Ivan Ivanovich and Burkin walk across the field. In the distance you can see the village of Mironositskoye. It starts to rain, and they decide to visit their friend-landowner Pavel Konstantinich Alekhin, whose estate is located nearby in the village of Sofyino. Alekhine, “a man of about forty, tall, stout with long hair, who looks more like a professor or artist than a landowner,” greets the guests on the threshold of the barn, in which a winnowing fan is making noise. His clothes are dirty, and his face is black with dust. He welcomes the guests and invites them to go to the bathhouse. After washing and changing their clothes, Ivan Ivanovich, Burkin and Alekhin go to the house, where, over a cup of tea and jam, Ivan Ivanovich tells the story of his brother Nikolai Ivanovich.

The brothers spent their childhood in freedom, on the estate of their father, who was himself a cantonist, but served the officer's rank and left the children a hereditary nobility. After the death of their father, the estate was sued for debts. From the age of nineteen Nikolai had been sitting in the treasury chamber, but he was terribly sad there and dreamed of buying himself a small estate. Ivan Ivanovich himself never sympathized with his brother's desire "to lock himself up for life in his own estate." Nikolai simply could not think of anything else. He always imagined a future estate, where he certainly had to grow gooseberry... Nikolai saved money, was malnourished, married without love to an ugly but rich widow. He kept his wife from hand to mouth, and put her money in his name in the bank. His wife could not bear such a life and soon died, and Nikolai, without repentance, bought himself an estate, ordered twenty gooseberry bushes, planted them and healed as a landowner.

When Ivan Ivanitch came to visit his brother, he was unpleasantly amazed at how he sank, aged and flabby. He became a real master, ate a lot, sued neighboring factories and spoke in the tone of a minister like: "education is necessary, but for the people it is premature." Nikolai regaled his brother with gooseberries, and it was evident from him that he was pleased with his fate and with himself.

At the sight of this happy man, Ivan Ivanitch "was seized by a feeling close to despair." All the night he spent at the estate, he thought about how many people in the world are suffering, going crazy, drinking, how many children are dying from malnutrition. And how many other people live "happily", "eat during the day, sleep at night, talk their nonsense, marry, grow old, complacently dragging their dead to the cemetery." He thought that behind the door of every happy person there should be “someone with a hammer” and remind him with a knock that there are unfortunates, that sooner or later trouble will happen to him, and “no one will see or hear him, as he is not now sees and does not hear others. " Ivan Ivanovich, ending his story, says that there is no happiness, and if there is meaning in life, then it is not in happiness, but in "doing good."

Neither Burkin nor Alekhine are satisfied with the story of Ivan Ivanovich. Alekhine does not delve into whether his words are true. It was not about cereals, not about hay, but about something that has no direct relation to his life. But he is happy and wants the guests to continue the conversation. However, the time is late, the host and guests go to bed.

On our site you can read a summary of the story "Gooseberry". Links to texts and summaries of other works by A.P. Chekhov - see below in the section "More on the topic ..."

From early morning rain clouds covered the sky; it was quiet, not hot and boring, as it happens on gray, cloudy days, when clouds have long been hanging over the field, you wait for rain, but there is no rain. The veterinarian Ivan Ivanovich and the gymnasium teacher Burkin were already tired of walking, and the field seemed to them endless. Far ahead, the windmills of the village of Mironositskoye were barely visible, on the right a row of hills stretched and then disappeared far beyond the village, and both of them knew that this was a river bank, there were meadows, green willows, estates, and if you stand on one of the hills, you can see from there the same huge field, the telegraph and the train, which from a distance looks like a crawling caterpillar, and in clear weather even the city can be seen from there. Now, in calm weather, when all nature seemed meek and pensive, Ivan Ivanovich and Burkin were imbued with love for this field, and both thought about how great, how beautiful this country was.

- Last time, when we were in the barn of the head Prokofy, - said Burkin, - you were going to tell some story.

- Yes, I wanted to tell you about my brother then.

Ivan Ivanitch took a long sigh and lit a pipe to begin his story, but just at that time it began to rain. And five minutes later it was pouring heavy rain, heavy, and it was difficult to foresee when it would end. Ivan Ivanitch and Burkin stopped in thought; the dogs, already wet, stood with their tails between their legs and looked at them with affection.

“We need to hide somewhere,” Burkin said. - Let's go to Alekhine. It's close here.

- Let's go.

They turned to the side and walked all along the mown field, now straight, then taking the right, until they came out onto the road. Soon the poplars, the garden appeared, then the red roofs of the barns; the river gleamed, and a view of a wide reach with a mill and a white bath was opened. This was Sofyino, where Alekhine lived.

Chekhov. "Gooseberry". Read by D. Zhuravlev

The mill worked, drowning out the sound of the rain; the dam shook. Here near the carts stood wet horses with bowed heads, and people walked, covered with sacks. It was damp, dirty, uncomfortable, and the look of the ples was cold and angry. Ivan Ivanitch and Burkin were already experiencing a feeling of phlegm, uncleanness, discomfort throughout their bodies, their legs were heavy with dirt, and when, having passed the dam, they went up to the master's barns, they were silent, as if angry with each other. In one of the barns a winnowing machine was rustling; the door was open and dust was pouring out of it. On the threshold stood Alekhine himself, a man of about forty, tall, stout, with long hair, more like a professor or artist than a landowner. He was wearing a white, long-uncleaned shirt with a rope belt, underpants instead of trousers, and dirt and straw also adhered to his boots. The nose and eyes were black with dust. He recognized Ivan Ivanitch and Burkin and, apparently, was very happy.

