The Sea-Gull

by

Anton Checkov
A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS

A Publication of Penn State University’s Electronic Classics Series

The Sea-Gull by Anton Checkov is a publication of the Pennsylvania State University. This
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The Sea-Gull by Anton Checkov, the Pennsylvania State University, Electronic Classics Series,
Jim Manis, Faculty Editor, Hazleton, PA 18201-1291 is a Portable Document File produced as
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 Checkov
CHARACTERS

IRINA ABKADINA, an actress

The Sea-Gull CONSTANTINE TREPLIEFF, her son

PETER SORIN, her brother
NINA ZARIETCHNAYA, a young girl, the daughter of a rich

by landowner
ILIA SHAMRAEFF, the manager of SORIN’S estate
PAULINA, his wife
Anton Checkov MASHA, their daughter
BORIS TRIGORIN, an author
EUGENE DORN, a doctor
A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS SIMON MEDVIEDENKO, a schoolmaster
JACOB, a workman
A COOK
A MAIDSERVANT

The scene is laid on Sorin’s estate. Two years elapse be-

tween the third and fourth acts.

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 The Sea-Gull
THE SEA-GULL MEDVIEDENKO. Why should you be unhappy? [Thinking it
over] I don’t understand it. You are healthy, and though
ACT I your father is not rich, he has a good competency. My life
is far harder than yours. I only have twenty-three roubles
The scene is laid in the park on Sorin’s estate. A broad a month to live on, but I don’t wear mourning. [They sit
avenue of trees leads away from the audience toward a down].
lake which lies lost in the depths of the park. The avenue
is obstructed by a rough stage, temporarily erected for the MASHA. Happiness does not depend on riches; poor men
performance of amateur theatricals, and which screens are often happy.
the lake from view. There is a dense growth of bushes to
the left and right of the stage. A few chairs and a little MEDVIEDENKO. In theory, yes, but not in reality. Take my
table are placed in front of the stage. The sun has just set. case, for instance; my mother, my two sisters, my little
Jacob and some other workmen are heard hammering and brother and I must all live somehow on my salary of twenty-
coughing on the stage behind the lowered curtain. three roubles a month. We have to eat and drink, I take
it. You wouldn’t have us go without tea and sugar, would
MASHA and MEDVIEDENKO come in from the left, return- you? Or tobacco? Answer me that, if you can.
ing from a walk.
MASHA. [Looking in the direction of the stage] The play
MEDVIEDENKO. Why do you always wear mourning? will soon begin.

MASHA. I dress in black to match my life. I am unhappy. MEDVIEDENKO. Yes, Nina Zarietchnaya is going to act in

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Treplieff’s play. They love one another, and their two souls SORIN leaning on a cane, and TREPLIEFF come in.
will unite to-night in the effort to interpret the same idea
by different means. There is no ground on which your soul SORIN. For some reason, my boy, country life doesn’t suit
and mine can meet. I love you. Too restless and sad to me, and I am sure I shall never get used to it. Last night
stay at home, I tramp here every day, six miles and back, I went to bed at ten and woke at nine this morning,
to be met only by your indifference. I am poor, my family feeling as if, from oversleep, my brain had stuck to my
is large, you can have no inducement to marry a man who skull. [Laughing] And yet I accidentally dropped off to
cannot even find sufficient food for his own mouth. sleep again after dinner, and feel utterly done up at this
moment. It is like a nightmare.
MASHA. It is not that. [She takes snuff] I am touched by
your affection, but I cannot return it, that is all. [She TREPLIEFF. There is no doubt that you should live in town.
offers him the snuff-box] Will you take some? [He catches sight of MASHA and MEDVIEDENKO] You shall
be called when the play begins, my friends, but you must
MEDVIEDENKO. No, thank you. [A pause.] not stay here now. Go away, please.

MASHA. The air is sultry; a storm is brewing for to-night. SORIN. Miss Masha, will you kindly ask your father to
You do nothing but moralise or else talk about money. To leave the dog unchained? It howled so last night that my
you, poverty is the greatest misfortune that can befall a sister was unable to sleep.
man, but I think it is a thousand times easier to go beg-
ging in rags than to— You wouldn’t understand that, MASHA. You must speak to my father yourself. Please ex-
though. cuse me; I can’t do so. [To MEDVIEDENKO] Come, let us go.

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 The Sea-Gull
MEDVIEDENKO. You will let us know when the play begins? TREPLIEFF. [Looking at the stage] Just like a real theatre!
See, there we have the curtain, the foreground, the back-
MASHA and MEDVIEDENKO go out. ground, and all. No artificial scenery is needed. The eye
travels direct to the lake, and rests on the horizon. The
SORIN. I foresee that that dog is going to howl all night curtain will be raised as the moon rises at half-past eight.
again. It is always this way in the country; I have never
been able to live as I like here. I come down for a month’s SORIN. Splendid!
holiday, to rest and all, and am plagued so by their non-
sense that I long to escape after the first day. [Laughing] TREPLIEFF. Of course the whole effect will be ruined if
I have always been glad to get away from this place, but Nina is late. She should be here by now, but her father and
I have been retired now, and this was the only place I had stepmother watch her so closely that it is like stealing her
to come to. Willy-nilly, one must live somewhere. from a prison to get her away from home. [He straightens
SORIN’S collar] Your hair and beard are all on end. Oughtn’t
JACOB. [To TREPLIEFF] We are going to take a swim, Mr. you to have them trimmed?
Constantine.
SORIN. [Smoothing his beard] They are the tragedy of my
TREPLIEFF. Very well, but you must be back in ten min- existence. Even when I was young I always looked as if I
utes. were drunk, and all. Women have never liked me. [Sitting
down] Why is my sister out of temper?
JACOB. We will, sir.
TREPLIEFF. Why? Because she is jealous and bored. [Sit-

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ting down beside SORIN] She is not acting this evening, seventy thousand roubles in a bank at Odessa, but she is
but Nina is, and so she has set herself against me, and ready to burst into tears if you ask her to lend you a
against the performance of the play, and against the play penny.
itself, which she hates without ever having read it.
SORIN. You have taken it into your head that your mother
SORIN. [Laughing] Does she, really? dislikes your play, and the thought of it has excited you,
and all. Keep calm; your mother adores you.
TREPLIEFF. Yes, she is furious because Nina is going to
have a success on this little stage. [Looking at his watch] TREPLIEFF. [Pulling a flower to pieces] She loves me, loves
My mother is a psychological curiosity. Without doubt me not; loves—loves me not; loves—loves me not! [Laugh-
brilliant and talented, capable of sobbing over a novel, of ing] You see, she doesn’t love me, and why should she?
reciting all Nekrasoff’s poetry by heart, and of nursing the She likes life and love and gay clothes, and I am already
sick like an angel of heaven, you should see what happens twenty-five years old; a sufficient reminder to her that
if any one begins praising Duse to her! She alone must be she is no longer young. When I am away she is only thirty-
praised and written about, raved over, her marvellous act- two, in my presence she is forty-three, and she hates me
ing in “La Dame aux Camelias” extolled to the skies. As for it. She knows, too, that I despise the modern stage.
she cannot get all that rubbish in the country, she grows She adores it, and imagines that she is working on it for
peevish and cross, and thinks we are all against her, and the benefit of humanity and her sacred art, but to me the
to blame for it all. She is superstitious, too. She dreads theatre is merely the vehicle of convention and prejudice.
burning three candles, and fears the thirteenth day of the When the curtain rises on that little thr ee-walled room,
month. Then she is stingy. I know for a fact that she has when those mighty geniuses, those high-priests of art,

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 The Sea-Gull
show us people in the act of eating, drinking, loving, crowd of her guests, all celebrated authors and artists? I
walking, and wearing their coats, and attempt to extract feel that they only endure me because I am her son. Per-
a moral from their insipid talk; when playwrights give us sonally I am nothing, nobody. I pulled through my third
under a thousand different guises the same, same, same year at college by the skin of my teeth, as they say. I have
old stuff, then I must needs run from it, as Maupassant neither money nor brains, and on my passport you may
ran from the Eiffel Tower that was about to crush him by read that I am simply a citizen of Kiev. So was my father,
its vulgarity. but he was a well-known actor. When the celebrities that
frequent my mother’s drawing-room deign to notice me
SORIN. But we can’t do without a theatre. at all, I know they only look at me to measure my insig-
nificance; I read their thoughts, and suffer from humilia-
TREPLIEFF. No, but we must have it under a new form. If tion.
we can’t do that, let us rather not have it at all. [Looking
at his watch] I love my mother, I love her devotedly, but SORIN. Tell me, by the way, what is Trigorin like? I can’t
I think she leads a stupid life. She always has this man of understand him, he is always so silent.
letters of hers on her mind, and the newspapers are always
frightening her to death, and I am tired of it. Plain, hu- TREPLIEFF. Trigorin is clever, simple, well-mannered, and
man egoism sometimes speaks in my heart, and I regret a little, I might say, melancholic in disposition. Though
that my mother is a famous actress. If she were an ordi- still under forty, he is surfeited with praise. As for his
nary woman I think I should be a happier man. What stories, they are—how shall I put it?—pleasing, full of
could be more intolerable and foolish than my position, talent, but if you have read Tolstoi or Zola you somehow
Uncle, when I find myself the only nonentity among a don’t enjoy Trigorin.

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 Checkov
SORIN. Do you know, my boy, I like literary men. I once you! [She shakes hands with Sorin.]
passionately desired two things: to marry, and to become
an author. I have succeeded in neither. It must be pleas- SORIN. Oho! Your eyes look as if you had been crying. You
ant to be even an insignificant author. mustn’t do that.

TREPLIEFF. [Listening] I hear footsteps! [He embraces his NINA. It is nothing, nothing. Do let us hurry. I must go in
uncle] I cannot live without her; even the sound of her half an hour. No, no, for heaven’s sake do not urge me to
footsteps is music to me. I am madly happy. [He goes stay. My father doesn’t know I am here.
quickly to meet NINA, who comes in at that moment] My
enchantress! My girl of dreams! TREPLIEFF. As a matter of fact, it is time to begin now. I
must call the audience.
NINA. [Excitedly] It can’t be that I am late? No, I am not
late. SORIN. Let me call them—and all—I am going this minute.
[He goes toward the right, begins to sing “The Two Grena-
TREPLIEFF. [Kissing her hands] No, no, no! diers,” then stops.] I was singing that once when a fel-
low-lawyer said to me: “You have a powerful voice, sir.”
NINA. I have been in a fever all day, I was so afraid my Then he thought a moment and added, “But it is a dis-
father would prevent my coming, but he and my step- agreeable one!” [He goes out laughing.]
mother have just gone driving. The sky is clear, the moon
is rising. How I hurried to get here! How I urged my horse NINA. My father and his wife never will let me come here;
to go faster and faster! [Laughing] I am so glad to see they call this place Bohemia and are afraid I shall become

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 The Sea-Gull
an actress. But this lake attracts me as it does the gulls. stand in your garden all night with my eyes on your win-
My heart is full of you. [She glances about her.] dow.

TREPLIEFF. We are alone. NINA. That would be impossible; the watchman would
see you, and Treasure is not used to you yet, and would
NINA. Isn’t that some one over there? bark.

TREPLIEFF. No. [They kiss one another.] TREPLIEFF. I love you.

NINA. What is that tree? NINA. Hush!

TREPLIEFF. An elm. TREPLIEFF. [Listening to approaching footsteps] Who is

that? Is it you, Jacob?
NINA. Why does it look so dark?
JACOB. [On the stage] Yes, sir.
TREPLIEFF. It is evening; everything looks dark now. Don’t
go away early, I implore you. TREPLIEFF. To your places then. The moon is rising; the
play must commence.
NINA. I must.
NINA. Yes, sir.
TREPLIEFF. What if I were to follow you, Nina? I shall

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 Checkov
TREPLIEFF. Is the alcohol ready? Is the sulphur ready? NINA. There is so little action; it seems more like a recita-
There must be fumes of sulphur in the air when the red tion. I think love should always come into every play.
eyes shine out. [To NINA] Go, now, everything is ready.
Are you nervous? NINA and TREPLIEFF go up onto the little stage; PAULINA
and DORN come in.
NINA. Yes, very. I am not so much afraid of your mother
as I am of Trigorin. I am terrified and ashamed to act PAULINA. It is getting damp. Go back and put on your
before him; he is so famous. Is he young? goloshes.

