Letter · 1889

To A. S. Lazarev, 1 November 1889. Moscow.

А. С. ЛАЗАРЕВУ (ГРУЗИНСКОМУ), 1 ноября 1889 г. Москва.

Headnote

Written on 1 November 1889 in Moscow to Alexander Semyonovich Lazarev, who wrote under the pen name Gruzinsky – a younger writer and journalist whom Chekhov mentored, corresponded with regularly through the late 1880s, and treated with a mixture of blunt professional criticism and real personal warmth. By this date Chekhov was already an established and busy author (The Wood Demon and the years around Ivanov lie just behind and ahead of this letter), acting here as an informal literary and theatrical advisor to a younger colleague, a role he took on for several correspondents in this period.

The bulk of the letter is a detailed dramaturgical critique of a vaudeville (a one-act comic play) Lazarev had sent him for comment. Chekhov praises the writing but faults the construction: an opening monologue for a minor character (Dasha) that sets up an expectation the play never pays off (the "loaded rifle" image, an early instance of a principle later associated with Chekhov’s dramatic technique generally); a male lead (Gorshkov) whose reminiscences lack tonal variety, which Chekhov illustrates by rewriting a sample line in a more vivid register; and an underused wife character. Chekhov then sketches an alternative four-character structure of his own invention – husband, wife, Gorshkov, and an errand to a bank – ending in slapstick (broken crockery, a man hiding under a table) and a mock-grandiose theatrical flourish invoking Medea and a parody of a storm scene from King Lear. He closes the topic by giving Lazarev the choice of sending the play out as-is or having it returned for revision, with no pressure to hurry.

Shorter items follow in Chekhov’s characteristic epistolary shorthand: a question, without further explanation, about money of Lazarev’s that went missing at "Singer’s" (probably the Singer sewing-machine company’s Moscow office/shop, used here as a bank-like or shipping intermediary); an aside about a play Lazarev was planning to call a "subbotnik" (a term Chekhov uses loosely here for a longer, more ambitious dramatic work, distinct from the vaudeville just discussed) with a wry, self-deprecating remark that he will not live to see it himself; brief health wishes; mock indignation at Lazarev’s having sent him postage stamps unasked (with comic self-comparisons to Gogol’s miserly Plyushkin and to Diogenes) alongside a request for more writing paper and envelopes; frank praise of Lazarev’s recent stories along with pointed craft advice – drop the stock names "Kuzya" and "Semyon" and the flat, "titular councillor" register of his characters, and write with more color and sensory richness (the untranslated word opoponax, kept as a loan in the translation, names a fashionable heavy perfume/resin scent of the period, used here as one item in a list of luxurious, vivid sensory detail); closing regards to Lazarev’s wife; a request that he write and say when he will visit; and a stray, deadpan closing fact – that there really is a town called Balagansk in Siberia – which reads as a private joke or a callback to some exchange between the two men not otherwise preserved in this letter.

