Letter · 1890

To A. S. Suvorin, 17 March 1890. Moscow.

А. С. СУВОРИНУ, 17 марта 1890 г. Москва.

Headnote

It is long and runs through several loosely-linked topics in the way Chekhov’s fuller letters to Suvorin typically do – a dateline, a name-day greeting, a substantive medical digression, literary criticism, a numbered list of five practical requests, money and travel talk, gossip about acquaintances, a closing courtesy, and a signed close – but it reads throughout as one sitting addressed to one person, with full unelided grammar, real salutational and closing gestures ("Будьте счастливы" / "Ваш А. Чехов"), and no break in addressee or register. read as a brief postscript-style afterthought (common in this corpus) rather than a separate item: they continue the same "you" (Suvorin) and the same practical throat-clearing tone as the numbered list earlier in the letter. No structural or coherence concerns.

Written 17 March 1890 from Moscow, a few months before Chekhov’s departure for Sakhalin (he left in April 1890). Suvorin was Chekhov’s publisher, editor of "Novoye Vremya," and principal correspondent in these years. The letter opens by asking whether the day is Suvorin’s name day (17 March/Old Style is the feast of St. Alexius, Man of God – gives the saint’s-day gloss that motivates the question), then moves through:

- A detailed, medically literal answer to a question Suvorin had evidently asked about "падучая" (the falling sickness/epilepsy), in the context of a criminal case involving an impostor and a boy’s death or injury by knife – Chekhov, writing as a trained physician, argues the impostor’s claim to have (or that the real party had) hereditary epilepsy is false, since true hereditary epilepsy would have persisted into old age. The case itself is not named or otherwise identified in the letter; it is presumably one under public discussion that Suvorin had asked Chekhov, as a doctor, to weigh in on for a newspaper piece. - Praise-with-reservation for a Suvorin feuilleton on fiction writers, paired with a sharp, half-joking refusal to comment on Suvorin’s own work in future ("touchiness is egoism of the 84th grade" – a play on assay/fineness marks for precious metal, i.e. a joke about purity grading). - A numbered list of five requests: tracking down a medical dissertation ("Dr. Gryaznov, Topography of Cherepovets District") through Suvorin’s bookshop; sending Chekhov’s own vaudeville (unnamed here) along with some books; answers on two people/matters referred to only by surname ("Ostrovsky,Filippov" – not otherwise identified in this letter); and asking Suvorin to hold money that the actor Svobodin is to collect from a theater directorate on Chekhov’s behalf, since Chekhov fears he’ll spend it if he keeps it himself. The request list closes with a mordant joke about death and exile (the righteous going abroad or to Feodosia, the sinners to "General Kononovich and his angels" – Vladimir Kononovich was the Russian administrator of the Sakhalin penal colony at this date, so the joke anticipates Chekhov’s own imminent journey there). - A tally of money owed and expected from various sources (the Society of Dramatic Writers, the story collection "Motley Stories," the journal "Severny Vestnik," and retail sales of his books through Suvorin’s shop), followed by a frank, self-mocking passage about the social/romantic distractions of the season and how the Sakhalin trip is cutting his summer short. - Blunt assessments of two acquaintances: the actor Medvedev (talented but provincial and not "intelligent enough" for a serious theater), and Chekhov’s older brother Alexander, whose drinking (and his wife’s drinking) and repeated failed marriages Chekhov discusses candidly and without sympathy. - A one-line joke about a Sakhalin village whose name, transliterated into Russian letters, happens to read as an obscenity – see - Brief items of theater and social gossip: a note that the actress Yermolova is not appearing in a play by Maslov; and an item about an acquaintance nicknamed "Jack Vinogradov," reported by Chekhov as having received some kind of promotion ("ober-Jack"), with a light jab at his wife Yelizaveta Zakharovna and his verbosity. - A closing courtesy and full signature, followed by two short postscript-like lines asking whether Suvorin received a story Chekhov sent, and noting that his sister and her friends are copying it out for him at the public library.

