Life and creative path of Leonid Andreev. human life

Biography

Creativity, main ideas

Artworks

stories

Novels and short stories

Screen versions of works

Leonid Nikolaevich Andreev(9 (21) August 1871, Orel, Russian Empire - September 12, 1919, Neivola, Finland) - Russian writer. Representative Silver Age Russian literature. Considered the founder of Russian expressionism.

Biography

Childhood

Born in Orel in a wealthy family of land surveyor-taxator Nikolai Ivanovich Andreev (1847-1889) and Anastasia Nikolaevna Andreeva (Packovskaya), the daughter of a bankrupt Polish landowner. Since childhood, he has shown an interest in reading. He studied at the Oryol classical gymnasium (1882-1891). He was fond of the works of Schopenhauer and Hartmann.

Youth

Youthful impressionability and developed imagination several times prompted him to reckless actions: at the age of 17 he decided to test his willpower and lay down between the rails in front of an approaching steam locomotive, but remained unharmed.

After graduating from high school, Andreev entered the law faculty of St. Petersburg University; after the death of his father, the financial situation of his family worsened, and Andreev himself began to abuse alcohol. At one time, Andreev even had to starve. In St. Petersburg, he tried to write his first stories, but from the editorial office, as Andreev recalls in his memoirs, they were returned with laughter. Expelled for non-payment, he entered the Faculty of Law of Moscow University. In Moscow, in the words of Andreev himself: "life was better financially: the comrades and the committee helped."

In 1894, after a love failure, Andreev tried to commit suicide. The consequence of an unsuccessful shot was church repentance and heart disease, which subsequently caused the death of the writer. After this incident, Leonid Andreev was again forced to live in poverty: now he needed to feed his mother, his sisters and brothers, who had moved to Moscow. He was interrupted by odd jobs, teaching and painting portraits to order. AT political activity did not participate.

In 1897, he successfully passed the final exams at the university, which opened the way for him to the legal profession, which he did until 1902. In the same year, he began his journalistic activities in the newspaper Moskovsky Vestnik and Kurier. He signed his feuilletons with the pseudonym "James Lynch". In 1898, his first story was published in the "Courier": "Bargamot and Garaska". According to Andreev, the story was an imitation of Dickens, but the young author was noticed by Maxim Gorky, who invited Andreev to the Knowledge book publishing partnership, which unites many young writers.

First Russian Revolution and pre-war years

Real fame came to Andreev after the publication in 1901 of his story "Once Upon a Time" in the magazine "Life".

In 1902 Andreev marries A. M. Veligorskaya, the great-niece of Taras Shevchenko. In the same year, he became the editor of Kurier, was forced to give the police an undertaking not to leave because of his connection with the revolutionary-minded students. Thanks to the help of Maxim Gorky, the first volume of his works was published in large numbers. During these years, the direction of creativity and its literary style were designated.

In 1905 he welcomed the First Russian Revolution; he hid hiding members of the RSDLP at his home, on February 10 he was imprisoned because a secret meeting of the Central Committee was held at his apartment the day before (on February 25 he was released on bail brought by Savva Morozov). In the same year, he will write the story "The Governor", which became a response to the murder on February 17 by the Socialist-Revolutionary I. Kalyaev of the Moscow Governor-General, Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich.

In 1906, the writer was forced to leave for Germany, where his second son, Daniel, was born, who later became a writer (he wrote the treatise "Rose of the World"). His wife dies from childbirth (buried in Moscow at the cemetery of the Novodevichy Convent). Andreev leaves for Capri (Italy), where he lives with Gorky. After the beginning of the reaction in 1907, Andreev became disillusioned with the revolution itself. He moves away from the revolutionary-minded literary environment of Gorky.

In 1908 Andreev moved to own house in Wammels. At the villa "Advance" (the name was chosen due to the fact that the house was built on an advance from the publisher) Leonid Andreev writes his first dramatic works.

Since 1909, he has been actively collaborating with the modernist almanacs of the Rosepovnik publishing house.

World War I, the 1917 revolution and the writer's death

Leonid Andreev met the beginning of the First World War with enthusiasm:

During the war, Andreev publishes a drama about military events in Belgium ("King, Law and Freedom"). However, the works of the writer at that time were mainly devoted not to the war, but to petty-bourgeois life, the theme of the “little man”.

After the February Revolution of 1917, he was a member of the editorial board of the reactionary newspaper Russkaya Volya.

The October Revolution did not accept and did not understand. After the separation of Finland from Russia, he went into exile. The last writings of the writer are imbued with pessimism and hatred for the Bolshevik authorities ("Satan's Diary", "SOS").

On September 12, 1919, Leonid Andreev died suddenly of a heart defect. He was buried in Marioki. In 1956, he was reburied in Leningrad at the Volkov cemetery.

In 1991, Leonid Andreev's house-museum was opened in Orel, the writer's homeland.

Addresses in St. Petersburg - Petrograd

1907-1908 - tenement house of K. Kh. Geldal - Kamennoostrovsky prospect, 13;
1914-1917 years - tenement house of K. I. Rosenstein - Bolshoy Prospekt, 75.

Creativity, main ideas

The first works of Leonid Andreev, largely under the influence of the disastrous conditions in which the writer was then, are imbued with critical analysis. modern world("Bargamot and Garaska", "City"). However, even in the early period of the writer’s work, his main motives appeared: extreme skepticism, disbelief in the human mind (“The Wall”, “The Life of Basil of Thebes”), there is a fascination with spiritualism and religion (“Judas Iscariot”). The stories "The Governor", "Ivan Ivanovich" and the play "To the Stars" reflect the writer's sympathy for the revolution. However, after the beginning of the reaction in 1907, Leonid Andreev abandoned any revolutionary views, believing that a revolt of the masses could only lead to great sacrifices and great suffering (see The Story of the Seven Hanged Men). In his story "Red Laughter" Andreev painted a picture of the horrors of modern warfare (a reaction to the Russo-Japanese War of 1905). The dissatisfaction of his heroes with the surrounding world and orders invariably results in passivity or an anarchic rebellion. The writer's dying writings are imbued with depression, the idea of the triumph of irrational forces.

