REMINISCENCES OF TCHEKHOV

FROM THE TALE OF K. S. STAMSLAYSKY (CONTINUED). WE, of course, used every possible occasion to make him talk about Uncle Vanya, but to all our questions Anton Tchekhov replied briefly :-

" But it's all said there."

Yet on one occasion he expressed his view quite definitely.

Someone was talking about a performance of Uncle Vanya somewhere in the provinces. The actor who played Uncle Vanya presented him as a debauched Russian squire, wearing high boots and a blouse.

Russian landlords arc usually presented like that on the stage.

God, how hurt Tchekhov was !

" Look here, one can't do such a thing ! It says there in the play that he wears wonderful ties. Wonderful ! Look here, squires dress in much better taste than we do !"

Of course the point was not in the tie, but in the main idea of the play. Astrov and the poetic Uncle Vanya run to seed ir. a remote provincial hole, and the stupid professor and his like are having a splendid time in Petersburg.

-Uncle Vanya was a great success. When the performance was over the public demanded that a telegram should be sent to Tchekhov.

Judging from his letters of that time, Tchekhov lived all the winter in the hope of coming to Moscow and seeing our acting. He was quite attached now to our theatre, which he had not yet seen, save at the improvised production of The Seagull.

* * * * He wanted to write a play for us. " But in order to do it I must see your theatre," he wrote in his letters.

When we learnt that the doctors had forbidden him to come to Moscow in the spring we took his hint, and decided to go to him at Yalta—the whole troupe with all the properties.

In April, 1900, the whole troupe of the Moscow Art Theatre, with their families, scenery and properties for four plays, left Moscow for Sebastopol.

We were accompanied by many of the public, admirers of Tchekhov and of our theatre . . . and even by the famous critic S. V. Vasiliev. He went on a special mission : to give, detailed accounts of our productions.

_ But the Crimea met us coldly. An icy wind blew from the sea, the sky was overcast ; the fireplaces in the hotels blazed, yet we all felt cold.

. The local theatre had been closed all' the winter, and the, wind toreoff our posters. We felt a bit gloomy. -

But thgaext day the sun came out, the sea smiled on us, and we felt hippy.

Workmen began removing the obstructions from the local

theatre and opened its doors. We went in. It was as cold there as in a cave. It was a real cave which needed airing for weeks ; and yet in three days' time we had to start our per-, formances.

Our anxiety was greatest on account of Tchekhov : how * These reminiscence's. recorded by L. A. Souierihif.sky, are taken from the volume Shipeentik,,published in Petersburg, 1914. could he sit here in this dampness ? All day long our ladies were choosing seats where he could feel more comfortable, where the draught was least.

Our company settled in hotels near the theatre, and things began to get lively. We felt in a holiday mood : all were dressed in spring fashions, all felt young and all of us loved being actors. We all tried to be extremely comme it faia, as if to say : " Look people, we are not a wandering troupe, we are the theatre of the metropolis."

then there appeared a smartly dressed lady. She announced herself as the local aristocrat, a friend of Tchekhov, and asked for a box for all the performances. After her the ticket office of the theatre got busy, and the seats for the four performances were quickly all sold out.

We awaited Tchekhov's arrival. We had no news from Olga Knipper, who had gone to Yalta to see him ; and this alarmed

us. Then on Saturday she returned with the sad news that Tchekhov was ill and could hardly come. We all felt sad. We also learned from her that there were in Yalta then Gorki, Mamin-Sibiriak, Staniukovich, Bunin, Yelpatievsky and many more Russian authors.

But on Palm Sunday we had news that Tchekhov was coming that day by steamer. We all went to meet him, Tchekhov was the last to come out of his cabin, pale, thin. and coughing.

His eyes were sad, he looked ill, but gave us a_welcome smile, At the sight of him I wanted to cry. In our tactlessness wo began asking him about his health.

" Splendid ! I am quite well ! " came his reply.

