The Undiscovered Chekhov

by Anton Chekhov

  “Oh, my God!” the lady gasps. “Reviving a drowned man? But that’s impossible! fitienne!” she calls out to Stepan Ivan- itch, the bailiff, “for heavens sake go tell them to stop immediately—they will kill him! Shaking him—this is pure superstition! He must be rubbed and given artificial respiration! Please, go over there immediately!”

  Stepan Ivanitch jumps down from the coach box and approaches the shakers. He has a severe look on his face.

  “What are you doing!” he shouts at them in a rage. “That’s no way to revive a man!”

  “So what’re we supposed to do?” the clerk asks. “After all, he drowned!”

  “So what if he drowned! Individuals unconscious due to drowning are not to be shaken, they are to be rubbed! You’ll find it written on every calendar. Put him down immediately!”

  Bewildered, the clerk shrugs his shoulders and steps to the side. The shakers put down the rug and look with surprise first at the lady, and then at Stepan Ivanitch. The drowned man, his eyes now closed, is lying on his back, breathing heavily.

  “Damn drunkards!” Stepan Ivanitch shouts.

  “My dear man!” Anisim says, panting, laying his hand on his heart. “Stepan Ivanitch! Why such words? Are we pigs? Just tell us plain and simple!”

  “You can’t shake him, you have to rub him! Undress him! On the double! Grab hold of him and start rubbing! Undress him, on the double!”

  “Boys! Start rubbing!”

  They undress the drowned man, and under the bailifFs supervision start rubbing him. The lady, not wishing to see the naked peasant, has the coachman drive her a little farther down the road.

  “Ttienne!” she calls to Stepan Ivanitch. “fitienne! Come here! Do you know how to administer artificial respiration? You must rock him from side to side and press him in the chest and stomach!”

  “Rock him from side to side!” Stepan Ivanitch shouts, returning to the crowd. “And press him in the stomach—not so hard, though!”

  The clerk, who after his feverish spurt of action is stand-ing around not quite himself, also joins the others in rubbing the drowned man.

  “I beg you, do your best, brothers!” he says. “I beg you!”

  “Éitienne!” the lady calls out. “Come here! Have him sniff burnt leaves and tickle him! Tickle him! Quickly, for God’s sake!”

  Five minutes pass, ten minutes. The lady looks over at the crowd and notices a commodon. She hears the peasants panting and the bailiff and the clerk barking out orders. A smell of burned leaves and alcohol hangs in the air. Ten more minutes pass, and the peasants keep on working. But finally the crowd parts and the bailiff comes out, red and covered with sweat. Anisim is right behind him.

  “He should have been rubbed from the start,” says Stepan Ivanitch. “Now it’s too late.”

  “What could we have done, Stepan Ivanitch?” Anisim sighs. “We got to him too late!”

  “What is going on?” the lady asks. “Is he alive?”

  “No, he died, may the Lord have mercy upon him,” Anisim says, making the sign of the cross. “When we pulled him out of the water, there was life in him and his eyes were open, but now he’s all stiff.”

  “What a pity!”

  “Well, fate decreed that death would fell him not on dry land but in the water! Could we have a small tip, your lady-ship?”

  The bailiff jumps onto the coach box, and the driver, glancing over at the crowd as it backs away from the dead body, whips up the horses. The carriage drives on.

  INTRIGUES

  a. Election of new chairman of the Association.

  b. Discussion of the October 2nd incident.

  c. Synopsis of the activities of member Dr. M. H. von Bronn.

  d.Routine matters concerning the Association.

  Doctor Shelestov, the culprit in the October 2nd incident, is getting ready to go to the meeting. He has been standing for a long time in front of the mirror, trying to give his face a languid look. If he were to turn up at the meeting with a face that looked concerned, tense, red, or slightly pale, then his enemies would deduce that he was affected by their intrigues. If his face was cold, impassive, as if he had had a good night s sleep, the kind of face that people have who are untouched by the toils and strife of life, then all his enemies would secretly be overcome with respect and think:

  His proud rebellious head doth rise higher

  Than the giddying heights of Napoleons monument.