TREPLIEFF. Yes. DORN. I am quite warm.

NINA. What beautiful stories he writes! PAULINA. You never will take care of yourself; you are
quite obstinate about it, and yet you are a doctor, and
TREPLIEFF. [Coldly] I have never read any of them, so I know quite well that damp air is bad for you. You like to
can’t say. see me suffer, that’s what it is. You sat out on the terrace
all yesterday evening on purpose.
NINA. Your play is very hard to act; there are no living
characters in it. DORN. [Sings]

TREPLIEFF. Living characters! Life must be represented not “Oh, tell me not that youth is wasted.”
as it is, but as it ought to be; as it appears in dreams.

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 The Sea-Gull
PAULINA. You were so enchanted by the conversation of PAULINA. When women have loved you and thrown them-
Madame Arkadina that you did not even notice the cold. selves at your head, has that been idealism?
Confess that you admire her.
DORN. [Shrugging his shoulders] I can’t say. There has
DORN. I am fifty-five years old. been a great deal that was admirable in my relations with
women. In me they liked, above all, the superior doctor.
PAULINA. A trifle. That is not old for a man. You have Ten years ago, you remember, I was the only decent doc-
kept your looks magnificently, and women still like you. tor they had in this part of the country—and then, I have
always acted like a man of honour.
DORN. What are you trying to tell me?
PAULINA. [Seizes his hand] Dearest!
PAULINA. You men are all ready to go down on your knees
to an actress, all of you. DORN. Be quiet! Here they come.

DORN. [Sings] ARKADINA comes in on SORIN’S arm; also TRIGORIN,

SHAMRAEFF, MEDVIEDENKO, and MASHA.
“Once more I stand before thee.”
SHAMRAEFF. She acted most beautifully at the Poltava
It is only right that artists should be made much of by Fair in 1873; she was really magnificent. But tell me, too,
society and treated differently from, let us say, merchants. where Tchadin the comedian is now? He was inimitable as
It is a kind of idealism. Rasplueff, better than Sadofski. Where is he now?

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 Checkov
ARKADINA. Don’t ask me where all those antediluvians ARKADINA. [Quoting from Hamlet] My son,
are! I know nothing about them. [She sits down.]
“Thou turn’st mine eyes into my very soul; And there I
SHAMRAEFF. [Sighing] Pashka Tchadin! There are none left see such black grained spots As will not leave their tinct.”
like him. The stage is not what it was in his time. There
were sturdy oaks growing on it then, where now but stumps [A horn is blown behind the stage.]
remain.
TREPLIEFF. Attention, ladies and gentlemen! The play is
DORN. It is true that we have few dazzling geniuses these about to begin. [A pause] I shall commence. [He taps the
days, but, on the other hand, the average of acting is door with a stick, and speaks in a loud voice] O, ye time-
much higher. honoured, ancient mists that drive at night across the
surface of this lake, blind you our eyes with sleep, and
SHAMRAEFF. I cannot agree with you; however, that is a show us in our dreams that which will be in twice ten
matter of taste, de gustibus. thousand years!

Enter TREPLIEFF from behind the stage. SORIN. There won’t be anything in twice ten thousand
years.
ARKADINA. When will the play begin, my dear boy?
TREPLIEFF. Then let them now show us that nothingness.
TREPLIEFF. In a moment. I must ask you to have pa-
tience. ARKADINA. Yes, let them—we are asleep.

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 The Sea-Gull
The curtain rises. A vista opens across the lake. The moon with the instinct of the animal; I understand all, all, all,
hangs low above the horizon and is reflected in the water. and each life lives again in me.
NINA, dressed in white, is seen seated on a great rock.
[The will-o-the-wisps flicker out along the lake shore.]
NINA. All men and beasts, lions, eagles, and quails, horned
stags, geese, spiders, silent fish that inhabit the waves, ARKADINA. [Whispers] What decadent rubbish is this?
starfish from the sea, and creatures invisible to the eye—
in one word, life—all, all life, completing the dreary round TREPLIEFF. [Imploringly] Mother!
imposed upon it, has died out at last. A thousand years
have passed since the earth last bore a living creature on NINA. I am alone. Once in a hundred years my lips are
her breast, and the unhappy moon now lights her lamp in opened, my voice echoes mournfully across the desert
vain. No longer are the cries of storks heard in the mead- earth, and no one hears. And you, poor lights of the marsh,
ows, or the drone of beetles in the groves of limes. All is you do not hear me. You are engendered at sunset in the
cold, cold. All is void, void, void. All is terrible, terrible— putrid mud, and flit wavering about the lake till dawn,
[A pause] The bodies of all living creatures have dropped unconscious, unreasoning, unwarmed by the breath of life.
to dust, and eternal matter has transformed them into Satan, father of eternal matter, trembling lest the spark
stones and water and clouds; but their spirits have flowed of life should glow in you, has ordered an unceasing move-
together into one, and that great world-soul am I! In me ment of the atoms that compose you, and so you shift
is the spirit of the great Alexander, the spirit of Napoleon, and change for ever. I, the spirit of the universe, I alone
of Caesar, of Shakespeare, and of the tiniest leech that am immutable and eternal. [A pause] Like a captive in a
swims. In me the consciousness of man has joined hands dungeon deep and void, I know not where I am, nor what

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 Checkov
awaits me. One thing only is not hidden from me: in my PAULINA. [To DORN] You have taken off your hat again!
fierce and obstinate battle with Satan, the source of the Put it on, you will catch cold.
forces of matter, I am destined to be victorious in the
end. Matter and spirit will then be one at last in glorious ARKADINA. The doctor has taken off his hat to Satan
harmony, and the reign of freedom will begin on earth. father of eternal matter—
But this can only come to pass by slow degrees, when
after countless eons the moon and earth and shining Sirius TREPLIEFF. [Loudly and angrily] Enough of this! There’s
himself shall fall to dust. Until that hour, oh, horror! hor- an end to the performance. Down with the curtain!
ror! horror! [A pause. Two glowing red points are seen
shining across the lake] Satan, my mighty foe, advances; ARKADINA. Why, what are you so angry about?
I see his dread and lurid eyes.
TREPLIEFF. [Stamping his foot] The curtain; down with it!
ARKADINA. I smell sulphur. Is that done on purpose? [The curtain falls] Excuse me, I forgot that only a chosen
few might write plays or act them. I have infringed the
TREPLIEFF. Yes. monopoly. I— I—

ARKADINA. Oh, I see; that is part of the effect. He would like to say more, but waves his hand instead,
and goes out to the left.
TREPLIEFF. Mother!
ARKADINA. What is the matter with him?
NINA. He longs for man—

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 The Sea-Gull
SORIN. You should not handle youthful egoism so roughly, ARKADINA. Is that so? I notice, though, that he did not
sister. 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
ARKADINA. What did I say to him? meant seriously, but in showing us this, he pretended to
be introducing us to a new form of art, and inaugurating
SORIN. You hurt his feelings. a new era. In my opinion, there was nothing new about it,
it was simply an exhibition of bad temper.
ARKADINA. But he told me himself that this was all in
fun, so I treated his play as if it were a comedy. TRIGORIN. Everybody must write as he feels, and as best
he may.
SORIN. Nevertheless—
ARKADINA. Let him write as he feels and can, but let him
ARKADINA. Now it appears that he has produced a mas- spare me his nonsense.
terpiece, if you please! I suppose it was not meant to
amuse us at all, but that he arranged the performance and DORN. Thou art angry, O Jove!
fumigated us with sulphur to demonstrate to us how plays
should be written, and what is worth acting. I am tired of ARKADINA. I am a woman, not Jove. [She lights a ciga-
him. No one could stand his constant thrusts and sallies. rette] And I am not angry, I am only sorry to see a young
He is a wilful, egotistic boy. man foolishly wasting his time. I did not mean to hurt
him.
SORIN. He had hoped to give you pleasure.

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 Checkov
MEDVIEDENKO. No one has any ground for separating life MASHA. Shall I go and find him?
from matter, as the spirit may well consist of the union of
material atoms. [Excitedly, to TRIGORIN] Some day you ARKADINA. If you please, my dear.
should write a play, and put on the stage the life of a
schoolmaster. It is a hard, hard life. MASHA. [Goes off to the left, calling] Mr. Constantine!
Oh, Mr. Constantine!
ARKADINA. I agree with you, but do not let us talk about
plays or atoms now. This is such a lovely evening. Listen NINA. [Comes in from behind the stage] I see that the
to the singing, friends, how sweet it sounds. play will never be finished, so now I can go home. Good
evening. [She kisses ARKADINA and PAULINA.]
PAULINA. Yes, they are singing across the water. [A pause.]
SORIN. Bravo! Bravo!
ARKADINA. [To TRIGORIN] Sit down beside me here. Ten or
fifteen years ago we had music and singing on this lake ARKADINA. Bravo! Bravo! We were quite charmed by your
almost all night. There are six houses on its shores. All was acting. With your looks and such a lovely voice it is a
noise and laughter and romance then, such romance! The crime for you to hide yourself in the country. You must be
young star and idol of them all in those days was this man very talented. It is your duty to go on the stage, do you
here, [Nods toward DORN] Doctor Eugene Dorn. He is fasci- hear me?
nating now, but he was irresistible then. But my conscience
is beginning to prick me. Why did I hurt my poor boy? I am NINA. It is the dream of my life, which will never come
uneasy about him. [Loudly] Constantine! Constantine! true.

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 The Sea-Gull
ARKADINA. Who knows? Perhaps it will. But let me present NINA. Yes, there are.
Monsieur Boris Trigorin.
TRIGORIN. I love fishing. I know of nothing pleasanter
NINA. I am delighted to meet you. [Embarrassed] I have than to sit on a lake shore in the evening with one’s eyes
read all your books. on a floating cork.

ARKADINA. [Drawing NINA down beside her] Don’t be afraid NINA. Why, I should think that for one who has tasted
of him, dear. He is a simple, good-natured soul, even if he the joys of creation, no other pleasure could exist.
is a celebrity. See, he is embarrassed himself.
ARKADINA. Don’t talk like that. He always begins to floun-
DORN. Couldn’t the curtain be raised now? It is depressing der when people say nice things to him.
to have it down.
SHAMRAEFF. I remember when the famous Silva was sing-
SHAMRAEFF. [Loudly] Jacob, my man! Raise the curtain! ing once in the Opera House at Moscow, how delighted we
all were when he took the low C. Well, you can imagine
NINA. [To TRIGORIN] It was a curious play, wasn’t it? our astonishment when one of the church cantors, who
happened to be sitting in the gallery, suddenly boomed
TRIGORIN. Very. I couldn’t understand it at all, but I out: “Bravo, Silva!” a whole octave lower. Like this: [In a
watched it with the greatest pleasure because you acted deep bass voice] “Bravo, Silva!” The audience was left
with such sincerity, and the setting was beautiful. [A pause] breathless. [A pause.]
There must be a lot of fish in this lake.

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DORN. An angel of silence is flying over our heads. NINA. I must.

NINA. I must go. Good-bye. SORIN. Stay just one hour more, and all. Come now, really,
you know.
ARKADINA. Where to? Where must you go so early? We
shan’t allow it. NINA. [Struggling against her desire to stay; through her
tears] No, no, I can’t. [She shakes hands with him and
NINA. My father is waiting for me. quickly goes out.]

ARKADINA. How cruel he is, really. [They kiss each other] ARKADINA. An unlucky girl! They say that her mother left
Then I suppose we can’t keep you, but it is very hard the whole of an immense fortune to her husband, and now
indeed to let you go. the child is penniless because the father has already willed
everything away to his second wife. It is pitiful.
NINA. If you only knew how hard it is for me to leave you
all. DORN. Yes, her papa is a perfect beast, and I don’t mind
saying so—it is what he deserves.
ARKADINA. Somebody must see you home, my pet.
SORIN. [Rubbing his chilled hands] Come, let us go in; the
NINA. [Startled] No, no! night is damp, and my legs are aching.

