Anton Chekhov, in full Anton Pavlovich Chekhov (born January 29 [January 17, Old
Style], 1860, Taganrog, Russia—died July 14/15 [July 1/2], 1904, Badenweiler, Germany), Russian playwright and master of the
modern short
story. He was a literary artist
of laconic precision who probed below the surface of life, laying bare the
secret motives of his characters. Chekhov’s best plays and short stories lack complex plots and neat
solutions. Concentrating on apparent trivialities, they create a special kind
of atmosphere, sometimes termed haunting or lyrical. Chekhov described the
Russian life of his time using a deceptively simple technique devoid of
obtrusive literary devices, and he is regarded as the outstanding representative
of the late 19th-century Russian realist school.
Boyhood
and youth
Chekhov’s father was a
struggling grocer and pious martinet who had been born a serf. He compelled his
son to serve in his shop, also conscripting him into a church choir, which he
himself conducted. Despite the kindness of his mother, childhood remained a
painful memory to Chekhov, although it later proved to be a vivid and absorbing
experience that he often invoked in his works.
After briefly attending a
local school for Greek boys, Chekhov entered the town gimnaziya (high
school), where he remained for 10 years. There he received the best standard
education then available—thorough but unimaginative and based on the Greek and
Latin classics. During his last three years at school Chekhov lived alone and
supported himself by coaching younger boys; his father, having gone bankrupt,
had moved with the rest of his family to Moscow to make a fresh start.
In the autumn of 1879
Chekhov joined his family in Moscow, which was to be his main base until 1892.
He at once enrolled in the university’s medical faculty, graduating in 1884 as
a doctor. By that time he was already the economic mainstay of his family, for
his father could obtain only poorly paid employment. As unofficial head of the
family Anton showed great reserves of responsibility and energy, cheerfully supporting
his mother and the younger children through his freelance earnings as a
journalist and writer of comic sketches—work that he combined with arduous
medical studies and a busy social life.
Chekhov began his writing
career as the author of anecdotes for humorous journals, signing his early work
pseudonymously. By 1888 he had become widely popular with a “lowbrow” public
and had already produced a body of work more voluminous than all his later
writings put together. And he had, in the process, turned the short comic sketch of about 1,000 words into a minor art form. He
had also experimented in serious writing, providing studies of human misery and
despair strangely at variance with the frenzied facetiousness of his comic
work. Gradually that serious vein absorbed him and soon predominated over the
comic.
Literary
maturity
Chekhov’s literary progress
during his early 20s may be charted by the first appearance of his work in a
sequence of publications in the capital, St. Petersburg, each successive
vehicle being more serious and respected than its predecessor. Finally, in
1888, Chekhov published his first work in a leading literary review, Severny
vestnik (“Northern Herald”). With the work in question—a long story
entitled ““Steppe””—he at last turned his back on comic fiction.
“Steppe,” an autobiographical work describing a journey in the Ukraine as seen through the eyes of a child, is the
first among more than 50 stories published in a variety of journals and
selections between 1888 and his death in 1904. It is on that corpus of later
stories, but also on his mature dramas of the same period, that Chekhov’s main
reputation rests.
Although the year 1888
first saw Chekhov concentrating almost exclusively on short stories that were
serious in conception, humour—now underlying—nearly always remained an
important ingredient. There was also a concentration on quality at the expense
of quantity, the number of publications dropping suddenly from over a hundred
items a year in the peak years 1886 and 1887 to only 10 short stories in 1888.
Besides ““Steppe,”” Chekhov also wrote several profoundly tragic studies at
that time, the most notable of which was ““A
Dreary Story”” (1889), a
penetrating study into the mind of an elderly and dying professor of medicine.
The ingenuity and insight displayed in that tour de force was especially
remarkable, coming from an author so young. The play Ivanov (1887–89) culminates in the suicide of a young
man nearer to the author’s own age. Together with ““A Dreary Story,”” that
belongs to a group among Chekhov’s works that have been called clinical
studies. They explore the experiences of the mentally or physically ill in a
spirit that reminds one that the author was himself a qualified—and remained a
sporadically practicing—doctor.
