Chekhov's 1894 work Rothschild's Violin The town is so small that it is not as good as a country.Almost only old men live in this small town, and it is annoying that these old men rarely die.Coffins are also rarely needed in hospitals and prisons.In a word, business is bad.If Yakov Ivanov had been the coffinmaker in the provincial town, he would have owned his own house, and everyone would call him Yakov Matveitch, but in this small town, everyone But they simply called him Yakov, and for some reason gave him the nickname "Bronze".He lived in poverty, living in a small old wooden house like ordinary peasants.The small wooden house has only one room in total, and he, Marfa, a stove, a double bed, several coffins, a workbench, and all daily necessities are all squeezed into this room.

The coffin Yakov made was nice and strong.He made coffins for peasants and philistines, always according to his own size, and never made a mistake, because there was no one taller or stronger than him even in prison, although he was seventy years old.When he made coffins for nobles and women, he always measured the size first, and used an iron ruler when measuring. When someone came to order a coffin for a child, he was always very reluctant to accept it. He did not measure the size when making it, and he did it directly, with a contemptuous attitude. When he was paid, he would always say: "To be honest, I don't like to do this kind of piecemeal work."

In addition to this craft, playing the violin also brought him a small income. People in this small town hold weddings, usually with a Jewish band playing.The band was run by tinsmith Moise Ilyich Shahkes, who took more than half of the income.Yakov played the violin very well, especially Russian pieces, and Shakhkes sometimes asked him to join the orchestra for fifty kopecks a day, in addition to any gratuities from guests.Whenever "Bronze" sat down in the band, he was always the first to sweat and flush.It was hot in such a place, and the smell of garlic was overwhelming.The violin shrieked, the double bass crackled next to the right ear, and the flute wailed next to the left.The flute player was a thin, reddish-haired Jew, whose face was covered with veins and veins like a network, and he had the same surname as the famous rich man②: Rothschild.The damned Jew can play even the happiest tunes to mourn.For no apparent reason Yakov developed a hatred and contempt for the Jews, and Rothschild in particular.He began to find fault with him, cursed him with vicious words, and once even tried to beat him. Rothschild became angry, looked at him fiercely, and said: "If I didn't respect your talents, I would have thrown you away. went out the window."

Then he started crying.So the band doesn't often invite "bronze" to join, except when it is very necessary, such as the lack of one of the Jews. Yakov was never in a good mood, for he often suffered terrible losses.For example, it is sinful to work on Sundays and holidays, and Monday is an unlucky day, so that there are always two hundred days in the year when one has to sit around doing nothing.This loss is not small!If there is a wedding in this little town without music, or if Shahkes doesn't invite him, that's a loss too.The inspector was ill with consumption for two years, and Yakov anxiously expected his death, but the inspector left for the provincial capital to seek medical attention, and died there.This was another loss, at least ten rubles, for the coffin must have been expensive and covered with brocade.The thought of losses made Yakov restless, especially at night.He always put his violin beside him on the bed, and when any messy thoughts entered his mind, he would touch the strings, and the violin would make a sound in the dark, and he felt a little relieved.

Marfa fell ill suddenly on May 6 last year.The old woman was panting, drank a lot of water, and walked staggeringly.But that morning she still lit the stove herself, and even fetched water.By evening, though, she was lying down.Yakov played the violin all day, and when it was dark, he took out the notebook he used to record losses every day. Anyway, he was bored with idleness, and started to settle the losses for the past year.In the end, the total was over a thousand rubles.This shocked him greatly. He threw the abacus on the ground and stomped on it with his feet.Then he picked up the abacus and struck it for a long time, while sighing nervously and deeply.His face was flushed and dripping with sweat.He thought to himself that if he deposited the lost thousand rubles in the bank, the annual interest would be at least forty rubles.So the forty rubles was also a loss.In a word, no matter where you turn, there is nothing but loss everywhere.

"Yakov!" Marfa called out unexpectedly. "I'm dying!" He turned to look at his wife.Her face was flushed with heat, and her expression was unusually cheerful and joyful. "Bronze" was used to seeing her pale, timid, and sad face, so he panicked at this moment.She looked as if she were really going to die, and seemed to be secretly glad that she was finally leaving this cabin, these coffins, and Yakov forever. ... She looked at the ceiling, moved her lips, and the expression on her face was happiness, as if she had seen death, her savior, and was whispering to it.

