Anton Chekhov

In Chekhov's later plays, a speech like this would be alloyed by some ironic flaw in the character; here it is meant to be taken as read. The critic Chudakov noted that Khrushchyov is perhaps the first hero in Russian theatre 'whose purpose in life is the preservation of nature,'⁸ but unlike Astrov, his counterpart in Uncle Vanya, Khrush- chyov's concern with conservation is not, by itself, a redeeming trait. Merit is not achieved by saving forests or serving science or by any practical activity; pure morality in human relations is of higher value. The crucial turning- point for Khrushchyov is the finding of Voynitsky's diary, which shows him how wrong he was to slander Yelena. The device is clumsy, a relic of the well-made play, but Chekhov needs it to propel Khrushchyov's volte-face, his awakening, when he casts off his suspicions of others.

I didn't shoot myself and I didn't cast myself into the millrace . . . Maybe I'm not a hero, but I shall become one! I shall sprout eagle's wings, and won't be frightened by this blaze or the devil himself! Let the forest burn - I'll plant a new one! Let someone not love me - I'll fall in love with someone else!

By means of rhetoric Chekhov is endeavouring to surpass his earlier dramatic statements. Both Without Patrimony and Ivanov centred upon somewhat outstand­ing individuals corroded by their own cynicism, self-doubt and reflective propensities. In The Wood Demon, those qualities re-emerge in Voynitsky, who, riddled with irony, finds the less complicated natures of Fyodor and Khrushchyov appealing; himself incapable of change, he has to commit suicide, to leave the stage clear for the reversals of the last act.

Because message is so important in this play, medium is more ungainly than usual with Chekhov. His recourse to such tried-and-true gimmicks as the overheard and mis­understood conversation, the all-explaining document that turns up at the critical moment, the speedy peripeteias that arrive in time to aTrange a symmetrical tableau of lovers for the curtain-call made Chekhov himself wince. For at just this period he was hoping to forge a new dramaturgy, to create 'a play where people would arrive, depart, talk about the weather, dine, play cards, but not because that is what goes on in life . . . We don't need realism or naturalism, we don't need to adjust to any sort of frame. We need life to be what it is and people what they are, not on stilts'.⁹ He did manage to bring real life on stage in The Wood Demon: everyday talk, casually tossed-off phrases, pauses as signs of inner concentration provide the fundamental texture. Such a seemingly minor detail as Yelena's playing Lensky's pre-duel aria from Yevgeny Onegin as Act Three starts bears a close relation to what will occur in the act: an explosion of violence between two men, ending in the shooting death of one of them.

Except for that third act, each tableau is grouped around a food-laden table, where the characters' participation in or withdrawal from the communal act of eating has dramatic weight. Yuliya spends the first act of The Wood Demon pressing pie and vodka on her guests, Waffles dilates on the virtues of a ham, champagne is ordered. Khrushchyov's hearty appetite is meant to be more attractive than Fyodor's attention to drink. Act Two takes place in the dining-room, and the affinity between Khrushchyov and Sofiya is revealed by their communion in cheese and vodka after hours, as later, she and Yelena will pledge friendship in a glass of wine. The reconciliations and revelations of the last act are staged at a picnic prepared by Waffles. The spoiled Professor is told by no-nonsense Yuliya that she won't add sugar to his tea: 'have your tea with jam'. When Fyodor enters with a hangover, he takes his with 'lemon, as sour as you please'. Yuliya and Waffles insist that he stick to tea and rusks as an emblem of his promised reformation.

Still, the attention to real life could not conceal the play's contrived denouement, tendentiousness and manipulation of psychology. Chekhov refused, despite the pleas of enthusiasts to have it reprinted. 'I hate that play and am trying to forget it,' he wrote later (to A. I. Urusov, 16 April 1900). But the ideology, if too blatantly expressed, was to abide; Chekhov's later plays continued to attribute greater importance to honesty in human relations than to any doctrinaire or programmatic prescriptions for society.

4

The One-Act Plays