Sorrow (Chekhov)
Short summary
Rural Russia, late 19th century. Grigory Petrov, a turner, was taking his dying wife Matryona to the hospital through a terrible snowstorm. As he drove, he muttered continuously about how the doctor would receive them, imagining the entire conversation.
During the journey, Grigory realized his wife had died. He felt more annoyed than sorrowful, thinking about how quickly everything passes in life.
He had not had time to live with his old woman, to show her he was sorry for her before she died. He had lived with her for forty years, but those forty years had passed by as it were in a fog.
Grigory turned the sledge around, deciding to head home for burial arrangements instead of continuing to the hospital. He remembered how he had wasted their forty years of marriage in drunkenness and quarreling.
Exhausted and cold, Grigory fell asleep in the sledge. He woke up in a hospital room to discover that his arms and legs had been frozen off. Despite his pleas for more time to live, to return the borrowed horse and bury his wife, the doctor indicated it was too late.
Detailed summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
The journey begins in harsh winter
In the Galtchinskoy district, a turner named Grigory Petrov was taking his sick wife Matryona to the hospital. The journey was arduous, spanning twenty miles through a terrible snowstorm. Visibility was nearly nonexistent as snowflakes whirled in all directions, obscuring the fields, telegraph posts, and forest. The feeble horse struggled to pull its legs through the deep snow while dragging the sledge.
Despite his reputation as the most senseless peasant in the district, Grigory was in a hurry and concerned for his wife. He continuously hopped up and down on the front seat, lashing the horse to move faster. As they traveled, he tried to comfort Matryona, telling her to be patient and assuring her that the doctor, Pavel Ivanitch, would help her once they reached the hospital. The cutting cold wind blew directly in their faces, making the journey even more difficult.
Grigorys imagined conversation with the doctor
As Grigory continued the journey, he began to imagine the conversation he would have with the doctor upon their arrival. In his mind, Pavel Ivanitch would initially be angry at them for not arriving earlier, shouting and threatening to send them away. Grigory rehearsed his excuses about the terrible snowstorm making travel impossible even for a good horse, let alone his poor nag.
In this imagined exchange, the doctor would accuse Grigory of stopping at taverns along the way, which Grigory would vehemently deny, insisting that with his dying wife, he would never waste time drinking. He pictured himself falling at the doctor's feet in gratitude when Pavel Ivanitch would finally agree to treat Matryona. Grigory even planned to offer the doctor a handcrafted birchwood cigarette case or croquet balls as payment, refusing to take money for his work.
The turner believed he knew how to manage the gentry and continued his endless muttering to distract himself from his depressing feelings. Though he had plenty of words on his tongue, the thoughts and questions in his brain were even more numerous. This unexpected sorrow had transformed the usually careless drunkard into a busy man weighed down by anxieties and haste, struggling against the elements of nature.
Sorrow had come upon the turner unawares, unlooked-for, and unexpected, and now he could not get over it, could not recover himself. He had lived hitherto in unruffled calm, as though in drunken half-consciousness.
Discovery of Matryonas death
Grigory recalled that his troubles had begun the previous evening when he had come home drunk as usual. When he started his customary swearing and threatening, his wife had looked at him differently than ever before. Instead of her usual meek, martyred expression, she had given him a stern, immovable gaze like that of saints in holy pictures or dying people. This strange look had prompted him to borrow a horse and take her to the hospital.
As they traveled, Grigory tried to engage Matryona in conversation, asking if her side ached and why she wasn't speaking. He even suggested that perhaps he shouldn't take her to Pavel Ivanitch after all. Something seemed strange about his wife's appearance.
It struck him as strange that the snow on his old woman's face was not melting; it was queer that the face itself looked somehow drawn, and had turned a pale gray, dingy waxen hue and had grown grave and solemn.
Afraid to look directly at her, Grigory eventually reached out and touched her cold hand. When the lifted hand fell like a log, he realized she had died during their journey. "She is dead, then! What a business!" he exclaimed, and began to cry.
Reflections on a wasted marriage
Upon discovering his wife's death, Grigory cried, though he was more annoyed than sorrowful. He reflected on how quickly everything passes in life and how his trouble had barely begun before ending in catastrophe. He regretted that he hadn't had time to show Matryona he was sorry for his behavior before she died.
What with drunkenness, quarreling, and poverty, there had been no feeling of life. And, as though to spite him, his old woman died at the very time when he felt he was sorry for her, that he could not live without her.
Grigory remembered that forty years ago, Matryona had been young, beautiful, and merry, coming from a well-to-do family. They had married because her family was attracted by his craftsmanship. All the elements for a happy life had been present, but he had squandered them by getting drunk after the wedding and continuing in that state for decades. Looking back, he could recall nothing of their forty years together except his drinking, lying on the stove, and quarreling.
He also recalled how his wife used to go around the village begging for bread, something he had sent her to do himself. Now he realized she should have lived another ten years, but instead she died thinking he was truly the terrible husband he had been. As dusk fell and the snow clouds turned gray, Grigory turned the sledge around, understanding that he needed to arrange for a burial rather than continue to the hospital.
Grigorys own tragic fate
As Grigory drove back through the worsening snowstorm, the wind grew colder and the darkness deeper. He could hear the knocking of his dead wife's head against the sledge behind him, a grim reminder of his loss. Exhausted and overcome with cold, he began to think about how he would live differently if given another chance.
"To live over again!" he thought. He would get a new lathe, take orders, and give the money to his wife. But as these thoughts filled his mind, his hands grew numb, and he could no longer hold the reins. Deciding the horse would find its way home on its own, he closed his eyes to rest before the funeral arrangements.
Grigory woke up in a hospital room with bright sunlight streaming through the windows. His first thought was to arrange a requiem for his wife. When he tried to move, he discovered that his arms and legs were gone, frozen off during the journey. The doctor informed him that he had lived his sixty years and that was enough. In his final moments, Grigory pleaded for a few more years to return the borrowed horse, bury his wife, and make the promised gifts for the doctor. But it was too late - the turner's life had come to its end.