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The story “The Black Monk” by Chekhov was written in 1893. The work describes changes in the mental state of a person prone to delusions of grandeur. Irrepressible pride, transformed into the image of a mysterious black monk, ultimately became the cause of the collapse of the protagonist’s family and his death.
For a reading diary and preparation for a literature lesson, we recommend reading online a summary of “The Black Monk” chapter by chapter. You can test your knowledge using a test on our website.
Trouble. A. P. Chekhov
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Zemstvo doctor Grigory Ivanovich Ovchinnikov, a man of about 35, thin and nervous, known to his comrades for his small works on medical statistics and his ardent affection for so-called “everyday issues,” was doing a round of wards in his hospital one morning. Following him, as usual, was his paramedic, Mikhail Zakharovich, an elderly man with a fat face, flat, greasy hair and an earring in his ear.
As soon as the doctor began his rounds, one empty circumstance began to seem very suspicious to him, namely: the paramedic’s vest was puffing into folds and stubbornly riding up, despite the fact that the paramedic was constantly tugging and straightening it. The paramedic’s shirt was wrinkled and also bristling; there was white fluff here and there on his long black frock coat, on his trousers and even on his tie... Obviously, the paramedic slept all night without undressing and, judging by the expression with which he now pulled off his vest and straightened his tie, his clothes were constricting him.
The doctor looked at him closely and realized what was the matter. The paramedic did not stagger, answered questions smoothly, but his gloomy, dull face, dull eyes, trembling running down his neck and arms, the disarray of his clothes, and most importantly, intense efforts on himself and the desire to disguise his condition, indicated that he had just got out of bed, didn’t get enough sleep and was drunk, heavily drunk, since yesterday... He was experiencing a painful state of “fumes”, suffering and, apparently, was very dissatisfied with himself.
The doctor, who did not like the paramedic and had his own reasons for this, felt a strong desire to tell him: “I see you are drunk!” He suddenly became disgusted with the vest, the long-skirted frock coat, the earring in his fleshy ear, but he restrained his evil feeling and said softly and politely, as always:
— Did you give Gerasim milk?
“Yes, sir...” Mikhail Zakharych answered, also softly.
Talking to the sick Gerasim, the doctor looked at the piece of paper where the temperature was recorded, and, feeling a new surge of hatred, held his breath so as not to speak, but could not stand it and asked roughly and breathlessly:
- Why is the temperature not recorded?
- No, it’s recorded, sir! - Mikhail Zakharych said softly, but after looking at the piece of paper and making sure that the temperature was not actually written down, he shrugged his shoulders in confusion and muttered: “I don’t know, sir, it must be Nadezhda Osipovna...”
- And last night’s party was not recorded! - the doctor continued. - Just get drunk, damn you! And now you're drunk as a cobbler! Where is Nadezhda Osipovna?
Midwife Nadezhda Osipovna was not in the wards, although she was supposed to be present every morning during dressing changes. The doctor looked around him, and it began to seem to him that the room was not tidy, that everything was scattered, nothing that needed had been done, and that everything was still bristling, wrinkled, and covered with fluff, like a disgusting paramedic’s vest, and he wanted to tear it off. white apron, scream, drop everything, spit and leave. But he made an effort and continued to walk around.
Gerasim was followed by a surgical patient with inflammation of the tissue throughout his right arm. This one needed a bandage. The doctor sat down on a stool in front of him and took care of his hand.
“Yesterday they were walking at the name day...” he thought, slowly taking off the bandage. - Wait, I’ll show you the name day! However, what can I do? I can’t do anything.”
He felt an abscess on his swollen, purple hand and said:
- Scalpel!
Mikhail Zakharych, who was trying to show that he was firmly on his feet and fit for the job, rushed from his seat and quickly handed over the scalpel.
- Not this one! Give me some new ones,” said the doctor.
The paramedic trotted over to the chair on which stood a box of dressings and began hastily rummaging through it. He whispered for a long time about something with the nurses, moved the box on the chair, rustled, dropped something a couple of times, and the doctor sat, waited and felt strong irritation in his back from the whispering and rustling.
- Soon? - he asked. - You must have forgotten them downstairs...
The paramedic ran up to him and handed him two scalpels, but he couldn’t protect himself and breathed in his direction.
- These are not the same ones! - the doctor said irritably. - I’m telling you in Russian, give me some new ones. However, go and sleep it off, you smell like a tavern! You are insane!
- What other knives do you need? — the paramedic asked irritably and slowly shrugged his shoulders.
He was annoyed with himself and ashamed that the patients and nurses were staring at him, and to show that he was not ashamed, he forced a smile and repeated:
- What other knives do you need?
The doctor felt tears in his eyes and trembling in his fingers. He made an effort and said in a trembling voice:
- Go and sleep it off! I don't want to talk to a drunk...
“You can only punish me for the case,” the paramedic continued, “and if I’m drunk, let’s say, then no one has the right to tell me.” After all, I serve? What else do you need! After all, I serve?
The doctor jumped up and, without realizing his movements, swung and hit the paramedic in the face with all his might. He didn’t understand why he was doing this, but he felt great pleasure because the fist hit him right in the face and that a respectable, positive, family-oriented, pious and self-worth man swayed, jumped up like a ball, and sat down on a stool. . He passionately wanted to hit again, but when he saw the pale, anxious faces of the nurses near the hated face, he stopped feeling pleasure, waved his hand and ran out of the room.
