Gende hints at portentous circumstances.
More often than not, no ending.
Seven deadly sins at the beginning and a wedding at the end.
The end.
SUPLEMENTARY
QUESTIONS
FOR THE
STATISTICAL
CENSUS,
SUBMITTED BY
ANTOSHA
CHEKHONTE
16) Are you a clever person, or are you an idiot?
17) Are you an honest person? A swindler? A robber? A bastard? A lawyer or...?
18) Who is your favorite satirist? Suvorin? Bukva? Amicus? Lukin? Yuli Schreier, or...?
19) Are you a Joseph or a Caligula? A Shoshana or a Nana?
20) Is your wife a blond? A brunette? A starlet? Or a red-head?
21) Does your wife beat you, or not? Do you beat her, or not?
22) How much did you weigh in pounds when you were ten years old?
23) Do you partake of hot drinks—yes or no?
24) “What were you thinking about the night you filled out these census forms?
25) Did you see Sarah Bernhardt on stage—yes or no?
QUESTIONS
POSED
BY A
MAD
MATHEMATICIAN
1. I was chased by 30 dogs, 7 of which were white, 8 gray, and the rest black. Which of my legs was bitten, the right or the left?
2. Ptolemy was born in the year 223 A.D. and died after reaching the age of eighty-four. Half his life he spent traveling, and a third, having fun. What is the price of a pound of nails, and was Ptolemy married?
3. On New Year’s Eve, 200 people were thrown out of the Bolshoi Theaters costume ball for brawling. If the brawlers numbered 200, then what was the number of guests who were drunk, slighdy drunk, swearing, and those trying but not managing to brawl?
4. What is the sum of the following numbers?
5. Twenty chests of tea were purchased. Each chest contained 5 poods of tea, each pood comprising 40 pounds. Two of the horses transporting the tea collapsed on the way, one of the carters fell ill, and 18 pounds of tea were spilled. One pound contains 96 zolotniks of tea. What is the difference between pickle brine and bewilderment?
6. There are 137,856,738 words in the English language, and 0.7 more in the French language. The English and the French came together and united their two languages. What is the cost of the third parrot, and how much time was necessary to subjugate these nations?
7. Wednesday, June 17, 1881, a train had to leave station A at 3 A.M. in order to reach station B at 11 P.M.; just as the train was about to depart, however, an order came that the train had to reach station B by 7 P.M. Who is capable of loving longer, a man or a woman?
8. My mother-in-law is 75, and my wife 42. What time is it?
A LAWYER’S
ROMANCE:
A PROTOCOL
affix
60 kopeck
duty
stamp
ON THE TENTH OF February, in the year eighteen seventy-seven, in the City of St. Petersburg, Moscovsky Region, District 2, in the house of Zhivotov, Second-Guild trader, located on the Ligovka, I, the undersigned, met Marya Alekseyevna Barabanova, daughter of a Titular Counselor, 18 years of age, literate and of Russian Orthodox faith. Meeting the aforementioned Barabanova, I experienced an attraction for her. Since, according to art. 994 of the crim. cdx., illegal cohab-itation incurs penalties as determined in the above article, in addition to church penitence, (cf. the case of trader Solodovnikov, 1881, voi. of Court Disp., Fin. Dept.), I asked for her hand in marriage.
I married her, but did not live with her for a long time.
I fell out of love with her. Having assigned her complete dowry to my name, I began lounging about in drinking houses—the Livadias, the Eldorados—and did so for five years. So, according to art. 54, vol. 10 of the Civil Court Codex, a five-year absence without knowledge of an indi- viduals whereabouts is grounds for divorce, and so, with due deference, I respectfully request that your Honor initiate proceedings for me to divorce my wife.
QUESTIONS
AND ANSWERS
QUESTIONS
1) How can you tell what she’s thinking?
2) What can an illiterate man read?
3) Does the wife love me?
4) When can you sit and stand at the same time?
ANSWERS
1) Search her premises.
2) A heart.
3) Whose wife?
4) When you’re sitting in jail.