SORIN. [Imploringly] Don’t go! ARKADINA. Yes, you act as if they were turned to stone;

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 The Sea-Gull
you can hardly move them. Come, you unfortunate old gleamed across the lake, I felt my hands shaking with
man. [She takes his arm.] excitement. It was so fresh and naive. But here he comes;
let me say something pleasant to him.
SHAMRAEFF. [Offering his arm to his wife] Permit me,
madame. TREPLIEFF comes in.

SORIN. I hear that dog howling again. Won’t you please TREPLIEFF. All gone already?
have it unchained, Shamraeff?
DORN. I am here.
SHAMRAEFF. No, I really can’t, sir. The granary is full of
millet, and I am afraid thieves might break in if the dog TREPLIEFF. Masha has been yelling for me all over the
were not there. [Walking beside MEDVIEDENKO] Yes, a whole park. An insufferable creature.
octave lower: “Bravo, Silva!” and he wasn’t a singer ei-
ther, just a simple church cantor. DORN. Constantine, your play delighted me. It was strange,
of course, and I did not hear the end, but it made a deep
MEDVIEDENKO. What salary does the church pay its sing- impression on me. You have a great deal of talent, and
ers? [All go out except DORN.] must persevere in your work.

DORN. I may have lost my judgment and my wits, but I TREPLIEFF seizes his hand and squeezes it hard, then kisses
must confess I liked that play. There was something in it. him impetuously.
When the girl spoke of her solitude and the Devil’s eyes

20
 Checkov
DORN. Tut, tut! how excited you are. Your eyes are full of are writing, for if you follow the road of art without a
tears. Listen to me. You chose your subject in the realm goal before your eyes, you will lose yourself, and your
of abstract thought, and you did quite right. A work of genius will be your ruin.
art should invariably embody some lofty idea. Only that
which is seriously meant can ever be beautiful. How pale TREPLIEFF. [Impetuously] Where is Nina?
you are!
DORN. She has gone home.
TREPLIEFF. So you advise me to persevere?
TREPLIEFF. [In despair] Gone home? What shall I do? I
DORN. Yes, but use your talent to express only deep and want to see her; I must see her! I shall follow her.
eternal truths. I have led a quiet life, as you know, and
am a contented man, but if I should ever experience the DORN. My dear boy, keep quiet.
exaltation that an artist feels during his moments of cre-
ation, I think I should spurn this material envelope of my TREPLIEFF. I am going. I must go.
soul and everything connected with it, and should soar
away into heights above this earth. MASHA comes in.

TREPLIEFF. I beg your pardon, but where is Nina? MASHA. Your mother wants you to come in, Mr.
Constantine. She is waiting for you, and is very uneasy.
DORN. And yet another thing: every work of art should
have a definite object in view. You should know why you TREPLIEFF. Tell her I have gone away. And for heaven’s

21
 The Sea-Gull
sake, all of you, leave me alone! Go away! Don’t follow me MASHA. Wait a moment.
about!
DORN. What do you want?
DORN. Come, come, old chap, don’t act like this; it isn’t
kind at all. MASHA. Let me tell you again. I feel like talking. [She
grows more and more excited] I do not love my father,
TREPLIEFF. [Through his tears] Good-bye, doctor, and thank but my heart turns to you. For some reason, I feel with all
you. my soul that you are near to me. Help me! Help me, or I
shall do something foolish and mock at my life, and ruin
TREPLIEFF goes out. it. I am at the end of my strength.

DORN. [Sighing] Ah, youth, youth! DORN. What is the matter? How can I help you?

MASHA. It is always “Youth, youth,” when there is noth- MASHA. I am in agony. No one, no one can imagine how I
ing else to be said. suffer. [She lays her head on his shoulder and speaks
softly] I love Constantine.
She takes snuff. DORN takes the snuff-box out of her hands
and flings it into the bushes. DORN. Oh, how excitable you all are! And how much love
there is about this lake of spells! [Tenderly] But what can
DORN. Don’t do that, it is horrid. [A pause] I hear music I do for you, my child? What? What?
in the house. I must go in.
The curtain falls.
22
 Checkov
ACT II of old age or death, and just accept what comes to me.

The lawn in front of SORIN’S house. The house stands in MASHA. I feel as if I had been in the world a thousand
the background, on a broad terrace. The lake, brightly years, and I trail my life behind me like an endless scarf.
reflecting the rays of the sun, lies to the left. There are Often I have no desire to live at all. Of course that is
flower-beds here and there. It is noon; the day is hot. foolish. One ought to pull oneself together and shake off
ARKADINA, DORN, and MASHA are sitting on a bench on such nonsense.
the lawn, in the shade of an old linden. An open book is
lying on DORN’S knees. DORN. [Sings softly]

ARKADINA. [To MASHA] Come, get up. [They both get up] “Tell her, oh flowers—”
Stand beside me. You are twenty-two and I am almost
twice your age. Tell me, Doctor, which of us is the younger ARKADINA. And then I keep myself as correct-looking as
looking? an Englishman. I am always well-groomed, as the saying
is, and carefully dressed, with my hair neatly arranged. Do
DORN. You are, of course. you think I should ever permit myself to leave the house
half-dressed, with untidy hair? Certainly not! I have kept
ARKADINA. You see! Now why is it? Because I work; my my looks by never letting myself slump as some women
heart and mind are always busy, whereas you never move do. [She puts her arms akimbo, and walks up and down
off the same spot. You don’t live. It is a maxim of mine on the lawn] See me, tripping on tiptoe like a fifteen-
never to look into the future. I never admit the thought year-old girl.

23
 The Sea-Gull
DORN. I see. Nevertheless, I shall continue my reading. SORIN. [In a caressing voice, as if speaking to a child] So
[He takes up his book] Let me see, we had come to the we are happy now, eh? We are enjoying ourselves to-day,
grain-dealer and the rats. are we? Father and stepmother have gone away to Tv er,
and we are free for three whole days!
ARKADINA. And the rats. Go on. [She sits down] No, give
me the book, it is my turn to read. [She takes the book NINA. [Sits down beside ARKADINA, and embraces her] I
and looks for the place] And the rats. Ah, here it is. [She am so happy. I belong to you now.
reads] “It is as dangerous for society to attract and in-
dulge authors as it is for grain-dealers to raise rats in their SORIN. [Sits down in his arm-chair] She looks lovely to-
granaries. Yet society loves authors. And so, when a woman day.
has found one whom she wishes to make her own, she lays
siege to him by indulging and flattering him.” That may ARKADINA. Yes, she has put on her prettiest dress, and
be so in France, but it certainly is not so in Russia. We do looks sweet. That was nice of you. [She kisses NINA] But
not carry out a programme like that. With us, a woman is we mustn’t praise her too much; we shall spoil her. Where
usually head over ears in love with an author before she is Trigorin?
attempts to lay siege to him. You have an example before
your eyes, in me and Trigorin. NINA. He is fishing off the wharf.

SORIN comes in leaning on a cane, with NINA beside him. ARKADINA. I wonder he isn’t bored. [She begins to read
MEDVIEDENKO follows, pushing an arm-chair. again.]

24
 Checkov
NINA. What are you reading? DORN. Pleasant dreams!

ARKADINA. “On the Water,” by Maupassant. [She reads a ARKADINA. Peter!

few lines to herself] But the rest is neither true nor inter-
esting. [She lays down the book] I am uneasy about my SORIN. Eh?
son. Tell me, what is the matter with him? Why is he so
dull and depressed lately? He spends all his days on the ARKADINA. Are you asleep?
lake, and I scarcely ever see him any more.
SORIN. Not a bit of it. [A pause.]
MASHA. His heart is heavy. [Timidly, to NINA] Please re-
cite something from his play. ARKADINA. You don’t do a thing for your health, brother,
but you really ought to.
NINA. [Shrugging her shoulders] Shall I? Is it so interest-
ing? DORN. The idea of doing anything for one’s health at sixty-five!

MASHA. [With suppressed rapture] When he recites, his SORIN. One still wants to live at sixty-five.
eyes shine and his face grows pale. His voice is beautiful
and sad, and he has the ways of a poet. DORN. [Crossly] Ho! Take some camomile tea.

SORIN begins to snore. ARKADINA. I think a journey to some watering-place would

be good for him.

25
 The Sea-Gull
DORN. Why, yes; he might go as well as not. riences. You are satiated with life, and that is why you
have an inclination for philosophy, but I want to live, and
ARKADINA. You don’t understand. that is why I drink my wine for dinner and smoke cigars,
and all.
DORN. There is nothing to understand in this case; it is
quite clear. DORN. One must take life seriously, and to take a cure at
sixty-five and regret that one did not have more pleasure
MEDVIEDENKO. He ought to give up smoking. in youth is, forgive my saying so, trifling.

SORIN. What nonsense! [A pause.] MASHA. It must be lunch-time. [She walks away lan-
guidly, with a dragging step] My foot has gone to sleep.
DORN. No, that is not nonsense. Wine and tobacco de-
stroy the individuality. After a cigar or a glass of vodka DORN. She is going to have a couple of drinks before
you are no longer Peter Sorin, but Peter Sorin plus some- lunch.
body else. Your ego breaks in two: you begin to think of
yourself in the third person. SORIN. The poor soul is unhappy.

SORIN. It is easy for you to condemn smoking and drink- DORN. That is a trifle, your honour.
ing; you have known what life is, but what about me? I
have served in the Department of Justice for twenty-eight SORIN. You judge her like a man who has obtained all he
years, but I have never lived, I have never had any expe- wants in life.

26
 Checkov
ARKADINA. Oh, what could be duller than this dear te- SHAMRAEFF. Here they are. How do you do? [He kisses
dium of the country? The air is hot and still, nobody does ARKADINA’S hand and then NINA’S] I am delighted to see
anything but sit and philosophise about life. It is pleas- you looking so well. [To ARKADINA] My wife tells me that
ant, my friends, to sit and listen to you here, but I had you mean to go to town with her to-day. Is that so?
rather a thousand times sit alone in the room of a hotel
learning a role by heart. ARKADINA. Yes, that is what I had planned to do.

NINA. [With enthusiasm] You are quite right. I under- SHAMRAEFF. Hm—that is splendid, but how do you in-
stand how you feel. tend to get there, madam? We are hauling rye to-day, and
all the men are busy. What horses would you take?
SORIN. Of course it is pleasanter to live in town. One can
sit in one’s library with a telephone at one’s elbow, no one ARKADINA. What horses? How do I know what horses we
comes in without being first announced by the footman, shall have?
the streets are full of cabs, and all—
SORIN. Why, we have the carriage horses.
DORN. [Sings]
SHAMRAEFF. The carriage horses! And where am I to find
“Tell her, oh flowers—” the harness for them? This is astonishing! My dear madam,
I have the greatest respect for your talents, and would
SHAMRAEFF comes in, followed by PAULINA. gladly sacrifice ten years of my life for you, but I cannot
let you have any horses to-day.

27
 The Sea-Gull
ARKADINA. But if I must go to town? What an extraordi- SORIN. [Losing his temper] What the deuce did he mean
nary state of affairs! by his impudence? I want all the horses brought here at
once!
SHAMRAEFF. You do not know, madam, what it is to run a
farm. NINA. [To PAULINA] How could he refuse anything to
Madame Arkadina, the famous actress? Is not every wish,
ARKADINA. [In a burst of anger] That is an old story! every caprice even, of hers, more important than any farm
Under these circumstances I shall go back to Moscow this work? This is incredible.
very day. Order a carriage for me from the village, or I
shall go to the station on foot. PAULINA. [In despair] What can I do about it? Put your-
self in my place and tell me what I can do.
SHAMRAEFF. [losing his temper] Under these circumstances
I resign my position. You must find yourself another man- SORIN. [To NINA] Let us go and find my sister, and all beg
ager. [He goes out.] her not to go. [He looks in the direction in which
SHAMRAEFF went out] That man is insufferable; a regular
ARKADINA. It is like this every summer: every summer I tyrant.
am insulted here. I shall never set foot here again.
NINA. [Preventing him from getting up] Sit still, sit still,
She goes out to the left, in the direction of the wharf. In and let us wheel you. [She and MEDVIEDENKO push the
a few minutes she is seen entering the house, followed by chair before them] This is terrible!
TRIGORIN, who carries a bucket and fishing-rod.