In the courtyard he met Nadezhda Osipovna, a girl of about 27, with a pale yellow face and loose hair, on her way to the hospital. Her pink chintz dress was tightly pulled at the hem and this made her steps very small and frequent. She rustled her dress, twitched her shoulders in time with each step and shook her head as if she was humming something funny in her mind.
“Yeah, mermaid!” - thought the doctor, remembering that in the hospital the midwife was being teased as a mermaid, and he felt pleased at the thought that he would now cut off this short-paced, self-loving dandy.
-Where have you been? - he shouted, catching up with her. - Why aren’t you in the hospital? The temperature is not recorded, everything is a mess, the paramedic is drunk, you sleep until twelve o'clock!.. If you please, look for another place! You don't serve here anymore!
Arriving at the apartment, the doctor tore off his white apron and the towel with which he was belted, angrily threw both into the corner and walked around the office.
- God, what kind of people, what kind of people! - he said. - These are not helpers, but enemies of the cause! There is no strength to serve anymore! I can not! I'll leave!
His heart was beating strongly, he was trembling all over and wanted to cry, and in order to get rid of these feelings, he began to calm himself with thoughts of how right he was and how well he had done that he had hit the paramedic. First of all, it’s disgusting, the doctor thought, that the paramedic entered the hospital not just, but under the patronage of his aunt, who serves as a nanny for the chairman of the zemstvo government (it’s disgusting to look at this influential aunt when she, coming for treatment, behaves in the hospital like at home, and claims to be admitted out of line). The paramedic is poorly disciplined, knows little and does not understand at all what he knows. He is drunk, impudent, unscrupulous, takes bribes from the sick and secretly sells zemstvo medicines. Everyone also knows that he is engaged in practice and treats secret diseases in young townspeople, and uses some of his own remedies. It would be nice if he were just a charlatan, of which there are many, but he is a convinced charlatan and a secret protester. Secretly from the doctor, he puts cups on visiting patients and bleeds them, he attends operations with unwashed hands, he always picks wounds with a dirty probe - this is enough to understand how deeply and bravely he despises doctoral medicine with its learning and pedantry.
After waiting until his fingers stopped trembling, the doctor sat down at the table and wrote a letter to the chairman of the council: “Dear Lev Trofimovich! If, upon receipt of this letter, your administration does not dismiss paramedic Smirnovsky and does not give me the right to choose my own assistants, then I will consider myself forced (not without regret, of course) to ask you to no longer consider me a doctor at the N— hospital and to attend to finding me a successor. Respect to Lyubov Feodorovna and Yus. Respectful G. Ovchinnikov.” After reading this letter, the doctor found it short and not cold enough. Moreover, honoring Lyubov Fedorovna and Yusa (as the chairman’s youngest son was teased) in a businesslike, official letter was more than inappropriate.
“Who the hell is Yus?” - thought the doctor, tore up the letter and began to come up with another. “Dear sir...” he thought, sitting down by the open window and looking at the ducks and ducklings, who, swaying and stumbling, hurried along the road, probably to the pond; one duckling picked up some intestine on the road, choked and made an alarming squeak; another ran up to him, pulled the intestine out of his mouth and also choked... Far near the fence in the lacy shadow cast on the grass by young linden trees, the cook Daria was wandering and collecting sorrel for green cabbage soup... Voices were heard... Coachman Zot with a bridle in his hand and a sick note Manuylo, a man in a dirty apron, stood near the barn, talking and laughing about something.
“They mean that I hit the paramedic...” thought the doctor. “Today the whole district will know about this scandal... So: “Dear sir!” If your administration doesn’t fire you...”
The doctor knew very well that the council would under no circumstances exchange him for a paramedic and would rather agree not to have a single paramedic in the entire district than to lose such an excellent person as Dr. Ovchinnikov. Probably, immediately upon receiving the letter, Lev Trofimovich will ride up to him in a troika and begin: “What are you thinking, my friend? My dear, what is this, Christ is with you? For what? Why on earth? Where is he? Serve it here, channel! Drive away! Be sure to drive away!
So that tomorrow he, the scoundrel, will not be here!” Then he will have lunch with the doctor, and after lunch he will lie down on this crimson sofa with his stomach up, cover his face with a newspaper and snore; Having slept, he will drink tea and take the doctor to his place to spend the night. And the whole story will end with the fact that the paramedic will remain in the hospital, and the doctor will not resign.
The doctor, deep down in his soul, did not want such a denouement. He wanted the paramedic’s aunt to triumph and for the council, despite his eight years of conscientious service, to accept his resignation without any hesitation and even with pleasure. He dreamed of how he would leave the hospital to which he was accustomed, how he would write a letter to the newspaper “Vrach”, how his comrades would give him a sympathetic address...
A mermaid appeared on the road. Walking slowly and rustling her dress, she went to the window and asked:
- Grigory Ivanovich, will you admit the sick yourself or will you order them without you?
And her eyes said: “You got excited, but now you’ve calmed down and you’re ashamed, but I’m generous and don’t notice it.”
