The question of happiness in gooseberries Those who seek their own happiness through life will not be able to do much good for others. The worry of achieving this “ideal” state of happiness will certainly lead to a reckless view of the world. Anton Chekhov's story Gooseberries portrays a man who came to this realization. He has seen the consequences of pure, unadulterated happiness and describes his subsequent emotions as "melancholy". Why would an educated man, a veterinarian at that, have such problems with human happiness? This article seeks to understand the issue and connect it to the motivations of the author, Anton Chekhov. It is important, first of all, to ascertain the meaning of the word happiness in the context in which it is used in the story. This would be a good time to give the Webster's Dictionary definition of the word happiness. But is it really necessary? Who is Webster to try to define a human emotion anyway!? However, it would be a more accurate definition if you simply thought about your happiness. What makes you happy? What do you do to achieve happiness? Only after answering these questions will you be able to understand the word the way Chekhov intended it. Wouldn't it be difficult to suppress happiness? If you don't think so, ask Bertha about Bliss. In the first paragraph of Gooseberries, the last line reads: "On this quiet day, when all nature seemed gentle and thoughtful, Ivan Ivanich and Burkin felt a surge of love for this plain and thought how vast and beautiful it was their country." ". If beauty and love do not guarantee happiness, what can? After reading and rereading the story it becomes clear what Chekhov means by the word happiness. T......middle of paper..... .peasants in his home without compensation. Chekhov also worked in clinics during times of famine and epidemic. Thus, Chekhov was exposed to all "... the terrible things of life that take place behind the scenes." good deeds throughout his life, it is likely that he felt as if he had not done enough. One reason he might have felt this way was his long and painful battle with tuberculosis. He writes towards the end of the story: "I am old and unfit to fight, I am incapable even of feeling hatred. I can only suffer inside myself, and give in to irritation and annoyance, at night my head burns from the rush of thoughts, and I can't sleep...Oh, if I were young!" Anton Chekhov was not at all old when he died of tuberculosis. But how old it must make a man feel knowing that his days are numbered.