Analysis of individual works by L. N

Andreev from his youth was surprised at the undemanding attitude of people to life, and he denounced this undemandingness. “The time will come,” Andreev, a schoolboy, wrote in his diary, “I will draw people an amazing picture of their life,” and I did. Thought is the object of attention and the main tool of the author, who is turned not to the flow of life, but to reflections on this flow.

Andreev is not one of the writers whose multi-color play of tones gives the impression of living life, as, for example, in A.P. Chekhov, I.A. Bunin, B.K. Zaitsev. He preferred the grotesque, the anguish, the contrast of black and white. A similar expressiveness, emotionality distinguishes the works of F. M. Dostoevsky, beloved by Andreev V. M. Garshin, E. Po. His city is not big, but "huge", his characters are oppressed not by loneliness, but by "fear of loneliness", they do not cry, but "howl". Time in his stories is "compressed" by events. The author seemed to be afraid of being misunderstood in the world of the visually and hearing impaired. It seems that Andreev is bored in the current time, he is attracted by eternity, the "eternal appearance of man", it is important for him not to depict the phenomenon, but to express his evaluative attitude towards it. It is known that the works "The Life of Basil of Thebes" (1903) and "Darkness" (1907) were written under the impression of the events told to the author, but he completely interprets these events in his own way.

There are no difficulties in the periodization of Andreev’s work: he always painted the battle between darkness and light as a battle of equivalent principles, but if in the early period of his work there was an illusory hope for the victory of light in the subtext of his works, then by the end of his work this hope was gone.

Andreev by nature had a special interest in everything inexplicable in the world, in people, in himself; desire to see beyond the boundaries of life. As a young man, he played dangerous games that allowed him to feel the breath of death. The characters of his works also look into the "kingdom of the dead", for example, Eleazar (the story "Eleazar", 1906), who received there "cursed knowledge" that kills the desire to live. Andreev's work also corresponded to the eschatological mindset that was then developing in the intellectual environment, the aggravated questions about the patterns of life, the essence of man: "Who am I?", "Meaning, meaning of life, where is he?", "Man? Of course, both beautiful and proud, impressive, but where is the end? These questions from Andreev's letters lie in the subtext of most of his works. The skeptical attitude of the writer caused all theories of progress. Suffering from his unbelief, he rejects the religious path of salvation: "To what unknown and terrible limits will my denial reach?.. I will not accept God..."

The story "The Lie" (1900) ends with a very characteristic exclamation: "Oh, what madness to be a man and seek the truth! What a pain!" Andreevsky narrator often sympathizes with a person who, figuratively speaking, falls into the abyss and tries to grab at least something. "There was no well-being in his soul," G. I. Chulkov reasoned in his recollections of a friend, "he was all in anticipation of a catastrophe." A. A. Blok also wrote about the same thing, feeling “horror at the door” while reading Andreev4. There was a lot of the author himself in this falling man. Andreev often "entered" his characters, shared with them a common, according to K. I. Chukovsky, "spiritual tone."

Paying attention to social and property inequality, Andreev had reason to call himself a student of G. I. Uspensky and C. Dickens. However, he did not understand and represent the conflicts of life in the same way as M. Gorky, A. S. Serafimovich, E. N. Chirikov, S. Skitalets, and other “knowledge writers”: he did not indicate the possibility of their solution in the context of the current time. Andreev looked at good and evil as eternal, metaphysical forces, perceived people as forced conductors of these forces. A break with the bearers of revolutionary convictions was inevitable. VV Borovsky, crediting Andreev "predominantly" in the "social" writers, pointed to his "incorrect" coverage of the vices of life. The writer was not his own either among the "right" or among the "left" and was weighed down by creative loneliness.

Andreev wanted, first of all, to show the dialectic of thoughts, feelings, the complex inner world of the characters. Almost all of them, more than hunger, cold, are oppressed by the question of why life is built this way and not otherwise. They look into themselves, trying to understand the motives of their behavior. Whoever his hero is, everyone has "his own cross", everyone suffers.

“It doesn’t matter to me who“ he ”is, the hero of my stories: non, official, good-natured or cattle. The only thing that matters to me is that he is a man and as such bears the same hardships of life.”

In these lines of Andreev's letter to Chukovsky there is a bit of exaggeration, his author's attitude to the characters is differentiated, but there is also truth. Critics rightly compared the young prose writer with F. M. Dostoevsky - both artists showed the human soul as a field of collisions of chaos and harmony. However, a significant difference between them is also obvious: Dostoevsky, in the end, provided that humanity accepted Christian humility, predicted the victory of harmony, while Andreev, by the end of the first decade of his work, almost excluded the idea of ​​harmony from the space of his artistic coordinates.

The pathos of many of Andreev's early works is due to the characters' desire for a "different life". In this sense, the story "In the basement" (1901) about embittered people at the bottom of life is noteworthy. Here comes a deceived young woman "from society" with a newborn. She was not without reason afraid of meeting with thieves, prostitutes, but the baby relieves the tension that has arisen. The unfortunate are drawn to a pure "gentle and weak" being. They wanted to prevent the boulevard woman from reaching the child, but she heart-rendingly demands: "Give!.. Give!.. Give!.." And this "careful, two-finger touch on the shoulder" is described as a touch on a dream: , like a light in the steppe, vaguely called them somewhere ... The young prose writer passes the romantic "somewhere" from story to story. A dream, a Christmas tree decoration, a country estate can serve as a symbol of "another", bright life, other relationships. The attraction to this "other" in Andreev's characters is shown as an unconscious, innate feeling, for example, as in the teenager Sashka from the story "Angel" (1899). This restless, half-starved, offended by the whole world “wolf cub”, who “at times ... wanted to stop doing what is called life”, accidentally got into a rich house on a holiday, saw a wax angel on the Christmas tree. A beautiful toy becomes for the child a sign of "a wonderful world where he once lived," where "they do not know about dirt and abuse." She must belong to him! .. Sashka endured a lot, defending the only thing he had - pride, for the sake of an angel, he falls on his knees in front of the "unpleasant aunt." And again passionate: "Give! .. Give! .. Give! .."

The position of the author of these stories, who inherited pain for all the unfortunate from the classics, is humane and demanding, but unlike his predecessors, Andreev is tougher. He sparingly measures offended characters a fraction of peace: their joy is fleeting, and their hope is illusory. The “dead man” Khizhiyakov from the story “In the basement” shed happy tears, it suddenly seemed to him that he “will live a long time, and his life will be beautiful,” but, the narrator concludes his word, at his head “the predatory death was already silently seated” . And Sashka, having played enough of an angel, falls asleep happy for the first time, and at that time the wax toy melts either from the breath of a hot stove, or from the action of some fatal force: Ugly and motionless shadows were carved on the wall ... "The author dashedly denotes the presence of this force almost in each of his works.The characteristic figure of evil is built on various phenomena: shadows, night darkness, natural disasters, obscure characters, mystical "something", "someone", etc. knocking on hot stoves. " A similar fall will have to endure Sasha.

The errand boy from the city barbershop will also survive the fall in the story "Petka in the Country" (1899). The "aged dwarf", who knew only labor, beatings, hunger, also strove with all his heart to the unknown "somewhere", "to another place about which he could not say anything." Having accidentally found himself in the master's country estate, "entering into complete harmony with nature", Petka is externally and internally transformed, but soon a fatal force in the person of the mysterious owner of the hairdresser's pulls him out of the "other" life. The inhabitants of the barbershop are puppets, but they are described in sufficient detail, and only the master-puppeteer is depicted in the outline. Over the years, the role of the invisible black force in the vicissitudes of the plots becomes more and more noticeable.

Andreev has no or almost no happy endings, but the darkness of life in the early stories was dispelled by glimpses of light: the awakening of Man in man was revealed. The motive of awakening is organically connected with the motive of Andreev's characters striving for "another life". In "Bargamot and Garaska" the awakening is experienced by antipodal characters in whom everything human seems to have died forever. But outside the plot, the idyll of a drunkard and a policeman (a "relative" of the guard Mymretsov G. I. Uspensky, a classic of "collar propaganda") is doomed. In other typologically similar works, Andreev shows how difficult and how late a person wakes up in a person ("Once Upon a Time", 1901; "Spring", 1902). With the awakening, Andreev's characters often come to realize their callousness ("The First Fee", 1899; "No Forgiveness", 1904).

Very in this sense, the story "Hoste" (1901). The young apprentice Senista is waiting for Master Sazonka in the hospital. He promised not to leave the boy "a victim of loneliness, illness and fear." But Easter came, Sazonka went on a spree and forgot his promise, and when he arrived, Senista was already in the dead room. Only the death of a child, "like a puppy thrown into the garbage," revealed to the master the truth about the darkness of his own soul: "Lord! - Sazonka cried<...>raising your hands to the sky<...>"Aren't we humans?"

The difficult awakening of Man is also mentioned in the story "Theft was Coming" (1902). The man who was about to "maybe kill" is stopped by pity for the freezing puppy. The high price of pity, "light<...>in the midst of deep darkness ... "- this is what it is important to convey to the reader to the humanist narrator.

Many of Andreev's characters are tormented by their isolation, their existential worldview. In vain are their often extreme attempts to free themselves from this ailment ("Valya", 1899; "Silence" and "The Story of Sergei Petrovich", 1900; "Original Man", 1902). The story "The City" (1902) speaks of a petty official, depressed by both life and life, flowing in the stone bag of the city. Surrounded by hundreds of people, he suffocates from the loneliness of a meaningless existence, against which he protests in a pathetic, comical way. Here Andreev continues the theme of the "little man" and his desecrated dignity, set by the author of "The Overcoat". The narration is filled with participation to the person who has the disease "influenza" - the event of the year. Andreev borrows from Gogol the situation of a suffering person defending his dignity: "We are all people! All brothers!" - drunken Petrov cries in a state of passion. However, the writer changes the interpretation of a well-known theme. Among the classics of the golden age of Russian literature, the "little man" is overwhelmed by the character and wealth of the "big man." For Andreev, the material and social hierarchy does not play a decisive role: loneliness crushes. In the "City" the gentlemen are virtuous, and they themselves are the same Petrovs, but at a higher rung of the social ladder. Andreev sees tragedy in the fact that individuals do not constitute a community. A noteworthy episode: a lady from the "institution" meets with laughter Petrov's proposal to marry, but "squeals" understandingly and in fear when he spoke to her about loneliness.

Andreev's misunderstanding is equally dramatic, both inter-class, intra-class, and intra-family. The divisive force in his artistic world has a wicked sense of humor, as presented in the short story "The Grand Slam" (1899). For many years "summer and winter, spring and autumn" four people played vint, but when one of them died, it turned out that the others did not know if the deceased was married, where he lived ... Most of all, the company was struck by the fact that the deceased will never know about his luck in the last game: "he had the right grand slam."

This power overwhelms any well-being. Six-year-old Yura Pushkarev, the protagonist of the story "The Flower Under the Foot" (1911), was born into a wealthy family, loved, but, depressed by the mutual misunderstanding of his parents, is lonely, and only "pretends that life in the world is very fun." The child "leaves people", escaping in a fictional world. To an adult hero named Yuri Pushkarev, outwardly a happy family man, a talented pilot, the writer returns in the story "Flight" (1914). These works constitute a small tragic dilogy. Pushkarev experienced the joy of being only in the sky, where in his subconscious a dream was born to remain forever in the blue expanse. A fatal force threw the car down, but the pilot himself "on the ground ... never returned."

"Andreev, - wrote E. V. Anichkov, - made us feel the terrible, chilling consciousness of the impenetrable abyss that lies between man and man."

Disunity breeds militant selfishness. Dr. Kerzhentsev from the story "Thought" (1902) is capable of strong feelings, but he used all his mind to plan the insidious murder of a more successful friend - the husband of his beloved woman, and then to play with the investigation. He is convinced that he owns the thought, like a swordsman, but at some point the thought betrays and plays tricks on its bearer. She was tired of satisfying "outside" interests. Kerzhentsev lives out his life in a lunatic asylum. The pathos of this Andreevsky story is opposite to the pathos of M. Gorky's lyrical-philosophical poem "Man" (1903), this hymn to the creative power of human thought. Already after the death of Andreev, Gorky recalled that the writer perceived thought as "a cruel joke of the devil on man." About V. M. Garshin, A. P. Chekhov they said that they awaken the conscience. Andreev awakened the mind, or rather, anxiety for its destructive potentialities. The writer surprised his contemporaries with unpredictability, predilection for antinomies.

“Leonid Nikolaevich,” M. Gorky wrote with a table of reproach, “strangely and painfully sharply for himself, dug himself in two: in the same week he could sing “Hosanna!” to the world and proclaim to him “Anathema!”.

That is how Andreev revealed the dual essence of man, "divine and insignificant", according to the definition of V. S. Solovyov. The artist again and again returns to the question that disturbs him: which of the "abysses" prevails in man? Regarding the relatively bright story "On the River" (1900) about how a "stranger" person overcame hatred for the people who offended him and, risking his life, saved them in the spring flood, M. Gorky enthusiastically wrote to Andreev:

"You love the sun. And this is great, this love is the source of true art, real, the very poetry that enlivens life."

However, soon Andreev creates one of the most terrible stories in Russian literature - "The Abyss" (1901). This is a psychologically convincing, artistically expressive study of the fall of the human in man.

It's scary: a pure girl was crucified by "subhumans". But it is even more terrible when, after a short internal struggle, an intellectual, a lover of romantic poetry, a young man tremblingly in love behaves like an animal. A little more "before" he did not even suspect that the beast-abyss lurked in him. "And the black abyss swallowed him" - this is the final phrase of the story. Some critics praised Andreev for his bold drawing, while others urged readers to boycott the author. At meetings with readers, Andreev insisted that no one was immune from such a fall.

In the last decade of creativity, Andreev spoke much more often about the awakening of the beast in man than about the awakening of Man in man. Very expressive in this series is the psychological story "In the Fog" (1902) about how a prosperous student's hatred of himself and the world found an outlet in the murder of a prostitute. Many publications mention the words about Andreev, the authorship of which is attributed to Leo Tolstoy: "He scares, but we are not afraid." But it is unlikely that all readers who are familiar with the named works of Andreev, as well as with his story "Lie", written a year before "Abyss", or with the stories "Curse of the Beast" (1908) and "Rules of Good" (1911) will agree with this. , telling about the loneliness of a person doomed to fight for survival in the irrational stream of being.

The relationship between M. Gorky and L. N. Andreev is an interesting page in the history of Russian literature. Gorky helped Andreev enter the literary field, contributed to the appearance of his works in the almanacs of the "Knowledge" partnership, introduced "Wednesday" to the circle. In 1901, at the expense of Gorky, the first book of Andreev's stories was published, which brought fame and approval to the author of L. N. Tolstoy, A. P. Chekhov. "The only friend" called Andreev senior comrade. However, all this did not straighten their relationship, which Gorky characterized as "friendship-enmity" (an oxymoron could be born when he read Andreev's letter1).

Indeed, there was a friendship of great writers, according to Andreev, who beat "on one petty-bourgeois snout" of complacency. The allegorical story "Ben-Tobit" (1903) is an example of St. Andrew's blow. The plot of the story moves like a dispassionate narration about outwardly unrelated events: a “kind and good” inhabitant of a village near Golgotha ​​has a toothache, and at the same time, on the mountain itself, the decision of the trial of “some Jesus” is being carried out. The unfortunate Ben-Tobit is outraged by the noise outside the walls of the house, it gets on his nerves. "How they scream!" - this man is indignant, "who did not like injustice", offended by the fact that no one cares about his suffering.

It was a friendship of writers who sang the heroic, rebellious beginnings of personality. The author of "The Tale of the Seven Hanged Men" (1908), which tells about a sacrificial feat, but more about the feat of overcoming the fear of death, wrote to V.V. Veresaev: "And a beautiful person is when he is bold and mad and tramples death with death."

Many of Andreev's characters are united by the spirit of opposition, rebellion is an attribute of their essence. They rebel against the power of gray life, fate, loneliness, against the Creator, even if the doom of protest is revealed to them. Resistance to circumstances makes a person a Human - this idea underlies Andreev's philosophical drama "The Life of a Human" (1906). Mortally wounded by the blows of an incomprehensible evil force, the Man curses her at the edge of the grave, calling for a fight. But the pathos of resistance to the "walls" in Andreev's writings weakens over the years, the author's critical attitude to the "eternal image" of man intensifies.

First, a misunderstanding arose between the writers, then, especially after the events of 1905-1906, something really resembling enmity. Gorky did not idealize a person, but at the same time he often expressed the conviction that the shortcomings of human nature are, in principle, correctable. One criticized the "balance of the abyss", the other - "peppy fiction". Their paths diverged, but even during the years of alienation, Gorky called his contemporary "the most interesting writer ... of all European literature." And one can hardly agree with Gorky's opinion that their controversy interfered with the cause of literature.

To a certain extent, the essence of their differences is revealed by a comparison of Gorky's novel "Mother" (1907) and Andreev's novel "Sashka Zhegulev" (1911). In both works, we are talking about young people who have gone into the revolution. Gorky begins with naturalistic figurativeness, ends with romantic. Andreev's pen goes in the opposite direction: he shows how the seeds of the bright ideas of the revolution germinate in darkness, rebellion, "senseless and merciless."

The artist considers phenomena in the perspective of development, predicts, provokes, warns. In 1908, Andreev completed work on the philosophical and psychological story-pamphlet My Notes. The main character is a demonic character, a criminal convicted of a triple murder, and at the same time a seeker of truth. "Where is the truth? Where is the truth in this world of ghosts and lies?" - the prisoner asks himself, but in the end, the newly-minted inquisitor sees the evil of life in people's desire for freedom, and feels "tender gratitude, almost love" to the iron bars on the prison window, which revealed to him the beauty of limitation. He alters the well-known formula and states: "Lack of freedom is a conscious necessity." This "masterpiece of controversy" confused even the writer's friends, since the narrator hides his attitude to the beliefs of the "iron lattice" poet. It is now clear that in "Notes" Andreev approached the popular in the 20th century. genre of dystopia, predicted the danger of totalitarianism. The builder of the "Integral" from the novel "We" by E. I. Zamyatin, in his notes, in fact, continues the reasoning of this character Andreev:

"Freedom and crime are as inextricably linked as ... well, like the movement of an aero and its speed: the speed of an aero is 0, and it does not move, the freedom of a person is 0, and it does not commit crimes."

