Letter · 1883

To N. A. Leikin, 25 June 1883. Moscow.

Н. А. Лейкину, 25 июня 1883 г. Москва.

Headnote

In June 1883 Chekhov was twenty-three, still a medical student in Moscow, and already one of the more reliable hands writing short humor for Nikolai Leikin’s Petersburg weekly Oskolki ("Splinters" or "Fragments"), the magazine that would carry the bulk of his early comic work and, not incidentally, pay the bills for a large and financially precarious family. Leikin was not merely an editor to the young Chekhov but a patron and gatekeeper – famously exacting about length, tone, and turnaround – and this letter shows Chekhov managing that relationship with the mixture of deference and self-deprecating candor that marks his early correspondence with older literary men.

The occasion is a new assignment: Leikin has asked Chekhov to take over the "Moscow notes," a column of local miscellany and gossip that Chekhov admits, with characteristic bluntness, had previously been badly done and would barely be missed if it vanished. He is candid about his own unsuitability for the form – he doubts he has the eye for it, calls himself "poor in observation of the present moment" – while at the same time performing exactly the kind of quick, self-mocking comic voice Leikin was paying for: the mock ultimatum ("pfft!"), the invented verb routines, the running joke about becoming "a Podkhalimov" (a fawning toady, from the stock comic type of Russian satire) after failing, not for the first time, to deliver promised stories on schedule.

Two small pieces of literary business surface in passing. The story he mentions finishing and shelving, "Petrov den’" ("St. Peter’s Day"), came out too long for Leikin’s format and was set aside rather than cut to fit – an early instance of Chekhov’s practical, market-driven relationship to his own length and form. And the letter’s closing joke, about turning into a "Podkhalimov," points to the comic persona – deferential, put-upon, endlessly promising and endlessly late – that the young "Antosha Chekhonte" cultivated for his editors even as he was, in fact, delivering with real regularity. The tone throughout is light, but the letter is also a working document: a young professional writer negotiating an assignment, a deadline, and a debt of trust with the man who was making his early career possible.

25 June 1883. Moscow.
25 июня 1883 г. Москва.
Dear
Уважаемый
I am sending you the Moscow notes, and with them one small declaration: this is the first time I have written a humorous feuilleton. I am inexperienced and not very knowledgeable. I will not go off to become an actor, I will not take up milling, but I cannot vouch that I won’t be dry, empty of content, and, chiefly, not funny. I will try. If it does, take it and print it, and if it doesn’t, then... pfft! I will keep sending you little couplets – you choose, and for God’s sake don’t stand on ceremony. By the power given you from God, cross out anything awkward or suspected of being no good. I am squeamish, but not on behalf of "Oskolki." Had another editorial office offered me this work, I would have refused, or managed without this declaration, but with you I obey and speak the truth. If you strike out my notes altogether and tell me "pass!", I will take even that with an easy soul. What is dear to me is not my own interests but the interests of "Oskolki." Toward the "Strekozy" and "Budilniki" I am indifferent, but I am grieved if I see in "Oskolki" anything that has not come off, mine or another’s – a sign that your business, which as I know by hearsay and by your deeds you conduct with energy and with faith, is close to my heart.
Посылаю Вам моск заметки, а с ними и одно маленькое заявление: пишу я юмористический фельетон впервые. Неопытен и малосведущ. В актеры я не уйду, мельницей не займусь, но не могу ручаться, что не буду сух, бессодержателен и, главное, не юмористичен. Буду стараться. Если годится, берите и печатайте, а если не годится, то... фюйть! Буду высылать Вам куплетцы, Вы выбирайте и, ради бога, не церемоньтесь. Данною Вам от бога властью херьте всё неудобное и подозреваемое в негодности. Я щепетилен, но не для "Осколок". Предложи мне эту работу другая редакция, я отказался бы или обошелся бы без этого заявления, но у Вас я слушаюсь и говорю правду. Если Вы даже вовсе похерите мои заметки и скажете мне "пас!", то и это я приму с легкою душою. Мне дороги не мои интересы, а интересы "Осколок". К "Стрекозам" и "Будильникам" я отношусь индифферентно, но печалюсь, если вижу в "Осколках" что-либо невытанцевавшееся, мое или чужое,– признак, что мне близко к сердцу Ваше дело, которое, как мне известно это по слухам и поступкам, Вы ведете с энергией и с верой.
Earlier the Moscow notes were kept in shabby fashion. They stood out from the general tone by their purely Moscow tone: dryness, pettiness, and carelessness. If they had not existed, the reader would have lost very little. In my opinion, there is no one in Moscow to write you notes. I am trying out my small powers, but... I don’t believe in it either. I too have the Moscow tone. I will not be too petty, I will not go picking at dirty napkins and minor actors, but at the same time I am poor in observation of the present moment and somewhat too general, and the latter is awkward for notes. Decide... I will send more soon.
Ранее моск заметки велись неказисто. Они выделялись из общего тона своим чисто московским тоном: сухость, мелочность и небрежность. Если бы их не было, то читатель потерял бы весьма мало. По моему мнению, в Москве некому писать к Вам заметки. Пробую свои силишки, но... тоже не верю. Я ведь тоже с московским тоном. Не буду слишком мелочен, не стану пробирать грязных салфеток и маленьких актеров, но в то же время я нищ наблюдательностью текущего и несколько общ, а последнее неудобно для заметок. Решайте... Скоро пришлю еще.
I received the books, am reading them, and thank you. You kept your promise, but it did not serve me as a good example: I did not keep my promise and did not send the stories. This time I ask you to forgive me.
Книги получил, читаю и благодарю. Вы сдержали Ваше обещание, но это не послужило мне добрым примером: я не сдержал обещание и не выслал рассказов. На этот раз прошу простить.
I was upset, and along with me my hurdy-gurdy got out of tune too. Now I have come to myself and am sitting down to work. "St. Peter’s Day" (a story) came out too long. I have copied it out clean and locked it away until next year, and now I won’t send it anywhere. I am sitting down now to write for you. Saturday is your day with me. Tomorrow I will probably send something, but... don’t believe it, all the same... I am little by little turning into a Podkhalimov, and I have deceived you more than once already...
Был расстроен, а вместе со мной расстроилась и моя шарманка. Теперь пришел в себя и сажусь за работу. "Петров день" (рассказ) вышел слишком длинен. Я его переписал начисто и запер до будущего года, а теперь никуда не пошлю. Сейчас сажусь писать для Вас. Суббота у меня Ваш день. Завтра, вероятно, вышлю, но... не верьте, впрочем... Я мало-помалу становлюсь Подхалимовым и обманул Вас уж не раз...
And with that allow me to remain your most humble servant
А за сим позвольте оставаться Вашим покорнейшим слугою

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To N. A. Leikin, 25 June 1883. Moscow.

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