Calculus of gain and loss: Rothschild's Fiddle
Calculus of gain and loss: Rothschild’s Fiddle
In Anton Chekhov's Rothschild's Fiddle (1894), the protagonist Yakov Ivanov undergoes a series of realization — hinging on an evolving definition of life's gain and loss — as he witnesses the death of his wife, Martha, and as he drew toward his own life's end. To Yakov, the missed opportunity for gain is a loss — and those are thousands, and so much so to conclude, ''[So,] life to a man was a loss — death, a gain. '' Yakov, whose calculation of losses once accounted only for the number of rubles he could have earned, soon realizes that there are more meaningful aspects to the equation of gain and loss.
On ordinary days, when Yakov's life revolves around his daily chores which mostly consist of making coffins and rare occasions of playing the violin in a Jewish orchestra — assigned to him out of absolute necessity due to his misbehavior toward one of the Jews, Rothschild — his losses were materialistic. On days when he could not work, whether it was a Sunday, a holiday, or even a Monday, ''That was a great loss to him.'' — And not because they were devoid of human connection or music he could seek but because he could not make any coffins. He waited impatiently for the police inspector to die, for that would require an expensive coffin. And, there are endless possibilities in this world — and of what could have been — ''wherever, he turned he found losses and nothing but losses.''
Yakov is not a self-conscious person, perhaps semi-conscious — he even hates Jews for no special cause — so his materialistic losses tormented him for nights. He inflicts his own misery on others — Martha, ''She felt that if she lay down Yakov would begin to talk to her about his losses, and would scold her for lying down and not wanting to work.'' and Rothschild, ''He quarreled with him and abused him in ugly language, and once even tried to beat him...''
When Martha becomes sick and he gazes toward her lifeless yet joyous face, he undergoes a momentary realization of the wound he has inflicted upon her. Yet, in his materialistic calculation, this was not a loss to him. This is not to say he was not sorrowful, but his habitual nature compels him to work on his wife's coffin. And in her last words, she reminds him of their dead child and their time together on the bank of the river under the willow tree. Yet, he doesn't recall those memories. Martha's death -- or rather its aftermath -- is a gain to Yakov as, ''everything passed off so nicely and decently and cheaply...'' and he mercilessly touches the coffin with his hand, thinking ''that's a fine job!''
After Martha's demise, when Yakov wanders to the same willow tree — grown old just like him, and remembers a little child. Yet, unlike him, ''this was the same tree, so green and peaceful and sad.'' And when he sat there observing the trifles of nature that he barely cared in the past years, he realizes that he had never truly been present there. Even now, he thinks of the opportunities he missed — rather, his losses, ''But he had not even dreamed of doing all this; his life had gone by without profit or pleasure.'' It's similar to Plath's fig tree—though certainly different from the intoxicating struggle that her character feels. In Plath's story, the fig tree is a representation of many possibilities, Yakov's figs are his losses —he counts them one by one and keeps a record of them — It's the only thing he thinks about. In the former, one is plagued by the future; in the latter, it is the past.
However, while contemplating these losses, Yakov goes beyond to ask,
Why had Yakov scolded and growled and clenched his fists and hurt his wife's feelings all his life? Why, oh why, had he frightened and insulted that Jew just now? Why did people in general always interfere with one another? What losses resulted from this! What terrible losses! If it were not for envy and anger they would get great profit from one another.
This is not the same theme that Yakov's life — if not entirely, then mostly — revolves around. On the contrary, it asks of the gains from one's moral nature and therefore, the losses result of one's demoralized nature. And when Yakov couldn't sleep at nights, it's these losses he thinks of, while playing his violin. His death to him is a gain — as he longer can inflict suffering to others. ''We all have plague... I am still trying to find it; still trying to understand all those others and not to be the mortal enemy of anyone. I only know that one must do what one can to cease being plague-stricken.'' says the character, Tarrou, in Campus's novel The Plague. Tarrou's plague — the harm that one does onto the other — is no different from Yakov's losses. And although Yakov believes that one is only capable of passing on suffering, ''Why should the world be so strangely arranged that a man's life, which was only given to him once, must pass without profit?'' — his last hours proves the contrary. When he treats the Rothschild kindness, and plays his violin for the very last time, he derives a great profit for himself and for Rothschild. His final will, to give his violin to Rothschild, shows that he is capable of passing many gains including his last play. It is the understanding of losses that impels Yakov to do good to others, the same cure that Tarrou advocates, ''we must keep endless watch on ourselves lest in a careless moment we breathe in somebody's face and fasten the infection on him.''
Rothschild's Fiddle is a symbol of gain — a gain passed down by the Yakov. Chekhov asks one to base their gain on something that is also a gain to another. Yakov's kindness toward Rothschild could have led to a greater appreciation for his own music. His fair treatment of his wife could have resulted in a meaningful bond between them. The role of death in this realization is not uncommon and is similar to what we find in Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilyich, among many others. It is the realization of life’s meaning — or its true gain — and Chekhov urges us to seek it not at the end, but from the very beginning.