1 November 1889. Moscow.
1 ноября 1889 г. Москва.
1 November.
1 ноябрь.
Dearest Alexander Semyonovich! I received your vaudeville and read it at once. It is beautifully written, but its architecture is intolerable. Not stage-worthy at all. Judge for yourself. Dasha’s first monologue is entirely unnecessary, for it juts out like a growth. It would be in place if you wished to make of Dasha something more than a mere walk-on role, and if the monologue – which promises so much to the spectator – had some bearing on the content or the effects of the play. One must not set a loaded rifle on the stage if no one means to fire it. One must not make promises. Let Dasha keep silent altogether – that would be better.
Добрейший Александр Семенович! Водевиль Ваш получил и моментально прочел. Написан он прекрасно, но архитектура его несносна. Совсем не сценично. Судите сами. Первый монолог Даши совершенно не нужен, ибо он торчит наростом. Он был бы у места, если бы Вы пожелали сделать из Даши не просто выходную роль и если бы он, монолог, много обещающий для зрителя, имел бы какое-нибудь отношение к содержанию или эффектам пьесы. Нельзя ставить на сцене заряженное ружье, если никто не имеет в виду выстрелить из него. Нельзя обещать. Пусть Даша молчит совсем – этак лучше.
Gorshkov talks a great deal, so much that Kashalotov would have had a thousand chances to draw him aside and whisper: "Hold your tongue, you old beast! My wife is right here!" But he does not do this... Where does such carelessness come from? Is it a trait of character? If so, it ought to be explained... As for the wife, if one looks at her as a woman’s role, she is quite meager. She says so little, so very little, that Dasha and she could both be played by a mute actress. Gorshkov is good, only in the manner of his reminiscing one senses a certain monotony... There needs to be more ardor and more variety. For instance, of the actresses Kashalotov once courted, he speaks in the very same tone as he does of cards and the lockup – the same transitions, precise as an arithmetic progression... Whereas he might speak like this: "Ah, what actresses there used to be! Take, for example, Loporelova! Talent, bearing, beauty, fire! I call on her once, God knows when, at her rooms – you were living with her then – and there she is, learning her part..." And so on. That is quite another manner.
Горшков говорит много, так много, что Кашалотов 1000 раз успел бы отозвать его в сторону и шепнуть: "Замолчи, старая скотина! Жена здесь!" Но он этого не делает... Откуда такая неосторожность? Черта характера? Если да, то надо бы пояснить... Засим жена, если глядеть на нее как на женскую роль, совсем скудна. Она говорит мало, так мало, что Дашу и ее может исполнять немая актриса. Горшков хорош, только в приеме его воспоминаний чувствуется некоторое однообразие... Нужно побольше увлечения и побольше разнообразия. Так, наприм, об актрисах, за которыми ухаживал Кашалотов, он говорит таким же тоном, как о картах и кутузке, те же переходы, точно арифметическая прогрессия... А мог бы он так говорить: "А какие прежде актрисы были! Взять, к примеру, хоть Лопорелову! Талант, осанка, красота, огонь! Прихожу раз, дай бог память, к тебе в номер – ты тогда с ней жил,– а она роль учит..." И т. д. Тут уж другой прием.
A calculating man, given four characters to work with in a play, would in your place have done as follows: he would have given one strong male role and one strong female role, and brought the other two in merely as accessories. The strong male role you already have ready-made – that is Gorshkov. A strong female role is easily made out of the wife, and the husband and Dasha ought to be pushed aside. I would have done it this way: the husband enters and introduces to his wife an old friend he has met at the "Livorno." "Give him some coffee, my dear, and I’ll just run to the bank for a minute and be right back"; the wife and Gorshkov are left alone on stage; the latter begins reminiscing and blurts out everything that needs to come out; the returning husband finds broken crockery and the old friend hidden under the table from fright; it ends with Gorshkov gazing at the enraged wife with tenderness and rapture and saying: "Out of you, madam, a great tragic actress might have been made! There’s a Medea for you to play!" The husband and wife quarrel, and he delivers a terrible monologue from Lear, as if amid a storm... or something of that kind... beyond that it is no longer my business.
Расчетливый человек, давая в пьесе четырех лиц, поступил бы на Вашем месте так: он дал бы одну сильную мужскую роль и одну сильную женскую, а две остальные ввел бы аксессуарно. Сильная мужская у Вас готова – это Горшков. Женскую легко сделать из жены, а мужа и Дашу надо побоку. Я бы так сделал: входит муж и рекомендует жене старого друга, которого встретил в "Ливорно". "Напой его, матушка, кофейком, а я на минутку сбегаю в банк и сейчас вернусь"; остаются на сцене жена и Горшков; последний начинает вспоминать и выбалтывает всё, что нужно; вернувшийся муж застает разбитую посуду и старого друга, спрятавшегося от страха под стол; кончается тем, что Горшков с умилением, с восторгом глядит на разъяренную супругу и говорит: "Из Вас, сударыня, вышла бы сильная трагическая актриса! Вот бы кому Медею играть!" Супруги бранятся, а он говорит страшный монолог из "Лира", якобы под бурю... или что-нибудь вроде... дальше уж не мое дело.
Such is my opinion. I will await your letter. Choose whichever you like: either I send the play off as it now stands – it may well succeed as it is, for it is better than a hundred other vaudevilles – or else I send it back to you for reworking. There is no need to hurry; you will still have time enough to hear the applause with your wife.
Таково мое мнение. Буду ждать Вашего письма. Выбирайте любое: или я отдам пьесу в ее настоящем виде – она и так может пойти, ибо она лучше сотни водевилей, или же я вышлю ее Вам обратно для переделки. Спешить незачем, успеете еще с Вашей женой наслушаться аплодисментов.
Is it really true that your money went missing at Singer’s? Do not joke about such a thing.
Серьезно у Зингера пропали Ваши деньги? Вы этим не шутите.
I am glad you are thinking of writing a full-length play [subbotnik]. I shall not live to see it, but my grandchildren will – and for that, thanks be.
Рад, что Вы собираетесь писать субботник. Я не доживу до этого, доживут мои внуки – и на том спасибо.
Keep well.
Будьте здоровы.
If you had not sent me the stamps, neither I nor literature would have suffered for it. What is this chivalry about? As if I were Plyushkin, or as poor as Diogenes. Might you not, while you are at it, also send some writing paper and envelopes?
Если бы Вы не прислали мне марок, то от этого не пострадали бы ни я, ни литература. Что за рыцарство? Точно я Плюшкин или беден, как Диоген. Не пришлете ли уж кстати почтовой бумаги и конвертов?
I am reading your stories. I notice enormous progress. Only drop the name Kuzya, the name Semyon, and the philistine, petty, titular-councillor tone of your characters. More lace, more opoponax, more lilac, more orchestral music, more ringing speeches... That is to say, write with more color. Your own physiognomy has already taken shape, and I congratulate you on it. That is good, and I am glad of your successes.
Читаю Ваши рассказы. Прогресс замечаю огромный. Только бросьте Кузю, имя Семен и обывательски-мещански-титулярный тон Ваших героев. Побольше кружев, опопанакса, сирени, побольше оркестровой музыки, звонких речей... Сиречь, пишите колоритней. Физиономия Ваша уже выработалась, с чем я Вас и поздравляю. Это хорошо, и я рад Вашим успехам.
Keep well. Give my regards to your wife.
Будьте здоровы. Поклонитесь Вашей жене.
Yours, A. Chekhov.
When will you be coming?
Когда приедете?
Write to me.
Пишите.
There is a town called Balagansk in Siberia.
Город Балаганск есть в Сибири.

Cite this passage

To A. S. Lazarev, 1 November 1889. Moscow.

Pick a format and click Copy. The permalink jumps any reader to this exact section.

Support this project

Free to read here. Buy the ebook to support the work.

Ebook coming soon

The ebook edition in this language is on its way.(English)