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What is happiness in Ivan Ivanovich's opinion. Anton chekhov - gooseberry

Year: 1898 Genre: story

Main characters: veterinarian Ivan Ivanovich, teacher Burkin and landowner Alekhin.

Ivan Ivanovich tells the story of his brother Nikolai Ivanovich at a party, sadly tells, although it would seem that everything is fine with his brother. Nikolai, still in his youth, while still in the service, dreamed of his own house, and for some reason he was present in all his dreams as a symbol of gooseberries. Only these dreams were very mundane, and the goal of everything was just to get away from the world, to live in contentment and satiety. For the sake of this dream, Nikolai Ivanovich went to all the deceptions and meanness, even married "money", tortured his wife with his greed. But now his dream has come true, and his "lordly" behavior saddens his brother Ivan. An intelligent person cannot understand in any way how a brother (and others like him) can be happy to tears when there is so much suffering in the world, moreover, they themselves are the cause of this suffering.

The story of the greedy brother is sadly listened to by Ivan Ivanovich's acquaintances. Nikolai Ivanovich put all the strength of his soul into acquiring an estate, and now he is happy, but this is only a materialistic illusion, in addition, he makes everyone around him unhappy.

Read the summary Gooseberry Chekhov

Two hunter friends get caught in the rain. They decide to visit a friend (Peter Alekhine) to wait out the bad weather. Peter greets them cordially. But it was not very clean - it worked. He invites wet guests to wash themselves, he also goes to the bathhouse. They see him lather his head, and the water turns black. Peter himself is a little confused.

Then they drink tea and rest. Alekhine has a very pleasant companion - a kind and beautiful woman. Over tea, over conversations, Ivan Ivanovich begins to talk about his brother Nikolai. Ivan says that Nikolai has always had a dream - to live on the estate. When Nikolai even looked at magazines, he paid attention to advertisements about land, houses, about the purchase and sale of everything that could be associated with “his house”. He even shared with his brother, they say, can you imagine how great it would be ... But for some reason, a dog rose always appeared in his images. If the garden, then there are bushes in the gooseberry garden. If they drink tea in the evening, then a plate of gooseberries is served to the table. To Ivan, these aspirations seemed strange, like going to a monastery. Only monks strive for spirituality, pray, think little about worldly things, while Nikolai, on the contrary, left this complex world in the details of the estate.

Nikolai Ivanovich tried very hard to make money on the estate. He served and saved every penny. Was the estate worth such sacrifices? But the dreamer often did not sacrifice himself. For example, Ivan, who had little contact with his brother, heard rumors that he got married. In vain Ivan was glad that his brother fell in love, returned to normal life, took up his mind. No, Nikolai married a rich widow. He put all of her money into his own account, and kept her, which was accustomed to a good life, almost on bread and water. Because of this, she soon fell ill and died, but the widower did not experience any remorse. Maybe even a little happy. He could think of nothing but the estate. And he bought it.

So Nikolai Ivanovich achieved his goal. Immediately he began to imagine himself as a real landowner. He demanded that the peasants call him "nobility." Nikolai quickly forgot his own family. Ivan notes that many do this: they will buy an estate, they will forget that their grandfather was a simple peasant, but they talk about themselves, they say, we are nobles. They say stupid official phrases that mean nothing, they just throw dust in their eyes.

Soon, of course, Nikolai Ivanovich was flabby from an idle life, and his character completely deteriorated. He does everything for show, even orders a prayer service for the peasants, and then puts them a bucket of vodka. This detail especially annoys Ivan. That is, it turns out that the "master" for the smallest offense drags his workaholic to the police officer, but once a week he puts out vodka. The peasants get disgustingly drunk, praising the cruel and stupid "master".

The most interesting thing for Ivan is that he knows that his brother is happy. At the sight of his own rosehip, Nikolai even tears of joy appear in his eyes. It is here that Ivan is perplexed ... And not only about his brother, but because of all such "lucky people". They fenced themselves off from life, from the suffering of others, which they themselves often inflict on them, but are happy thanks to some kind of nonsense. Ivan Ivanovich was almost in despair when he saw such a happiness of his brother. Eats-drinks, lives-dies ... Such people do nothing, caring only about the daily. Nothing interests them, not a single person seems to be able to reach them - to pierce the armor of this happiness. And on reflection, Ivan concludes that next to the lucky ones it would be nice to put a man with a hammer to remind how many suffering, unhappy people are in the world. Ivan believes that there should be meaning in life, then happiness will appear, even if there is no material well-being.

The listeners don't quite understand the moral of this story. The owner would like the conversation to be more secular and easy. He sends the guests to sleep.

Picture or drawing Gooseberry

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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 composes "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 in the cycle of stories, now entitled "Little Trilogy", more prosaic texts. 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 to 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.