Despite the pathetic mood of the works, Andreev's literary language, assertive and expressive, with emphasized symbolism, met with a wide response in the artistic and intellectual environment of pre-revolutionary Russia. Positive reviews about Andreev were left by Maxim Gorky, Roerich, Repin, Blok, Chekhov and many others. Andreev's works are distinguished by sharp contrasts, unexpected plot twists, combined with the schematic simplicity of the style. Leonid Andreev is recognized as a prominent writer of the Silver Age of Russian literature.

Artworks

stories

Plays

1906 - "To the Stars"
1907 - "The Life of a Man"
1907 - Savva
1908 - "Tsar Hunger"
1909 - "Anatema"
1909 - "Days of our lives"
1910 - "Anfisa"
1910 - Gaudeamus
"Katerina Ivanovna"
"Thought"
"The one who gets slapped"

Novels and short stories

1903 - "The Life of Basil of Thebes"
1905 - "Governor"
1907 - "Judas Iscariot and others"
1911 - "Sashka Zhegulev"
1916 - "Yoke of War"
1919 - "Satan's Diary" (not finished)

Screen versions of works

1916 - The one who receives slaps ( Russian empire)
1924 - The one who gets slapped (USA)
1987 - Christians
1990 - Purification
1991 - Night of Sinners (according to the story "Darkness") (also called "The Highest Truth of the Bomber Alexei")
2009 - Abyss (Russia)

Throughout the action, the Someone in Gray and a second nameless character, silently standing in the far corner, are on the stage. In the prologue, The One in Gray addresses the audience with an explanation of what will be presented to them. This is the life of a Man, all, from birth to the hour of death, like a candle, which he, the witness of life, will hold in his hand. In front of him and the spectators, Man will go through all the stages of being, from bottom to top - and from top to bottom. Limited by sight, Man will never see the next step; limited by hearing, Man will not hear the voice of fate; limited by knowledge, he will not guess what the next minute brings him. Happy young man. Proud husband and father. Weak old man. A candle consumed by fire. A string of paintings, where in a different guise - the same Man.

...Listening to the cries of a woman in labor, giggling old women are talking on the stage. One of the old women notices how lonely the man is screaming: everyone is talking - and they cannot be heard, but only one is shouting - and it seems as if all the others are silently listening. And how strangely the man screams, the second old woman grins: when you yourself are in pain, you do not notice how strange your cry is. And how funny children are! How helpless! How difficult they are born - animals give birth easier ... And die easier ... And live easier ...

There are many old women, but they seem to be uttering a monologue in unison.

Their speech is interrupted by Someone in gray, announcing: Man is born. The Father of Man passes through the scene with the doctor, confessing how he suffered during these hours of the birth of his son, how he felt sorry for his wife, how he hates the baby who brought her suffering, how he punishes himself for her torment ... And how grateful he is to God who heard his prayer, who made his dream of a son come true!

Relatives are on stage. Their remarks are like a continuation of the mutterings of the old women. They discuss with the most serious look the problems of choosing a name for a Person, his feeding and upbringing, his health, and then somehow quietly move on to much more prosaic questions: is it possible to smoke here and what is the best way to remove grease stains from a dress.

... The man has grown. He has a beloved wife and a favorite profession (he is an architect), but he has no money. The neighbors gossip on the stage about how strange it is: these two are young and beautiful, healthy and happy, it is pleasant to look at them, but they are unbearably sorry: they are always hungry. Why so? For what and in the name of what?

The Man and his Wife embarrassedly tell each other about the envy of the well-fed and rich people they meet on the street.

“Dressy ladies pass me by,” says the Man's Wife, “I look at their hats, hear the rustling of their silk skirts and I'm not happy about it, but I say to myself: “I don't have such a hat! I don't have a silk skirt like that!" “And when I walk down the street and see something that does not belong to us,” the Man answers her, “I feel how my fangs grow. If someone inadvertently pushes me in the crowd, I bare my fangs.

The man swears to Zhenya: they will get out of poverty.

strike that our house is a magnificent palace! Imagine that you are the queen of the ball! Imagine that an amazing orchestra is playing - for us and our guests!

And the Man's Wife easily imagines all this.

... And now it came true! He is rich, he has no end to customers, his wife bathes in luxury. In their palace - a wonderful ball, a magic orchestra is playing - either humanoid musical instruments, or people similar to instruments. Pairs of young people are circling, admiringly talking: what an honor it is for them to be at the Man's ball.

A man enters - he has aged noticeably. He paid for wealth with years of his life. His wife has also grown old. With them, in a solemn procession through a suite of shining rooms, numerous friends with white roses in their buttonholes and no less number of enemies of Man with yellow roses go. Young couples, interrupting the dance, follow everyone to a fabulous feast.

…He became impoverished again. The fashion for his creations has passed. Friends and enemies helped him squander his accumulated fortune. Now only rats are running around the palace, there have been no guests here for a long time. The house is dilapidated, no one buys it. The man's son dies. The man and his wife kneel and pray to the One who stood motionless in the far corner: she - with a humble maternal prayer, he - with a demand for justice. This is not a filial complaint, but a conversation between man and man, father with Father, old man with old man.

“Is it necessary to love submissive flatterers more than brave and proud people?” the Man asks. And not a word is heard in response. The Son of Man is dying, which means that his prayer has not been heard! A man proclaims curses to someone who is watching him from the corner of the stage.

“I curse everything that You have given! I curse the day I was born and the day I die! I curse myself - eyes, hearing, tongue, heart - and I throw all this into Your cruel face! And with my curse - I conquer You! .. "

... Drunkards and old women in the tavern are surprised: there is a Man sitting at the table, drinking little, but sitting a lot! What would that mean? Drunken delirium is interspersed with remarks, born, it seems, in the fading consciousness of a Man - echoes of the past, an echo of his whole life.

There are musicians - both those and not those that once played at balls in the Palace of Man. It is difficult to understand whether they are or not, how difficult it is to remember the past life and everything that a Person has lost - a son, wife, friends, home, wealth, fame, life itself ...

The old women are circling around the table, at which the Man sits with bowed head. Their dance parodies the wonderful dance of young ladies at the old ball at the Man's.

In the face of death, he stands up to his full height, throwing back his beautiful gray head, and sharply, loudly, desperately shouts out - asking either the sky, or drunkards, or spectators, or Someone in gray:

"Where is my squire? Where is my sword? Where is my shield?

Someone in gray looks at the stub of the candle - it is about to blink for the last time and go out. "I'm disarmed!" - the Man exclaims, and darkness surrounds him.