“Okay, I’ll be there now,” said the doctor.
He put on his apron again, tied himself with a towel and went to the hospital.
“It’s not good that I ran away when I hit him...” he thought on the way. “It turned out as if I was embarrassed or scared... I played a prank on the high school student... Very bad!”
It seemed to him that when he entered the ward, the patients would be embarrassed to look at him and he himself would feel ashamed, but when he entered, the patients were lying calmly on their beds and barely paid attention to him. The face of consumptive Gerasim expressed complete indifference and seemed to say: “He didn’t please you, you taught him a little... You can’t do without this, father.”
The doctor opened two abscesses on the crimson hand and applied a bandage, then went to the women's quarters, where he performed an operation on one woman's eye, and all the time the mermaid followed him and helped him, looking as if nothing had happened and everything was fine. After visiting the wards, the reception of incoming patients began. In the small doctor's waiting room the window was wide open. All you had to do was sit on the windowsill and bend over a little to see young grass a yard away from you. Last night there was a heavy downpour with a thunderstorm, and therefore the grass is a little wrinkled and shiny. The path that runs not far from the window and leads to the ravine seems to have been washed, and broken apothecary dishes scattered on its sides, also washed, play in the sun and emit dazzlingly bright rays. And further along the path, young fir trees, dressed in lush green dresses, huddle together, behind them stand birch trees with paper-white trunks, and through the greenery of the birches, slightly fluttering in the wind, you can see the blue bottomless sky. When you look out the window, the starlings jumping along the path turn their stupid noses towards the window and decide: to be scared or not? And, deciding to be scared, one after another, with a cheerful cry, as if making fun of a doctor who cannot fly, they rush to the tops of the birches...
Through the heavy smell of iodoform you can feel the freshness and aroma of a spring day... It's good to breathe!
- Anna Spiridonova! - the doctor called.
A young woman in a red dress entered the reception room and prayed to the image.
- What hurts? - asked the doctor.
The woman glanced incredulously at the door through which she entered, and at the door leading to the pharmacy, came closer to the doctor and whispered:
- There are no children!
— Who hasn’t signed up yet? - the mermaid shouted in the pharmacy. - Come sign up!
“He’s already such a brute,” thought the doctor, examining the woman, “that he forced me to fight for the first time in my life. I’ve never fought in my life.”
Anna Spiridonova left. After her, an old man came with a bad illness, then a woman with three children with scabies, and work began to boil. The paramedic did not show up. Behind the door in the pharmacy, rustling her dress and clanking her dishes, a mermaid chirped cheerfully; every now and then she entered the waiting room to help with operations or pick up prescriptions, all with an air as if everything was fine.
“She’s glad I hit the paramedic,” the doctor thought, listening to the midwife’s voice. “After all, she lived with the paramedic like a cat and a dog, and it would be a holiday for her if he was fired.” And the nurses seem to be happy... How disgusting!”
In the midst of the appointment, it began to seem to him that the midwife, the nurses, and even the patients were deliberately trying to give themselves an indifferent and cheerful expression. They seemed to understand that he was ashamed and in pain, but out of delicacy they pretended that they did not understand. And he, wanting to show them that he was not at all ashamed, shouted angrily:
- Hey, you there! Close the door, otherwise it's drafty!
And he was already ashamed and hard. Having received forty-five patients, he slowly left the hospital. The midwife, who had already visited her apartment and put a bright crimson scarf on her shoulders, with a cigarette in her teeth and a flower in her loose hair, was in a hurry somewhere from the yard, probably to practice or on a visit. Patients sat on the threshold of the hospital and silently basked in the sun. The starlings were still making noise and chasing beetles. The doctor looked around and thought that among all these smooth, serene lives, like two damaged keys on a piano, only two lives stood out sharply and were worthless: the paramedic and his. The paramedic has now probably gone to bed to sleep it off, but he can’t sleep from the thought that he is guilty, insulted and has lost his job. His situation is painful. The doctor, who had never hit anyone before, felt as if he had lost his innocence forever. He no longer blamed the paramedic and did not justify himself, but was only perplexed: how could it happen that he, a decent man who had never even hit dogs, could hit? Arriving at his apartment, he lay down in the office on the sofa, facing the back, and began to think like this:
“He is a bad person, harmful to the cause; Over the three years that he has been serving, my soul has boiled, but nevertheless, my action cannot be justified in any way. I took advantage of the right of the strong. He is my subordinate, guilty and also drunk, and I am his boss, right and sober... That means I am stronger. Secondly, I hit him in front of people who consider me an authority, and thus I set a disgusting example for them ... "
The doctor was called to dinner... He ate a few spoons of cabbage soup and, getting up from the table, lay down on the sofa again.
"What to do now? - he continued to think. - We must give him satisfaction as soon as possible... But how? He, as a practical person, considers duels stupid or does not understand them. If in that very ward, in front of nurses and patients, I ask him for an apology, then this apology will satisfy only me, and not him; He, a bad man, will understand my apology as cowardice and fear that he will complain about me to his superiors. Besides, this apology of mine will completely undermine hospital discipline. Offer him money? No, this is immoral and looks like bribery. If now, let’s say, we turn to our direct superiors, that is, to the council, to resolve the issue... She could reprimand me or fire me... But she won’t do that. And it’s not entirely convenient for the administration to interfere in the intimate affairs of the hospital, which, by the way, has no right to do so...”