17 March 1890. Moscow.
17 марта 1890 г. Москва.
17 March. Alexius the Man of God.
17 марта. Алексия человека божия.
Isn’t it your name day? If so, congratulations.
Не именинник ли Вы? Если да, то поздравляю.
About the falling sickness you can read in any textbook of nervous diseases, and also (a researcher would need this) in the relevant section of forensic medicine, but you, not being a specialist, won’t find your way through the medical chaos. I’ll take a scrap of paper and sketch out for you in brief everything you need, and explain it, if I can manage to. The boy could have cut his own throat. Is it known what kind of knife he had in his hands? But the main thing is – his falling sickness was hereditary, which would have stayed with him into old age had he lived. It follows that the impostor really was an impostor, since he did not have the falling sickness. When it comes time to write about this, say that this particular America was discovered by the physician Chekhov – that’s all I need from you.
Насчет падучей можно прочесть в любом учебнике по нервным болезням, а также и (для исследователя это нужно) в соответствующем отделе судебной медидины, но Вы, не специалист, не разберетесь в медицинском хаосе. Я возьму клочок бумаги и вкратце набросаю Вам всё, что нужно, и объясню, буде сумею. Зарезать себя мальчик мог. Известно ли, какой нож был у него в руках? Но главное – падучая у него была наследственная, которая была бы у него и в старости, если бы он остался жив. Стало быть, самозванец был в самом деле самозванцем, так как падучей у него не было. Когда случится писать об этом, то скажите, что сию Америку открыл врач Чехов,– больше мне от Вас ничего не нужно.
Your feuilleton about the fiction writers I genuinely liked, and, for it to have come out very good, I told you, it needed only to take the question a bit wider – that is, to speak not only of the fiction writers alone, but of the lack of education in Russian society as a whole. I wasn’t being false in the least, I had no wish whatever to flatter you or console you, and so from now on I will never again say anything to you about your works. Touchiness is egoism of the 84th grade.
Ваш фельетон о беллетристах мне в самом деле понравился, и, чтобы он вышел очень хорошим, я говорил Вам, следовало только захватить вопрос пошире, т. е. поговорить не об одних только беллетристах, а о необразованности всего русского общества. Я нисколько не фальшивил, льстить Вам или утешать Вас вовсе не хотел, а посему впредь о Ваших произведениях говорить Вам никогда больше не буду. Мнительность – это эгоизм 84 пробы.
Now a request:
Теперь просьба:
1) I wrote to you about a certain dissertation. "Dr. Gryaznov, Topography of Cherepovets District." The stock of this edition was in your shop. Find out by telephone whether it can be had?
1) Я писал Вам об одной диссертации. "Д-р Грязнов, Топография Череповецкого уезда". Склад этого издания был у Вас в магазине. Узнайте по телефону, нельзя ли получить его?
2) Send my vaudeville along with the books.
2) Пришлите с книгами водевиль мой.
3) Answer me about Ostrovsky.
3) Ответьте насчет Островского.
4) Answer me about Filippov.
4) Ответьте насчет Филиппова.
5) I’ve asked Svobodin to collect my money from the theater directorate and hand it over to you. Let it stay with you until I ask for it, since I have nowhere to keep it safe, and besides I’m afraid I’ll squander it. Forgive me for wearing you out with trifles, but – just wait, the hour will soon strike in which all the righteous will depart abroad or to Feodosia, and the sinners to General Kononovich and his angels, and my commissions will come to an end.
5) Я поручил Свободину получить мои деньги из театральной дирекции и вручить их Вам. Пусть они побудут у Вас до востребования, а то у меня беречь их негде, да и боюсь растранжирить их. Простите, что я одолеваю Вас пустяками, но, погодите – скоро пробьет час, в онь же все праведные уедут за границу или в Феодосию, а грешные к генералу Кононовичу и аггелам его, и поручениям моим будет положен конец.