Is there one truth "or there are at least two of them," Andreev joked sadly and examined the phenomena from one side, then the other. In "The Tale of the Seven Hanged Men" he reveals the truth on one side of the barricades, in the story "The Governor" - on the other. The problems of these works are indirectly connected with revolutionary affairs. In The Governor (1905), a representative of the authorities doomedly awaits the execution of a death sentence pronounced on him by a people's court. A crowd of strikers "of several thousand people" came to his residence. First, impracticable demands were put forward, and then the pogrom began. The governor was forced to order the firing. Children were also among those killed. The narrator realizes both the justice of the people's anger and the fact that the governor was forced to resort to violence; he sympathizes with both sides. The general, tormented by pangs of conscience, finally condemns himself to death: he refuses to leave the city, travels without guards, and the "Law-Avenger" overtakes him. In both works, the writer points out the absurdity of life in which a person kills a person, the unnaturalness of a person's knowledge of the hour of his death.

The critics were right, they saw in Andreev a supporter of universal values, a non-party artist. In a number of works on the subject of revolution, such as "Into the Dark Distance" (1900), "La Marseillaise" (1903), the most important thing for the author is to show something inexplicable in a person, the paradox of an act. However, the "Black Hundred" considered him a revolutionary writer, and, fearing its threats, the Andreev family lived for some time abroad.

The depth of many of Andreev's works was not immediately revealed. So it happened with "Red Laughter" (1904). The author was prompted to write this story by newspaper news from the fields of the Russo-Japanese War. He showed war as madness that breeds madness. Andreev stylizes his narrative as fragmentary recollections of a front-line officer who has gone mad:

"This is red laughter. When the earth goes crazy, it starts laughing like that. There are no flowers or songs on it, it has become round, smooth and red, like a head that has been torn off the skin."

V. Veresaev, a participant in the Russo-Japanese War, the author of the realistic notes "At War", criticized Andreev's story for not being true. He spoke about the property of human nature to "get used" to all sorts of circumstances. According to Andreev's work, it is precisely directed against the human habit of elevating to the norm what should not be the norm. Gorky urged the author to "improve" the story, to reduce the element of subjectivity, to introduce more concrete, realistic depictions of the war. Andreev answered sharply: “To heal means to destroy the story, its main idea ... My topic: madness and horror." It is clear that the author valued the philosophical generalization contained in the "Red Laughter" and its projection into the coming decades.

Both the already mentioned story "Darkness" and the story "Judas Iscariot" (1907) were not understood by contemporaries who correlated their content with the social situation in Russia after the events of 1905 and condemned the author for "an apologia for betrayal." They ignored the most important - philosophical - paradigm of these works.

In the story "Darkness", a selfless and bright young revolutionary hiding from the gendarmes is struck by the "truth of a brothel", revealed to him in the question of the prostitute Lyubka: what right does he have to be good if she is bad? He suddenly realized that his and his comrades' rise had been bought at the price of the fall of many unfortunates, and he concluded that "if we cannot illuminate all the darkness with lanterns, then let's put out the fires and climb into the darkness." Yes, the author highlighted the position of an anarchist-maximalist, to which the bomber switched, but he also highlighted the "new Lyubka", who dreamed of joining the ranks of "good" fighters for another life. This plot twist was dismissed by critics, who condemned the author for what they felt was a sympathetic portrayal of a renegade. But the image of Lyubka, which later researchers ignored, plays an important role in the content of the story.

The story "Judas Iscariot" is tougher, in it the author draws the "eternal image" of mankind, who did not accept the Word of God and killed the one who brought it. "Behind her," A. A. Blok wrote about the story, "the author's soul is a living wound." In the story, the genre of which can be defined as "The Gospel of Judas", Andreev does not change much in the storyline outlined by the evangelists. He attributes episodes that could take place in the relationship between the Teacher and the students. All the canonical gospels also differ in episodes. At the same time, Andreev's, so to speak, legal approach to characterizing the behavior of participants in biblical events reveals the dramatic inner world of the "traitor." This approach reveals the predestination of tragedy: without blood, without the miracle of the resurrection, people do not recognize the Son of Man, the Savior. The duality of Judas, which was reflected in his appearance, his tossings, mirrors the duality of Christ's behavior: they both foresaw the course of events and both had reason to love and hate each other. "And who will help poor Iscariot?" - Christ meaningfully answers Peter to the request to help him in power games with Judas. Christ bows his head sadly and understandingly when he hears the words of Judas that in another life he will be the first to be next to the Savior. Judas knows the price of evil and good in this world, painfully experiences his rightness. Judas executes himself for betrayal, without which the Coming would not have taken place: the Word would not have reached mankind. The act of Judas, who, until the very tragic end, hoped that the people on Golgotha ​​were about to see the light, see and realize who they were executing, is "the last stake of faith in people." The author condemns all mankind, including the apostles, for being impervious to goodness3. Andreev has an interesting allegory on this subject, created simultaneously with the story - "The snake's story about how it got poisonous teeth." The ideas of these works will germinate in the final work of the prose writer - the novel Satan's Diary (1919), published after the author's death.

Andreev was always attracted by an artistic experiment in which he could bring together the inhabitants of the real world and the inhabitants of the manifest world. Quite originally, he brought both of them together in the philosophical fairy tale "Earth" (1913). The Creator sends angels to the earth, wishing to know the needs of people, but, having learned the "truth" of the earth, the messengers "give", they cannot keep their clothes unstained and do not return to heaven. They are ashamed to be "clean" among people. A loving God understands them, forgives them, and reproachfully looks at the messenger who visited the earth, but kept his white clothes clean. He himself cannot descend to earth, for then people will not need heaven. There is no such condescending attitude towards humanity in the latest novel, which brings together the inhabitants of opposite worlds.

Andreev for a long time tried on the "wandering" plot associated with the earthly adventures of the incarnated devil. The implementation of the long-standing idea to create "the devil's notes" was preceded by the creation of a colorful picture: Satan-Mephistopheles is sitting over the manuscript, dipping his pen in the ink pot1. At the end of his life, Andreev enthusiastically worked on a work about the stay on earth of the leader of all the unclean with a very non-trivial ending. In the novel "Satan's Diary" the fiend is a suffering person. The idea of ​​the novel can already be seen in the story "My Notes", in the image of the protagonist, in his reflections that the devil himself with all his "reserve of hellish lies, cunning and cunning" can be "led by the nose". The idea for the composition could have originated with Andreev while reading The Brothers Karamazov by F. M. Dostoevsky, in the chapter about the devil who dreams of becoming a naive merchant's wife: my suffering." But where Dostoevsky's devil wanted to find peace, an end to "suffering." The Prince of Darkness Andreeva is just beginning his suffering. An important originality of the work is the multidimensionality of the content: on one side the novel is turned to the time of its creation, on the other - to "eternity". The author trusts Satan to express his most disturbing thoughts about the essence of man, in fact, casts doubt on many ideas of his earlier works. "Satan's Diary", as Yu. Babicheva, a long-time researcher of L. N. Andreeva's work, noted, is also "the personal diary of the author himself."

Satan, in the guise of a merchant he killed and using his own money, decided to play with humanity. But a certain Thomas Magnus decided to take possession of the alien's funds. He plays on the alien's feelings for a certain Mary, in whom the devil saw the Madonna. Love has transformed Satan, he is ashamed of his involvement in evil, the decision has come to become just a man. To atone for past sins, he gives the money to Magnus, who promised to become a benefactor of people. But Satan is deceived and ridiculed: the "earthly Madonna" turns out to be a figurehead, a prostitute. Thomas ridiculed diabolical altruism, took possession of money in order to blow up the planet of people. In the end, in the scientific chemist, Satan sees the illegitimate son of his own father: "It is hard and insulting to be this little thing, which is called a man on earth, a cunning and greedy worm ..." - reflects Satan1.

Magnus is also a tragic figure, a product of human evolution, a character who suffered his misanthropy. The narrator equally understands both Satan and Thomas. It is noteworthy that the writer endows Magnus with an appearance reminiscent of his own (this can be seen by comparing the portrait of the character with the portrait of Andreev, written by I. E. Repin). Satan gives a person an assessment from the outside, Magnus - from the inside, but in the main their assessments coincide. The culmination of the story is parodic: the events of the night are described, "when Satan was tempted by man." Satan is crying, having seen his reflection in people, the earthly ones are laughing "at all ready devils."

Crying - the leitmotifs of Andreev's works. Many and many of his characters shed tears, offended by the powerful and evil darkness. God's light wept - the darkness wept, the circle closes, there is no way out for anyone. In "The Diary of Satan" Andreev came close to what L. I. Shestov called "the apotheosis of groundlessness."

At the beginning of the 20th century in Russia, as well as throughout Europe, theatrical life was in its heyday. People of creativity argued about the ways of development of performing arts. In a number of publications, primarily in two "Letters on the Theater" (1911 - 1913), Andreev presented his "theory of the new drama", his vision of the "theater of pure psychism" and created a number of plays that corresponded to the tasks put forward2. He proclaimed "the end of everyday life and ethnography" on the stage, and opposed the "obsolete" A. II. Ostrovsky to the "modern" A.P. Chekhov. It is not the moment that is dramatic, Andreev argues, when the soldiers shoot the rebellious workers, but the one when the factory owner struggles "with two truths" on a sleepless night. He leaves the spectacle for the cafeteria and the cinema; the theater stage, in his opinion, should belong to the invisible - the soul. In the old theatre, the critic concludes, the soul was "contraband". Andreev the prose writer is recognizable in the innovator-playwright.

Andreev's first work for the theater was the romantic-realistic play "To the Stars" (1905) about the place of the intelligentsia in the revolution. Gorky was also interested in this topic, and for some time they worked together on the play, but co-authorship did not take place. The reasons for the gap become clear when comparing the problems of two plays: "To the Stars" by L. N. Andreev and "Children of the Sun" by M. Gorky. In one of Gorky's best plays, born in connection with their common idea, one can detect something "Andreev", for example, in contrasting "children of the sun" with "children of the earth", but not much. It is important for Gorky to imagine the social moment of the intelligentsia's entry into the revolution; for Andreev, the main thing is to correlate the purposefulness of scientists with the purposefulness of revolutionaries. It is noteworthy that Gorky's characters are engaged in biology, their main tool is a microscope, Andreev's characters are astronomers, their instrument is a telescope. Andreev gives the floor to the revolutionaries who believe in the possibility of destroying all "walls", to the petty-bourgeois skeptics, to the neutrals who are "above the fray", and all of them have "their own truth". The movement of life forward - an obvious and important idea of ​​​​the play - is determined by the creative obsession of individuals, and it does not matter whether they give themselves to the revolution or science. But only people who live with their souls and thoughts turned to the "triumphant immensity" of the Universe are happy with him. The harmony of the eternal Cosmos is opposed to the insane fluidity of the life of the earth. The cosmos is in harmony with the truth, the earth is wounded by the collision of "truths".

Andreev has a number of plays, the presence of which allowed contemporaries to talk about "the theater of Leonid Andreev." This series opens with the philosophical drama The Life of a Man (1907). Other most successful works of this series are Black Masks (1908); "Tsar-Hunger" (1908); "Anatema" (1909); "Ocean" (1911). Andreev's psychological works are close to the named plays, for example, such as "Dog Waltz", "Samson in Chains" (both - 1913-1915), "Requiem" (1917). The playwright called his compositions for the theater "representations", thereby emphasizing that this is not a reflection of life, but a play of the imagination, a spectacle. He argued that on the stage the general is more important than the particular, that the type speaks more than the photograph, and the symbol is more eloquent than the type. Critics noted the language of modern theater found by Andreev - the language of philosophical drama.

In the drama "Life of Man" the formula of life is presented; the author "frees himself from everyday life", goes in the direction of maximum generalization1. There are two central characters in the play: Human, in whose person the author proposes to see humanity, and Someone in gray, called He, - something that combines human ideas about the supreme third-party force: God, fate, fate, the devil. Between them - guests, neighbors, relatives, good people, villains, thoughts, emotions, masks. Someone in gray acts as a messenger of the "circle of iron destiny": birth, poverty, work, love, wealth, fame, misfortune, poverty, oblivion, death. The transience of human stay in the "iron circle" is reminiscent of a candle burning in the hands of a mysterious Someone. The performance involves characters familiar from ancient tragedy - a messenger, moira, a choir. When staging the play, the author demanded that the director avoid halftones: "If kind, then like an angel; if stupid, then like a minister; if ugly, then so that the children are afraid. Sharp contrasts."

Andreev strove for unambiguity, allegorism, for symbols of life. It has no symbols in the symbolist sense. This is the manner of lubok painters, expressionist painters, icon painters, who depicted the earthly path of Christ in squares bordered by a single salary. The play is tragic and heroic at the same time: despite all the blows of outside forces, the Man does not give up, and at the edge of the grave he throws down the glove to the mysterious Someone. The finale of the play is similar to the finale of the story "The Life of Basil of Thebes": the character is broken, but not defeated. A. A. Blok, who watched the play staged by V. E. Meyerhold, in his review noted the non-randomness of the hero’s profession - he, in spite of everything, is a creator, an architect.

"Human Life" is a vivid proof that Man is a man, not a puppet, not a miserable creature doomed to decay, but a wonderful phoenix that overcomes the "icy wind of boundless spaces". Wax melts, but life does not decrease.

A peculiar continuation of the play "The Life of a Man" is the play "Anatema". In this philosophical tragedy reappears Someone blocking the entrances - impassive and powerful guardian of the gates beyond which stretches the Beginning of the beginnings, the Great Mind. He is the guardian and servant of eternity-truth. He is opposed Anatema, the devil cursed for rebellious intentions to know the truth

Universe and equal with the Great Mind. The evil spirit, cowardly and vainly curling around the feet of the guardian, is a tragic figure in its own way. "Everything in the world wants good," the damned one thinks, "and does not know where to find it, everything in the world wants life - and meets only death ..." He comes to doubts about the existence of Mind in the Universe: is the name of this rationality a Lie? ? From despair and anger that it is not possible to know the truth on the other side of the gate, Anatema tries to know the truth on this side of the gate. He puts cruel experiments on the world and suffers from unjustified expectations.

The main part of the drama, which tells about the feat and death of David Leizer, "the beloved son of God", has an associative connection with the biblical legend of the humble Job, with the gospel story of the temptation of Christ in the wilderness. Anatema decided to test the truth of love and justice. He endows David with enormous wealth, pushes him to create a "miracle of love" for his neighbor, and contributes to the formation of David's magical power over people. But the diabolical millions are not enough for all those who suffer, and David, as a traitor and deceiver, is stoned to death by his beloved people. Love and justice turned into deception, good - evil. The experiment was set, but Anatema did not get a "clean" result. Before his death, David does not curse people, but regrets that he did not give them the last penny. The epilogue of the play repeats its prologue: the gate, the silent guardian Someone and the truth-seeker Anathema. With the circular composition of the play, the author speaks of life as an endless struggle of opposite principles. Soon after the writing of the play, staged by V.I. Nemirovich-Danchenko, it was a success at the Moscow Art Theater.

In the work of Andreev, artistic and philosophical beginnings merged together. His books feed an aesthetic need and awaken thought, disturb conscience, awaken sympathy for a person and fear for his human component. Andreev sets up a demanding approach to life. Critics have spoken of his "cosmic pessimism," but his tragedy is not directly related to pessimism. Probably, foreseeing a misunderstanding of his works, the writer has repeatedly argued that if a person cries, this does not mean that he is a pessimist and does not want to live, and vice versa, not everyone who laughs is an optimist and has fun. He belonged to the category of people with a heightened sense of death due to an equally heightened sense of life. People who knew him closely wrote about Andreev's passionate love for life.

Leonid Andreev

On December 11, 1900, Doctor of Medicine Anton Ignatievich Kerzhentsev committed a murder. Both the entire set of data in which the crime was committed, and some of the circumstances that preceded it, gave reason to suspect Kerzhentsev of an abnormality in his mental abilities.

Put on probation at the Elisavetinskaya psychiatric hospital, Kerzhentsev was subjected to strict and careful supervision by several experienced psychiatrists, among whom was Professor Drzhembitsky, who had recently died. Here are the written explanations that were given about what happened by Dr. Kerzhentsev himself a month after the start of the test; together with other materials obtained by the investigation, they formed the basis of the forensic examination.

Sheet one

Until now, Messrs. experts, I hid the truth, but now circumstances force me to reveal it. And, having recognized it, you will understand that the matter is not at all as simple as it may seem to the profane: either a fever shirt or shackles. There is a third thing here - not shackles and not a shirt, but, perhaps, more terrible than both combined.

Alexei Konstantinovich Savelov, whom I killed, was my friend at the gymnasium and the university, although we differed in specialties: as you know, I am a doctor, and he graduated from the law faculty. It cannot be said that I did not love the deceased; he was always sympathetic to me, and I have never had closer friends than he. But with all the sympathetic qualities, he did not belong to those people who can inspire respect in me. The amazing softness and suppleness of his nature, the strange inconsistency in the field of thought and feeling, the sharp extreme and groundlessness of his constantly changing judgments made me look at him like a child or a woman. People close to him, who often suffered from his antics and at the same time, due to the illogicality of human nature, loved him very much, tried to find an excuse for his shortcomings and their feelings and called him an "artist". And indeed, it turned out that this insignificant word completely justifies him and that which for any normal person would be bad, makes it indifferent and even good. Such was the power of the invented word that even I at one time succumbed to the general mood and willingly excused Alexei for his petty shortcomings. Small ones - because he was incapable of big things, like everything big. This is sufficiently evidenced by his literary works, in which everything is petty and insignificant, no matter what short-sighted criticism may say, greedy for the discovery of new talents. Beautiful and worthless were his works, beautiful and worthless was he himself.

When Alexei died, he was thirty-one years old, a little over a year younger than me.

