Letter · 1891

To A. S. Suvorin, 18 August 1891. Bogimovo.

А. С. СУВОРИНУ, 18 августа 1891 г. Богимово.

Headnote

A second letter of 18 August 1891 from Bogimovo to Chekhov’s publisher and close correspondent Aleksei Sergeyevich Suvorin: the opening line states explicitly that Chekhov had already sent Suvorin one letter that day along with his story, and is now writing "another, in answer to yours, just received" – i.e. a reply to a letter from Suvorin that arrived after the first was posted. Contents: dateline, short-form date, a defense of doctors against Suvorin’s charge that medical care is given without love or self-sacrifice, a conditional concession on a maxim about beatings and the lash, a wistful aside about piquet on the sand at Feodosia, a note on his brother’s medal and new Moscow post, a nighttime reflection on the exhausting composition of his just-finished story, a verdict on a story by Yezhov, a report of a scandal involving General Kononovich, news of the "astronomer-lady" now in Batum, closing regards, an anecdote about an injured peasant woman, travel plans, a valediction, and the signature.

Chekhov takes up Suvorin’s complaint – relayed via Suvorin’s own household nanny’s folk diagnosis, "the gut has burst" – that attendants on the sick (apparently occasioned by the household dog Nikolai’s illness) act without love or self-sacrifice, and defends doctors: even the most devoted physician is helpless before certain conditions, and the humiliation of standing by uselessly while a household exhausts itself in "every measure" is a private, recurring vileness particular to the medical trade, deserving of forgiveness. He half-concedes Suvorin’s harsher maxim about beatings and deserved lashes, provided Suvorin can first show the person in question has actually known happiness rather than already being ground down by fate. A brief, wistful note wonders whether Aleksei Alekseyevich Suvorin (Suvorin’s son, family circle) is at Feodosia and imagines a game of piquet on the beach. He reports his brother the schoolmaster – Ivan Pavlovich Chekhov, a teacher by profession – has received a medal and a post in Moscow, praising his stubborn, effective character. Chekhov then reflects, in a nighttime aside, on the difficulty of finishing the story he has just sent Suvorin (the same story discussed in), self-deprecatingly comparing his rushed, tangled composition to work done by "a rusted wire" rather than a brain, and asks that printing be held until autumn so he can correct proofs. He turns to literary business: a story by Nikolai Mikhailovich Yezhov, "The Torture," judged crude and unpolished but engaging, with its author making visible progress – then relays gossip that General Kononovich, the Sakhalin penal administrator Chekhov had met the previous year, has been summoned to Petersburg over a 400,000-ruble shortfall. News follows of Olga Kundasova, Chekhov’s recurring "astronomka" acquaintance, now in Batum and planning to forward her address once Chekhov confirms his own travel there; he praises her sharpened intelligence and describes a debate he witnessed between her and the zoologist Wagner, in which she outmatched him, tempered by a coarse aside about her lack of practical direction. The letter closes with regards to Suvorin’s household (Anna Ivanovna, Nastya, Borya, and Aleksei Alekseyevich), an anecdote about a peasant woman thrown from a cart and gravely injured who nonetheless frets over her neighbor’s threshing rather than her own survival, travel plans for 5 September, a valediction, and the signature.

