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Forest； whither he had gone a few weeks before in the hope of
recovering his lost health。
Tchekoff； with an art peculiar to himself； in scattered scenes；
in haphazard glimpses into the lives of his characters； in
seemingly trivial conversations； has succeeded in so
concentrating the atmosphere of the Russia of his day that we
feel it in every line we read； oppressive as the mists that hang
over a lake at dawn； and； like those mists； made visible to us by
the light of an approaching day。
CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL WORKS OF ANTON TCHEKOFF
PLAYS
〃The Swan Song〃 1889
〃The Proposal〃 1889
〃Ivanoff 〃 1889
〃The Boor〃 1890
〃The SeaGull〃 1896
〃The Tragedian in Spite of Himself〃 1899
〃The Three Sisters〃 1901
〃Uncle Vanya〃 1902
〃The Cherry Orchard〃 1904
NOVELS AND SHORT STORIES
〃Humorous Folk〃 1887
〃Twilight； and Other Stories〃 1887
〃Morose Folk〃 1890
〃Variegated Tales〃 1894
〃Old Wives of Russia〃 1894
〃The Duel〃 1895
〃The Chestnut Tree〃 1895
〃Ward Number Six〃 1897
MISCELLANEOUS SKETCHES
〃The Island of Saghalien〃 1895
〃Peasants〃 1898
〃Life in the Provinces〃 1898
〃Children〃 1899
The Swan Song
CHARACTERS
VASILI SVIETLOVIDOFF； a comedian； 68 years old
NIKITA IVANITCH； a prompter； an old man
THE SWAN SONG
The scene is laid on the stage of a country theatre； at night；
after the play。 To the right a row of rough； unpainted doors
leading into the dressing…rooms。 To the left and in the
background the stage is encumbered with all sorts of rubbish。 In
the middle of the stage is an overturned stool。
SVIETLOVIDOFF。 ＇With a candle in his hand； comes out of a
dressing…room and laughs＇ Well； well； this is funny！ Here's a
good joke！ I fell asleep in my dressing…room when the play was
over； and there I was calmly snoring after everybody else had
left the theatre。 Ah！ I'm a foolish old man； a poor old dodderer！
I have been drinking again； and so I fell asleep in there；
sitting up。 That was clever！ Good for you； old boy！ ＇Calls＇
Yegorka！ Petrushka！ Where the devil are you？ Petrushka！ The
scoundrels must be asleep； and an earthquake wouldn't wake them
now！ Yegorka！ ＇Picks up the stool； sits down； and puts the candle
on the floor＇ Not a sound！ Only echos answer me。 I gave Yegorka
and Petrushka each a tip to…day； and now they have disappeared
without leaving a trace behind them。 The rascals have gone off
and have probably locked up the theatre。 ＇Turns his head about＇
I'm drunk！ Ugh！ The play to…night was for my benefit； and it is
disgusting to think how much beer and wine I have poured down my
throat in honour of the occasion。 Gracious！ My body is burning
all over； and I feel as if I had twenty tongues in my mouth。 It
is horrid！ Idiotic！ This poor old sinner is drunk again； and
doesn't even know what he has been celebrating！ Ugh！ My head is
splitting； I am shivering all over； and I feel as dark and cold
inside as a cellar！ Even if I don't mind ruining my health； I
ought at least to remember my age； old idiot that I am！ Yes； my
old age！ It's no use！ I can play the fool； and brag； and pretend
to be young； but my life is really over now； I kiss my hand to
the sixty…eight years that have gone by； I'll never see them
again！ I have drained the bottle； only a few little drops are
left at the bottom； nothing but the dregs。 Yes； yes； that's the
case； Vasili； old boy。 The time has come for you to rehearse the
part of a mummy； whether you like it or not。 Death is on its way
to you。 ＇Stares ahead of him＇ It is strange； though； that I have
