PREFACE
Anton Tchekhoff, the writer of the stories and sketches here translated, although hardly known in this country, and but little better known on the western continent of Europe, has during the last fifteen years been regarded as the most talented of the younger generation of Russian writers. Even the remarkable popularity attained during the last few years by Maxim Gorky has not eclipsed his fame, though it has probably done much to prevent the recognition of his talents abroad. Tchekhoff's stories lack the striking incidents and lurid colouring of the younger writer's, and thus, while they appeal more strongly to the cultivated Russian, they are devoid of the more obvious qualities that attract the translator and the public which read translations. Though they have gone into numberless editions in Russia, they are almost unknown abroad, being, in fact, represented only by a few scattered translations and small volumes published in France and Germany, and by a few critical articles in the reviews of those countries. In England, Tchekhoff is only a name to most of those interested in Eastern literature, and not even a name to the general public.
Anton Pavlovitch Tchekhoff was born in 1860, spent his infancy in South Russia, and was educated in the Medical Faculty of Moscow University. Although a doctor by profession, and actually practising for some years as a municipal medical officer, he began his literary career as a story writer before completing his professional education, contributing, when a student, sketches to the weekly comic journals, and feuilletons to the St. Petersburg newspapers. Tchekhoff's early stories turn largely upon domestic misunderstandings; they are brief, avowedly humorous, and even farcical. They attracted early attention by their irresponsible gaiety, seldom untinged with a certain bitterness. The Steppe, a panorama of travel through the great plains of South Russia, published serially in the now extinct Sieverni Viestnik, was the first of his productions of sustained merit. It was followed by a series of stories and sketches and one volume of dramas, which have, in the opinion of Russian critics, established the writer on a level with the best native fiction writers, and on a much higher level than any of his contemporaries.
Tchekhoff in his manner of thought is essentially a Russian; as an artist essentially Western, having perhaps only one thing in common with the writers of his own country. Russian novelists, with few exceptions—Turgenieff, a man of Western training and sympathies, was one—have commonly lacked the instinct of coherency, the lack of which in fiction is redeemed only by genius. The novels of Dostoyeffsky and Tolstoy are notoriously defective in this respect. Tchekhoff and Gorky suffer from the same deficiency. Unlike Gorky, Tchekhoff has never essayed the long novel; and even his longer short stories, one of which is included in this volume, are redeemed from failure chiefly by their humour and close observation of Russian life. With this exception, Tchekhoff has little in common with other Russian writers. He is more objective, less diffuse, less inspiring, and less human. His compatriots, Count Tolstoy among them, compare him with Maupassant His method of treatment presents many parallels; he has the same brevity, the same remorselessness, the same insistence upon the significantly little.
But in his teaching, if teaching it can be called, Tchekhoff is thoroughly Russian. A French critic[1] has lately reviewed his stories in a chapter called L'impuissance de vivre, and this phrase summarises admirably what Tchekhoff has to say. The political condition of modern Russia involves the repression of all intellect and initiative, or, at best, their diversion into unproductive official channels; hence, the distaste for life. and intellectual stagnation which, represented here in "Ward No. 6," run through all Tchekhoff's longer stories, and particularly through his dramas, most of which end in disillusion and suicide. Russian life presents itself to Tchekhoff as the unprofitable struggle of the exceptional few against the trivial and insignificant many. His pages are peopled with psychopaths, degenerates of genius and virtue, who succumb in feeble revolt against the baseness and banality of life, and are quite unfit to combat the healthy, rude, but unintelligent forces around them. Kovrin, Likharyóff, and Doctor Andréi Yéfimitch, three heroes in this collection, are characteristic of Tchekhoff's outlook. All aspiring men, he says, are predestined martyrs; only the base achieve immunity from ruin: and as martyrdom is the exception, not the rule, it results that Tchekhoff's ordinary men, and the secondary characters in most of his stories, are insignificant and mean. The life depicted is in itself uninteresting; its colour is grey, its keynote tedium, its only humour the humour of the satirist, not of the sympathiser, and its only tragedy, failure. Tchekhoff is essentially an objective writer, and this gives him an undue detachment from the life which he describes; he never points a moral, delays over an explanation, or shrinks from the incompleteness which, truthful to life, is often unsatisfactory in art. But his attitude towards life is not the less unmistakable because never openly expressed; pessimism, inspired by fatalism and denial of the will, but tempered by humour and apathy, is its note. That note appears perhaps less in this volume than it would in a more representative collection of Tchekhoff's writings. But in choosing these stories from among more than a hundred, I have been guided not merely by what was best, but also by what seemed most likely to be understood by a public unfamiliar with Russian manners and Russian thought.
The stories "The Black Monk," "In Exile," "Rothschild's Fiddle," "A Father," and "At the Manor," have been translated from the volume Poviesti i Razskazni, St. Petersburg, 1898; "A Family Council," from Razskazni, 12th edition, St. Petersburg, 1898; "Ward No. 6," from Palata No. Shestoi, 6th edition, St. Petersburg, 1898; "On the Way," "At Home," "Two Tragedies," and "An Event," from V Sumerkakh, 13th edition, St. Petersburg, 1899; and "Sleepyhead," from Khmuriye Liudi, 8th edition, St. Petersburg, 1898. "In Exile" was published in the Fortnightly Review in September, 1903, and is reprinted here with the Editor's permission.
R. E. C. L.
[1] Ivan Strannik. La Pensée Russe Contemporaine. Paris, Librairie Armand Colin, 1903.
CONTENTS
[The Black Monk]
[On the Way]
[A Family Council]
[At Home]
[In Exile]
[Rothschild's Fiddle]
[A Father]
[Two Tragedies]
[Sleepyhead]
[At the Manor]
[An Event]
[Ward No. 6]