A Nervous Breakdown (Chekhov)
Short summary
Moscow, late 19th century. A law student named Vassilyev reluctantly agreed to accompany his two friends, a medical student and an artist, to the city's red-light district. Though he had never visited such places before, Vassilyev had romantic notions about fallen women based on literature.
Upon visiting several brothels, Vassilyev was shocked by the vulgar, mundane reality that contrasted sharply with his idealized vision. He felt disgust rather than pity for the women, and became increasingly agitated. He tried to engage one woman in meaningful conversation but failed. After witnessing a drunken altercation, he fled the district in distress.
That night, Vassilyev experienced intense mental anguish. He obsessed over the problem of prostitution, imagining various solutions like missionary work or marriage. By morning, his distress had escalated into a nervous breakdown. His friends took him to a doctor, who treated his condition as a mere nervous disorder.
"Perhaps all of you are right! But it all seems marvelous to me! That I should have taken my degree in two faculties you look upon as a great achievement; but because I cannot speak of fallen women as unconcernedly as of these chairs..."
Overwhelmed by emotion, Vassilyev burst into tears. The doctor prescribed bromide and morphia, remedies Vassilyev had taken before. He left feeling ashamed but relieved as he dragged himself back to the university.
Detailed summary by chapters
Chapter titles are editorial.
Chapter 1. Vassilyev reluctantly agrees to visit S-Street
One evening, a medical student named Mayer and an art student named Rybnikov visited their friend Vassilyev, a law student, and invited him to accompany them to S-Street, an area known for prostitution. Vassilyev initially refused but eventually relented and joined his friends.
He knew nothing of fallen women except by hearsay and from books, and he had never in his life been in the houses in which they live. He knew that there are immoral women who, under the pressure of fatal circumstances...
Vassilyev had a romanticized view of fallen women, recalling a story where a pure young man fell in love with a prostitute who, feeling unworthy, took poison rather than marry him. He envied his friends' carefree attitudes and wished to experience life as they did for one evening.
Chapter 2. Shock at the mundane reality of the brothels
The three friends arrived at S-Street, where Vassilyev was surprised by the number of brothels with brightly lit windows and music playing. The street was bustling with normal activity - cabmen sat indifferently on their boxes, and passersby walked along without hiding their faces. This indifference to the open display of vice struck Vassilyev as strange.
They entered the first brothel, where they were greeted by a sleepy-looking man in a black coat. Inside, they were met by a young fair girl who invited them into the drawing room.
In the drawing room, they found another woman sitting near the piano, laying out a game of patience. She paid no attention to the visitors. Soon, more women joined them, including one in a bright red dress with a painted face.
Vassilyev was disappointed by what he saw. Instead of the darkness, secrecy, and guilty smiles he had imagined, he found everything ordinary and prosaic. The only thing that caught his attention was the terrible bad taste evident in the furnishings and clothing. When the fair girl asked him to buy her some porter, he agreed out of politeness, though he didn't drink himself.
Chapter 3. Awkward conversations and growing disgust
After leaving the first brothel, the medical student scolded Vassilyev for wasting money on porter, explaining that the women were instructed to ask visitors for drinks as it profited the establishment. The friends then visited another house, where Vassilyev became particularly interested in observing the flunkey, wondering about his life circumstances and how he had ended up working in such a place.
The artist became tipsy after drinking porter and insisted they visit what he considered the best brothel, where he wanted to dance a quadrille. Vassilyev noticed that all the houses had the same style - the same looking-glasses, pictures, and gaudy costumes. He realized this wasn't simply bad taste but a deliberate aesthetic specific to S-Street.
A young lady in a Polish dress approached Vassilyev and sat beside him, asking why he wasn't dancing. When he didn't respond to her flirtations, she asked him to buy her some Lafitte wine.
Chapter 4. Attempting to understand the prostitutes situation
Vassilyev attempted to engage the woman in meaningful conversation, asking about her daily routine - when she slept, when she woke up, and what she ate. He longed to ask more personal questions about her background, whether her parents knew she was there, and whether she was happy or sad, but he couldn't find an appropriate way to phrase such inquiries.
When he finally asked her age, she jokingly replied "eighty" and then burst out laughing, uttering a cynical remark. Vassilyev was shocked that no one else reacted to her coarseness. Feeling repulsed, he moved away from her and began to feel physically uncomfortable - hot, stifling, with his heart beating slowly but violently.
To avoid looking at the women, Vassilyev scrutinized the musicians - a respectable-looking old man playing the piano and a well-dressed young man playing the violin. He couldn't understand how these seemingly decent men could work in such a place without shame.
Suddenly, the woman with white fur laughed loudly and made another vulgar comment. Overwhelmed with disgust, Vassilyev flushed crimson and left the room, telling his friends he would wait for them outside.
"One of two things: either we only fancy prostitution is an evil, and we exaggerate it; or, if prostitution really is as great an evil as is generally assumed, these dear friends of mine are as much slaveowners..."
Chapter 5. Wandering through snowy streets in mental distress
While waiting outside, Vassilyev leaned against a fence and observed the snow falling. He was consumed by a desire to leave the street and go home, but he also wanted to wait for his companions and express his distress to them. He felt that what he had witnessed was far worse than he could have imagined.