It's already dawn, and looking out the window, you can see the morning glow is as red as fire.Yakov looked at the old woman, and for some reason remembered that he never seemed to have made love to her once in his life, never loved her, and never once thought of buying her a kerchief, or bringing her back from a wedding. A little bit of sweets, but he just yelled at her, scolded her for the loss, and rushed towards her with his fists clenched; of course, he never really hit her, but after all he had frightened her, and every time she was frightened, she would be dazed.Yes, he didn't allow her to drink tea, because even if she didn't buy tea, the expenses would be high enough; she had to drink plain water.He understood why her face was so weird now, happy, and he was scared in his heart.

In the morning, he borrowed a horse from a neighbor and took Marfa to the hospital.There were not many patients there, so he didn't wait long, about three hours. To his great satisfaction, this time it was not the doctor who saw the doctor, who himself was sick, but an old man, the doctor Maxine Nikolaitch.People in the city said that although the old man liked to drink and swear, he was better at medicine than doctors. "Hello, old man!" Yakov said, leading the old lady into the consulting room. "I'm sorry, Maxine Nikolaitch, but we are always bothering you with little problems.

Here, you see, my mouth is sick.That is, as everyone says, life partner, please forgive me for saying this. ..." The doctor twisted his white eyebrows, stroked his beard, and began to look at the old woman. She was sitting on a stool with a hunchback, a thin, pointed nose, and an open mouth. From the side, it looked like a mouth. thirsty bird. "Well,... yes,..." the doctor said slowly and sighed. "It's the flu, but it could be a fever. There's typhoid going on in town now. Well, the old woman has lived a long time, thank God. . . . How old is she?" "One year to seventy, Maxine Nikolaitch."

"Oh, the old woman has finally lived such a long time. She should be content." "Of course, your words are very wise, Maxine Nikolaitch," said Yakov, smiling politely, "we are grateful for your kind words, but please allow me to say, All bugs want to live." "That goes without saying!" said the doctor, as if the old woman's life and death were in his hands. "Well, here we go, friend, put a cloth soaked in cold water on her head, and give her this powder twice a day. Well, good-bye, Bon jour." Yakov saw from the expression on his face that something was wrong and that no powder would help.Only then did he understand: Marfa would die soon, either today or tomorrow.He lightly touched the doctor's elbow, squeezed his eyes, and said in a low voice: "Maksim Nikolaitch, she must be bled."

