There is nothing new. Everything is running along smoothly, if you don't count the periostitis. My countenance is still askew. Keep well. If Mama is still with you, give her my regards. I have sent home a lot of perfumed soap. If you were in Mel- ikhovo you would get a piece.
Your papa,
A. Chekhov
To ALEXANDER CHEKHOV
February 23, 1898, Nice
Brother!!
... "New Times" behaved just abominably in the Zola affair. The old man and I exchanged letters on the subject (in an extremely moderate tone, though) and now both of us have shut up. I don't want to write to him or get his letters, wherein he justifies his paper's tactlessness by saying he loves the mili- tary—I really don't, as I have been sick and tired of the whole business for a long time. I am fond of the military, too, but if I owned a paper, I would not allow those cactuses to make a supplementary printing of a novel1 of Zola's without paying royalties and then pour filth over the author—and what for?— for having qualities that not a single one of those cactuses could ever recognize—a noble impulse and purity of spirit. At any rate, abusing Zola when he is on trial is unworthy of literature.
I got your portrait and have presented it to a little French girl with this inscription: . . . She will think you are discussing one of your articles on the woman question.
Don't be bashful about writing. Greetings to Natalia Alexan- drovna and the children.
L'homme des lettres,
A. Tchekhoff
To ALEXANDER CHEKHOV
August 14, 1898, Melikhovo
Your first-born, Nikolai, arrived the day before yesterday. He will live in Melikhovo until his studies in Moscow get under way. We have just had the following conversation:
I. I am going to write your father now. What shall I tell him about you?
He. Tell him I am sitting here eating apples and that's all.
He has been telling us about Valdaika and the estate it seems you have bought or intend to buy. If this is so, it's a good idea.
When you walk past the theatre office, go in and tell the young lady there that authors hafta eat. She owes me some money and you have every right to demand it. What do you
1 Supplements were the extra section of newspapers or magazines given to readers as premiums for subscriptions. New Times was running Zola's novel Paris in ils supplements without paying any royalties.
hear about Suvorin? \Vhere is he? We are having hot weather and are melting away pleasantly. A general has taken up resi- dence in the country home next door, which is very Hattering to us. My greetings to Dr. Oldrogge, and write me in greater detail of your alcoholic undertakings. Regards to your pious family. In bad weather keep your pants dry and heed your elders.
Your benefactor,
Antonio
To ALEXEI SUVORIN
October 8, /SgS, YaZta
You write that the public should not be pampered; so be it, but still there is no need to sell my books for more money than Potapenko's and Korolenko's. Here in Yalta my books are sold in large numbers and I have been told in the bookshops that the buying public is often ill-disposed toward me. I am in fear that the ladies I meet on the streets may thrash me with their parasols. . . .
The Crimean seashore is beautiful and comfortable and I prefer it to the Riviera, but it has one serious drawback—there is no culture. In the matter of civilization Yalta has even pro- gressed beyond Nice with our splendid sewage system, but the outskirts are pure Asia.
I read a notice on Nemirovich's and Stanislavski's theatre and on their production of "Fyodor Ioannovich"1 in "New Times" and I couldn't understand what the review was driving at. You had liked the production so much and it had been so cordially received that only some deep misunderstanding could have led to the writing of such a notice, something I know nothing about. What happened?
Before my departure, I may say in passing, I attended a rehearsal of "Fyodor Ioannovich." Its tone of culture had an
1 Czar Fyodor loannovich—well-known play by Count A!e.\ei K. Tolstoy (1817-1875). The role of Fyodor was played by the to-be-famous Ivan lloskvin.
To vladimir nemirovich-danchenko [/8gb]
ag.-eeable effect on me and the performance was a truly artistic one, although no particularly dazzling talents were in evidence. In my opinion Irina2 was admirable. Her voice, her nobility, her quality of warmth were so superb that I felt choked with emotion. Fyodor seemed to me not so good. . . . But Irina was best of all. IЈ I had remained in Moscow I would have fallen in love with this Irina . . . .
Keep well and let me wish you all the best—I send my re- spects. I am on my way to the bath house.
Yours,
A. Chekhov
To VLADIMIR NEMIROVICH-DANCHENKO
October 21, i8g8, Yalta
My dear Vladimir Ivanovich,
am in Yalta and will continue here for some time to come. The trees and g.-ass are wearing their summer green, it is warm, bright, calm, dry, and today, for example, it is not warm, but downright hot. I like it very much and may decide to settle here for good.
Your teleg.-am affected me profoundly. My warm thanks to you, Konstantin Semyonovich and the company for remember- ing me. Pleasc don't forget me and write, even though it isn't often. You are now a very busy person, and a director, but still do write now and then to this idle chap. Give me all the details, how the company reacted to the success of the first perform- ances, how "The Sea Gull" is going, what changes have been made in the assignment of parts and so on and so forth. Judg- ing by the newspapers, the start was brilliant—and I am very, very happy, happier than you can imagine. Your success is merely additional proof that both the public and the actors
Irina—this part was played by Olga Knipper. Knipper married Chekhov in 1901.
need a cultured theatre. But why is there no mention of Irina— Knipper? Don't tell me some confusion has arisen? I didn't like your Fyodor, but Irina seemed extraordinary; now people talk more of Fyodor than they do of Irina.
I have become involved in the life of the community and have been appointed a member of the board of trustees of the girls' school. And now I walk along the school steps very sedately and all the young girl students in their white caps drop me curtsies. . . .
I am waiting for "Antigone"1 and waiting because you prom- ised to send a copy. I need it badly.
I am expecting my sister, who is coming here, according to the wire she sent. We are going to decide what to do now. Now that Father is dead my mother will scarcely wish to live alone in the country. We'll have to think up something else for her.
My respects and regards to Ekaterina Nikolayevna, Roxanova and Knipper, and my humble salutations to Vishnevski. I recall them all with great pleasure.
Keep well and happy. Please write. A cordial handshake.
Yours,
A. Chekhov
To LYDIA AVILOVA
October 21, 1898, Yalta I read your letter and could only throw up my hands in despair. If I wished you happiness and good health in my last letter it was not because I desired to discontinue our corre- spondence or, Heaven help us, avoid you, but simply because I really wished and now wish you happiness and health. That should be plain. And if you read things in my letters that are not there, it is probably because I don't know how to express myself. . . .
1 Sophocles' tragedy was in rehearsal at the Moscow Art Theatre.
I am now in Yalta, will stay on for some time to come, even perhaps for the entire winter. The weather is marvelous, abso- lutely summerlike . . . . Perhaps I shall even make my home in Yalta. My father died this month and with his death the coun- try place where I resided has lost all its delight for me; my mother and sister do not wish to live there either and now I must begin a new life. And since I am forbidden to spend my winters in the north, it behooves me to weave myself a new nest, in the south probably. My father died unexpectedly, after a serious operation—and it had a depressing effect on me and my whole family; I cannot pull myself together. . . .