THE ORATOR
Because Grigory Petrovitch Zapoikin “possesses a rare talent for impromptu
speechifying “, he is called upon to give a speech at funeral. Chekhov sets the comic
tone for the story when he mentions that the deceased “had died of the two afflictions
so widely spread in our country, a bad wife and alcoholism.” The piece starts out as
if it is written by a gossip columnist for a city paper. (“as many of my readers are
aware “) The speech itself is funny with Zapoikin extolling on the saintly virtues of
a civil servant who was “impervious to bribes”, gave alms to the poor, and “gave up
the joys of this life and even renounced the happiness of domestic existence.” He
ends the speech with the ultimate backhanded compliment: “…your face was plain,
even hideous, you were morose and austere, but we all know that under that outer
husk there beat an honest, friendly heart.” The real comic moment happens when we
find that Zapoikin has confused the wrong secretary as Prokofy Osipitch, the man
he was lamenting, is alive and well, standing at a tombstone. For most writers that
would have been enough — punchline duly delivered, the end — but Chekhov adds
a poignant scene with Osipitch confronting Zapoikin. “Your speech may be all right
for a dead man, but in reference to a living one it is nothing but sarcasm!” That line
made me think of the praise that is given to people when they are dead is often so
much different than what people say when people are alive. (If any praise is ever
given all.) Of course, there are lifetime achievements awards and other accolades
where people are unabashedly praised, but that is rare and it could very easily turn
into sarcasm with too much effusive acclaim.