Leonid Andreev is a Russian writer and artist. He wrote not so many works and lived a short life. But the name of this author stands alone in the history of Russian literature. He doesn't look like anyone. His prose is amazing and makes you think. The works of this extraordinary author want to re-read again and again. The life and work of Leonid Andreev is the topic of the article.

Childhood

Leonid Andreev, whose stories are imbued with deep philosophy, was born in Orel on Pushkarnaya Street - the same one where his characters Geraska and Bergamot lived. In the year when the future writer was born, some financial stability finally reigned in the family of a land surveyor-taxator.

Nikolai Ivanovich Andreev - the father of the prose writer - was distinguished by a firm and decisive character. He was respected by everyone in the district for his extraordinary sense of justice, to which he was faithful, even while in a drunken stupor. Nikolai Ivanovich, like his son later, had a craving for alcohol.

Love for creativity Leonid Andreev inherited from his mother. Anastasia Nikolaevna, although she was an illiterate woman, knew how to compose extraordinary stories and stories, which pleased her offspring a lot.

As a schoolboy, Leonid demonstrated an extraordinary gift for words. He often wrote school essays for your friends. He was remarkably able to recreate the style of great writers. But his real passion was drawing. Leonid Andreev, perhaps, would have become an outstanding artist. But there was nowhere to study painting in Orel at that time. The writer throughout his life from time to time returned to his hobby.

Reading prompted Andreev to write. A serious attitude to the book developed in him when he was still a boy. His life consisted of fights with the neighboring gunner boys, drawing, the works of Jules Verne, Charles Dickens and Mine Reed. All this knowledge and impressions eventually poured out on paper. Such characters as Sasha from the work "Angel", Geraska and Bergamot were born.

Youth

Andreev's development as a writer was significantly influenced by the works of Schopenhauer. The World as Will and Representation was a reference book for him for many years. The future prose writer was barely seventeen when he made an entry in his diary in which he seemed to promise himself one day, thanks to his writing, to destroy the established canons, and even morality itself. He seemed to see himself already in the future - scandalous famous writer, author of The Abyss. After all, Leonid Andreev evoked rather contradictory feelings among his contemporaries. His stories, however, had not yet been created on the day when the legendary entry appeared in the diary, quotes from which are so often quoted by the writer's biographers.

Andreev Leonid Nikolaevich, whose biography includes several suicide attempts, prolonged alcoholic binges, was not able to lead a calm, measured life. In his youth, he suffered from constant love interests. Even then, he was monstrously attracted by two forces: love and death.

In the Soviet years, Leonid Andreev was forgotten. The biography of this writer was not of interest to literary critics, because his work did not fit into the framework established by the censors. Today, his books are again interested in readers. But even now they cause controversy. Suffice it to recall one of the stories written by Leonid Andreev. "Judas Iscariot" - the story of the most terrible villain in the history of Christianity - is provided so unexpectedly that, with all the talent of the author, it cannot cause exclusively positive reviews.

Student years

After graduating from high school, Andreev entered the Faculty of Law. But the training had to be interrupted. Unrequited love pushed the future novelist to attempt suicide. After recovering from emotional experiences and illness, he again entered the university. This time in Moscow.

Leonid Andreev in his student years, unlike most of his peers, had little interest in politics. He was not involved in banned organizations. But he spent a lot of time reading Nietzsche. So much so that the death of the German philosopher in 1900 was almost a personal tragedy for him.

Once during the holidays, while in Orel, Andreev met a girl. A romance began, which, like the previous one, ended in the betrayal of his beloved. And the young man again tried to commit suicide. This time, the attempt almost failed. This case had Negative consequences. Andreev until the end of his days suffered from a chronic heart disease acquired after a suicide attempt.

The beginning of creativity

After passing the state exams, Leonid Andreev found a job as an assistant lawyer. He had to write boring court reports. But even this he did not like his colleagues. His notes and reports were distinguished by a lively literary language. It was then that Leonid Andreev began his journey in literature.

His works were first published in the magazine "Courier". Then he begins to write for the Moscow Bulletin. Leonid Andreev, whose life was very stormy from a young age, was in constant search of himself. His outlook was changing, which can be seen by comparing early and later compositions. But the theme of Christianity and forgiveness always interested him.

"Bergamot and Geraska"

This story was published in 1898 by order of The Courier. The work was published in the Easter issue. The story is about two very different people. One of them is a sentry, executive, but a stupid person. Another - Geraska - a mysterious creature. No one knows exactly where and on what he lives. Few of the residents of Pushkarnaya Street, where he lives, have ever seen him sober. In addition, Geraska steals. That is why he often walks beaten.

The story takes place on Easter. Bergamot is on duty. He dreams about when the working day will end and he will go home, where his beloved wife and little son are waiting. But the holiday is defiled by the sudden appearance of Gerask: dirty, drunk, worthless, obscenely cursing. Bergamot should have taken him to the station. But on the bright day of Easter, something happens in his soul. Instead of sending this unfortunate man to jail, the sentry takes him to his home, puts him at the festive table.

This story can be called Andreev's literary debut. It was after the publication of this work that Maxim Gorky turned to him. A few months later, the author of The Song of the Petrel asked the young writer to send a “good story” to the senior editor of one of the most popular literary magazines at that time. So "Petka in the country" was published.

From jurisprudence to literature

At the time when Andreev's first stories were being read by Muscovites, he was still working in a law office. Last time he acted as a defender in 1900. Soon he made the final decision to engage in literary work. His last speech was approved by fellow lawyers. Despite this, Andreev left the practice of law forever.

As you know, a writer needs not only readers, but also critics. Having freed himself from his unloved work, Andreev began to regularly attend literary evenings. He met Bunin, Kuprin and other prose writers. More experienced writers gave advice, sometimes very severely criticized. All this was necessary for the young prose writer. He completely plunged into the world of literature. And already in 1901 the first collection of his stories was published.

Glory

After the publication of the first book, Leonid Andreev became famous. The collection has been reprinted four times. Prominent literary critics left laudatory reviews. This collection did not include the works, thanks to which Leonid Andreev is so loved by modern readers. "Judas Iscariot", "Diary of Satan" - all this was much later. Small prose works that glorified the novice writer are stories about ordinary people, stories with a simple plot.

Andreev told about what he saw in Orel and in Moscow. He told readers ordinary stories, but singled out the main thing from them. And, of course, critics appreciated his lively literary language. So, what stories are included in the collection?