Can you really be going abroad? What address, then, shall I write to? That’s not good.
Неужели Вы в самом деле уедете за границу? По какому же адресу я буду писать Вам? Это нехорошо.
From the Society of Dramatic Writers I’ve received more than 600 rubles, for "Motley Stories" I haven’t yet received anything and will hardly ever get it, though I did give them an installment plan. I’ll get 200–300 rubles from "Severny Vestnik," and probably just as much, if not more, has piled up by now with your shopgirls for the little books. In short, if it weren’t for the trip to Sakhalin, I’d have spent this summer living so thoroughly that the devils themselves would be sick of it. But as luck would have it, every day brings more and more new acquaintances, more and more girls, and such girls that if you herded them all off to my dacha, the result would be a most merry mess fraught with consequences.
Из Общества драмат писателей я получил более 600 р., за "Пестрые рассказы" еще не получил и едва ли получу, хотя и дал им рассрочку. Получу из "Сев вест" 200–300 р., да вероятно уж за книжки у Ваших магазинных девиц скопилось столько же, если не больше. Короче говоря, если б не поездка на Сахалин, то я летом пожил бы так отчетливо, что чертям тошно было бы. А тут, как нарочно, каждый день всё новые и новые знакомства, всё больше девицы, да такие, что если б согнать их к себе на дачу, то получился бы превеселый и чреватый последствиями кавардак.
Medvedev, whose appointment to your theater the papers are writing about, is a good and intelligent man, a talented actor, but for a decent theater he is not intelligent enough and is sufficiently overgrown with provincial mold.
Медведев, о назначении которого к Вам в театр пишут в газетах, хороший и умный человек, талантливый актер, но для порядочного театра он недостаточно интеллигентен и достаточно покрыт провинциальной плесенью.
I don’t know what to do about Alexander. It’s not only that he drinks. That would be nothing, but he’s also hopelessly mired in a way of life in which it’s literally impossible not to drink. Between us: his wife drinks too. Bleak, foul, stormy weather... And this man, from the age of practically fourteen, was drawn to get married! And his whole life he’s occupied himself with nothing but getting married and swearing that he’ll never marry again.
Не знаю, что делать с Александром. Мало того, что он пьет. Это бы ничего, но он еще невылазно погряз в ту обстановку, в которой не пить буквально невозможно. Между нами: супруга его тоже пьет. Серо, скверно, ненастно... И этого человека чуть ли не с 14 лет тянуло жениться! И всю жизнь занимался только тем, что женился и клялся, что больше никогда не женится.
On Sakhalin there is a village called this: Khuy-e.
На Сахалине есть деревня, которая называется так: Хуй-э.
In Maslov’s play, as I’ve heard, Yermolova isn’t performing. I ought to go to the rehearsals, but there’s no time.
У Маслова в пьесе, как я слышал, не играет Ермолова. Надо бы сходить на репетиции, да некогда.
I read today in a telegram in "Russkiye Vedomosti" that Jack Vinogradov has become an ober-Jack. I can imagine how pleased his Yelizaveta Zakharovna is, she who allows him to sleep on the short sofa, and how many parenthetical remarks he must have made about his new appointment! He’s the kindest of men, and I wish him everything good from my heart.
Читал сегодня в телеграмме "Русских ведомостей", что Джек Виноградов стал обер-Джеком. Воображаю, как довольна его Елизавета Захаровна, позволяющая спать ему на коротком диване, и сколько вводных предложений сказал он по поводу своего нового назначения! Он добрейший человек, и я желаю ему от души всего хорошего.
Be happy.
Будьте счастливы.
Yours, A. Chekhov.
Did you get my story?
Получили мой рассказ?
My sister and her young lady friends are copying it out for me at the public library.
Сестра и ее барышни переписывают для меня в публичной библиотеке.

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To A. S. Suvorin, 17 March 1890. Moscow.

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