AMERICA
IN
ROSTOV
ON THE
DON
THE FOLLOWING CURIOUS notice adorned the last couple of issues of the Don Bee:
My wife, Efrosinya Alexandrovna, ran away—“to find some love and happiness”—with an army officer. As I am perfecdy happy without her, I ask, first of all, that she never come back again, and second, that whoever might find her does not deliver her back here, and third, that I refuse to recognize any further extensions to my lineage, except for our two children, Alexander (4), and Yevgeni (4 months).
Yakov Selvestovich Ribalkin
This notice led us to the following modest reflections:
1. What if somebody does find this treacherous woman and, ignoring the notice, brings her back to the esteemed Mr. Rib- alkin? What then?
2. How much will the esteemed Mr. Ribalkin be paid per line? This “tale from his life” is so interesting that the Don Bee’s readership has increased at least threefold in the last few days. Although it would not surprise us if the honorarium for this piece went to Mr. Ter-Abramian, himself—“the Pumb- lisher [!] and Enditor [!]” This editor is obviously under the misapprehension that the above piece is a bona fide announcement. He refuses to acknowledge that there might well be other humorists beside himself.
3. The style of this announcement reminds one too much of Mr. Ter-Abramians own style. Could this be a joke at the expense of the public on the part of the great publisher himself?
MR.
GULEWTCH,
WRITER,
AND THE
DROWNED
MAN
ON FRIDAY, JUNE 10, the famous and talented journalist Ivan Ivanovitch Ivanov took his own life in the Hermitage gardens, in front of everyone. He drowned himself in the pond. May you rest in peace, you honest and noble toiler, whisked away in the prime of life. (The deceased was not yet thirty.)
That same Friday, in the morning, the deceased had taken some pickle brine for his hangover, written a playful sketch, lunched cheerfully with friends, gone for a walk in the park with some cocottes at seven in the evening, and at eight... taken his life!
Ivan Ivanovitch was known to be joyful, carefree—a lover of life.
He never thought of death, and had not once boasted that he would live “God knows how long,” even though he drank like a fish. So you can imagine the expressions on the faces of all who knew him when his body was pulled out of the green water!
Rumors raced through the park—“There’s something fishy going on! This smells of foul play! The deceased had no creditors, no wife, no mother-in-law... he loved life! There is no way he would have drowned himself!”
The suspicion of foul play grew stronger when the ven-triloquist, Mr. Egorov, attested that a quarter of an hour before Ivanovs tragic end, he had seen the deceased in a boat with Mr. Gulevitch, writer. When the authorities undertook a search for Mr. Gulevitch, it turned out that the writer had made a run for it.
Arrested in Serpukhov, Mr. Gulevitch, writer, at first claimed he knew nothing. Then, when he was told that a confession would mitigate his guilt, he burst into tears and confessed. At the preliminary inquest he made the following deposition:
“I knew Ivanov only for a short time. I became acquainted with him because I have a great respect for men of the press. [In the protocol the word respect was underlined.] There were no family ties between us, nor did we have any business connections. On the ill-fated evening, I had invited hi
m for tea and stout, because I have great respect for literature [here again respect was underlined, and next to it in scrawny protocol handwriting, ‘All this emphasis!’]. After tea, Ivan Ivanovitch said, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to take a boat out.’ I agreed, and we got into a boat.
“‘So tell me a joke!’ Ivan Ivanovitch said when we were in the middle of the pond.
“I didn’t need to be asked twice, and launched into one of my classical jokes with ‘Well, if you insist.’ After only a few words Ivan Ivanovitch burst out laughing, grabbing his stomach, rocking back and forth, causing the deciduous [What does he mean?] foliage of the Hermitage gardens to resound with the congenial [What?] hilarity of the venerable journalist... When I, Gulevitch, writer, finished my second joke, Ivan Ivanovitch again burst out laughing, rolled back... It was Homeric laughter! Only a Homer [Who?] could laugh thus! He rolled back, leaned against the side... the boat listed, and the silvery ripples obfuscated him from Mother Russia’s loving eyes... and... I can’t go on! Tears... are choking me!”