“Once upon a time”, “Angel”, “Silence”, “Valya”, “Alyosha the Fool”, “Bitter” - all these are works that served as the basis for the writing career of the hero of this article. It is worth talking about each of them in more detail and you can start with an essay that Leonid Andreev wrote for both children and adults.

"Angel"

Leonid Andreev, whose analysis of his work confirms his original thinking, as well as the influence of philosophers such as Nietzsche and Schopenhauer, entered literature thanks to works in which the so-called image of the little man, created by Pushkin, plays a significant role. The story "Angel" tells about a boy from a poor family. About a little man who was destined to grow up too soon.

Sasha's father - the main character of the story - drinks heavily. The mother is not inferior to her husband in this. Sasha is left to himself, and therefore behaves like an adult. This boy resembles an embittered wolf cub. He is not used to tenderness and attention. Mother is rude. The father is a weak person. Sasha does not evoke sympathy among strangers.

One day he is invited to Christmas children's holiday, where he sees a wonderful toy on the Christmas tree - a wax figure in the shape of an angel. There is some pleasant excitement in Sasha's soul. He feels that he needs this angel.

The feelings of the boy, who is deprived of the care of his parents and irritates his teachers, are reminiscent of the experiences of Geraska from another Andreev's work. A resident of Pushkarnaya Street suddenly begins to cry during an Easter dinner. Why did he suddenly become so sensitive? The fact is that Bergamot's wife called him by name and patronymic. For a long long-suffering life, no one addressed him in this way. Also, Sasha, seeing a wonderful toy, suddenly softens, stops being rude. His soul seems to thaw. Sasha brings the little angel home and, together with his father, examines the Christmas toy for a long time.

But Andreev would not be himself if he ended this story on a bright, optimistic note. Sasha falls asleep and at night the wax angel melts. By this, the author seems to make it clear that the unfortunate little man will forever remain so. Enlightenment in his life is a temporary phenomenon.

"Once upon a time, there were"

The merchant Lavrentiy Kosheverov was an evil, envious man. And, even being, as they say, on his deathbed, he did not relent. The hero of the story "Once Upon a Time" - a merchant, a deacon and a student - are in the hospital. They are terminally ill. But each of them looks into the eyes of death differently.

One is angry at the injustice of life that is leaving him. The other humbly awaits his death. The third believes that death will bypass him. Andreev portrayed the characters of people, how they state of mind changes after the announcement of a terrible diagnosis. The prose writer wrote this story when he was just beginning to live. Behind him were three suicide attempts. But he managed to amazingly vividly describe the experiences of a person who, suffering from an incurable disease, cries only for the sun, which he will never see again.

The story "Silence" tells of the mysterious suicide of a priest's daughter. In "Alyosha the Fool" we are talking about a vague feeling of injustice creeping into a child's soul. Whoever Andreev wrote about, he was always extremely sincere. His stories are so piercing, as if he happened to live the life of each of his heroes.

Among the works written by Leonid Andreev, "Kusaka" is one of the few included in school curriculum. The story is dedicated to a dog that lives on the street and has the opportunity to observe human cruelty in its extreme manifestation.

"Abyss"

Andreev supplemented the second edition of the collection with stories in which Nietzsche's influence was felt. Its heroes find themselves in a situation that changes their consciousness. It is as if another person wakes up in them - a terrible one, following the lead of his bestial instincts.

The stories "Abyss", "Nabat", "Wall", published in 1902, confirmed that Andreev as a writer was fully formed. The works caused controversy and discussion. In them, the author said about what not only should be silent, but also not desirable to think about.

In The Abyss, we are talking about a terrible event that happened to young people. A schoolgirl and a student are walking in the evening. Their conversation deals only with lofty topics. Thoughts, it would seem, are also extremely pure. But on the way they meet the dregs of society. These people destroy the atmosphere of purity and romance. And having become a victim of their attack, a student who not so long ago read poetry and talked about science and art suddenly turns into a creature for whom instincts are above all.

"The Life of Basil of Thebes"

At the beginning of his career, a critical analysis of the modern social world for Andreev was in the first place. But later skepticism became noticeable. The writer became interested in spiritualism, which was fashionable at that time. Reading his works, one gets the impression that he was tormented by constant doubts about faith.

In the story of the life of "Basil of Thebes" he depicted the fate of a righteous man. The hero of this work meekly fulfills his duty. Basil of Thebes is a priest. But the parishioners do not want to listen to his sermons. Tragedies one after another destroy the peace in his house. The son dies, the wife becomes an inveterate drunkard, then a sick child is born. And Vasily, being a clergyman, suddenly begins to think about whether God sees him, whether he hears his prayers.

"Notes of an Unknown"

Works that Leonid Andreev created at a later stage of his work:

"Judas Iscariot".
"Satan's Diary"
Sasha Zhegulev.
"He. Notes of the Unknown»

Something gloomy and incomprehensible is present on the pages of Leonid Andreev's works. The story “He”, published in 1913, is filled with vague pessimism. It’s unclear, because as soon as in the end the reader begins to understand that Andreev’s hero is sick, and most of from what he describes, he imagines.

The hero of this work is a poor student. He receives a lucrative job offer. And then he goes abroad. There he should take up the duties of a teacher. His pupils are strange children. They play as if under duress, laugh as if on command. They are like adults playing the role of children. But the main oddity of the house in which the poor student finds himself is a man who increasingly looks out the window.

The narration in Notes of an Unknown is in the first person. The author shows thus internal state a person who is slowly losing his mind. The man in the window looks at the hero more and more often. Children are becoming more unbearable in his eyes. At the conclusion of this work, the teacher dies. What caused his madness remains a mystery.

"Judas Iscariot"

Andreev wrote this story in just two weeks. Maxim Gorky, after reading the work, said that not everyone would understand it and would cause a lot of noise. And so it happened.

Andreev's Judas is, of course, an extremely negative hero. But at the same time, very unhappy. The apostles in the story of the Russian writer are ordinary people who are not alien to such a vice as cowardice. Such an interpretation could not but cause controversy and discontent on the part of deeply religious people. However, the book has been translated into French, German, English languages, and filmed several times by Western and Russian filmmakers.

It should also list other works created by the writer on different stages creativity.

