tinually in the newspapers and on men’s lips! If you are not
“How can you tell? Perhaps you are celebrated.” tired of listening I will illustrate it by an example. Some years
“H’m! Well, we will test it at once. Tell me, have you ever ago I built a bridge in the town of K. I must tell you that the heard the name Krikunov?”
dullness of that scurvy little town was terrible. If it had not The vis-a-vis raised his eyes to the ceiling, thought a minute, been for women and cards I believe I should have gone out of and laughed.
my mind. Well, it’s an old story: I was so bored that I got
“No, I haven’t heard it, …” he said.
into an affair with a singer. Everyone was enthusiastic about
“That is my surname. You, a man of education, getting on her, the devil only knows why; to my thinking she was —
in years, have never heard of me — a convincing proof! It is what shall I say? — an ordinary, commonplace creature, like evident that in my efforts to gain fame I have not done the lots of others. The hussy was empty-headed, ill-tempered, right thing at all: I did not know the right way to set to work, greedy, and what’s more, she was a fool.
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“She ate and drank a vast amount, slept till five o clock in Its an old story and there’s no need for false modesty, and so I the afternoon — and I fancy did nothing else. She was looked will tell you that my bridge was a magnificent work! It was upon as a cocotte, and that was indeed her profession; but not a bridge but a picture, a perfect delight! And who would when people wanted to refer to her in a literary fashion, they not have been excited when the whole town came to the open-called her an actress and a singer. I used to be devoted to the ing? ‘Oh,’ I thought, ‘now the eyes of all the public will be on theatre, and therefore this fraudulent pretense of being an ac-me! Where shall I hide myself?’ Well, I need not have worried tress made me furiously indignant. My young lady had not myself, sir — alas! Except the official personages, no one took the slightest right to call herself an actress or a singer. She was the slightest notice of me. They stood in a crowd on the river-a creature entirely devoid of talent, devoid of feeling — a bank, gazed like sheep at the bridge, and did not concern them-pitiful creature one may say. As far as I can judge she sang selves to know who had built it. And it was from that time, disgustingly. The whole charm of her ‘art’ lay in her kicking by the way, that I began to hate our estimable public — dam-up her legs on every suitable occasion, and not being embar-nation take them! Well, to continue. All at once the public rassed when people walked into her dressing-room. She usu-became agitated; a whisper ran through the crowd, … a smile ally selected translated vaudevilles, with singing in them, and came on their faces, their shoulders began to move. ‘They opportunities for disporting herself in male attire, in tights.
must have seen me,’ I thought. A likely idea! I looked, and In fact it was — ough! Well, I ask your attention. As I re-my singer, with a train of young scamps, was making her way member now, a public ceremony took place to celebrate the through the crowd. The eyes of the crowd were hurriedly opening of the newly constructed bridge. There was a reli-following this procession. A whisper began in a thousand gious service, there were speeches, telegrams, and so on. I hung voices: ‘That’s so-and-so… . Charming! Bewitching!’ Then about my cherished creation, you know, all the while afraid it was they noticed me… . A couple of young milksops, local that my heart would burst with the excitement of an author.
amateurs of the scenic art, I presume, looked at me, exchanged 102
The Schoolmistress and other stories glances, and whispered: ‘That’s her lover!’ How do you like almost exclusively by the newspapers. The day after the dedi-that? And an unprepossessing individual in a top-hat, with a cation of the bridge, I greedily snatched up the local _Mes-chin that badly needed shaving, hung round me, shifting from senger,_ and looked for myself in it. I spent a long time run-one foot to the other, then turned to me with the words: ning my eyes over all the four pages, and at last there it was —
“‘Do you know who that lady is, walking on the other bank?
hurrah! I began reading: ‘Yesterday in beautiful weather, be-That’s so-and-so… . Her voice is beneath all criticism, but fore a vast concourse of people, in the presence of His Excel-she has a most perfect mastery of it! …’
lency the Governor of the province, so-and-so, and other dig-
“ ‘Can you tell me,’ I asked the unprepossessing individual, nitaries, the ceremony of the dedication of the newly con-
‘who built this bridge?’
structed bridge took place,’ and so on… . Towards the end:
“ ‘I really don’t know,’ answered the individual; some engi-Our talented actress so-and-so, the favorite of the K. public, neer, I expect.’
was present at the dedication looking very beautiful. I need
“ ‘And who built the cathedral in your town?’ I asked again.
not say that her arrival created a sensation. The star was wear-
“ ‘I really can’t tell you.’
ing …’ and so on. They might have given me one word! Half
“Then I asked him who was considered the best teacher in a word. Petty as it seems, I actually cried with vexation!