We are glad to see you, our dear reader! We invite you to get acquainted with A.P. Chekhov

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 acquired a manor, planted gooseberries and began to live a real noble 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 narrator's interlocutors 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, 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.

Gooseberry

From early morning the whole sky was covered with rain clouds; 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, I 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.

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. By the way, I will change too. 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, God 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 pleasure , 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 scamper in flocks over the village, he is no longer a city dweller, and he will be sipped at will until his death. 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.

From early morning the whole sky was covered with rain clouds; 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. 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 rooms with vaults and small windows, where clerks 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. By the way, I will change too. 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 turned 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, God 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, and Alekhine himself, washed, combed, in a new frock coat, walked around the living room, apparently feeling warmth with pleasure , 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 as they rush in flocks over the village on clear, cool days, he is no longer a city dweller, and he will be pulled free until his death. 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 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 and sent something at the holidays, but he hid it too. If a person is interested in an idea, then nothing can 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 some 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 one minute 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, and he keeps asking to be found his leg, and everything is worried; there were twenty rubles in a boot on a severed leg, as if it weren't gone. “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, with a man's house, with 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 there was 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 once we were young, and 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 birthday he served a thanksgiving prayer 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 injury, and tomorrow, on a solemn day, he gives them half a bucket, and they drink and shout hurray, and the drunk bows 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 I 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 gazed at the gooseberry for a minute, silently, with tears - he could not speak with excitement, then he put one berry in his mouth, looked at me with the triumph of a child who had finally received his favorite toy, and said: - How delicious! 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 animal likeness 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 fifty thousand living in the city, not a single one who would cry out, loudly indignant We see those who go to the market for provisions, eat during the day, sleep at night, who talk nonsense, get married, grow old, complacently drag their dead to the cemetery, but we we do not see or hear those who suffer, and what is scary in life happens 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 of malnutrition ... And such an order 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 would be someone with a hammer and would constantly remind with a knock that there are unfortunates, that no matter how happy he is, life will sooner or later show him its claws, trouble will strike - illness, poverty, loss, and no one will see or hear him, just as now he does not see or hear others. But there is no man with a hammer, the happy one lives for himself, and the petty everyday worries excite him slightly, like the wind to the 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 dinner and on the hunt, taught how to live, how to believe, how to govern 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? They tell me that not everything 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! Then I left my brother early in the morning, and from then on it became unbearable for me to be in the city. I am oppressed by the silence and calmness, 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 unable even to hate. I only grieve mentally, I am annoyed, annoyed, at night my head burns from the influx of thoughts, and I cannot sleep ... Ah, 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, “don’t calm down, don’t let yourself be put to sleep! While you are young, strong, vigorous, do not get tired of doing good! There is no happiness and should not be, and if life has a meaning and a goal, then this meaning and goal is not at all in our happiness, but in something more reasonable and great. Do good! And Ivan Ivanitch spoke 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 at dusk, 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 frames once walked, sat, drank tea here, and then 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 delve 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 fumes, 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.

In this article we will introduce you to the work "Gooseberry" by Chekhov. Anton Pavlovich, as you probably already know, is a Russian writer and playwright. The years of his life are 1860-1904. We will describe a summary of this story, analyze it. "Gooseberry" Chekhov wrote in 1898, that is, already in the late period of his work.

Burkin and Ivan Ivanovich Chimsha-Himalayan walk across the field. The village of Mironositskoe can be seen in the distance. Suddenly it starts to rain, and so they decide to go to Pavel Konstantinich Alekhin, a friend-landowner whose estate is located in the village of Sofyino, nearby. Alekhine is described as a tall man of about 40 years old, stout, looking more like an artist or professor than a landowner, with long hair. He meets travelers at the barn. The face of this man is black with dust, his clothes are dirty. He is glad to unexpected guests, invites those to go to the bathhouse. After changing their clothes and washing themselves, Burkin, Ivan Ivanovich Chimsha-Himalayan and Alekhine go to the house where Ivan Ivanovich tells the story of Nikolai Ivanovich, his brother, over tea and jam.

Ivan Ivanovich begins his story

The brothers spent their childhood at their father's estate, in the wild. Their parent himself was from the cantonists, but left the hereditary nobility to the children, having served the rank of an officer. After his death, the estate was sued from the family for debts. From the age of nineteen, Nikolai sat behind papers in the government chamber, but he was terribly sad there and dreamed of acquiring a small estate. Ivan Ivanovich, on the other hand, never sympathized with his relative's desire to lock himself in the estate for life. And Nikolai could not think of anything else, all the time imagining a large estate, where gooseberries were bound to grow.

Nikolai Ivanovich makes his dream come true

The brother of Ivan Ivanovich saved up money, was malnourished, in the end he married not for love to a rich, ugly widow. He kept his wife from hand to mouth, and put her money in his own name in the bank. Her spouse could not bear this life and died soon, and Nikolai, without repentance at all, bought himself the desired estate, planted 20 gooseberry bushes and healed at his pleasure as a landowner.