“Please, gentlemen, into the house,” he said, smiling. - I am now, this minute.

The house was large, two-story. Alekhine lived downstairs, in two vaulted rooms with small windows, where clerks had once lived; the decor was simple, and it smelled of rye bread, cheap vodka and harness. Upstairs, in the front rooms, he rarely visited, only when guests arrived. Ivan Ivanitch and Burkin were met in the house by a maid, a young woman so beautiful that they both stopped at once and looked at each other.

“You cannot imagine how glad I am to see you, gentlemen,” said Alekhine, following them into the hall. - I didn't expect it! Pelageya, - he turned to the maid, - let the guests change into something. Oh, by the way, and I'll change. I just need to go to wash first, otherwise I haven't bathed since spring. Would you like to go to the bathhouse, gentlemen, and then they will cook for now.

Beautiful Pelageya, so delicate and so soft in appearance, brought sheets and soap, and Alekhine and the guests went to the bathhouse.

“Yes, I haven't bathed for a long time,” he said, undressing. - As you can see, my bathhouse is good, my father was still building, but somehow there is no time to wash.

He sat down on the step and lathered his long hair and neck, and the water around him turned brown.

"Yes, I confess ..." Ivan Ivanitch said significantly, looking at his head.

“I haven't bathed for a long time…” Alekhine repeated embarrassedly and once again lathered himself, and the water around him became dark blue, like ink.

Ivan Ivanitch went outside, threw himself into the water with a noise and swam in the rain, waving his arms widely, and waves came from him, and white lilies swayed on the waves; he swam to the very middle of the reach and dived, and in a minute he appeared in another place, and swam further, and kept diving, trying to reach the bottom. “Oh my god…” he repeated, enjoying himself. “Oh, my God…” I swam to the mill, talked about something with the peasants there and turned back, and in the middle of the reach lay down, exposing his face to the rain. Burkin and Alekhine had already dressed and were about to leave, but he kept swimming and diving.

“Oh my god…” he said. - Oh, Lord have mercy!

- It will be for you! Burkin shouted to him.

We returned to the house. And only when a lamp was lit in the large living room upstairs, and Burkin and Ivan Ivanovich, dressed in silk robes and warm shoes, were sitting in armchairs, while Alekhine himself, washed, combed, in a new frock coat, walked around the living room, apparently feeling warmth with delight, cleanliness, dry dress, light shoes, and when beautiful Pelageya, noiselessly stepping on the carpet and smiling softly, was serving tea and jam on a tray, only then did Ivan Ivanovich begin his story, and it seemed that not only Burkin and Alekhine were listening to him, but also old and young ladies and military men, calmly and sternly looking out of golden frames.

“We are two brothers,” he began, “I, Ivan Ivanovich, and the other, Nikolai Ivanovich, two years younger. I went on to the scientific part, became a veterinarian, and Nikolai was already from the age of nineteen in the state ward. Our father, Chimsha-Himalayan, was a cantonist, but having served as an officer, he left us a hereditary nobility and property. After his death, the property was taken away from us for debts, but, be that as it may, we spent our childhood in the countryside in the wild. We, all the same, like peasant children, spent days and nights in the field, in the forest, guarded horses, fought a bast, fished, and so on ... Do you know who at least once in his life caught a ruff or saw migratory thrush in the fall, like on clear, cool days they rush in flocks over the village, he is no longer a city dweller, and until his death he will be sipped at will. My brother was grieving in the treasury. Years passed, and he still sat in one place, wrote all the same papers and thought all about the same thing, as if to the village. And this melancholy in him, little by little, turned into a certain desire, into a dream of buying himself a small estate somewhere on the banks of a river or lake.

He was a kind, meek man, I loved him, but I never sympathized with this desire to lock myself in my own estate for the rest of my life. It is customary to say that a person needs only three arshins of land. But a corpse needs three arshins, not a man. And they also say now that if our intelligentsia has a gravitation towards the land and strives for estates, then this is good. But these estates are the same three arshins of land. To leave the city, from the struggle, from the noise of everyday life, to leave and hide in one’s estate is not life, this is selfishness, laziness, this is a kind of monasticism, but monasticism without heroic deeds. A person needs not three arshins of land, not a manor, but the whole globe, all nature, where in the open space he could display all the properties and characteristics of his free spirit.

My brother Nikolay, sitting in his office, dreamed of how he would eat his own cabbage soup, from which such a delicious smell emanated all over the yard, eat on green grass, sleep in the sun, sit for whole hours behind the gate on a bench and look at the field and forest. Agricultural books and all these advices in the calendars were his joy, his favorite spiritual food; he also liked to read newspapers, but he read only advertisements in them that so many acres of arable land and meadows with an estate, a river, a garden, a mill, and flowing ponds were being sold. And he drew in his head paths in the garden, flowers, fruits, birdhouses, crucians in ponds and, you know, all this stuff. These imaginary pictures were different, depending on the ads that came across to him, but for some reason, each of them certainly had a gooseberry. He could not imagine a single estate, not a single poetic corner without the gooseberry.

