The Cherry Orchard

The Cherry Orchard Plot Summary

Introduction

In the fading years of Imperial Russia, a remarkable figure emerged from humble beginnings to transform literature and drama forever. Anton Pavlovich Chekhov—doctor, humanitarian, and literary genius—stands as one of history's most influential writers despite a life cut tragically short. Born to the grandson of a serf in a provincial port town, Chekhov's journey to international acclaim represents one of literature's most improbable ascents. His keen observational skills, honed through medical practice, allowed him to diagnose not just physical ailments but the deeper spiritual and psychological maladies of Russian society. What makes Chekhov extraordinary is his unique position at the crossroads of medicine and art, combining scientific detachment with profound human empathy. His innovations in dramatic form and storytelling technique revolutionized modern theater, creating works that continue to be performed worldwide over a century after his death. Through his life and work, we witness a man who mastered the art of truthful observation, developed a compassionate approach to human suffering, and created a new literary language that captured the subtle ironies, frustrations, and longings of ordinary lives. His philosophy that art should ask questions rather than provide answers challenged conventional wisdom and established him as a visionary whose influence extends far beyond his brief forty-four years of life.

Chapter 1: Early Life and Medical Training (1860-1884)

Anton Pavlovich Chekhov was born on January 17, 1860, in Taganrog, a port town on the Sea of Azov in southern Russia. His grandfather Yegor had been a serf who, through remarkable industry, purchased his family's freedom in 1841. Anton's father Pavel ran a small grocery store while cultivating aspirations for his children that exceeded his own station. Though outwardly religious and respectable, Pavel was a harsh disciplinarian who frequently beat his children and forced them to work long hours in the shop. "In my childhood, there was no childhood," Chekhov would later remark, a sentiment that echoed through many of his stories featuring children with prematurely extinguished innocence. The young Chekhov found escape in Taganrog's theater, sneaking in despite school regulations forbidding attendance. This early exposure to drama planted seeds that would later flower in his revolutionary plays. His formal education at the Taganrog Gymnasium emphasized classical languages and religious instruction, but the real lessons came from observing the diverse population of Greeks, Jews, Tatars, and Armenians who populated his hometown, providing a panorama of human types he would later recreate in his writing. When Anton was sixteen, his father's financial mismanagement led to bankruptcy. The family fled to Moscow to escape creditors, leaving the teenager behind to complete his education while supporting himself through tutoring. This early independence fostered the self-reliance and observational detachment that would later characterize his writing. After graduation in 1879, Chekhov joined his impoverished family in Moscow, where he found himself thrust into the role of primary provider despite being a medical student at Moscow University. To earn money, Chekhov began writing humorous sketches and vignettes for popular magazines under pseudonyms like Antosha Chekhonte. These early pieces, though slight, displayed his talent for compression and subtle irony. He wrote prolifically during his medical studies, producing hundreds of comic pieces that helped support his parents and siblings. The dual demands of medical training and literary production established the disciplined work habits that would sustain his later career. In 1884, as Chekhov completed his medical studies and established a general practice, he also experienced the first symptoms of tuberculosis, spitting blood—a condition he, as a physician, surely recognized as potentially fatal. Yet characteristically, he downplayed the seriousness of his condition and continued his medical practice while expanding his literary ambitions. This period marked a transition from casual humor writer to serious artist, as he published his first collection, Fairy Tales of Melpomene, which focused on theatrical life and demonstrated his growing interest in the world of drama.

Chapter 2: The Emerging Writer (1884-1890)