28
 Checkov
SORIN. Yes, yes, it is terrible; but he won’t leave. I shall PAULINA. I know that you refuse me because there are
have a talk with him in a moment. [They go out. Only other women who are near to you, and you cannot take
DORN and PAULINA are left.] everybody. I understand. Excuse me—I see I am only both-
ering you.
DORN. How tiresome people are! Your husband deserves
to be thrown out of here neck and crop, but it will all end NINA is seen near the house picking a bunch of flowers.
by this old granny Sorin and his sister asking the man’s
pardon. See if it doesn’t. DORN. No, it is all right.

PAULINA. He has sent the carriage horses into the fields PAULINA. I am tortured by jealousy. Of course you are a
too. These misunderstandings occur every day. If you only doctor and cannot escape from women. I understand.
knew how they excite me! I am ill; see! I am trembling all
over! I cannot endure his rough ways. [Imploringly] Eu- DORN. [To NINA, who comes toward him] How are things
gene, my darling, my beloved, take me to you. Our time is in there?
short; we are no longer young; let us end deception and
concealment, even though it is only at the end of our NINA. Madame Arkadina is crying, and Sorin is having an
lives. [A pause.] attack of asthma.

DORN. I am fifty-five years old. It is too late now for me DORN. Let us go and give them both some camomile tea.
to change my ways of living.
NINA. [Hands him the bunch of flowers] Here are some
flowers for you.
29
 The Sea-Gull
DORN. Thank you. [He goes into the house.] like everybody else.

PAULINA. [Following him] What pretty flowers! [As they TREPLIEFF comes in without a hat on, carrying a gun and
reach the house she says in a low voice] Give me those a dead seagull.
flowers! Give them to me!
TREPLIEFF. Are you alone here?
DORN hands her the flowers; she tears them to pieces and
flings them away. They both go into the house. NINA. Yes.

NINA. [Alone] How strange to see a famous actress weep- TREPLIEFF lays the sea-gull at her feet.
ing, and for such a trifle! Is it not strange, too, that a
famous author should sit fishing all day? He is the idol of NINA. What do you mean by this?
the public, the papers are full of him, his photograph is
for sale everywhere, his works have been translated into TREPLIEFF. I was base enough to-day to kill this gull. I
many foreign languages, and yet he is overjoyed if he lay it at your feet.
catches a couple of minnows. I always thought famous
people were distant and proud; I thought they despised NINA. What is happening to you? [She picks up the gull
the common crowd which exalts riches and birth, and and stands looking at it.]
aveng ed themselves on it by dazzling it with the inextin-
guishable honour and glory of their fame. But here I see TREPLIEFF. [After a pause] So shall I soon end my own
them weeping and playing cards and flying into passions life.

30
 Checkov
NINA. You have changed so that I fail to recognise you. ger in the brain. May it be accursed, together with my
stupidity, which sucks my life-blood like a snake! [He sees
TREPLIEFF. Yes, I have changed since the time when I TRIGORIN, who approaches reading a book] There comes
ceased to recognise you. You have failed me; your look is real genius, striding along like another Hamlet, and with a
cold; you do not like to have me near you. book, too. [Mockingly] “Words, words, words.” You feel
the warmth of that sun already, you smile, your eyes melt
NINA. You have grown so irritable lately, and you talk so and glow liquid in its rays. I shall not disturb you. [He
darkly and symbolically that you must forgive me if I fail goes out.]
to follow you. I am too simple to understand you.
TRIGORIN. [Making notes in his book] Takes snuff and
TREPLIEFF. All this began when my play failed so dismally. drinks vodka; always wears black dresses; is loved by a
A woman never can forgive failure. I have burnt the manu- schoolteacher—
script to the last page. Oh, if you could only fathom my
unhappiness! Your estrangement is to me terrible, incred- NINA. How do you do?
ible; it is as if I had suddenly waked to find this lake dried
up and sunk into the earth. You say you are too simple to TRIGORIN. How are you, Miss Nina? Owing to an unfore-
understand me; but, oh, what is there to understand? You seen development of circumstances, it seems that we are
disliked my play, you have no faith in my powers, you leaving here today. You and I shall probably never see
already think of me as commonplace and worthless, as each other again, and I am sorry for it. I seldom meet a
many are. [Stamping his foot] How well I can understand young and pretty girl now; I can hardly remember how it
your feelings! And that understanding is to me like a dag- feels to be nineteen, and the young girls in my books are

31
 The Sea-Gull
seldom living characters. I should like to change places NINA. This is a wonderful world. If you only knew how I
with you, if but for an hour, to look out at the world envy you! Men are born to different destinies. Some dully
through your eyes, and so find out what sort of a little drag a weary, useless life behind them, lost in the crowd,
person you are. unhappy, while to one out of a million, as to you, for
instance, comes a bright destiny full of interest and mean-
NINA. And I should like to change places with you. ing. You are lucky.

TRIGORIN. Why? TRIGORIN. I, lucky? [He shrugs his shoulders] H-m— I

hear you talking about fame, and happiness, and bright
NINA. To find out how a famous genius feels. What is it destinies, and those fine words of yours mean as much to
like to be famous? What sensations does it give you? me—forgive my saying so—as sweetmeats do, which I
never eat. You are very young, and very kind.
TRIGORIN. What sensations? I don’t believe it gives any.
[Thoughtfully] Either you exaggerate my fame, or else, if NINA. Your life is beautiful.
it exists, all I can say is that one simply doesn’t feel fame
in any way. TRIGORIN. I see nothing especially lovely about it. [He
looks at his watch] Excuse me, I must go at once, and
NINA. But when you read about yourself in the papers? begin writing again. I am in a hurry. [He laughs] You have
stepped on my pet corn, as they say, and I am getting
TRIGORIN. If the critics praise me, I am happy; if they excited, and a little cross. Let us discuss this bright and
condemn me, I am out of sorts for the next two days. beautiful life of mine, though. [After a few moments’

32
 Checkov
thought] Violent obsessions sometimes lay hold of a man: As soon as I stop working I rush off to the theatre or go
he may, for instance, think day and night of nothing but fishing, in the hope that I may find oblivion there, but
the moon. I have such a moon. Day and night I am held no! Some new subject for a story is sure to come rolling
in the grip of one besetting thought, to write, write, through my brain like an iron cannonball. I hear my desk
write! Hardly have I finished one book than something calling, and have to go back to it and begin to write,
urges me to write another, and then a third, and then a write, write, once more. And so it goes for everlasting. I
fourth—I write ceaselessly. I am, as it were, on a tread- cannot escape myself, though I feel that I am consuming
mill. I hurry for ever from one story to another, and can’t my life. To prepare the honey I feed to unknown crowds,
help myself. Do you see anything bright and beautiful in I am doomed to brush the bloom from my dearest flow-
that? Oh, it is a wild life! Even now, thrilled as I am by ers, to tear them from their stems, and trample the roots
talking to you, I do not forget for an instant that an that bore them under foot. Am I not a madman? Should I
unfinished story is awaiting me. My eye falls on that cloud not be treated by those who know me as one mentally
there, which has the shape of a grand piano; I instantly diseased? Yet it is always the same, same old story, till I
make a mental note that I must remember to mention in begin to think that all this praise and admiration must be
my story a cloud floating by that looked like a grand a deception, that I am being hoodwinked because they
piano. I smell heliotrope; I mutter to myself: a sickly know I am crazy, and I sometimes tremble lest I should
smell, the colour worn by widows; I must remember that be grabbed from behind and whisked off to a lunatic asy-
in writing my next description of a summer evening. I lum. The best years of my youth were made one continual
catch an idea in every sentence of yours or of my own, agony for me by my writing. A young author, especially if
and hasten to lock all these treasures in my literary store- at first he does not make a success, feels clumsy, ill-at-
room, thinking that some day they may be useful to me. ease, and superfluous in the world. His nerves are all on

33
 The Sea-Gull
edge and stretched to the point of breaking; he is irresist- as Tolstoi,” or “It is a lovely thing, but not as good as
ibly attracted to literary and artistic people, and hovers Turgenieff’s ‘Fathers and Sons,’ “ and so it will always be.
about them unknown and unnoticed, fearing to look them To my dying day I shall hear people say: “Clever and pretty;
bravely in the eye, like a man with a passion for gambling, clever and pretty,” and nothing more; and when I am
whose money is all gone. I did not know my readers, but gone, those that knew me will say as they pass my grave:
for some reason I imagined they were distrustful and un- “Here lies Trigorin, a clever writer, but he was not as good
friendly; I was mortally afraid of the public, and when my as Turgenieff.”
first play appeared, it seemed to me as if all the dark eyes
in the audience were looking at it with enmity, and all the NINA. You must excuse me, but I decline to understand
blue ones with cold indifference. Oh, how terrible it was! what you are talking about. The fact is, you have been
What agony! spoilt by your success.

NINA. But don’t your inspiration and the act of creation TRIGORIN. What success have I had? I have never pleased
give you moments of lofty happiness? myself; as a writer, I do not like myself at all. The trouble
is that I am made giddy , as it were, by the fumes of my
TRIGORIN. Yes. Writing is a pleasure to me, and so is brain, and often hardly know what I am writing. I love
reading the proofs, but no sooner does a book leave the this lake, these trees, the blue heaven; nature’s voice speaks
press than it becomes odious to me; it is not what I to me and wakes a feeling of passion in my heart, and I
meant it to be; I made a mistake to write it at all; I am am overcome by an uncontrollable desire to write. But I
provoked and discouraged. Then the public reads it and am not only a painter of landscapes, I am a man of the
says: “Yes, it is clever and pretty, but not nearly as good city besides. I love my country, too, and her people; I feel

34
 Checkov
that, as a writer, it is my duty to speak of their sorrows, [They both smile.]
of their future, also of science, of the rights of man, and
so forth. So I write on every subject, and the public hounds NINA. For the bliss of being a writer or an actress I could
me on all sides, sometimes in anger, and I race and dodge endure want, and disillusionment, and the hatred of my
like a fox with a pack of hounds on his trail. I see life and friends, and the pangs of my own dissatisfaction with
knowledge flitting away before me. I am left behind them myself; but I should demand in return fame, real, resound-
like a peasant who has missed his train at a station, and ing fame! [She covers her face with her hands] Whew! My
finally I come back to the conclusion that all I am fit for head reels!
is to describe landscapes, and that whatever else I at-
tempt rings abominably false. THE VOICE OF ARKADINA. [From inside the house] Boris!
Boris!
NINA. You work too hard to realise the importance of
your writings. What if you are discontented with yourself? TRIGORIN. She is calling me, probably to come and pack,
To others you appear a great and splendid man. If I were but I don’t want to leave this place. [His eyes rest on the
a writer like you I should devote my whole life to the lake] What a blessing such beauty is!
service of the Russian people, knowing at the same time
that their welfare depended on their power to rise to the NINA. Do you see that house there, on the far shore?
heights I had attained, and the people should send me
before them in a chariot of triumph. TRIGORIN. Yes.

TRIGORIN. In a chariot? Do you think I am Agamemnon? NINA. That was my dead mother’s home. I was born there,

35
 The Sea-Gull
and have lived all my life beside this lake. I know every appears at one of the windows.]
little island in it.
ARKADINA. Boris! Where are you?
TRIGORIN. This is a beautiful place to live. [He catches
sight of the dead sea-gull] What is that? TRIGORIN. I am coming this minute.

