Frost (Chekhov)
Short summary
Provincial town of N——, Feast of Epiphany, winter. A charity skating event was organized despite twenty-eight degrees of frost. In the afternoon, the town's elite gathered in the governor's pavilion by the river to warm themselves while watching skaters.
The mayor approached the pavilion, skipping along and joking with people despite the cold. Upon entering, he immediately complained about the frost and ordered mulled wine for everyone.
While the governor defended the Russian frost as character-building, Yegor Ivanitch passionately described his suffering in the cold as a homeless orphan, a shopboy, and a fish merchant. The governor and bishop shared their own frost experiences. The old men fell silent, contemplating human suffering and patience.
When the mulled wine arrived, a young policeman entered to inform the governor his wife had gone home. Seeing the frozen officer, the governor offered him a drink.
He drank and was overwhelmed with embarrassment while the old men looked at him in silence, and they all fancied that the pain was leaving the young policeman's heart, and that his soul was thawing.
The governor and bishop departed, asking the policeman to tell the musicians to stop playing and to give them drinks. Yegor Ivanitch remained, continuing to drink and tell stories.
Detailed summary
Division into sections is editorial.
A winter charity event threatened by severe frost
A philanthropic skating event was organized on the Feast of Epiphany in the provincial town of N——. The organizers had fenced off a section of the river between the market and the bishop's palace, decorating it with fir trees and flags. The festivities promised numerous attractions including skating, a military band, and a lottery. However, the event nearly failed due to the extreme cold, with temperatures dropping to twenty-eight degrees below freezing accompanied by strong winds.
Despite suggestions to postpone the event, the public, who had been eagerly anticipating it, insisted on proceeding as planned. The ladies persuaded the governor that cold weather was to be expected in winter, and anyone feeling chilled could simply warm themselves. Despite the frost that whitened trees, horses, and men's beards, the determined townspeople gathered for skating. Following the blessing of the waters at precisely one o'clock, the military band began to play.
The social elite take shelter in the governors pavilion
Between three and four in the afternoon, when the festivities were at their peak, the town's elite gathered in the governor's pavilion on the riverbank to warm themselves. The governor and his wife, the bishop, the president of the local court, and the head master of the high school were among those present. The ladies sat in armchairs while the men crowded around the glass door, watching the skaters.
The bishop expressed amazement at the skaters' agility, while the head master identified the schoolboys Smirnov and Gruzdev as they glided past. The governor noticed the town's mayor approaching and remarked that he would likely talk their heads off.
The mayor, a thin old man wearing a large cap and open fur coat, made his way toward the pavilion. He skipped along, shivering from the cold and knocking his goloshes together. Halfway there, he mischievously frightened a lady by plucking at her sleeve from behind, then laughed heartily at her reaction. As he approached the pavilion, he broke into a trot and slid across the ice to the door.
The mayors stories of childhood suffering in the cold
Upon entering the pavilion, Yegor Ivanitch complained bitterly about the frost, stamping his feet and swinging his arms to warm himself. When the governor remarked that frost was healthy and made men vigorous, the mayor disagreed, suggesting that the Lord sent frost as punishment for summer sins. Looking around anxiously, he asked about refreshments to warm them up and immediately ordered a workman to fetch mulled wine, punch, and sweets from Savatin.
The governor defended the Russian frost, citing its role in shaping the good qualities of the Russian people through the cruel struggle for existence. The mayor, however, maintained his position and began sharing his personal experiences with the cold.
For the man who is well fed and well clothed the frost is only a pleasure, but for the working man, the beggar, the pilgrim, the crazy wanderer, it's the greatest evil and misfortune. It's misery, your Holiness!
Yegor Ivanitch recounted his childhood as a homeless orphan who led a blind woman around town for five kopecks a day. He described the physical pain of freezing—the aching ears, fingers, and feet—but emphasized that the worst part was the chilling of one's entire body and soul. The heart would ache beyond endurance, and a person would feel completely numb, moving like a statue rather than a living being.
Your heart aches beyond all endurance, and there is a wretchedness all over your body as though you were leading Death by the hand instead of an old woman. You are numb all over, turned to stone like a statue.
The governor's wife, growing bored with the conversation, suggested walking around the skating ground. Most of the company followed her, leaving only the governor, the bishop, and the mayor in the pavilion. Yegor Ivanitch continued his stories, describing his suffering as a shopboy in a fish shop and later as a shop owner.
The frost makes one spiteful and drives one to drink... And when we were taking fish to Moscow in the winter, Holy Mother! And spluttering as he talked, he began describing the horrors he endured with his shopmen.
The mayor's stories prompted the governor to share his own experience during the Russo-Turkish War, when his division had stood motionless in the snow for thirteen hours in piercing wind, forbidden to light fires, make sounds, or even smoke for fear of being detected by the enemy. The bishop also contributed, recalling how he had nearly frozen to death after falling from a dog-drawn sledge while serving in Siberia, saved only by the Tunguses who found him barely alive.
After sharing their stories, the old men fell silent and sat side by side in contemplation. The mayor whispered that looking at the water-carriers, schoolboys, and convicts in their thin garments brought back memories of suffering. He noted that even the musicians playing at that moment must be feeling the cold—pain in their hearts, pinched stomachs, and trumpets freezing to their lips. The three elderly men reflected on human helplessness, suffering, and patience—qualities that elevated even the lowest beggar closer to God.
The old men thought of that in man which is higher than good birth, higher than rank and wealth and learning, of that which brings the lowest beggar near to God: of the helplessness of man, of his sufferings and his patience.
A small moment of compassion for the freezing policeman
As the air turned blue with evening, waiters from Savatin's arrived with trays and a large teapot, filling the pavilion with the aroma of cinnamon and clove. Shortly after, a young policeman entered, his nose crimson and his entire body covered with frost. He informed the governor that his wife had gone home.
Observing the policeman's stiff, frozen fingers and frost-covered hood, the old men sensed his suffering—his aching heart, pinched stomach, and numbed soul. The governor hesitantly offered him some mulled wine, which the mayor enthusiastically encouraged him to accept. The policeman took the glass in both hands and began sipping discreetly, visibly embarrassed. As he drank, the old men watched in silence, imagining the pain leaving his heart and his soul thawing.
The governor and bishop soon took their leave, instructing the policeman to tell the musicians to stop playing and ensure they received beer or vodka. Left alone in the pavilion, Yegor Ivanitch attacked the mulled wine and continued sharing stories with the policeman, unable to remain silent.