“Village life has its own conveniences,” he used to say. - You sit on the balcony, drink tea, and your ducks swim on the pond, it smells so good, and ... and the gooseberries grow.

He drew a plan of his estate, and every time he had the same thing on the plan: a) a manor house, b) a man's house, c) a vegetable garden, d) a gooseberry. He lived sparingly: he was undernourished, underdrinked, dressed God knows how, like a beggar, and saved everything and put it in the bank. He was terribly greedy. It hurt me to look at him, and I gave him something and sent him at the holidays, but he hid it too. If a person has an idea, there is nothing to be done.

Years passed, he was transferred to another province, he was already forty years old, and he kept reading the advertisements in the newspapers and saving up. Then, I hear, I got married. All with the same purpose, in order to buy himself an estate with gooseberries, he married an ugly old widow, without any feeling, but only because she had money. He also lived sparingly with her, kept her from hand to mouth, and put her money in the bank in his own name. She used to be behind the postmaster and got used to pies and liqueurs with him, but she did not see enough black bread from her second husband; began to languish from such a life, and after three years she took and gave her soul to God. And, of course, my brother did not for a single moment think that he was to blame for her death. Money, like vodka, makes a person an eccentric. A merchant was dying in our town. Before his death, he ordered to serve himself a plate of honey and ate all his money and winning tickets along with honey so that no one would get it. Once at the station I was inspecting the herds, and at that time one dealer was run over by a locomotive, and his leg was cut off. We carry him to the emergency room, blood is pouring - a terrible thing, but he keeps asking to be found for his leg, and everything is worried: there are twenty rubles in a boot on a severed leg, lest it disappear.

“You’re from another opera,” said Burkin.

- After the death of his wife, - continued Ivan Ivanovich, after thinking for half a minute, - my brother began to look out for his estate. Of course, look out for at least five years, but in the end you make a mistake and buy something completely different from what you dreamed of. Brother Nicholas, through a commission agent, with the transfer of the debt, bought one hundred and twelve dessiatines with a manor house, a man's house, a park, but no orchard, no gooseberries, no ponds with ducks; there was a river, but the water in it was the color of coffee, because on one side of the estate there was a brick factory, and on the other - a bone plant. But my Nikolai Ivanitch was not very sad; he ordered himself twenty gooseberry bushes, planted and healed as a landowner.

Last year I went to see him. I'll go, think, see how and what is there. In his letters, his brother called his estate like this: Chumbaroklov Wasteland, Himalayan identity. I arrived at the Himalayan Identity in the afternoon. It was hot. Everywhere there are ditches, fences, fences, planted with rows of Christmas trees - and you don't know how to get into the yard, where to put the horse. I was going to the house, and a red-haired dog, fat, like a pig, met me. She wants to bark, but laziness. The cook came out of the kitchen, naked, fat, also like a pig, and said that the master was resting after dinner. I go to my brother, he is sitting in bed, his knees are covered with a blanket; aged, stout, flabby; cheeks, nose and lips stretch forward - just look, he grunts into the blanket.

We hugged and cried with joy and the sad thought that we were once young, but now both are gray-haired, and it's time to die. He got dressed and took me to show his estate.

- Well, how are you doing here? I asked.

- Yes, nothing, thank God, I live well.

This was not the former timid poor bureaucrat, but a real landowner, master. He has already settled down here, got used to it and got a taste; he ate a lot, washed in the bathhouse, got fat, was already in litigation with society and with both factories, and was very offended when the peasants did not call him "your honor." And he took care of his soul solidly, in a lordly manner, and did good deeds not simply, but with importance. What good deeds? He treated the peasants for all diseases with soda and castor oil, and on his name day served a thanksgiving service among the village, and then set half a bucket, thought it was necessary. Ah, those awful half buckets! Today the fat landowner drags the peasants to the zemstvo chief for harm, and tomorrow, on a solemn day, he gives them half a bucket, and they drink and shout "hurray" and, drunk, bow at his feet. A change in life for the better, satiety, and idleness develop in the Russian person the most arrogant conceit. Nikolai Ivanovich, who once in the treasury was afraid even for himself to have his own views, now spoke only the truth, and in such a tone, like a minister: "Education is necessary, but for the people it is premature", "Corporal punishment is generally harmful, but in some cases they are useful and irreplaceable. "

“I know the people and I know how to handle them,” he said. - The people love me. As soon as I lift a finger, the people will do whatever they want for me.

And all this, mind you, was said with a smart, kind smile. He repeated twenty times: "we, nobles", "I am like a nobleman"; apparently, he no longer remembered that our grandfather was a man and our father was a soldier. Even our surname Chimsha-Himalayan, in essence incongruous, seemed to him now sonorous, noble and very pleasant.

