Letter · 1888

To Ye. M. Lintvareva, 9 October 1888. Moscow.

Е. М. ЛИНТВАРЕВОЙ, 9 октября 1888 г. Москва.

Headnote

1 Written from Moscow on 9 October 1888 to Elena Mikhailovna Lintvaryova, the eldest of the Lintvaryov sisters and a physician at the family’s Sumy estate, Luka, where the Chekhov household summered. As far as this corpus documents, it is the first letter addressed directly to Elena Mikhailovna herself, rather than about her: the earlier letters to Alexander Chekhov and to Suvorin discuss her only in the third person, weighing whether Alexander’s proposed courtship of her was genuine. Here Chekhov writes to her as a friend and colleague in her own right – he addresses her as "dear colleague" and "doctor," in keeping with her medical practice – with no reference to the courtship question at all.

2 The letter is a miscellany of small business and news. Chekhov apologizes for writing on plain paper, gives instructions (with studied indifference to price) for plakhtas – traditional Ukrainian woven skirt-wraps – he has evidently asked her to help him buy, and reports on the delayed Garshin memorial volume (a collective volume of tributes being assembled after the writer Vsevolod Garshin’s suicide that spring, to which Chekhov is himself contributing) and on a story just sent to the "Northern Herald." He then reports, with his characteristic self-deprecating irony, that the Academy of Sciences has awarded him the Pushkin Prize, and describes at some length – quoting several lines adapted from Othello’s farewell speech in Shakespeare’s play – how the sudden rush of prize, telegrams, congratulations, and literary society has knocked him out of his settled country routine and its pleasures. He closes with regards to Elena Mikhailovna’s mother, Alexandra Vasilyevna, and the rest of the household, a one-line joke about Suvorin’s forgotten spectacles joining his growing collection of guests’ left-behind belongings, and a note that the Garshin volume will be sent to her.

9 October 1888. Moscow.
9 октября 1888 г. Москва.
9 October.
9 октябрь.
Forgive me, dear colleague, for writing to you on plain paper. There was not a single sheet of letter paper to be found in the desk, and there is no time to wait for some to be brought from the shop.
Простите, уважаемый товарищ, что я пишу Вам на простой бумаге. Почтовой не оказалось в столе ни единого листика, а ждать, когда принесут из лавочки, некогда.
This is about the plakhtas. Please don’t trouble yourself over the price. I gave you figures only because I have no idea what they actually cost. In choosing the plakhtas, favor the dark, fade-prone colors. Forgive me, dear doctor, for the bother! If you’re cross with me, write me an abusive letter: I shall read it and press it humbly to my heart.
Я насчет плахт. В цене, пожалуйста, не беспокойтесь. Я назначил Вам цифры, потому что не имею понятия о цене. Выбирая плахты, останавливайте свой выбор предпочтительно на темных и линючих цветах. Простите, милый доктор, за беспокойство! Если Вы сердитесь, то напишите мне ругательное письмо: я прочту его и смиренно прижму к сердцу.
The Garshin memorial volume will come out in December. The delay is on account of the fiction writers, who will scarcely produce anything worthwhile. I am contributing too.
Гаршинский сборник выйдет в декабре. Задержка от беллетристов, которые едва ли дадут что-нибудь путное. Я тоже даю.
The story of about two and a half printer’s sheets has already been sent off to the "Northern Herald." The beginning and end read with interest, but the middle is chewed-up bast fiber. I didn’t have enough powder in me!
Рассказ в 2? листа уже послан в "Сев вестник". Начало и конец читаются с интересом, но середина – жеваная мочалка. Не хватило пороху!
In my stove the wind is howling plaintively. It’s saying something, the rascal, but I can’t make out what.
В моей печке воет жалобно ветер. Что-то он, подлец, говорит, но что – не пойму никак.
I have had word that the Academy of Sciences has awarded me the Pushkin Prize of 500 roubles. You must already know of this from the newspaper telegrams. It will be officially announced on the 19th of October at a public session of the Academy, with all the classical solemnity the occasion calls for. It must be, I suppose, for catching crayfish.
Получил я известие, что Академия наук присудила мне Пушкинскую премию в 500 р. Это, должно быть, известно уже Вам из газетных телеграмм. Официально объявят об этом 19-го окт в публичном заседании Академии с подобающей случаю классической торжественностью. Это, должно быть, за то, что я раков ловил.
The prize, the telegrams, the congratulations, the friends, the actors, the actresses, the plays – all of it has thrown me clean out of my rut. The past grows hazy in my head, I am dazed; the mire and the devilry of city, literary bustle is closing over me like an octopus, a devilfish. Everything is lost! Farewell, summer; farewell, crayfish, fish, sharp-nosed little skiffs; farewell, my idleness; farewell, my little pale-blue suit.
Премия, телеграммы, поздравления, приятели, актеры, актрисы, пьесы – всё это выбило меня из колеи. Прошлое туманится в голове, я ошалел; тина и чертовщина городской, литераторской суеты охватывают меня, как спрут-осьминог. Всё пропало! Прощай лето, прощайте раки, рыба, остроносые челноки, прощай моя лень, прощай голубенький костюмчик.
Farewell, peace of mind; forgive me, my contentment!
Прощай, покой, прости, мое довольство!
Farewell, farewell it all! Forgive me, my neighing steed,
Всё, всё прости! Прости, мой ржущий конь,
And the blare of the trumpet, and the roll of the drum,
И звук трубы, и грохот барабана,
And the shrill of the fife, and the royal banner,
И флейты свист, и царственное знамя,
All the honors, all the glory, all the grandeur
Все почести, вся слава, всё величье
And the stormy alarms of famous wars!
И бурные тревоги славных войн!
Forgive me, you deadly engines of war,
Простите вы, смертельные орудья,
Whose roar goes rolling out across the earth
Которых гул несется по земле,
Like the dread thunder of immortal Zeus!
Как грозный гром бессмертного Зевеса!
If a passionate love has ever swept you out of your past and your present, then it is very nearly what I feel now. Ah, this is no good, doctor, no good at all! Once a man starts quoting verses, it means things have gone badly!
Если когда-нибудь страстная любовь выбивала Вас из прошлого и настоящего, то тоже самое почти я чувствую теперь. Ах, нехорошо всё это, доктор, нехорошо! Уж коли стал стихи цитировать, то, стало быть, нехорошо!
But I’m afraid of wearing out my welcome with you. Be well and be merry. To Alexandra Vasilyevna I kiss her hand with respect, and to everyone else I send my warm regards.
Однако боюсь надоесть Вам. Будьте здоровы и веселы. Александре Васильевне почтительно целую руку, а всем прочим посылаю сердечный привет.
Suvorin left his spectacles at my place. I’ve added them to Pleshcheev’s shirt and Barantsevich’s trousers. The museum is growing.
I have written so that the Garshin memorial volume will be sent to you.
Написал, чтобы Вам выслали Гаршинский сборник.

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To Ye. M. Lintvareva, 9 October 1888. Moscow.

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