About three hours after lunch the doctor went to the pond to swim and thought:
“Shouldn’t I do what everyone else does under similar circumstances? That is, let him sue me. I am certainly guilty, I will not make excuses, and the world court will sentence me to arrest. In this way the offended person will be satisfied, and those who consider me an authority will see that I was wrong.”
This idea smiled at him. He was delighted and began to think that the issue had been resolved successfully and that there could not be a fairer solution.
“Well, excellent! - he thought, climbing into the water and watching as flocks of small, golden crucian carp ran away from him. “Let him give it... This is all the more convenient for him since our official relationship has already been broken and one of us, after this scandal, still cannot stay in the hospital...”
In the evening, the doctor ordered the charabanc to be laid in order to go to the military commander to play vint. When he, in a hat and coat, completely ready to go, stood in the middle of his office and put on gloves, the outer door opened with a creak and someone silently entered the hallway.
- Who's there? - asked the doctor.
“It’s me...” the newcomer answered dully.
The doctor’s heart suddenly began to pound and he became completely cold with shame and some incomprehensible fear. Paramedic Mikhail Zakharych (it was him) coughed quietly and timidly entered the office. After a short silence, he said in a dull, guilty voice:
- Forgive me, Grigory Ivanovich!
The doctor was confused and did not know what to say. He realized that the paramedic came to him to humiliate himself and ask for forgiveness not out of Christian humility and not in order to destroy the offender with his humility, but simply out of the calculation: “I’ll make an effort on myself, ask for forgiveness, and maybe they won’t drive me away and not will be deprived of a piece of bread...” What could be more offensive to human dignity?
“Sorry…” the paramedic repeated.
“Listen...” the doctor spoke, trying not to look at him and still not knowing what to say. - Listen... I insulted you and... and must be punished, that is, satisfy you... You don’t recognize duels... However, I myself don’t recognize duels. I insulted you and you... you can file a complaint against me with the magistrate, and I will be punished... But we can’t stay here together... One of us, you or I, must leave! (“My God! I’m telling him the wrong thing!” the doctor was horrified. “How stupid, how stupid!”) In a word, submit a petition! But we can no longer serve together!.. Me or you... Serve it tomorrow!
The paramedic glanced sideways at the doctor and the most outright contempt flashed in his dark, dull eyes. He had always considered the doctor an impractical, capricious boy, but now he despised him for his trembling, for the incomprehensible fuss in his words...
“And I’ll give it to you,” he said gloomily and angrily.
- Yes, and serve!
- What do you think? Won't I serve it? And I’ll give... You have no right to fight. Yes, and they would be ashamed! Only drunk men fight, and you are educated...
All of his hatred suddenly rose up in the doctor’s chest, and he shouted in a voice that was not his own:
- Get out!
The paramedic moved reluctantly (as if he wanted to say something else), went into the hallway and stopped there, thinking. And, having thought of something, he decisively left...
- How stupid, how stupid! - the doctor muttered as he left. - How stupid and vulgar all this is!
He felt that he was now behaving with the paramedic like a boy, and he already understood that all his thoughts about the trial were not smart, did not solve the issue, but only complicated it.
"So silly! - he thought, sitting in a charabanc and then playing vint with the military commander. - Am I really so little educated and know so little about life that I am not able to solve this simple question? What should I do?"
The next day, in the morning, the doctor saw the paramedic’s wife getting into the cart to go somewhere, and thought: “She’s going to see her aunt. Let be!"
The hospital managed without a paramedic. It was necessary to write a statement to the council, but the doctor still could not come up with a form for the letter. Now the meaning of the letter should have been: “I ask you to fire the paramedic, although it is not he who is to blame, but me.” It is almost impossible for a decent person to express this thought in such a way that it does not come out stupid or embarrassing.
Two or three days later, the doctor was informed that the paramedic had visited Lev Trofimovich with a complaint. The chairman did not allow him to say a single word, stamped his feet and sent him off shouting: “I know you! Out! I don’t want to listen!” From Lev Trofimovich, the paramedic went to the council and filed a report there, in which, without mentioning the slap in the face and without asking for anything for himself, he informed the council that the doctor had several times in his presence spoken disapprovingly of the council and the chairman, that the doctor was not treating as necessary, goes to sites incorrectly, etc. Having learned about this, the doctor laughed and thought: “Such a fool!” and he felt ashamed and sorry that the paramedic was doing stupid things; The more stupid things a person does in his own defense, the more defenseless and weaker he is.
Exactly a week after the morning described, the doctor received a summons from the magistrate.
“This is really stupid...” he thought as he signed for the receipt. “You couldn’t think of anything more stupid.”
And when he rode to the magistrate on a cloudy, quiet morning, he was no longer ashamed, but annoyed and disgusted. He was angry with himself, and with the paramedic, and with the circumstances...
“I’ll take it and say in court: get the hell out of you all!” - he was angry. - You are all donkeys and you don’t understand anything!