  Like a person who has little interest in intrigues and squabbles, he would arrive at the meeting later than all the others. He would enter the room quietly, languidly pass his hand through his hair, and without looking at a single person, take a seat at the very end of the table. Assuming the pose of the bored listener, he would suppress a yawn, pick up a newspaper, and start reading. Everyone would be talking, arguing, boiling over, calling each other to order—but he would remain silent, reading his newspaper. Then finally, as his name was repeated more and more often and the burning question turned white- hot, he would lift his bored, weary eyes and say to his colleagues, reluctandy:

  “You are forcing me to speak... Gendemen, I have not prepared a speech, so please bear with me—my words cannot do this scandal justice. I shall begin ab ovo. At the last meeting some of our esteemed colleagues asserted that I do not conduct myself in an appropriate manner during medical consultations, and consequendy they called me to account. Being of the opinion that I need not proffer justifications, and that the accusations are nothing but unscrupulous ploys, I asked that my name be removed from the membership roster of the Association, and subsequently resigned. Now, however, that a whole series of new accusations are being leveled against me, I find, to my great regret, that I am forced to offer an explanation after all. With your permission, I shall explain.”

  At this point, carelessly twirling a pencil or a chain, he would say that yes, in actual fact it was true that during consultations he had sometimes been known to raise his voice and attack colleagues, regardless of who was present. It was also true that once, during a consultation, in the presence of doctors and family members, he had asked the patient, “Who was the idiot who prescribed opium for you?” Rare was a consultation without incident... But why was this? The answer was simple! In these consultations he, Shelestov, was always saddled with colleagues whose knowledge left much to be desired. There were thirty-two doctors in town, most of whom knew less than a first-year medical student. One didn’t have to look far for examples. Needless to say, nomina sunt odiosa—one does not wish to name names—but as they were among themselves at the meeting, and he did not want to appear a scan-dalmonger, names would be mentioned. For instance, everyone was aware that our esteemed colleague von Bronn pierced the esophagus of Madam Seryozhkina, the officials wife, when he inserted a probe.

  At that point von Bronn would jump up, wring his hands, and cry out: “My dear colleague, you were the one who stabbed her, not I! I’ll prove it!”

  Shelestov would ignore him, and continue: “Furthermore, as everyone is aware, our esteemed colleague Zhila mistook the actress Semiramidina’s floating kidney for an abscess and undertook a probing puncture. The immediate result was exitus letalis—lethal consequences! Our esteemed friend Besstrunko, instead of removing the nail from the big toe of a left foot, removed the healthy nail from the right foot. I am also pressed to recall the case in which our esteemed colleague Terkhayantz catheterized the soldier Ivanovs eustachian tubes with such vigor that both his eardrums exploded. I would also like to remind you that this very same colleague of ours, while extracting a tooth, dislocated the patients lower jaw and wouldn’t reset it until the patient agreed to pay him five rubles for the procedure. Our esteemed colleague Kuritsin, who is married to the pharmacist Grummer’s niece, is running a racket with him. Everyone is also aware that the secretary of our Association, your young friend Skoropalitelni, is living with the wife of our highly valued and esteemed chairman, Gustav Gustavovitch Prechtel... You will notice that I have delicately moved from dis
cussing lack of medical knowledge to unethical behavior. I have no choice! Ethics is our weak point, gendemen, and so as not to appear a mere scandalmonger, I will call to your attention our esteemed colleague Puzirkov, who at Colonel Treshinskoy’s name-day party told everyone that it was not Skoropalitelni who was living with our chairmans wife, but I! The effrontery of Mr. Puzirkov, whom I myself caught last year with the wife of our esteemed colleague, Dr. Znobish! Speaking of Znobish—who is it that uses his position as a doctor and can’t quite be trusted when treating ladies? Znobish! Who is it that married a merchants daughter for her dowry? Znobish! And as for our highly esteemed chairman, he secretly dabbles in homeopathy and receives money from the Prussians for espionage! A Prussian spy—that is the ultima ratio!”