"In the fog".
"Signs".
"Marseillaise".
"Son of Man".
"My notes".
"Red Laughter"
"The Tale of the Seven Hanged Men".
"Yoke of War".

Last years

Leonid Andreev did not accept the revolution. Moreover, he had an extreme dislike for the Bolshevik government. The last years the writer spent in Finland. Books written in exile are permeated with a special pessimism. Among them is "Satan's Diary", the story of the Devil, who, being among mortals, was amazed and oppressed by the insidiousness of ordinary people.

Leonid Andreev, whose books were temporarily forgotten, today again arouses the interest of both literary critics and readers. He is called a prominent representative of the Silver Age of Russian literature. In 1956, a museum dedicated to his work was created in the small homeland of the writer.

Writer Leonid Andreev died in Finland in 1919 from a heart attack. Buried in a small Finnish town.

Prologue

Someone in gray, called He talks about the life of a person. Like a large, properly quadrangular, completely empty room, with no door or windows. Everything in it is gray, smoky, monochrome: gray walls, gray ceiling, gray floor. An even, weak light pours from an invisible source - and it is just as gray, monotonous, one-color, ghostly and does not give any shadows or light reflections. Someone in gray clinging to it inaudibly separates from the wall. He is wearing a wide, shapeless gray robe, vaguely outlining the contours of a large body; on His head is the same gray veil, covering the upper part of the face with a thick shadow. His eyes are not visible. What is visible: the cheekbones, the nose, the steep chin, is large and heavy, as if carved from gray stone. His lips are firmly compressed. Raising his head slightly, He begins to speak in a firm, cold voice, devoid of excitement and passion, like a hired reader reading the Book of Fates with severe indifference.

“Look and listen, those who have come here for fun and laughter. Here the whole life of a Man will pass before you, with its dark beginning and dark end. Hitherto non-existent, mysteriously buried in the boundlessness of time, not conceivable, not felt, not known by anyone - he mysteriously breaks the gates of non-existence and with a cry heralds the beginning of his short life. In the night of non-existence, a lamp will flash, lit by an unknown hand - this is the life of a Human. Look at its flame - this is the life of a Man.

Having been born, he will take on the image and name of a man and in everything will become like other people already living on earth. And their cruel fate will be his fate, and his cruel fate will be the fate of all people. Irresistibly drawn by time, he will inevitably go through all the stages of human life, from bottom to top, from top to bottom. Limited by sight, he will never see the next step, on which his unsteady foot is already ascending; limited by knowledge, he will never know what the coming day brings him, the coming hour-minute. And in his blind ignorance, tormented by forebodings, agitated by hopes and fear, he will obediently complete the circle of iron destiny.

Here he is - a happy young man. Look how bright the candle burns! The icy wind of boundless spaces whirls and roams helplessly, swaying the flame - the candle burns brightly and brightly. But the wax eaten up by fire decreases. But the wax is waning.

Here he is - a happy husband and father. But look how dimly and strangely the candle flickers: it is as if the yellowing flame is wrinkling, as if it were shivering and hiding from the cold. For the wax consumed by the fire melts. Because the wax is melting.

Here he is - an old man, sick and weak. The steps of life have already ended, and a black hole is in their place, but a trembling leg still stretches forward. Bending down to the ground, a blue flame spreads helplessly, trembles and falls, trembles and falls - and goes out quietly.

This is how Man dies. Coming from the night, he will return to the night and disappear without a trace in the infinity of time, not conceivable, not felt, not known by anyone. And I, the one whom everyone calls He, will remain a faithful companion of Man in all the days of his life, in all his ways. Not visible to Man and those close to him, I will always be near when he wakes and sleeps, when he prays and curses. In the hours of joy, when his free and courageous spirit soars high, in the hours of despondency and melancholy, when the soul is clouded with mortal languor and the blood freezes in the heart, in the hours of victories and defeats, in the hours of the great struggle with the immutable - I will be with him. I will be with him.

And you, who have come here for fun, you, doomed to death, look and listen: here with a distant and ghostly echo we will pass before you, with its sorrows and joys, the fleeting life of Man.

Someone in gray is silent. And in silence the light goes out, and darkness embraces Him and the gray empty room.

The curtain falls

Picture one
The birth of a man and the pain of a mother

Deep darkness in which everything is still. Like a bunch of gray lurking mice, the gray silhouettes of Old Women in strange veils and the outlines of a large high room are vaguely outlined. In low voices, laughing, the Old Women are talking.

The conversation of the old women

- I would like to know what will be born to our friend: a son or a daughter?

"Don't you care?"

- I like boys.

- I love girls. They always sit at home and wait for you to come to them.

- Do you like visiting?

The old women laugh softly.

- He knows.

Silence.

Our friend would like to have a girl. She says that the boys are too violent, adventurous and looking for danger. When they are small, they love to climb tall trees and swim in deep water. And often fall and often drown. And when they become men, they arrange wars and kill each other.

She thinks girls don't drown. But I saw a lot of drowned girls, and they were like all drowned people: wet and green.

“She thinks stones don’t kill girls!”

“Poor thing, it’s so hard for her to give birth. We've been sitting here for sixteen hours now, and she's still screaming. At first she screamed loudly, so that it hurt her ears from her scream, then quieter, and now she only wheezes and groans.

The doctor says she will die.

- No, the doctor says that the child will be dead, but she herself will remain alive.

Why are they giving birth? It is so painful.

- Why do they die? It hurts even more.

The old women laugh softly.

- Yes. They give birth and die.

And they give birth again.

They laugh. The silent cry of a suffering woman is heard.

- It started again.

- This is good.

- Poor husband: he is so confused that it is ridiculous to look at him. Before, he rejoiced at his wife's pregnancy and said that he wanted a boy. He thinks that his son will be a minister or a general. Now he wants nothing, neither a boy nor a girl, and only rushes about and cries.

“When she goes into labor, he pushes himself and blushes.

- He was sent to the pharmacy for medicine, and he drove past the pharmacy for two hours and could not remember what he needed. And so he returned.

The old women laugh softly. The scream gets louder and stops. Silence.

- What's wrong with her? Perhaps she is already dead?

- Not. Then we would have heard the cry. Then the doctor would run in here and start talking nonsense. Then her husband, who had lost his senses, would have been brought here, and we would have had to work. No, she didn't die.

"Then why are we sitting here?"

– Ask Him. Do we know?

He won't say.