This deposition did not quite match the deposition given by Mr. Egorov. The venerable ventriloquist stated that Ivanov was by no means laughing. Quite the contrary. While he was listening to Mr. Gulevitch, writer, his face was sour and doleful in the extreme. Mr. Egorov had been on the shore, and had heard and seen how at the end of the second anecdote Ivanov had clasped his head and exclaimed: “How stale and boring life is! What melancholy!”
It was after he uttered these words that he tumbled into the water.
The law will now have to decide which of the two depo-sitions is more credible. Mr. Gulevitch has been released on bail.
The death of Mr. Ivanov was not the first fatal incident in the Hermitage Park, and it is high time someone took measures to protect the public from future incidents of this nature... By the way, I’m only joking.
THE
POTATO
AND THE
TENOR
HOW DANGEROUS FOODS can sometimes be is seen in the following excerpt from the medical journal the Physician’s Whistle:
The other day I was convinced yet again of the danger of starchy foods (writes Dr. B.). The tenor Mr.—Sh mov visited me at the polyclinic, complaining of tightness and cramping of the throat. When I inspected his throat with a mirror, I noted that a potato the size of an egg was lodged against his vocal cords. The potato was already bloated and had begun to sprout. I asked the poor tenor how this had happened, and he explained that the potato had become embedded in his throat five years before, and had already borne fruit five times.
“In five years I have coughed up five sacks of potatoes!” he said with a bitter smile.
When I suggested that the patient undergo surgery, he refused point-blank, insisting that the potato in no way impeded his singing. I asked him to sing something. He was kind enough to oblige, and sang an aria from Cagliostro. Indeed, he could still sing.
“But isn’t it a problem that your voice resembles the howl of a young jackal?” I asked him.
“No, not at all,” the tenor answered.
The Physicians Whistle, NO. 22
MAYONNAISE
ASTRONOMERS REJOICED when they discovered spots on the face of the sun. A case of unparalleled malice!
An official took a bribe. At the very moment of the fall, his boss entered and looked suspiciously at his clenched fist, in which the illicit bank note lay. The official was deeply embarrassed.
“Excuse me!” he called after the petitioner, holding out his palm. “You forgot something in my hand!”
When is a goat a pig?
“Somebody’s goat had started coming over to our goats,” a landowner told us. “We caught the goat and gave it a good hiding. But it still kept coming over. So we gave it a real thrashing and tied a stick to its tail. But that didn’t help either. It still managed to get at our goats. Fine! We caught it, spread tobacco on its nose, and smeared it with turpentine. After that it didn’t show up for three days, but then there it was again! Now isn’t that goat a pig?”
Exemplary resourcefulness:
When the Saint Petersburg reporter N.Z. visited the tex-tile exhibition last year, he noticed one pavilion in particular and began writing something down.
“I think you just dropped a twenty-five ruble note,” the exhibitor in the pavilion said, handing him the note.
“I dropped two twenty-fivers!” the reporter shot back. The exhibitor was so amazed at this resourcefulness that he gave him a second twenty-fiver.
This really happened.
AT
A
PATIENTS
BEDSIDE
D OCTORS POPOV AND MILLER are standing by a patient’s bed, arguing.
POPOV: I must confess that I’m not a strong believer in conservative methods.
MILLER: My dear colleague, I haven’t said a word about conservatism... it’s up to you what you believe or don’t believe, what you acknowledge and what you don’t acknowledge. What I’m saying is we need, in concreto, a change in regime.
THE PATIENT: Oh! (With difficulty he rises from the bed, walks to the door, and peeks apprehensively into the next room.) Nowadays even the walls have ears!
POPOV: The patient is complaining about oppression—tightness in the chest—the feeling of not being allowed to breathe. "We’ll have to resort to strong measures.
The patient groans and looks fearfully toward the window.
MILLER: But before we go to extremes, I suggest we scrutinize his constitution.