By the late 1880s many
critics had begun to reprimand Chekhov, now that he was sufficiently well known
to attract their attention, for holding no firm political and social views and
for failing to endow his works with a sense of direction. Such expectations
irked Chekhov, who was unpolitical and philosophically uncommitted. In early
1890 he suddenly sought relief from the irritations of urban intellectual life
by undertaking a one-man sociological expedition to a remote island, Sakhalin. Situated nearly 6,000 miles (9,650 km) east of
Moscow, on the other side of Siberia, it was notorious as an imperial Russian penal
settlement. Chekhov’s journey there was a long and hazardous ordeal by carriage
and riverboat. After arriving unscathed, studying local conditions, and
conducting a census of the islanders, he returned to publish his findings as a
research thesis, which attained an honoured place in the annals of Russian
penology: The Island of Sakhalin (1893–94).
Chekhov paid his first
visit to western Europe in the company of A.S. Suvorin, a wealthy newspaper
proprietor and the publisher of much of Chekhov’s own work. Their long and
close friendship caused Chekhov some unpopularity, owing to the politically
reactionary character of Suvorin’s newspaper, Novoye vremya (“New
Time”). Eventually Chekhov broke with Suvorin over the attitude taken by the
paper toward the notorious Alfred
Dreyfus affair in France, with
Chekhov championing Dreyfus.
During the years just
before and after his Sakhalin expedition, Chekhov had continued his experiments
as a dramatist. His Wood
Demon (1888–89) is a
long-winded and ineptly facetious four-act play, which somehow, by a miracle of
art, became converted—largely by cutting—into Dyadya Vanya (Uncle
Vanya), one of his greatest
stage masterpieces. The conversion—to a superb study of aimlessness in a rural
manor house—took place some time between 1890 and 1896; the play was published
in 1897. Other dramatic efforts of the period include several of the uproarious
one-act farces known as vaudevilles: Medved (The Bear), Predlozheniye (The
Proposal), Svadba (The Wedding), Yubiley (The
Anniversary), and others.
Melikhovo
period: 1892–98
After helping, both as
doctor and as medical administrator, to relieve the disastrous famine of 1891–92 in Russia, Chekhov bought a country
estate in the village of Melikhovo, about 50 miles (80 km) south of Moscow. That
was his main residence for about six years, providing a home for his aging
parents, as also for his sister Mariya, who acted as his housekeeper and
remained unmarried in order to look after her brother. The Melikhovo period was
the most creatively effective of Chekhov’s life so far as short stories were
concerned, for it was during those six years that he wrote ““The Butterfly,””
““Neighbours”” (1892), ““An Anonymous Story”” (1893), ““The
Black Monk”” (1894),
““Murder,”” and ““Ariadne”” (1895), among many other masterpieces. Village life
now became a leading theme in his work, most notably in ““Peasants”” (1897). Undistinguished by plot, the short sequence
of brilliant sketches created more stir in Russia than any other single work of
Chekhov’s, partly owing to his rejection of the convention whereby writers
commonly presented the Russian peasantry in sentimentalized and debrutalized
form.
Continuing to provide many
portraits of the intelligentsia, Chekhov also described the commercial and
factory-owning world in such stories as ““A Woman’s Kingdom,”” (1894) and
““Three Years”” (1895). As has often been recognized, Chekhov’s work provides a
panoramic study of the Russia of his day, and one so accurate that it could
even be used as a sociological source.
In some of his stories of
the Melikhovo period, Chekhov attacked by implication the teachings of Leo
Tolstoy, the well-known novelist
and thinker, and Chekhov’s revered elder contemporary. Himself once (in the
late 1880s) a tentative disciple of the Tolstoyan simple life, and also of
nonresistance to evil as advocated by Tolstoy, Chekhov had now rejected those
doctrines. He illustrated his new view in one particularly outstanding story:
““Ward
Number Six”” (1892). Here an elderly
doctor shows himself nonresistant to evil by refraining from remedying the
appalling conditions in the mental ward of which he has charge—only to be
incarcerated as a patient himself through the intrigues of a subordinate. ““In
My Life ””(1896) the young hero, son of a provincial architect, insists on
defying middle-class convention by becoming a house painter, a cultivation of
the Tolstoyan simple life that Chekhov portrays as misconceived. In a later
trio of linked stories, ““The Man in a Case,”” ““Gooseberries,”” and ““About
Love”” (1898), Chekhov further develops the same theme, showing various figures
who similarly fail to realize their full potentialities. As those pleas in
favour of personal freedom illustrate, Chekhov’s stories frequently contain
some kind of submerged moral, though he never worked out a comprehensive
ethical or philosophical doctrine.
Chayka (The
Seagull) is Chekhov’s only
dramatic work dating with certainty from the Melikhovo period. First performed
in St. Petersburg on October 17, 1896 (Old Style), the four-act drama, misnamed
a comedy, was badly received; indeed, it was almost hissed off the stage.
