matter of taste. De gustibus aut bene, aut nihil.

Treplev comes out from behind the stage.

Arkadina (to son). My dear son, when did it start? Treplev. After a minute. Please be patient. Arkadina (reads from Hamlet). "My son! You turned my eyes inside my soul, and I saw it in such bloody, such deadly ulcers - there is no salvation! Treplev (from Hamlet). “And why did you succumb to vice, looking for love in the abyss of crime?”

Behind the stage they play a horn.

Gentlemen, let's begin! Attention please!

I start. (He taps his stick and speaks loudly.) O you, venerable old shadows that flutter over this lake at night, put us to sleep, and let us dream of what will happen in two hundred thousand years!

Sorin. In two hundred thousand years nothing will happen. Treplev. So let them portray this as nothing to us. Arkadina. Let be. We are sleeping.

The curtain rises; overlooks the lake; the moon above the horizon, its reflection in the water; Nina Zarechnaya sits on a large stone, all in white.

Nina. People, lions, eagles and partridges, horned deer, geese, spiders, silent fish that lived in the water, starfish and those that could not be seen with the eye, in a word, all lives, all lives, all lives, having completed a sad circle, faded away ... For thousands of centuries the earth has not carried a single living creature, and this poor moon lights its lantern in vain. Cranes no longer wake up screaming in the meadow, and cockchafers are no longer heard in the linden groves. Cold, cold, cold. Empty, empty, empty. Scary, scary, scary.

The bodies of living beings disappeared into dust, and eternal matter turned them into stones, into water, into clouds, and the souls of them all merged into one. The common world soul is me... I... I have the soul of Alexander the Great, and Caesar, and Shakespeare, and Napoleon, and the last leech. In me, the consciousness of people has merged with the instincts of animals, and I remember everything, everything, everything, and I relive every life in myself again.

Swamp lights are shown.

Arkadina (quietly). It's something decadent. Treplev (pleadingly and reproachfully). Mother! Nina. I'm alone. Once every hundred years I open my lips to speak, and my voice sounds dull in this emptiness, and no one hears... And you, pale lights, do not hear me... In the morning a rotten swamp gives birth to you, and you wander until dawn, but without thought, without will, without the flutter of life. Fearing that life does not arise in you, the father of eternal matter, the devil, every moment in you, as in stones and in water, carries out an exchange of atoms, and you change continuously. In the universe, only spirit remains constant and unchanging.

Like a prisoner thrown into an empty deep well, I don’t know where I am or what awaits me. The only thing that is not hidden from me is that in a stubborn, cruel struggle with the devil, the beginning of material forces, I am destined to win, and after that matter and spirit will merge in beautiful harmony and the kingdom of world will will come. But this will only happen when little by little, after a long, long series of millennia, the moon, and bright Sirius, and the earth turn to dust... Until then, horror, horror...

Pause; Two red dots appear against the background of the lake.

Here comes my mighty enemy, the devil. I see his terrible crimson eyes...

Arkadina. It smells like sulfur. Is this necessary? Treplev. Yes. Arkadina (laughs). Yes, this is an effect. Treplev. Mother! Nina. He misses the person... Polina Andreevna(to Dorn). You took off your hat. Put it on, otherwise you'll catch a cold. Arkadina. It was the doctor who took off his hat to the devil, the father of eternal matter. Treplev (outburst, loudly). The play is over! Enough! A curtain! Arkadina. Why are you angry? Treplev. Enough! A curtain! Bring on the curtain! (Stamping his foot.) Curtain!

The curtain falls.

Guilty! I lost sight of the fact that only a select few can write plays and act on stage. I broke the monopoly! I... I... (He wants to say something else, but waves his hand and goes to the left.)

