All this is nonsense, though. Write whatever you like. If you haven't the facts, substitute lyricism.
Keep well and happy. My regards to your little daughters.
Yours,
A. Chekhov
March j, 1892, Moscow
. . . Every day I find out something new. What a terrible thing it is to have business with liars! The artist who sold me the property lies and lies and lies—needlessly, stupidly, and the upshot is a series of daily disillusionments. Every moment I expect him to put over another swindle and so I am continually exasperated. \Ve are accustomed to assuming that only mer- chants cheat in measuring and weighing, but people should have a good look at our upper class! They are an odious spec- tacle. They are not people but ordinary kulaks, even worse than kulaks, for a peasant-kulak goes ahead and does some work himself, while my artist just goes around guzzling liquor and swearing at the servants. Just imagine, from as far back as last summer his horses haven't seen a single grain of oats, or a wisp of hay, but have lived off straw exclusively, although they work hard enough for ten. The cow doesn't give any milk because she is starving. His wife and mistress live under the same roof. The children are dirty and ragged. There is a stench of cats. Bedbugs and enormous cockroaches abound. The artist pretends he is de- voted to me heart and soul and at the same time gives the peasants lessons in the art of cheating. Since is is difficult to judge even ap- proximately where my fields and woodlands reach to, the peasants had been coached to point out for my benefit an extensive stand of woods which actually belongs to the church. But they refused to do as they were told. On the whole I am involved in a lot of tommyrot and vulgarity. It is disgusting to realize that all this hungry and filthy riffraff thinks that I, too, tremble for the sake of a kopek just as it does, and that I too don't mind putting over crooked deals. The peasants are downtrodden, frightened and worried. I am sending you a circular on the estates and am going to conduct an enquiry on the spot. . . .
You want to build a theatre, while I want terribly to go to Venice and write . . . a play. How glad I am I'm not going to have an apartment in Moscow! This is a sort of comfort I have never had the pleasure of enjoying before.
How is Alexei Alexeyevich's health? I don't understand why he had to take showers.
All the best!
Your A. Chekhov
To LYDIA AVILOVA
March 19,1892, Melikhovo
Dear Lydia A lexeyevna,
... I read your "Along the Way." If I were the editor of an illustrated magazine I would publish this story with great pleasure. Only here is the advice of this particular reader: when you portray miserable wretches and unlucky people and want to stir the reader to compassion, try to be cooler—to give their sorrow a background, as it were, against which it can stand out in sharper relief. The way it is, the characters weep and you sigh. Yes, you must be cold.
But don't listen to me, as I am a poor critic. I don't have the ability to formulate my critical ideas clearly. Sometimes I just talk frightful nonsense. . . .
Your letter distressed and bewildered me. You mention cer- tain "strange things" that I seem to have said at Leikin's, then you beg me in the name of respect for womankind not to speak of you "in that spirit" and finally you even say "for having been trustful just this once, I can find my name dragged into the mud ..." \Vhat is this dreaming of yours all about? Mud—and me! ... My self-esteem will not permit me to justify myself: more- over, your accusations are too vague to allow me to decide on what grounds I can defend myself. As far as I can judge, it is a question of gossip, isn't it? I earnestly implore you (if you trust me no less than you do the gossips), do not believe all the nasty things people say in your St. Petersburg. Or, if you find it impossible not to believe these rumors, then don't swallow them plain, but with a pinch of salt; both as to my marriage to some- one with five millions and my affairs with the wives of my best friends, etc. Calm down, for heaven's sake. If I don't sound convincing enough, have a talk with Yasinski, who was with me at Leikin's after the jubilee. I recall that both of us, he and I, spoke at some length of what fine people you and your sister were. . . . We both were somewhat high after the jubilee, but even if I were as drunk as a sailor or had lost my mind, I would not have lowered myself to "that spirit" or "mud" (didn't your arm wither as you spelled out that little word!) as I would be re- strained by my usual decency and devotion to my mother, sister and women in general. Imagine speaking ill of you and especially in Leikin's presence!
However, I wash my hands of the business. Defending one- self against gossip is like begging for a loan from [. . .]: useless. Think as you wish about me. . . .
I am living in the country. I throw snow into the brook and with satisfaction ponder upon my decision—nevermore to visit St. Petersburg.
My best wishes.
Your sincerely devoted and respectful,
A. Chekhov
To PYOTR BYKOV
May 4, 1892, Melikhovo
Dear Pyotr Vasilievich,
Ieronym Ieronymich wrote me that you are on very friendly terms with the editors of "World-Wide Illustration." If you have the opportunity would you be good enough to inform thcm that the announcemcnt in which they praise me as "highly giftcd," and the title of my story which they print in letters as big as a signboard, havc produced a most unpleasant impression on me. The announcement resembles the advcrtisement of a dentist or masseur and in any case is lacking in taste. I realize the value of publicity and am not opposed to it, but for a man of letters, modesty and the literary approach in dealing with readers and colleagues alike constitute the very finest and most infallible publicity. On the whole I have had no luck with "World-\Vide Illustration": I requested an advance and am regaled with publicity. They didn't send the advance—all right, that's bad enough, but they should have had mercy on my literary reputation. This, my first letter to you, is a peevish one and is bound to irk you. Forgive me.
I beg you earnestly to excuse me and to believe that I have turned to you with a complaint only because I hold you in the sincerest esteem.
A. Chekhov
To ALEXEI SUVORIN
August /892, Melikhovo My letters chase after you, but you are elusive. I have written often, and to St. Moritz, by the way. Judging by your letters, you haven't had anything from me. To start with, cholera is raging in and near Moscow, and will reach our area any day now. In the second place, I have been appointed cholera doctor, and my section includes twenty-five villages, four factories and one monastery. I organize, put up barracks, etc., and feel like a lonely soul, as everything connected with cholera is alien to my nature, and the work, which requires me to take trips con- tinually, deliver talks and attend to petty details, is exhausting. There is no time for writing. Literature has long ago been cast aside, and I am poverty-stricken and wretched, as I found it proper, in the interests of independence, to turn down the com- pensation that section doctors usually receive. I am bored, yet there is a great deal that is interesting in cholera, looking at it objectively. It's a pity you are not in Russia. Material for those short letters of yours is falling by the wayside. The situa- tion is more good than bad, and in this respect cholera differs sharply from famine. . . . Everybody is at work now, and work- ing feverishly. At the Nizhni Fair miracles are performed which may cause even Tolstoy to adopt a more respectful attitude to- ward medicine and toward the general participation of educated people in life. It looks as if a lasso had been thrown over cholera. The number of cases has not only been lowered, but the percentage of mortality as well. In a huge place like Moscow it won't go beyond fifty cases a week, though on the Don it will fasten upon thousands every day—an imposing difference. "\Ve country doctors are ready: we have a definite program of action and perhaps we will lower the percentage of fatalities from cholera in our districts.