  When doctors wish to appear clever and eloquent they use two Latin expressions: nomina sunt odiosa and ultima ratio. Shelestov would drop not only Latin words but French and German ones as well—whatever you want. He would steer everyone to clear waters, rip the masks off the intriguers’ faces. The chairman would ring his bell till he was exhausted— esteemed colleagues would be flying up from their seats all over the place, yelling and waving their arms—colleagues of every denomination would fall over each other in a heap:

  Zip-bang-wham-bang-wham-bang-wham!

  Not batting an eyelash, Shelestov would continue: “And as for this Association, its current membership and organizadon being what it is, it is inevitably headed for destruction. Its whole structure is based exclusively on intrigues. Intrigues, intrigues, intrigues! I, as one of the victims of a mass of demonic intrigues, consider myself bound to expound the following....”

  He would go on expounding, and his supporters would applaud and clasp their hands together in exultation. At this point, with an unimaginable uproar and peals of thunder, the voting for the new chairman would commence. Von Bronn and his cohorts would heatedly support Prechtel, but the public and the ethical group of doctors would boo them and shout, “Down with Prechtel! We want Shelestov! Shelestov!”

  Shelestov would consent, but on condition that Prechtel and von Bronn ask his forgiveness for the October 2nd incident. Again there would be an unimaginable clamor, and again the esteemed colleagues of the Jewish faith would fall over each other in a heap: “Zip-bang-wham!” Prechtel and von Bronn, seething with indignation, would end up resigning from the Association. Not that he would care!

  Shelestov would end up as chairman. First he would clean out the Augean stables. Znobish—out! Terkhayantz—out! The esteemed colleagues of the Jewish denomination—out! With his supporters he would see to it that by January not a single intriguer would be left in the Association. The first thing he would do would be to have the walls of the Association’s clinic painted, and hang up a sign saying “Absolutely No Smoking.” Then he would fire the medical attendant and his wife, and medicine would henceforth be ordered not from the Grumer pharmacy but from the Khryashchambzhitskov pharmacy. All doctors would be forbidden to perform operations without his supervision, etc. And most important, he would have visiting cards printed, saying “Chairman of the Association of Doctors.”

  Thus Shelestov dreams as he stands at home in front of his mirror. But the clock strikes seven, reminding him that it is time to leave for the meeting. He shakes himself awake from his sweet thoughts and hurriedly tries to give his face a languid expression, but—alas! He tries to make his face languid and interesting, but it does not obey, and instead becomes sour and dull, like the face of a shivering mongrel puppy. He tries to make his face look firm, but it resists and expresses bewil-derment, and it seems to him now that he does not look like a puppy but like a goose. He lowers his eyelids, narrows his eyes, puffs up his cheeks, knits his brow, but all to no avail- damn!... he cannot get the right expression. Obviously, the innate characteristics of that face are such that you couldn’t do much with them. His forehead is narrow; his small eyes flit about nervously, like those of a cunning marketwoman; his lower jaw juts out somehow absurdly and stupidly; and his cheeks and hair give the impression that this “esteemed colleague” has just been kicked out of a billiard parlor.

  Shelestov looks at his face, flies into a rage, and begins sensing that his face is plotting against him. He goes out into the hall, and as he is putting on his coat, his galoshes, and his hat, he feels that they are intriguing against him too.

  “Cabbie, to the clinic!”

  He hands the cabbie twenty kopecks, and the intriguing cabbie asks for twenty-five. He sits in the droshky going down the street; the cold wind beats him in the face, the wet snow flies into his eyes, the horse drags its feet. Everything is conspiring to intrigue against him. Intrigues, intrigues, intrigues!

  THIS

  AND

  THAT:

  FOUR

  VIGNETTES

  IT IS A BEAUTIFUL FROSTY DAY. Sunbeams play on every drop of snow. There is no wind, no cloud. A couple is sitting on a bench on the boulevard.

  “I love you,” he whispers.

  Litde pink cupids flush over her cheeks.

  “I love you,” he continues. “When I first set eyes upon you, I understood why I am alive—I saw the aim of my life! It is either life with you—or absolute nonexistence! Marya Ivanovna! My dearest! Yes or no? Marya! Marya Ivanovna... I love... my darling Marya... Please answer me, or I shall die! Yes or no?”

