The Petchenyeg (Chekhov)
Short summary
Russian countryside, late 19th century. Ivan Abramitch Zhmuhin, a retired Cossack officer, was returning to his farm after making his will in town. On the train, he met a lawyer traveling to Dyuevka and invited him to stay overnight at his farm.
Zhmuhin's farm was known as the Petchenyegs' farm, a nickname given by a land surveyor who had once called Zhmuhin a "Petchenyeg." At the farm, the lawyer met Zhmuhin's two unruly sons and his young, beautiful wife Lyubov Osipovna, who seemed unhappy and servant-like.
During dinner, the lawyer revealed he was a vegetarian, which prompted Zhmuhin to philosophize about killing animals. Throughout the evening, Zhmuhin talked incessantly, sharing stories about his past in the Caucasus and local cruelties. His wife secretly approached the lawyer, begging for advice about sending her sons to school. The night was stifling, and Zhmuhin continued his endless monologues until morning.
At dawn, the lawyer requested to leave immediately. As he departed, he could no longer contain his frustration.
"But in the gateway he suddenly could not restrain himself; he got up and shouted loudly and angrily: 'You have bored me to death.' And he disappeared through the gate."
As the lawyer left, Zhmuhin's sons were seen shooting a rooster for sport, embodying the cruel, primitive life that had so oppressed the visitor.
Detailed summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
Introduction to Ivan Abramitch Zhmuhin
Ivan Abramitch Zhmuhin was returning to his farm from town on a hot summer day. He was a retired Cossack officer who had once served in the Caucasus but was now old, dried up, and bent with shaggy eyebrows and a greenish-grey moustache. During his visit to town, he had confessed, received absolution, and made his will at the notary's office, having suffered a slight stroke a fortnight earlier. As he traveled in the railway carriage, he was preoccupied with melancholy thoughts about approaching death and the vanity of earthly existence.
Meeting the lawyer on the train
At the Provalye station on the Donetz line, a fair-haired, plump, middle-aged gentleman with a shabby portfolio boarded the train and sat opposite Zhmuhin. They began conversing, and Zhmuhin shared his views on marriage, claiming it was never too late to marry but perhaps better not to marry at all. He complained about his wife, stating that everyone grows tired of their spouse but few admit it. He also lamented his two sons, whom he called "rascals" and worried they might someday commit murder on the high road since he couldn't afford to send them to school in Novo Tcherkask.
"Everyone is soon tired of his wife, but not everyone tells the truth, because, you know, people are ashamed of an unhappy home life and conceal it. It's 'Manya this' and 'Manya that'... but if he had his way..."
The gentleman listened attentively and responded briefly in a low voice, revealing he was a lawyer traveling to the village of Dyuevka on business. Upon learning this, Zhmuhin exclaimed that Dyuevka was only six miles from his farm and, since no horses would be available at the station, invited the lawyer to stay at his home overnight and continue his journey the next morning using Zhmuhin's horses. After brief consideration, the lawyer accepted the invitation.
Arrival at the Petchenyegs farm
The journey from the station was silent as the jolting trap made conversation difficult. After traveling five or six miles, they approached a low-pitched house with a yard enclosed by dark, flat stones standing on end. The roof was green, the stucco was peeling, and the windows were narrow slits. The farm stood in full sunshine with no water or trees nearby. Among local landowners and peasants, it was known as the Petchenyegs' farm, a nickname that originated years ago when a land surveyor stayed there and, upon leaving, grimly called Zhmuhin a "Petchenyeg."
"From this came the nickname, the Petchenyegs' farm, which stuck to the place even more when Zhmuhin's boys grew up and began to make raids on the orchards and kitchen-gardens."
In the yard near a barn, Zhmuhin's sons were standing - one a young man of nineteen and the other a younger lad, both barefoot and bareheaded. As the trap drove into the yard, the younger son flung a hen high into the air, and the elder shot at it with a gun, causing the hen to fall dead to the ground. Zhmuhin explained to his guest that his boys were learning to shoot birds in flight.
In the entry, they were met by a little thin woman with a pale face, still young and beautiful, who from her dress might have been taken for a servant. Zhmuhin introduced her as the mother of his "young cubs" and instructed her to prepare supper for their guest.
"In the entry the travellers were met by a little thin woman with a pale face, still young and beautiful; from her dress she might have been taken for a servant. 'And this, allow me to introduce her,' said Zhmuhin, 'is the mother of my young cubs.'"
Dinner and conversations about vegetarianism
The house consisted of two parts: a parlor with Zhmuhin's bedroom, both stuffy with low ceilings and many flies and wasps, and a kitchen where cooking and washing were done, the laborers ate, and where Lyubov Osipovna and her sons slept. The parlor furniture was unpainted and roughly made, with old guns, game-bags, and whips hanging on the walls, all covered with years of dust. There were no pictures, only a dingy board that had once been an icon.