By 1885, Chekhov had established dual careers as both a practicing physician and a published writer. His medical background provided not just scientific knowledge but a method of close observation and analysis that informed his literary work. "Medicine is my lawful wife," he would say, "and literature is my mistress." This dual identity allowed him an unusual vantage point—he treated patients from all social classes, gaining intimate knowledge of human suffering that transcended the usual limitations of class-bound Russian society. A watershed moment came in 1886 when the respected literary critic Dmitry Grigorovich wrote to Chekhov, urging him to take his talent more seriously and abandon the hasty production of humorous sketches. This recognition from the literary establishment prompted Chekhov to refine his approach. He began publishing in more prestigious journals and developed his signature style: precise, economical prose that avoided melodrama and moralization, instead presenting life's complexities with compassionate objectivity. During this period, Chekhov made his first serious attempts at writing for the theater. His early dramatic efforts, including the one-act farces The Bear (1888) and The Proposal (1889), demonstrated his gift for comedy and timing. More ambitious was his first full-length play, Ivanov (1887), which depicted a landowner suffering from what we might now recognize as depression. Though unevenly received, it revealed Chekhov's interest in exploring psychological complexity on stage—a radical departure from the theatrical conventions of his day. The years 1888-1889 marked Chekhov's emergence as a major literary figure. The publication of "The Steppe" in the prestigious journal Northern Herald brought him critical acclaim, and he was awarded the Pushkin Prize for his collection In the Gloaming. However, his attempt at a more ambitious play, The Wood Goblin (1889), was rejected by the major theaters and performed to apathetic reception at a private theater in Moscow. This disappointment, combined with his brother Nikolay's death from tuberculosis, plunged Chekhov into a period of pessimism reflected in stories like "A Dismal Story" (1889). Throughout this formative period, Chekhov developed his distinctive authorial stance—one of non-judgmental observation that refused to moralize or prescribe solutions. In an 1888 letter, he articulated his artistic credo: "You want me to say, when I depict horse thieves: horse-stealing is a bad thing. But that's been known for a long time now, without my help, hasn't it?" This commitment to artistic objectivity and rejection of didacticism was revolutionary in a Russian literary tradition dominated by morally prescriptive works.

Chapter 3: Sakhalin Journey and Social Conscience

In 1890, at the height of his early literary success, Chekhov made an extraordinary decision that baffled his contemporaries: he embarked on a dangerous 10,000-mile journey to Sakhalin Island, Russia's remote penal colony in the Far East. This arduous journey across Siberia by horse-drawn carriage (the Trans-Siberian railway was not yet complete) took three months and severely taxed his fragile health. Why would a successful writer with tuberculosis undertake such a grueling expedition? The motivations were complex—a desire to prove his worth beyond literature, a Tolstoyan urge toward social service, and perhaps an attempt to escape the limitations of his increasingly celebrated but confined existence. On Sakhalin, Chekhov conducted a remarkable one-man census of the prison population, methodically interviewing thousands of convicts, settlers, and native inhabitants. He documented the brutal conditions, administrative corruption, and human degradation with scientific precision. Living conditions were appalling—Chekhov found children born into exile, women forced into prostitution, and prisoners subjected to arbitrary flogging and other abuses. His medical training allowed him to treat numerous ailments among both prisoners and guards, giving him unique access to all aspects of the colony's life. The resulting book, The Island of Sakhalin (1893-1894), stands as a pioneering work of prison sociology and investigative journalism. Unlike sentimental reform literature of the era, Chekhov's account presented facts with minimal commentary, allowing the documented reality to speak for itself. The impact was nonetheless powerful—his findings contributed to prison reforms and reinforced growing public sentiment against corporal punishment, which was abolished in Russian prisons shortly afterward. The Sakhalin journey marked a pivotal moment in Chekhov's development, intensifying the social conscience already evident in his writing. Though he never became politically aligned with any faction (frustrating both conservatives and radicals), the experience deepened his understanding of systemic social problems. Stories written after his return, such as "Ward No. 6" (1892), with its devastating portrait of a mental asylum where a doctor becomes a patient, reflect this heightened awareness of institutional failures and social responsibility. Upon returning via Hong Kong, Singapore, and Ceylon, Chekhov found his perspective broadened beyond the provincial limitations of Russian society. Yet the journey had taken a physical toll, accelerating the progress of his tuberculosis. The experience left him with a more somber worldview, reflected in the increasingly complex moral universe of his subsequent work, where easy answers are absent and human suffering exists within systems too entrenched for simple reform.