He did not like people troubling about his health ; he did not like this even from those most intimate with him. Tile never complained, however ill he felt.

He went to his hotel. And we did not disturb him till the next day.

On Raster Monday our performances commenced. There was a double ordeal to go through : to be seen by Tchekhov, and by a new public.

The whole day passed in work. I only saw Tchekhov for a moment, when he came to the theatre to have a look at jlis seat, as he was most anxious to be hidden away from the public.

Despite the shatp cold, he was dressed in a summer overcoat, Our people spoke to him about it But again he replied :— " But, look here ! I am well ! "

The theatre was quite chilly, as it was not heated, and the wind came blowing from all corners. The dressing.

rooms were warmed by keros:ne lamps, but the wind blew

in. We all had to make up in one tiny dressing-room, warming it with the heat of our bodies, and our ladies had to run to the hotel over the road to warm theinselves and to change. At eight o'clock a piercing hand-bell announced the opening of the performance of Uncle Vanya.

" The dark figure of the author, hidden in the director's box, behind Mr. and Mme. Vl. Iv. N.-Danchenko, greatly agitated us.

The first act was received coldly, but towards the end the play got a great ovation. The public called for the author.

Tchekhov was in despair ; yet he appeared.

- Next day A. R. Artiom, our distinguished actor, could not come to the rehearsal : he fell ill after the agitations of the previous night. Tchekhov, who loved to treat patients, when he heard that Artiom, of whom he was fond, was not well, said he would call on him. Accordingly, Tchekhov and Tikhomirov immediately went off to see him. And we

all were wondering and questioning how Tchekhov was going to treat the patient. Before going to Artiom, Tchekhov called at his hotel to get his stethoscope. " Look here," he said, " I can't go to him without instruments." He examined Artiom for a long while, and then told him that he needed no treatment. I* prescribed a sort of pepper. mint lozenge and said :-

"Now, look here, you take this !

The treatment ended there, for Artiom recovered at once.

Anton Tchekhov loved to come • to the theatre when we were rehearsing ; but as it.was-.very cold, he would just come in for a while and go back to the terrace, where our artists warmed themselves in the sun. He talked merrily with them and kept on saying : Look here, it is a wonderful thing, it is a remarkable thing, this theatre of yours."

This was his constant refrain. - - Usually on the teirtice, chatted with the actors and actresses, and abused Yalta : " This sea is black like ink in the winter."-' Here, I reniettiber, Tchekhov taught our carpenter to imitate the chirping of a cricket.

" This is how it sounds ! " he said, and after a silence he would repeat the sound ;gain : Tic, tic ! "

A - certain man used -to come • to the terrace and start talking about literature. And then Tchekhov would dis-

appeai:- - Z . „" .

After Our performance of Hauptmann's The Lonely, which made a great impression on him, he said : "-What a -wonderful play ! "-. He used to say that the theatre was after all very important in life, and that authors ought to write plays. As far .as. I remember, he said this after seeing The Lonely. In one hi his •talks. on the stuinY terrace .I remember hint once speaking of Uncle Vanitja.. He praised all the artists, and made this remark to me concerning Astrov in- the last act : " Lookbere, he 'whistles. It is Uncle Vanya who is sulking,- but kstrov whifitles." -

With my decided views of that time I could not reconcile myself to it-how can a :man, in such a dramatic -situation, whistle ?

He used to come to the performances a long time before they started. He loved to come on to the stage and to see how the scenery was -being put up. During the intervals he went from one dressing-rocim to 'another and chatted with the performers. He always loved the details of the stage— the putting up of-the- scenery, the lighting ; and. when these matters were discussed in his presence, he used to stand, listening. -and. -smiling.