A young Little Russian woman laid the table and served ham and beetroot soup. The visitor declined vodka and ate only bread and cucumbers, explaining that he was a vegetarian and that killing animals was against his principles. Zhmuhin thoughtfully agreed that killing was sinful, mentioning how a wounded hare cries like a child. The lawyer affirmed that animals suffer just like humans.
Zhmuhin pondered what would happen if everyone stopped eating meat. The lawyer explained that domestic animals like fowls and geese would live freely like wild birds. Zhmuhin understood this concept but was particularly puzzled about pigs, wondering how they would manage without being controlled, since "a pig is a pig" and would ruin everything if left free.
After supper, Zhmuhin walked around the room talking at length. He longed for the spiritual calm and confidence that his guest possessed - a man who could satisfy his hunger on cucumbers and bread and appeared immovable like a large round stone. Zhmuhin felt that having something to hold onto in life was important.
Evening reflections and uncomfortable stories
As evening approached, Zhmuhin went through the entry to the porch, sighing and reflecting to himself. It grew dark with stars appearing in the sky, but no lights had been lit indoors. Someone entered the parlor silently and stood by the door - it was Lyubov Osipovna. She timidly asked the visitor, whom she presumed was educated, for advice about sending a petition regarding her sons' education. She worried they would have to serve in the army as common Cossacks if not properly educated, but she lacked the knowledge to arrange this and had no money for schooling.
"She prays every night, you know, and bows down to the ground, first that her children may be sent to school; she is afraid her boys will go into the army as simple Cossacks, and that they will be whacked across their backs with sabres."
Zhmuhin interrupted, telling her not to bother their guest with "wild talk" and ordering her away. A bed was made for the visitor on the parlor sofa, with the lamp lit before the icon. Zhmuhin retired to his room, where he continued philosophizing about his soul, age, and recent stroke. He considered abstaining from meat and superfluities, imagining a time when men would stop killing each other and animals, but his thoughts about pigs confused him again.
Unable to sleep, Zhmuhin appeared in the doorway wearing only his shirt and began telling stories from his military days in the Caucasus. He recounted how they once beat a princess who came nightly to mourn at her slain prince's grave because her wailing prevented them from sleeping. He also told of a local landowner who employed tramps without passports and had a foreman who would take beatings from the workers in exchange for ten roubles every Saturday.
The visitors hasty departure
The visitor turned to face the back of the sofa, but Zhmuhin continued with another story about the Siberian plague and how his sons had dug up his dead horse, which he had properly buried with lime, to sell the hide for three roubles. He concluded that people had not improved over time and that "however you feed a wolf he will always look towards the forest."
A thunderstorm approached, with lightning flashing through the window blinds. Zhmuhin got up to get water from the kitchen and continued philosophizing about stupidity being the worst thing in the world. He spoke disparagingly about his wife, explaining that she came from a poor priest's family and married him at seventeen mainly because they hadn't enough to eat. He claimed she had been crying for twenty years and declared that he didn't consider a woman a human being.
"And she's always sitting and thinking, and what do you suppose she is thinking about? What can a woman think about? Why, nothing. I must own I don't consider a woman a human being."
The visitor abruptly got up, feeling stifled, and asked to go outside. They went into the yard where the full moon illuminated the house and barn. In the distance, they could see the steppe and stars, while on the left, storm clouds were gathering. A night-owl screeched nearby. The visitor asked the time and remarked how long it was until dawn.
When they returned to the house, Zhmuhin mentioned a colonel in the Caucasus who was also a vegetarian. The rain began pattering on the roof as morning approached. The visitor, looking exhausted and vexed but too polite to express it, asked for his horse to be brought immediately despite Zhmuhin's suggestion to wait until the rain stopped.
As the visitor prepared to leave, Lyubov Osipovna looked at him intently with a dejected expression, clearly envying his freedom and wanting to ask about her children. She appeared not as a wife or head of household, but as a dependent or nonentity. Zhmuhin fussed about, seeing his visitor off, while she huddled against the wall waiting for a chance to speak.
"This was not a wife, not the head of a house, not even a servant, but more like a dependent, a poor relation not wanted by anyone, a nonentity... Her husband, fussing about, talking unceasingly... while she huddled up to the wall."
At the gate, the visitor suddenly could not restrain himself and shouted angrily, "You have bored me to death!" before disappearing. Near the barn, Zhmuhin's sons were standing - the elder with a gun, the younger holding a grey cockerel. The younger flung the bird upward, and the elder shot it down. Confused by the visitor's outburst, Zhmuhin returned to the house and spent a long while meditating on intellectual tendencies and universal immorality before having tea and lying down for a nap.
"The old man, overcome with confusion, not knowing how to explain the visitor's strange, unexpected shout, went slowly back into the house... and spent a long while meditating on the intellectual tendencies of the day, on the universal immorality."