NINA. A gull. Constantine shot it. He goes toward the house, looking back at NINA. ARKADINA
remains at the window.
TRIGORIN. What a lovely bird! Really, I can’t bear to go
away. Can’t you persuade Irina to stay? [He writes some- TRIGORIN. What do you want?
thing in his note-book.]
ARKADINA. We are not going away, after all.
NINA. What are you writing?
TRIGORIN goes into the house. NINA comes forward and
TRIGORIN. Nothing much, only an idea that occurred to stands lost in thought.
me. [He puts the book back in his pocket] An idea for a
short story. A young girl grows up on the shores of a lake, NINA. It is a dream!
as you have. She loves the lake as the gulls do, and is as
happy and free as they. But a man sees her who chances The curtain falls.
to come that way, and he destroys her out of idleness, as
this gull here has been destroyed. [A pause. ARKADINA

36
 Checkov
ACT III MASHA. Yes.

The dining-room of SORIN’S house. Doors open out of it to TRIGORIN. I don’t see the necessity for that.
the right and left. A table stands in the centre of the
room. Trunks and boxes encumber the floor, and prepara- MASHA. Oh, if you knew what it is to love without hope
tions for departure are evident. TRIGORIN is sitting at a for years and years, to wait for ever for something that
table eating his breakfast, and MASHA is standing beside will never come! I shall not marry for love, but marriage
him. will at least be a change, and will bring new cares to
deaden the memories of the past. Shall we have another
MASHA. I am telling you all these things because you drink?
write books and they may be useful to you. I tell you
honestly, I should not have lived another day if he had TRIGORIN. Haven’t you had enough?
wounded himself fatally. Yet I am courageous; I have de-
cided to tear this love of mine out of my heart by the MASHA. Fiddlesticks! [She fills a glass] Don’t look at me
roots. with that expression on your face. Women drink oftener
than you imagine, but most of them do it in secret, and
TRIGORIN. How will you do it? not openly, as I do. They do indeed, and it is always either
vodka or brandy. [They touch glasses] To your good health!
MASHA. By marrying Medviedenko. You are so easy to get on with that I am sorry to see you
go. [They drink.]
TRIGORIN. The school-teacher?

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 The Sea-Gull
TRIGORIN. And I am sorry to leave. Send me your books, and be sure to write something in
them; nothing formal, but simply this: “To Masha, who,
MASHA. You should ask her to stay. forgetful of her origin, for some unknown reason is living
in this world.” Good-bye. [She goes out.]
TRIGORIN. She would not do that now. Her son has been
behaving outrageously. First he attempted suicide, and NINA. [Holding out her closed hand to TRIGORIN] Is it
now I hear he is going to challenge me to a duel, though odd or even?
what his provocation may be I can’t imagine. He is always
sulking and sneering and preaching about a new form of TRIGORIN. Even.
art, as if the field of art were not large enough to accom-
modate both old and new without the necessity of jos- NINA. [With a sigh] No, it is odd. I had only one pea in
tling. my hand. I wanted to see whether I was to become an
actress or not. If only some one would advise me what to
MASHA. It is jealousy. However, that is none of my busi- do!
ness. [A pause. JACOB walks through the room carrying a
trunk; NINA comes in and stands by the window] That TRIGORIN. One cannot give advice in a case like this. [A
schoolteacher of mine is none too clever, but he is very pause.]
good, poor man, and he loves me dearly, and I am sorry
for him. However, let me say good-bye and wish you a NINA. We shall soon part, perhaps never to meet again. I
pleasant journey. Remember me kindly in your thoughts. should like you to accept this little medallion as a re-
[She shakes hands with him] Thanks for your goodwill. membrance of me. I have had your initials engraved on it,

38
 Checkov
and on this side is the name of one of your books: “Days ARKADINA. Stay here at home, you poor old man. How
and Nights.” could you pay visits with that rheumatism of yours? [To
TRIGORIN] Who left the room just now, was it Nina?
TRIGORIN. How sweet of you! [He kisses the medallion] It
is a lovely present. TRIGORIN. Yes.

NINA. Think of me sometimes. ARKADINA. I beg your pardon; I am afraid we interrupted

you. [She sits down] I think everything is packed. I am
TRIGORIN. I shall never forget you. I shall always remem- absolutely exhausted.
ber you as I saw you that bright day—do you recall it?—
a week ago, when you wore your light dress, and we talked TRIGORIN. [Reading the inscription on the medallion] “Days
together, and the white seagull lay on the bench beside and Nights, page 121, lines 11 and 12.”
us.
JACOB. [Clearing the table] Shall I pack your fishing-rods,
NINA. [Lost in thought] Yes, the sea-gull. [A pause] I beg too, sir?
you to let me see you alone for two minutes before you
go. TRIGORIN. Yes, I shall need them, but you can give my
books away.
She goes out to the left. At the same moment ARKADINA
comes in from the right, followed by SORIN in a long coat, with JACOB. Very well, sir.
his orders on his breast, and by JACOB, who is busy packing.

39
 The Sea-Gull
TRIGORIN. [To himself] Page 121, lines 11 and 12. [To be lonely, and don’t catch cold. Keep an eye on my boy.
ARKADINA] Have we my books here in the house? Take good care of him; guide him along the proper paths.
[A pause] I am going away, and so shall never find out
ARKADINA. Yes, they are in my brother’s library, in the why Constantine shot himself, but I think the chief rea-
corner cupboard. son was jealousy, and the sooner I take Trigorin away, the
better.
TRIGORIN. Page 121— [He goes out.]
SORIN. There were—how shall I explain it to you?—other
SORIN. You are going away, and I shall be lonely without reasons besides jealousy for his act. Here is a clever young
you. chap living in the depths of the country, without money
or position, with no future ahead of him, and with noth-
ARKADINA. What would you do in town? ing to do. He is ashamed and afraid of being so idle. I am
devoted to him and he is fond of me, but nevertheless he
SORIN. Oh, nothing in particular, but somehow— [He feels that he is useless here, that he is little more than a
laughs] They are soon to lay the corner-stone of the new dependent in this house. It is the pride in him.
court-house here. How I should like to leap out of this
minnow-pond, if but for an hour or two! I am tired of ARKADINA. He is a misery to me! [Thoughtfully] He might
lying here like an old cigarette stump. I have ordered the possibly enter the army.
carriage for one o’clock. We can go away together .
SORIN. [Gives a whistle, and then speaks with hesitation]
ARKADINA. [After a pause] No, you must stay here. Don’t It seems to me that the best thing for him would be if

40
 Checkov
you were to let him have a little money. For one thing, he SORIN. If I had any money of course I should let him have
ought to be allowed to dress like a human being. See how some myself, but I haven’t even a penny. The farm man-
he looks! Wearing the same little old coat that he has had ager takes my pension from me and puts it all into the
for three years, and he doesn’t even possess an overcoat! farm or into cattle or bees, and in that way it is always
[Laughing] And it wouldn’t hurt the youngster to sow a lost for ever. The bees die, the cows die, they never let me
few wild oats; let him go abroad, say, for a time. It wouldn’t have a horse.
cost much.
ARKADINA. Of course I have some money, but I am an
ARKADINA. Yes, but— However, I think I might manage actress and my expenses for dress alone are enough to
about his clothes, but I couldn’t let him go abroad. And bankrupt me.
no, I don’t think I can let him have his clothes even, now.
[Decidedly] I have no money at present. SORIN. You are a dear, and I am very fond of you, indeed
I am. But something is the matter with me again. [He
SORIN laughs. staggers] I feel giddy. [He leans against the table] I feel
faint, and all.
ARKADINA. I haven’t indeed.
ARKADINA. [Frightened ] Peter! [She tries to support him]
SORIN. [Whistles] Very well. Forgive me, darling; don’t be Peter! dearest! [She calls] Help! Help!
angry. You are a noble, generous woman!
TREPLIEFF and MEDVIEDENKO come in; TREPLIEFF has a
ARKADINA. [Weeping] I really haven’t the money. bandage around his head.

41
 The Sea-Gull
ARKADINA. He is fainting! ARKADINA. He gave me a dreadful fright.

SORIN. I am all right. [He smiles and drinks some water] TREPLIEFF. It is not good for him to live in the country.
It is all over now. Mother, if you would only untie your purse-strings for
once, and lend him a thousand roubles! He could then
TREPLIEFF. [To his mother] Don’t be frightened, mother, spend a whole year in town.
these attacks are not dangerous; my uncle often has them
now. [To his uncle] You must go and lie down, Uncle. ARKADINA. I have no money. I am an actress and not a
banker. [A pause.]
SORIN. Yes, I think I shall, for a few minutes. I am going
to Moscow all the same, but I shall lie down a bit before TREPLIEFF. Please change my bandage for me, mother,
I start. [He goes out leaning on his cane.] you do it so gently.

MEDVIEDENKO. [Giving him his arm] Do you know this ARKADINA goes to the cupboard and takes out a box of
riddle? On four legs in the morning; on two legs at noon; bandages and a bottle of iodoform.
and on three legs in the evening?
ARKADINA. The doctor is late.
SORIN. [Laughing] Yes, exactly, and on one’s back at night.
Thank you, I can walk alone. TREPLIEFF. Yes, he promised to be here at nine, and now
it is noon already.
MEDVIEDENKO. Dear me, what formality! [He and SORIN
go out.] ARKADINA. Sit down. [She takes the bandage off his head]
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 Checkov
You look as if you had a turban on. A stranger that was in ARKADINA. I remember that.
the kitchen yesterday asked to what nationality you be-
longed. Your wound is almost healed. [She kisses his head] TREPLIEFF. They were very pious. [A pause] I love you
You won’t be up to any more of these silly tricks again, again, these last few days, as tenderly and trustingly as I
will you, when I am gone? did as a child. I have no one left me now but you. Why,
why do you let yourself be controlled by that man?
TREPLIEFF. No, mother. I did that in a moment of insane
despair, when I had lost all control over myself. It will ARKADINA. You don’t understand him, Constantine. He
never happen again. [He kisses her hand] Your touch is has a wonderfully noble personality.
golden. I remember when you were still acting at the
State Theatre, long ago, when I was still a little chap, TREPLIEFF. Nevertheless, when he has been told that I
there was a fight one day in our court, and a poor wish to challenge him to a duel his nobility does not
washerwoman was almost beaten to death. She was picked prevent him from playing the coward. He is about to beat
up unconscious, and you nursed her till she was well, and an ignominious retreat.
bathed her children in the washtubs. Have you forgotten
it? ARKADINA. What nonsense! I have asked him myself to
go.
ARKADINA. Yes, entirely. [She puts on a new bandage.]
TREPLIEFF. A noble personality indeed! Here we are al-
TREPLIEFF. Two ballet dancers lived in the same house, most quarrelling over him, and he is probably in the gar-
and they used to come and drink coffee with you. den laughing at us at this very moment, or else enlight-

43
 The Sea-Gull
ening Nina’s mind and trying to persuade her into think- strangle and trample on. I refuse to accept your point of
ing him a man of genius. view, yours and his, I refuse!

ARKADINA. You enjoy saying unpleasant things to me. I ARKADINA. That is the talk of a decadent.
have the greatest respect for that man, and I must ask
you not to speak ill of him in my presence. TREPLIEFF. Go back to your beloved stage and act the
miserable ditch-water plays you so much admire!
TREPLIEFF. I have no respect for him at all. You want me
to think him a genius, as you do, but I refuse to lie: his ARKADINA. I never acted in a play like that in my life. You
books make me sick. couldn’t write even the trashiest music-hall farce, you
idle good-for-nothing!
ARKADINA. You envy him. There is nothing left for people
with no talent and mighty pretensions to do but to criticise TREPLIEFF. Miser!
those who are really gifted. I hope you enjoy the consola-
tion it brings. ARKADINA. Rag-bag!