He won't say. He doesn't say anything.

- He pushes us around. He gets us out of bed and makes us guard, and then it turns out that it was not necessary to come.

- We ourselves came. Didn't we ourselves come? You need to be fair. Here she is screaming again. Is this not enough for you?

– Are you satisfied?

- I am silent. I am silent and waiting.

- How kind you are!

They laugh. The screams get louder.

How she screams! How it hurts!

Do you know this pain? The insides are torn apart.

We all gave birth.

“That sounds more like the howl of an animal.” Feel the night in this cry.

- One feels an endless dark forest, and hopelessness, and fear.

- There is a sense of loneliness and sadness. Isn't there anyone near her? Why are there no other voices than this wild cry?

They speak, but you can't hear them. You have noticed how lonely the cry of a person is always: everyone is talking, and you can’t hear them, but one is shouting, and it seems that everything else is silent and listening.

- I once heard a man shouting, whose leg was crushed by a carriage. The street was full of people, but it seemed that he was the only one.

“But it's scarier.

- Louder, tell me.

- Longer, perhaps.

- No, it's worse. Death is felt here.

“And there was death. He died.

- Do not argue! Don't you care?

Silence. Scream.

How strange the man screams. When you yourself hurt and scream, you don’t notice how strange it is - how strange it is.

“I can't imagine a mouth making those sounds. Is that a woman's mouth? I can not imagine.

“But it feels like he's screwed up.

“At some depth, sound is born. Now it looks like the cry of a drowning man. Listen, she's choking!

“Someone heavy sat on her chest!”

“Someone is strangling her!”

The screams are silent.

- Finally, she stopped. It's boring. The scream is so monotonous and ugly.

“And you would like beauty here too, wouldn’t you?”

The old women laugh softly.

- Quiet! He is here?

- I do not know.

- Looks like it's here.

He doesn't like laughter.

- They say that He laughs himself.

- Who saw it? You are just spreading rumours: there are so many lies about Him.

- He hears us. Let's be serious!

They laugh softly.

“Still, I would really like to know if it will be a boy or a girl?”

“It's really interesting to know who you're dealing with.

“I would like it to die without being born.

- How kind you are!

- No better than you.

“And I would like it to be a general.”

- You're too funny! I do not like it.

“But I don’t like that you are so gloomy.

- Do not argue! Don't argue! We are all funny and gloomy. Let each be as she wants.

Silence.

When they are born, they are very funny. Funny cubs.

- Self-satisfied.

- And very demanding. I do not like them. They immediately begin to scream and demand, as if everything should be ready for them. They don’t look yet, but they already know that there is breast and milk, and they demand them. Then they demand to be put to bed. Then they demand to be rocked and softly spanked on the red back. I love them more when they die, then they are less demanding. It will stretch itself and does not ask to be rocked.

No, they are very funny. I love to wash them when they are born.

“I like to wash them when they are dead.

- Do not argue! Don't argue! Everyone will have his own: one will wash when she is born, the other when she dies.

“But why do they think they have the right to claim as soon as they are born?” I do not like it.

They don't think. This is what the stomach needs.

They always demand!

But they never give them.

The old women laugh softly. The screams behind the wall resume.

- He screams again.

- Animals give birth easier.

And they die easier. And life is easier. I have a cat: if you could see how fat and happy she is.

- I have a dog. I tell her every day: you will die! - and she grins her teeth and twirls her tail merrily.

“But they are animals.

“And these are people.

Either she dies or gives birth. One can feel the last strength in this cry. Protruding eyes…

Cold sweat on forehead...

She will give birth!

No, she's dying.

The screams are cut off.

- I'm telling you...

Someone in gray(speaks loudly and authoritatively). Quiet! The man was born.

Almost simultaneously with His words, the cry of a child is brought, and the candle in His hand flares up. High, it burns uncertainly and weakly, but gradually the fire becomes stronger. The corner in which it stands motionless Someone in gray, always darker than others, and the yellow flame of a candle illuminates his sharp chin, firmly compressed lips and large bony cheeks. The upper part of the face is covered with a veil. He is slightly taller than normal human height. The candle is long, thick, set in an old-fashioned candlestick. On the green of the bronze His hand stands out, gray, hard, with thin long fingers.

It slowly brightens, and out of the darkness emerge the figures of five hunched old women in strange covers and a room. It is tall, correctly quadrangular, with smooth walls of one color. Ahead and to the right, two high eight-glass windows, without curtains; night looks through the glass. There are chairs with high straight backs against the walls.

old women(hurriedly). Hear how they ran! They're coming here.

- How light! We're leaving.

“Look, the candle is tall and bright.

- We're leaving! We're leaving! Quicker!

- But we will come! But we will come!

They laugh quietly and in the twilight with strange, zigzag movements slip away, laughing. With their departure, the light intensifies, but in general remains dim, lifeless, cold; the corner in which it stands motionless Someone in gray with a burning candle, darker than others.

Included Doctor in a white hospital robe and Father of Man. The face of the latter expresses deep weariness and joy. Blue circles under the eyes, sunken cheeks, hair in disarray. Dressed very casually. The Doctor has a very learned look.

Doctor. Before last minute I didn't know if your wife would live or not. I have used all art and knowledge, but our art means so little if nature itself does not come to the rescue. And I was very worried, my pulse is still beating like that. I have already helped so many children to come into the world, but even now I cannot get rid of my excitement. But you don't listen to me, sir.

father of man. I listen, but I don't hear anything. I still have her cry in my ears, and I don't understand well. Poor woman, how she suffered! Mad, stupid, I so wanted to have children, but now I give up this criminal desire.

Doctor. You will still call me when your next one is born.

Father. No never. I'm ashamed to say, but now I hate the child, because of which she suffered so much. I didn't even see him, what is he like?

Doctor. He is a well-fed, strong boy and, if I am not mistaken, looks like you.

Father. Looks like me? How happy I am! Now I'm starting to love him. I always wanted to have a boy and be like me. You saw: he has a nose like mine, don't you?

Doctor. Yes, nose and eyes.

Father. And eyes? It's so good! I'll pay you more than what I've been charged.

Doctor. You owe me a special payment for the tongs I put on.

Father(referring to the corner where He stands motionless). God! Thank you for fulfilling my wish and giving me a son like me. I thank you that my wife did not die and my child lives. And I ask you: make sure that he grows up big, healthy and strong, that he is smart and honest, and that he never upsets us: me and his mother. If you do this, I will always believe in you and go to church. Now I love my son very much.

