Easter Eve (Chekhov)
Short summary
Rural Russia, Easter night. A man waited for a ferry to cross the River Goltva, which had flooded its banks. The night was beautiful, with countless stars reflected in the water and Easter celebrations beginning on the opposite shore.
Eventually, the ferryman Ieronim arrived. As they crossed the river, Ieronim revealed that his dear friend, the monk Nikolay, had died that day during the Easter service.
Ieronim was deeply grieving.
"The Holy Scripture points clearly to the vanity of sorrow and so does reflection, but why does the heart grieve and refuse to listen to reason? Why does one want to weep bitterly?"
He explained that Nikolay had possessed a rare gift for writing beautiful hymns of praise, but no one in the monastery appreciated his talent except Ieronim. The narrator reached the monastery for the Easter service while Ieronim remained at his post, unable to attend the celebration or hear the Easter hymn his friend had loved so much. The next morning, as the narrator returned on the ferry, he found Ieronim still working, exhausted but dutifully continuing his task.
Detailed summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
Waiting by the flooded river on Easter Eve
On Easter Eve, the narrator stood on the bank of the River Goltva, waiting for the ferry to cross. The spring waters had transformed the normally modest stream into a vast lake, flooding the surrounding areas. Despite the darkness, the narrator could make out trees, water, and people in the distance.
The world was lighted by the stars, which were scattered thickly all over the sky. I don't remember ever seeing so many stars. Literally one could not have put a finger in between them.
Near the narrator stood a peasant in a high hat with a thick knotted stick. They conversed briefly about the delayed ferry. The peasant explained he was waiting not for the ferry but for the monastery illumination, as he couldn't afford the five-kopeck ferry fare. The narrator offered to pay for him, but the peasant declined, asking instead that the narrator put a candle in the monastery on his behalf.
Suddenly, a deep bell sound came from across the river, followed by a cannon shot. The peasant crossed himself and said, "Christ is risen." More bells began to ring, and lights appeared on the opposite bank, moving and twinkling in the darkness.
Meeting Ieronim the ferryman
Finally, the ferry appeared in the darkness, moving slowly toward them. When it reached the bank, the narrator saw a tall monk in a cassock and conical cap holding the rope. This was Ieronim, who apologized for the delay. With no other passengers waiting, the narrator boarded the ferry, and Ieronim began pulling them across the river.
As they crossed, they observed the Easter celebrations beginning on the opposite shore. Barrels of tar were burning like campfires, their crimson reflections stretching across the water. Suddenly, a golden rocket shot into the sky and burst into sparks, followed by cheers from the bank. Ieronim sighed at the beauty of it all, noting how on Easter one rejoices in every vanity.
Then, in a melancholy tone, Ieronim asked the narrator why, even in times of great rejoicing, a man cannot forget his sorrows. When the narrator inquired about his troubles, Ieronim revealed that a special sorrow had befallen the monastery that day.
"As a rule only the same as all men, kind sir, but today a special sorrow has happened in the monastery: at mass, during the reading of the Bible, the monk and deacon Nikolay died."
The death of monk Nikolay
The narrator responded that Nikolay's death was God's will and suggested that dying at Easter meant going straight to heaven. Ieronim agreed but remained grief-stricken. As they continued across the river in silence, Ieronim suddenly became animated, explaining that Nikolay's death was particularly hard to accept.
Ieronim described how Nikolay would come to the riverbank at night to call out to him so he wouldn't be afraid on the ferry. "He was a kind soul," Ieronim said emotionally. "Many a mother is not so good to her child as Nikolay was to me!" Now Ieronim felt like an orphan or widow without his friend.
"We were dear friends in a way. Where he went I would go. If I were not there he would miss me. And he cared more for me than for anyone, and all because I used to weep over his hymns."
Ieronim went on to explain that beyond his kindness and intelligence, Nikolay possessed an extraordinary gift that set him apart from the other monks. When the narrator asked what this gift was, Ieronim looked around cautiously before sharing the secret.
Nikolays gift for writing hymns of praise
With enthusiasm, Ieronim revealed that Nikolay had a remarkable talent for writing religious hymns. This ability was particularly impressive because Nikolay had no formal education, unlike the monastery's leaders who came from Moscow or studied at the Kazan academy.
"He had a gift for writing hymns of praise. It was a marvel, sir; you couldn't call it anything else! You would be amazed if I tell you about it... while Nikolay, a simple monk... wrote them!"
When the narrator asked if writing hymns was difficult, Ieronim explained the complex art in detail. He described how each hymn must follow certain conventions, beginning with references to angels, but what truly mattered was the beauty and sweetness of the language. The hymns needed to be harmonious, brief, and complete, with every line containing softness and tenderness.
"Everything must be harmonious, brief and complete. There must be in every line softness, graciousness and tenderness; not one word should be harsh or rough or unsuitable."
Ieronim recited examples of Nikolay's beautiful phrases, such as "light-radiating torch" and "flower of heavenly growth," marveling at his friend's ability to invent perfect expressions. Despite this talent, Nikolay's hymns went largely unappreciated in the monastery. Some monks even laughed at his writing or considered it sinful. Ieronim was the only one who read and valued Nikolay's work, visiting him secretly to hear the hymns read aloud.
The Easter service at the monastery
As they approached the bank, Ieronim lamented that Nikolay would miss the Easter hymn, which had been especially dear to him. The narrator asked if Ieronim would attend the service, but the monk explained he had to work the ferry until morning with no relief in sight.
After disembarking, the narrator made his way through the crowded monastery gates. The atmosphere was chaotic but festive, with people selling cakes and loading a small cannon. Inside the monastery walls, worshippers clutched Easter cakes and bundles, many appearing exhausted from traveling long distances.
In the church itself, the narrator observed constant movement as streams of people flowed in and out. The Easter service was characterized by joyful excitement rather than solemn prayer.
"There could be no thought of concentrated prayer. There were no prayers at all, but a sort of continuous, childishly irresponsible joy, seeking a pretext to break out and vent itself..."
The service itself reflected this restless energy. The altar gates stood open, incense filled the air, and candles gleamed everywhere. Instead of readings, there was continuous singing. Every ten minutes, the clergy changed vestments and came out to burn incense.
Morning reflections and return across the river
When the service ended, morning had begun. The stars had disappeared, and the sky was a morose grayish blue. Dew covered the iron slabs, tombstones, and tree buds. Outside the monastery, the previously animated scene had calmed, with horses and people appearing exhausted and drowsy.
The narrator returned to the ferry, where a chaise and about two dozen people were already waiting. Ieronim was still there, looking extraordinarily sad and exhausted. He explained that no one would relieve him until morning, as everyone was going to the Father Archimandrite's to break the fast.
As they crossed back over the river, disturbing the lazily rising mist, Ieronim worked mechanically. His gaze settled on the rosy face of a young merchant's wife standing nearby. The narrator observed that there was little masculinity in Ieronim's prolonged gaze; it seemed he was looking in the woman's face for the soft and tender features of his dead friend.
"He slowly passed his mild lustreless eyes over us... It seemed to me that Ieronim was looking in the woman's face for the soft and tender features of his dead friend."