TREPLIEFF. [With irony] Those who are really gifted, in- TREPLIEFF sits down and begins to cry softly.
deed! [Angrily] I am cleverer than any of you, if it comes
to that! [He tears the bandage off his head] You are the ARKADINA. [Walking up and down in great excitement]
slaves of convention, you have seized the upper hand and Don’t cry! You mustn’t cry! [She bursts into tears] You
now lay down as law everything that you do; all else you really mustn’t. [She kisses his forehead, his cheeks, his

44
 Checkov
head] My darling child, forgive me. Forgive your wicked TRIGORIN. [Looking through the pages of a book] Page
mother. 121, lines 11 and 12; here it is. [He reads] “If at any time
you should have need of my life, come and take it.”
TREPLIEFF. [Embracing her] Oh, if you could only know
what it is to have lost everything under heaven! She does TREPLIEFF picks up the bandage off the floor and goes
not love me. I see I shall never be able to write. Every out.
hope has deserted me.
ARKADINA. [Looking at her watch] The carriage will soon
ARKADINA. Don’t despair. This will all pass. He is going be here.
away to-day, and she will love you once more. [She wipes
away his tears] Stop crying. We have made peace again. TRIGORIN. [To himself] If at any time you should have
need of my life, come and take it.
TREPLIEFF. [Kissing her hand] Yes, mother.
ARKADINA. I hope your things are all packed.
ARKADINA. [Tenderly] Make your peace with him, too.
Don’t fight with him. You surely won’t fight? TRIGORIN. [Impatiently] Yes, yes. [In deep thought] Why
do I hear a note of sadness that wrings my heart in this
TREPLIEFF. I won’t, but you must not insist on my seeing cry of a pure soul? If at any time you should have need of
him again, mother, I couldn’t stand it. [TRIGORIN comes my life, come and take it. [To ARKADINA] Let us stay here
in] There he is; I am going. [He quickly puts the medicines one more day!
away in the cupboard] The doctor will attend to my head.

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 The Sea-Gull
ARKADINA shakes her head. TRIGORIN. People sometimes walk in their sleep, and so I
feel as if I were asleep, and dreaming of her as I stand
TRIGORIN. Do let us stay! here talking to you. My imagination is shaken by the sweet-
est and most glorious visions. Release me!
ARKADINA. I know, dearest, what keeps you here, but you
must control yourself. Be sober; your emotions have in- ARKADINA. [Shuddering] No, no! I am only an ordinary
toxicated you a little. woman; you must not say such things to me. Do not
torment me, Boris; you frighten me.
TRIGORIN. You must be sober, too. Be sensible; look upon
what has happened as a true friend would. [Taking her TRIGORIN. You could be an extraordinary woman if you
hand] You are capable of self-sacrifice. Be a friend to me only would. Love alone can bring happiness on earth, love
and release me! the enchanting, the poetical love of youth, that sweeps
away the sorrows of the world. I had no time for it when
ARKADINA. [In deep excitement] Are you so much in love? I was young and struggling with want and laying siege to
the literary fortress, but now at last this love has come to
TRIGORIN. I am irresistibly impelled toward her. It may me. I see it beckoning; why should I fly?
be that this is just what I need.
ARKADINA. [With anger] You are mad!
ARKADINA. What, the love of a country girl? Oh, how
little you know yourself! TRIGORIN. Release me.

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 Checkov
ARKADINA. You have all conspired together to torture me want to do a foolish thing, but I don’t want you to do it.
to-day. [She weeps.] I shan’t let you do it! [She laughs] You are mine, you are
mine! This forehead is mine, these eyes are mine, this silky
TRIGORIN. [Clutching his head desperately] She doesn’t hair is mine. All your being is mine. You are so clever, so
understand me! She won’t understand me! wise, the first of all living writers; you are the only hope
of your country. You are so fresh, so simple, so deeply
ARKADINA. Am I then so old and ugly already that you humourous. You can bring out every feature of a man or
can talk to me like this without any shame about another of a landscape in a single line, and your characters live
woman? [She embraces and kisses him] Oh, you have lost and breathe. Do you think that these words are but the
your senses! My splendid, my glorious friend, my love for incense of flattery? Do you think I am not speaking the
you is the last chapter of my life. [She falls on her knees] truth? Come, look into my eyes; look deep; do you find
You are my pride, my joy, my light. [She embraces his lies there? No, you see that I alone know how to treasure
knees] I could never endure it should you desert me, if you. I alone tell you the truth. Oh, my very dear, you will
only for an hour; I should go mad. Oh, my wonder, my go with me? You will? You will not forsake me?
marvel, my king!
TRIGORIN. I have no will of my own; I never had. I am
TRIGORIN. Some one might come in. [He helps her to too indolent, too submissive, too phlegmatic, to have
rise.] any. Is it possible that women like that? Take me. Take me
away with you, but do not let me stir a step from your
ARKADINA. Let them come! I am not ashamed of my side.
love. [She kisses his hands] My jewel! My despair! You

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 The Sea-Gull
ARKADINA. [To herself] Now he is mine! [Carelessly, as if the train leaves at two-five. Would you be kind enough,
nothing unusual had happened] Of course you must stay madam, to remember to inquire for me where Suzdaltzeff
here if you really want to. I shall go, and you can follow the actor is now? Is he still alive, I wonder? Is he well? He
in a week’s time. Yes, really, why should you hurry away? and I have had many a jolly time together. He was inimi-
table in “The Stolen Mail.” A tragedian called Izmailoff
TRIGORIN. Let us go together. was in the same company, I remember, who was also quite
remarkable. Don’t hurry, madam, you still have five min-
ARKADINA. As you like. Let us go together then. [A pause. utes. They were both of them conspirators once, in the
TRIGORIN writes something in his note-book] What are same melodrama, and one night when in the course of the
you writing? play they were suddenly discovered, instead of saying “We
have been trapped!” Izmailoff cried out: “We have been
TRIGORIN. A happy expression I heard this morning: “A rapped!” [He laughs] Rapped!
grove of maiden pines.” It may be useful. [He yawns] So
we are really off again, condemned once more to railway While he has been talking JACOB has been busy with the
carriages, to stations and restaurants, to Hamburger steaks trunks, and the maid has brought ARKADINA her hat, coat,
and endless arguments! parasol, and gloves. The cook looks hesitatingly through
the door on the right, and finally comes into the room.
SHAMRAEFF comes in. PAULINA comes in. MEDVIEDENKO comes in.

SHAMRAEFF. I am sorry to have to inform you that your PAULINA. [Presenting ARKADINA with a little basket] Here
carriage is at the door. It is time to start, honoured madam, are some plums for the journey. They are very sweet ones.

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 Checkov
You may want to nibble something good on the way. ARKADINA. Good-bye, all! We shall meet again next sum-
mer if we live. [The maid servant, JACOB, and the cook
ARKADINA. You are very kind, Paulina. kiss her hand] Don’t forget me. [She gives the cook a
rouble] There is a rouble for all three of you.
PAULINA. Good-bye, my dearie. If things have not been
quite as you could have wished, please forgive us. [She THE COOK. Thank you, mistress; a pleasant journey to
weeps.] you.

ARKADINA. It has been delightful, delightful. You mustn’t JACOB. God bless you, mistress.
cry.
SHAMRAEFF. Send us a line to cheer us up. [To TRIGORIN]
SORIN comes in through the door on the left, dressed in a Good-bye, sir.
long coat with a cape, and carrying his hat and cane. He
crosses the room. ARKADINA. Where is Constantine? Tell him I am starting.
I must say good-bye to him. [To JACOB] I gave the cook
SORIN. Come, sister, it is time to start, unless you want a rouble for all three of you.
to miss the train. I am going to get into the carriage. [He
goes out.] All go out through the door on the right. The stage re-
mains empty. Sounds of farewell are heard. The maid
MEDVIEDENKO. I shall walk quickly to the station and see comes running back to fetch the basket of plums which
you off there. [He goes out.] has been forgotten. TRIGORIN comes back.

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 The Sea-Gull
TRIGORIN. I had forgotten my cane. I think I left it on that wonderful, ineffably tender smile, those gentle fea-
the terrace. [He goes toward the door on the right and tures with their expression of angelic purity! My darling!
meets NINA, who comes in at that moment] Is that you? [A prolonged kiss.]
We are off.
The curtain falls.
NINA. I knew we should meet again. [With emotion] I
have come to an irrevocable decision, the die is cast: I am Two years elapse between the third and fourth acts.
going on the stage. I am deserting my father and aban-
doning everything. I am beginning life anew. I am going, ACT IV
as you are, to Moscow. We shall meet there.
A sitting-room in SORIN’S house, which has been converted
TRIGORIN. [Glancing about him] Go to the Hotel Slavianski into a writing-room for TREPLIEFF. To the right and left
Bazar. Let me know as soon as you get there. I shall be at are doors leading into inner rooms, and in the centre is a
the Grosholski House in Moltchanofka Street. I must go glass door opening onto a terrace. Besides the usual furni-
now. [A pause.] ture of a sitting-room there is a writing-desk in the right-
hand corner of the room. There is a Turkish divan near the
NINA. Just one more minute! door on the left, and shelves full of books stand against t
he walls. Books are lying scattered about on the windowsills
TRIGORIN. [In a low voice] You are so beautiful! What and chairs. It is evening. The room is dimly lighted by a
bliss to think that I shall see you again so soon! [She shaded lamp on a table. The wind moans in the tree tops
sinks on his breast] I shall see those glorious eyes again, and whistles down the chimney. The watchman in the

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 Checkov
garden is heard sounding his rattle. MEDVIEDENKO and MASHA. What an idea! [A pause.]
MASHA come in.
MEDVIEDENKO. Come home with me, Masha.
MASHA. [Calling TREPLIEFF] Mr. Constantine, where are
you? [Looking about her] There is no one here. His old MASHA. [Shaking her head] I shall spend the night here.
uncle is forever asking for Constantine, and can’t live with-
out him for an instant. MEDVIEDENKO. [Imploringly] Do come, Masha. The baby
must be hungry.
MEDVIEDENKO. He dreads being left alone. [Listening to
the wind] This is a wild night. We have had this storm for MASHA. Nonsense, Matriona will feed it. [A pause.]
two days.
MEDVIEDENKO. It is a pity to leave him three nights with-
MASHA. [Turning up the lamp] The waves on the lake are out his mother.
enormous.
MASHA. You are getting too tiresome. You used some-
MEDVIEDENKO. It is very dark in the garden. Do you know, times to talk of other things besides home and the baby,
I think that old theatre ought to be knocked down. It is home and the baby. That is all I ever hear from you now.
still standing there, naked and hideous as a skeleton, with
the curtain flapping in the wind. I thought I heard a voice MEDVIEDENKO. Come home, Masha.
weeping in it as I passed there last night.
MASHA. You can go home if you want to.

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 The Sea-Gull
MEDVIEDENKO. Your father won’t give me a horse. She makes the bed. PAULINA goes up to the desk and
looks at the manuscripts lying on it. [A pause.]
MASHA. Yes, he will; ask him.
MEDVIEDENKO. Well, I am going. Good-bye, Masha. [He
MEDVIEDENKO. I think I shall. Are you coming home to- kisses his wife’s hand] Good-bye, mother. [He tries to kiss
morrow? his mother-in-law’s hand.]

MASHA. Yes, yes, to-morrow. PAULINA. [Crossly] Be off, in God’s name!

She takes snuff. TREPLIEFF and PAULINA come in. TREPLIEFF TREPLIEFF shakes hands with him in silence, and
is carrying some pillows and a blanket, and PAULINA is MEDVIEDENKO goes out.
carrying sheets and pillow cases. They lay them on the
divan, and TREPLIEFF goes and sits down at his desk. PAULINA. [Looking at the manuscripts] No one ever
dreamed, Constantine, that you would one day turn into a
MASHA. Who is that for, mother? real author. The magazines pay you well for your stories.
[She strokes his hair.] You have grown handsome, too.
PAULINA. Mr. Sorin asked to sleep in Constantine’s room Dear, kind Constantine, be a little nicer to my Masha.
to-night.
MASHA. [Still making the bed] Leave him alone, mother.
MASHA. Let me make the bed.
PAULINA. She is a sweet child. [A pause] A woman,

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 Checkov
Constantine, asks only for kind looks. I know that from district, and when we have once left this place I shall
experience. forget it all. I shall tear my passion out by the roots. [The
notes of a melancholy waltz are heard in the distance.]
TREPLIEFF gets up from his desk and goes out without a
word. PAULINA. Constantine is playing. That means he is sad.

