Everyone sends regards. There is nothing new. There aren't even any flies. Even the calves won't bite.
1 By this date, Knipper and Chekhov were good friends and she had visited the Chckhovs at Melikhovo. This is the first lettcr Chekhov wrote to her.
I had wanted to accompany you to the station that time, but fortunately the rain prevented me from doing so.
I was in St. Petersburg and had my picture taken twice; I almost froze to death there. I won't be leaving for Yalta before the beginning of July.
\Vith your permission, I press your hand cordially and send my best wishes.
Your
A. Chekhov
To MAXIM GORKI
june 22, /8gg, Moscow
My dearest Alexei Maximovich,
Why are you depressed? Why do you abuse your "Foma Gordeyev" so violently? If you will permit me, I believe there are two reasons, in addition to the others, for your attitude. You started your career with success, with eclat, and now every- thing that appears commonplace and humdrum to you causes dissatisfaction and annoyance. That's one. Second, a literary man cannot live in the provinces with impunity. No matter what you may have to say on this score, you have partaken of literature and are already hopelessly infected. You are a literary man, and a literary man you will remain. His natural habitat is always close to literary circles, living among those who write, and breathing literature. Don't struggle against nature, yield to it once and for all and move to St. Petersburg or Moscow. Quarrel with literary people, don't recognize them, despise half of them, but live with them. . . .
Keep well, I firmly clasp your hand and wish you everything good. Don't give way to fits of despondency.
Yours,
A. Chekhov
July 22, 1899, Yalta
Dear Masha,
This is in answer to your letter. I am arriving in Moscow not later than the second of August. But why are you waiting for me to come? Certainly I left you the power of attorney, and we can't sell the property together—it must be sold by one of us alone. I do not propose to sell it and will not negotiate with Morel; if you cannot or will not go on with it (although it's not a complicated matter at all), let's give it to someone else. The price depends entirely on you. Go ahead and sell it for i5,ooo— I won't argue with you. Knipper is here, she is very sweet, but is depressed. The building is coming along nicely. Keep well. If you don't want to exercise the power of attorney, entrust it to someone, even a person like Vinogradov. Knipper likes your room very much. It isnt a room, but a bit of magic.
The packing job on the sideboard was schwach—everything was broken.
The armchair arrived in good condition.
To MARIA CHEKHOVA
August 29,1899, Yalta
Dear Masha,
Here are the details. The kitchen is already done and Maryusha's room as well. The parquet is being laid in your room. They wanted to hang the wallpaper but I told them to wait with it until you arrived. l\'lother's and my rooms will be ready by the first of September, i.e., the flooring and wallpaper and window fittings will be in. . . . I am living in the wing and have fixed myself up cozily. The place is cramped with all the stuff and your cupboard, where I keep my underwear, has ren- dered great service.
All the things arrived intact. The table linen is in good con- dition, undamaged, and there are lots of towels. The cupboard reached hcre safely.
They are also not going to touch the walls in the entrance hall until your arrival. Only Mama and I will have wallpaper. The waterproofing is being rushed through. The water in the well is good. . . .
Bear in mind that there are a great many passengers on the train and steamboat. \Vhen you get to Sevastopol don't wait until the baggage is distributed, but hire a cabman immediately and then do your waiting seated in the carriage . . . . The tariff from the wharf is seventy-five kopeks including baggage. One cab will be enough, as they have two- and four-seaters here. I will meet you at the quay and Mustapha will take care of the luggage. . . .
It is morning now and I have had my coffee. The alcohol stove works very well. We get our milk from our neighbors at ten kopeks a bottle. Although our yard is not particularly large, we can find enough room for chickens.
I won't get any money until Deccmber and must get busy.
Our ground is line for growing clover. If you can manage bring a pound of it with you and the same quantity of timothy and lucerne.
Yesterday I became a member of the Consumers' Society which runs a grocery and liquor store; I took out fifty rubles worth of shares. Now all our goods can be delivered to the house. In a few days I am installing a telephone. . . .
So—I hope you are well. Love to Mama. I am in good health.
Your Antoine
To OLGA KNIPPER
September 1899, Yalta
Sweet actress,
I am answering all your questions. I arrived safely. My fellow travelers ceded me a lower seat, then matters were so arranged that only two of us remained in the compartment: I and a young Armenian. I drank tea a number of times a day, three glasses each time, with lemon, sedately and leisurely. I ate up every- thing in the basket. But I find that fussing with a basket lunch and dashing out at the stations for boiling water for tea is an unbecoming procedure that undermines the prestige of the Art Theatre.
It was cold until Kursk, then it warmed up gradually and by the time we reached Sevastopol it was quite hot. In Yalta I went straight to my own home, where I am now living, guarded by the faithful Mustapha. I don't have a regular dinner every day, since it is a long distance to the city and again my prestige in- hibits me from fussing around with the oil stove in the kitchen; so I eat bread and cheese in the evenings.
. . . I am not drinking Narzan water. What more? I don't go to the park but stay home most of the time and think of you. Driving past Bakchisarai I thought of you and recalled our journey together. My precious, unusual actress, my wonderful woman, if you could only know how happy your letter made me! I bow down before you, bow low, so low that my forehead is touching the bottom of my well, which to date has been dug to a depth of forty feet. I have got used to you and miss you so much now that I cannot reconcile myself to the thought that I shan't be seeing you until spring; I am in a bad humor; and, in short, if Nadenkai only knew what is going on in my soul, there would be quite a scandal!
The Yalta weather has been splendid, but for no good reason we have had pouring rain for the past two days, now it is muddy and we must wear overshoes. The humidity is such that centi- pedes crawl along the walls and toads and young crocodiles dis- port themselves in the garden. The green reptile in the flower- pot you gave me which I carried here without mishap is repos- ing in the garden now and basking in the sun. . . .
1 Nadenka was an imaginary lady, a joke between Chekhov and Knipper; sometimes she was a jealous fiancĉe, sometimes a stern wife.
Well, then, let me press your hand and kiss it. Keep in good health, be gay and happy; work, cavort, amuse yourself, sing, and if possible don't forget the minor author and your assiduous admirer,
A. Chekhov.
To MAXIM GORKI
September j, /8gg, Ya/ta
My dear Alexei JI.Iaximovich,
Grectings once again! This is in answer to your letter. To start with, I am opposed in principle to dedicating books to living people, whoever they may be. I once did so and now feel maybe I shouldn't have. This is a general observation. Get- ting down to particulars, I could only considcr your dedication of "Foma Gordeyev" to me as a pleasure and honor. But why do I dcserve it? However, it's for you to make up your mind and for me just to thank you humbly. If possible don't put in any- thing fancy, i.e., just say "dedicated to so and so" and that's all. . . . Here is some more practical advice for you, if you want it: make it a big edition, not less than five or six thousand copies. The book will sell fast. You can have the second edition printed along with the first.