K., who the best architect, and to all my questions the unpre-
“I consoled myself with the reflection that the provinces are possessing individual answered that he did not know.
stupid, and one could expect nothing of them and for celeb-
“ ‘And tell me, please,’ I asked in conclusion, with whom is rity one must go to the intellectual centers — to Petersburg that singer living?’
and to Moscow. And as it happened, at that very time there
“ ‘With some engineer called Krikunov.’
was a work of mine in Petersburg which I had sent in for a
“Well, how do you like that, sir? But to proceed. There are competition. The date on which the result was to be declared no minnesingers or bards nowadays, and celebrity is created was at hand.
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“I took leave of K. and went to Petersburg. It is a long so.’ That was all! And to make things better, they even misspelt journey from K. to Petersburg, and that I might not be bored my name: instead of Krikunov it was Kirkutlov. So much for on the journey I took a reserved compartment and — well your intellectual center! But that was not all… . By the time
— of course, I took my singer. We set off, and all the way we I left Petersburg, a month later, all the newspapers were vying were eating, drinking champagne, and — tra-la—la! But be-with one another in discussing our incomparable, divine, hold, at last we reach the intellectual center. I arrived on the highly talented actress, and my mistress was referred to, not very day the result was declared, and had the satisfaction, my by her surname, but by her Christian name and her father’s… .
dear sir, of celebrating my own success: my work received the
“Some years later I was in Moscow. I was summoned there first prize. Hurrah! Next day I went out along the Nevsky by a letter, in the mayor’s own handwriting, to undertake a and spent seventy kopecks on various newspapers. I hastened work for which Moscow, in its newspapers, had been clam-to my hotel room, lay down on the sofa, and, controlling a oring for over a hundred years. In the intervals of my work I quiver of excitement, made haste to read. I ran through one delivered five public lectures, with a philanthropic object, in newspaper — nothing. I ran through a second — nothing one of the museums there. One would have thought that was either; my God! At last, in the fourth, I lighted upon the enough to make one known to the whole town for three days following paragraph: ‘Yesterday the well-known provincial at least, wouldn’t one? But, alas! not a single Moscow gazette actress so-and-so arrived by express in Petersburg. We note said a word about me There was something about houses on with pleasure that the climate of the South has had a benefi-fire, about an operetta, sleeping town councilors, dr unken cial effect on our fair friend; her charming stage appearance…’
shop keepers — about everything; but about my work, my and I don’t remember the rest! Much lower down than that plans, my lectures — mum. And a nice set they are in Mos-paragraph I found, printed in the smallest type: first prize in cow! I got into a tram… . It was packed full; there were ladies the competition was adjudged to an engineer called so-and-and military men and students of both sexes, creatures of all 104
The Schoolmistress and other stories sorts in couples.
“I could give you ever so many other examples, but I think
“‘I am told the town council has sent for an engineer to that is enough. Now let us assume that I am mistaken about plan such and such a work!’ I said to my neighbor, so loudly myself, that I am a wretchedly boastful and incompetent per-that all the tram could hear. ‘Do you know the name of the son; but apart from myself I might point to many of my engineer?’
contemporaries, men remarkable for their talent and indus-
“My neighbor shook his head. The rest of the public took a try, who have nevertheless died unrecognized. Are Russian cursory glance at me, and in all their eyes I read: ‘I don’t know.’
navigators, chemists, physicists, mechanicians, and agricultur-
“‘I am told that there is someone giving lectures in such and ists popular with the public? Do our cultivated masses know such a museum?’ I persisted, trying to get up a conversation.