been on the stage now for forty…five years； and this is the first
time I have seen a theatre at night； after the lights have been
put out。 The first time。 ＇Walks up to the foot…lights＇ How dark
it is！ I can't see a thing。 Oh； yes； I can just make out the
prompter's box； and his desk； the rest is in pitch darkness； a
black； bottomless pit； like a grave； in which death itself might
be hiding。。。。 Brr。。。。 How cold it is！ The wind blows out of the
empty theatre as though out of a stone flue。 What a place for
ghosts！ The shivers are running up and down my back。 ＇Calls＇
Yegorka！ Petrushka！ Where are you both？ What on earth makes me
think of such gruesome things here？ I must give up drinking； I'm
an old man； I shan't live much longer。 At sixty…eight people go
to church and prepare for death； but here I amheavens！ A
profane old drunkard in this fool's dressI'm simply not fit to
look at。 I must go and change it at once。。。。 This is a dreadful
place； I should die of fright sitting here all night。 ＇Goes
toward his dressing…room； at the same time NIKITA IVANITCH in a
long white coat comes out of the dressing…room at the farthest
end of the stage。 SVIETLOVIDOFF sees IVANITCHshrieks with
terror and steps back＇ Who are you？ What？ What do you want？
＇Stamps his foot＇ Who are you？
IVANITCH。 It is I； sir。
SVIETLOVIDOFF。 Who are you？
IVANITCH。 ＇Comes slowly toward him＇ It is I； sir； the prompter；
Nikita Ivanitch。 It is I； master； it is I！
SVIETLOVIDOFF。 ＇Sinks helplessly onto the stool； breathes heavily
and trembles violently＇ Heavens！ Who are you？ It is you 。 。 。 you
Nikitushka？ What 。 。 。 what are you doing here？
IVANITCH。 I spend my nights here in the dressing…rooms。 Only
please be good enough not to tell Alexi Fomitch； sir。 I have
nowhere else to spend the night； indeed； I haven't。
SVIETLOVIDOFF。 Ah！ It is you； Nikitushka； is it？ Just think； the
audience called me out sixteen times； they brought me three
wreathes and lots of other things； too； they were all wild with
enthusiasm； and yet not a soul came when it was all over to wake
the poor； drunken old man and take him home。 And I am an old man；
Nikitushka！ I am sixty…eight years old； and I am ill。 I haven't
the heart left to go on。 ＇Falls on IVANITCH'S neck and weeps＇
Don't go away； Nikitushka； I am old and helpless； and I feel it
is time for me to die。 Oh； it is dreadful； dreadful！
IVANITCH。 ＇Tenderly and respectfully＇ Dear master！ it is time for
you to go home； sir！
SVIETLOVIDOFF。 I won't go home； I have no homenone！
none！none！
IVANITCH。 Oh； dear！ Have you forgotten where you live？
SVIETLOVIDOFF。 I won't go there。 I won't！ I am all alone there。 I
have nobody； Nikitushka！ No wifeno children。 I am like the wind
blowing across the lonely fields。 I shall die； and no one will
remember me。 It is awful to be aloneno one to cheer me； no one
to caress me； no one to help me to bed when I am drunk。 Whom do I
belong to？ Who needs me？ Who loves me？ Not a soul； Nikitushka。
IVANITCH。 ＇Weeping＇ Your audience loves you； master。
SVIETLOVIDOFF。 My audience has gone home。 They are all asleep；
and have forgotten their old clown。 No； nobody needs me； nobody
loves me； I have no wife； no children。
IVANITCH。 Oh； dear！ Oh； dear！ Don't be so unhappy about it。
SVIETLOVIDOFF。 But I am a man； I am still alive。 Warm； red blood
is tingling in my veins； the blood of noble ancestors。 I am an
aristocrat； Nikitushka； I served in the army； in the artillery；
before I fell as low as this； and what a fine young chap I was！
Handsome； daring； eager！ Where has it all gone？ What has become
of those old days？ There's the pit that has swallow