Arriving at the peace chamber, he saw on the threshold three of his nurses, called as witnesses, and a mermaid. Seeing the nurses and the cheerful midwife, who was shifting from foot to foot with impatience and even flushed with pleasure when she saw the main character of the upcoming trial, the angry doctor wanted to swoop down on them like a hawk and stun them: “Who allowed you to leave the hospital? Please go home this minute!” But he restrained himself and, trying to appear calm, made his way through the crowd of men into the cell. The cell was empty and the peace chain hung on the back of the chair. The doctor went to the clerk's room. Then he saw a young man with a skinny face and in a Kolomenko jacket with bulging pockets - he was a clerk, and a paramedic who was sitting at the table and, having nothing to do, was leafing through criminal record certificates. When the doctor entered, the clerk stood up; The paramedic became embarrassed and also stood up.
— Alexander Arkhipovich hasn’t come yet? - asked the doctor, embarrassed.
- Not yet. They are at home...” the clerk answered.
The cell was located in the estate of the justice of the peace, in one of the wings, and the judge himself lived in a large house. The doctor left the cell and slowly walked towards the house. He found Alexander Arkhipovich in the dining room at the samovar. The World Warden, without a frock coat or vest, with his shirt unbuttoned on his chest, stood near the table and, holding a teapot in both hands, poured himself a glass of tea as dark as coffee; Seeing the guest, he quickly pulled another glass towards him, poured it and, without greeting him, asked:
— Do you want it with or without sugar?
Once upon a time, a very long time ago, the world served in the cavalry; now, for his long service in the elections, he held the rank of an active civilian, but still did not abandon either his military uniform or military habits. He had a long, policeman's mustache, trousers with piping, and all his actions and words were imbued with military grace. He spoke, throwing his head back slightly and peppering his speech with a juicy, general “meee...”, moving his shoulders and playing with his eyes; when saying hello or letting him smoke, he shuffled with his soles and, as he walked, clinked his spurs so carefully and tenderly, as if every sound of the spurs caused him unbearable pain. Having sat the doctor down for tea, he stroked his broad chest and stomach, took a deep breath and said:
- Yes, sir... Maybe you would like me, uh... vodka and a snack? Me-uh?
- No, thanks, I'm full.
Both felt that they could not avoid talking about the hospital scandal, and both felt awkward. The doctor was silent. With a graceful gesture of his hand, the world caught the mosquito that had bitten him in the chest, carefully examined it from all sides and released it, then took a deep breath, raised his eyes to the doctor and asked with emphasis:
- Listen, why don’t you send him away?
The doctor detected a sympathetic note in his voice; he suddenly felt sorry for himself, and he felt tired and exhausted from the troubles he had experienced in the last week. With an expression as if his patience had finally snapped, he rose from the table and, wincing irritably and shrugging his shoulders, said:
- Drive away! The way you all reason, by God... It’s amazing how you all reason! Can I really drive him away? You sit here and think that in the hospital I am the boss and do whatever I want! It's amazing how you all reason! How can I drive away a paramedic if his aunt serves as Lev Trofimych’s nanny and if Lev Trofimych needs such whisperers and lackeys as this Zakharych? What can I do if the zemstvo treats us doctors like nothing, if it throws logs at our feet at every step? Damn them, I don’t want to serve, that’s all! I don't want to!
- Well, well, well... You, my soul, attach too much importance, so to speak...
“The leader is trying his best to prove that we are all nihilists, he spies and treats us like his clerks.” What right does he have to come to the hospital in my absence and interrogate the nurses and patients there? Isn't this offensive? And this holy fool of yours Semyon Alekseich, who plows himself and does not believe in medicine, because he is healthy and well-fed like a bull, loudly and to our face calls us parasites and reproaches us with a piece of bread! Damn him! I work from morning to night, I don’t know any rest, I’m more needed here than all these holy fools, saints, reformers and other clowns put together! I lost my health at work, and instead of gratitude they reproach me with a piece of bread! I humbly thank you! And everyone considers himself to have the right to poke his nose into something that’s not his own business, to teach, to control! This member of your council, Kamchatsky, reprimanded the doctors in the zemstvo assembly for the fact that we were leaking a lot of potassium iodide, and recommended that we be careful when using cocaine! What does he understand, I ask you? What does he care? Why doesn't he teach you to judge?
- But... but he’s a boor, my soul, a lackey... You can’t pay attention to him...
- Boor, lackey, yet you chose this whistler as a member and allow him to poke his nose everywhere! You're smiling! In your opinion, all these are little things, trifles, but understand that there are so many of these little things that your whole life is formed from them, like a mountain from grains of sand! I can not do it anymore! I have no strength, Alexander Arkhipych! A little more and, I assure you, I will not only hit people in the face, but I will also shoot at people! Understand that I don’t have wires, but nerves. I am the same person as you...
The doctor's eyes filled with tears and his voice trembled; he turned away and began to look out the window. There was silence.