Arkadina. What about him? Sorin. Irina, you can’t treat young pride like that, mother. Arkadina. What did I tell him? Sorin. You offended him. Arkadina. He himself warned that it was a joke, and I treated his play as a joke. Sorin. Still... Arkadina. Now it turns out that he wrote a great work! Tell me please! Therefore, he staged this performance and perfumed it with sulfur not for a joke, but for demonstration... He wanted to teach us how to write and what to play. Finally, it gets boring. These constant attacks against me and heels, as you please, will bore anyone! A capricious, proud boy. Sorin. He wanted to please you. Arkadina. Yes? However, he didn’t choose any ordinary play, but made us listen to this decadent nonsense. For the sake of a joke, I’m ready to listen to nonsense, but this is a claim to new forms, to a new era in art. But, in my opinion, there are no new forms here, but simply a bad character. Trigorin. Everyone writes as they want and as they can. Arkadina. Let him write as he wants and as he can, just let him leave me alone. Dorn. Jupiter, you're angry... Arkadina. I am not Jupiter, but a woman. (Lights a cigarette.) I’m not angry, I’m just annoyed that the young man is spending his time so boringly. I didn't want to offend him. Medvedenko. No one has any reason to separate spirit from matter, since, perhaps, spirit itself is a collection of material atoms. (Quickly, to Trigorin.) But, you know, we could describe in a play and then perform on stage how our brother, the teacher, lives. Life is hard, hard! Arkadina. This is fair, but let's not talk about plays or atoms. Such a nice evening! Do you hear, gentlemen, singing? (Listens.) How good! Polina Andreevna. It's on the other side. Arkadina (to Trigorin). Sit next to me. About 10-15 years ago, here on the lake, music and singing were heard continuously almost every night. There are six landowners' estates on the shore. I remember laughter, noise, shooting, and all the novels, novels... Jeune premier and the idol of all these six estates was then, I recommend (nods at Dorn), Dr. Evgeniy Sergeich. And now he is charming, but then he was irresistible. However, my conscience begins to torment me. Why did I offend my poor boy? I'm restless. (Loudly.) Kostya! Son! Kostya! Masha. I'll go look for him. Arkadina. Please, honey. Masha (goes left). Aw! Konstantin Gavrilovich!.. Hey! (Leaves.) Nina (coming out from behind the stage.) Obviously there will be no continuation, I can leave. Hello! (Kisses Arkadina and Polina Andreevna.) Sorin. Bravo! Bravo! Arkadina. Bravo! Bravo! We admired. With such an appearance, with such a wonderful voice, it is impossible, it is a sin to sit in the village. You must have talent. Do you hear? You must go on stage! Nina. Oh, this is my dream! (Sighing.) But it will never come true. Arkadina. Who knows? Let me introduce you: Trigorin, Boris Alekseevich. Nina. Oh, I'm so glad... (Confused.) I always read you... Arkadina (seating her next to her). Don't be embarrassed, honey. He is a celebrity, but he has a simple soul! You see, he himself was embarrassed. Dorn. I guess I can raise the curtain now, it's creepy. Shamraev (loudly). Yakov, raise the curtain, brother!

The curtain rises.

Nina (to Trigorin). Isn't it a strange play? Trigorin. I did not get anything. However, I watched with pleasure. You played so sincerely. And the decoration was wonderful.

There must be a lot of fish in this lake.