THE PATIENT (turning pale): Gendemen, please don’t speak so loud! I’m a civil servant, a family man! People are walking by right outside the window.... I have servants! Oh!(He wrings his hands despairingly.)
MY
LOVE
SHE, AS MY PARENTS and my bosses authoritatively affirm, had been born before me. Whether this is true or not, all I know is that I don’t remember a single day in my life when I didn’t belong to her, when I didn’t feel under her power. She doesn’t leave my side night or day, and I myself would never think of walking out on her—our bond, you might say, is powerful, lasting. But do not be jealous, young girls reading these words! This touching bond brings me nothing but misery! First of all, in not leaving my side night or day, she will not let me do the things I need to do. She won’t let me read, write, go for walks, enjoy nature. Now, as I write these lines, she pulls me by the elbow and, like Cleopatra of ancient times, tries to drag me, her Antony, toward the bed. Secondly, she ruins me like a French courtesan. For her affections I have sacrificed everything: career, glory, and comfort. Because of her I go about dressed in rags, live in poor lodgings, eat meager scraps of food, write in pale ink. She consumes everything, everything—she is insatiable! I detest her, despise her! I should have sought a divorce long ago, but until now I haven’t done so—and not because Moscow lawyers charge four thousand for a divorce, either. We don’t have children so far. Oh, you would like to know her name? With pleasure. It is a name that begins with an L, as in Lily, Lizzy, Lalya.
Her name is: LAZINESS.
DOCTOR’S
ADVICE
FOR A COLD, TAKING EXTRACT of the hair of the dog that bit you is helpful, on an empty stomach on Saturdays.
Head-spinning can be stopped in the following manner: take two bits of string, tie your right ear to one wall, and your left ear to the wall facing it. As a result, your head s capacity to spin will be inhibited.
For arsenic poisoning, try to induce vomiting, which can be achieved by a sniff of food bought at the Okhotni Ryad market.
For strong and persistent coughing, try not to cough at all for three or four days, and your ailment will disappear on its own.
A
GLOSSARY
OF TERMS
FOR
YOUNG
LADIES
IF A DILIGENT SCHOOLGIRL loves studying physics, then this is physical love.
When young people declare love in a car, it’s carnal love.
If a young lady
doesn’t love you, but your brother, then it’s brotherly love.
When people love spraying themselves with scents, then this is sensual love.
When an elderly maid loves dogs, cats, and animals in general, then this is an animalistic love.
Husband is the word for a man who, out of pity and by police injunction, helps fathers feed and clothe their daughters.
A rutting life is postmen and coachmen trotting in autumn down broken, rutted roads.
A NEW
ILLNESS
AND AN
OLD CURE
Operations on the body produce symptoms analogous to bouts of fitful fever (febris intermutens). Before making the incision, spasms of the peripheral vessels induce pallor. Pupils dilate. Our general deduction is that the sight of the approaching specialists agitates the vascular motor center and the nervus oculomotorius. A chill ensues. During the incision, we note a rise in body temperature and hyperestesia of the skin. After the incision has been performed there is a fever. Sweat breaks out.
On the basis of this analogy, I propose that all medical students dissecting a cadaver take a dose of quinine before coming to school.
DATES
OF
FIRST
PUBLICATION
IN
PERIODICALS
“Sarah Bernhardt Comes to Town” (I to, i syo: Pis’ma i telegramy Antoshi Ch.), Zritel, no. 23-24., December 6, 1881.
“On the Train” (V vagone), Zritel, no. 9, 1881, signed “Antosha Ch.”
“The Trial” (Sud) Zritel, no. 14, 1881, signed “Antosha Chekhonte.”
“Confession; or, Olya, Zhenya, Zoya: A Letter” (Ispoved’ ili Olya, Zhenya, Zoya: Pis’mo) Budilnik, no. 12, 1882.
“Village Doctors” (Sel’skiye eskulapy), Svet i teni, July 18, 1882, no. 22, signed “Antosha.”
The Undiscovered Chekhov: Forty-Three New Stories Page 12