But it’s not about him, but about me. I want to tell you what a change took place in me during those few hours while I was at his estate. In the evening, when we were drinking tea, the cook brought a plate full of gooseberries to the table. It was not purchased, but its own gooseberry, harvested for the first time since the bushes were planted. Nikolai Ivanitch laughed and for a minute looked at the gooseberry in silence, with tears - he could not speak with excitement, then he put one berry in his mouth, looked at me with triumph as a child who had finally received his favorite toy, and said:

- So tasty!

And he ate greedily and kept repeating:

- Oh, how delicious! You try!

It was harsh and sour, but, as Pushkin said, "the darkness of truths is dearer to us than the elevating deception." I saw a happy person, whose cherished dream came true so obviously, who achieved his goal in life, got what he wanted, who was content with his fate, with himself. For some reason, something sad was always mixed with my thoughts about human happiness, but now, at the sight of a happy person, a heavy feeling, close to despair, seized me. It was especially hard at night. They made a bed for me in the room next to my brother's bedroom, and I could hear him awake and how he got up and went to a plate of gooseberries and took berries each. I realized: how, in essence, there are many contented, happy people! What an overwhelming power! Take a look at this life: the insolence and idleness of the strong, the ignorance and bestialness of the weak, all around is impossibility, crampedness, degeneration, drunkenness, hypocrisy, lies ... Meanwhile, in all houses and on the streets there is silence, tranquility; out of the fifty thousand living in the city, not a single one who cried out was loudly indignant. We see those who go to the market for provisions, eat during the day, sleep at night, who talk their nonsense, marry, grow old, complacently drag their dead to the cemetery; but we do not see or hear those who suffer, and what is terrible in life is happening somewhere behind the scenes. Everything is quiet, calm, and only mute statistics are protesting: so many people have gone mad, so many buckets have been drunk, so many children have died from malnutrition ... And such a procedure is obviously needed; obviously, the happy one feels good only because the unfortunate ones carry their burden in silence, and without this silence, happiness would be impossible. This is general hypnosis. It is necessary that at the door of every contented, happy person there should be someone with a hammer and would constantly remind with a knock that there are unfortunate people, that, no matter how happy he is, life will sooner or later show him its claws, trouble will befall - illness, poverty , loss, and no one will see or hear him, as now he does not see and hear others. But there is no man with a hammer, a happy one lives for himself, and petty everyday worries excite him a little like the wind as an aspen - and everything is all right.

“That night it became clear to me how pleased and happy I was, too,” continued Ivan Ivanitch, getting up. - I, too, at lunch and on the hunt, taught how to live, how to believe, how to rule the people. I also said that learning is light, that education is necessary, but for ordinary people, one letter is enough. Freedom is a blessing, I said, it is impossible without it, as without air, but we must wait. Yes, I said so, and now I ask: in the name of what to wait? Asked Ivan Ivanitch, looking angrily at Burkin. - In the name of what to wait, I ask you? For what reasons? I am told that not all at once, every idea is realized in life gradually, in due time. But who says this? Where is the evidence that this is true? You refer to the natural order of things, to the legitimacy of phenomena, but is there order and legitimacy in the fact that I, a living, thinking person, stand over the moat and wait for it to overgrow itself or to cover it with silt, while, perhaps , could I jump over it or build a bridge over it? And again, why wait? Wait when there is no strength to live, but meanwhile you need to live and want to live!

I then left my brother early in the morning, and since then it has become unbearable for me to be in the city. Silence and tranquility oppress me, I am afraid to look at the windows, because for me now there is no more difficult sight, like a happy family sitting around the table and drinking tea. I am already old and not fit for the fight, I am not even capable of hating. I only grieve mentally, I am irritated, annoyed, at night my head burns from the influx of thoughts, and I cannot sleep ... Oh, if I were young!

Ivan Ivanitch walked in agitation from corner to corner and repeated:

- If I were young!

He suddenly went up to Alekhine and began to shake him first one hand, then the other.

- Pavel Konstantinitch! - he said in an imploring voice, - do not calm down, do not let yourself be put to sleep! While you are young, strong, vigorous, do not get tired of doing good! There is no happiness, and there should not be it, and if there is a meaning and a goal in life, then this meaning and goal is not at all in our happiness, but in something more reasonable and great. Do good!

And Ivan Ivanitch said all this with a pitiful, pleading smile, as if he were asking for himself personally.

Then all three sat in armchairs at different ends of the living room and were silent. Ivan Ivanitch's story did not satisfy either Burkin or Alekhine. When the generals and ladies looked out of the golden frames, who seemed alive in the twilight, listening to the story about the poor official who ate gooseberries was boring. For some reason I wanted to talk and hear about graceful people, about women. And the fact that they were sitting in the living room, where everything - and a chandelier in a cover, and chairs, and carpets under their feet said that these same people who were now looking out of the frames once walked, sat, drank tea here, that beautiful Pelageya was now walking silently here - that was better than any stories.

Alekhine was very sleepy; he got up early, at three o'clock in the morning, and now his eyes were drooping, but he was afraid that the guests might tell something interesting without him, and left. Whether it was clever, whether what Ivan Ivanitch had just said was true, he did not go into it; the guests were not talking about cereals, not about hay, not about tar, but about something that had no direct relation to his life, and he was glad and wanted them to continue ...