Chapter 4: Literary Breakthrough and Health Decline

The 1890s marked Chekhov's artistic maturation and the creation of his most enduring works, even as his health steadily deteriorated. In 1892, he purchased a small estate at Melikhovo, about fifty miles south of Moscow, where he could escape the demands of city life. Here he planted gardens, built schools for peasant children, and treated local villagers free of charge during the cholera epidemic of 1892-1893. This rural experience provided material for some of his finest stories and plays, as he observed firsthand the challenges of Russian provincial life. His writing during this period achieved new depths of psychological insight and formal innovation. Stories like "The Black Monk" (1894), "The Student" (1894), and "The Lady with the Dog" (1899) moved beyond mere observation to explore the interior lives of his characters with unprecedented subtlety. In these mature works, Chekhov perfected his technique of "indirect action," where the most significant events often occur offstage or between the lines. His narrative voice became increasingly restrained, allowing readers to draw their own conclusions rather than directing their interpretations. After the disappointment of his early theatrical efforts, Chekhov had largely abandoned playwriting. His return to drama came with The Seagull (1896), which introduced the innovations that would revolutionize modern theater: the replacement of traditional plot with a "web of mood," the use of symbolic actions, and the portrayal of characters whose inner lives contrast with their outer behavior. Its first production at the Alexandrinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg was a notorious disaster, with the audience hissing and the actress playing Nina forgetting her lines. Chekhov fled the theater before the end, vowing never to write for the stage again. However, The Seagull found its ideal interpreters when Konstantin Stanislavsky and Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko chose it for their newly formed Moscow Art Theatre in 1898. Their nuanced production, which captured the play's subtle rhythms and understated emotions, was a triumph that established both Chekhov's reputation as a dramatist and the Moscow Art Theatre's position as Russia's leading theatrical company. This fruitful collaboration continued with Uncle Vanya (1899), a reworking of his earlier Wood Goblin, which further developed his revolutionary dramatic technique. Throughout this period of artistic triumph, Chekhov's health was rapidly failing. By 1897, his tuberculosis had advanced to the point where he suffered a severe pulmonary hemorrhage that required hospitalization. Doctors advised him to move to a warmer climate, and he reluctantly relocated to Yalta on the Black Sea coast. This exile from the cultural centers of Moscow and St. Petersburg was a painful sacrifice, isolating him from the theatrical world where his work was now flourishing and from many of his closest friends and literary colleagues.

Chapter 5: The Moscow Art Theatre and Masterworks

The final phase of Chekhov's career was defined by his relationship with the Moscow Art Theatre and the creation of his greatest dramatic works. Despite his physical separation from Moscow, Chekhov maintained close ties with the theater, which had adopted the seagull as its emblem in tribute to his play. His correspondence with Stanislavsky and Nemirovich-Danchenko shows his deep engagement with the theatrical process, even as he sometimes disagreed with their interpretations of his work. Three Sisters (1901), written specifically for the Moscow Art Theatre company, further developed Chekhov's innovative dramatic method. The play follows the Prozorov sisters, trapped in a provincial town and yearning for Moscow, which becomes a symbol of their unrealized aspirations. Like his other mature plays, it lacks conventional dramatic structure, instead weaving together multiple character threads to create a tapestry of provincial Russian life. The original production, directed by Stanislavsky, emphasized the play's melancholy aspects, though Chekhov insisted it was a comedy—an example of the tension between his vision and the theater's interpretation. Chekhov's masterpiece, The Cherry Orchard (1904), completed shortly before his death, represents the culmination of his dramatic art. The play depicts the decline of the Russian aristocracy through the story of Madame Ranevskaya, who loses her family estate with its beloved cherry orchard to Lopakhin, the son of a former serf. With characteristic subtlety, Chekhov refuses to wholly sympathize with either the impractical aristocrats or the pragmatic new businessman. The play transcends social commentary to become a meditation on time, change, and human adaptation to loss. The first production of The Cherry Orchard, which opened on Chekhov's birthday, January 17, 1904, was a significant cultural event. Despite his deteriorating health, Chekhov traveled to Moscow for rehearsals, working closely with the actors to convey his vision. Again, tensions arose with Stanislavsky, who interpreted the play as a tragedy rather than the "comedy" Chekhov had labeled it. This persistent misunderstanding highlights the revolutionary nature of Chekhov's drama, which defied easy categorization within existing theatrical conventions. Chekhov's dramatic innovations transformed world theater. He replaced external action with internal psychological landscapes, abandoned neat resolutions for open-ended conclusions, and developed a form where, as Virginia Woolf later observed, "the important thing is left unsaid." His characters speak in naturalistic dialogue full of non sequiturs, silences, and unfinished thoughts that reveal their inner lives more truthfully than traditional theatrical speech. These techniques, initially bewildering to audiences accustomed to more direct forms of drama, became foundational elements of modern theater, influencing playwrights from Tennessee Williams to Harold Pinter.

