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Such minor differences, however, were not those that prompted Stanislavsky to declare later that "The production of The Cherry Orchard was accomplished with great hardships," or Chekhov's wife to admit: "The directors and author could not understand each other, could not agree." Their fundamental disagreement was that Chekhov regarded his play as a happy comedy and Stanislavsky planned to stage it — and in this he had convinced his actors — as the poetically tragic drama of the vanishing life of the gentry, crushed by economic de­mands of vulgar commercialism. "I do not remember," Stanislavsky wrote in his recollections, "that Chekhov ever defended any opinion of his with such vigor as he did this one when he first heard these reactions to his play at a meeting." No doubt Stanislavsky's aesthetic preferences, the ethos of the time, and the popular identification of Chekhov as the sad and pessimistic chronicler of the fading beauty of an irrecoverable age —all contrived to force an emphasis upon his play which he never intended. He told his former student Yakovlev, who visited him in Moscow: "I can't figure it out; either the play is no good or the actors don't understand me. ... As it is now being done, The Cherry Orchard is impossible to put on." And four days before its

1 Stanislavsky gives the impression that Chekhov made changes in Act II only after the premiere of The Cherry Orchard. However, recent evidence proves that he introduced changes before the opening of the play. Further, he did not delete Charlotta's monologue, as Stanislavsky claims, but transferred it to the beginning of the act and also rewrote the end of the act. See "Avtograf dobavlenii ко vtoromu aktu Vishnevogo sada," in Literaturnoe Nasledstvo ("Manuscript Additions to the Second Act of The Cherry Orchard," in Literary Heritage), Moscow, 1060, LXVIII, 141.

premiere, he gloomily wrote to his old friend the headmistress of the Yalta schooclass="underline" "I expect no particular success, the thing is going poorly."

Apparently neither did Stanislavsky expect The Cherry Orchard to achieve any particular success on the opening night, for he points out, in My Life in Art, that the date of the premiere, January 17, 1904, Chekhov's forty-fourth birthday, could also be used to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of his literary activity: "Our reckoning was simple. If the actors were not able to put the play over, its lack of great success could be blamed on the unusual conditions of the jubilee evening, which would not fail to draw the spectators' attention to the author and away from the actors." In various quarters plans to celebrate this literary anniversary had been going on for some time despite Che­khov's efforts to discourage them. In April of the previous year he had responded with some agitation to Mirolyubov, who brought up the subject of a jubilee: "What is there to be festive about? To celebrate? No, it won't take place. There would be too much that would be burdensome." And when Iordanov, his beneficiary of many years, wrote him of plans for a big celebration in Taganrog in 1904 — a small one had been held there in 1903 — Chekhov deliberately put him off with such excuses as lack of interest, illness, and uncertainty about the actual date of the beginning of his literary career.2

In anticipation of the jubilee a final effort was made by Gorky and his friends to compel a renegotiation of Chekhov's contract with Marx. Gorky and Leonid Andreev drafted a letter to the publisher and were busily collecting the signatures of some of the most distinguished authors, artists, and scholars. In the letter they pointed out that all of Russia would soon be celebrating Chekhov's literary jubilee; that he was ill and in poor material circumstances despite the great artistic scrvice he had rendered to his country; and after analyzing the terms of the contract and indicating how profitable they were to the publisher,, and disadvantageous to Chekhov, the letter concluded with a plea to Marx to reconsider the whole matter as a kind of patriotic and cultural duty. The initiators were confident of success and planned to announce the results at the jubilee celebration. However, when the move came to Chekhov's attention, he asked the leaders to desist and he was reported

2 Chekhov's first known published story was in 1880, but some trifles of his, which his brother Alexander submitted to the humor magazine Alarm Clock, may have appeared as early as 1877. However, this earlier date has never been estab­lished.

by Tclcshov as saying: "I signed the agreement with Marx and for me to repudiate it would be distasteful. If I sold my works cheaply, it is my fault. I committed a stupidity. Marx ought not to have to answer for another's mistake. On another occasion I'll be more careful."

Perhaps a bit more realistically, Chekhov told Yakovlev at this time: "I ought soon to go abroad, but I have no money at all. Only a dis­agreeable memory remains of the seventy-five thousand roubles from Marx. Yes, you were right formerly; I ought to have published the works myself. But how could I have supposed, then, that I would go on for five more years? And at that time seventy-five thousand seemed to me inexhaustible wealth. Now, if it were not for the income from my plays, I would have nothing! But you know, they regard me as a very wealthy man. Even today I received two letters; one asked for a loan of five hundred roubles, the other for seven hundred and fifty. Really, isn't this bitter irony? I've never failed to answer a single letter, but I'll not answer these, not because I'm ashamed to confess my poverty; but I'm convinccd they will not believe it!"

Although Chekhov was aware that the jubilee plans were underway, it is not clcar whether he knew that the celebration would take place during the premiere of The Cherry Orchard.3 His refusal to attend the opening of the play may well have been caused by suspicion that some attempt would be made to honor him publicly. At the end of the second act, Ncmirovich-Danchcnko sent him a note to say that the audience had called for him and the actors wished to sec him. Che­khov arrived before the last act. He was ushered on the stage before the whole troupe of the Art Theater, led by Stanislavsky and Nemiro­vich-Danchenko, and representatives of Moscow's leading theatrical and literary societies. The packed house, apparently as much surprised as Chekhov, roared their approval in a prolonged and noisy demonstra­tion. Flowers, wreaths, and various gifts were showered on him. He stood there blinking in the bright lights, thin, deathly pale, weak, struggling to restrain fits of coughing. Then the speeches began — greetings by A. N. Vesclovsky from the Society of Lovers of Russian Literature, by Goltsev on behalf of a series of Moscow publications, and from S. A. Ivantsev for the Literary-Artistic Circle. As they droned

3 Stanislavsky asserts that Chekhov knew that the jubilee would take place at the premifere of the play, and protested; Nemirovich-Danchenko and one of the actors, L. M. Leonidov, insist that he did not know. Chekhov's sister also claimed that he was unaware that the celebration would take place at the opening per­formance of The Cherry Orchard.

on, someone in the audience shouted "Be seated!" to the plainly weary Chekhov, but there were no chairs on the stage. He frowned, looked confused, did not know what to do with his hands, and remained patiently standing. Next came the praise of representatives of a series of leading newspapers followed by greetings from the Maly Theater, represented by the eminent actress G. N. Fedotova. Telegrams were read from magazines, organizations, and well-known personages from all over Russia. Perhaps the most stirring speech was that of Nemiro­vich-Danchenko on behalf of the Art Theater. "Our salutations may have wearied you," he concluded in a voice full of emotion, "but you ought to take comfort from this: that you observe here only a part of the limitless devotion which all Russian educated society has for you. To such an extent is our theater indebted to your talent, to your tender heart, to your pure soul, that you in all justice may say: 'This is my theater. . . ."'