“But it's time to sleep,” said Burkin, getting up. - Let me wish you good night.

Alekhine said goodbye and went downstairs to his room, while the guests remained upstairs. They were both given a large room for the night, where there were two old wooden beds with carved decorations and in the corner there was an ivory crucifix; their beds, wide, cool, made by beautiful Pelageya, smelled pleasantly of fresh linen.

Ivan Ivanitch undressed in silence and lay down.

- Lord, forgive us sinners! - he said and took cover with his head.

His pipe, lying on the table, smelled strongly of tobacco fume, and Burkin did not sleep for a long time and still could not understand where this heavy smell came from.

The rain pounded on the windows all night.

The end of the 19th century is a time marked by a period of stagnation in the social and political life of Russia. In these difficult days for our Fatherland, the famous writer A.P. Chekhov is trying to convey good ideas to thinking people. So, in the story "Gooseberry" he asks the reader questions about the meaning of life and true happiness, exposing the conflict between material and spiritual benefits.

Included in the "little trilogy" the story of A.P. Chekhov's "Kryzhovnik" was published by the publishers of "Russian Thought" in 1898. It was created by a writer in the village of Melikhovo, Moscow region. This story is a continuation of the work "Man in a Case", which also tells about a dead human soul with a distorted concept of happiness.

It is believed that Chekhov took as the basis of his plot the story that the famous lawyer Anatoly Koni told the writer L.N. Tolstoy. This story tells about one official who, like N.I. Chimshe-Himalayan, all his life he put aside savings for the sake of realizing his dream. The official believed that the ceremonial uniform with gold embroidery would bring him honor and respect, make him happy. But during his lifetime, the "happy" thing was not useful to him. Moreover, the uniform, tarnished by naphthalene, was put on the poor man only at his own funeral.

Genre and direction

The work "Gooseberry" is written in the genre of a story and belongs to such a direction in literary creativity as realism. The laconic prosaic form allows the author to express his thoughts as concisely as possible, and as a result, to attract the attention of the reader, to reach out to his heart.

As you know, a story is distinguished from other genres by the presence of only one storyline, the presence of one or two main characters, a small number of secondary characters and a small volume. We see all these signs in Gooseberry.

About what?

Veterinarian Ivan Ivanovich Chimsha-Himalayan and gymnasium teacher Burkin are caught in the field by the rain. The heroes wait out the bad weather at the estate of Alekhine, a friend of Ivan Ivanovich. Then the doctor shares with fellow guests the story of his brother, whose fate was sad.

From childhood, the brothers learned one simple truth - you have to pay for pleasure. They came from a poor family, they tried to provide for themselves.

The youngest of the brothers, Nikolai Ivanovich, was especially eager to get rich. The limit of all his dreams was a manor and a garden in which ripe and fragrant gooseberries would grow. For the sake of achieving his goal, Chimsha-Himalaya even ruined his wife, albeit not on purpose. He saved on everything, it seemed, he did not notice anything around, except for advertisements for the sale of "tithes of arable land and meadows with an estate." In the end, he did manage to acquire the coveted plot. On the one hand, the main character is happy, he eats his gooseberries with pleasure, pretends to be a stern but fair master ... But on the other hand, the current situation of Nikolai Ivanovich does not please his brother, who came to visit. Ivan Ivanovich understands that there are things whose value is much more significant than the pleasure of eating his own gooseberry. It is at this moment that the conflict between the material and the spiritual reaches its climax.

Composition

The plot of "Gooseberry" is based on the "story within a story" principle. Non-linear storytelling helps the author to deepen the meaning of the work.

In addition to the story of the main character of the story, Nikolai Ivanovich Chimshi-Himalayan, there is another reality in which Ivan Ivanovich, Alekhine and Burkin live. The last two give their assessment of what happened to Nikolai Ivanovich. Their ideas about life are the most common version of human existence. It is important to pay attention to the exposition of the story, which contains a detailed description of nature. The landscape on the estate of Nikolai Ivanovich confirms the spiritual poverty of the newly-made master.

The main characters and their characteristics

1. Chimsha-Himalayan Ivan Ivanovich - a representative of the nobility who serves in the medical field - heals animals. He is also a character in the stories "Man in a Case" and "About Love". This hero performs important functions in the story "Gooseberry". Firstly, he is a storyteller, and secondly, a hero-reasoner, since from his lips the reader can hear the author's appeal, his main thoughts. For example, the words of Ivan Ivanovich about the transience of life, the need to act and live here and now.
2. Chimsha-Himalayan Nikolay Ivanovich - a representative of the nobility, a petty official, and then a landowner. He is two years younger than his brother, "a kind, meek man." The character sought to return to the village - to lead the quiet life of a landowner. He dreamed of how he would feed the ducks on the pond, walk around the garden, bathing in the rays of the warm sun, pick ripe gooseberries from branches still wet from the morning dew. For the sake of a dream, he denied himself everything: he saved, he did not marry for love. After the death of his wife, he was finally able to buy the estate of his dreams: he settled down, began to grow fat and take airs, talk about his noble origin, and asked the peasants to refer to himself "Your Honor."