Chapter 6: Personal Life and Relationships

Despite his literary fame, Chekhov maintained a certain reserve in his personal relationships. Friends and contemporaries described him as charming, witty, and unfailingly polite, yet with an underlying detachment that kept others at a careful distance. This reserve extended to his romantic life, where he engaged in numerous affairs but seemed reluctant to commit to marriage. As he once wrote to a friend, "I promise to be an excellent husband, but give me a wife who, like the moon, won't appear in my sky every day." Women were drawn to Chekhov's combination of gentle humor, fame, and personal magnetism. His correspondence reveals relationships with a diverse array of women, from Lidiya Mizinova, a friend of his sister who became the model for Nina in The Seagull, to the flamboyant actress Lidiya Yavorskaya. Some women, like the writer Lidiya Avilova, projected their own romantic fantasies onto what Chekhov considered ordinary friendships. His reluctance to marry puzzled his contemporaries, though some speculated it stemmed from his tuberculosis diagnosis and awareness of his limited life expectancy. To the surprise of his friends and the temporary dismay of his sister Mariya, who had long served as his housekeeper, Chekhov married the Moscow Art Theatre actress Olga Knipper in 1901, when he was forty-one. Their unconventional marriage was conducted largely by correspondence, as Olga's theatrical career kept her in Moscow while Chekhov's health confined him to Yalta. Despite the separation, their letters reveal a playful, affectionate relationship—he called her his "dog," his "puppy," and his "little cucumber," while she addressed him as her "writer" and "master." The marriage brought Chekhov genuine happiness in his final years, despite the disappointment of Olga's miscarriage in 1902. Chekhov's most enduring relationship was perhaps with his sister Mariya, his devoted companion and caretaker. After their father's death, Chekhov became the head of the family, supporting his mother and siblings financially and emotionally. This sense of responsibility influenced his decision to study medicine and his lifelong habit of practical assistance to others. His brother Nikolay's death from tuberculosis in 1889 affected him deeply and likely reinforced his awareness of his own mortality. Throughout his life, Chekhov maintained friendships with major cultural figures of his era. His correspondence with the publisher Alexei Suvorin reveals a complex relationship that transcended political differences (Suvorin was a conservative while Chekhov maintained more liberal sympathies). Chekhov also knew Tolstoy, whom he greatly admired despite disagreeing with his moral absolutism. With fellow writers like Ivan Bunin and Maxim Gorky, Chekhov formed friendships based on mutual artistic respect, though he typically avoided the factional disputes that dominated Russian literary circles. Perhaps most telling about Chekhov's character was his relationship with ordinary people. Despite his fame, he continued to treat peasants without charge, built schools and roads in his local community, and displayed genuine concern for the welfare of others regardless of their social status. This combination of practical compassion and emotional reserve became the foundation of his artistic vision—an ability to observe human suffering with both scientific detachment and profound empathy.

Chapter 7: Final Years in Yalta (1899-1904)

Chekhov's final years in Yalta were marked by the poignant contrast between his growing international reputation and his physical decline. His white villa, which he had designed himself, became a pilgrimage site for admirers and young writers seeking his guidance. Though he sometimes complained about the constant stream of visitors, he received them with characteristic courtesy, offering advice and encouragement to emerging talents like the young Maxim Gorky. Despite his illness, Chekhov maintained a disciplined writing routine, producing some of his most lyrical and nuanced work during this period. Stories like "The Bishop" (1902) and "Betrothed" (1903) display a new acceptance of life's cyclical nature and a profound appreciation for fleeting moments of beauty. His correspondence from these years reveals both his deteriorating health and his continuing engagement with Russia's literary and theatrical worlds. Chekhov's villa in Yalta became a cultural center where he entertained distinguished visitors including Leo Tolstoy, with whom he formed an unlikely friendship despite their different worldviews. Tolstoy admired Chekhov's artistry while criticizing what he saw as a lack of moral purpose; Chekhov respected Tolstoy's genius while rejecting his dogmatic moralizing. Their conversations, recorded in memoirs and letters, reveal Chekhov's commitment to artistic truth over ideological certainty. In the summer of 1903, despite his failing health, Chekhov threw himself into the creation of The Cherry Orchard. He worked intensively on the play, corresponding with the Moscow Art Theatre about his vision for the production. In December, he traveled to Moscow for rehearsals, a journey that severely taxed his strength. The opening night on January 17, 1904, his 44th birthday, became a celebration of his literary career, with speeches and tributes that left him bemused and somewhat embarrassed by the fuss. By spring 1904, Chekhov's condition had worsened dramatically. German specialists recommended the spa town of Badenweiler in the Black Forest, and in June, accompanied by Olga, he made his final journey. On July 2, 1904, knowing the end was near, a doctor offered champagne—a traditional last comfort for the dying. "It's been a long time since I've drunk champagne," Chekhov remarked, his final words capturing the gentle irony that characterized his art. He died that night, and his body was returned to Moscow in a refrigerated railway car labeled "Fresh Oysters"—a final absurd touch he might have appreciated. His funeral in Moscow became a major public event, though ironically, it was overshadowed by the simultaneous funeral of a military hero, General Keller. Through a mix-up, Chekhov's modest procession became entangled with the general's military cortege, complete with a band playing martial music—an incongruous ending for a man who had always avoided grand gestures and preferred quiet observation to public spectacle.

