Letters of Anton Chekhov to His Family and FriendsChekhov, Anton Pavlovich
General
Letters of Anton Chekhov to His Family and Friends
Chekhov, Anton Pavlovich
Authors, Russian -- 19th century -- Correspondence; Chekhov, Anton Pavlovich, 1860-1904 -- Correspondence
And so, my dear friend, I am setting off on Wednesday or Thursday at
latest. Good-bye till December. Good luck in my absence. I received the
money, thank you very much, though fifteen hundred roubles is a great deal;
I don’t know where to put it.... I feel as though I were preparing for the
battlefield, though I see no dangers before me but toothache, which I am
sure to have on the journey. As I am provided with nothing in the way of
papers but a passport, I may have unpleasant encounters with the
authorities, but that is a passing trouble. If they refuse to show me
something, I shall simply write in my book that they wouldn’t show it me,
and that’s all, and I won’t worry. In case I am drowned or anything of that
sort, you might keep it in mind that all I have or may have in the future
belongs to my sister; she will pay my debts.
I am taking my mother with me and putting her down at the Troitsky
Monastery; I am taking my sister too, and leaving her at Kostroma. I am
telling them I shall be back in September.
I shall go over the university in Tomsk. As the only faculty there is
medicine I shall not show myself an ignoramus.
I have bought myself a fur coat, an officer’s waterproof leather coat, big
boots, and a big knife for cutting sausage and hunting tigers. I am
equipped from head to foot.
TO HIS SISTER.
STEAMER “ALEXANDR NEVSKY 23,”
April, 1890, early in the morning.
My dear Tunguses!
Did you have rain when Ivan was coming back from the monastery? In
Yaroslavl there was such a downpour that I had to swathe myself in my
leather chiton. My first impression of the Volga was poisoned by the rain,
by the tear-stained windows of the cabin, and the wet nose of G., who came
to meet me at the station. In the rain Yaroslavl looks like Zvenigorod, and
its churches remind me of Perervinsky Monastery; there are lots of
illiterate signboards, it’s muddy, jackdaws with big heads strut about the
pavement.
In the steamer I made it my first duty to indulge my talent--that is, to
sleep. When I woke I beheld the sun. The Volga is not bad; water meadows,
monasteries bathed in sunshine, white churches; the wide expanse is
marvellous, wherever one looks it would be a nice place to sit down and
begin fishing. Class ladies [Translator’s Note: I.e., School chaperons,
whose duty it is to sit in the classroom while the girls are receiving
instruction from a master.] wander about on the banks, nipping at the green
grass. The shepherd’s horn can be heard now and then. White gulls, looking
like the younger Drishka, hover over the water.
The steamer is not up to much....
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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