MASHA. There now! You have vexed him. I told you not to MASHA silently waltzes a few turns to the music.
bother him.
MASHA. The great thing, mother, is not to have him con-
PAULINA. I am sorry for you, Masha. tinually in sight. If my Simon could only get his remove I
should forget it all in a month or two. It is a trifle.
MASHA. Much I need your pity!
DORN and MEDVIEDENKO come in through the door on the
PAULINA. My heart aches for you. I see how things are, left, wheeling SORIN in an arm-chair.
and understand.
MEDVIEDENKO. I have six mouths to feed now, and flour is
MASHA. You see what doesn’t exist. Hopeless love is only at seventy kopecks.
found in novels. It is a trifle; all one has to do is to keep
a tight rein on oneself, and keep one’s head clear. Love DORN. A hard riddle to solve!
must be plucked out the moment it springs up in the
heart. My husband has been promised a school in another MEDVIEDENKO. It is easy for you to make light of it. You

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 The Sea-Gull
are rich enough to scatter money to your chickens, if you MEDVIEDENKO stands sadly aside.
wanted to.
DORN. What a lot of changes you have made here! You
DORN. You think I am rich? My friend, after practising for have turned this sitting-room into a library.
thirty years, during which I could not call my soul my
own for one minute of the night or day, I succeeded at MASHA. Constantine likes to work in this room, because
last in scraping together one thousand roubles, all of which from it he can step out into the garden to meditate when-
went, not long ago, in a trip which I took abroad. I haven’t ever he feels like it. [The watchman’s rattle is heard.]
a penny.
SORIN. Where is my sister?
MASHA. [To her husband] So you didn’t go home after
all? DORN. She has gone to the station to meet Trigorin. She
will soon be back.
MEDVIEDENKO. [Apologetically] How can I go home when
they won’t give me a horse? SORIN. I must be dangerously ill if you had to send for my
sister. [He falls silent for a moment] A nice business this
MASHA. [Under her breath, with bitter anger] Would I is! Here I am dangerously ill, and you won’t even give me
might never see your face again! any medicine.

SORIN in his chair is wheeled to the left-hand side of the DORN. What shall I prescribe for you? Camomile tea? Soda?
room. PAULINA, MASHA, and DORN sit down beside him. Quinine?

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 Checkov
SORIN. Don’t inflict any of your discussions on me again. SORIN. [Laughing] I didn’t try for that, it came of its own
[He nods toward the sofa] Is that bed for me? accord.

PAULINA. Yes, for you, sir. DORN. Come, you must admit that it is petty to cavil at
life at sixty-two years of age.
SORIN. Thank you.
SORIN. You are pig-headed! Can’t you see I want to live?
DORN. [Sings] “The moon swims in the sky to-night.”
DORN. That is futile. Nature has commanded that every
SORIN. I am going to give Constantine an idea for a story. life shall come to an end.
It shall be called “The Man Who Wished—L’Homme qui a
voulu.” When I was young, I wished to become an author; SORIN. You speak like a man who is satiated with life.
I failed. I wished to be an orator; I speak abominably, Your thirst for it is quenched, and so you are calm and
[Exciting himself] with my eternal “and all, and all,” drag- indifferent, but even you dread death.
ging each sentence on and on until I sometimes break out
into a sweat all over. I wished to marry, and I didn’t; I DORN. The fear of death is an animal passion which must
wished to live in the city, and here I am ending my days in be overcome. Only those who believe in a future life and
the country, and all. tremble for sins committed, can logically fear death; but
you, for one thing, don’t believe in a future life, and for
DORN. You wished to become State Councillor, and—you another, you haven’t committed any sins. You have served
are one! as a Councillor for twenty-five years, that is all.

55
 The Sea-Gull
SORIN. [Laughing] Twenty-eight years! life seems to be yours, their soul flows into you, and you
begin to believe at last in a great world spirit, like the one
TREPLIEFF comes in and sits down on a stool at SORIN’S in your play that Nina Zarietchnaya acted. By the way,
feet. MASHA fixes her eyes on his face and never once where is Nina now? Is she well?
tears them away.
TREPLIEFF. I believe so.
DORN. We are keeping Constantine from his work.
DORN. I hear she has led rather a strange life; what hap-
TREPLIEFF. No matter. [A pause.] pened?

MEDVIEDENKO. Of all the cities you visited when you were TREPLIEFF. It is a long story, Doctor.
abroad, Doctor, which one did you like the best?
DORN. Tell it shortly. [A pause.]
DORN. Genoa.
TREPLIEFF. She ran away from home and joined Trigorin;
TREPLIEFF. Why Genoa? you know that?

DORN. Because there is such a splendid crowd in its streets. DORN. Yes.
When you leave the hotel in the evening, and throw your-
self into the heart of that throng, and move with it with- TREPLIEFF. She had a child that died. Trigorin soon tired
out aim or object, swept along, hither and thither, their of her and returned to hi s former ties, as might have been

56
 Checkov
expected. He had never broken them, indeed, but out of and did not insist upon a meeting. [A pause] What more
weakness of character had always vacillated between the can I tell you? She sometimes writes to me now that I
two. As far as I can make out from what I have heard, have come home, such clever, sympathetic letters, full of
Nina’s domestic life has not been altogether a success. warm feeling. She never complains, but I can tell that she
is profoundly unhappy; not a line but speaks to me of an
DORN. What about her acting? aching, breaking nerve. She has one strange fancy; she
always signs herself “The Sea-gull.” The miller in “Rusalka”
TREPLIEFF. I believe she made an even worse failure of that. called himself “The Crow,” and so she repeats in all her
She made her debut on the stage of the Summer Theatre in letters that she is a sea-gull. She is here now.
Moscow, and afterward made a tour of the country towns.
At that time I never let her out of my sight, and wherever DORN. What do you mean by “here?”
she went I followed. She always attempted great and diffi-
cult parts, but her delivery was harsh and monotonous, and TREPLIEFF. In the village, at the inn. She has been there
her gestures heavy and crude. She shrieked and died well at for five days. I should have gone to see her, but Masha
times, but those were but moments. here went, and she refuses to see any one. Some one told
me she had been seen wandering in the fields a mile from
DORN. Then she really has a talent for acting? here yesterday evening.

TREPLIEFF. I never could make out. I believe she has. I MEDVIEDENKO. Yes, I saw her. She was walking away from
saw her, but she refused to see me, and her servant would here in the direction of the village. I asked her why she
never admit me to her rooms. I appreciated her feelings, had not been to see us. She said she would come.

57
 The Sea-Gull
TREPLIEFF. But she won’t. [A pause] Her father and step- your grace, keep the secret of eternal youth.
mother have disowned her. They have even put watchmen
all around their estate to keep her away. [He goes with the ARKADINA. You are still trying to turn my head, you tire-
doctor toward the desk] How easy it is, Doctor, to be a some old man.
philosopher on paper, and how difficult in real life!
TRIGORIN. [To SORIN] How do you do, Peter? What, still
SORIN. She was a beautiful girl. Even the State Councillor ill? How silly of you! [With evident pleasure, as he catches
himself was in love with her for a time. sight of MASHA] How are you, Miss Masha?

DORN. You old Lovelace, you! MASHA. So you recognised me? [She shakes hands with
him.]
SHAMRAEFF’S laugh is heard.
TRIGORIN. Did you marry him?
PAULINA. They are coming back from the station.
MASHA. Long ago.
TREPLIEFF. Yes, I hear my mother’s voice.
TRIGORIN. You are happy now? [He bows to DORN and
ARKADINA and TRIGORIN come in, followed by SHAMRAEFF. MEDVIEDENKO, and then goes hesitatingly toward
TREPLIEFF] Your mother says you have forgotten the past
SHAMRAEFF. We all grow old and wither, my lady, while and are no longer angry with me.
you alone, with your light dress, your gay spirits, and

58
 Checkov
TREPLIEFF gives him his hand. to a magazine besides. In fact, it is the same old busi-
ness.
ARKADINA. [To her son] Here is a magazine that Boris has
brought you with your latest story in it. During their conversation ARKADINA and PAULINA have
put up a card-table in the centre of the room; SHAMRAEFF
TREPLIEFF. [To TRIGORIN, as he takes the magazine] Many lights the candles and arranges the chairs, then fetches a
thanks; you are very kind. box of lotto from the cupboard.

TRIGORIN. Your admirers all send you their regards. Every TRIGORIN. The weather has given me a rough welcome.
one in Moscow and St. Petersburg is interested in you, The wind is frightful. If it goes down by morning I shall
and all ply me with questions about you. They ask me go fishing in the lake, and shall have a look at the garden
what you look like, how old you are, whether you are fair and the spot—do you remember?—where your play was
or dark. For some reason they all think that you are no given. I remember the piece very well, but should like to
longer young, and no one knows who you are, as you see again where the scene was laid.
always write under an assumed name. You are as great a
mystery as the Man in the Iron Mask. MASHA. [To her father] Father, do please let my husband
have a horse. He ought to go home.
TREPLIEFF. Do you expect to be here long?
SHAMRAEFF. [Angrily] A horse to go home with! [Sternly]
TRIGORIN. No, I must go back to Moscow to-morrow. I You know the horses have just been to the station. I can’t
am finishing another novel, and have promised something send them out again.

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 The Sea-Gull
MASHA. But there are other horses. [Seeing that her fa- ARKADINA. [To TRIGORIN] When the long autumn eve-
ther remains silent] You are impossible! nings descend on us we while away the time here by play-
ing lotto. Look at this old set; we used it when our mother
MEDVIEDENKO. I shall go on foot, Masha. played with us as children. Don’t you want to take a hand
in the game with us until supper time? [She and TRIGORIN
PAULINA. [With a sigh] On foot in this weather? [She sit down at the table] It is a monotonous game, but it is
takes a seat at the card-table] Shall we begin? all right when one gets used to it. [She deals three cards
to each of the players.]
MEDVIEDENKO. It is only six miles. Good-bye. [He kisses
his wife’s hand;] Good-bye, mother. [His mother-in-law TREPLIEFF. [Looking through the pages of the magazine]
gives him her hand unwillingly] I should not have troubled He has read his own story, and hasn’t even cut the pages
you all, but the baby— [He bows to every one] Good-bye. of mine.
[He goes out with an apologetic air.]
He lays the magazine on his desk and goes toward the
SHAMRAEFF. He will get there all right, he is not a major- door on the right, stopping as he passes his mother to
general. give her a kiss.

PAULINA. Come, let us begin. Don’t let us waste time, we ARKADINA. Won’t you play, Constantine?
shall soon be called to supper.
TREPLIEFF. No, excuse me please, I don’t feel like it. I am
SHAMRAEFF, MASHA, and DORN sit down at the card-table. going to take a turn through the rooms. [He goes out.]

60
 Checkov
MASHA. Are you all ready? I shall begin: twenty-two. She unclasps a brooch from her breast and lays it on the
table.
ARKADINA. Here it is.
SHAMRAEFF. There is something worth while!
MASHA. Three.
MASHA. Fifty.
DORN. Right.
DORN. Fifty, did you say?
MASHA. Have you put down three? Eight. Eighty-one. Ten.
ARKADINA. I wore a perfectly magnificent dress; I am no
SHAMRAEFF. Don’t go so fast. fool when it comes to clothes.

ARKADINA. Could you believe it? I am still dazed by the PAULINA. Constantine is playing again; the poor boy is
reception they gave me in Kharkoff. sad.

MASHA. Thirty-four. [The notes of a melancholy waltz are SHAMRAEFF. He has been severely criticised in the papers.
heard.]
MASHA. Seventy-seven.
ARKADINA. The students gave me an ovation; they sent
me three baskets of flowers, a wreath, and this thing here. ARKADINA. They want to attract attention to him.

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 The Sea-Gull
TRIGORIN. He doesn’t seem able to make a success, he DORN. I have great faith in Constantine. I know there is
can’t somehow strike the right note. There is an odd vague- something in him. He thinks in images; his stories are
ness about his writings that sometimes verges on delirium. vivid and full of colour, and always affect me deeply. It is
He has never created a single living character. only a pity that he has no definite object in view. He
creates impressions, and nothing more, and one cannot
MASHA. Eleven. go far on impressions alone. Are you glad, madam, that
you have an author for a son?
ARKADINA. Are you bored, Peter? [A pause] He is asleep.
ARKADINA. Just think, I have never read anything of his;
DORN. The Councillor is taking a nap. I never have time.

MASHA. Seven. Ninety. MASHA. Twenty-six.

