Letters of Anton Chekhov (Tchekhov) - Penn State University

Anton ChekhovTO I. L. SHTCHEGLOV.MOSCOW, March 22, 1890.My greetings, dear Jean! Thanks for your long letter and for thegood will of which it is full from beginning to end. I shall be delightedto read your military story. Will it come out in the Easternumber? It is a long time since I read anything of yours or my own.You say that you want to give me a harsh scolding “especially on thescore of morality and art,” you speak vaguely of my crimes as deservingfriendly censure, and threaten me with “an influential newspapercriticism.” If you scratch out the word “art,” the whole phrasein quotation marks becomes clearer, but gains a significance which,to tell the truth, perplexes me not a little. Jean, what is it? How isone to understand it? Can I really be different in my ideas of moralityfrom people like you, and so much so as to deserve censure andeven an influential article? I cannot take it that you mean somesubtle higher morality, as there are no lower, higher, or mediummoralities, but only one which Jesus Christ gave us, and which nowprevents you and me and Barantsevitch from stealing, insulting,lying, and so on. If I can trust the ease of my conscience, I havenever by word or deed, in thought, or in my stories, or in my farces,coveted my neighbour’s wife, nor his man, nor his ox, nor any of hiscattle, I have not stolen, nor been a hypocrite, I have not flatteredthe great nor sought their favour, I have not blackmailed, nor livedat other people’s expense. It is true I have waxed wanton and slothful,have laughed heedlessly, have eaten too much and drunk toomuch and been profligate. But all that is a personal matter, and allthat does not deprive me of the right to think that, as far as moralsare concerned, I am nothing out of the ordinary, one way or theother. Nothing heroic and nothing scoundrelly—I am just like everyoneelse; I have many sins, but I am quits with morality, as I payfor those sins with interest in the discomforts they bring with them.If you want to abuse me cruelly because I am not a hero, you’dbetter throw your cruelty out of the window, and instead of abuse,let me hear your charming tragic laugh—that’s better.But of the word “art” I am terrified, as merchants’ wives are terri-129