Letter · 1889

To K. S. Barantsevich, 3 February 1889. Moscow.

К. С. БАРАНЦЕВИЧУ, 3 февраля 1889 г. Москва.

Headnote

1 Written on 3 February 1889, just after Chekhov’s return to Moscow from Petersburg, where he had been immersed in rehearsals for "Ivanov" at the Alexandrinsky Theater. The addressee is the writer Kazimir Stanislavovich Barantsevich, a Petersburg acquaintance with whom Chekhov had recently sparred publicly but clearly remained on warm personal terms.

2 Barantsevich had apparently written asking Chekhov to help place a schoolfellow of his in a job at "Novoye Vremya." Chekhov reports back that he raised the matter with Kolomnin, who manages the paper’s business side, and learned what he already suspected: every position in the office and shop is filled, with two candidates already waiting for each. He apologizes for the disappointing answer, then turns to his own state of mind – he had fled Petersburg exhausted and ashamed, undone by the fumes of theatrical intrigue, and reflects, half in earnest, that failure makes him braver than success does. He asks pardon of Barantsevich’s family for leaving without saying goodbye, sends warm wishes, signs off, and asks for a reply. A postscript relays the family’s thanks for a dinner Barantsevich had given him in Petersburg, framed through a comic account of his mother’s disbelief that restaurant food, or a rich man’s table, could ever be as filling as a married man’s home cooking.

3 February 1889. Moscow.
3 февраля 1889 г. Москва.
3 February.
3 февраль.
Dear Kazimir Stanislavovich, I fled to Moscow, I’m already sitting at my own desk, and my first order of business is to answer your kind letter, which I received on the eve of "Ivanov." I spoke about your schoolfellow with Kolomnin, who is in charge of the business side at "Novoye Vremya." Kolomnin told me what I already knew: all the places in the office and in the shop are taken, and for every place there are already two candidates in reserve. And he was telling the truth. I know how things stand at Novoye Vremya. In the newspaper itself there are always vacant places to be found, but in the office and the shop everything has been taken since the days of Ochakov. Forgive me, my dear fellow, for answering your letter not as you would have wished. To my misfortune and shame, of late I too often find myself answering human letters in an inhuman way. Glad would I be to go to paradise, but my sins won’t let me in.
Милый Казимир Станиславович, я бежал в Москву, сижу уже за своим столом и первым делом отвечаю на Ваше милое письмо, полученное мною накануне "Иванова". Я говорил о Вашем однокашнике с Коломниным, заведующим в "Новом времени" хозяйственной частью. Коломнин заявил мне то, что я раньше знал: все места в конторе и в магазине заняты, и на каждое место уже имеется в запасе по два кандидата. И он сказал правду. Положение нововременских дел мне известно. В газете вакантные места всегда найдутся, в конторе же и в магазине всё занято еще со времен Очакова. Простите, голубчик, что на Ваше письмо я отвечаю не так, как бы Вам хотелось. К моему несчастью и стыду, в последнее время мне слишком часто приходится отвечать на человеческие письма не по-человечески. Рад бы в рай, да грехи не пускают.
I fled from Petersburg. The fumes got the better of me. I was worn out, and besides, I was ashamed the whole time. When I have no luck I am braver than when I do. In times of success I turn coward and feel a strong urge to hide under the table.
Я бежал из Питера. Одолел угар. Изнемог я, да и стыдно всё время было. Когда мне не везет, я храбрее, чем тогда, когда везет. Во время удачи я трушу и чувствую сильное желание спрятаться под стол.
I beg pardon of your household for not coming to say goodbye. I was a hare being harried by hounds. My regards to everyone, and to you, dear friend, I wish every good thing both in literature and on the horse-tram. May the angels of heaven keep you.
Прошу прощения у Ваших за то, что не пришел проститься. Я был зайцем, которого трепали гончие. Кланяюсь всем, а Вам, милый друг, желаю всего хорошего и в литературе и на конно-железке. Да хранят Вас ангелы небесные.
Drop me a couple of lines.
Черкните мне парочку строчек.
All of mine send you their regards, and my mother told me to thank you for feeding me dinner. In her opinion I, poor boy, went about Petersburg hungry, tongue hanging out. She has never dined in restaurants and cannot believe that waiters, people who are complete strangers, could feed anyone properly. And in her opinion it is impossible to dine well at rich people’s houses, since in rich houses they give very little soup and consider it improper if anyone eats a great deal; but you are a married man, you have children, and so, in her opinion, the dinners at your house are the genuine article, as they ought to be.
Все мои кланяются Вам, а мать велела поблагодарить за то, что Вы покормили меня обедом. По ее мнению, я, бедный мальчик, ходил по Питеру голодный, высунув язык. Она никогда не обедала в ресторанах и не может поверить, чтобы официанты, люди совершенно чужие, могли накормить сытно. А у богачей, по ее мнению, обедать невозможно, так как в богатых домах дают очень немного супу и считают неприличным, если кто много ест, Вы же человек женатый, дети у Вас есть, стало быть, по ее мнению, и обеды у Вас настоящие, как быть должно.

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