TRIGORIN. Do you think I should write if I lived in such a place TREPLIEFF comes in quietly and sits down at his table.
as this, on the shore of this lake? Never! I should overcome my
passion, and give my life up to the catching of fish. SHAMRAEFF. [To TRIGORIN] We have something here that
belongs to you, sir.
MASHA. Twenty-eight.
TRIGORIN. What is it?
TRIGORIN. And if I caught a perch or a bass, what bliss it
would be! SHAMRAEFF. You told me to have the sea-gull stuffed

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 Checkov
that Mr. Constantine killed some time ago. SHAMRAEFF. Bravo!

TRIGORIN. Did I? [Thoughtfully] I don’t remember. ARKADINA. Wherever he goes and whatever he does, that
man always has good luck. [She gets up] And now, come
MASHA. Sixty-one. One. to supper. Our renowned guest did not have any dinner
to-day. We can continue our game later. [To her son] Come,
TREPLIEFF throws open the window and stands listening. Constantine, leave your writing and come to supper.

TREPLIEFF. How dark the night is! I wonder what makes TREPLIEFF. I don’t want anything to eat, mother; I am
me so restless. not hungry.

ARKADINA. Shut the window, Constantine, there is a ARKADINA. As you please. [She wakes SORIN] Come to
draught here. supper, Peter. [She takes SHAMRAEFF’S arm] Let me tell
you about my reception in Kharkoff.
TREPLIEFF shuts the window.
PAULINA blows out the candles on the table, then she and
MASHA. Ninety-eight. DORN roll SORIN’S chair out of the room, and all go out
through the door on the left, except TREPLIEFF, who is left
TRIGORIN. See, my card is full. alone. TREPLIEFF prepares to write. He runs his eye over
what he has already written.
ARKADINA. [Gaily] Bravo! Bravo!

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 The Sea-Gull
TREPLIEFF. I have talked a great deal about new forms of of the window] I can’t see anything. [He opens the glass
art, but I feel myself gradually slipping into the beaten door and looks out into the garden] I heard some one run
track. [He reads] “The placard cried it from the wall—a down the steps. [He calls] Who is there? [He goes out,
pale face in a frame of dusky hair”—cried—frame—that and is heard walking quickly along the terrace. In a few
is stupid. [He scratches out what he has written] I shall minutes he comes back with NINA ZARIETCHNAYA] Oh,
begin again from the place where my hero is wakened by Nina, Nina!
the noise of the rain, but what follows must go. This
description of a moonlight night is long and stilted. Trigorin NINA lays her head on TREPLIEFF’S breast and stifles her
has worked out a process of his own, and descriptions are sobs.
easy for him. He writes that the neck of a broken bottle
lying on the bank glittered in the moonlight, and that the TREPLIEFF. [Deeply moved] Nina, Nina! It is you—you! I
shadows lay black under the mill-wheel. There you have a felt you would come; all day my heart has been aching for
moonlight night before your eyes, but I speak of the shim- you. [He takes off her hat and cloak] My darling, my
mering light, the twinkling stars, the distant sounds of a beloved has come back to me! We mustn’t cry, we mustn’t
piano melting into the still and scented air, and the result cry.
is abominable. [A pause] The conviction is gradually forc-
ing itself upon me that good literature is not a question NINA. There is some one here.
of forms new or old, but of ideas that must pour freely
from the author’s heart, without his bothering his head TREPLIEFF. No one is here.
about any forms whatsoever. [A knock is heard at the
window nearest the table] What was that? [He looks out NINA. Lock the door, some one might come.

64
 Checkov
TREPLIEFF. No one will come in. NINA. I was afraid you might hate me. I dream every
night that you look at me without recognising me. I have
NINA. I know your mother is here. Lock the door. been wandering about on the shores of the lake ever since
I came back. I have often been near your house, but I
TREPLIEFF locks the door on the right and comes back to have never had the courage to come in. Let us sit down.
NINA. [They sit down] Let us sit down and talk our hearts out. It
is so quiet and warm in here. Do you hear the wind whis-
TREPLIEFF. There is no lock on that one. I shall put a chair tling outside? As Turgenieff says, “Happy is he who can sit
against it. [He puts an arm-chair against the door] Don’t at night under the roof of his home, who has a warm
be frightened, no one shall come in. corner in which to take refuge.” I am a sea-gull—and
yet—no. [She passes her hand across her forehead] What
NINA. [Gazing intently into his face] Let me look at you. was I saying? Oh, yes, Turgenieff. He says, “and God help
[She looks about her] It is warm and comfortable in here. all houseless wanderers.” [She sobs.]
This used to be a sitting-room. Have I changed much?
TREPLIEFF. Nina! You are crying again, Nina!
TREPLIEFF. Yes, you have grown thinner, and your eyes are
larger than they were. Nina, it seems so strange to see NINA. It is all right. I shall feel better after this. I have
you! Why didn’t you let me go to you? Why didn’t you not cried for two years. I went into the garden last night
come sooner to me? You have been here nearly a week, I to see if our old theatre were still standing. I see it is. I
know. I have been several times each day to where you wept there for the first time in two years, and my heart
live, and have stood like a beggar beneath your window. grew lighter, and my soul saw more clearly again. See, I

65
 The Sea-Gull
am not crying now. [She takes his hand in hers] So you youth was suddenly plucked from me then, and I seem
are an author now, and I am an actress. We have both now to have lived in this world for ninety years. I have
been sucked into the whirlpool. My life used to be as called out to you, I have kissed the ground you walked
happy as a child’s; I used to wake singing in the morning; on, wherever I looked I have seen your face before my
I loved you and dreamt of fame, and what is the reality? eyes, and the smile that had illumined for me the best
To-morrow morning early I must start for Eltz by train in years of my life.
a third-class carriage, with a lot of peasants, and at Eltz
the educated trades-people will pursue me with compli- NINA. [Despairingly] Why, why does he talk to me like
ments. It is a rough life. this?

TREPLIEFF. Why are you going to Eltz? TREPLIEFF. I am quite alone, unwarmed by any attach-
ment. I am as cold as if I were living in a cave. Whatever
NINA. I have accepted an engagement there for the win- I write is dry and gloomy and harsh. Stay here, Nina, I
ter. It is time for me to go. beseech you, or else let me go away with you.

TREPLIEFF. Nina, I have cursed you, and hated you, and NINA quickly puts on her coat and hat.
torn up your photograph, and yet I have known every
minute of my life that my heart and soul were yours for TREPLIEFF. Nina, why do you do that? For God’s sake,
ever. To cease from loving you is beyond my power. I have Nina! [He watches her as she dresses. A pause.]
suffered continually from the time I lost you and began
to write, and my life has been almost unendurable. My NINA. My carriage is at the gate. Do not come out to see

66
 Checkov
me off. I shall find the way alone. [Weeping] Let me have became down-hearted and ceased to believe in it too.
some water. Then came all the cares of love, the continual anxiety
about my little one, so that I soon grew trivial and spir-
TREPLIEFF hands her a glass of water. itless, and played my parts without meaning. 1 never knew
what to do with my hands, and I could not walk properly
TREPLIEFF. Where are you going? or control my voice. You cannot imagine the state of mind
of one who knows as he goes through a play how terribly
NINA. Back to the village. Is your mother here? badly he is acting. I am a sea-gull—no—no, that is not
wha t I meant to say. Do you remember how you shot a
TREPLIEFF. Yes, my uncle fell ill on Thursday, and we tele- seagull once? A man chanced to pass that way and de-
graphed for her to come. stroyed it out of idleness. That is an idea for a short story,
but it is not what I meant to say. [She passes her hand
NINA. Why do you say that you have kissed the ground I across her forehead] What was I saying? Oh, yes, the stage.
walked on? You should kill me rather. [She bends over the I have changed now. Now I am a real actress. I act with
table] I am so tired. If I could only rest—rest. [She raises joy, with exaltation, I am intoxicated by it, and feel that
her head] I am a sea-gull—no—no, I am an actress. [She I am superb. I have been walking and walking, and think-
hears ARKADINA and TRIGORIN laughing in the distance, ing and thinking, ever since I have been here, and I feel
runs to the door on the left and looks through the key- the strength of my spirit growing in me every day. I know
hole] He is there too. [She goes back to TREPLIEFF] Ah, now, I understand at last, Constantine, that for us, whether
well—no matter. He does not believe in the theatre; he we write or act, it is not the honour and glory of which I
used to laugh at my dreams, so that little by little I have dreamt that is important, it is the strength to en-

67
 The Sea-Gull
dure. One must know how to bear one’s cross, and one me? Don’t tell Trigorin anything when you see him. I love
must have faith. I believe, and so do not suffer so much, him—I love him even more than I used to. It is an idea
and when I think of my calling I do not fear life. for a short story. I love him—I love him passionately—I
love him to despair. Have you forgotten, Constantine, how
TREPLIEFF. [Sadly] You have found your way, you know pleasant the old times were? What a gay, bright, gentle,
where you are going, but I am still groping in a chaos of pure life we led? How a feeling as sweet and tender as a
phantoms and dreams, not knowing whom and what end I flower blossomed in our hearts? Do you remember, [She
am serving by it all. I do not believe in anything, and I do recites] “All men and beasts, lions, eagles, and quails,
not know what my calling is. horned stags, geese, spiders, silent fish that inhabit the
waves, starfish from the sea, and creatures invisible to
NINA. [Listening] Hush! I must go. Good-bye. When I the eye—in one word, life—all, all life, completing the
have become a famous actress you must come and see dreary round set before it, has died out at last. A thou-
me. Will you promise to come? But now— [She takes his sand years have passed since the earth last bore a living
hand] it is late. I can hardly stand. I am fainting. I am creature on its breast, and the unhappy moon now lights
hungry. her lamp in vain. No longer are the cries of storks heard in
the meadows, or the drone of beetles in the groves of
TREPLIEFF. Stay, and let me bring you some supper. limes—”

NINA. No, no—and don’t come out, I can find the way She embraces TREPLIEFF impetuously and runs out onto
alone. My carriage is not far away. So she brought him the terrace.
back with her? However, what difference can that make to

68
 Checkov
TREPLIEFF. [After a pause] It would be a pity if she were SHAMRAEFF. Here is the stuffed sea-gull I was telling you
seen in the garden. My mother would be distressed. about. [He takes the sea-gull out of the cupboard] You
told me to have it done.
He stands for several minutes tearing up his manuscripts
and throwing them under the table, then unlocks the door TRIGORIN. [looking at the bird] I don’t remember a thing
on the right and goes out. about it, not a thing. [A shot is heard. Everyone jumps.]

DORN. [Trying to force open the door on the left] Odd! ARKADINA. [Frightened] What was that?
This door seems to be locked. [He comes in and puts the
chair back in its former place] This is like a hurdle race. DORN. Nothing at all; probably one of my medicine bottles
has blown up. Don’t worry. [He goes out through the door
ARKADINA and PAULINA come in, followed by JACOB car- on the right, and comes back in a few moments] It is as I
rying some bottles; then come MASHA, SHAMRAEFF, and thought, a flask of ether has exploded. [He sings]
TRIGORIN.
“Spellbound once more I stand before thee.”
ARKADINA. Put the claret and the beer here, on the table,
so that we can drink while we are playing. Sit down, friends. ARKADINA. [Sitting down at the table] Heavens! I was
really frightened. That noise reminded me of— [She cov-
PAULINA. And bring the tea at once. ers her face with her hands] Everything is black before my
eyes.
She lights the candles and takes her seat at the card-
table. SHAMRAEFF leads TRIGORIN to the cupboard.
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 The Sea-Gull
DORN. [Looking through the pages of a magazine, to
TRIGORIN] There was an article from America in this maga-
zine about two months ago that I wanted to ask you
about, among other things. [He leads TRIGORIN to the
front of the stage] I am very much interested in this ques-
To return to the Anton
tion. [He lowers his voice and whispers] You must take Checkov page, go to
Madame Arkadina away from here; what I wanted to say
was, that Constantine has shot himself. http://www2.hn.psu.edu/
The curtain falls.
faculty/jmanis/checkov.htm

To return to the Electronic

Classics Series page, go to
http://www2.hn.psu.edu/
faculty/jmanis/jimspdf.htm

70