Ivan Ivanovich visits his brother

We continue to describe the story created by Chekhov - "Gooseberry". A summary of further events is as follows. When Nikolai came to visit Ivan Ivanitch, he was amazed at how much his brother had sunk, flabby and aged. The master turned into a real tyrant, ate a lot, constantly sued factories and spoke in the tone of a minister. Nikolai regaled Ivan Ivanitch with gooseberries, and it was evident from him that he was as pleased with his fate as with himself.

Ivan Ivanovich reflects on happiness and the meaning of life

The following further events are conveyed to us by the story "Gooseberry" (Chekhov). At the sight of his relative, Nikolai's brother was overcome by a feeling close to despair. After spending the night in the manor, he reflected on how many people in the world suffer, drink, how many children die from malnutrition. And others, meanwhile, live happily, sleep at night, eat during the day, talk nonsense. Ivan Ivanovich thought that there must be someone behind the door "with a hammer" and knocking to remind him that there are unfortunate people on earth, that someday trouble will happen to him, and no one will hear or see him, just like he is now does not hear or notice others.

Finishing the story, Ivan Ivanovich says that there is no happiness, and if there is a meaning in life, then it is not in it, but in doing good on earth.

How did Alekhine and Burkin take the story?

Neither Alekhine nor Burkin are satisfied with this story. Alekhin does not delve into whether Ivan Ivanovich's words are true, since it was not about hay, not about cereals, but about something that has no direct relation to his life. However, he is very pleased with the guests and wishes them to continue the conversation. But the time is already late, the guests and the host go to bed.

"Gooseberry" in the works of Chekhov

To a large extent, the work of Anton Pavlovich is dedicated to "little people" and the case life. The story that Chekhov created, "Gooseberry", does not tell about love. In it, as in many other works of this author, people and society are exposed in philistinism, heartlessness and vulgarity.

In 1898 the story "Gooseberry" by Chekhov was born. It should be noted that the time when the work was created is the period of the reign of Nicholas II, who continued the policy of his father, not wanting to carry out the liberal reforms necessary at that time.

Characteristic of Nikolai Ivanovich

Chekhov describes to us Chimsha-Himalayan - an official who serves in the same ward and dreams of having his own estate. this person - to become a landowner.

Chekhov emphasizes how far behind his time this character is, because in the time described, people were no longer chasing a meaningless title, many noblemen dreamed of becoming capitalists, this was considered fashionable, advanced.

The hero of Anton Pavlovich marries profitably, after which he takes the money he needs from his wife and finally acquires the desired estate. The hero fulfills another of his dreams, planting gooseberries in the estate. And his wife, meanwhile, is dying of hunger ...

Chekhov's "gooseberry" is built using a "story in a story" - a special story of the described landowner, we learn from the lips of his brother. However, the eyes of Ivan Ivanovich are the eyes of the author himself, in this way he shows the reader his attitude towards people like Chimsha-Himalayan.

Attitude towards the brother of Ivan Ivanovich

The brother of the protagonist of the story "Gooseberry" by Chekhov is amazed at the spiritual scarcity of Nikolai Ivanovich, horrified by his idleness and satiety of his relative, and the dream as such and its fulfillment seem to this man the pinnacle of laziness and selfishness.

During the time spent in the estate, Nikolai Ivanovich grows wilder and grows old, he is proud of his belonging to the nobility, not realizing that this class is already dying out, and a more just and free form of life is coming to replace, social foundations are gradually changing.

However, most of all the narrator is struck by the moment when Nikolai Ivanovich is served the first harvest of gooseberries. Immediately he forgets about the fashionable things of the time and the importance of the nobility. In the sweetness of gooseberries, this landowner acquires the illusion of happiness, he finds a reason to admire and rejoice, and this circumstance amazes Ivan Ivanovich, who thinks about the fact that people prefer to deceive themselves in order to believe in their well-being. At the same time, he criticizes himself, finding such shortcomings as the desire to teach and complacency.

Ivan Ivanovich ponders about the moral and moral crisis of the individual and society, worries about the moral state of his contemporary society.

Chekhov's thought

Ivan Ivanovich talks about how he is tormented by a trap that people create for themselves, and asks to do only good in the future and try to eradicate evil. But in fact, Chekhov himself speaks through his character. A person ("Gooseberry" is addressed to each of us!) Must understand that the goal in life is good deeds, not a feeling of happiness. According to the author, everyone who has achieved success should have a "man with a hammer" outside the door, reminding him that it is necessary to do good - to help orphans, widows, and disadvantaged people. After all, one day, trouble can happen even with the wealthiest person.

 


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