Stories · 1883

A Grateful German

Признательный немец

Headnote

1 A Grateful German (“Priznatel’nyi nemets” in the original) appeared in 1883, one of the brisk single-page sketches Chekhov was turning out by the dozen in these years for the Moscow and Petersburg comic weeklies under the pseudonym “Antosha Chekhonte.” It belongs to a small subgenre of these early pieces built on a single repeated joke told in triplicate – three chance meetings, each escalating the same absurd premise until the punchline lands on the third.

2 The premise: a German drifter, met in three different guises and three different places – a Frankfurt street performer with a dancing monkey, a sausage-seller in another Frankfurt, and finally a jack-of-all-trades tutor angling for a post as a railway director in Russia itself – who each time recognizes the narrator and thanks him extravagantly, “to the grave,” for a single thaler given once, long ago, almost in passing. The joke sharpens with each repetition: the debt of gratitude grows more solemn and more rehearsed even as its object grows more absurd (a dead monkey duly mourned; a straight-faced “all Russians are bad people, but you are the exception”). Chekhov gives the German fragments of his own language, dropped in mid-sentence and glossed in the text – the provincial cosmopolitanism-by-phrasebook that recurs as a stock joke throughout these earliest sketches.

3 It is a slight piece, and knows it – eight brief sections, no plot beyond the repetition, the whole thing over almost before it starts. But the comic engine is already precise: the deadpan narrator who never comments, the punchline placed exactly at the close of each encounter, and a final line – “We never met again” – that closes the joke with the same flat understatement Chekhov would later turn to far darker ends.

I once knew a grateful German.
Я знал одного признательного немца.
I first met him in Frankfurt am Main. He was walking along the Dummstrasse Stupid Street (German)., leading a little monkey. His face had hunger written on it, and love of the fatherland, and submission to fate. He sang plaintively, and the monkey danced. I took pity on them and gave them a thaler.
Впервые встретил я его во Франкфурте-на-Майне. Он ходил по Dummstrasse Глупой улице (нем.). и водил обезьянку. На лице его были написаны голод, любовь к отечеству и покорность судьбе. Он жалобно пел, а обезьянка плясала. Я сжалился над ними и дал им талер.
"Oh, I thank you!" said the German to me, pressing the thaler to his chest. "I thank you! To my grave I shall not forget your charity!"
– О, благодарю вас! – сказал мне немец, прижимая к груди талер. – Благодарю! До могилы я не забуду вашего подаяния!
The second time I met this German was in Frankfurt an der Oder. He was walking along the Eselstrasse Donkey Street (German)., selling fried sausages. Catching sight of me, he burst into tears, raised his eyes to heaven, and said:
Во второй раз встретил я этого немца во Франкфурте-на-Одере. Он ходил по Eselstrasse Ослиной улице (нем.). и продавал жареные сосиски. Завидев меня, он прослезился, поднял глаза к небу и сказал:
"Oh, I thank you, mein Herr! I shall never forget that thaler with which you saved from hunger me and my late monkey! Your thaler gave us comfort then!"
– О, благодарю вас, мейн герр! Я никогда не забуду того талера, которым вы спасли от голода меня и мою покойную обезьяну! Ваш талер тогда дал нам комфорт!
The third time I met him was in Russia (in diesem Russland). Here he was teaching Russian children ancient languages, trigonometry, and the theory of music. In his free time between lessons he was looking for himself a post as director of a railway.
В третий раз встретил я его в России (in diesem Russland). Здесь он преподавал русским детям древние языки, тригонометрию и теорию музыки. В свободное от уроков время он искал себе место директора железной дороги.
"Oh, I remember you!" he said to me, shaking my hand. "All Russians are bad people, but you are the exception. I do not love Russians, but you and your thaler I shall remember to my grave!"
– О, я помню вас! – сказал он мне, пожимая мою руку. – Все русские люди нехорошие люди, но вы исключение. Я не люблю русских, но о вас и вашем талере буду помнить до могилы!
We never met again.
Больше мы с ним не встречались.

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A Grateful German

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