anything of Russian artists, sculptors, and literary men? Some
‘I hear it is interesting.’
old literary hack, hard-working and talented, will wear away
“No one even nodded. Evidently they had not all of them the doorstep of the publishers’ offices for thirty-three years, heard of the lectures, and the ladies were not even aware of cover reams of paper, be had up for libel twenty times, and the existence of the museum. All that would not have mat-yet not step beyond his ant-heap. Can you mention to me a tered, but imagine, my dear sir, the people suddenly leaped to single representative of our literature who would have become their feet and struggled to the windows. What was it? What celebrated if the rumor had not been spread over the earth was the matter?
that he had been killed in a duel, gone out of his mind, been
“‘Look, look!’ my neighbor nudged me. ‘Do you see that sent into exile, or had cheated at cards?” dark man getting into that cab? That’s the famous runner, The first-class passenger was so excited that he dropped his King!’
cigar out of his mouth and got up.
“And the whole tram began talking breathlessly of the run-
“Yes,” he went on fiercely, “and side by side with these people ner who was then absorbing the brains of Moscow.
I can quote you hundreds of all sorts of singers, acrobats, buf-105
Anton Chekhov
foons, whose names are known to every baby. Yes!” five years, … a member of the Academy of Sciences, … have The door creaked, there was a draught, and an individual of published more than one work… .”
forbidding aspect, wearing an Inverness coat, a top-hat, and The first-class passenger and the _vis-a-vis_ looked at each blue spectacles, walked into the carriage. The individual looked other and burst out laughing.
round at the seats, frowned, and went on further.
“Do you know who that is?” there came a timid whisper from the furthest corner of the compartment.
That is N. N., the famous Tula cardsharper who was had up in connection with the Y. bank affair.”
“There you are!” laughed the first-class passenger. He knows a Tula cardsharper, but ask him whether he knows Semiradsky, Tchaykovsky, or Solovyov the philosopher — he’ll shake his head… . It swinish!”
Three minutes passed in silence.
“Allow me in my turn to ask you a question,” said the _vis-a-vis_ timidly, clearing his throat. Do you know the name of Pushkov?”
“Pushkov? H’m! Pushkov… . No, I don’t know it!”
“That is my name,…” said the _vis-a-vis,_, overcome with embarrassment. “Then you don’t know it? And yet I have been a professor at one of the Russian universities for thirty-106
The Schoolmistress and other stories A TRAGIC ACTOR
full of tears, her cheeks turned paler and paler. And no wonder — she was at the theatre for the first time in her life.
IT WAS THE BENEFIT NIGHT of Fenogenov, the tragic actor. They
“How well they act! how splendidly!” she said to her papa were acting “Prince Serebryany.” The tragedian himself was the police captain, every time the curtain fell. How good playing Vyazemsky; Limonadov, the stage manager, was play-Fenogenov is!”
ing Morozov; Madame Beobahtov, Elena. The performance And if her papa had been capable of reading faces he would was a grand success. The tragedian accomplished wonders in-have read on his daughter’s pale little countenance a rapture deed. When he was carrying off Elena, he held her in one that was almost anguish. She was overcome by the acting, by hand above his head as he dashed across the stage. He shouted, the play, by the surroundings. When the regimental band be-hissed, banged with his feet, tore his coat across his chest.
gan playing between the acts, she closed her eyes, exhausted.
When he refused to fight Morozov, he trembled all over as
“Papa!” she said to the police captain during the last interval, nobody ever trembles in reality, and gasped loudly. The the-
“go behind the scenes and ask them all to dinner to-morrow!” atre shook with applause. There were endless calls. Fenogenov The police captain went behind the scenes, praised them was presented with a silver cigarette-case and a bouquet tied for all their fine acting, and complimented Madame with long ribbons. The ladies waved their handkerchiefs and Beobahtov.
urged their men to applaud, many shed tears… . But the one
“Your lovely face demands a canvas, and I only wish I could who was the most enthusiastic and most excited was Masha, wield the brush!”
daughter of Sidoretsky the police captain. She was sitting in And with a scrape, he thereupon invited the company to the first row of the stalls beside her papa; she was ecstatic and dinner.
could not take her eyes off the stage even between the acts.