It was clear to him, too, that everything that is called human dignity, personal rights, the Divine image and semblance, were defiled to their very foundations—"to the very marrow," as drunkards say...
Vassilyev realized that not only the street and the women were responsible for this degradation. A group of students passed by, and one of them, recognizing Vassilyev as "one of them," drunkenly encouraged him to enjoy himself.
Soon, the medical student appeared in the doorway looking for the artist, who had caused a scene inside. The artist tumbled down the stairs, having apparently been pushed. He was indignant, shouting that he wouldn't allow anyone to hit the women. The medical student begged him to leave, promising never to come with him again.
As they walked home, Vassilyev followed behind his friends, thinking about how they were complicit in the exploitation of these women. He confronted them, asking if they understood how horrible the situation was. He pointed out that each of them, by visiting such places, contributed to the early deaths of these women.
The artist responded angrily, calling Vassilyev a fool and saying there was more vice in his expression than in the whole street. The medical student dismissed Vassilyev's concerns, saying that while it might be immoral, philosophizing wouldn't help. They parted ways at Trubnoy Square, leaving Vassilyev alone with his troubled thoughts.
Chapter 6. Spiritual agony and mental breakdown
Back at home, Vassilyev lay on his bed, shuddering and repeating to himself that the women were alive. He tried to imagine himself as the brother or father of a fallen woman, or even as a fallen woman herself, and was horrified by these thoughts. He felt compelled to find a solution to this problem, treating it as a personal responsibility.
Following his methodical approach to problem-solving, Vassilyev paced his room, recalling various attempts to save prostitutes. He categorized these attempts into three groups: those who bought women out of brothels and set them up as seamstresses (but often made them their mistresses); those who tried to educate the women (who eventually returned to their old lives); and those who married them, which seemed the most effective solution.
But Vassilyev quickly realized the impossibility of this solution on a large scale. Even if he and his friends married some of these women, others from different cities would take their places. And what about the hundreds of thousands of prostitutes in London and other cities?
He then considered the problem from another angle: how to prevent men from seeking out prostitutes in the first place. He imagined himself standing on street corners, preaching to passersby and cabmen about the sin they were enabling. This idea briefly excited him, like an inspiration.
He possessed an extraordinarily fine delicate scent for pain in general. As a good actor reflects in himself the movements and voice of others, so Vassilyev could reflect in his soul the sufferings of others.
But his enthusiasm quickly faded as he recognized the enormity of the problem and his own limitations. He felt overwhelmed by the sheer numbers involved and his own inadequacies - his lack of oratorical skills, his timidity, and the fact that true missionary work required deeds, not just words.
In the presence of that pain life seemed loathsome. The dissertation, the excellent work he had written already, the people he loved, the salvation of fallen women—everything that only the day before he had cared about...
Of all the thoughts that strayed through his mind only two did not irritate him: one was that at every moment he had the power to kill himself, the other that this agony would not last more than three days. This last he knew by experience.
By daylight, Vassilyev was lying motionless on the sofa, staring into space, experiencing a dull, vague anguish in his chest. When he looked in the mirror, his face appeared pale and sunken, with hollow temples and staring eyes that seemed to belong to someone else. The artist knocked on his door around midday but received no answer and left.
As evening approached, Vassilyev, overcome by despair, left his room and wandered the streets. He walked aimlessly, eventually entering a tavern where he drank vodka, but it didn't ease his suffering. He continued walking until he reached the Yauza River, where he contemplated jumping in - not to commit suicide, but to distract himself from his mental pain with physical pain. Frightened by the dark water, he turned back and eventually returned home, where he paced his room until morning.
Chapter 7. Medical consultation and nervous breakdown diagnosis
The next morning, the artist and medical student found Vassilyev moving about his room with his shirt torn, biting his hands and moaning in pain. He begged them to save him, saying he would kill himself otherwise. They took him to see a doctor named Mihail Sergeyitch.
The doctor received them politely but with frigid dignity. He questioned Vassilyev about his family history, asking whether his parents or grandparents had suffered from certain diseases or exhibited peculiarities. Upon learning that Vassilyev's mother had a beautiful voice and sometimes acted on stage, the doctor became more animated.
Vassilyev grew annoyed with the doctor's methodical questioning, feeling it was irrelevant. The medical student explained to the doctor how they had visited S-Street two days earlier, which had triggered Vassilyev's breakdown.
The indifferent, reserved, and frigid tone in which his friends and the doctor spoke of the women and that miserable street struck Vassilyev as strange in the extreme... "Doctor, tell me one thing only, is prostitution an evil or not?"
The doctor replied dismissively that no one disputed prostitution was an evil. Vassilyev became emotional, contrasting how his academic achievements were praised while his inability to speak of fallen women dispassionately led to him being examined by a doctor and called mad. Overwhelmed by self-pity, he burst into tears.
The doctor, treating this as a routine case, gave Vassilyev some medicine to drink and examined him physically. He prescribed bromide and morphia - remedies Vassilyev had taken before. As Vassilyev left the doctor's office, he was beginning to feel ashamed, and the symptoms that had so distressed him were already starting to subside.