Alexei was married. If you have seen his wife now, after his death, when she is in mourning, you cannot imagine how beautiful she once was: she has become so much, so much uglier. The cheeks are grey, and the skin on the face is so flabby, old, old, like a worn glove. And wrinkles. These are wrinkles now, and another year will pass - and these will be deep furrows and ditches: after all, she loved him so much! And her eyes no longer sparkle and laugh, and before they always laughed, even at the time when they needed to cry. I saw her for just one minute, accidentally bumping into her at the investigator's, and was amazed at the change. She couldn't even look at me angrily. So pathetic!

Only three - Alexei, me and Tatyana Nikolaevna - knew that five years ago, two years before Alexei's marriage, I made an offer to Tatyana Nikolaevna, and it was rejected. Of course, it is only assumed that there are three, and, probably, Tatyana Nikolaevna has a dozen more girlfriends and friends who are fully aware of how Dr. Kerzhentsev once dreamed of marriage and received a humiliating refusal. I don't know if she remembers that she laughed then; probably does not remember - she had to laugh so often. And then remind her: On the fifth of September she laughed. If she refuses - and she will refuse - then remind her how it was. I, this strong man who never cried, who was never afraid of anything - I stood before her and trembled. I was trembling and I saw her biting her lips, and I already reached out to hug her when she looked up and there was laughter in them. My hand remained in the air, she laughed, and laughed for a long time. As much as she wanted. But then she did apologize.

Excuse me, please,” she said, her eyes laughing.

And I smiled too, and if I could forgive her for her laughter, I would never forgive that smile of mine. It was the fifth of September, at six o'clock in the evening, St. Petersburg time. In St. Petersburg, I add, because we were then on the station platform, and now I can clearly see the big white dial and the position of the black hands: up and down. Alexei Konstantinovich was also killed at exactly six o'clock. The coincidence is strange, but able to reveal a lot to a quick-witted person.

One of the reasons for putting me here was the lack of a motive for the crime. Now you see that the motive existed. Of course, it wasn't jealousy. The latter presupposes in a person an ardent temperament and weakness of mental abilities, that is, something directly opposite to me, a cold and rational person. Revenge? Yes, rather revenge, if an old word is really needed to define a new and unfamiliar feeling. The fact is that Tatyana Nikolaevna once again made me make a mistake, and this always angered me. Knowing Alexei well, I was sure that in marriage with him Tatyana Nikolaevna would be very unhappy and regret me, and therefore I insisted so much that Alexei, then still just in love, should marry her. Just a month before his tragic death, he told me:

It is to you that I owe my happiness. Really, Tanya?

Yes, brother, you gave a blunder!

This inappropriate and tactless joke shortened his life by a whole week: initially I decided to kill him on the eighteenth of December.

Yes, their marriage turned out to be happy, and it was she who was happy. He did not love Tatyana Nikolaevna much, and in general he was not capable of deep love. He had his favorite thing - literature - which led his interests beyond the bedroom. And she loved him and lived only for him. Then he was an unhealthy person: frequent headaches, insomnia, and this, of course, tormented him. And she even looked after him, the sick, and fulfill his whims was happiness. After all, when a woman falls in love, she becomes insane.

And so, day after day, I saw her smiling face, her happy face, young, beautiful, carefree. And I thought: I did it. He wanted to give her a dissolute husband and deprive her of himself, but instead he gave her a husband whom she loves, and he himself remained with her. You will understand this strangeness: she is smarter than her husband and loved to talk with me, and after talking, she went to sleep with him - and was happy.

I don't remember when the idea first came to me to kill Alexei. Somehow imperceptibly she appeared, but from the first minute she became so old, as if I had been born with her. I know that I wanted to make Tatyana Nikolaevna unhappy, and that at first I came up with many other plans that were less disastrous for Alexei - I have always been an enemy of unnecessary cruelty. Using my influence with Alexei, I thought of making him fall in love with another woman or making him a drunkard (he had a propensity for this), but all these methods were not suitable. The fact is that Tatyana Nikolaevna would have managed to remain happy, even giving it to another woman, listening to his drunken chatter or accepting his drunken caresses. She needed this man to live, and she somehow served him. There are such slave natures. And, like slaves, they cannot understand and appreciate the power of others, not the power of their master. There were smart, good and talented women in the world, but the world has not yet seen and will not see a fair woman.

L. N. Andreev

Modern tragedy in three acts and six scenes

Leonid Andreev. Plays M., "Soviet Writer", 1981

CHARACTERS

Kerzhentsev Anton Ignatievich, Doctor of Medicine. Kraft, a pale young man. Savelov Alexei Konstantinovich, famous writer. Tatyana Nikolaevna, his wife. Sasha, the Savelovs' maid. Daria Vasilievna, housekeeper in the Kerzhentsev house. Vasily, Kerzhentsev's servant. Masha, a nurse in a hospital for the insane. Vasilyeva, nurse. Fedorovich, writer. Semenov Evgeny Ivanovich, psychiatrist, professor. Ivan Petrovich | Direct Sergey Sergeevich) doctors in the hospital. Third doctor. | Nurse. Hospital staff.

Dedicated to Anna Ilyinichna Andreeva

STEP ONE

PICTURE ONE

A rich cabinet-library of Dr. Kerzhentsev. Evening. The electricity is on. The light is soft. In the corner is a cage with a large orangutan, which is now sleeping; only a red woolly lump is visible. The curtain, which usually pulls the corner with the cage, is pulled back: Kerzhentsev and a very pale young man, whom the owner calls by his last name - Kraft, are examining the sleeping man.

Kraft. He's sleeping. Kerzhentsev. Yes. So he sleeps all day now. This is the third orangutan to die of boredom in this cage. Call him by his name - Jaipur, he has a name. He is from India. My first orangutan, an African, was called Zuga, the second - in honor of my father - Ignatius. (Laughs.) Ignatius. Kraft. He is playing... Jaipur is playing? Kerzhentsev. Now it's not enough. Kraft. I think it's homesickness. Kerzhentsev. No Kraft. Travelers tell interesting things about gorillas, which they happened to observe in the natural conditions of their lives. It turns out that gorillas, like our poets, are prone to melancholy. Suddenly something happens, the hairy pessimist stops playing and dies of boredom. That's how he dies - not bad, Kraft? Kraft. It seems to me that tropical melancholy is even more terrible than ours. Kerzhentsev. Do you remember that they never laugh? Dogs laugh, but they don't. Kraft. Yes. Kerzhentsev. Have you seen in menageries how two monkeys, after playing, suddenly calm down and press against each other - what a sad, demanding and hopeless look they have? Kraft. Yes. But where does their longing come from? Kerzhentsev. Guess! But let's step back, let's not interfere with his sleep - from sleep he imperceptibly goes to death. (Pulls up the curtain.) And even now, when he sleeps for a long time, there are signs of rigor mortis in him. Sit down, Kraft.

Both sit down at the table.

Shall we play chess? Kraft. No, I don't feel like it today. Your Jaipur upset me. Poison him, Anton Ignatievich. Kerzhentsev. No need. He himself will die. And wine, Kraft?

Calling. Silence. Servant Vasily enters.

Vasily, tell the housekeeper to give me a bottle of Johannisberg. Two glasses.

Vasily leaves and soon returns with wine.

Put. Please drink Kraft. Kraft. What do you think, Anton Ignatievich? Kerzhentsev. About Jaipur? Kraft. Yes, about his longing. Kerzhentsev. I thought a lot, a lot... How do you find wine? Kraft. Good wine. Kerzhentsev (examines the glass to the light). Can you find out the year? Kraft. No, where to. I don't care about wine at all. Kerzhentsev. And that's a pity, Kraft, a pity. Wine must be loved and known as everything that you love. My Jaipur upset you - but probably he would not die of anguish if he knew how to drink wine. However, you have to drink wine for twenty thousand years to be able to do it. Kraft. Tell me about Jaipur. (He sits deep in an armchair and leans his head on his hand.) Kerzhentsev. There's been a disaster here, Kraft. Kraft. Yes? Kerzhentsev. Yes, it's kind of a disaster. Where does this melancholy in monkeys come from, this incomprehensible and terrible melancholy, from which they go crazy and die in despair? Kraft. Are they going crazy? Kerzhentsev. Probably. No one in the animal world, except for anthropoid apes, knows this melancholy... Kraft. Dogs often howl. Kerzhentsev. This is different, Kraft, this is fear of the unknown world, this is horror! Now look into his eyes when he yearns: they are almost our, human eyes. Look at his general humanness... my Jaipur often sat in thought, almost like you do now... and understand where this melancholy comes from? Yes, I sat for hours in front of the cage, I peered into his yearning eyes, I myself was looking for an answer in his tragic silence - and then it seemed to me one day: he yearns, he vaguely dreams of that time when he was also a man, a king, what something of the highest form. You see, Kraft: was! (Raises a finger.) Kraft. Let's say. Kerzhentsev. Let's say. But here I look further, Kraft, I look deeper into his anguish, I am no longer for hours, I sit for days in front of his silent eyes - and now I see: either he was already king, or ... listen, Kraft! or he could have become one, but something got in the way. He does not remember the past, no, he yearns and hopelessly dreams of the future that has been taken away from him. He is all striving for a higher form, he is all longing for a higher form, because in front of him... in front of him, Kraft, is a wall! Kraft. Yes, it's sadness. Kerzhentsev. It's longing, do you understand, Kraft? He walked, but some wall blocked his path. Do you understand? He was walking, but some catastrophe broke out over his head - and he stopped. Or maybe the catastrophe even threw him back - but he stopped. Wall, Craft, disaster! His brain stopped, Kraft, and everything stopped with him! All! Kraft. You return to your thought again. Kerzhentsev. Yes. There is something terrible in the past of my Jaipur, in the gloomy depths from which it came, but it cannot tell. He himself does not know! He only dies from unbearable anguish. Thought! - Yes, of course, the idea! (Gets up and walks around the office.) Yes. That thought, the power of which you and I know, Kraft, suddenly betrayed him, suddenly stopped and became. This is terrible! This is a terrible catastrophe, worse than the flood! And he covered himself with hair again, he got back on all fours, he stopped laughing - he must die of anguish. He is a dethroned king, Kraft! He is the ex-king of the earth! Only a few stones remained of his kingdoms, and where is the lord - where is the priest - where is the king? The king wanders through the forests and dies of longing. Not bad, Kraft?

Silence. Kraft in the same position, motionless. Kerzhentsev walks around the room.

When I examined the brain of the late Ignatius, not my father, but this... (Laughs.) This one was also Ignatius... Kraft. Why are you laughing a second time talking about your father? Kerzhentsev. Because I didn't respect him, Kraft.

Silence.

Kraft. What did you find when you opened the skull of Ignatius? Kerzhentsev. Yes, I didn't respect my father. Listen, Kraft, my Jaipur is about to die: would you like to explore its brain together? It will be interesting. (Sits down.) Kraft. Good. And when I die - will you look at my brain? Kerzhentsev. If you will bequeath it to me - with pleasure, that is, with readiness, I wanted to say. I don't like you lately, Kraft. You probably don't drink much wine. You start yearning like Jaipur. Drink. Kraft. Do not want. Are you always alone, Anton Ignatievich? Kerzhentsev (sharp). I don't need anyone. Kraft. For some reason it seems to me today that you are a very unhappy person, Anton Ignatievich!

Silence. Kraft sighs and shifts his posture.

Kerzhentsev. Look, Kraft, I didn't ask you to talk about my private life. You are pleasant to me, because you know how to think and you are concerned about the same questions as me, our conversations and classes are pleasant to me, but we are not friends, Kraft, I ask you to remember this! I don't have friends and I don't want them.

Silence. Kerzhentsev goes to the corner where the cage is, pulls back the curtain and listens: it's quiet there - and again returns to his place.

Asleep. However, I can tell you, Kraft, that I feel happy. Yes, happy! I have an idea, Kraft, I have - this is it! (He taps his forehead somewhat angrily.) I don't need anyone.

Silence. Kraft reluctantly drinks the wine.

Drink, drink. And you know, Kraft, you will soon hear about me ... yes, in a month, a month and a half. Kraft. Are you releasing a book? Kerzhentsev. book? No, what nonsense! I don't want to publish any book, I work for myself. I don't need people - I think this is the third time I've told you this, Kraft? Enough about people. No, it will be... some experience. Yes, an interesting experience! Kraft. Won't you tell me what's the matter? Kerzhentsev. No. I believe in your modesty, otherwise I would not have told you this either - but no. You will hear. I wanted to... it so happened to me... in a word, I want to know the strength of my thought, to measure its strength. You see, Kraft, you only recognize a horse when you ride it! (Laughs.) Kraft. This is dangerous?

Silence. Kerzhentsev considered.

Anton Ignatievich, is this experience of yours dangerous? I hear it from your laughter: you have a bad laugh. Kerzhentsev. Craft! .. Craft. I'm listening to. Kerzhentsev. Craft! Tell me, you are a serious young man: would you dare to pretend to be crazy for a month or two? Wait a minute: don't put on the mask of a cheap malingerer -- do you understand, Kraft? - but to invoke the very spirit of madness with a spell. You see him: instead of a crown - straw in gray hair, and his mantle is torn to pieces - do you see, Kraft? Kraft. I see. No, I wouldn't. Anton Ignatievich, is this your experience? Kerzhentsev. May be. But let's leave it, Kraft, let's leave it. You are indeed a serious young man. Want more wine? Kraft. No thanks. Kerzhentsev. Dear Kraft, every time I see you, you are getting paler. You disappeared somewhere. Or are you unwell? What's wrong with you? Kraft. This is personal, Anton Ignatievich. I also don't want to talk about personal things. Kerzhentsev. You are right, sorry.

Silence.

Do you know Alexey Savelov? craft (indifferently). I am not familiar with all of his things, but I like him, he is talented. I haven't read his last story yet, but they are praising... Kerzhentsev. Nonsense! Kraft. I heard that he is... your friend? Kerzhentsev. Nonsense! But let a friend, let a friend. No, what are you talking about, Kraft: Savelov is talented! Talents must be kept, talents must be cherished like the apple of an eye, and if he were talented! .. Kraft. So what? Kerzhentsev. Nothing! He is not a diamond -- he is only diamond dust. He is a lapidary in literature! A genius and great talent always have sharp corners, and Savelov's diamond dust is needed only for faceting: others shine while he works. But ... let's leave all the Savelovs alone, it's not interesting. Kraft. Me too.

Silence.

Anton Ignatievich, can't you wake up your Jaipur? I would like to look at him, in his eyes. Wake up. Kerzhentsev. Do you want Kraft? Okay, I'll wake him up... unless he's already dead. Let's go.

Both approach the cage. Kerzhentsev draws back the curtain.

Kraft. He's sleeping? Kerzhentsev. Yes, he breathes. I'm waking him up, Kraft!..

Curtain

PICTURE TWO

The office of the writer Alexei Konstantinovich Savelov. Evening. Silence. Savelov writes at his desk; aside, at a small table, Savelov's wife, Tatyana Nikolaevna, is writing business letters.

Savelov (suddenly). Tanya, are the children sleeping? Tatyana Nikolaevna. Children? Savelov. Yes. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Kids are sleeping. They were already in bed when I left the nursery. And what? Savelov. So. Don't interfere.

Silence again. Both write. Savelov frowns gloomily, puts down his pen and walks twice around the office. Looks over Tatyana Nikolaevna's shoulder at her work.

What are you doing? Tatyana Nikolaevna. I'm writing letters about that manuscript, I must answer, Alyosha, it's embarrassing. Savelov. Tanya, go play for me. I need. Now don't say anything - I need it. Go. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Good. What to play? Savelov. Don't know. Choose yourself. Go. Tatyana Nikolaevna goes into the next room, leaving the door open. There is a flash of light. Tatyana Nikolaevna plays the piano. (Walks across the room, sits down and listens. Smokes. Puts down a cigarette, goes to the door and shouts from a distance.) Enough, Tanya. No need. Go here! Tanya, are you listening?

Silently paces. Tatyana Nikolaevna enters and looks attentively at her husband.

Tatyana Nikolaevna. What are you, Alyosha, are you not working again? Savelov. Again. Tatyana Nikolaevna. From what? Savelov. Don't know. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Are you tired? Savelov. No.

Silence.

Tatyana Nikolaevna. May I continue the letters or leave them? Savelov. No, leave! Better talk to me... but maybe you don't feel like talking to me? Tatyana Nikolaevna (smiles). Well, what nonsense, Alyosha, shame on you... funny! Let it stay, I'll add later, it doesn't matter. (Picks up letters.) Savelov (walks). I don't write at all today. And yesterday too. You see, I'm not that tired, what the hell! - but want something else. Something else. Something completely different! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Let's go to the theatre. Savelov (stopping). In which? No, well, to hell with it. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Yes, it's probably too late. Savelov. Well, to hell with it! I have no desire to go to the theatre. It's a pity that the children are sleeping ... no, however, I don't want children either. And I don't want music - it only draws my soul, it makes it even worse. What do I want, Tanya? Tatyana Nikolaevna. I don't know, dove. Savelov. And I don't know. No, I guess what I want. Sit down and listen, okay? I don't have to write, do you understand, Tankhen? - but to do something yourself, move, wave your arms, perform some actions. Act! In the end, it's simply unbearable: to be just a mirror, hanging on the wall of your office and only reflecting ... Wait a minute: it would not be bad to write a sad, very sad fairy tale about a mirror that for a hundred years reflected murderers, beauties, kings, freaks - - and so longed for a real life that it fell off the hook and ... Tatyana Nikolaevna. So what? Savelov. Well, it crashed, of course, what else? No, I'm tired, again fiction, fiction, fee. Our famous Savelov wrote ... to hell with it! Tatyana Nikolaevna. But I'll still write the topic. Savelov. Record if you want. No, just think, Tanhyung: in six years, I have never cheated on you! Never! Tatyana Nikolaevna. And Nadenka Skvortsova? Savelov. Leave! No, I'm serious, Tanya: it's impossible, I'm starting to hate myself. A thrice-cursed mirror that hangs motionless and can only reflect what it wants to reflect itself and passes by. Amazing things can happen behind the back of the mirror, and at the same time it reflects some idiot, a blockhead who wants to straighten his tie! Tatyana Nikolaevna. This is not true, Alyosha. Savelov. You absolutely do not understand anything, Tatyana! I hate myself - you understand that? Not? I hate that little world that lives in me, right here in my head - the world of my images, my experience, my feelings. To hell! I'm sick of what's in front of my eyes, I want what's behind me... what's there? A whole huge world lives somewhere behind my back - and I feel how beautiful it is, but I can’t turn my head. I can not! To hell. Soon I will stop writing! Tatyana Nikolaevna. It will pass, Alyosha. Savelov. And it will be a pity if it passes. Oh, my God, if only someone would come in and tell - tell about that life! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Can I call someone... Alyosha, do you want me to call Fedorovich? Savelov. Fedorovich? To talk about literature all evening again? To hell! Tatyana Nikolaevna. But who? I don't know who to call, who would suit your mood. Sigismund? Savelov. Not! And I don't know anyone who would fit. Who?