“All except the fair sex,” he whispered. “I don’t want the Her delicate little hands and feet were quivering, her eyes were actresses, for I have a daughter.”
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Anton Chekhov
Next day the actors dined at the police captain’s. Only three dinner or supper. Masha became more and more devoted to turned up, the manager Limonadov, the tragedian Fenogenov, the theatre, and went there every evening.
and the comic man Vodolazov; the others sent excuses. The She fell in love with the tragedian. One fine morning, when dinner was a dull affair. Limonadov kept telling the police the police captain had gone to meet the bishop, Masha ran captain how much he respected him, and how highly he away with Limonadov’s company and married her hero on thought of all persons in authority; Vodolazov mimicked the way. After celebrating the wedding, the actors composed drunken merchants and Armenians; and Fenogenov (on his a long and touching letter and sent it to the police captain.
passport his name was Knish), a tall, stout Little Russian with It was the work of their combined efforts.
black eyes and frowning brow, declaimed “At the portals of
“Bring out the motive, the motive!” Limonadov kept say-the great,” and “To be or not to be.” Limonadov, with tears ing as he dictated to the comic man. “Lay on the respect… .
in his eyes, described his interview with the former Governor, These official chaps like it. Add something of a sort … to General Kanyutchin. The police captain listened, was bored, draw a tear.”
and smiled affably. He was well satisfied, although Limonadov The answer to this letter was most discomforting. The po-smelt strongly of burnt feathers, and Fenogenov was wearing lice captain disowned his daughter for marrying, as he said, “a a hired dress coat and boots trodden down at heel. They pleased stupid, idle Little Russian with no fixed home or occupation.” his daughter and made her lively, and that was enough for And the day after this answer was received M asha was writ-him. And Masha never took her eyes off the actors. She had ing to her father.
never before seen such clever, exceptional people!
“Papa, he beats me! Forgive us!”
In the evening the police captain and Masha were at the He had beaten her, beaten her behind the scenes, in the pres-theatre again. A week later the actors dined at the police ence of Limonadov, the washerwoman, and two lighting men.
captain’s again, and after that came almost every day either to He remembered how, four days before the wedding, he was 108
The Schoolmistress and other stories sitting in the London Tavern with the whole company, and They listened to her entreaties, and after consulting together, all were talking about Masha. The company were advising took her into the company as a “countess” — the name they him to “chance it,” and Limonadov, with tears in his eyes used for the minor actresses who usually came on to the stage urged: “It would be stupid and irrational to let slip such an in crowds or in dumb parts. To begin with Masha used to opportunity! Why, for a sum like that one would go to Sibe-play maid-servants and pages, but when Madame Beobahtov, ria, let alone getting married! When you marry and have a the flower of Limonadov’s company, eloped, they made her theatre of your own, take me into your company. I shan’t be _ingenue_. She acted badly, lisped, and was nervous. She soon master then, you’ll be master.”
grew used to it, however, and began to be liked by the audi-Fenogenov remembered it, and muttered with clenched fists: ence. Fenogenov was much displeased.
“If he doesn’t send money I’ll smash her! I won’t let myself
“To call her an actress!” he used to say. “She has no figure, be made a fool of, damn my soul!”
no deportment, nothing whatever but silliness.” At one provincial town the company tried to give Masha In one provincial town the company acted Schiller’s “ Rob-the slip, but Masha found out, ran to the station, and got bers.” Fenogenov played Franz, Masha, Amalie. The trage-there when the second bell had rung and the actors had all dian shouted and quivered. Masha repeated her part like a taken their seats.
well-learnt lesson, and the play would have gone off as they
“I’ve been shamefully treated by your father,” said the trage-generally did had it not been for a trifling mishap. Everything dian; “all is over between us!”
went well up to the point where Franz declares his love for And though the carriage was full of people, she went down Amalie and she seizes his sword. The tragedian shouted, hissed, on her knees and held out her hands, imploring him: quivered, and squeezed Masha in his iron embrace. And Masha,
“I love you! Don’t drive me away, Kondraty Ivanovitch,” instead of repulsing him and crying “Hence! “ trembled in his she besought him. “I can’t live without you!” arms like a bird and did not move, …she seemed petrified.