Relatives enter. There are six of them. Extraordinarily thick old lady with a drooping chin and small haughty eyes, extremely important and proud. old gentleman, her husband, is very long and unusually thin, so that the dress hangs on him. A goatee with a pointed beard, long, shoulder-length, smooth, as if wet, hair and glasses; looks frightened and at the same time instructive; in his hand he holds a hat - a low black top hat. young girl, their daughter, with a naively upturned nose, blinking eyes and an open mouth. skinny lady having an extremely oppressed and sour appearance; He holds a handkerchief in his hands and often wipes his mouth with it. two boys completely solemn; unusually high collars, stretching the neck, sleek hair, an expression of bewilderment and confusion. All the indicated properties in each of their owners reach their extreme development.

old lady. Allow me, dear brother, to congratulate you on the birth of your son. (Kisses him.)

old gentleman. Let me, dear relative, heartily congratulate you on the birth of your long-awaited son. (Kisses.)

Rest. Let us, dear relative, congratulate you on the birth of your son. (Kiss T.)

The Doctor leaves.

Father(very moved). Thank you! Thank you! You are all very good, very kind and nice people, and I love you very much. Before, I had doubts and thought that you, dear sister, were a little preoccupied with yourself and your virtues, while you, dear son-in-law, were a little pedantic. And about the rest, I thought that they were cold towards me and only go to dinner, but now I see that I was mistaken. I am very happy: I have a son who looks like me, and besides, I immediately see so many good people who love me.

They kiss.

young girl. What will you name your son, dear uncle? I would really like it to be a beautiful, poetic name. So much depends on the name of the person.

old lady. I would like it to be a simple and solid name. People with beautiful names always very frivolous and rarely have time in life.

old gentleman. It seems to me that you, dear brother-in-law, should name your son after some of the older relatives. This continues and strengthens the family.

Father. Yes, my wife and I already thought about it, but could not decide. In general, with the birth of a child comes so many new thoughts and worries!

old lady. It fills life.

old gentleman. It sets a great goal for life. By educating the child, removing from him the mistakes of which we have been victims, strengthening his mind with our own rich experience, we thus create the best person and slowly but surely we are moving towards the ultimate goal of existence - towards perfection.

Father. You are absolutely right, dear son-in-law. When I was little, I really liked to torture animals, and this developed cruelty in me. I will not allow my son to torture animals. Even as an adult, I often made mistakes in friendship and love: I chose unworthy friends and treacherous women. I will explain to my son...

Doctor(enters and speaks loudly). Sir, your wife is very ill. She wants to see you.

Father. Oh my god! (Exits with the doctor.)

Relatives sit in a semicircle and for some time solemnly remain silent. In the corner, turning his stony face to them, stands motionless Someone in gray.

Human Life
Leonid Nikolaevich Andreev

Plays
The play was first staged at the Drama Theater of V. Komissarzhevskaya (Petersburg) on February 22, 1907. Directed by V.E. Meyerhold. On December 12, 1907, the premiere took place at the Moscow Art Theater. Staging by K.S. Stanislavsky and L.A. Sulerzhitsky.

Leonid Andreev

Human Life

SOMEONE IN GRAY, called HE, speaks about the life of a Man. Like a large, properly quadrangular, completely empty room, with no door or windows. Everything in it is gray, smoky, monochrome: gray walls, gray ceiling, gray floor. An even, weak light pours from an invisible source - and it is just as gray, monotonous, one-color, ghostly and does not give any shadows or light reflections. Someone in gray clinging to it inaudibly separates from the wall. He is wearing a wide, shapeless gray robe, vaguely outlining the contours of a large body; on His head is the same gray veil, covering the upper part of the face with a thick shadow. His eyes are not visible. What is visible: the cheekbones, the nose, the steep chin, is large and heavy, as if carved from gray stone. His lips are firmly compressed. Raising his head slightly, He begins to speak in a firm, cold voice, devoid of excitement and passion, like a hired reader reading the Book of Fates with severe indifference.

“Look and listen, those who have come here for fun and laughter. Here the whole life of a Man will pass before you, with its dark beginning and dark end. Hitherto non-existent, mysteriously buried in the infinity of time, not conceivable, not felt, not known by anyone - he will mysteriously break the gates of non-existence and cry out to announce the beginning of his short life. In the night of non-existence, a lamp will flash, lit by an unknown hand - this is the life of a Human. Look at its flame - this is the life of a Man.

This is how Man dies. Coming from the night, he will return to the night and disappear without a trace in the infinity of time, not conceivable, not felt, not known by anyone. And I, the one whom everyone calls He, will remain a faithful companion of Man in all the days of his life, in all his ways. Unseen by Man and his relatives, I will always be near when he is awake and asleep, when he prays and curses. In the hours of joy, when his free and courageous spirit soars high, in the hours of despondency and melancholy, when the soul is clouded with mortal languor and the blood freezes in the heart, in the hours of victories and defeats, in the hours of the great struggle with the immutable - I will be with him. I will be with him.

And you, who have come here for fun, you, doomed to death, look and listen: here with a distant and ghostly echo we will pass before you, with its sorrows and joys, the fleeting life of Man.

Someone in gray is silent. And in silence the light goes out, and darkness embraces Him and the gray empty room.

THE CURTAIN FALLS

Picture one

The birth of a man and the pain of a mother

The conversation of the old women

- I would like to know what will be born to our friend: a son or a daughter?

"Don't you care?"

- I like boys.

- I love girls. They always sit at home and wait for you to come to them.

- Do you like visiting?

The old women laugh softly.

- He knows.

Silence.

She thinks girls don't drown. But I saw a lot of drowned girls, and they were like all drowned people: wet and green.

“She thinks stones don’t kill girls!”

The doctor says she will die.

- No, the doctor says that the child will be dead, but she herself will remain alive.

Why are they giving birth? It is so painful.

- Why do they die? It hurts even more.

The old women laugh softly.

- Yes. They give birth and die.

And they give birth again.

They laugh. The silent cry of a suffering woman is heard.

- It started again.

- This is good.

“When she goes into labor, he pushes himself and blushes.

- He was sent to the pharmacy for medicine, and he drove past the pharmacy for two hours and could not remember what he needed. And so he returned.