“Yes, sir, most respected...” muttered the magistrate in thought. - On the other hand, if you judge in cold blood, then... (the peace officer caught a mosquito and, squinting his eyes, looked at it from all sides, crushed it and threw it into a rinsing cup)... then, you see, there is no reason to drive it away. Drive him away, and another one just like him will take his place, and perhaps even worse. If you change a hundred people, you won’t find anything good... They’re all scoundrels (the world patted himself under the arms and slowly lit a cigarette). We must put up with this evil. I must tell you that at present, honest and sober workers on whom you can rely can only be found among the intelligentsia and the peasants, that is, among these two extremes - and nothing more. You, so to speak, can find the most honest doctor, the most excellent teacher, the most honest plowman or blacksmith, but average people, that is, so to speak, people who have left the people and have not reached the level of the intelligentsia, constitute an unreliable element. Therefore, it is very difficult to find an honest and sober paramedic, clerk, clerk, etc. Extremely difficult! I have been serving in justice since the time of Tsar Gorokh, and throughout my service I have never had an honest and sober clerk, although I have driven them out in my lifetime, apparently or invisibly. A people without any moral discipline, let alone principles, so to speak...
“Why is he saying this? - thought the doctor. “We’re not talking to him about what we need.”
“As recently as last Friday,” continued the peace officer, “my Dyuzhinsky did such a thing, can you imagine,.” In the evening he called some drunkards to his place, the devil knows who they were, and spent the whole night drinking with them in the cell. How do you like it? I have nothing against drinking. To hell with you, drink, but why let unknown people into the cell? After all, judge for yourself, stealing some document, bill of exchange, etc. from your files is a matter of minutes! So what do you think? After that orgy, I had to check everything for two days to see if anything was missing... Well, what can you do with the bastard? Drive away? Okay, sir... How can you guarantee that the other one won’t be worse?
- And how can you drive him away? - said the doctor. “It’s easy to drive a person away only with words... How can I drive him away and deprive him of a piece of bread if I know that he is a family man and hungry?” Where will he go with his family?
“Devil knows what, that’s not what I’m saying!” - he thought, and it seemed strange to him that he could not strengthen his consciousness on any one, definite thought or on any one feeling. “It’s because I’m shallow and don’t know how to think,” he thought.
“The average person, as you called it, is unreliable,” he continued. “We drive him away, scold him, hit him in the face, but we also have to put ourselves in his position.” He is neither a man, nor a gentleman, neither fish nor fowl; His past is bitter, in the present he has only 25 rubles a month, a hungry family and subordination, in the future the same 25 rubles and a dependent position, even if he serves for at least a hundred years. He has neither education nor property; He has no time to read or go to church, he doesn’t hear us because we don’t let him get close to us. So he lives day after day until his death without hopes for the best, eating from hand to mouth, fearing that he is about to be kicked out of the government apartment, not knowing where to put his children. Well, tell me, how can I avoid drinking and stealing? Where do principles come from?
“It seems that we are already solving social issues,” he thought. - And how awkward, Lord! And what is all this for?
Calls were heard. Someone drove into the yard and drove up first to the camera, then to the porch of a large house.
“I came myself,” said the peace officer, looking out the window. - Well, it will be good for you!
“And you, please, let me go as soon as possible...” the doctor asked. - If possible, consider my case out of turn. By God, there is no time.
- Okay, okay... But I don’t know yet, my friend, whether I have jurisdiction over this matter. After all, your relationship with the paramedic is, so to speak, an official one, and besides, you oiled him in the performance of his official duties. However, I don’t know very well. Let's ask Lev Trofimovich now.
Hasty steps and heavy breathing were heard, and Lev Trofimovich, the chairman, a gray-haired and bald old man with a long beard and red eyelids, appeared at the door.
“My respect...” he said, breathless. - Ugh, fathers! Come on, judge, give me some kvass! My death...
He sank into a chair, but immediately quickly jumped up, ran up to the doctor and, angrily staring at him, spoke in a shrill tenor:
- I am very, extremely grateful to you, Grigory Ivanovich! I borrowed it, thank you! I will never forget Amen! Friends don't do that! Whatever you want, it’s even dishonest on your part! Why didn't you notify me? What am I to you? Who? Enemy or stranger? Am I your enemy? Have I ever refused you anything? A?
Staring his eyes and wiggling his fingers, the chairman drank some kvass, quickly wiped his lips and continued:
- Very, very grateful to you! Why didn't you notify me? If you had feelings for me, you would come to me in a friendly way: “Darling, Lev Trofimych, so and so, they say... This kind of story and so on...” I would arrange everything for you in an instant and you wouldn’t need this scandal ... That fool, as if he had eaten too much henbane, wanders around the district, slandering and gossiping with women, and you, shamefully, excuse the expression, started the devil knows what, forced that fool to sue! Shame, pure shame! Everyone asks me what’s going on, how and what, but I, the chairman, don’t know anything about what’s going on there. You don’t even need me! Very, very grateful to you, Grigory Ivanovich!
The chairman bowed so low that he even turned purple, then he went to the window and shouted:
- Zhigalov, call Mikhail Zakharych here! Tell him to come here this minute! Not good, sir! - he said, moving away from the window. “Even my wife was offended, and it seems that she favors you.” You, gentlemen, are really smart! You try everything, as if it were smart, but according to principles, and with all sorts of frills, but only one thing comes out of you: cast a shadow...
“You don’t try to do everything in a smart way, but what comes out of it?” - asked the doctor.
- What do we get? Otherwise, it turns out that if I hadn’t come here now, you would have disgraced both yourself and us... You’re lucky that I came!