Topics

This work touches upon themes of happiness, dreams, search for the meaning of life. All three themes are closely related to each other. The dream of his own estate with gooseberries led Nikolai Ivanovich to his happiness. He not only ate gooseberries with pleasure, but also reasoned about public education with an intelligent air, sincerely believed that thanks to him, every simple man could become a full-fledged member of society. Only here the happiness of the protagonist is false: it is just peace, idleness, which lead him to stagnation. Time around him literally stopped: he does not need to bother himself, try and deny himself anything, because now he is a master. Earlier, Nikolai Ivanovich was firmly convinced that happiness must be won, deserved. Now, in his opinion, happiness is a gift from God, and only a chosen one like him can live in paradise on earth. That is, his dubious achievement became only fertile soil for selfishness. A man lives only for himself. Having become rich, he became impoverished spiritually.

One can also highlight such a topic as indifference and responsiveness... The narrator, reasoning on this topic, notes that neither Alekhine nor Burkin fully understood his ideas, showed passivity towards a very instructive story about the meaning of life. Ivan Ivanovich Chimsha-Himalayan himself encourages everyone to seek happiness throughout their lives, to remember people, and not just about themselves.

And thus, the hero admits, the meaning of life lies not in satisfying carnal desires, but in more lofty things, for example, helping others.

Problems

1. Greed and vanity... The main problem in the story "Gooseberry" is human misconceptions that true happiness is material wealth. So, Nikolai Ivanovich worked all his life for money, lived in the name of them. As a result, his ideas turned out to be erroneous, which is why he ate sour gooseberries, smiling and saying: "Oh, how delicious!" In his view, only money gives a person significance: being a master, he himself began to extol himself, as if without a manor
2. An equally important problem is selfishness... The main character, like many people on earth, forgot or did not want to remember the misfortunes of others. He followed this rule: I feel good, but the others don't care.

Meaning

The main idea of \u200b\u200bA.P. Chekhov is expressed in Ivan Ivanovich's phrase that one cannot rejoice when others feel bad. You cannot close your eyes to other people's problems, it is important to remember that trouble can knock on any house. It is important to be able to respond to requests for help in time, so that you can be helped in difficult times. Thus, the author expresses his contempt for constant rest and stagnation in human life. Happiness, according to Chekhov, is a movement, an action, at the same time aimed at performing good and just deeds.

The same idea can be traced in all parts of the trilogy.

Criticism

The story "Gooseberry" was positively assessed V. I. Nemirovich-Danchenko:

It's good, because there is also a flavor inherent in you, both in the general tone and background, and in the language, and also because there are very good thoughts ...

But not only critics and literary critics spoke about what they read. Ordinary people actively wrote letters to Anton Pavlovich. For example, once the writer received a letter from Natalia Dushina, a student of a technical school. Here is her quote:

When I read something of yours, I always feel that I lived with these people, that I want to say the same about them that you said, and I am not the only one who feels this, and this is because you write only the truth and everything said not as you said - will be a lie ...

The most detailed description of Chekhov's creative manner in describing the realities of Russian life was given by B. Eichenbaum in his article in the magazine "Zvezda" :

Over the years, Chekhov's artistic diagnoses were refined and deepened. The disease of Russian life took on sharper and brighter outlines under his pen.<…> From diagnoses Chekhov began to move on to treatment issues. This came out with particular force in the story "Gooseberry".<…> Chekhov never composed - he heard these words in life and was delighted with them, because he himself was this man with a hammer. He knocked at the very heart of Russia - and got through.

He spoke especially emotionally about the story G.P. Berdnikov,declaring that it is “a shame to be happy” in the reality that Chekhov describes. :

The drama ... unfolds before us in the story "Gooseberry".<…> However, under Chekhov's pen, the dream-passion that gripped the official so absorbs him that in the end it completely deprives him of his human appearance and likeness.

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Anton Chekhov is one of the few masters of the short genre. "Gooseberry" by Chekhov, whose main characters demonstrate simple philosophical truths, belongs to the genre of a capacious and short story. The work is "Little Trilogy" together with other texts of the writer - "Man in a Case" and "On Love".

For the first time "Gooseberry" appeared in the magazine "Russian Thought" at the end of the 19th century. The story is based on a real story that happened to a Russian official.

About The Little Trilogy

Anton Chekhov lived a short life. Having created laconic, meaningful works, the writer expressed in his texts all aspects of Russian culture of the late 19th century. "Little Trilogy" represents the skill of the Russian writer: "small form" and ideological depth are combined with the simplicity of the plot. The plot is a pretext for reflection. The pain of life is combined with humor, satirical digressions.

In literary criticism, it is emphasized that the writer conceived more prosaic texts in the cycle of stories now titled "Little Trilogy". However, the "trilogy" is the result of chance. 6 years before his death (Chekhov wrote "Gooseberry" in 1898, and the writer died in 1904), the author was unable to bring the idea to completion.