Both think.

Tatyana Nikolaevna. And if Kerzhentsev? Savelov. Anton? Tatyana Nikolaevna. Yes, Anton Ignatievich. If you call, he will come now, in the evenings he is always at home. If you don't feel like talking, then play chess with him. Savelov (stops and looks angrily at his wife). I won’t play chess with Kerzhentsev, how can you not understand this? Last time he stabbed me to death in three moves... what would be interesting for me to play with such... Chigorin! And I still understand that this is just a game, and he is serious, like an idol, and when I lose, he considers me a donkey. No, no need for Kerzhentsev! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Well, you'll talk, you're friends with him. Savelov. Talk to him yourself, you like to talk to him, but I don't want to. Firstly, only I will speak, and he will be silent. You never know people are silent, but he is terribly disgustingly silent! And then, he just bored me with his dead monkeys, his divine thought - and lackey Vaska, at whom he shouts like a bourgeois. Experimenter! A man has such a magnificent forehead, behind which a monument can be erected for one - and what did he do? Nothing. Even if he hit the nuts with his forehead - still work. Phew, tired of running! (Sits down.) Tatyana Nikolaevna. Yes... Alyosha, I don't like one thing: something gloomy appeared in his eyes. Apparently, he is really sick: this is his psychosis, which Karasev spoke about ... Savelov. Leave! I do not believe in his psychosis. He pretends to break the fool. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Well, you're too much, Alyosha. Savelov. No, not too much. I, my dear, know Anton from the gymnasium, for two years we were best friends with him - and this is the most absurd person! And I don't believe in anything. No, I don't want to talk about it. Tired! Tanechka, I'm going somewhere. Tatyana Nikolaevna. With me? Savelov. No, I want one. Tanechka, can I? Tatyana Nikolaevna. Go, of course. But just where are you going - to someone? Savelov. Maybe I'll go to someone ... No, I really want to roam the streets, among the people. Knock your elbows, see how they laugh, how they bare their teeth ... Last time someone was beaten on the boulevard, and I, honestly, Tanechka, watched the scandal with pleasure. Maybe I'll go to a restaurant. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Oh, Alyosha, dear, I'm afraid of this, don't, dear. You'll drink too much again and you'll be unwell - don't! Savelov. No, what are you, Tanya! Yes, I forgot to tell you: I followed the general today. They were burying some general, and military music was playing - you understand? This is not a Romanian violin, which exhausts the soul: here you go firmly, in step - you can feel it. I love wind instruments. In copper pipes, when they cry and scream, in drumming with its cruel, hard, distinct rhythm... What do you think?

The maid Sasha entered.

Tatyana Nikolaevna. Why don't you knock, Sasha? You to me? Sasha. No. Anton Ignatich came and asked if it was possible to visit you or not. They've already split up. Savelov. Well, of course, call. Tell him to come straight here.

The maid exits.

Tatyana Nikolaevna (smiles). Easy to remember. Savelov. Oh, damn it! .. He will detain me, by God! Tanechka, please stay with Kerzhentsev, and I'll go, I can't! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Yes, of course, go! After all, he is his own person, what embarrassment can be here ... Dear, you are completely upset! Savelov. Oh well! Now a person will enter, and you kiss. Tatyana Nikolaevna. I'll make it! Enter Kerzhentsev. Hello. Tatyana Nikolaevna, the guest kisses her hand. Savelov. What fate are you, Antosha? And I, brother, I'm leaving. Kerzhentsev. Well, go ahead and I'll go out with you. Are you also going, Tatyana Nikolaevna? Savelov. No, she will stay, sit down. What did Karasev say about you: are you not quite healthy? Kerzhentsev. Trivia. Some weakening of memory, probably an accident, overwork. That's what the psychiatrist said. What are they already saying? Savelov. They say, brother, they say! What are you smiling at? I'm telling you, Tanya, that this is some kind of thing... I don't believe you, Antosha! Kerzhentsev. Why don't you believe me, Alexei? Savelov (sharp). In everything.

Silence. Savelov walks angrily.

Tatyana Nikolaevna. And how is your Jaipur, Anton Ignatievich? Kerzhentsev. He died. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Yes? What a pity.

Savelov snorts contemptuously.

Kerzhentsev. Yes, he died. Yesterday. You, Alexey, go better, otherwise you are already starting to hate me. I do not hold you. Savelov. Yes, I will go. You, Antosha, don't be angry, I'm angry today and throw myself at everyone like a dog. Do not be angry, my dear, she will tell you everything. Your Jaipur died, and I, brother, today buried the general: I marched three streets. Kerzhentsev. What general? Tatyana Nikolaevna. He jokes, he followed the music. Savelov (stuffing a cigarette case with cigarettes). Jokes are jokes, but you still don’t bother with the monkey, Anton, - someday you’ll seriously go crazy. You are an experimenter, Antosha, a cruel experimenter!

Kerzhentsev does not answer.

Kerzhentsev. Are the children healthy, Tatyana Nikolaevna? Tatyana Nikolaevna. Thank God, healthy. And what? Kerzhentsev. Scarlet fever walks, we must beware. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Oh my God! Savelov. Well, now it's gone! Goodbye, Antosha, don't be angry that I'm leaving... Maybe I'll catch you again. I'll be there soon, baby. Tatyana Nikolaevna. I'll see you off a bit, Alyosha, I have two words. I am now, Anton Ignatievich. Kerzhentsev. Please don't hesitate.

Savelov and his wife come out. Kerzhentsev paces around the room. He takes a heavy paperweight from Savelov's desk and weighs it on his hand: this is how Tatyana Nikolaevna finds him.

Tatyana Nikolaevna. Gone. What are you watching, Anton Ignatievich? Kerzhentsev (calmly laying down the paperweight). A heavy thing, you can kill a person if you hit him on the head. Where did Alex go? Tatyana Nikolaevna. Yes, walk. He misses. Sit down, Anton Ignatievich, I am very glad that you finally stopped by. Kerzhentsev. Bored? Is it a long time ago? Tatyana Nikolaevna. It happens to him. Suddenly he quits his job and begins to look for some kind of real life. Now he has gone roaming the streets and will probably get involved in some kind of story. What makes me sad, Anton Ignatievich, is that apparently I am not giving him something, some necessary experiences, our life with him is too calm ... Kerzhentsev. And happy? Tatyana Nikolaevna. And what is happiness? Kerzhentsev. Yes, no one knows. Do you really like Alexei's latest story? Tatyana Nikolaevna. Highly. And you? Kerzhentsev is silent. I find that his talent is growing every day. This does not mean at all that I speak as his wife, I am generally quite impartial. But criticism also finds it ... and you?

Kerzhentsev is silent.

(Worried.) And you, Anton Ignatievich, have you carefully read the book, or have you just leafed through it? Kerzhentsev. Very carefully. Tatyana Nikolaevna. So what?

Kerzhentsev is silent. Tatyana Nikolaevna glances at him and silently begins clearing the papers off the table.

Kerzhentsev. You don't like that I'm silent? Tatyana Nikolaevna. I don't like anything else. Kerzhentsev. What? Tatyana Nikolaevna. Today you threw one very strange look at Alexei, at your husband. I don't like it, Anton Ignatich, that in six years... you couldn't forgive either me or Alexei. You have always been so reserved that it never crossed my mind, but today... However, let's leave this conversation, Anton Ignatich! Kerzhentsev (gets up and stands with his back to the stove. Looks down at Tatyana Nikolaevna). Why change, Tatyana Nikolaevna? He seems interesting to me. If today, for the first time in six years, I manifested something - although I don't know what - then today, for the first time, you are talking about the past. It is interesting. Yes, six years ago, or rather, seven and a half - the weakening of my memory did not affect these years - I offered you a hand and a heart, and you deigned to reject both. Do you remember that it was at the Nikolayevsky railway station and that the hand on the station clock showed exactly six at that minute: the disk was divided in half by one black line? Tatyana Nikolaevna. I don't remember it. Kerzhentsev. No, that's right, Tatyana Nikolaevna. And remember that you still took pity on me then? This you cannot forget. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Yes, I remember that, but what else could I do? There was nothing offensive to you in my pity, Anton Ignatich. And I just can't understand why we're saying this - what is this, an explanation? Fortunately, I am quite sure that not only do you not love me... Kerzhentsev. It's careless, Tatyana Nikolaevna! What if I say that I still love you, that I don’t get married, I lead such a strange closed life only because I love you? Tatyana Nikolaevna. You won't say it! Kerzhentsev. Yes, I won't say that. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Listen, Anton Ignatich: I really like talking to you... Kerzhentsev. Talk to me, and - sleep with Alexei? Tatyana Nikolaevna (gets up, indignantly). No, what's wrong with you? It's rude! It's impossible! I do not understand. And maybe you are really sick? That psychosis of yours that I heard about... Kerzhentsev. Well, let's say. Let it be the same psychosis that you have heard about - if it is impossible to say otherwise. But are you really afraid of words, Tatyana Nikolaevna? Tatyana Nikolaevna. I'm not afraid of anything, Anton Ignatich. (Sits down.) But I will have to tell Alexei everything. Kerzhentsev. Are you sure that you will be able to tell and he will be able to understand something? Tatyana Nikolaevna. Alexey will not be able to understand? No, are you kidding, Anton Ignatich? Kerzhentsev. Well, this can be allowed. Of course, Alexei told you that I... how should I put it... a big hoaxer? I love fun experiments. Once upon a time, in the days of my youth, of course, I purposely sought friendship from one of my comrades, and when he blurted out all, I left him with a smile. With a slight smile, however: I respect my loneliness too much to break it with laughter. And now I'm joking, and while you are worried, I may be looking at you calmly and with a smile ... with a slight smile, however. Tatyana Nikolaevna. But do you understand, Anton Ignatich, that I cannot allow myself to be treated like this? Bad jokes that no one wants to laugh at. Kerzhentsev (laughs). Is it? And I thought I was laughing. It is you who are serious, Tatyana Nikolaevna, not me. Laugh! Tatyana Nikolaevna (laughs violently). But maybe it's also just an experience? Kerzhentsev (Seriously). You are right: I wanted to hear your laughter. The first thing I fell in love with you was your laughter. Tatyana Nikolaevna. I won't laugh anymore.

Silence.

Kerzhentsev (smiles). You are very unfair today, Tatyana Nikolaevna, yes: you give everything to Alexei, but you would like to take away the last crumbs from me. Just because I love your laughter and find in it that beauty that others may not see, you no longer want to laugh! Tatyana Nikolaevna. All women are unfair. Kerzhentsev. Why so bad about women? And if I'm joking today, then you're joking even more: you pretend to be a little cowardly philistine who, with rage and ... despair, protects her little nest, her poultry house. Do I really look like a kite? Tatyana Nikolaevna. It's hard to argue with you... talk. Kerzhentsev. But it's true, Tatyana Nikolaevna! You are smarter than your husband, and my friend, I am also smarter than him, and that's why you always loved talking to me so much ... Your anger even now is not without some pleasantness. Let me be in a strange mood. Today I have delved too long into the brain of my Jaipur - he died of anguish - and I have a strange, very strange and ... playful mood! Tatyana Nikolaevna. I noticed it, Anton Ignatievich. No, seriously, I am sincerely sorry for your Jaipur: he had such a... (smiles) intelligent face. But what do you want? Kerzhentsev. compose. Dream up. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Lord, what we women are, unfortunate, eternal victims of your ingenious whims: Alexei ran away so as not to compose, and I had to invent consolations for him, and you ... (Laughs.) Compose! Kerzhentsev. Here you are laughing. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Yes, God is with you. Compose, but please, not about love! Kerzhentsev. Otherwise it is impossible. My story begins with love. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Well, whatever you want. Wait, I'll sit back. (Sits down on the sofa with her legs up and straightens her skirt.) Now I'm listening. Kerzhentsev. So, let's say, Tatyana Nikolaevna, that I, Dr. Kerzhentsev ... as an inexperienced writer, I will be in the first person, can I? .. - so, let's say that I love you - can I? - and that I became unbearably annoyed, looking at you with the talented Alexei. My life has fallen apart thanks to you, and you are unbearably happy, you are magnificent, criticism itself approves of you, you are young and beautiful ... by the way, you are combing your hair very beautifully now, Tatyana Nikolaevna! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Yes? This is how Alexey likes it. I'm listening to. Kerzhentsev. You listen? Wonderful. So... do you know what loneliness is with his thoughts? Let's assume you know this. So, one day, sitting alone at his desk... Tatyana Nikolaevna. You have a magnificent table, I dream of this for Alyosha. Excuse me... Kerzhentsev. ... and getting more and more annoyed - thinking about many things - I decided to commit a terrible villainy: to come to your house, it's so easy to come to your house and ... kill the talented Alexei! Tatyana Nikolaevna. What? What are you talking about! Shame on you! Kerzhentsev. Those are the words! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Bad words! Kerzhentsev. You are scared? Tatyana Nikolaevna. Are you afraid again? No, I'm not afraid of anything, Anton Ignatich. But I demand, that is, I want, that... the story be within the limits of... artistic truth. (Gets up and walks.) I'm spoiled, my dear, with talented stories, and a tabloid romance with its terrible villains ... don't you get angry? Kerzhentsev. First experience! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Yes, the first experience, and it shows. How do you, your hero wants to carry out his terrible plan? After all, of course, he is a smart villain who loves himself, and he does not want to change his ... comfortable life for hard labor and shackles? Kerzhentsev. Undoubtedly! And I... that is, my hero pretends to be crazy for this purpose. Tatyana Nikolaevna. What? Kerzhentsev. You do not understand? He will kill, and then he will recover and return to his ... comfortable life. How are you, dear critic? Tatyana Nikolaevna. How? Bad to the point that ... ashamed! He wants to kill, he pretends, and he tells - and to whom? Wife! Bad, unnatural, Anton Ignatitch! Kerzhentsev. What about the game? My excellent critic, and the game? Or do you not see what crazy treasures of a crazy game are hidden here: to tell my wife herself that I want to kill her husband, look into her eyes, smile quietly and say: I want to kill your husband! And by saying this, to know that she would not believe... or would she believe? And that when she starts telling others about it, no one will believe her either! Will she cry... or won't she? - but they won't believe her! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Will they believe? Kerzhentsev. What are you: after all, only crazy people tell such things ... and listen! But what a game - no, think seriously, what a frenzied, sharp, divine game! Of course, this is dangerous for a weak head, you can easily cross the line and never go back, but for a strong and free mind? Listen, why write stories when you can do them! BUT? Is not it? Why write? What scope for creative, fearless, truly creative thought! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Is your hero a doctor? Kerzhentsev. The hero is me. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Well, anyway, you. He can imperceptibly poison or instill some disease ... Why does he not want to? Kerzhentsev. But if I poison you unnoticed, how will you know that I did it? Tatyana Nikolaevna. But why should I know this?

Kerzhentsev is silent.

(Lightly stamps his foot.) Why should I know? What are you talking about!

Kerzhentsev is silent. Tatyana Nikolaevna moves away, rubbing her temples with her fingers.

Kerzhentsev. Are you unwell? Tatyana Nikolaevna. Yes. No. The head is something... What were we talking about? How strange: what are we talking about now? How strange, I do not quite clearly remember what we were talking about. About what?

Kerzhentsev is silent.

Anton Ignatich! Kerzhentsev. What? Tatyana Nikolaevna. How did we get there? Kerzhentsev. For what? Tatyana Nikolaevna. I dont know. Anton Ignatich, my dear, don't! I'm really a little scared. No need to joke! You're so cute when you talk to me seriously... and you've never joked like that! Why now? Have you stopped respecting me? No need! And don't think that I'm so happy... what's there! It's very difficult for me and Alexey, it's true. And he himself is not so happy, I know! Kerzhentsev. Tatyana Nikolaevna, today for the first time in six years we are talking about the past, and I don’t know ... You told Alexei that six years ago I offered you a hand and a heart and you deigned to refuse - from both? Tatyana Nikolaevna (embarrassed). My dear, but how could I... not tell you when... Kerzhentsev. And he also took pity on me? Tatyana Nikolaevna. But do you really not believe in his nobility, Anton Ignatitch? Kerzhentsev. I loved you very much, Tatyana Nikolaevna. Tatyana Nikolaevna (begging). No need! Kerzhentsev. Good. Tatyana Nikolaevna. After all, you are strong! You have a great will, Anton Ignatich, if you want, you can do anything... Well... forgive us, forgive me! Kerzhentsev. Will? Yes. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Why do you look like that - you don't want to forgive? You can not? My God, how it is... terrible! And who is to blame, and what kind of life is this, Lord! (Quietly crying.) And everyone should be afraid, then children, then ... Forgive me!

Silence. Kerzhentsev seems to be looking at Tatyana Nikolaevna from a distance—suddenly he brightens up, changes his mask.

Kerzhentsev. Tatyana Nikolaevna, my dear, stop it, what are you doing! I was joking. Tatyana Nikolaevna (sighing and wiping tears). You won't be anymore. No need. Kerzhentsev. Oh sure! You see, my Jaipur died today... and I... well, I was upset, or something. Look at me: you see, I'm already smiling. Tatyana Nikolaevna (looking and also smiling). What are you, Anton Ignatich! Kerzhentsev. I'm an eccentric, well, an eccentric - you never know eccentrics, and what other ones! My dear, you and I are old friends, we ate a lot of one salt, I love you, I love dear, noble Alexei - let me always speak frankly about his works ... Tatyana Nikolaevna. Of course, this is debatable! Kerzhentsev. Well, that's great. What about your lovely kids? It is probably a feeling common to all stubborn bachelors, but I consider your children almost like my own. Your Igor is my godson... Tatyana Nikolaevna. You are dear, Anton Ignatich, you are dear! -- Who is it?