The paramedic entered and stopped at the threshold. The chairman stood sideways to him, put his hands in his pockets, cleared his throat and said:
- Ask the doctor for forgiveness now!
The doctor blushed and ran into another room.
“You see, the doctor doesn’t want to accept your apology!” - continued the chairman. “He wants you to show your repentance not in words, but in deeds.” Do you give your word that from today you will obey and lead a sober life?
“I’ll give it...” the paramedic said gloomily.
- Look! God save you! You'll lose my place in an instant! If something happens, don’t ask for mercy... Well, go home...
For the paramedic, who had already come to terms with his misfortune, this turn of events was an unexpected surprise. He even turned pale with joy. He wanted to say something and extended his hand forward, but said nothing, but smiled stupidly and left.
- That's all! - said the chairman. - And there is no need for any trial.
He sighed with relief and, looking as if he had just accomplished a very difficult and important task, looked at the samovar and glasses, rubbed his hands and said:
- Blessed are the peacemakers... Pour me a glass, Sasha. However, they ordered me to give him something to eat first... Well, and some vodka...
- Gentlemen, this is impossible! - said the doctor, entering the dining room, still red and wringing his hands. - This... this is a comedy! This is disgusting! I can't. It’s better to go to court twenty times than to resolve issues in such a vaudeville manner. No I can not!
- What do you need? — the chairman snapped at him. - Drive away? If you please, I’ll send you away...
- No, not to drive me away... I don’t know what I need, but this is how, gentlemen, to approach life... oh, my God! It's painful!
The doctor fidgeted nervously and began to look for his hat and, not finding it, sank into a chair in exhaustion.
- Disgusting! - he repeated.
“My soul,” the world whispered, “I partly don’t understand you, so to speak... After all, you are to blame for this incident!” To be slapped in the face at the end of the nineteenth century is, in some way, whatever you want, the wrong thing... He’s a scoundrel, but oh-oh, you must admit, you acted carelessly...
- Certainly! - the chairman agreed.
Vodka and appetizers were served. At parting, the doctor automatically drank a glass and ate a radish. When he returned to his hospital, his thoughts were clouded with fog, like grass on an autumn morning.
“Really,” he thought, “in the last week so much has been suffered, changed and said, only for it all to end so absurdly and vulgarly! So silly! So silly!"
He was ashamed that he had involved strangers in his personal question, ashamed of the words that he spoke to these people, of the vodka that he drank out of habit of drinking and living in vain, ashamed of his not understanding, not deep mind... Returning to the hospital , he immediately began to walk around the wards. The paramedic walked around him, walking softly, like a cat, and softly answering questions... And the paramedic, and the mermaid, and the nurses pretended that nothing had happened and that everything was fine. And the doctor himself tried his best to appear indifferent. He gave orders, got angry, joked with the sick, and his mind was swarming with:
"Stupid, stupid, stupid..."
An. Chekhov, 1888
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Summary
Chapter 1
Master Andrei Vasilyevich Kovrin “was tired and upset his nerves,” and a doctor he knew advised him to go to the village for the spring and summer. It was fitting that there was a letter from Tanya Pesotskaya, the daughter of an old acquaintance, with an invitation to stay in Borisovka.
Kovrin visited his native Kovrinka, and then went to Borisovka, to his guardian and teacher, the gardener Yegor Semyonich Pesotsky, known throughout Russia. The most impressive place on the Pesotsky estate was, of course, the garden in which the owner conducted his experiments in plant selection. From early morning until late evening, “people with wheelbarrows, hoes, and watering cans swarmed here like ants.”
Pesotsky’s great assistant was his daughter Tatyana. Immediately upon arrival, Kovrin spent the whole night with the girl in the garden - frosts were expected, and fires were lit everywhere to save the plants. The young people talked a lot about the past and future life. It seemed to Kovrin that he might well fall in love with Tatyana.
Chapter 2
Even in the village, Kovrin slept little and worked hard. One evening, when the Pesotskys had guests, he told Tatyana an old legend, the main character of which was a black monk.
According to an ancient legend, a thousand years ago “somewhere in Syria or Arabia” a monk appeared, dressed all in black. Soon, this monk began to form mirages that spread throughout the world - the black monk “was seen in Africa, then in Spain, then in India, then in the Far North.” Having left the atmosphere, the ghost set off to wander the Universe. But one of these days the black monk must visit the Earth again.
Kovrin went for a walk alone across the field. Suddenly, “a monk in black clothes, with a gray head and black eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest,” rushed past him. Convinced of the veracity of the legend, Kovrin returned to the house in high spirits.
Chapter 3
When the guests left, Pesotsky started a frank conversation with Kovrin. He admitted that he was worried about the future, and that after his death the garden “won’t last even one month.” Tatyana could not fully take care of the garden, especially if she got married.
Pesotsky was very afraid that a stranger would become the owner of his brainchild, and expressed hope that Kovrin would become Tatyana’s husband. He expressed this “directly, without affectation, like an honest man,” because he loved Kovrin as his son and dreamed of such a husband for his only daughter.