Chekhov was greatly distressed and left the auditorium during the second act,
having suffered one of the most traumatic experiences of his life and vowing
never to write for the stage again. Two years later, however, the play was
revived by the newly created Moscow
Art Theatre, enjoying
considerable success and helping to reestablish Chekhov as a dramatist. The
Seagull is a study of
the clash between the older and younger generations as it affects two actresses
and two writers, some of the details having been suggested by episodes in the
lives of Chekhov’s friends.
Yalta
period: 1899–1904
In March
1897 Chekhov had suffered a lung hemorrhage caused by tuberculosis, symptoms of
which had become apparent considerably earlier. Now forced to acknowledge
himself a semi-invalid, Chekhov sold his Melikhovo estate and built a villa
in Yalta, the Crimean coastal resort. From then on he spent most of his winters
there or on the French Riviera, cut off from the intellectual life of Moscow
and St. Petersburg. That was all the more galling since his plays were
beginning to attract serious attention. Moreover, Chekhov had become attracted
by a young actress, Olga Knipper, who was appearing in his plays, and whom he
eventually married in 1901; the marriage probably marked the only profound love
affair of his life. But since Knipper continued to pursue her acting career,
husband and wife lived apart during most of the winter months, and there were
no children of the marriage.
Never a
successful financial manager, Chekhov attempted to regularize his literary
affairs in 1899 by selling the copyright of all his existing works, excluding
plays, to the publisher A.F. Marx for 75,000 rubles, an unduly low sum. In
1899–1901 Marx issued the first comprehensive edition of Chekhov’s works, in 10
volumes, after the author had himself rejected many of his juvenilia. Even so,
that publication, reprinted in 1903 with supplementary material, was
unsatisfactory in many ways.
Chekhov’s
Yalta period saw a decline in the production of short stories and a greater
emphasis on drama. His two last plays—Tri sestry (Three Sisters), first performed in 1901, and Vishnyovy
sad (The
Cherry Orchard), first performed in 1904—were both written for the Moscow
Art Theatre.
But much as Chekhov owed to the theatre’s two founders, Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko and Konstanin Stanislavsky, he remained dissatisfied with such
rehearsals and performances of his plays as he was able to witness. Repeatedly
insisting that his mature drama was comedy rather than tragedy, Chekhov grew
distressed when producers insisted on a heavy treatment, overemphasizing
the—admittedly frequent—occasions on which the characters inveigh against the
boredom and futility of their lives. Despite Stanislavsky’s reputation as an
innovator who had brought a
natural, nondeclamatory style to the hitherto overhistrionic Russian stage, his productions were
never natural and nondeclamatory enough for Chekhov, who wished his work to be
acted with the lightest possible touch. And though Chekhov’s mature plays have
since become established in repertoires all over the world, it remains doubtful
whether his craving for the light touch has been satisfied except on the rarest
of occasions. Yet oversolemnity can be the ruin of Three Sisters, for example—the play in which Chekhov
so sensitively portrays the longings of a trio of provincial young women.
Insisting that his The
Cherry Orchard was “a comedy, in places even a farce,” Chekhov offered in that
last play a poignant picture of the Russian landowning class in decline,
portraying characters who remain comic despite their very poignancy. The play
was first performed in Moscow on January 17, 1904 (Old Style), and less than
six months later Chekhov died of tuberculosis.
Though
already celebrated by the Russian literary public at the time of his death,
Chekhov did not become internationally famous until the years after World War
I, by which time the translations of Constance
Garnett (into
English) and of others had helped to publicize his work. Yet his elusive,
superficially guileless style of writing—in which what is left unsaid often
seems so much more important than what is said—has defied effective analysis by
literary critics, as well as effective imitation by creative writers.
It was
not until 40 years after his death, with the issue of the 20-volume Polnoye
sobraniye sochineny i pisem A.P. Chekhova (“Complete Works and Letters
of A.P. Chekhov”) of 1944–51, that Chekhov was at last presented in Russian on
a level of scholarship worthy—though with certain reservations—of his
achievement. Eight volumes of that edition contain his correspondence,
amounting to several thousand letters. Outstandingly witty and lively, they
belie the legend—commonly believed during the author’s lifetime—that he was
hopelessly pessimistic in outlook. As samples of the Russian epistolary art,
Chekhov’s letters have been rated second only to Aleksandr Pushkin’s by the literary historian D.S.
Mirsky. Although Chekhov is chiefly known for his plays, his stories—and
particularly those that were written after 1888—represent, according to some
critics, an even more significant and creative literary achievement.
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