"No time, no time, my friend. Take your old woman and go, God bless. Good-bye." "Please be merciful," Yakov begged. "You know for yourself that if she had, say, a stomach ache, or something wrong with her internal organs, she would take powders and drink potions, but now she has a cold! When she catches a cold, the first thing she does is bloodletting, Mark. Sin Nikolaitch." But the doctor had already called the next patient, and a village woman came into the consulting room with a child. "Come on, let's go..." he said to Yakov, frowning. "Don't mess around." "If that's the case, at least put leeches on her! For God's sake, please!" The doctor got angry and shouted: "Still talking to me! You idiot..." Yakov also got angry, his face was flushed, but without saying a word, he helped Marfa and led her out of the consulting room.It wasn't until they got into the cart that he took a stern and ironic look at the hospital and said, "The people who are placed here are all good men like you! If you see a rich man, you will be willing to bleed with a suction cup; I can't bear to use them. These Herods!" When they got home, Marfa walked into the house, holding the stove, and stood there for ten minutes.She felt that if she lay down, Yakov would tell of all the losses and scold her for always lying down and not wanting to work.But Yakov looked at her sadly, and remembered that tomorrow was St. John's Day, and the day after that was St. Nicholas the Miracle Worker, and after that came Sunday, and then Monday, the unlucky days.There is no work for these four days, but Marfa will definitely die in these few days, so it can be seen that today he has to make a coffin.He took his iron ruler, went up to the old woman, and took her measurements.Then she lay down.He drew the cross on his chest and started to make a coffin. When the work was over, "Bronze" put on his spectacles and made a note in his book: "Forty kopecks for two rubles for a coffin for Marfa Ivanovna." He sighed.The old woman lay there silent all the time, with her eyes closed.But in the evening, when it was getting dark, she suddenly called out to the old man. "Do you remember, Yakov?" she asked, looking at him cheerfully. "Do you remember that God gave us a little golden-haired doll fifty years ago? At that time, you and I were always sitting by the river...under the willow tree...singing songs." After she finished speaking, she smiled wryly and added: " The little girl is dead." Yakov tried to recall, but he could not recall the baby, the willow tree. "It's your wild imagination," he said. The priest came, gave Marfa the communion, and performed the unction.Then she began to mumble and slur her words, and towards morning she died. The old woman next door scrubbed her, dressed her, and put her in the coffin.To save money for the chapel chant, Yakov sang the hymns himself.As for the grave, he did not pay for it either, since the cemetery keeper was his god-in-law.Four peasants carried the coffin to the cemetery, not for money but out of respect.Behind the coffin were several old women, beggars, and two crazy monks. Everyone they met on the road made the sign of the sign of the cross devoutly. ... Yakov was very satisfied, because the business had been done in a proper, respectable, cheap way, and did not offend anyone. As he said good-bye to Marfa for the last time, he touched the coffin with his hand and thought: "Good job!" But when he walked back from the cemetery, he felt very uncomfortable.He was a little uncomfortable: his breath was hot and short, his legs were weak, and he always wanted to drink water. Besides, all kinds of thoughts came into his head.He thought again that he had never been intimate with Marfa or loved him once in his life.They lived together in the small wooden house for fifty-two years, and these fifty-two years were very long, but somehow things came to this: during this time, he never thought of her once, He cared about her as if she were a cat or a dog; but she lit the stove, cooked vegetables, baked bread, went out to fetch water, chopped wood, and slept in the same bed with him every day. Whenever he came back drunk from the wedding banquet, she would respectfully hang his violin on the wall and help him to bed and sleep. She always did these things in silence, with timidity and worry on her face. look. Rothsir came up to Yakov, smiled and nodded to him. "I'm looking for you, uncle!" he said. "Moisey Ilyitch sends his greetings and asks you to go to him right away." Yakov was not in the mood for these things.He wanted to cry. "Get out of the way!" he said, walking forward. "How can this work?" Rothschild said anxiously, and ran to the front. "Moisey Ilyitch will be angry! He told you to go at once!" Yakov could not help feeling disgusted at the sight of the Jew panting, blinking, and having so many red-brown spots on his face.His green blouse with black patches and his thin and thin body are also inconspicuous. "Why do you hang on to me, garlic?" cried Yakov. "Don't be so shameless!" The Jew got angry and cried out too: "But please keep your voice down, or I'll throw you over the fence!" "Get away from me!" Yakov yelled, throwing himself at him with fists clenched. "These mangy dogs make people's lives difficult!" Terrified, Rothschild crouched down, dangling his hands above his head, as if to block his fists and protect himself.Then he jumped up and ran away with all his might.He jumped up and down as he ran, and clapped his hands lightly, and anyone could see that his long, thin back was trembling.The boys cheered up at this sight, and ran after him, shouting, "Jew! Jew!" and the dogs ran after him, barking.Someone laughed and whistled, and the dogs barked louder and more merrily. ... Then a dog probably bit Rothschild, because there was a terrible howl in the distance. Yakov strolled on the pasture for a while, and then wandered about the outskirts of the city.The boys shouted, "Here comes the bronze! Here comes the bronze!" and he went to the river.Sandpipers flew to and fro, chirping, and ducks quacking.The sun was so hot that the surface of the water was so golden that it hurt the eyes to look at the water.Yakov was walking along a path by the river, and seeing a plump, flushed lady coming out of the bathing shed, he thought to himself: "Hey, what an otter!" Not far from the bathing shed, some boys were using meat Catching shrimp as bait, as soon as he saw him, he shouted maliciously: "Bronze! bronze! "There was an old willow tree with a broad top, a huge hole in the trunk, and a crow's nest in the top. . . That willow tree that Alpha spoke of. Yes, that's the willow tree, green, quiet, melancholy. . . . It's much older, poor tree! He sat down under this willow tree and began to think.The opposite bank, now a flooded meadow, was then a