Chapter 4
One day Yegor Semyonich and Tatyana quarreled about something. They had not spoken to each other for a whole day, and “the languor of the owners was reflected in the whole house, even on the people who worked in the garden.” Feeling very awkward, Kovrin decided to act as a peacemaker and gently convinced Tatyana that both were wrong. Consoling the crying Tanya, he “thought that, except for this girl and her father, in the whole world you won’t find people who would love him as their own, as their own.”
After some time, Kovrin noticed how Tatyana and her father were walking in the park and talking peacefully, as if nothing had happened.
Chapter 5
Kovrin went for a walk in the park and in the evening twilight he noticed an already familiar black monk. He spoke to him, and the monk replied that he was a ghost, a product of the master's excited imagination.
Kovrin noticed that the old man was looking at him with admiration, and the monk admitted that the master was “one of those few who are rightly called God’s chosen ones.” Kovrin began to discuss with the elder questions about the meaning of life. When the vision disappeared, he laughed joyfully - “the little that the black monk told him flattered not his pride, but his whole soul, his whole being.”
Returning to the house, Kovrin confessed his love to Tatyana and proposed to her.
Chapter 6
Having learned about the upcoming wedding, Pesotsky was very happy. No one had any free time: fruits began to ripen in the garden, and everyone was busy from morning to evening. In addition, preparations for the wedding were in full swing, and there was a lot of fuss “with the dowry, to which the Pesotskys attached considerable importance.”
Krivin still worked hard and regularly saw the black monk. Communication with him inspired Kovrin and made him believe in his own exclusivity.
After the Assumption Fast, they celebrated a wedding, which “at the insistent request of Yegor Semyonich, was celebrated “with a bang,” that is, with a senseless revelry that lasted two days.”
Chapter 7
After the wedding, the newlyweds moved to Moscow, and Tatyana slept poorly “from being unaccustomed to living in the city.” One night, Kovrin again began to communicate with the monk: he “spoke, turning to the chair, gesticulated and laughed: his eyes sparkled and there was something strange in his laughter.”
In this form, Tatyana woke up and found him very scared. She had long noticed that her husband’s soul was “upset by something.” Kovrin found the courage to admit that he was indeed unwell. Barely waiting for the morning, he went to the doctor.
Chapter 8
In the summer, Kovrin moved to the village again. By that time, he “had already recovered, stopped seeing the black monk, and all he had to do was strengthen his physical strength.” However, Kovrin’s behavior and his attitude in life changed dramatically - the man became lethargic, irritable, and apathetic.
After a walk through the field where a year ago he first met a black monk, Kovrin accused his father-in-law and wife of ruining his life. If earlier the master was haunted by delusions of grandeur, now he has become a pitiful mediocrity, and the former joy of life has been replaced by boredom and despondency.
Tatyana was surprised by the changes that happened to her husband. Quarrels and mutual reproaches began to arise more and more often between spouses.
Chapter 9
“Kovrin received an independent department,” but was never able to start lectures due to a serious illness. His throat was bleeding, but the doctors convinced him that the illness was not particularly serious, and he just needed to not worry and monitor his well-being.
By that time, Kovrin no longer lived with Tatyana, but with another woman, Varvara Nikolaevna, who “looked after him like a child.” She invited her lover to go to Crimea so that he could improve his health.
Kovrin received a letter from Tanya and printed it only in Sevastopol. He sincerely considered his marriage to Tatyana a big mistake and felt absolutely no remorse for taking out “his spiritual emptiness, boredom, loneliness and dissatisfaction with life” on an innocent person for two years. Kovrin remembered the disgusting scene: in a fit of irritation, he told Tanya that her father had persuaded him to marry her. Yegor Semyonich accidentally heard this and, from extreme indignation and despair, could not utter a word. Tanya, “looking at her father, screamed in a tearing voice and fainted.”
In the letter, Tanya said that her father had died and the garden had been given to strangers. She admitted that with all her heart she hated Kovrin, who became the source of all her troubles and suffering, and wished him a quick death.
The letter excited Kovrin, and he, wanting to calm his frayed nerves, sat down to work. However, the usual monotonous work could not distract him from annoying thoughts. Going out onto the balcony, Kovrin saw “a black high pillar, like a whirlwind or tornado,” from which a familiar monk emerged. He reminded the master that he was “God’s chosen one and a genius.”
Kovrin started bleeding from his throat. He remembered “his wonderful science, his youth, courage, joy, the call of life, which was so beautiful.” Kovrin died with a happy smile on his lips.
Stories.
- 1882—Unnecessary victory
- 1882 - Lady
- 1882 - Living goods
- 1882 - Belated flowers
- 1884— Hunting Drama (True Incident)
- 1888—Steppe
- 1888 - Lights
- 1889 - A boring story
- 1891—Duel
- 1891 - Wife
- 1892—Ward No. 6
- 1893— Story by an unknown person
- 1894— Black Monk
- 1895— Three years
- 1896—My life
- 1897— Men
- 1899 - In the ravine
- 1900 - Men (chapters X, XI, unfinished story)
Works of Chekhov A.P.
1900 In 1879, he graduated from high school in Taganrog and moved to Moscow, where he entered the medical faculty of Moscow University.
The beginning of creativity.
Chekhov published the first story in his biography in 1880, in the magazine “Dragonfly”. His talent as a writer was immediately obvious, so he soon began to publish in other publications.
