Misery (Chekhov)
Short summary
St. Petersburg, late 19th century. On a snowy evening, an elderly sledge-driver named Iona Potapov sat on his box, covered in snow, waiting for fares.
His son had died the previous week, and Iona desperately needed to talk about his grief. When an officer hired his sledge, Iona attempted to share his sorrow, but the passenger showed no interest. Later, three young men hired him, and again Iona tried to mention his son's death, but they ignored him, focused only on their own conversation and hurrying him along.
After dropping off his fares, Iona looked desperately through the crowds for someone who might listen to him, but found no one. He returned to the yard where he lived and tried to talk to a young cabman, who fell asleep during his story. Unable to bear his unshared grief any longer, Iona went to the stables to check on his mare.
"That's how it is, old girl.... Kuzma Ionitch is gone.... He said goodbye to me.... He went and died for no reason.... Now, suppose you had a little colt, and you were own mother to that little colt.... And all at once that same little colt went and died....
Finding no human willing to listen, Iona finally poured out his grief to his horse, who listened attentively as he told the full story of his son's death.
Detailed summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
Ionas silent grief in the snowy street
On a snowy evening in St. Petersburg, Iona Potapov sat motionless on his sledge, covered in snow. He was bent over, appearing almost lifeless as snowflakes gathered on his back. His little white mare stood equally still beside him, resembling a gingerbread horse with her angular lines and stick-like legs. Both seemed lost in thought amid the bustling city streets.
Iona and his horse had been waiting since before noon without a single fare. As evening fell, the street lamps glowed more vividly and the city noise grew louder. Despite the increasing activity around him, Iona remained motionless, weighed down by his silent grief.
Finally, Iona heard someone call for a sledge to Vyborgskaya. Through his snow-crusted eyelashes, he saw an officer in a military overcoat. After the officer repeated his destination, Iona roused himself and his horse, and they began their journey. As they moved through the crowded streets, Iona was repeatedly scolded by pedestrians and other drivers for his clumsy navigation.
The officer joked about the reckless pedestrians, and Iona tried to respond. He turned to his passenger, his lips moving, but initially produced only a sniff. When the officer asked what he was trying to say, Iona finally managed to speak.
Iona looks as his fare and moves his lips.... Apparently he means to say something, but nothing comes but a sniff... "My son... er... my son died this week, sir." "H'm! What did he die of?"
Iona explained that his son had died of fever after three days in the hospital. Before he could share more about his loss, another driver shouted at him to pay attention to the road. The officer urged him to drive faster, and Iona, after several glances at his passenger, saw that the officer had closed his eyes, uninterested in his story. After dropping the officer at Vyborgskaya, Iona stopped by a restaurant and resumed his wait for passengers, still burdened by his unshared grief.
Three young men and their indifference to Ionas tragedy
After waiting longer, Iona picked up three young men - two tall ones and a hunchback. They argued about who would sit and who would stand, eventually deciding that the hunchback, being the shortest, should stand. The hunchback immediately began mocking Iona's cap and urging him to drive faster.
One of the tall young men complained of a headache from drinking the previous day, while his companion accused him of lying. Iona tried to join their conversation, smiling and calling them "merry gentlemen." Finding a brief pause in their chatter, he attempted once more to share his burden.
"This week... my son died!" Iona told them. The hunchback merely sighed and remarked that everyone dies, then demanded that Iona drive faster. The young men continued to harass him, threatening to hit him if he didn't speed up.
When one of the tall young men asked if Iona was married, he responded with a bitter laugh. He told them that his only wife now was the grave, and tried again to speak about his son's death, saying it was strange that death had come for his son instead of him. But before he could elaborate, the hunchback announced their arrival at their destination. After paying Iona, the three young men disappeared into a dark entryway, leaving him alone with his grief once more.
“I? He he! Me-er-ry gentlemen. The only wife for me now is the damp earth... The grave that is!... Here my son’s dead and I am alive... It’s a strange thing, death has come in at the wrong door... Instead of coming for me it went for my son...”
Searching for a sympathetic ear in the crowded city
Alone again, Iona felt his grief return with renewed force. His eyes anxiously scanned the crowds moving along the street, desperately seeking someone who might listen to his story. His misery was overwhelming, yet invisible to those around him.
His misery is immense, beyond all bounds. If Iona’s heart were to burst and his misery to flow out, it would flood the whole world, it seems, but yet it is not seen. It has found a hiding-place in such an insignificant shell...
In desperation, Iona approached a house-porter with a parcel and asked him the time. When told it was nearly ten, the porter simply ordered him to move along. Iona drove a short distance away, then decided he could bear his solitude no longer. He resolved to return to the yard where he lived.
Finding solace in conversation with his horse
An hour and a half later, Iona sat by a large dirty stove in the yard, surrounded by sleeping figures. He regretted returning early, as he hadn't earned enough to pay for his horse's oats. When a young cabman rose to get a drink of water, Iona attempted once more to share his story.
"My son is dead," he told the young man. "This week in the hospital." But the cabman had already covered his head and fallen asleep. Iona desperately needed to talk about his son's illness, his suffering, his last words, and the funeral. He even wanted to mention his daughter Anisya, who still lived in the country.
Just as the young man had been thirsty for water, he thirsts for speech. His son will soon have been dead a week, and he has not really talked to anybody yet.... He wants to talk of it properly, with deliberation....
Unable to find a human listener, Iona decided to check on his mare. He went to the stables, thinking about oats, hay, and the weather - anything but his son, as thinking of him alone was unbearable. Finding his horse awake, he began speaking to her, telling her everything about his son's death. He explained how Kuzma Ionitch had said goodbye and died for no reason. He asked the mare how she would feel if she lost her own little colt. As Iona poured out his heart, the little mare listened attentively, breathing on her master's hands while he found, at last, a sympathetic ear for his grief.