Summary

Anton Chekhov's greatest gift to posterity was his revolutionary understanding that truth in art comes not from moral certainty but from honest observation of life's contradictions, ambiguities, and unresolved questions. In both his medical practice and his writing, he maintained that his task was to state the problem correctly, not to provide solutions. This approach—revolutionary in his time—established a new literary and dramatic vision that continues to influence artists across disciplines. His plays transformed theater from a medium of artificial conventions to one capable of capturing life's subtle complexities, while his stories redefined the possibilities of short fiction through compression, implication, and respect for the reader's intelligence. What remains most inspiring about Chekhov is his ability to combine clear-eyed recognition of human folly and suffering with deep compassion for those who struggle and fail. Despite his own physical decline and premature death, he maintained a fundamental faith in work, kindness, and the value of small, meaningful actions in an indifferent universe. "Knowledge is of no value," he wrote, "unless you put it into practice." This integration of understanding and action, observation and empathy, offers a timeless model for engaging with our complex world. For anyone seeking to understand the human condition without illusion yet without despair, Chekhov remains not just a literary giant but a moral exemplar whose life affirms that beauty and meaning persist even in the face of inevitable loss.

About Author

Loading...

Anton Chekhov

Dramas, such as The Seagull (1896, revised 1898), and including "A Dreary Story" (1889) of Russian writer Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, also Chekov, concern the inability of humans to communicate. Born ( Антон Павлович Чехов ) in the small southern seaport of Taganrog, the son of a grocer. His grandfather, a serf, bought his own freedom and that of his three sons in 1841. He also taught to read. A cloth merchant fathered Yevgenia Morozova, his mother. "When I think back on my childhood," Chekhov recalled, "it all seems quite gloomy to me." Tyranny of his father, religious fanaticism, and long nights in the store, open from five in the morning till midnight, shadowed his early years. He attended a school for Greek boys in Taganrog from 1867 to 1868 and then Taganrog grammar school. Bankruptcy of his father compelled the family to move to Moscow. At the age of 16 years in 1876, independent Chekhov for some time alone in his native town supported through private tutoring. In 1879, Chekhov left grammar school and entered the university medical school at Moscow. In the school, he began to publish hundreds of short comics to support his mother, sisters and brothers. Nicholas Leikin published him at this period and owned Oskolki (splinters), the journal of Saint Petersburg. His subjected silly social situations, marital problems, and farcical encounters among husbands, wives, mistresses, and lust; even after his marriage, Chekhov, the shy author, knew not much of whims of young women. Nenunzhaya pobeda , first novel of Chekhov, set in 1882 in Hungary, parodied the novels of the popular Mór Jókai. People also mocked ideological optimism of Jókai as a politician. Chekhov graduated in 1884 and practiced medicine. He worked from 1885 in Peterburskaia gazeta. In 1886, Chekhov met H.S. Suvorin, who invited him, a regular contributor, to work for Novoe vremya, the daily paper of Saint Petersburg. He gained a wide fame before 1886. He authored The Shooting Party , his second full-length novel, later translated into English. Agatha Christie used its characters and atmosphere in later her mystery novel The Murder of Roger Ackroyd . First book of Chekhov in 1886 succeeded, and he gradually committed full time. The refusal of the author to join the ranks of social critics arose the wrath of liberal and radical intelligentsia, who criticized him for dealing with serious social and moral questions but avoiding giving answers. Such leaders as Leo Tolstoy and Nikolai Leskov, however, defended him. "I'm not a liberal, or a conservative, or a gradualist, or a monk, or an indifferentist. I should like to be a free artist and that's all..." Chekhov said in 1888. The failure of The Wood Demon , play in 1889, and problems with novel made Chekhov to withdraw from literature for a period. In 1890, he traveled across Siberia to Sakhalin, remote prison island. He conducted a detailed census of ten thousand convicts and settlers, condemned to live on that harsh island. Chekhov expected to use the results of his research for his doctoral dissertation. Hard conditions on the island probably also weakened his own physical condition. From this journey came his famous travel book. Chekhov practiced medicine until 1892. During these years, Chechov developed his concept of the dispassionate, non-judgmental author. He outlined his program in a letter to his brother Aleksandr: "1. Absence of lengthy verbiage of political-social-economic nature; 2. total objectivity; 3. truthful descriptions of persons and objects; 4. extreme brevity; 5. audacity and originality; flee the stereotype; 6. compassion." Because he objected that the paper conducted against Alfred Dreyfus, his friendship with Suvorin ended

Read more