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Anton Chekhov
“Have pity on me!” she whispered in his ear. “Oh, have pity A TRANSGRESSION
on me! I am so miserable!”
“You don’t know your part! Listen to the prompter!” hissed A COLLEGIATE ASSESSOR called Miguev stopped at a telegraph-the tragedian, and he thrust his sword into her hand.
post in the course of his evening walk and heaved a deep sigh.
After the performance, Limonadov and Fenogenov were A week before, as he was returning home from his evening sitting in the ticket box-office engaged in conversation.
walk, he had been overtaken at that very spot by his former
“Your wife does not learn her part, you are right there,” the housemaid, Agnia, who said to him viciously: manager was saying. “She doesn’t know her line… . Every
“Wait a bit! I’ll cook you such a crab that’ll teach you to man has his own line, … but she doesn’t know hers… .” ruin innocent girls! I’ll leave the baby at your door, and I’ll Fenogenov listened, sighed, and scowled and scowled.
have the law of you, and I’ll tell your wife, too… .” Next morning, Masha was sitting in a little general shop And she demanded that he should put five thousand roubles writing:
into the bank in her name. Miguev remembered it, heaved a
“Papa, he beats me! Forgive us! Send us some money!” sigh, and once more reproached himself with heartfelt repentance for the momentary infatuation which had caused him so much worry and misery.
When he reached his bungalow, he sat down to rest on the doorstep. It was just ten o’clock, and a bit of the moon peeped out from behind the clouds. There was not a soul in the street nor near the bungalows; elderly summer visitors were already going to bed, while young ones were walking in the wood.
Feeling in both his pockets for a match to light his cigarette, 110
The Schoolmistress and other stories Miguev brought his elbow into contact with something soft.
their doors to him. Such incidents always get into the papers, He looked idly at his right elbow, and his face was instantly and the humble name of Miguev would be published all over contorted by a look of as much horror as though he had seen Russia… .
a snake beside him. On the step at the very door lay a bundle.
The middle window of the bungalow was open and he could Something oblong in shape was wrapped up in something —
distinctly hear his wife, Anna Filippovna, laying the table for judging by the feel of it, a wadded quilt. One end of the supper; in the yard close to the gate Yermolay, the porter, was bundle was a little open, and the collegiate assessor, putting plaintively strumming on the balalaika. The baby had only in his hand, felt something damp and warm. He leaped on to to wake up and begin to cry, and the secret would be discov-his feet in horror, and looked about him like a criminal try-ered. Miguev was conscious of an overwhelming desire to ing to escape from his warders… .
make haste.
“She has left it!” he muttered wrathfully through his teeth,
“Haste, haste! …” he muttered, “this minute, before any-clenching his fists. “Here it lies… . Here lies my transgres-one sees. I’ll carry it away and lay it on somebody’s door-sion! O Lord!”
step… .”
He was numb with terror, anger, and shame… What was Miguev took the bundle in one hand and quietly, with a he to do now? What would his wife say if she found out?
deliberate step to avoid awakening suspicion, went down the What would his colleagues at the office say? His Excellency street… .
would be sure to dig him in the ribs, guffaw, and say: “I con-
“A wonderfully nasty position!” he reflected, trying to as-gratulate you! … He-he-he! Though your beard is gray, your sume an air of unconcern. “A collegiate assessor walking down heart is gay… . You are a rogue, Semyon Erastovitch!” The the street with a baby! Good heavens! if anyone sees me and whole colony of summer visitors would know his secret now, understands the position, I am done for… . I’d better put it and probably the respectable mothers of families would shut on this doorstep… . No, stay, the windows are open and per-111
Anton Chekhov
haps someone is looking. Where shall I put it? I know! I’ll
“How mean it is really!” he thought. “So mean that one take it to the merchant Myelkin’s.. .. Merchants are rich people can’t imagine anything meaner… . Why are we shifting this and tenderhearted; very likely they will say thank you and poor baby from door to door? It’s not its fault that it’s been adopt it.”
born. It’s done us no harm. We are scoundrels… . We take And Miguev made up his mind to take the baby to our pleasure, and the innocent babies have to pay the penalty.