  She raises her eyes and looks at him. She wants to say yes; she opens her mouth.

  “Yuck!” she screams. On his snow-white collar, racing past each other, are two gigantic bugs... how disgusting!!

  “Dearest Mama,” an artist wrote to his mother, “I’ll be coming to visit you! Thursday morning I’ll have the pleasure of pressing you to my heart that is so full of love for you! To heighten the pleasure of our seeing each other again, I shall bring... Go on, guess! No, Mama, you’ll never guess! I’ll bring with me that marvel of beauty, that pearl of human art! I shall bring (I can see you smile) the Belvedere Apollo!”

  “My darling Nicolai,” his mother wrote back. “I am so happy that you are going to visit me. May the Lord bless you! But come on your own; don’t bring Mr. Belvedere! There’s hardly enough to eat for the two of us.”

  The air is full of soothing fragrances: lilacs, roses. A nightingale sings, the sun is shining... and so on.

  Under a spreading acacia tree on a bench in the town park sits a high school senior in his new uniform. He wears a pince- nez on his nose, and a little mustache. Beside him sits a pretty young thing.

  The student is holding her hand. He trembles, turns pale, blushes, and whispers words of love.

  “Oh, I love you! If you only knew how much I love you!”

  “And I love you!” she whispers back.

  The student puts his arm around her waist.

  “Oh life! How blessed you are! I am drowning, I’m transported with happiness! Plato was right when he said... Oh, just one kiss! Olya! Just one kiss!”

  Languidly she lowers her eyes. How she thirsts for this kiss! His lips stretch toward her pink lips. The nightingale sings even louder.

  “Get back to your class!” a resonant tenor voice booms above the students head.

  The student lifts his head, and his cap falls off. The school inspector is standing in front of them.

  “Get back to your class!”

  “But it’s our lunch break, sir!”

  “You have a Latin class! You will have to stay two hours after school today!”

  The student stands up, puts on his cap, and leaves. As he leaves, he feels her eyes resting on his back. Behind them, the inspectors footsteps.

  They are playing Hamlet:

  “The fair Ophelia!” Hamlet shouts. “Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered!”

  “The right side of your beard has come off!” Ophelia whispers.

  “Be all my sins remembered!... huh?”

  “The right side of your beard has come off!”

  “Damn!! To a nunnery, go!”

  ELEMENTS

&nb
sp; MOST OFTEN

  FOUND IN

  NOVELS,

  SHORT

  SHORT

  STORIES,ETC.

  ACOUNT, A COUNTESS still showing traces of a once great beauty, a neighboring baron, a liberal man of letters, an impoverished nobleman, a foreign musician, slow-witted manservants, nurs-es, governesses, a German bailiff, a squire, and an heir from America. Plain faces, but kind and winning. The hero—whisking the heroine off a bolting horse—courageous and capable in any given situation of demonstrating the power of his fists.

  Heavenly summits, immense, impenetrable distances... in a word, incomprehensible nature!

  Fair-haired friends and red-haired foes.

  A rich uncle, open-minded or conservative, depending on circumstances. His death would be better for our hero than his constant demands.

  An aunt in the town ofTambov.

  A doctor with an anxious face, giving hope in a crisis; often he will have a bald pate and a walking stick with a knob. And where there’s a doctor, there is always rheumatism that arises from the difficulties of righteousness; migraine; inflammation of the brain; nursing of wounds after duels; and the inevitable prescribing of water cures.

  A butler, in service for generations, ready to follow his master into the fire. A superb wit.

  A dog so clever he can practically speak, a parrot, and a thrush.

  A dacha outside Moscow and an impounded estate in the south.

  Frequent purposeless references to electricity.

  A wallet made of Russian leather; Chinese porcelain; an English saddle. A revolver that doesn’t misfire, a medal on a lapel, pineapples, champagne, truffles, and oysters.

  Inadvertendy overheard words that suddenly make everything clear.

  An immeasurable number of interjections and attempts at weaving in the latest technical terms.

  Gende hints at portentous circumstances.

  More often than not, no ending.