Complete Works of Anton Chekhov

Andreyev’s “Thought” is something pretentious, difficult to understand, and apparently no good, but it is worked out with talent. Andreyev has no simplicity, and his talent reminds me of an artificial nightingale. Skitalets now is a sparrow, but he is a real living sparrow….

TO S. P. DYAGILEV.

YALTA,

December 30, 1902.

… You write that we talked of a serious religious movement in Russia. We talked of a movement not in Russia but in the intellectual class. I won’t say anything about Russia; the intellectuals so far are only playing at religion, and for the most part from having nothing to do. One may say of the cultured part of our public that it has moved away from religion, and is moving further and further away from it, whatever people may say and however many philosophical and religious societies may be formed. Whether it is a good or a bad thing I cannot undertake to decide; I will only say that the religious movement of which you write is one thing, and the whole trend of modern culture is another, and one cannot place the second in any causal connection with the first. Modern culture is only the first beginning of work for a great future, work which will perhaps go on for tens of thousands of years, in order that man may if only in the remote future come to know the truth of the real God — that is not, I conjecture, by seeking in Dostoevsky, but by clear knowledge, as one knows twice two are four. Modern culture is the first beginning of the work, while the religious movement of which we talked is a survival, almost the end of what has ceased, or is ceasing to exist. But it is a long story, one can’t put it all into a letter….

TO A. S. SUVORIN.

MOSCOW,

June 29, 1903.

… One feels a warm sympathy, of course, for Gorky’s letter about the Kishinev pogrom, as one does for everything he writes; the letter is not written though, but put together, there is neither youthfulness in it nor confidence, like Tolstoy’s.

* * * * *

July 1, 1903.

You are reading belles-lettres now, so read Veresaev’s stories. Begin with a little story in the second volume called “Lizar.” I think you will be very much pleased with it. Veresaev is a doctor; I have got to know him lately. He makes a very good impression….

TO S. P. DYAGILEV.

YALTA,

July 12, 1903.

… I have been thinking over your letter for a long time, and alluring as your suggestion or offer is, yet in the end I must answer it as neither you nor I would wish.

I cannot be the editor of The World of Art, as I cannot live in Petersburg, … that’s the first point. And the second is that just as a picture must be painted by one artist and a speech delivered by one orator, so a magazine must be edited by one man. Of course I am not a critic, and I dare say I shouldn’t make a very good job of the reviews; but on the other hand, how could I get on in the same boat with Merezhkovsky, who definitely believes, didactically believes, while I lost my faith years ago and can only look with perplexity at any “intellectual” who does believe? I respect Merezhkovsky, and think highly of him both as a man and as a writer, but we should be pulling in opposite directions….

Don’t be cross with me, dear Sergey Pavlovitch: it seems to me that if you go on editing the magazine for another five years you will come to agree with me. A magazine, like a picture or a poem, must bear the stamp of one personality and one will must be felt in it. This has been hitherto the case in the World of Art, and it was a good thing. And it must be kept up….

TO K. S. STANISLAVSKY.

YALTA,

July 28, 1903.

… My play “The Cherry Orchard” is not yet finished; it makes slow progress, which I put down to laziness, fine weather, and the difficulty of the subject….

I think your part [Translator’s Note: Stanislavsky acted Lopahin.] is all right, though I can’t undertake to decide, as I can judge very little of a play by reading it….

TO MADAME STANISLAVSKY.

YALTA,

September 15, 1903.

… Don’t believe anybody — no living soul has read my play yet; I have written for you not the part of a “canting hypocrite,” but of a very nice girl, with which you will, I hope, be satisfied. I have almost finished the play, but eight or ten days ago I was taken ill, with coughing and weakness — in fact, last year’s business over again. Now — that is to-day — it is warmer and I feel better, but still I cannot write, as my head is aching. Olga will not bring the play; I will send the four acts together as soon as it is possible for me to set to work for a whole day. It has turned out not a drama, but a comedy, in parts a farce, indeed, and I am afraid I shall catch it from Vladimir Ivanitch [Footnote: Nemirovitch Dantchenko.]….