Letter · 1889

To A. N. Pleshcheyev, 7 March 1889. Moscow.

А. Н. ПЛЕЩЕЕВУ, 7 марта 1889 г. Москва.

Headnote

1 Written from Moscow on 7 March 1889 to the poet and editor Alexei Nikolayevich Pleshcheyev, a warm, personal letter catching up after a gap in their correspondence: news of Chekhov’s daily life, the continuing fallout from the success of his play "Ivanov," his current writing plans, and family greetings, closing with a wry note about a old schoolmate’s poetic ambitions.

2 Chekhov opens by remarking how long it has been since he wrote or heard from Pleshcheyev and asks after his health and news (3), then describes his own uneventful life, impatience for spring, and the money he is spending from "Ivanov" (4). Still on the subject of "Ivanov," he reports that copies are being requested from Rassokhin’s library from the provinces and from private individuals, but the printer Demakov has not yet sent him the offprints, and asks Pleshcheyev to prod Demakov if he happens to see him (5). He describes his current work – one story sent to Suvorin, another being polished, a novel planned for the summer that he intends, in his heart if not yet in print, to dedicate to Pleshcheyev (6) – and declares he will give up playwriting for the season in favor of prose, aside from small pieces written purely for money (7). He passes on family greetings, including his sister’s invitation to Pleshcheyev’s companion Elena Alexeyevna to join them for the summer at Luka, promising music to keep things lively (8), closes with a blessing and his signature (9-10), and adds a postscript about a former schoolmate, P. A. Sergeyenko, who has sent him verses to pass along to "Severny Vestnik" – which Chekhov says he is doing, though he has already told the author to expect complete failure (11).

7 March 1889. Moscow.
7 марта 1889 г. Москва.
7 March.
7 марта.
It has been a long while since I wrote to you, dear Alexei Nikolayevich, and a long while since I had letters from you. I miss it. How are you living, how is your health, what news do you have?
Давно уж я не писал Вам, милый Алексей Николаевич, и давно уж не получал от Вас писем. Соскучился. Как Вы живете, как Ваше здоровье, что у Вас нового?
I live drably, as usual. There is nothing new; I await spring impatiently, and am spending, with all the abandon of a proper Ivanovo-day spree, the money I got for my "Ivanov."
Я живу серо, по обыкновению. Нового ничего нет, ожидаю нетерпеливо весну и во всю ивановскую трачу те деньги, которые получил за своего "Иванова".
Speaking of "Ivanov" – requests are coming in to Rassokhin’s library from the provinces and from private individuals, and meanwhile Demakov for some reason is not sending me the offprints. Rassokhin has buried me in letters. If you see Demakov, my dear fellow, tell him to hurry up.
Кстати, об "Иванове". В библиотеку Рассохина поступают требования из провинции и от частных лиц, а между тем Демаков почему-то не шлет мне оттисков. Рассохин засыпал меня письмами. Если увидите, голубчик, Демакова, то скажите ему, чтоб поторопился.
I am writing stories. One I already sent off to Suvorin the other day; another I am writing bit by bit and polishing. In summer I shall be sweating over a novel. I shall dedicate my novel to you – my soul bequeathed me to do so. I have never yet dedicated anything to you in print, but in my dreams and my plans, my very best work is dedicated to you.
Пишу рассказы. Один уже послал на днях Суворину, другой пишу помаленьку и шлифую. Летом буду коптеть над романом. Свой роман посвящу я Вам – это завещала мне моя душа. Я Вам еще ничего не посвящал в печати, но в мечтах и в планах моих Вам посвящена моя самая лучшая вещь.
I shall not be writing plays. If I have the leisure, I shall do something pour manger for bread’s sake (French: pour manger), but autumn and winter I shall give over entirely to prose fiction. The fame of a playwright does not smile on me.
Пьес не стану писать. Если будет досуг, то сделаю что-нибудь пур манже хлеба ради (франц. pour manger), но осень и зиму буду отдавать только беллетристике. Не улыбается мне слава драматурга.
Everyone here bows to you. My sister sends her greetings to Elena Alexeyevna and invites her to us for the summer. To Luka we are taking musicians with us, so it will not be dull.
Все мои Вам кланяются. Сестра шлет свой привет Елене Алексеевне и приглашает ее к нам на лето. На Луку мы берем с собой музыкантов, не будет скучно.
Be well, and God keep you.
Будьте здоровы и да хранит Вас бог.
A certain P. A. Sergeyenko studied with me at the gymnasium. He writes verse and is getting published. Yesterday he sent me a couple of poems asking that I forward them to the "Severny Vestnik," which I am doing, having written to the author that I predict for him, in advance, the most complete fiasco.
Со мной учился в гимназии некий П. А. Сергеенко. Он пишет стихи и печатается. Прислал мне вчера пару стихов с просьбой послать их в "Сев вестник", что я и исполняю, написав автору, что я заранее предрекаю ему полнейшее фиаско.

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To A. N. Pleshcheyev, 7 March 1889. Moscow.

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