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Letters of Anton Chekhov (Tchekhov) - Penn State University

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<strong>Letters</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Anton</strong> <strong>Chekhov</strong> to His Family and Friends with biographical sketchMOSCOW, October 19, 1891.What a splendid little letter has come from you! It is warmly andeloquently written, and every thought in it is true. To talk now <strong>of</strong>laziness and drunkenness, and so on, is as strange and tactless as tolecture a man on the conduct <strong>of</strong> life at a moment when he is beingsick or lying ill <strong>of</strong> typhus. There is always a certain element <strong>of</strong> insolencein being well-fed, as in every kind <strong>of</strong> force, and that elementfinds expression chiefly in the well-fed man preaching to the hungry.If consolation is revolting at a time <strong>of</strong> real sorrow, what must bethe effect <strong>of</strong> preaching morality; and how stupid and insulting thatpreaching must seem. These moral people imagine that if a man isfifteen roubles in arrears with his taxes he must be a wastrel, andought not to drink; but they ought to reckon up how much statesare in debt, and prime ministers, and what the debts <strong>of</strong> all the marshals<strong>of</strong> nobility and all the bishops taken together come to. Whatdo the Guards owe! Only their tailors could tell us that ….You have told them to send me four hundred? Vivat dominusSuvorin! So I have already received from your firm 400 + 100 +400. Altogether I shall get for “The Duel” as I calculated, aboutfourteen hundred, so five hundred will go towards my debt. Well,and for that thank God! By the spring I must pay <strong>of</strong>f all my debt orI shall go into a decline, for in the spring I want another advancefrom all my editors. I shall take it and escape to Java ….Ah, my friends, how bored I am! If I am a doctor I ought to havepatients and a hospital; if I am a literary man I ought to live amongpeople instead <strong>of</strong> in a flat with a mongoose, I ought to have at leasta scrap <strong>of</strong> social and political life—but this life between four walls,without nature, without people, without a country, without healthand appetite, is not life, but some sort <strong>of</strong> … and nothing more.For the sake <strong>of</strong> all the perch and pike you are going to catch onyour Zaraish estate, I entreat you to publish the English humoristBernard.* …*Translator’s Note: ? Bernard Shaw.270

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