This is a sort of fable, although one without a simple moral. Anna, the daughter of a impoverished drunkard, is married off to a wealthy, much older man, an insufferable, repulsive fellow who, despite his wealth, is stingy with his beautiful young wife.
The peculiar title of the story refers to an honor conferred on civil servants that granted them the status of nobility, “The Order of St. Anna.” Like everything having to do with social status in Russia, there were multiple classes of these honors. The husband in “Anna on the Neck” is angling for an “Anna of the Second Grade,” which was a medal worn around the neck, hence “Anna on the Neck.” I don’t know if that phrase is a literal translation from the Russian. It’s certainly clunky in English. It doesn’t make sense to the ear. Anyway, that’s the background on the title.
The older man that Anna is marrying is the oddly named Modest Alexeitch. That Anna is pretty and young is pleasing to Alexeitch, but he is more interested in social advancement than in sex. And his decision to marry Anna does seem to pay off: She dazzles the local gentry and wins her husband the recognition he craves.
This turn of events gives her confidence–as in “The Kiss,” this story features a protagonist who suddenly enjoys a surge of self-esteem–and she goes on to squish her annoying husband under her thumb.
“Anna on the Neck” is a difficult story to enjoy, in part because the characters are so unlikable. The husband is a grotesque: When first we meet him, his young and beautiful bride is troubled to think that “at any moment this man might kiss her with his thick damp lips, and that she had no right to prevent his doing so.” That’s a very nicely turned sentence, not only expressing her revulsion but also her helplessness, not merely physically but in the eyes of the law and the world. In marrying Modest Alexeitch, she gains a bit of material comfort but at the cost of freedom– what little freedom she ever had.
Chekhov then executes a well-executed twist, as the once-powerless Anna becomes, in essence, master of the house–raised in poverty, she now is the boss of a nobleman. Alexeitch has achieved his social ambitions but at the cost of his manhood: The pompous ass becomes a beast of burden, ridden by his wife.
That turnabout in fortunes would have completed one of Chekhov’s tales from the 1880s. But this is Chekhov writing in 1895, so the story concludes on a much more ambiguous note. Anna, it will be seen, pays a subtle price for her triumph over Alexeitch. (I’m leaving the final details out of it to avoid spoilers.)
In any case, there is no simple moral or satisfying pop! to complete this tale. Chekhov really wasn’t writing like that anymore by 1895.
READ THIS? READ THAT!
Another story concerning a pompous and vain man’s quest for a medal of honor is the short, humorous-adjacent “The Lion and the Sun.” It’s pretty weak tea compared with the rich and occasionally disturbing “Anna on the Neck,” but it offers some contrasts: In 1887, when “The Lion and the Sun” was published, Chekhov was still composing entertainments for popular magazines. By 1895, he was chasing more serious goals, and serving up complex works like “Anna on the Neck.”
A Chekhov Circus 