forest of large birches, and the barren hill rising on the horizon in the distance had once grown a very old blue pine forest.Back then sailing boats sailed on the river.Now everything is smooth and smooth, except for a young and tall birch tree growing on the opposite bank, like a young lady.There are only ducks and geese on the river, unlike the sailboats that used to sail in the past.There also seemed to be fewer geese than there used to be.Yakov closed his eyes, and in his mind a flock of white geese swam swiftly one against the other. He did not understand how things had come to this: in his life, for the last forty or fifty years, he had not once been to this river, or, if he had, he had not noticed it.You know, this is a fairly large river, not an insignificant one, on which fish could be caught and sold to merchants, civil servants, station snack bar owners, and deposited in the bank; You can also drive a small boat from one manor to another, play the violin, and people of all social status will give him money; you can also try the business of transporting goods by ship, which is much better than making coffins; Raising geese, slaughtering the geese in winter, and transporting them to Moscow may earn ten rubles a year for the goose feathers alone.But he missed the opportunity in vain and did nothing, what a loss!Oh, what a loss!If all these things were combined, fishing, fiddle playing, shipping, and geese killing, what a fortune would be made!But such a thing had never even been dreamed of, and life went by in vain, without any benefit, without any joy, and utterly lost.There was nothing ahead to look forward to, and looking back, there was nothing but losses, and losses so dreadful that it gave the chills a chill.Why can't people live well and avoid these losses?Excuse me, why do people cut down birch and pine forests?Why is the pasture barren? Why do people keep doing things they really shouldn't be doing?Why had Yakov been swearing all his life, losing his temper, clenching his fists to beat people, and bullying his wife? Excuse me, what is the need to frighten the Jew and insult him just now?Why do people always get in the way of each other's lives?You know, what a loss this caused!What a terrible loss!If there were no hatred and malice, men would be much better for each other. In the evening and in the night, he had been dreaming of baby babies, willow trees, fish, slaughtered geese, Marfa who looked like a thirsty bird from the side, Rothschild's pale, pitiful face.Many faces approached from all directions, counting the loss in whispers.He tossed and turned, and four or five times he got out of bed to play the violin. In the morning he barely got up and went to the hospital.It was still Maxine Nikolaitch who saw the doctor, and he told Yakov to put a cloth soaked in cold water on his head, and gave him some powder.Yakov saw from his face and tone that something was wrong, and that no amount of powder could help.Later, on the way home, he thought to himself: It would be better to die, because you don’t have to eat, drink, pay taxes, and offend others; Years, then, if you do a careful calculation, the benefits will be great.What people get from life is loss, but what people get from death is benefit.This idea is certainly correct, but it is annoying and painful: why is there such a strange structure in the world that people can only live one life, and this life passes without bringing any good? There is nothing to regret about dying, but when he came home, when he saw the violin, his heart tightened, and he couldn't bear to die.This violin cannot be taken to his grave by him, and henceforth it will be alone, and will suffer the same fate as that birch forest and that pine forest.In this world, everything was wasted in vain in the past, and will still be wasted in vain in the future!Yakov came out of the cabin, sat down outside the door, and held the violin in his arms.As he thought about his wasted and lost life, he played the violin, not knowing what he was playing, but the tone was sad and moving, and tears streamed down his cheeks.The deeper he thought, the sadder the violin's tone became. The latch clicked once or twice, and Rothschild appeared at the door.He ventured across half the yard, but when he saw Yakov he stopped suddenly and shrank his neck, probably frightened.He began to make gestures with his hands, as if he wanted his inner fingers to tell what time it was. "Come here, it's all right," Yakov said affectionately, beckoning him to come. "come on!" Rothschild looked at him suspiciously and fearfully, walked towards him, and stopped a few feet away from him. "Please have mercy and don't hit me!" he said, crouching down. "Moisey Ilyich has sent me again. He said: Don't be afraid, go to Yakov's again and say you can do without him. There is a wedding on Wednesday. . . . Yes! Master Shapovalov is marrying his daughter, and the uncle is a very nice man. The wedding is very rich, hey!" said the Jew again, narrowing one eye. "I can't go . . . " said Yakov, panting. "I'm sick, brother." He played the violin again, and tears burst from his eyes and dripped on the violin.Rothschild listened attentively, leaning toward him, arms folded over his chest.The expression of horror and confusion on his face gradually turned into a look of sorrow and pain.He rolled his eyes, as if feeling an unbearable ecstasy in his heart, and said, "Ahhh! ..." Tears trickled down his cheeks and dripped onto his green blouse. Afterwards Yakov lay all day, depressed.In the evening the priest came to hear his confession, and asked him if he could remember any particular crime.He tried his best to use his poor memory, and recalled Marfa's unhappy face and the scream of the Jew after being bitten by a dog, so he said weakly: "Please give Rothschild the violin." "Very well," answered the priest. People in town now ask: Where did Rothschild get such a fine violin?Had he bought it, or had it been stolen, or had it been pledged to him?He has long since given up the flute, and now he plays the violin exclusively.His bow, like his former flute, made a mournful note, but whenever he tried to imitate the tune Yakov sat at the door, he played a very sad note, which made the audience flock. Weeping, at last he rolled his eyes himself and cried out "AhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhEveryone in the city liked this new tune, and merchants and civil servants rushed to invite him to their homes, asking him to repeat this tune ten times each time. "Notes" ①Consecutively referring to people by their real name and father's name contains a sense of respect. ② Refers to Rothschild, a German Jewish rich man. ③ French: Goodbye. ④ This kind of animal sucks human and animal blood, which was used in ancient medicine to suck pus and blood.