18 August 1891. Bogimovo.
18 августа 1891 г. Богимово.
18 Aug.
18 авг.
Today, along with the story, I sent you one letter, and here is another, in answer to yours, just received. Speaking of Nikolai and the doctor who treated him, you insist that "all of it is done without love, without self-sacrifice even as regards one’s own small comforts." You’re right, speaking of people in general, but what are doctors to do? What, if it really is, as your nanny says, that "the gut has burst" – what’s to be done then, even if you wanted to give your own life for the patient? Usually, when the household, the relations, and the servants take "every measure" and climb out of their skins, the doctor sits and looks a fool, his hands dropped, gloomily ashamed of himself and of his science, trying to keep up an outward calm... Doctors have their vile days and hours, God spare anyone that. Among doctors, true, ignoramuses and boors are no rarity, as among writers, engineers, people in general – but those vile hours and days I speak of happen only to doctors, and for that, in all conscience, much ought to be forgiven them.
Сегодня вместе с рассказом я. послал Вам одно письмо, а вот Вам другое в ответ на Ваше, только что полученное. Говоря о Николае и лечившем его докторе, Вы упираете на то, что "всё это делается без любви, без самопожертвования даже относительно своих маленьких удобств". Вы правы, говоря это вообще о людях, но что прикажете делать врачам? Что, если в самом деле, как говорит ваша няня, "кишка лопнула", то что тут подеяешь, даже если захочешь жизнь свою отдать больному? Обыкновенно, когда домашние, родные и прислуга принимают "все меры" и из кожи лезут вон, доктор сидит и глядит дураком, опустив руки, уныло стыдясь за себя и за свою науку и стараясь сохранить наружное спокойствие... У врачей бывают отвратительные дни и часы, не дай бог никому этого. Среди врачей, правда, не редкость невежды и хамы, как и среди писателей, инженеров, вообще людей, но те отвратительные часы и дни, о которых я говорю, бывают только у врачей, и за сие, говоря по совести, многое простить должно.
As for "a man is not beaten about the head enough – he deserves the lash," I daresay I’m ready to agree with you, if you can prove that the man has hitherto been basking in bliss, and that he is not already beaten down and hammered into dullness by fate.
А что "человека мало колотят по голове – он заслуживает плетей", я, пожалуй, готов согласиться с Вами, если Вы докажете, что человек до сих пор наслаждался блаженством и что он не забит и не заколочен до отупения судьбой.
Aleksei Alekseyevich is in Feodosia? Ah, it would be good to play a hand of piquet on the sand!
Алексей Алексеевич в Феодосии? Ах, хорошо бы на песочке сыграть в пикет!
My brother the schoolmaster has been given a medal for zeal and a post in Moscow. He’s a stubborn man, in the good sense, and he’ll get what he wants. He’s not yet thirty, and in Moscow he’s already reckoned a model pedagogue.
Мой брат-учитель получил за усердие медаль и место в Москве. Это упрямый человек в хорошем смысле и добьется своего. Ему нет еще и 30 лет, а он в Москве считается уже образцовым педагогом.
I woke up last night and thought about my story, the one I sent you. While I was writing it, hurrying like the devil, everything got tangled in my head, and it wasn’t a brain working but a rusted wire. One oughtn’t to hurry – otherwise what comes out isn’t creation but dung. If you don’t reject the story, put off printing it till autumn, when I’ll be able to read the proofs.
Я сегодня ночью просыпался и думал о своей повести, которую послал Вам. Пока я писал ее и спешил чертовски, у меня в голове всё перепуталось и работал не мозг, а заржавленная проволока. Не следует торопиться, иначе выходит не творчество, а дерьмо. Если не забракуете рассказа, то отложите печатание до осени, когда можно будет прочесть корректуру.
Yezhov’s story "The Torture" is crude and utterly unpolished, but it reads with interest. The fellow is visibly making progress.
Рассказ Ежова "Пытка" груб и сплошная необразованщина, но читается с интересом. Малый заметно прогрессирует.
We are told: General Kononovich has been summoned to Petersburg for explanations over a shortfall of 400 thousand.
Нам пишут: ген Кононович вызван в Петербург для объяснений по поводу недочета в 400 тысяч.
The astronomer-lady is in Batum now. Since I told her that I too would come to Batum, she’ll send her address to Feodosia. Of late she’s grown even cleverer. I once listened to a learned dispute between her and the zoologist Wagner, whom you know. It seemed to me that next to her the learned master was a mere boy. She has good logic and plenty of sound sense, but there’s no rudder near her backside, so she sails on and on and doesn’t herself know whither.
Астрономка теперь в Батуме. Так как я сказал ей, что тоже приеду в Батум, то она пришлет в Феодосию свой адрес. В последнее время она еще умнее стала. Однажды я слушал ученый спор ее с зоологом Вагнером, которого Вы знаете. Мне показалось, что в сравнении с нею ученый магистр просто мальчишка. У нее логика хорошая и большой здравый смысл, но нет руля около задницы, так что она плывет, плывет и сама не знает куда.
Well, God send you all good things. Keep well. Give my regards to Anna Ivanovna, Nastya, Borya, and Aleksei Alekseyevich, if he hasn’t left yet.
Ну, пошли Вам господи всего хорошего. Будьте здоровы. Поклонитесь Анне Ивановне, Насте, Боре и Алексею Алексеевичу, если он еще не уехал.
A peasant woman was carting rye and fell off the cart headfirst. She was terribly hurt: concussion, a wrenched neck, vomiting, severe pains and so on. They brought her to me. She moans, groans, begs God for death, and all the while looks at the peasant who brought her and mutters: "Kirila, leave the lentils be, you’ll thresh them after – thresh the oats now." I tell her we’ll talk about the oats later, that there are more serious things to speak of now, and she says to me: "But his oats are ever so good!" A fussing, envious woman. It’s easy for such people to die.
Везла баба рожь и свалилась с воза вниз головой. Страшно разбилась: сотрясение мозга, вытяжение шейных позвонков, рвота, сильные боли и проч. Привезли ее ко мне. Она стонет, охает, просит у бога смерти, а сама глядит на мужика, который ее привез, и бормочет: "Ты, Кирила, брось чечевицу, после отмолотишь, а теперь овес молоти". Я ей говорю, что после об овсе, а теперь, мол, есть поговорить о чем посерьезнее, а она мне: "Овес-то у него очень хороший!" Хлопотливая, завидющая баба. Таким легко помирать.
I’ll leave for Moscow on the 5th of September. Need to look for a new apartment.
Я уеду в Москву 5-го сентября. Надо новую квартиру искать.
All good things!
Всего хорошего!

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To A. S. Suvorin, 18 August 1891. Bogimovo.

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