Knocking, the maid Sasha enters.

What do you think, Sasha, how you frightened me, my God! Children? Sasha. No, the kids are sleeping. The master asks you to phone, they just called, sir. Tatyana Nikolaevna. What? What about him? Sasha. Nothing, by God. They are cheerful, joking. Tatyana Nikolaevna. I'm now, sorry, Anton Ignatich. (From the door, affectionately.) Cute!

Both come out. Kerzhentsev walks around the room - stern, preoccupied. He picks up the paperweight again, examines its sharp corners, and weighs it in his hand. At the entrance of Tatyana Nikolaevna, she quickly puts him in his place and makes a pleasant face.

Anton Ignatich, let's go soon! Kerzhentsev. What's wrong, dear? Tatyana Nikolaevna. There is nothing. Cute! Yes, I don't know. Alexei calls from the restaurant, someone has gathered there, asking us to come. Fun. Let's go! I'm not going to change - let's go, dear. (Stops.) How obedient you are: he goes to himself and does not even ask where. Cute! Yes... Anton Ignatich, when did you visit a psychiatrist? Kerzhentsev. Five or six days. I visited Semyonov, my dear, he is my acquaintance. Knowledgeable person. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Ah! .. It is very famous, it seems to be good. What did he tell you? Don't be offended, dear, but you know how I... Kerzhentsev. What are you, dear! Semyonov said that it was nothing, overwork was nothing. We talked to him for a long time, good old man. And such mischievous eyes! Tatyana Nikolaevna. But is there fatigue? You, my poor fellow, are overtired. (Strokes him on the arm.) No need, dear, rest, heal ...

Kerzhentsev silently leans over and kisses her hand. She looks at his head with fear from above.

Anton Ignatich! You will not argue with Alexei today?

Curtain

ACT TWO

PICTURE THREE

Savelov's office. Six o'clock in the evening, before dinner. There are three people in the office: Savelov, his wife, and a guest invited to dinner, the writer Fedorovich.

Tatyana Nikolaevna sits on the end of the sofa and looks imploringly at her husband; Fyodorovich leisurely, with his hands behind his back, paces around the room; Savelov sits in his place at the table, now leaning back in his chair, now lowering his head over the table, angrily chopping and breaking a pencil and matches with a cutting knife.

Savelov. To hell, finally, Kerzhentsev! Understand, both of you, and you understand this, Fedorovich, that Kerzhentsev has bothered me like a bitter radish! Well, let him be sick, well, let him go crazy, well, let him be dangerous - after all, I can’t think only about Kerzhentsev. To hell! Listen, Fedorovich, were you at yesterday's lecture at the literary society? What interesting things were said there? Fedorovich. There is little interesting. So, more bickering and cursing, I left early. Savelov. Was I scolded? Fedorovich. Scolded, brother, and you. They scold everyone there. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Well, listen, Alyosha, listen, don't get irritated: Alexander Nikolaevich just wants to warn you about Kerzhentsev... No, no, wait, you can't be so stubborn. Well, if you don't believe me and think that I'm exaggerating, then believe Alexander Nikolayevich, he is an outsider: Alexander Nikolayevich, tell me, were you at this dinner yourself and saw everything yourself? Fedorovich. Myself. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Well, what do you say! Fedorovich. Well, there is no doubt that it was a fit of uniform rabies. It was enough to look at his eyes, at his face - a uniform frenzy! You can't make foam on your lips. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Well? Fedorovich. Your Kerzhentsev, in general, never made me the impression of a meek person, a sort of filthy idol with twisted legs, and then everyone became terrified. There were ten of us at the table, so everyone scattered in all directions. Yes, brother, but Pyotr Petrovich was bursting: with his thickness, such a test! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Don't you believe, Alex? Savelov. What would you like me to believe? Those are strange people! Did he beat anyone? Fedorovich. No, he did not beat anyone, although he attempted to kill Pyotr Petrovich ... And he beat the dishes, it's true, and broke the flowers, the palm tree. Why, of course, dangerous, who can vouch for such a thing? We are an indecisive people, we all try to be delicate, but positively we should inform the police, let him sit in the hospital until he leaves. Tatyana Nikolaevna. It is necessary to inform, so it cannot be left. God knows what! Everyone is watching, and no one... Savelov. Leave it, Tanya! It was just necessary to tie him up, and nothing else, and a bucket of cold water on his head. If you like, I believe in the madness of Kerzhentsev, why, anything can happen, but I definitely don’t understand your fears. Why would he want to harm me in any way? Nonsense! Tatyana Nikolaevna. But I told you, Alyosha, what he told me that evening. He scared me so much that I was not myself. I almost cried! Savelov. Sorry, Tanechka: you really told me, but I didn’t understand anything, my dear, from your story. Some kind of absurd chatter on too sensitive topics, which, of course, should have been avoided ... Do you know, Fedorovich, did he once woo Tatyana? Why, love too!.. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Alyosha! Savelov. He can, he is his own person. Well, you know, something like a love burp - er, just a whim! Whim! Kerzhentsev has never loved anyone and cannot love. I know it. Enough about him, gentlemen. Fedorovich. Good. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Well, Alyosha, my dear, well, what is it worth doing - for me! Well, I may be stupid, but I'm terribly worried. You don’t have to accept him, that’s all, you can write a kind letter to him. After all, you can’t let such a dangerous person into the house - isn’t it, Alexander Nikolaevich? Fedorovich. Correctly! Savelov. Not! I'm even embarrassed to listen to you, Tanya. Indeed, only this is not enough for me, because of some whim ... well, not a whim, I'm sorry, I didn't put it that way, well, in general, because of some fears, I would refuse a person from home. It was not necessary to chat on such topics, but now there is nothing. Dangerous man... that's enough, Tanya! Tatyana Nikolaevna (sighing). Good. Savelov. And here's another thing, Tatyana: don't you dare write to him without my knowledge, I know you. Guessed? Tatyana Nikolaevna (dry). You guessed nothing, Alexei. Let's leave it better. When will you be in the Crimea, Alexander Nikolayevich? Fedorovich. Yes, I think this week to move. It's hard for me to get out. Savelov. No money, Fedorchuk? Fedorovich. Well no. Advance waiting, promised. Savelov. No one, brother, has any money. Fedorovich (stops in front of Savelov). And would you go with me, Alexei! All the same, you're not doing anything, and there you and I would have been great to salute, huh? You are spoiled, your wife spoils you, and there we would move on foot: the road, brother, white, sea, brother, blue, almond blossoms ... Savelov. I don't like Crimea. Tatyana Nikolaevna. He absolutely cannot stand the Crimea. But if it were so, Alyosha: I would stay in Yalta with the children, and you and Alexander Nikolaevich would go to the Caucasus. You love the Caucasus. Savelov. Why would I go at all? I'm not going anywhere at all, I have work up to my neck here! Fedorovich. Good for children. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Of course! Savelov (irritated). Well, go with the kids if you want. After all, by God, this is impossible! Well, go with the kids, and I'll stay here. Crimea... Fedorovich, do you like cypresses? And I hate them. They stand like exclamation marks, for the hell of it, but there's no point ... just like a manuscript of a lady writer about some kind of "mysterious" Boris! Fedorovich. No, brother, ladies writers love ellipsis more...

The maid enters.

Sasha. Anton Ignatievich came and asked, can I come to you?

Some silence.

Tatyana Nikolaevna. Well, Alyosha! Savelov. Of course, ask! Sasha, ask Anton Ignatich here, tell him that we are in the office. Give me some tea.

The maid exits. There is silence in the office. Kerzhentsev enters with some large paper bundle in his hands. The face is dark. Hello.

Ah, Antosha! Hello. What are you doing wrong? Everyone tells me. Heal yourself, brother, you need to seriously heal, so you can’t leave this. Kerzhentsev (quiet). Yes, it looks like he got a little sick. Tomorrow I think to go to a sanatorium, to rest. Need to rest. Savelov. Rest, rest, of course. You see, Tanya, a man knows what he has to do even without you. It's like that, brother, these two were boning you... Tatyana Nikolaevna (reproachfully). Alyosha! Would you like some tea, Anton Ignatitch? Kerzhentsev. With pleasure, Tatyana Nikolaevna. Savelov. You are so quiet. you say Anton? (Grumbling.)"Alyosha, Alyosha..." I don't know how to be silent in your opinion... Sit down, Anton, why are you standing there? Kerzhentsev. Here, Tatyana Nikolaevna, take it, please. 486 Tatyana Nikolaevna (receives the package). What's this? Kerzhentsev. Igor toys. I promised a long time ago, but somehow there was no time, but today I finished all my business in the city and now, fortunately, I remembered. I'm sorry to you. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Thank you, Anton Ignatich, Igor will be very happy. I'll call him here, let him get it from you. Savelov. No, Tanechka, I don't want noise. Igor will come, then Tanka will drag along, and such a Persian revolution will begin here: either they impale them, or they shout "hurray"! .. What? Horse? Kerzhentsev. Yes. I came to the store and was confused, I just can’t guess what he would like. Fedorovich. My Petka is now demanding a car, he does not want a horse.

Tatyana Nikolaevna calls.

Savelov. Of course! They also grow. Soon they will get to the airplanes ... What do you think, Sasha? Sasha. They called me. Tatyana Nikolaevna. It's me, Alyosha. Here, Sasha, please take it to the nursery and give it to Igor, tell him, his uncle brought it to him. Savelov. Why don't you go yourself, Tanya? Better take it yourself. Tatyana Nikolaevna. I don't want to, Alyosha. Savelov. Tanya!

Tatyana Nikolaevna takes the toy and silently leaves. Fedorovich whistles and looks at the walls already seen pictures.

Ridiculous woman! She's afraid of you, Anton! Kerzhentsev (surprised). Me? Savelov. Yes. A woman imagined something, and now, like you, she goes crazy. Considers you a dangerous person. Fedorovich (interrupting). Whose card is this, Alexey? Savelov. Actresses one. What did you say to her here, Antosha? In vain, my dear, you touch on such topics. I am convinced that for you it was a joke, and my Tanya is bad about jokes, you know her as well as I do. Fedorovich (again). And who is this actress? Savelov. Yes, you don't know her! Well, Anton, you shouldn't have. You are smiling? Or serious?

Kerzhentsev is silent. Fedorovich looks askance at him. Savelov frowns.

Well, of course, jokes. But still, stop joking, Anton! I know you from the gymnasium, and there was always something unpleasant in your jokes. When they joke, brother, they smile, and you are just trying to make such a face at this time that your hamstrings will shake. Experimenter! Well, what, Tanya? Tatyana Nikolaevna (included). Well, of course, I'm glad. What are you so hot about here? Savelov (walks around the office, throws it dismissively and rather abruptly on the go). About jokes. I advised Anton not to joke, because not everyone finds his jokes equally... successful. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Yes? And what about tea, dear Anton Ignatich, - you haven't been served yet! (Calling.) Sorry, I didn't notice! Kerzhentsev. I'd like a glass of white wine if that doesn't disturb your order. Savelov. Well, what kind of order do we have! .. (To the maid who enters.) Sasha, give me wine and two glasses here: will you be wine, Fyodorovich? Fedorovich. I'll drink a glass, won't you? Savelov. Do not want. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Give me some white wine, Sasha, and two glasses.

The maid comes out, soon returns with wine. An awkward silence. Savelov restrains himself so as not to show hostility to Kerzhentsev, but every minute it becomes more difficult.

Savelov. What sanatorium do you want, Anton? Kerzhentsev. Semyonov advised me. There is a wonderful place along the Finnish road, I have already signed off. There are few sick people, or rather, vacationers there - forest and silence. Savelov. Ah!.. Forest and silence. Why don't you drink wine? Drink. Fedorovich, pour it. (Mockingly.) And why did you need the forest and silence? Tatyana Nikolaevna. For relaxation, of course, what are you asking about, Alyosha? Is it true, Alexander Nikolaevich, that today our Alyosha is some kind of stupid? You are not angry with me, famous writer? Savelov. Don't talk, Tanya, it's unpleasant. Yes, of course, for relaxation ... Here, Fedorovich, pay attention to a person: a simple sense of nature, the ability to enjoy the sun and water, is completely alien to him. Really, Anton?

Kerzhentsev is silent.

(Irritated.) No, and at the same time he thinks that he has gone ahead—do you understand, Fyodorovich? And you and I, who can still enjoy the sun and water, seem to him something atavistic, deadly backward. Anton, don't you think that Fedorovich is very similar to your late orangutan? Fedorovich. Well, that's partly true, Alex. That is, not that I look like ... Savelov. Not true, but simply absurdity, a kind of narrow-mindedness ... What do you think, Tanya? What are these other signs? Tatyana Nikolaevna. Nothing. Do you want wine? Listen, Anton Ignatich, today we are going to the theatre, would you like to come with us? We have a lodge. Kerzhentsev. With pleasure, Tatyana Nikolaevna, although I am not particularly fond of the theatre. But today I will go with pleasure. Savelov. Don't you love? Weird! Why don't you love him? This is something new in you, Anton, you continue to develop. You know, Fedorovich, once upon a time Kerzhentsev wanted to become an actor himself - and, in my opinion, he would be a wonderful actor! It has such properties ... and in general ... Kerzhentsev. My personal properties have nothing to do with it, Alexey. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Of course! Kerzhentsev. I don't like the theater because they don't represent well. For a real game, which, after all, is only a complex system of pretense, the theater is too small. Isn't that right, Alexander Nikolaevich? Fedorovich. I don't quite understand you, Anton Ignatich. Savelov. What is a real game? Kerzhentsev. True artistic play can only be in life. Savelov. And that's why you didn't go into acting, but remained a doctor. Do you understand, Fedorovich? Fedorovich. You're nitpicking, Alexei! As far as I understand... Tatyana Nikolaevna. Well, of course, he shamelessly finds fault. Leave him, dear Anton Ignatich, let's go to the nursery. Igor certainly wants to kiss you... kiss him, Anton Ignatitch! Kerzhentsev. The children's noise is now somewhat difficult for me, excuse me, Tatyana Nikolaevna. Savelov. Of course, let him sit. Sit down Anton. Kerzhentsev. And I'm not at all ... offended by Alexei's vehemence. He was always hot, even in the gymnasium. Savelov. Completely over-indulgent. And I'm not at all excited... Why don't you drink wine, Anton? Drink, the wine is good... But I was always surprised by your detachment from life. Life flows past you, and you sit as if in a fortress, you are proud in your mysterious loneliness, like a baron! Time has passed for the barons, brother, their strongholds have been destroyed. Fedorovich, do you know that our baron's only ally, the orangutan, has recently died? Tatyana Nikolaevna. Alyosha, again! It's impossible! Kerzhentsev. Yes, I'm sitting in a fortress. Yes. In the fortress! Savelov (sitting down.) Yes? Say please! Listen, Fedorovich, this is the baron's confession! Kerzhentsev. Yes. And my fortress is this: my head. Don't laugh, Alexey, I don't think you've quite grown up to this idea yet... Savelov. Not grown up?.. Kerzhentsev. Sorry, I didn't express myself that way. But only here, in my head, behind these skull walls, I can be completely free. And I'm free! Alone and free! Yes!

He gets up and begins to walk along the line of the office, along which Savelov had just walked.

Savelov. Fedorovich, give me your glass. Thank you. What is your freedom, my lonely friend? Kerzhentsev. And in that ... And in that, my friend, that I stand above that life in which you scurry and crawl! And the fact, my friend, is that instead of the miserable passions to which you submit like serfs, I have chosen royal human thought as my friend! Yes, baron! Yes, I am impregnable in my castle - and there is no force that would not break against these walls! Savelov. Yes, your forehead is gorgeous, but aren't you relying too much on it? Your overwork... Tatyana Nikolaevna. Lord, leave, hunting you! Alyosha! Kerzhentsev (laughs). My fatigue? No, I'm not afraid ... my overwork. My thought is obedient to me, like a sword, the edge of which is directed by my will. Or do you, blind, do not see its brilliance? Or are you, blind, unaware of this delight: to enclose here, in your head, the whole world, to dispose of it, to reign, to flood everything with the light of divine thought! What do I care about cars that rumble somewhere there? Here, in the great and austere silence, my thought works - and its power is equal to the power of all the machines in the world! You often laughed at my love for the book, Alexey - do you know that someday a person will become a deity, and we will be a footstool for him - a book! Thought! Savelov. No, I don't know that. And your book fetishism just strikes me as... funny and... unintelligent. Yes! There is still life!

He also gets up and walks excitedly, at times almost colliding with Kerzhentsev; there is something terrible in their excitement, in the way they stop face to face for a moment. Tatyana Nikolaevna whispers something to Fyodorovich, who shrugs helplessly and soothingly.

Kerzhentsev. Is that what you say, writer? Savelov. And I say this, the writer. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Lord! Kerzhentsev. You are a pitiful writer, Savelov. Savelov. May be. Kerzhentsev. You have published five books - how dare you do it if you talk about a book like that? This is blasphemy! You dare not write, you must not! Savelov. Won't you forbid me?

Both stop for a moment at the desk. Away, Tatyana Nikolaevna anxiously pulls Fedorovich by the sleeve, he whispers soothingly to her: "Nothing! Nothing!"

Kerzhentsev. Alexei! Savelov. What? Kerzhentsev. You're worse than my orangutan! He managed to die of boredom! Savelov. Did he die himself or did you kill him? An experience?

They walk again, colliding. Kerzhentsev alone laughs loudly at something. His eyes are terrible.

Are you laughing? Do you despise? Kerzhentsev (he gesticulates strongly, he speaks exactly with someone else). He doesn't believe in thought! He dares not to believe in a thought! He does not know that thought can do anything! He doesn't know that thought can drill into stone, burn houses, that thought can... - Alexei! Savelov. Your overwork!.. Yes, to a sanatorium, to a sanatorium! Kerzhentsev. Alexei! Savelov. What?