When - we acted Hedda: Gabler, he would come into my fires..iag-room, sit there, and not return to his seat: It perplexed us : we thought if he was in no hurry to return to the auditorium, then it must -mean that he did not like our acting. And when we asked him about it, he said quite unexpectedly : " Look here,- Ibsen is not a playwright ! "

* * * *

At last we came to Yalta. We had hardly time to wash, when Vishnevsky came running in and announced in ecstasies " I have just made the acquaintance of Gorki ! What a fascinating man ! He has agreed to write a play for us ! "

Next morning we went to have a look at the theatre, where we were to give several performances. The work of pre- paring it was going on in full swing. On the stage there were Vladinev N.-Danche:nko, Maxim Gorki with a stick in his hand, Bunin, Miroliubov, Mamin, Elpatievsky.

After we had had a look at the theatre we all went to the Promenade to have lunch there. The whole terrace of the restaurant and almost the whole Promenade were filled with our people. - Then we all decided to go to A. Tchekhov's.

At 1-chekhoy's house. the_ table was always laid—either for lunch or for tea. His house was not yet quite finished, and the orchard, which he himself had planted; was still sparse.

Anton Tchekhov was .cheerful and full of life. He moved from one group to another, ever adjusting his pince-nez. Now

he would be seen on the terrace, now in the garden, now in the courtyard, ever smiling. He would retire for a while to his study=probably to rest.

People 'came and went. When one group finished- lunch, a new group sat doWn to the table. Marie Tchekhov was kept Very busy,. and Olga Knipper, as a true friend, and as the future mistress of the house, helped to wait on the guests. Of all the people present then I remember how fascinated I was by 111aini- Gorki, whom I met then for the first tine. His Unusual figure, face, his broad .c); his ithusnal-gestures, the clenching of his fist in moments of excitement, his bright, childish smile, his face, at moments looking quite tragic, and his colourful, picturesque speech--in all these appeared a ge ntleness of soul and grace ; and his figure, although stooping, was well cut and graceful. 1 often caught myself admiring his pose or gesture. Moreover, the loving glance with which he would often look at Tchekhov, his face all in smiles at

Tchekhov's voice, a good-natured laugh at Tchekhov's witty remarks, inspired me with a great liking for him.

Anton Tchekhov, who always loved talking of what interested him at the moment; went from one to another-.and with a childish naiveté repeated the same phrase : " But_ it is a -wonderful thing ! You simply must writea play lor the theatre ! "

Gorki with his accounts of his wandering life, Harald with his humour, Bunin with his wit, Anton Tchekhov--:.- all created an atmosphere of'one big united family- Of artists. We talked of remaining in Yalta, of having our quarters there-. The spring, the sea, the merriment, youth and art were the atmosphere in which we lived then.

1 remember A. Tchekhov being once present at the rehearsal of The -Wild -Duck.' • He looked bored. He did- not like Ibsen. He said : "-Look here, Ibsen does not knoiv life.

In-life it does not happen like that." • A.-Tchekhov could not look at Artiem in that play- without laughing. He said : " I shall write a play for him. He shall sit on the bank of a river and fish, and Vishnevsky shall sit in a bathing-tent, near by, wash himself, splash and talk aloud." And Tchekhov burst out laughing at that combination.

At one of our rehearsals we began pestering Tchekhov to write a new play for us. He gave us the following few hints about the future play. An open windoW, a branch of white cherries in 'blossom creeping into 'the room from the garden. Aitiom as butler, or steward: His master, or mistress, is ever in need of money, and in.critical moments she turns for help to her butler or steward, who has Managed to save up quite a considerable sum. - Then there was a group of billiard players. One of them, the: most enthusiaStic of the lot, has only one arm, a very gay and cheerful fellow, ever talking aloud. Tchekhov meant that part for Vishnevsky. But all these openings, through which he was letting us have a glance at his future play, gave us no notion at all of what it was to be about. And the more energetically did we urge him on to write the play.

* * * *

Just as much as Tchekhov disliked Ibsen's plays, he liked. Hauptmann's. At that time we were rehearsing Michael Kramrner and Tchekhov followed our rehearsals with great interest.

There remains in my memory a very characteristic trait of his direct and naive susceptibility to impressions.