Nina. Yes. Trigorin. I love fishing. For me there is no greater pleasure than sitting on the shore in the evening and looking at the float. Nina. But, I think, whoever has experienced the pleasure of creativity, for him all other pleasures no longer exist. Arkadina (laughing). Don't say that. When good words are spoken to him, he fails. Shamraev. I remember that in Moscow, at the opera house, the famous Silva once took the lower C. And at this time, as if on purpose, a bass from our synodal choristers was sitting in the gallery, and suddenly, you can imagine our extreme amazement, we hear from the gallery: “Bravo, Silva!” a whole octave lower... Like this (in a low bass voice): bravo, Silva... The theater froze. Dorn. A quiet angel flew by. Nina. It's time for me to go. Farewell. Arkadina. Where? Where to go so early? We won't let you in. Nina. Dad is waiting for me. Arkadina. What kind of guy is he, really... (They kiss.) Well, what to do. It's a pity, it's a pity to let you go. Nina. If you only knew how hard it is for me to leave! Arkadina. Someone would accompany you, my baby. Nina (scared). Oh no no! Sorin (to her, pleadingly). Stay! Nina. I can’t, Pyotr Nikolaevich. Sorin. Stay for one hour and that's it. Well, really... Nina (thinking through tears). It is forbidden! (Shakes hands and quickly leaves.) Arkadina. An unhappy girl, basically. They say that her late mother bequeathed her entire enormous fortune to her husband, every penny, and now this girl is left with nothing, since her father has already bequeathed everything to his second wife. It's outrageous. Dorn. Yes, her daddy is a decent brute, we must give him complete justice. Sorin (rubbing his cold hands). Come on, gentlemen, we too, otherwise it’s getting damp. My legs hurt. Arkadina. They look like wood, they can barely walk. Well, let's go, unfortunate old man. (Takes him by the arm.) Shamraev (giving his hand to his wife). Madam? Sorin. I hear the dog howling again. (To Shamraev.) Please, Ilya Afanasyevich, order her to be untied. Shamraev. It’s impossible, Pyotr Nikolaevich, I’m afraid that thieves will break into the barn. I have millet there. (To Medvedenko walking nearby.) Yes, a whole octave lower: “Bravo, Silva!” But he’s not a singer, just a simple synodal choirboy. Medvedenko. How much salary does a synodal choir receive?

Everyone leaves except Dorn.

Dorn (one). I don’t know, maybe I don’t understand anything or maybe I’m crazy, but I liked the play. There's something about her. When this girl talked about loneliness and then when the red eyes of the devil appeared, my hands trembled with excitement. Fresh, naive... It seems he is coming. I want to say more nice things to him. Treplev (enters). There is no one anymore. Dorn. I'm here. Treplev. Mashenka is looking for me all over the park. An intolerable creature. Dorn. Konstantin Gavrilovich, I really liked your play. It’s kind of strange, and I didn’t hear the end, but still the impression is strong. You are a talented person, you need to continue.

Treplev shakes his hand tightly and hugs him impulsively.

Wow, so nervous. Tears in my eyes... What do I want to say? You took the plot from the realm of abstract ideas. This was as it should be, because a work of art must certainly express some great thought. Only what is beautiful is what is serious. How pale you are!

Treplev. So you say continue? Dorn. Yes... But depict only the important and eternal. You know, I lived my life variedly and tastefully, I am satisfied, but if I had to experience the upsurge of spirit that artists experience during creativity, then, it seems to me, I would despise my material shell and everything that is characteristic of this shell , and would be carried away from the ground further into the heights. Treplev. Sorry, where is Zarechnaya? Dorn. And here's another thing. The work must have a clear, definite idea. You must know why you are writing, otherwise if you go along this picturesque road without a specific goal, you will get lost and your talent will destroy you. Treplev (impatiently). Where is Zarechnaya? Dorn. She went home. Treplev (in despair). What should I do? I want to see her... I need to see her... I'll go...

Masha enters.

Dorn (to Treplev). Calm down my friend. Treplev. But I'll go anyway. I have to go. Masha. Go, Konstantin Gavrilovich, into the house. Your mother is waiting for you. She is restless. Treplev. Tell her I left. And I ask you all, leave me alone! Leave it! Don't follow me! Dorn. But, but, but, honey... you can’t do that... It’s not good. Treplev (through tears). Goodbye, doctor. Thank you... (Leaves.) Dorn (sighing). Youth, youth! Masha. When there is nothing more to say, they say: youth, youth... (Sniffs tobacco.) Mandrel (takes the snuffbox from her and throws it into the bushes). This is disgusting!

They seem to be playing in the house. Need to go.

Masha. Wait. Dorn. What? Masha. I want to tell you again. I want to talk... (Worrying.) I don't love my father... but my heart goes out to you. For some reason, I feel with all my soul that you are close to me... Help me. Help, otherwise I’ll do something stupid, I’ll laugh at my life, ruin it... I can’t go on longer... Dorn. What? How can I help you?