Both stop near the table, Kerzhentsev facing the viewer. His eyes are terrible, he inspires. He put his hand on the paperweight. Tatyana Nikolaevna and Fedorovich are in tetanus.

Kerzhentsev. Look at me. Do you see my thought? Savelov. You need to go to a sanatorium. I look. Kerzhentsev. Look! I can kill you. Savelov. No. You're crazy!!! Kerzhentsev. Yes, I'm crazy. I'll kill you with this! (Slowly picks up the paperweight.) (Suggesting.) Put your hand down!

Just as slowly, without taking his eyes off Kerzhentsev's, Savelov raises his hand to protect his head. Savelov's hand slowly, in jerks, unevenly lowers, and Kerzhentsev hits him on the head. Savelov falls. Kerzhentsev, with his paperweight raised, leans over him. The desperate cry of Tatyana Ivanovna and Fedorovich.

Curtain

PICTURE FOUR

Cabinet-library of Kerzhentsev. Near the tables, written and library, with books piled on them, Darya Vasilievna, the housekeeper of Kerzhentseva, a not old, pretty woman, is slowly doing something. Sings softly. Corrects books, brushes off dust, looks into the inkwell to see if there is any ink. In the front bell. Darya Vasilievna turns her head, hears Kerzhentsev's loud voice in the hallway, and calmly continues her work.

Daria Vasilievna (sings softly).“My mother loved me, adored that I was a beloved daughter, and my daughter ran away with a sweetheart into the dead of a rainy night ...> What do you think, Vasya? Anton Ignatich has arrived? Vasily. Daria Vasilievna! Daria Vasilievna. Well? dense ... "Let's have dinner now, Vasya. Well, what are you? Vasily. Daria Vasilyevna! Anton Ignatich ask to give them clean linen, a shirt, he is in the bathroom. Darya Vasilyevna (surprised). What else is this? What other underwear? It is necessary to dine, not linen, the seventh hour. Basil. It's a bad thing, Darya Vasilievna, I'm afraid. He has blood all over his clothes, on his jacket and trousers. Daria Vasilievna. Well, what are you! Where? Basil. How much do I know? I'm afraid. He began to take off his fur coat, so even in the fur coat there was blood on the sleeves, he stained his hands. Fresh at all. Now he washes in the bathroom and asks to change. He doesn't let me in, he speaks through the door. Daria Vasilievna. This is strange! Come on, let's go now. Hm! An operation, maybe some kind, but for the operation he puts on a dressing gown. Hm! Basil. Rather, Daria Vasilievna! Listen, it's calling. I'm afraid. Daria Vasilievna. Oh well. How skittish. Let's go. (Exit.)

The room has been empty for some time. Then Kerzhentsev enters, and behind him, apparently frightened, Darya Vasilievna. Kerzhentsev speaks in a raised voice, laughs loudly, is dressed at home, without a starched collar.

Kerzhentsev. I won't dine, Dashenka, you can clean up. I don't feel like it. Daria Vasilievna. How is it, Anton Ignatitch? Kerzhentsev. And so. What are you afraid of, Dasha? Did Vasily say anything to you? You want to listen to this fool. (Goes quickly to the corner where the empty cage is still standing.) Where is our Jaipur? There is not. Our Jaipur has died, Darya Vasilievna. Died! What are you, Dashenka, what are you? Daria Vasilievna. Why did you lock the bathroom and take the keys with you, Anton Ignatich? Kerzhentsev. And so as not to upset you, Darya Vasilievna, so as not to upset you! (Laughs.) I'm kidding. You'll find out soon, Dasha. Daria Vasilievna. What do I know? Where have you been, Anton Ignatitch? Kerzhentsev. Where was? I was in the theatre, Dasha. Daria Vasilievna. What is theater now? Kerzhentsev. Yes. Now there is no theater. But I played myself, Dasha, I played myself. And I played great, I played great! It's a pity that you can't appreciate what you can't appreciate, I would tell you about one amazing thing, an amazing thing - a talented reception! Talented welcome! You just need to look into your eyes, you just need to look into your eyes and... But you don't understand anything, Dasha. Kiss me, Dashenka. Daria Vasilievna (moving away). No. Kerzhentsev. Kiss. Daria Vasilievna. I do not want. I'm afraid. You have eyes... Kerzhentsev (sternly and angrily). What are the eyes? Go. Enough nonsense! But you are stupid, Dasha, and I will kiss you all the same. (Forcibly kisses.) It's a pity, Dashenka, that the night is not ours, that the night ... (Laughs.) Well, go ahead. And tell Vasily that in an hour or two I will have such guests, such guests in uniforms. Let not be afraid. And tell him to give me a bottle of white wine here. So. All. Go.

The economy is out. Kerzhentsev, stepping very firmly, walks about the room, walks. He thinks he looks very carefree and cheerful. Takes one, another book, looks and puts it back. His appearance is almost frightening, but he thinks he is calm. Walks. Notices an empty cell - and laughs.

Ah, it's you, Jaipur! Why do I keep forgetting that you're dead? Jaipur, did you die of boredom? Silly melancholy, you should have lived and looked at me as I looked at you! Jaipur, do you know what I did today? (Walks around the room, talking, gesticulating strongly.) Died. Took and died. Silly! He does not see my triumph. Does not know. Does not see. Silly! But I'm a little tired - still not tired! Put your hand down, I said. And he dropped it. Jaipur! Monkey - he lowered his hand! (Goes to the cage, laughs.) Could you do it, monkey? Silly! He died like a fool - from anguish. Silly! (Sings loudly.)

Vasily brings wine and a glass, goes on tiptoe.

Who is it? BUT? It's you. Put. Go.

Vasily also tiptoes timidly out. Kerzhentsev throws down the book, drinks a glass of wine with a flourish and quickly, and after making several circles around the room, takes the book and lies down on the sofa. He lights a lamp on the table, by the head of the bed, his face is brightly lit, as if by a reflector. Tries to read but can't, throws the book on the floor.

No, I don't want to read. (Throws his arms under his head and closes his eyes.) So glad. Nicely. Nicely. Tired. Sleepy; sleep. (Silence, immobility. Suddenly laughs without opening his eyes, as in a dream. Slightly raises and lowers his right hand.) Yes!

Again quiet and prolonged laughter with closed eyes. Silence. Immobility. A brightly lit face becomes stricter, more severe. Somewhere a clock strikes. Suddenly, with his eyes still closed, Kerzhentsev slowly rises and sits down on the sofa. Silent, as if in a dream. And he utters it slowly, separating the words, loudly and strangely empty, as if in a strange voice, swaying slightly and evenly.

And it is quite possible - that - Dr. Kerzhentsev is really crazy. - He thought - that he is pretending, but he really is crazy. And now crazy. (Another moment of immobility. Opens his eyes and stares in horror.) Who said that? (Silence and looks with horror.) Who? (Whispers.) Who said? Who? Who? Oh my goodness! (He jumps up and, full of horror, rushes about the room.) Not! Not! (He stops and, stretching out his arms, as if holding in place the whirling things, everything falling, almost screams.) Not! Not! It's not true, I know. Stop! All stop! (Thrashes again.) Stop, stop! Wait! No need to drive yourself crazy. Don't, don't - drive yourself - crazy. Like this? (He stops and, closing his eyes tightly, pronounces separately, deliberately making his voice strange and cunning.) He thought he was faking, he was faking, and he was really crazy. (Opens his eyes and, slowly raising both hands, takes hold of his hair.) So. It happened. What you expected happened. It's over. (Again, silently and convulsively rushing about. Begins to tremble with a large, ever-increasing trembling. Mutters. Suddenly runs into a mirror, sees himself-- and screams a little in horror.) Mirror! (Again cautiously, creeps up to the mirror from the side, looks in. Mutters. Wants to straighten his hair, but does not understand how to do it. Movements are ridiculous, discoordinated.) Aha! Well, well, well. (Cunningly laughs.) You thought you were faking and you were crazy, woo-hoo! What, smart? Aha! You are small, you are evil, you are stupid, you are Dr. Kerzhentsev. Some kind of doctor Kerzhentsev, crazy doctor Kerzhentsev, some kind of doctor Kerzhentsev!.. (He mutters. Laughs. Suddenly, continuing to look at himself, slowly and seriously begins to tear his clothes. The material being torn cracks.)

Curtain

ACT THREE

PICTURE FIVE

A hospital for the insane, where the detainee Kerzhentsev was placed on trial. On the stage there is a corridor into which the doors of individual cells open; the corridor expands into a small hall, or niche. There is a small writing table for the doctor, two chairs; it is clear that employees in the hospital like to gather here for conversations. The walls are white with a wide blue panel; electricity burns. Light, comfortable. Opposite the niche is the door to Kerzhentsev's cell. There is restless movement in the corridor: a severe seizure has just ended with Kerzhentsev. A doctor in a white robe, who is called Ivan Petrovich, the nurse Masha, and ministers enter and leave the cell occupied by the patient. They carry medicine, ice.

Downstairs, two nurses are chatting softly. The second doctor comes out of the corridor, Dr. Straight, still a young man, short-sighted and very modest. At his approach, the nurses fall silent and assume respectful postures. They bow.

Straight. Good evening. Vasilyeva, what is this? Seizure? Vasiliev. Yes, Sergei Sergeyevich, a fit. Straight. Whose room is this? (Looks at the door.) Vasiliev. Kerzhentsev, the same one, Sergey Sergeevich. The killers. Straight. Ah yes. So what's up with him? Is Ivan Petrovich there? Vasiliev. There. Nothing now, calm down. Here Masha is coming, you can ask her. I just arrived.

Masha, a nurse, still a young woman with a pleasant, meek face, wants to enter the cell; the doctor calls her.

Straight. Listen, Masha, how are you? Masha. Hello, Sergey Sergeyevich. Nothing now, verse. I'm taking the medicine. Straight. BUT! Well, take it, take it.

Masha enters, carefully opening and closing the door.

Does the professor know? Was he told? Vasiliev. Yes, they reported. They themselves wanted to come, but now it’s okay, he’s gone. Straight. BUT!

A servant comes out of the cell and soon comes back. Everyone follows him with their eyes.

Vasilyev (laughs softly). What, Sergey Sergeyevich, are you not used to yet? Straight. BUT? Well, well, I'll get used to it. What was he, raging or something? Vasiliev. Don't know. Nurse. Rampant. Violently three coped, so he fought. He is such a Mamai!

Both nurses laugh softly.

Straight (strictly). Oh well! There is nothing to bare your teeth here.

Doctor Ivan Petrovich comes out of Kerzhentsev's cell, his knees are slightly crooked, he walks waddling.

Ah, Ivan Petrovich, hello. How are you? Ivan Petrovich. Nothing, nothing, great. Give me a cigarette. What, on duty today? Straight. Yes, on duty. Yes, I heard that you have something here, I went to look. Did you want to come? Ivan Petrovich. I wanted to, but now there is no need. It seems that he is falling asleep, I gave him such a dose ... So-and-so, my friend, so-and-so, Sergey Sergeyevich, so-and-so, my dear. Strong Mr. Kerzhentsev is a man, although more could be expected from his exploits. Do you know his feat? Straight. Well, how about. And why, Ivan Petrovich, did you not send him to isolation? Ivan Petrovich. That's how they got along. Himself goes! Yevgeny Ivanych!

Both doctors drop their cigarettes and assume respectful, expectant poses. Accompanied by another doctor, Professor Semyonov, an imposing, large old man with blackish-gray hair and a beard, approaches; in general, he is very shady and somewhat resembles a yard dog. Dressed normally, no hoodie. Hello. The nurses step aside.

Semenov. Hello Hello. Has your colleague calmed down? Ivan Petrovich. Yes, Yevgeny Ivanovich, calmed down. Falls asleep. I just wanted to go report to you. Semenov. Nothing, nothing. Calmed down - and thank God. And what is the reason - or so, from the weather? Ivan Petrovich. That is, partly from the weather, and partly complains that he is restless, cannot sleep, crazy people yell. Yesterday Kornilov had another seizure, howling through the whole corps for half the night. Semenov. Well, I'm tired of this Kornilov myself. Kerzhentsev wrote again, or what? Ivan Petrovich. Writes! These writings should be taken away from him, Yevgeny Ivanovich, it seems to me that this is also one of the reasons ... Semyonov. Well, well, take away! Let him write. He writes interestingly, then read it, I read it. Have you put on a shirt? Ivan Petrovich. I had to. Semenov. When he falls asleep, take it off quietly, otherwise it will be unpleasant, as he wakes up in a shirt. He won't remember anything. Let him write to himself, don't bother him, give him more paper. Does he complain about hallucinations? Ivan Petrovich. Not yet. Semenov. Well, thank God. Let him write, he has something to talk about. Give him more feathers, give him a box, he breaks his feathers when he writes. Emphasizes everything, emphasizes everything! Scolds you? Ivan Petrovich. It happens. Semenov. Well, well, he slanders me too, writes: and if you, Yevgeny Ivanovich, are dressed in a dressing gown, then who will be crazy: you or me?

Everyone laughs softly.

Ivan Petrovich. Yes. Unhappy person. That is, he does not inspire me with any sympathy, but ...

Nurse Masha comes out of the door, carefully covering it behind her. They look at her.

Masha. Hello, Evgeny Ivanovich. Semenov. Hello Masha. Masha. Ivan Petrovich, Anton Ignatitch asks you, he's awake. Ivan Petrovich. Now. Perhaps you would like it, Yevgeny Ivanovich? Semenov. There is nothing to worry about him. Go.

Ivan Petrovich, following the nurse, enters the cell. For a while, everyone looks at the locked door. It's quiet there.

An excellent woman, this Masha, my favorite. Third doctor. The doors never close. Leave her to dispose, so not a single patient will remain, they will scatter. I wanted to complain to you, Yevgeny Ivanovich. Semenov. Well, well, complain! Others will lock it up, and they will run away, so we will catch it. An excellent woman, Sergei Sergeevich, take a closer look at her, this is new to you. I don’t know what it has in it, but it has a wonderful effect on the sick, and heals the healthy! A sort of natural talent for health, mental ozone. (Sits down and takes out a cigarette. The assistants are standing.) Why don't you smoke, gentlemen? Straight. I've just... (Lights up.) Semenov. I would marry her, I like her so much; let her heat the stove with my books, she can do that too. Third doctor. This she can. Straight (smiling respectfully). Well, you are single, Yevgeny Ivanovich, get married. Semenov. She won't go, not a single woman will go for me, they say I look like an old dog.

They laugh quietly.

Straight. And what is your opinion, professor, this interests me very much: is Dr. Kerzhentsev really insane, or is he just a malingerer, as he now asserts? As an admirer of Savelov, this case at one time excited me extremely, and your authoritative opinion, Evgeny Ivanovich ... Semenov (shaking his head towards the camera). Did you see? Straight. Yes, but this fit doesn't prove anything yet. There are cases... Semyonov. And does not prove, and proves. What to say? I have known this Anton Ignatievich Kerzhentsev for five years, I know him personally, and he has always been a strange person ... Direct. But isn't that crazy? Semenov. This is not yet madness, they say about me that I am strange; and who is not strange?

Ivan Petrovich comes out of the cell, they look at him.

Ivan Petrovich (smiling). He asks to take off his shirt, it is promised that he will not. Semenov. No, it's too early. I had him - we are talking about your Kerzhentsev - and just before the almost murder, he consulted about his health; seems to be cunning. And what do you say? In my opinion, he really needs hard labor, good hard labor for fifteen years. Let it ventilate, breathe oxygen! Ivan Petrovich (laughs). Yes, oxygen. Third doctor. Not to his monastery! Semenov. To the monastery, not to the monastery, but to the people it is necessary to let him go, he himself asks for hard labor. So I give my opinion. He built traps, and he himself sits in them; perhaps not a little crazy. And it will be a pity for the person. Straight (thinking). And that scary thing is the head. It is worth swaying a little and ... So sometimes you think to yourself: who am I myself, if you take a good look at it? BUT? Semenov (gets up and gently pats Straight on the shoulder). Well, well, young man! Not so scary! Whoever thinks to himself that he is crazy is still healthy, but he will come down, then he will stop thinking. It's the same as death: terrible while alive. Here we are, who are older, must have gone crazy a long time ago, we are not afraid of anything. Look at Ivan Petrovich!

Ivan Petrovich laughs.

Straight (smiles). All the same, restless, Yevgeny Ivanovich. Fragile mechanics.

From afar comes some indefinite, unpleasant sound, similar to whining. One of the nurses leaves quickly.

What's this? Ivan Petrovich (to the third doctor). Again, probably your Kornilov, so that he was empty. Tired everyone. Third doctor. I have to go. Goodbye, Evgeny Ivanovich. Semenov. I'll go and see him myself. Third doctor. Yes, it's bad, it will hardly last a week. Burning! So I'll be waiting for you, Yevgeny Ivanovich. (Leaves.) Straight. And what does Kerzhentsev write, Yevgeny Ivanovich? I'm not out of curiosity... Semyonov. And he writes well, fidgety: he can go there, and he can write here - he writes well! And when he proves that he is healthy, you see a madman in optima forma (At its best (lat.).), but he will begin to prove that he is crazy - at least put lectures to young doctors in the department, so healthy. Ah, you gentlemen, my young ones, the point is not that he writes, but that - I am a man! Human!

Enter Masha.

Masha. Ivan Petrovich, the patient fell asleep, can the servants be released? Semenov. Let go, Masha, let go, just don't leave yourself. Does he offend you? Masha. No, Yevgeny Ivanovich, he doesn't offend. (Leaves.)

Soon two burly servants come out of the cell, they try to walk quietly, but they can't, they knock. Kornilov screams louder.

Semenov. So that. And it's a pity that I look like a dog, I would have married Masha; Yes, and I lost the qualification a long time ago. (Laughs.) However, as our nightingale is flooded, we must go! Ivan Petrovich, come on, you'll tell me more about Kerzhentsev. Goodbye, Sergei Sergeevich. Straight. Goodbye, Evgeny Ivanovich.