Myelkin’s, although the merchant’s villa was in the furthest Only to think of all this wretched business! I’ve done wrong street, close to the river.
and the child has a cruel fate before it. If I lay it at the Myelkins’
“If only it does not begin screaming or wriggle out of the door, they’ll send it to the foundling hospital, and there it bundle,” thought the collegiate assessor. “This is indeed a pleas-will grow up among strangers, in mechanical routine, … no ant surprise! Here I am carrying a human being under my love, no petting, no spoiling… . And then he’ll be appren-arm as though it were a portfolio. A human being, alive, with ticed to a shoemaker, … he’ll take to drink, will learn to use soul, with feelings like anyone else… . If by good luck the filthy language, will go hungry. A shoemaker! and he the son Myelkins adopt him, he may turn out somebody… . Maybe of a collegiate assessor, of good family… . He is my flesh and he will become a professor, a great general, an author… .
blood, … “
Anything may happen! Now I am carrying him under my Miguev came out of the shade of the lime trees into the arm like a bundle of rubbish, and perhaps in thirty or forty bright moonlight of the open road, and opening the bundle, years I may not dare to sit down in his presence… .
he looked at the baby.
As Miguev was walking along a narrow, deserted alley, be-
“Asleep!” he murmured. “You little rascal! why, you’ve an aq-side a long row of fences, in the thick black shade of the lime uiline nose like your father’s… . He sleeps and doesn’t feel that trees, it suddenly struck him that he was doing something it’s his own father looking at him! … It’s a drama, my boy…
very cruel and criminal.
Well, well, you must forgive me. Forgive me, old boy… . It 112
The Schoolmistress and other stories seems it’s your fate… .”
randah step and waved his hand. Again he felt a spasm run The collegiate assessor blinked and felt a spasm running over his face… .
down his cheeks… . He wrapped up the baby, put him under
“Forgive me, old fellow! I am a scoundrel, he muttered.
his arm, and strode on. All the way to the Myelkins’ villa
“Don’t remember evil against me.”
social questions were swarming in his brain and conscience He stepped back, but immediately cleared his throat reso-was gnawing in his bosom.
lutely and said:
“If I were a decent, honest man, he thought, “I should damn
“Oh, come what will! Damn it all! I’ll take him, and let everything, go with this baby to Anna Filippovna, fall on my people say what they like!”
knees before her, and say: ‘Forgive me! I have sinned! Torture Miguev took the baby and strode rapidly back.
me, but we won’t ruin an innocent child. We have no chil-
“Let them say what they like,” he thought. “I’ll go at once, dren; let us adopt him!” She’s a good sort, she’d consent… .
fall on my knees, and say: ‘Anna Filippovna!’ Anna is a good And then my child would be with me… . Ech!” sort, she’ll understand… . And we’ll bring him up… . If it’s a He reached the Myelkins’ villa and stood still hesitating.
boy we’ll call him Vladimir, and if it’s a girl we’ll call her He imagined himself in the parlor at home, sitting reading Anna! Anyway, it will be a comfort in our old age.” the paper while a little boy with an aquiline nose played with And he did as he determined. Weeping and almost faint the tassels of his dressing gown. At the same time visions forced with shame and terror, full of hope and vague rapture, he themselves on his brain of his winking colleagues, and of his went into his bungalow, went up to his wife, and fell on his Excellency digging him in the ribs and guffawing… . Besides knees before her.
the pricking of his conscience, there was something warm,
“Anna Filippovna!” he said with a sob, and he laid the baby sad, and tender in his heart… .
on the floor. “Hear me befor