Thank you for the words about Tolstoy. . . . Vladimir Nemi- rovich and his spouse are in Nice. In comparison with other women here she seems utterly banal, like the wife of a small- town storekeeper. She is buying the devil knows what, as cheaply as she can get the stuff. I am sorry she is with him. He is as ever a fine person, and good company.
We had a cold spell but now it is warm and we are wearing our summer coats. I won five hundred francs at roulette. May I play, my love?
I was in such a hurry with the last act, thinking you people needed it. But it seems you won't begin rehearsing before Nemirovich's return. If I could only have kept this act another two or three days, I daresay it would have been much more meaty. . . .
Have you fully recovered? It's about time! Although you are a nice little girl even when you are ill, and write nice letters, just the same don't you dare get sick again.
I dine at the same table with a great many ladies, some of
To KONSTANTIN STANISLAVSKI [/gO/]
them from Moscow, but I won't exchange even half a word with them. I sit there and sulk in silence, eat stubbornly or think of you. Once in a while the Moscow ladies turn the talk to the theatre in an obvious effort to draw me into the conversa- tion, but I maintain my silence and keep on eating. I am always gratified to hear you praised. And you are very highly praised! They talk about you as a good actress. Well, little miss, keep healthy and happy. I am yours! Just take and eat me with olive oil and vinegar. A big kiss.
Your Antoine
To KONSTANTIN STANISLAVSKI
january 2, rgor, Nice
Dear Konstantin Sergeyevich,
I received the letter sent on the twenty-third of December only yesterday. . . .
I wish you a Happy New Year, and, if I may hope, a new theatre, which you will soon start building. And I wish you about five new and magnificent plays. As to that old play, "The Three Sisters," reading it at the Countess'1 evening party is absolutely forbidden under any circumstances. For God's sake, I beg of you, don't read it, not by any means, nor in any manner, otherwise you will cause me a great deal of anguish.
I sent Act IV off long ago, before Christmas, addressed to Vladimir Ivanovich. I have made a great many changes. You tell me that in Act III, when N atasha makes the rounds of the house at night, she extinguishes the lights and looks for evil- doers under the furniture. But it seems to me it would be pre- ferable to have her walk across the stage in a straight line with- out looking at anything or anybody, a la Lady Macbeth, with a candle—that way the scene would be shorter and more blood- curdling. . . .
1 Tolstoy's wife, who was arranging a charity soirĉe.
Thank you with all my heart for the letter which gave me such joy. I warmly clasp your hand.
Yours,
A. Chekhov
T0 JOASAPH TIKHOMIROV1
January 14, 1901, Nice
Dear Joasaph Alexandr0vich,
I have just received your letter—you have given me great pleasure and I thank you enormously. Here are the answers to your questions:
Irina does not know that Tuzenbach is having a duel, but surmises that something went wrong that may have grave, not to say tragic, consequences. And when a woman guesses, she says, "I knew it, I knew it."
Chebutykin only sings the words, ""Vould it not please you to accept this date . . ." These are words from an operetta which was given some time ago at the Hermitage. I don't re- member its title, but you can make inquiries, if you wish, from Shechtel the architect (private house, near the Yermolayev Church). Chebutykin must not sing anything else or his exit will be too prolonged.
Solyoni actually believes he looks like Lermontov; but of course he doesn't—it is silly even to consider a resemblance. He should be made up to look like Lermontov. The likeness to Lermontov is immense, but only in the opinion of Solyoni him- self.
Forgive me if I haven't answered as I should, or satisfied you. There is nothing new with me, all goes along in the old way. I will probably return earlier than I thought, and it is very possible that in March I will already be at home, i.e., in Yalta.
Nobody writes me anything about the play; Nemirovich- Danchenko never said a word about it when he was here and
1 This letter refers, of course, to the characters in The Three Sisters.
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it seemed to me it bored him and wouldn't be successful. Your letter, for which I thank you, helped to dispel my melancholy. . . . I wish you good health and all the best.
Yours,
A. Chekhov
To KONSTANTIN STANISLAVSKI
January 15, igoi, Nice
Dear Konstantin Sergeyevich,
Many thanks for your letter. Of course you are a thousand times right, it wouldn't do at all to show Tuzenbach's body. I myself felt it when I wrote the play and spoke to you of it, if you will recall. That the finale reminds one of "Uncle Vanya" is a minor evil. "Uncle Vanya" happens to be my own play, and not someone else's, and when you are reminiscent of yourself in your works, people will say that is the way it should be. Chebutykin doesn't talk, but sings the phrase, "Would it not please you to accept this date." It is from an operetta, I don't remember which one, not if my life depended on it. . . .
Many thanks for having written. My sincere compliments to Maria Petrovna and all the artists, and I wish you all the best. Keep well and happy.
Yours,
A. Chekhov
To MARIA ANDREYEVA
January 26, igoi, Nice
Dear Maria Fyodorovna,
It was not I who sent you the flowers, but please let us assume that I did, for otherwise my embarrassment and anguish will be boundless. I cannot express the joy your letter caused me. My heartiest thanks, and you can now consider me forever in your debt.
You write that I made you unhappy on my last visit, that I was afraid of speaking frankly, as it were, about "The Three Sisters," etc., etc. Merciful Heavens! I wasn't afraid of speaking frankly, I was afraid of intruding on you and purposely said nothing and restrained myself as much as possible, so as not to interfere with your work. If I were in Moscow I would certainly not undertake to make remarks except after the tenth rehearsal, and then, as a matter of fact, only on minor points. People write me from Moscow that you are magnificent in "The Three Sis- ters," that your performance is downright marvelous, and I am glad—very, very glad—and may God give you strength! Con- sider me your debtor, that is all.
Today I am departing for Algiers, will remain there a couple of weeks and then leave for Russia. I very much regret that you will be performing in St. Petersburg, since I do not like the city and do not rate its tastes very high. My respects and regards to your husband and the children. Keep nice and healthy, and may the heavenly angels guard you.
Devotedly,
A. Chekhov
To OLGA KNIPPER
March i, 1901, Yalta
My dear one,
Don't read the newspapers, don't read anything, or you will pine away altogether. Here is some sound advice for future reference: heed the words of your old holy hermit. Certainly I told you, I assured you, that things wouldn't go well in St. Petersburg—and you should have listened to me. At any rate, your theatre will never again visit the place—thank God.
Personally I am giving up the theatre entirely, and will never again write for it. It is possible to write for the stage in Ger- many, in Sweden, even in Spain, but not in Russia, where dramatic authors are not respected, are kicked around and are forgiven neither their successes nor their failures. You are being abused now for the first time in your life, which accounts for your sensitiveness, but it will pass away with time, and you'll get used to such treatment. But imagine the divine, sublime feelings of Sanin.i He probably has his pockets crammed with reviews and looks upon the rest of you most superciliously. . . .