Semyonov and Ivan Petrovich slowly leave along the corridor. Ivan Petrovich says. Doctor Straight stands with his head down, thinking. Absent-mindedly he looks for a pocket under a white overall, takes out a cigarette case, a cigarette, but does not light it - he forgot.

Curtain

PICTURE SIX

The cell where Kerzhentsev is located. The situation is state-owned, the only large window behind bars; the door is locked at every entrance and exit, the hospital nurse Masha does not always do this, although she is obliged to. Quite a lot of books that he ordered from home, but does not read, Dr. Kerzhentsev. Chess, which he often plays, playing complex, multi-day games with himself. Kerzhentsev in a hospital gown. During his stay in the hospital, he lost weight, his hair grew a lot, but is in order; from insomnia, Kerzhentsev's eyes have a somewhat excited look. He is currently writing his explanation to expert psychiatrists. Twilight, it is already dark in the cell, but the last bluish light falls on Kerzhentsev from the window. It becomes difficult to write in the dark. Kerzhentsev gets up and turns on the switch: first the top lamp on the ceiling flashes, then the one on the table, under the green shade. He writes again, intently and sullenly, counting the pages he has written in a whisper. Nurse Masha enters quietly. Her white official overall is very clean, and all of her, with her precise and silent movements, gives the impression of cleanliness, order, gentle and calm kindness. Straightens the bed, does something quietly.

Kerzhentsev (without turning around). Masha! Masha. What, Anton Ignatich? Kerzhentsev. Chloralamide released in the pharmacy? Masha. They let me go, I'll bring it now when I go for tea. Kerzhentsev (stopping writing, turns around). My prescription? Masha. In your. Ivan Petrovich looked, did not say anything, signed. He just shook his head. Kerzhentsev. Did you shake your head? What does it mean: a lot, in his opinion, the dose is large? Ignoramus! Masha-. Don't swear, Anton Ignatich, don't, dear. Kerzhentsev. Did you tell him what kind of insomnia I have, that I didn’t sleep properly a single night? Masha. Said. He knows. Kerzhentsev. Ignorant! Ignorant! Jailers! They put a person in such conditions that a completely healthy person can go crazy, and they call it a test, a scientific test! (Walks around the cell.) Donkeys! Masha, tonight that Kornilov of yours was yelling again. Seizure? Masha. Yes, a fit, very strong, Anton Ignatich, calmed down with difficulty. Kerzhentsev. Unbearable! Did you wear a shirt? Masha. Yes. Kerzhentsev. Unbearable! He howls for hours on end and no one can stop him! It's terrible, Masha, when a person stops talking and howls: the human larynx, Masha, is not adapted to howling, and that's why these half-animal sounds and cries are so terrible. I want to get on all fours and howl. Masha, when you hear this, don't you want to howl yourself? Masha. No, dear, what are you! I'm healthy. Kerzhentsev. Healthy! Yes. You are a very strange person, Masha... Where are you going? Masha. I'm nowhere, I'm here. Kerzhentsev. Stay with me. You are a very strange person, Masha. For two months now I have been looking at you, studying you, and I can’t understand where you get this diabolical firmness, unshakable spirit. Yes. You know something, Masha, but what? Among the crazy, howling, crawling, in these cages, where every particle of air is infected with madness, you walk so calmly, as if it were ... a meadow with flowers! Understand, Masha, that this is more dangerous than living in a cage with tigers and lions, with the most poisonous snakes! Masha. Nobody will touch me. I've been here for five years, and no one even hit me, didn't even scold me. Kerzhentsev. That's not the point, Masha! Infection, poison - understand? -- that's the problem! All your doctors are already half crazy, and you are wildly, you are categorically healthy! You are gentle with us, as with calves, and your eyes are so clear, so deep and incomprehensibly clear, as if there is no madness in the world at all, no one is howling, but only singing songs. Why is there no longing in your eyes? You know something, Masha, you know something precious, Masha, the only saving thing, but what? But what? Masha. I don't know anything, honey. I live as God ordered, but what should I know? Kerzhentsev (laughs angrily). Well, yes, of course, as God ordered. Masha. And everyone lives like this, I'm not alone. Kerzhentsev (laughs even more angrily). Well, of course, and everyone lives like that! No, Masha, you don't know anything, it's a lie, and I cling to you in vain. You are worse than straw. (Sits down.) Listen, Masha, have you ever been to the theater? Masha. No, Anton Ignatich, never was. Kerzhentsev. So. And you are illiterate, you have not read a single book. Masha, do you know the gospel well? Masha. No, Anton Ignatich, how can you know. I only know what is read in church, and even then you can only remember a lot! I like to go to church, but I don’t have to, there’s no time, there’s a lot of work, God forbid, just jump up for a minute, cross your forehead. I, Anton Ignatich, strive to get into the church when the priest says: and all of you, Orthodox Christians! I hear it, I sigh, so I'm glad. Kerzhentsev. Here she is happy! She knows nothing, and she is glad, and in her eyes there is no anguish from which one dies. Nonsense! Inferior form or... what or? Nonsense! Masha, do you know that the Earth, on which we are now with you, that this Earth is spinning? Masha (indifferently). No, honey, I don't know. Kerzhentsev. Spinning, Masha, spinning, and we're spinning with her! No, you know something, Masha, you know something that you don't want to talk about. Why did God give language only to his devils, while angels are dumb? Maybe you are an angel, Masha? But you are speechless - you are desperately not a match for Dr. Kerzhentsev! Masha, my dear, do you know that I will really go crazy soon? Masha. No, you won't. Kerzhentsev. Yes? But tell me, Masha, but only in good conscience - God will punish you for deceit! - tell me in good conscience: am I crazy or not? Masha. You yourself know that there is no... Kerzhentsev. I don't know anything myself! Myself! I'm asking you! Masha. Certainly not crazy. Kerzhentsev. Did I kill? What is this? Masha. So that's what they wanted. It was your will to kill, so you killed. Kerzhentsev. What is this? Sin, do you think? Masha (somewhat angrily). I don't know, my dear, ask those who know. I am not a judge of people. It’s easy for me to say: it’s a sin, I twisted my tongue, that’s it, but for you it will be a punishment ... No, let others punish whoever wants to, but I can’t punish anyone. No. Kerzhentsev. And God, Masha? Tell me about God, you know. Masha. What are you, Anton Ignatich, how dare I know about God? No one dares to know about God, there has never been such a desperate head. Can't I bring you some tea, Anton Ignatich? With milk? Kerzhentsev. With milk, with milk ... No, Masha, you shouldn't have taken me out of the towel then, you did it stupidly, my angel. Why the hell am I here? No, why the hell am I here? If I were dead, I would be calm... Ah, if only I could have a moment of peace! They cheated on me, Masha! They meanly cheated on me, as soon as women cheat, serfs and ... thoughts! I was betrayed, Masha, and I died. Masha. Who betrayed you, Anton Ignatich? Kerzhentsev (striking himself on the forehead). Here. Thought! Thought, Masha, that's who cheated on me. Have you ever seen a snake, a drunken snake, furious with poison? And now there are a lot of people in the room, and the doors are locked, and there are bars on the windows - and now she crawls between people, climbs up her legs, bites on the lips, on the head, on the eyes! .. Masha! Masha. What, my dear, are you not well? Kerzhentsev. Masha!.. (Sits down with his head in his hands.)

Masha comes over and gently strokes his hair.

Masha! Masha. What, honey? Kerzhentsev. Masha! .. I was strong on the ground, and my legs stood firmly on it - and what now? Masha, I'm dead! I will never know the truth about myself. Who am I? Did I pretend to be crazy in order to kill, or was I really crazy, that's why I killed? Masha!.. Masha (carefully and affectionately removes his hands from his head, strokes his hair). Lie down on the bed, my dear... Oh, dear, and how sorry I am for you! Nothing, nothing, everything will pass, and your thoughts will clear up, everything will pass ... Lie down on the bed, rest, and I will sit around. Look how much gray hair, my dear, Antoshenka... Kerzhentsev. You don't leave. Masha. No, I have nowhere to go. Lie down. Kerzhentsev. Give me a handkerchief. Masha. Nate, my dear, this is mine, but he is clean, they just gave him out today. Wipe away the tears, wipe away. You need to lie down, lie down. Kerzhentsev (lowering his head, looking at the floor, he goes to the bed, lies on his back, his eyes are closed). Masha! Masha. I'm here. I want to take a chair. Here I am. Is it okay if I put my hand on your forehead? Kerzhentsev. Good. Your hand is cold, I'm pleased. Masha. What about a light hand? Kerzhentsev. Light. You are funny, Masha. Masha. My hand is light. Before, before the nurses, I went to the nannies, and so he does not sleep, it happened, the baby, he worries, and if I put my hand, he will fall asleep with a smile. My hand is light and kind. Kerzhentsev. Tell me something. You know something, Masha: tell me what you know. Don't think, I don't want to sleep, I closed my eyes like that. Masha. What do I know, baby? You all know this, but what can I know? Silly me. Well, listen. Since this, I was a girl, we had such a case that a calf strayed from its mother. And how stupid she missed him! And it was already in the evening, and my father said to me: Masha, I’ll go to the right to look, and you go to the left, if there is in the Korchagin forest, call. So I went, my dear, and as soon as I approached the forest, lo and behold, a wolf from the bushes and a bunch!

Kerzhentsev, opening his eyes, looks at Masha and laughs.

What are you laughing at? Kerzhentsev. You tell me, Masha, like a little one - about the wolf! Well, was the wolf very scary? Masha. Very scary. Just don't laugh, I haven't finished everything yet... Kerzhentsev. Well, that's enough, Masha. Thank you. I need to write. (Stands up.) Masha (pulls back chair and straightens bed). Well, write to yourself. Can I bring you tea now? Kerzhentsev. Yes please. Masha. With milk? Kerzhentsev. Yes, with milk. Don't forget chloralamide, Masha.

Enters, almost colliding with Masha, Dr. Ivan Petrovich.

Ivan Petrovich. Hello, Anton Ignatich, good evening. Listen, Masha, why don't you close the door? Masha. Didn't I close? And I thought... Ivan Petrovich. "And I thought..." You look, Masha! This is the last time I'm telling you... Kerzhentsev. I will not run away, colleague. Ivan Petrovich. This is not the point, but the order, we ourselves are in the position of subordinates here. Go, Masha. Well, how do we feel? Kerzhentsev. We feel badly, in accordance with our position. Ivan Petrovich. That is? And you look fresh. Insomnia? Kerzhentsev. Yes. Yesterday Kornilov kept me awake the whole night ... so, it seems, is his surname? Ivan Petrovich. What, howled? Yes, a strong fit. Crazy house, my friend, there's nothing to be done, or a yellow house, as they say. And you look fresh. Kerzhentsev. And you, Ivan Petrovich, are not very fresh. Ivan Petrovich. Wrapped up. Eh, there is no time, otherwise I would play chess with you, you are Lasker! Kerzhentsev. For testing? Ivan Petrovich. That is? No, what is there - for an innocent rest, my friend. What are you testing? You know yourself that you are healthy. If it were my power, I would not hesitate to send you to hard labor. (Laughs.) Hard labor you need, my friend, hard labor, not chloralamide! Kerzhentsev. So. And why, colleague, when you say this, you do not look me in the eye? Ivan Petrovich. That is, as in the eyes? Where am I looking? In the eyes! Kerzhentsev. You are lying, Ivan Petrovich! Ivan Petrovich. Oh well! Kerzhentsev. Lie! Ivan Petrovich. Oh well! And besides, you are an angry man, Anton Ignatich - just swear at once. It's not good, dad. And why would I lie? Kerzhentsev. Out of habit. Ivan Petrovich. Here you go. Again! (Laughs.) Kerzhentsev (looks sullenly at him). And you, Ivan Petrovich, for how many years would you plant me? Ivan Petrovich. That is, hard labor? Yes, fifteen years, I think so. A lot of? Then maybe ten, enough for you. You yourself want hard labor, well, grab dozens of years old. Kerzhentsev. I want it myself! Okay, I want. So, in hard labor? BUT? (Chuckles grimly.) So, let Mr. Kerzhentsev grow hair like a monkey, huh? And this means (slaps his forehead)- to hell, right? Ivan Petrovich. That is? Well, yes, and you are a ferocious subject, Anton Ignatich - very much! Well, well, it's not worth it. And here's why I'm here, my dear: today you will have a guest, or rather, a guest ... don't worry! BUT? Not worth it!

Silence.

Kerzhentsev. I do not worry. Ivan Petrovich. It’s great that you don’t worry: by God, there is nothing in the world that would make it worth breaking spears! Today you, and tomorrow I, as they say ...

Masha enters and puts down a glass of tea.

Masha, is the lady there? Masha. There, in the hallway. Ivan Petrovich. Aha! Go. So... Kerzhentsev. Savelov? Ivan Petrovich. Yes, Savelova, Tatyana Nikolaevna. Don’t worry, my dear, it’s not worth it, although, of course, I wouldn’t let the lady in: it’s not according to the rules, and it’s really a difficult test, that is, in the sense of nerves. Well, the lady obviously has connections, the authorities allowed her, but what about us? We are subordinate people. But if you do not want, then your will will be done: that is, we will send the lady back to where she came from. So how, Anton Ignatich? Can you handle this brand?

Silence.

Kerzhentsev. I can. Ask Tatiana Nikolaevna here. Ivan Petrovich. Very well. And one more thing, my dear: an attendant will be present during the meeting ... I understand how unpleasant it is, but order, as a rule, can't be helped. So don't get rowdy, Anton Ignatich, don't chase him away. I purposely gave you such a dumbass that no one understands! You can speak calmly. Kerzhentsev. Good. Ask. Ivan Petrovich. Bon voyage, colleague, goodbye. Don't worry.

It turns out. Kerzhentsev was alone for some time. He quickly looks in a small mirror and straightens his hair; pulls up to appear calm. Enter Tatyana Nikolaevna and a servant, the latter stands near the door, does not express anything, only occasionally scratches his nose embarrassingly and guiltily. Tatyana Nikolaevna is in mourning, her hands are in gloves - apparently she is afraid that Kerzhentsev will stretch out her hand.

Tatyana Nikolaevna. Hello, Anton Ignatich.

Kerzhentsev is silent.

(Louder.) Hello, Anton Ignatich. Kerzhentsev. Hello. Tatyana Nikolaevna. May I sit down? Kerzhentsev. Yes. Why did they come? Tatyana Nikolaevna. I'll tell you now. How are you feeling? Kerzhentsev. Good. Why did you come? I didn't call you and I didn't want to see you. If you want to arouse conscience or repentance in me with mourning and all your ... sad look, then it was a vain work, Tatyana Nikolaevna. No matter how precious your opinion about the act I have done, I value only my opinion. I respect only myself, Tatyana Nikolaevna - in this respect I have not changed. Tatyana Nikolaevna. No, that's not what I'm after... Anton Ignatich! You must forgive me, I have come to ask your forgiveness. Kerzhentsev (surprised). In what? Tatyana Nikolaevna. Forgive me... He listens to us, and it's embarrassing for me to talk... Now my life is over, Anton Ignatich, Alexei took it to the grave, but I cannot and must not be silent about what I understood... He listens to us . Kerzhentsev. He doesn't understand anything. Speak up. Tatyana Nikolaevna. I realized that I alone was to blame for everything - without intent, of course, guilty, like a woman, but only I. I somehow forgot, it just didn’t occur to me that you could still love me, and I, with my friendship ... it’s true, I loved being with you ... But it was I who brought you to illness. Forgive me. Kerzhentsev. Before illness? Do you think that I was sick? Tatyana Nikolaevna. Yes. When that day I saw you so... scary, so... not a person, I seem to have realized then that you yourself are only a victim of something. And... it doesn't look like the truth, but it seems that even at that moment when you raised your hand to kill... my Alexei, I already forgave you. Forgive me too. (Weeps softly, lifts her veil and wipes her tears under the veil.) Excuse me, Anton Ignatich. Kerzhentsev (silently walks around the room, stops). Tatyana Nikolaevna, listen! I wasn't crazy. This is terrible!

Tatyana Nikolaevna is silent.

Probably, what I did was worse than if I had just, well, like others, killed Alexei ... Konstantinovich, but I was not crazy. Tatyana Nikolaevna, listen! I wanted to overcome something, I wanted to rise to some peak of will and free thought ... if only this is true. Horrible! I do not know anything. They changed me, you know? My thought, which was my only friend, lover, protection from life; my thought, in which I alone believed, as others believe in God—it, my thought, has become my enemy, my murderer! Look at that head—there is unbelievable horror in it! (Walks.) Tatyana Nikolaevna (looks at him carefully and fearfully). I do not understand. What are you talking about? Kerzhentsev. With all the power of my mind, thinking like... a steam hammer, I now can't decide if I was crazy or healthy. The edge is lost. Oh, vile thought - it can prove both, and what else is there in the world, besides my thought? Maybe from the outside you can even see that I'm not crazy, but I'll never know. Never! Who am I to believe? Some lie to me, others don't know anything, and the third I seem to drive myself crazy. Who will tell me? Who will say? (Sits down and clasps his head with both hands.) Tatyana Nikolaevna. No, you were crazy. Kerzhentsev (getting up). Tatyana Nikolaevna! Tatyana Nikolaevna. No, you were crazy. I wouldn't have come to you if you were healthy. You're crazy. I saw how you killed, how you raised your hand... you are crazy! Kerzhentsev. Not! It was... frenzy. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Why then did you beat again and again? He was already lying, he was already ... dead, and you all beat, beat! And you had such eyes! Kerzhentsev. It's not true: I only hit once! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Aha! You forgot! No, not once, you hit a lot, you were like a beast, you are crazy! Kerzhentsev. Yes, I forgot. How could I forget? Tatyana Nikolaevna, listen, it was a frenzy, because it happens! But the first blow ... Tatyana Nikolaevna (shouts). Not! Stand back! You still have such eyes... Move away!

The attendant stirs and takes a step forward.