The attentive reader will notice that leitmotifs or themes are repeated in Chekhov's stories. The writer seeks to convey to the reader the main idea: a person must constantly move forward, improve morally in order to better understand the meaning of life. In culture, periods of decline are periodically repeated, alternating with stages of the Renaissance (in the broad sense of the term). According to the researcher N. Aleksandrov, decline occurs at the “passes of large mental cycles”, ending eras and opening new centuries. It can be assumed that Anton Chekhov also groped for this idea, presenting it in the form of an artistic image.

Background of the creation of the story "Gooseberry"

Anton Chekhov wrote this work, inspired by a story told by Anatoly Koni (a Russian lawyer) to another eminent writer, Leo Tolstoy. The lawyer spoke of an official whose only dream was to acquire a uniform. The employee spent all the money that had been deposited on sewing a suit, but he never put it on. The official received a uniform, but no balls or evenings were planned for the near future. The suit was hung in the closet, but the mothballs ruined the gold embroidery. After 6 months, the official died, for the first time, already a corpse, trying on the coveted uniform.

Anton Chekhov remade the story told by Anatoly Koni: in the story, an official dreams of having a house decorated with goose bushes.

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The story received high marks from critics. Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko noticed that he had found “good thoughts” and “flavor” in “Gooseberry”. The work has been translated into many European languages. In 1967, Leonid Pchelkin also directed a film based on Chekhov's "Gooseberry", the main characters of which will be discussed below.

However, to begin with, let's say a few words about the plot of the story.

The plot and the main idea of \u200b\u200bChekhov's work

The reader sees the village of Mironositskoye. Two friends are walking here, who express a desire to visit a friend. The walking companion is a landowner and is located in an estate, not far from the village. Over a cup of tea, one of the visitors told his friends about his brother.

In childhood, the two brothers lived in their father's house. He had the rank of officer and managed to earn the right to hereditary nobility for children. The father went into debt during his lifetime, so the estate was confiscated after the death of the man. Since then, a dream has settled in the soul of the storyteller's brother: to buy a small house, decorate the estate with gooseberry bushes and live there in peace and quiet.

The brother married a wealthy widow. Indulging in dreams, Nikolai (that was the name of the storyteller's brother) put almost all his savings in the bank, went hungry, and his wife went hungry with him. The unfortunate woman could not stand the torment and soon died. After the death of his unloved wife, Nikolai was left alone with the deceased's money. Then the visitor's brother realized his old dream: he bought a manor, planted gooseberries and began to live a real lordly life.

Ideas expressed in the work

The narrator says that despite the contented look of his brother, Ivan Ivanovich (that was the name of the visitor who told the story) felt sorry for this man. The narrator thought that this is how happy and limited people live in the world, calmly eating gooseberries, and somewhere children die of hunger. The world seems to be divided into people who safely eat, drink, build families, raise children and bury deceased relatives, and into people who every day experience grief and poverty.

Then Ivan Ivanovich concludes that if life has meaning, then it is not hidden in happiness. The only meaning is in doing good deeds.

The interlocutors of the narrator are unhappy with the boring stories about the landowner. Friends are eager to talk about light topics, about women, about grace. Friends drink tea, contemplating the work of a charming maid. The atmosphere of the house is conducive to lightness and relaxation.

"Gooseberry" by Chekhov and the central characters of the story

In the center of the narration is the story of two brothers Ivan and Nikolay Chimsh-Himalayan. Contrary to the kinship that binds the key characters of Chekhov's "Gooseberry", the brothers are completely different people. The only aspect that unites the characters is the patronymic and surname.

The main reason for the difference in characters is the difference in views on the meaning of life. The "Little Trilogy" and the stories included in the cycle are linked by the theme of "case". Anton Chekhov reveals the painful truth: so many people live for petty goals, base interests. Such a life is more like a dream. Therefore, the writer wants people, readers to open their eyes and realize what is really important in life and what is secondary.

Ivan Ivanovich

Ivan is a nobleman by birth. However, the hero's father became impoverished, and the descendants lost the estate, which the father, like the noble status, received in the officer's service. Now Ivan Ivanovich works as a veterinarian.

The main ideas of the work are expressed from the mouth of this character. Ivan Ivanovich reflects on his brother's lifestyle, which makes the narrator feel pity. Anton Chekhov believes that the time in which the characters live and act is a stagnant period.

The cycle of the writer's stories reflects the values \u200b\u200bof social life, features of social vices, decadence of moral foundations.

Therefore, Ivan Ivanovich expresses regret that the years do not allow him to embark on the path of an active struggle against the vices that have swept society. The hero told his friends the story of his brother, clearly demonstrating these vices. But Ivan reveals moral gaps not only in society and others, but also in himself.

Nikolay Ivanovich

The storyteller's brother. In his youth, Nikolai is a kind person, a diligent hard worker. A nobleman who served as an official. Captured by material values, Nicholas was eager to buy an estate, grow goose bushes and live a noble life. For this, the official married a rich widow. The wife - ugly and unloved - suffered from her husband's actions: in a fit of dreams, Nikolai put the widow's money into a bank account, and starved himself and his wife. His wife died, and Nikolai bought the coveted estate.

After achieving the desired, Nikolai becomes a landowner, losing all the remaining positive qualities.