The old women laugh softly. The scream gets louder and stops. Silence.

- What's wrong with her? Perhaps she is already dead?

"Then why are we sitting here?"

– Ask Him. Do we know?

He won't say.

He won't say. He doesn't say anything.

- He pushes us around. He gets us out of bed and makes us guard, and then it turns out that it was not necessary to come.

- We ourselves came. Didn't we ourselves come? You need to be fair. Here she is screaming again. Is this not enough for you?

– Are you satisfied?

- I am silent. I am silent and waiting.

- How kind you are!

They laugh. The screams get louder.

How she screams! How it hurts!

Do you know this pain? The insides are torn apart.

We all gave birth.

“That sounds more like the howl of an animal.” Feel the night in this cry.

- One feels an endless dark forest, and hopelessness, and fear.

- There is a sense of loneliness and sadness. Isn't there anyone near her? Why are there no other voices than this wild cry?

- I once heard a man shouting, whose leg was crushed by a carriage. The street was full of people, but it seemed that he was the only one.

“But it's scarier.

- Louder, tell me.

- Longer, perhaps.

- No, it's worse. Death is felt here.

“And there was death. He died.

- Do not argue! Don't you care?

Silence. Scream.

- How strange a person screams "When you yourself are in pain and screaming, you do not notice how strange it is - how strange it is.

“I can't imagine a mouth making those sounds. Is that a woman's mouth? I can not imagine.

“But it feels like he's screwed up.

“At some depth, sound is born. Now it looks like the cry of a drowning man. Listen, she's choking!

“Someone heavy sat on her chest!”

“Someone is strangling her!”

The screams are silent.

- Finally, she stopped. It's boring. The scream is so monotonous and ugly.

“And you would like beauty here too, wouldn’t you?”

The old women laugh softly.

- Quiet! He is here?

- I do not know.

- Looks like it's here.

He doesn't like laughter.

- They say that He laughs himself.

- Who saw it? You are just spreading rumours: there are so many lies about Him.

- He hears us. Let's be serious!

They laugh softly.

“Still, I would really like to know if it will be a boy or a girl?”

“It's really interesting to know who you're dealing with.

“I would like it to die without being born.

- How kind you are!

- No better than you.

“And I would like it to be a general.”

- You're too funny! I do not like it.

“But I don’t like that you are so gloomy.

- Do not argue! Don't argue! We are all funny and gloomy. Let each be as she wants.

Silence.

When they are born, they are very funny. Funny cubs.

- Self-satisfied.

No, they are very funny. I love to wash them when they are born.

“I like to wash them when they are dead.

- Do not argue! Don't argue! Everyone will have his own: one will wash when she is born, the other when she dies.

“But why do they think they have the right to claim as soon as they are born?” I do not like it.

They don't think. This is what the stomach needs.

They always demand!

But they never give them.

The old women laugh softly. The screams behind the wall resume.

- He screams again.

- Animals give birth easier.

And they die easier. And life is easier. I have a cat: if you could see how fat and happy she is.

- I have a dog. I tell her every day: you will die! - and she grins her teeth and twirls her tail merrily.

“But they are animals.

“And these are people.

Either she dies or gives birth. One can feel the last strength in this cry. Protruding eyes…

Cold sweat on forehead...

She will give birth!

No, she's dying.

The screams are cut off.

- I'm telling you...

SOMEONE IN GRAY (speaks loudly and authoritatively). Quiet! The man was born.

Almost simultaneously with His words, the cry of a child is brought, and the candle in His hand flares up. High, it burns uncertainly and weakly, but gradually the fire becomes stronger. The corner in which SOMEONE IN GRAY stands motionless is always darker than the others, and the yellow flame of the candle illuminates his steep chin, firmly compressed lips and large bony cheeks. The upper part of the face is covered with a veil. He is slightly taller than normal human height. The candle is long, thick, set in an old-fashioned candlestick. On the green of the bronze His hand stands out, gray, hard, with thin long fingers.

It slowly brightens, and the figures of five hunched OLD WOMEN in strange veils and a room emerge from the darkness. It is tall, correctly quadrangular, with smooth walls of one color. Ahead and to the right, two high eight-glass windows, without curtains; night looks through the glass. There are chairs with high straight backs against the walls.

OLD WOMEN (hurriedly). Hear how they ran! They're coming here.

- How light! We're leaving.

“Look, the candle is tall and bright.

- We're leaving! We're leaving! Quicker!

- But we will come! But we will come!

They laugh quietly and in the twilight with strange, zigzag movements slip away, laughing. With their departure, the light intensifies, but in general remains dim, lifeless, cold; the corner where SOMEONE IN GRAY stands motionless with a burning candle is darker than the others.

The DOCTOR in a white hospital robe enters, and the FATHER OF MAN. The face of the latter expresses deep weariness and joy. Blue circles under the eyes, sunken cheeks, hair in disarray. Dressed very casually. The Doctor has a very learned look.

DOCTOR. Until the last minute, I did not know whether your wife would survive or not. I have used all art and knowledge, but our art means so little if nature itself does not come to the rescue. And I was very worried, my pulse is still beating like that. I have already helped so many children to come into the world, but even now I cannot get rid of my excitement. But you don't listen to me, sir.

THE FATHER OF MAN. I listen, but I don't hear anything. I still have her cry in my ears, and I don't understand well. Poor woman, how she suffered! Mad, stupid, I so wanted to have children, but now I give up this criminal desire.

DOCTOR. You will still call me when your next one is born.

FATHER. No never. I'm ashamed to say, but now I hate the child, because of which she suffered so much. I didn't even see him, what is he like?

DOCTOR. He is a well-fed, strong boy and, if I am not mistaken, looks like you.

FATHER. Looks like me? How happy I am! Now I'm starting to love him. I always wanted to have a boy and be like me. You saw: he has a nose like mine, don't you?

DOCTOR. Yes, nose and eyes.

FATHER. And eyes? It's so good! I'll pay you more than what I've been charged.

DOCTOR. You owe me a special payment for the tongs I put on.

FATHER (referring to the corner where He stands motionless). God! Thank you for fulfilling my wish and giving me a son like me. I thank you that my wife did not die and my child lives. And I ask you: make sure that he grows up big, healthy and strong, that he is smart and honest, and that he never upsets us: me and his mother. If you do this, I will always believe in you and go to church. Now I love my son very much.