Kerzhentsev. I walked away. It is not true. I have such eyes because I have insomnia, because I suffer unbearably. But I beg you, I once loved you, and you are a man, you came to forgive me... Tatyana Nikolaevna. Don't come! Kerzhentsev. No, no, I don't fit. Listen... listen! No, I don't fit. Tell me, tell me... you're a man, you're a noble man, and. I will believe you. Tell! Strain your whole mind and tell me calmly, I will believe, tell me that I'm not crazy. Tatyana Nikolaevna. Stay there! Kerzhentsev. I'm here. I just want to get on my knees. Have mercy on me, tell me! Think, Tanya, how terribly, how incredibly alone I am! Don't forgive me, don't, I'm not worth it, but tell the truth. You alone know me, they don't know me. If you want, I will swear to you that if you say, I will kill myself, I will avenge Alexei myself, I will go to him ... Tatyana Nikolaevna. To him? You?! No, you are crazy. Yes Yes. I am afraid of you! Kerzhentsev. Tanya! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Get up! Kerzhentsev. Okay, I got up. You see how obedient I am. Can crazy people be so obedient? Ask him! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Say "you" to me. Kerzhentsev. Good. Yes, of course, I have no right, I forgot myself, and I understand that you hate me now, hate me because I'm healthy, but in the name of truth - tell me! Tatyana Nikolaevna. No. Kerzhentsev. In the name of... the slain! Tatyana Nikolaevna. No no! I'm leaving. Farewell! Let people judge you, let God judge you, but I ... forgive you! It was I who drove you crazy, and I'm leaving. Forgive me. Kerzhentsev. Wait! Don't leave! So you can't leave! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Don't touch me! You hear! Kerzhentsev. No, no, I accidentally moved away. Let's be serious, Tatyana Nikolaevna, let's be just like serious people. Sit down...or don't you? Okay, I'll stand too. So here's the thing: I'm lonely, you see. I'm lonely terribly, like no one else in the world. Honestly! You see, the night falls, and I am seized with a mad horror. Yes, yes, loneliness! .. Great and formidable loneliness, when there is nothing around, a gaping emptiness, do you understand? Don't leave! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Farewell! Kerzhentsev. Just one word, I am now. Just one word! My loneliness! .. No, I won't talk about loneliness anymore! Tell me what you understand, tell me... but you don't dare to leave like that! Tatyana Nikolaevna. Farewell.

Comes out quickly. Kerzhentsev rushes after her, but the attendant blocks his way. The next minute, with habitual dexterity, he slips out himself and closes the door in front of Kerzhentsev.

Kerzhentsev (furiously knocking fists, screaming). Open! I'll break down the door! Tatyana Nikolaevna! Open! (He moves away from the door and silently clutches his head, clutches his hair with his hands. She stands like that.)

The story "Thought" was published in the journal "The World of God" in 1902, a year later, a rumor quickly spread among readers and critics about the madness of the author himself. At first, Leonid Andreev did not consider it necessary to make any objections, which only added fuel to the fire of gossip. But when in February 1903 the psychiatrist I. I. Ivanov, in his report on the story "Thought", read in St. Petersburg at a meeting of the Society of Normal and Pathological Psychology, completely repeated the rumor about the author's possible insanity, Andreev began to write angry letters to the editors. But it was too late, the stigma was set.

"Thought" is a kind of confession of the protagonist, Anton Kerzhentsev, who killed a childhood friend, Alexei Savelov. Kerzhentsev (a doctor by profession) is in a psychiatric clinic for examination and sets out in writing to the medical commission his talented idea - to feign insanity, so that later he can commit a crime and not be punished. The crime is portrayed as a theatrical performance, during which the protagonist easily convinces others of his mental illness. Having committed the murder, Dr. Kerzhentsev begins to doubt whether he is really sane and only successfully played the role of an insane criminal. The boundaries between reason and madness blurred and shifted, and actions and their motivations turned out to be just as uncertain: Kerzhentsev was only playing a madman or was he really crazy?

In the course of the revelations of Dr. Kerzhentsev, one can trace the split of consciousness into a hero-actor and a hero-philosopher. Andreev interweaves both facets with phrases that he highlights in italics. Such a technique keeps the reader aware that the hero is still crazy: “... I don’t know if she remembers that she laughed then; probably does not remember - she had to laugh so often. And then remind her: on the fifth of September she laughed. If she refuses - and she will refuse - then remind her how it was. I, this strong man who never cried, who was never afraid of anything - I stood in front of her and trembled ... "or" ... but after all, I crawled? Did I crawl? Who am I - justifying crazy or healthy, driving himself crazy? Help me, you learned men! Let your authoritative word tip the scales in one direction or another ... ". The first "italics" found in the story speaks of laughter - a topic that Andreev raised more than once in his works ("Laughter", "Lie", "Darkness" ...). From that moment on, Dr. Kerzhentsev's head begins to see a plan for a brilliant murder. It should be especially noted that laughter is precisely female - this feature plays a very important role in the work of Leonid Andreev ("Darkness", "In the Fog", "Christians"). Perhaps the origins of this problem should be sought in the biography of the writer ...

The theatricality of the behavior of the main character becomes clear literally from the first pages - Kerzhentsev often and happily talks about his talent as an actor: “The tendency to pretense has always been in my character and was one of the forms in which I strove for inner freedom. Even at the gymnasium, I often feigned friendship: I walked along the corridor embracing, as real friends do, skillfully forged friendly and frank speech ... ”. It is worth noting that even in front of an invisible medical commission, the hero behaves a la on stage. He reproduces the smallest and most unnecessary details of his dark past, gives advice on his own treatment, invites the chairman of the commission, professor of psychiatry Drzhembitsky, partly to plunge into madness himself. By the way, it is worth noting the similarity of surnames in the composition of consonant letters. This can be seen as an additional hint at the similarity of the two doctors - we also recall that the “patient” suggests Drzhembitsky to swap places of interrogators and interrogated for a while. Another feature of Kerzhentsev’s theatrical behavior is the aphoristic statements: “when a woman falls in love, she becomes insane”, “is anyone who tells the truth crazy?”, “You will say that you cannot steal, kill and deceive, because this is immorality and a crime , and I will prove to you that it is possible to kill and rob, and that this is very moral. We will return to the last statement. Andreev furnishes with theatricality even the very moment of the murder: “Slowly, smoothly, I began to raise my hand, and Alexei just as slowly began to raise his, all without taking his eyes off me. “Wait!” I said sternly. Alexei's hand stopped, and, still not taking his eyes off me, he smiled incredulously, palely, with his lips alone. Tatyana Nikolaevna shouted something terribly, but it was too late. I hit the temple with a sharp end ... ". In truth, the smoothness and slowness of everything that happens is very reminiscent of a theatrical performance with real actors. An hour and a half after the murder, Dr. Kerzhentsev will lie on the sofa, contented and with his eyes closed, and will repeat this “wait a minute.” Then he will understand that "he thought he was pretending, but he really was crazy."

The other side of Dr. Kerzhentsev is a madman who personifies the Nietzschean superman. In order to become a "superman" according to F. Nietzsche, the hero of the story stands on the other side of "good and evil", steps over moral categories, rejecting the norms of universal morality. It is well known that Leonid Andreev was fond of the work and ideas of the German philosopher, and in the speech of his hero he puts an almost direct quote about the death of God. Doctor Kerzhentsev considers the nurse assigned to watch over the patients, Masha, to be crazy. He asks the medical commission to pay attention to her "noiselessness", "shyness" and asks to observe her "somehow imperceptibly for her." He calls her a person who is only able to “serve, receive and take away”, but ... Masha is the only person who speaks about God in the story, prays and crosses Kerzhentsev three times according to Christian custom. And it is she who gets Nietzsche’s “hymn”: “In one of the dark closets of your simple house there lives someone very useful to you, but this room is empty for me. He died long ago, the one who lived there, and on his grave I erected a magnificent monument. He died. Masha, died - and will not rise again. The line of Nietzscheanism can also be traced in Kerzhentsev's last notes: "I will blow your damned land into the air, which has so many gods and there is no single eternal God." Recall that "God is dead" - the words of F. Nietzsche, which he associated with the main, from his point of view, event of modern times - the disclosure of complete emptiness in everything that culture and civilization lived, the failure of morality and spirituality in Nothing, the triumph of nihilism. Nihilism cast aside all hypocrisy, all play of decency and nobility, "cast its shadow over the whole of Europe." Nietzsche declared Christianity to be the culprit for the “death of God” for perverting what Jesus brought to people: “We killed him - you and me! We are all his killers!” From here - all the coming catastrophes, through which we have to go through 200 years, in order to then enter a new path. The expression of madness in "Thoughts" is expressed by the transmission of visual metamorphoses and kinesthetic sensations of Dr. Kerzhentsev. “The mouth twists to the side, the muscles of the face tense like ropes, the teeth bare like a dog, and from the dark opening of the mouth comes this disgusting, roaring, whistling, laughing, howling sound ...”. “Would you like to crawl on all fours? Of course you don't, because what healthy person would want to crawl! Well, but still? Don't you have such a slight desire, very slight, quite trifling, at which you want to laugh - to slide off the chair and crawl a little, just a little? ... ”Here you should pay attention to the images of the face, the dog and crawling people. It is very typical for Andreev to convey madness through the modification of a face and the addition of any animal attributes to a person - animalization, in other words. Similar things can be found in "Darkness", "The Life of Basil of Thebes" and "Red Laughter". Let's focus on the last one. The "facial" aspect of madness in both "Thought" and "Red Laughter" is of two types: "calm" and "violent." Dr. Kerzhentsev, noting the madness of the nurse, speaks of her "strangeness, pale and alien smile", and the main characters of "Red Laughter" note the "yellowness of the faces and dumb eyes, like the moon." Violent faces are manifested in "broken facial expressions, crooked smiles" and "terribly burning eyes and blood-colored, upside-down views", respectively. The movements of the madmen in "Thought" have the qualities of "sliding", "crawling" and "wild, animal impulses, in an effort to tear clothes" - we talked about this before. "Red Laughter" shows people in "calm lethargy and heaviness of the dead" or "with jerky movements, start at every knock, constantly looking for something behind them, trying to gesticulate to excess." One can see the theatrical aspect in this: the characteristic facial expressions, the peculiar “upturned” and “broken” manner of movements are more inherent in the stage than in the theater of military operations. (After a certain time, such theatricality will find its response in the work of such artists as A. Blok, A. Bely and A. Vertinsky ...) Animation and images of animals Leonid Andreev shows either in a metaphorical comparison - the image of a servant "give - bring" or in downtroddenness, fear" or, conversely, in serpentine qualities ("swiftness and bites" in "Thoughts", "barbed wire" in the imagination of the soldiers of the "Red Laughter") and canine "grins, howls and squeals". Separately, it should be noted that Andreev's "Thoughts" introduces the image of Ouroboros - a snake biting its own tail, thereby symbolizing the infinity and irreversibility of the ongoing madness. The philosophical "methodology" of madness, inherent in Kerzhentsev's Thought, will continue to be developed and used by Andreev. After only two years in Red Laughter, it is not difficult to trace the development "You will say that it is impossible to steal, kill and deceive, because this is immorality and a crime, and I will prove to you that it is possible to kill and rob, and that this is very moral." in “a crazy old man shouted, stretching out his arms: - Who said that you can’t kill, burn and rob? We will kill and rob and burn. But such aggressive Nietzscheanism, as Andreev convinces the reader, means intellectual death - this is precisely what Dr. Kerzhentsev pays for.

The stigma of "crazy" Leonid Andreev rejected. In 1908, he published another open letter that refuted the assumptions about his illness. However, in 1910, three articles were already published, in which it was stated that the writer had gone mad and was suffering from an acute nervous breakdown. He replied to these articles with a new open letter entitled "The Madness of L. Andreev." In it, not without a hint of foolishness, he wrote: “I'm tired of questions about health. But still, I will support this rumor that I have lost my mind; like crazy, everyone will be afraid of me and will finally let me work in peace.” But Andreev was not allowed to work quietly.

Leonid Andreev

On December 11, 1900, Doctor of Medicine Anton Ignatievich Kerzhentsev committed a murder. Both the entire set of data in which the crime was committed, and some of the circumstances that preceded it, gave reason to suspect Kerzhentsev of an abnormality in his mental abilities.

Put on probation at the Elisavetinskaya psychiatric hospital, Kerzhentsev was subjected to strict and careful supervision by several experienced psychiatrists, among whom was Professor Drzhembitsky, who had recently died. Here are the written explanations that were given about what happened by Dr. Kerzhentsev himself a month after the start of the test; together with other materials obtained by the investigation, they formed the basis of the forensic examination.

Sheet one

Until now, Messrs. experts, I hid the truth, but now circumstances force me to reveal it. And, having recognized it, you will understand that the matter is not at all as simple as it may seem to the profane: either a fever shirt or shackles. There is a third thing here - not shackles and not a shirt, but, perhaps, more terrible than both combined.

Alexei Konstantinovich Savelov, whom I killed, was my friend at the gymnasium and the university, although we differed in specialties: as you know, I am a doctor, and he graduated from the law faculty. It cannot be said that I did not love the deceased; he was always sympathetic to me, and I have never had closer friends than he. But with all the sympathetic qualities, he did not belong to those people who can inspire respect in me. The amazing softness and suppleness of his nature, the strange inconsistency in the field of thought and feeling, the sharp extreme and groundlessness of his constantly changing judgments made me look at him like a child or a woman. People close to him, who often suffered from his antics and at the same time, due to the illogicality of human nature, loved him very much, tried to find an excuse for his shortcomings and their feelings and called him an "artist". And indeed, it turned out that this insignificant word completely justifies him and that which for any normal person would be bad, makes it indifferent and even good. Such was the power of the invented word that even I at one time succumbed to the general mood and willingly excused Alexei for his petty shortcomings. Small ones - because he was incapable of big things, like everything big. This is sufficiently evidenced by his literary works, in which everything is petty and insignificant, no matter what short-sighted criticism may say, greedy for the discovery of new talents. Beautiful and worthless were his works, beautiful and worthless was he himself.

When Alexei died, he was thirty-one years old, a little over a year younger than me.

Alexei was married. If you have seen his wife now, after his death, when she is in mourning, you cannot imagine how beautiful she once was: she has become so much, so much uglier. The cheeks are grey, and the skin on the face is so flabby, old, old, like a worn glove. And wrinkles. These are wrinkles now, and another year will pass - and these will be deep furrows and ditches: after all, she loved him so much! And her eyes no longer sparkle and laugh, and before they always laughed, even at the time when they needed to cry. I saw her for just one minute, accidentally bumping into her at the investigator's, and was amazed at the change. She couldn't even look at me angrily. So pathetic!

Only three - Alexei, me and Tatyana Nikolaevna - knew that five years ago, two years before Alexei's marriage, I made an offer to Tatyana Nikolaevna, and it was rejected. Of course, it is only assumed that there are three, and, probably, Tatyana Nikolaevna has a dozen more girlfriends and friends who are fully aware of how Dr. Kerzhentsev once dreamed of marriage and received a humiliating refusal. I don't know if she remembers that she laughed then; probably does not remember - she had to laugh so often. And then remind her: On the fifth of September she laughed. If she refuses - and she will refuse - then remind her how it was. I, this strong man who never cried, who was never afraid of anything - I stood before her and trembled. I was trembling and I saw her biting her lips, and I already reached out to hug her when she looked up and there was laughter in them. My hand remained in the air, she laughed, and laughed for a long time. As much as she wanted. But then she did apologize.

Excuse me, please,” she said, her eyes laughing.

And I smiled too, and if I could forgive her for her laughter, I would never forgive that smile of mine. It was the fifth of September, at six o'clock in the evening, St. Petersburg time. In St. Petersburg, I add, because we were then on the station platform, and now I can clearly see the big white dial and the position of the black hands: up and down. Alexei Konstantinovich was also killed at exactly six o'clock. The coincidence is strange, but able to reveal a lot to a quick-witted person.

One of the reasons for putting me here was the lack of a motive for the crime. Now you see that the motive existed. Of course, it wasn't jealousy. The latter presupposes in a person an ardent temperament and weakness of mental abilities, that is, something directly opposite to me, a cold and rational person. Revenge? Yes, rather revenge, if an old word is really needed to define a new and unfamiliar feeling. The fact is that Tatyana Nikolaevna once again made me make a mistake, and this always angered me. Knowing Alexei well, I was sure that in marriage with him Tatyana Nikolaevna would be very unhappy and regret me, and therefore I insisted so much that Alexei, then still just in love, should marry her. Just a month before his tragic death, he told me:

It is to you that I owe my happiness. Really, Tanya?

Yes, brother, you gave a blunder!

This inappropriate and tactless joke shortened his life by a whole week: initially I decided to kill him on the eighteenth of December.

Yes, their marriage turned out to be happy, and it was she who was happy. He did not love Tatyana Nikolaevna much, and in general he was not capable of deep love. He had his favorite thing - literature - which led his interests beyond the bedroom. And she loved him and lived only for him. Then he was an unhealthy person: frequent headaches, insomnia, and this, of course, tormented him. And she even looked after him, the sick, and fulfill his whims was happiness. After all, when a woman falls in love, she becomes insane.

And so, day after day, I saw her smiling face, her happy face, young, beautiful, carefree. And I thought: I did it. He wanted to give her a dissolute husband and deprive her of himself, but instead he gave her a husband whom she loves, and he himself remained with her. You will understand this strangeness: she is smarter than her husband and loved to talk with me, and after talking, she went to sleep with him - and was happy.

I don't remember when the idea first came to me to kill Alexei. Somehow imperceptibly she appeared, but from the first minute she became so old, as if I had been born with her. I know that I wanted to make Tatyana Nikolaevna unhappy, and that at first I came up with many other plans that were less disastrous for Alexei - I have always been an enemy of unnecessary cruelty. Using my influence with Alexei, I thought of making him fall in love with another woman or making him a drunkard (he had a propensity for this), but all these methods were not suitable. The fact is that Tatyana Nikolaevna would have managed to remain happy, even giving it to another woman, listening to his drunken chatter or accepting his drunken caresses. She needed this man to live, and she somehow served him. There are such slave natures. And, like slaves, they cannot understand and appreciate the power of others, not the power of their master. There were smart, good and talented women in the world, but the world has not yet seen and will not see a fair woman.