Alekhine

A friend of Ivan and Burkin, to whom friends came to visit. Alekhine owns an estate in which an atmosphere of lightness reigns. Here the main characters of Chekhov's "Gooseberry" drink tea and listen to Ivan Ivanovich's story. He calls on Alekhine to realize the true meaning of life, which consists in performing good deeds.

Alekhine is a good-looking man, about forty years old. The landowner's interests are in the economy. The man is so carried away by the affairs of the estate, hay and tar that he forgets to take care of himself and wash himself.

Burkin

By profession - a teacher, a friend of the protagonist of "Gooseberry". In fact, Burkin and the hospitable landowner are "case", according to Chekhov. The high school teacher is indifferent to the story of Ivan Ivanovich. The man is fascinated by grace and women.

Pelageya

A servant in the house of a landowner - a friend of Burkin and Chimshi-Himalayan. The girl is beautiful and neat, her grace surprises and delights Alekhine's guests. Pelageya takes care of guests, she is soft and meek. In the end, the beauty of the girl overlaps the moral and social themes of Ivan's story.

Teacher Burkin and veterinarian Ivan Ivanovich Chimsha-Himalayan, whose conversation served as an external frame for the "Man in a Case," once again went out to hunt, fell into a field under the rain. They turned aside and soon reached Sofyino, the estate of the landowner Alyokhin.

Alekhine, a man of about forty, was in charge of the mill. Seeing two guests, he warmly greeted them and took them to the house, where the beautiful maid Pelageya brought them sheets and soap. Both hunters and Alekhin went to the bathhouse, where they washed, swam, and then pleasantly relaxed returned to the rooms, changed into robes and shoes, lit a lamp and began to drink tea in the chairs. In the midst of such a calming atmosphere, Ivan Ivanovich began to tell the story of his brother, which he promised to tell Burkin during the last hunt.

His brother, Nikolai Ivanovich, from the age of 19, entered the government. Both of them spent their childhood in the village, on their father's estate. After his father's death, the estate was repaid for debts, but Nikolai, from his youth accustomed to rural life, all the long years of his service ardently dreamed of buying himself a small manor house somewhere near a river or lake. His imagination drew him his own fragrant cabbage soup, a dream on green grass, a beautiful view of the field and the forest, which would open from a bench at the gate. Nicholas' favorite reading was agricultural books and newspapers with advertisements for the sale of estates. And in all his dreams of his own estate, for some reason he certainly drew a gooseberry that would grow there ...

"Gooseberry". Screen adaptation of the story by A.P. Chekhov. 1967

Nikolai began to save on everything, poorly ate and dressed, and put his salary in the bank. After forty years, with the same purpose to buy himself an estate with gooseberries, he married an old, ugly widow, only because she had money. He lived sparingly with her, kept her from hand to mouth, and put his wife's money in a bank account. From such a life, she began to wither, and she died three years later.

Soon after, Nikolai finally bought the estate, but not quite what he wanted. He bought one hundred and twelve acres with a manor house, with a man's house, with a park, but there was no orchard, no gooseberries, no ponds with ducks. There were two factories nearby — a brick factory and a bone factory — so the water in the river flowing nearby was the color of coffee. But Nikolai was so happy that he paid little attention to it. Having ordered himself twenty gooseberry bushes for planting, he moved to the village.

Last year Ivan Ivanovich visited his brother at his estate. He saw Nicholas flabby and aged. This was no longer the old timid poor bureaucrat, but a real master who demanded that the peasants call him "your honor." In the evening, the brother made Ivan Ivanovich sit down to drink tea, and the cook brought to the table a full plate of gooseberries - her own, collected for the first time since the bushes were planted. Nikolai gazed at the gooseberry for a minute in silence, with tears - he could not speak from excitement, then he put one berry in his mouth, looked at his brother with triumph and said: "How delicious!"

Ivan Ivanovich, having tasted the gooseberry, felt that it was tough and sour. But before him sat a happy man who thought that his cherished dream had come true, and he was now glad to deceive himself. At night, Ivan Ivanovich was laid next to his brother's room, and he heard him not sleeping, but getting up, going up to a plate of gooseberries and taking berries each. Ivan Ivanovich reflected on how many people who, in the midst of ignorance, bestiality and poverty of life, are satisfied with everything, are calm and do not even think to be indignant. Obviously, he thought, the happy only felt good because the unfortunate carried their burden in silence. And it is necessary that at the door of every contented, happy person there would be someone with a hammer and would constantly remind with a knock that there are unfortunates, that, no matter how happy he is, sooner or later trouble will befall him - illness, poverty, losses, and no one will see or hear him, just as now he does not see and hear others.

That night, Ivan Ivanovich realized how satisfied and happy he himself was up to now. Like his brother, he believed that learning is light, that education is necessary, but for ordinary people, one letter is enough. Freedom is a blessing, without it it is impossible, as without air, but you have to wait. Now he thought: why wait? Is there order and legality in the fact that living, thinking people stand over the moat and wait for it to overgrow itself or to cover it with silt? Wouldn't it be better to try to jump over the dew or build a bridge over it?