Another day, another farce.
Dr. Koshelkov (which has a farcical sound to it, and I imagine is a signal to the Russian reader that this is a comedy), having saved a young man’s life, is given an antique candelabra as a token of the patient’s gratitude. It’s one of a pair, the patient tells the doctor, and no one knows where the other one is, but even by itself, it’s an extremely valuable antique.
The problem is, the candelabra is a bit risque, featuring “two female figures in the costume of Eve–” that is, naked. The women look, the narrator concludes, like they might skip off the candelabra and indulge in an orgy, if not for the necessity of supporting the candlestick.
Prudish but polite, the doctor finds a way to discreetly get rid of the candelabra, but the next owner is similarly embarrassed by it, and the next, and so we follow the candelabra from owner to owner until the story is stitched up with a decent farcical twist.
The joke of the unwanted (tasteless) gift is an old standby, and presumably was a stock story even in Chekhov’s time, although I can’t recall a specific classic play or story, pre-Chekhov, that featured this trope. Who knows, maybe he invented it or at least perfected it, and now every sitcom recycles the plot device at some point during its run.
READ THIS? READ THAT!
The comedy of this story is gentle, by Chekhov’s sometimes cruel standards. Dr. Koshelkov seems like a polite fellow, as does the patient who gives him the candelabra. It’s all very sweet and, well, sitcom-y. Another relatively sweet little tale is “Who Was to Blame,” where the villain is a mouse.
A Chekhov Circus 