Letter · 1891

To A. S. Suvorin, 26 October 1891. Moscow.

А. С. СУВОРИНУ, 26 октября 1891 г. Москва.

Headnote

Written from Moscow on 26 October 1891, the letter is short and businesslike, moving through several unrelated errands before closing on a private note.

The opening item concerns the famine-relief fund "New Times" was collecting: a small sum from the pupils of the Rzhevskaya boarding school is to be acknowledged in print, with the money passed along to Alexei Alexeyevich, Suvorin’s son, who was handling such donations for the paper. Chekhov then talks Suvorin’s associate "Al. Al." out of an ill-timed trip to inspect a property near Zaraysk, on both practical grounds (bad roads, a cold) and characteristically self-interested ones (he’d rather have him to dinner at Testov’s, a well-known Moscow restaurant). The request to print "The Duel" only once a week rather than twice reflects Chekhov’s ongoing discomfort with anything that looks like special treatment from the paper – a recurring theme in these months, alongside his wry deflection of gossip about an engagement to "the rich Sibiryakova," evidently a rumor circulating among the Petersburg literary crowd with no basis in fact.

The letter’s real center is the paragraph on rereading "War and Peace" at night, which gives one of Chekhov’s clearest statements of his resistance to Tolstoy’s Napoleon: he finds the novel’s ordinary characters – Pierre, Prince Andrei, even the "insignificant" Nikolai Rostov – rendered with full naturalness, while Napoleon is bent out of shape to serve the book’s argument that he was a lesser man than he was. The following section, on Prince Andrei’s wound, lets Chekhov’s own medical training show through: his complaint that a wealthy, well-tended patient’s wound could still turn gangrenous is less a literary quibble than a physician’s judgment on the state of medicine in the era the novel depicts, and the closing line about Tolstoy "soaking himself through with hatred for medicine" while writing it anticipates Chekhov’s later, more developed objections to Tolstoy’s moralizing about doctors and disease.

The abrupt final line – "Keep well. My aunt has died." – is characteristic of the letters’ rapid tonal shifts: domestic news delivered flatly, without commentary, immediately before the closing formula.

26 October 1891. Moscow.
26 октября 1891 г. Москва.
25 Oct.
25 окт.
5 rubles 85 kopecks came in to the "New Times" office from the pupils of the Rzhevskaya boarding school, for the benefit of the starving. Have that printed, please; the money I’ve handed over to Alexei Alexeyevich.
В редакцию "Нового времени" от учениц пансиона Ржевской в пользу голодающих поступило 5 р. 85 к. Это велите напечатать, а деньги я отдал Алексею Алексеевичу.
I talked Al. Al. out of going to Zaraysk. First, it’s not quite right for a man with a cold to travel 25 versts over a rutted road, on roads where at the moment you can’t get through either by sleigh or by wheel; second, in winter people only go look at estates when they want to be disillusioned with them; third, he can go in April just as well, the estate isn’t going anywhere, whereas plans can change; and fourth, I want to have dinner with him tomorrow at Testov’s – which is the most important thing of all.
Я отсоветовал Ал Ал ехать в Зарайск. Во-первых, ехать человеку с насморком по кочковатой дороге, 25 верст, по дорогам, где теперь не проедешь ни на санях, ни на колесах – это не совсем ладно; во-вторых, зимою осматривают именья только тогда, когда хотят в них разочароваться; в-третьих, он может и в апреле съездить, именье не уйдет, а планы могут измениться, и, в-четвертых, мне хочется с ним завтра пообедать у Тестова – это важнее всего.
Print "The Duel" not twice a week but only once. Printing it twice disrupts the paper’s long-established order and looks as though I’m taking a day away from the others, when in fact it makes no difference at all to me or to my story whether it runs once a week or twice.
Печатайте "Дуэль" не 2 раза в неделю, а только один раз. Печатание два раза нарушает давно заведенный порядок в газете и похоже на то, как будто я отнимаю у других один день в неделе, а между тем для меня и для моей повести всё равно печататься, что один, что два раза в неделю.
Among the Petersburg literary brotherhood there’s no talk of anything but the impurity of my motives. I’ve just had the pleasant news that I’m marrying the rich Sibiryakova. In general I get a great deal of good news.
Среди петербургской литературной братии только и разговоров, что о нечистоте моих побуждений. Сейчас получил приятное известие, что я женюсь на богатой Сибиряковой. Вообще много хороших известий я получаю.
Every night I wake up and read "War and Peace." You read it with such curiosity and such naive astonishment, as if you’d never read it before. Remarkably good. Only I don’t care for the parts with Napoleon in them. The moment it’s Napoleon, at once there’s strain and every sort of trick to prove he was stupider than he actually was. Everything Pierre, or Prince Andrei, or the utterly insignificant Nikolai Rostov does and says – all of it is good, intelligent, natural, and moving; whereas everything Napoleon thinks and does is unnatural, unintelligent, puffed up, and trivial in weight. When I go to live in the provinces (which I dream of now day and night), I mean to practice medicine and read novels.
Каждую ночь просыпаюсь и читаю "Войну и мир". Читаешь с таким любопытством и с таким наивным удивлением, как будто раньше не читал. Замечательно хорошо. Только не люблю тех мест, где Наполеон. Как Наполеон, так сейчас и натяжки, и всякие фокусы, чтобы доказать, что он глупее, чем был на самом деле. Всё, что делают и говорят Пьер, князь Андрей или совершенно ничтожный Николай Ростов,– всё это хорошо, умно, естественно и трогательно; всё же, что думает и делает Наполеон,– это не естественно, не умно, надуто и ничтожно по значению. Когда я буду жить в провинции (о чем я мечтаю теперь день и ночь), то буду медициной заниматься и романы читать.
I won’t be coming to Petersburg.
В Петербург я не приеду.
If I’d been at Prince Andrei’s side, I’d have cured him. It’s strange to read that the wound of a prince – a rich man who spent his days and nights with a doctor, attended by the care of Natasha and Sonya – gave off the smell of a corpse. What wretched medicine that was then! Tolstoy, while he was writing his fat novel, must have soaked himself through, without meaning to, with hatred for medicine.
Если б я был около князя Андрея, то я бы его вылечил. Странно читать, что рана князя, богатого человека, проводившего дни и ночи с доктором, пользовавшегося уходом Наташи и Сони, издавала трупный запах. Какая паршивая была тогда медицина! Толстой, пока писал свой толстый роман, невольно должен был пропитаться насквозь ненавистью к медицине.
Keep well. My aunt has died.
Будьте здоровы. Тетка умерла.
Yours, A. Chekhov.

Cite this passage

To A. S. Suvorin, 26 October 1891. 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)