At the dress rehearsal of Act II. of Michael Kramrner, in which I was acting, I now and then, being on the stage, heard Tchekhov's laugh. But as the action was not such as to evoke laughter in the spectator—and as Tchekhov's opinion was very dear to me—that laugh of his perplexed me very much. Also, in the middle of the act Tchekhov got up several times, walked in the main 'gangWaY, and kept on laughing. This still more perplexed the performers.

When the act was over, I went into the auditorium to learn the cause of that attitude of his, and I saw him very cheerful, and excitedly pacing the main gangway. I asked his impression. He liked the play very much. " How good !,.." he said. " It's wonderful, you Dhow, wonderful ! "

It appeared that he had laughed from sheer pleasure. Only very naive and genuine spectators can laugh like that.

* * * During that season he also saw The Three Sisters and was quite pleased by the performance.. But, in his opinion, the ringing of the alarm bell in Act III. was not satisfactory. He decided to produce that sound himself. He evidently wanted to work with the stage hands and to help them. • - On the day of the rehearsal he arrived at the theatre in a cab, loaded with various tins, pans and saucepans.,k He him-. self arranged the stage hands,. distributed the implements among them, told them what every one of them was to do, and as he gaye his explanations he kept on blushing. Several times he ran frOm the stage to the anditarium and backwards, but 'somehow he could not get the desired effect. • '

The day of the performance came and Tehekhoir, in agitation; .began waiting for the sound he had arranged. It turned out .an incredible one ; it was a kind of cacophony,. each man beating his instrument indiscriminately, so that the play could -not be heard.

In the box close to the director's box, where Tchekhov sate the people first criticized the alarm sound, then the play, and then the author. Tchekhov, hearing these conversations, tried to hide himself away in the far corner of the box:: At Mat; he could stand it no longer. He .left the box and came into' my dressing-room.

" Why aren't you looking at the play ? " I asked him.

" But, look here, they are calling me names. . . .ft's un- pleasant,"- and he sat in my dressing-room all through the performance.

Tchekhov loved to come to the theatre before the perfor- mance started ; to sit down and watch the actor making up, to see how his face changes. He used to look on in silence. And when a certain line changed the actor's face, in the way required for the part, he would suddenly feel delighted and burst into laughter. Then he would be silent again, and look on attentively.

- * Once a friend of mine, a very cheerful, happy fellow, came into my dressing-room. He had the reputation of being too fond of women.

All the time we were sitting in my dressing-room, Tchekhov looked at him attentively and with a serious face, without taking any part in our conversation.

When that man went away, Tchekhov came up to me several times during the evening and asked all sorts of questions about him. When I asked him the reason of this interest, he said : " Look here, he is a suicide."

That definition or prognostication seemed to me ridiculous. The more amazed was I when a few years later I learnt that the man had poisoned himself.

a * * * Olga Knipper was taken seriously ill, and went to Yalta. There her illness became worse. The dining-room of Tchekhov's house was turned into her sick-room, and he looked after her and constituted himself her gentle nurse.

In the evenings he would sit in the next room, going over the old stories which he was to include in the complete edition of his works. Some of those stories he had quite forgotten, and reading them now, he laughed very much as he found them witty and funny.

When I used to remind him that we expected a new play from him, he would say : " Here, here it is I ". . . and he would show me a tiny piece of paper covered with his tiny handwriting.

A great comfort to Tchekhov at that sad time was the presence in Yalta of Ivan Bunin.

Amid all these anxieties and agitations, Tchekhov did not give up the idea of leaving Yalta and settling in Moscow. The long evenings passed in our telling him about the activities of the Art Theatre. He was so fond of Moscow that he would ask what new buildings were being put up there and where exactly were the sites. We had to give him all the particulars : where, at what corner a new building was being erected, in what style it was, who was the architect, of how many storeys it consisted, &c., &c. He would smile and say at times : " Look here, it is wonderful I "