Anton Chekhov.
To OLGA KNIPPER
August 21, 1901, Sevastopol My sweet, my darling, my g00d wife,
I have just got out of bed, have had my coffee and am cocking an ear to the noise of the wind with a certain amount of alarm. I dare say the crossing will be a violent one. My darling, buy 1 lb. of raffia in some shop, even if it is only Lisitsin's and send it to me in Yalta. You can't get any here in Sevastopol. \Vith it enclose about five cords for my pince-nez. Put in anything else you like, but try to manage not to have the parcel weigh more than two pounds.
I shall leave for Yalta and await your letter there. Don't be lonesome, little one, don't get sick or blue, don't be cross, but be gay and laugh—it suits you very well.
love you very much and will always love you. 1\Iy greetings to all your family. I kiss you firmly a hundred times, embrace
Cousins.
you tenderly and am sketching in my imagination various pic- tures in which you and I figure, and nobody and nothing else. Goodbye, my darling, farewell!
Your boss Anton
To OLGA KNIPPER
August 28, /go/, Ya/<a
My kitten, my little kitten,
I just got your letter, read it through twice—and kiss you a thousand times. I like the plan of the apartment, and will show it to Masha (she left to see Dunya Konowitzer off on the boat) ; everything is very nice, only why did you put "Anton's study" next to a certain place? Want to get beaten up?
Here are answers to your questions. I am sleeping splendidly [. . . ] my "innards" have been in running order thus far, and I haven't rubbed my neck with Eau de Cologne—forgot to. Yesterday I washed my head.
Yesterday I was at Orlenev's and was introduced to Mme Leventon;1 they share an apartment.
Masha is bringing you some almonds from our tree. You can see what kind of husband I am; I write you every day, in the most exemplary fashion. I am so lonesome without you! . . . It seems to me I have become a regular middle-class householder and cannot live without a wife. . . .
Behave yourself properly, or I'll beat you until it hurts. Write, sweetie, don't be a lazybones.
Your Ant.
To OLGA KNIPPER
September 4, /gor, Ya/<a
See all the trouble I go to /or you!
With this passport you can live as you please wherever you please, with a husband or without such a character. Except that
1 Mme. Leventon was Alla Nazimova.
you must: (1) sign "Olga Chekhova" on page 6, and (2) regis- ter with the Yalta police that you have received it; you can do this the next time you are in Yalta. So, you see, you are now a regular Yaltan, until the brink of the wave. At first I was in- clined to put you down as the wife of an "honorary academi- cian," but then decided it was incomparably pleasanter being the wife of a medical man.
Live placidly and generously, be a loving soul, and then I will kiss you every day. They tell me "The Three Sisters" was presented in Odessa with great success. I had my hair cut today, washed my head, trimmed by beard, took a walk along the promenade, then dined at home with Dr. Reformatski.
Write every day, or I'll take your passport away. Generally speaking, I intend keeping you strictly in line, so that you will fear and obey me. I'll give it to you!
Your severe husband,
A. Chekhov
Even though I haven't seen our apartment, you speak so well of it that I am satisfied with it sight unseen, very well satisfied, my sweet. Thank you for all the trouble you have taken, God bless you.
To MAXIM GORKI
October 22, i90i, Moscow
My dear Alexei Maximovich,
Five days have gone by since I read your play* and I haven't written you until now for the reason that I just couldn't get hold of Act IV; I kept on waiting—and still am. And so I have only read the three acts, but I think they are sufficient to judge the play. As I anticipated, it is very good, written with the true Gorki touch, a singular thing, very engrossing, and if I may begin by speaking of its defects, I have thus far noted only one,
1 The play was Gorki's Small Folk.
irremediable, like a redhead's red hair—and that is its con- servatism of form. You force new, strange people to sing new songs from a score that looks second-hand; you have four acts, your characters deliver moral lectures, the long-drawn-out pas- sages cause dismay, and so on. But all this is not basically im- portant and is submerged, so to say, in the play's merits. How alive Perchikhin is! His daughter is fascinating and so are Tatiana and Peter, and their mother is an admirable old lady. The play's central figure—Nil—is powerfuly done and extraor- dinarily interesting! In brief, the play grips one from the start. Only, God save you from allowing anyone except Artem to play Perchikhin, and have Stanislavski play Nil without fail. These two people will do them exactly right. Peter should be played by Meierhold. Except that Nil's part, a magnificent one, should be made two or three times longer, the play should end with it and be built around it. Don't contrast Nil with Peter and Tatiana, though, just let him stand on his own feet, and them on theirs; all these remarkable, splendid people, independent of one another. . . .
Plenty of time remains before the staging, and you will man- age to revise your play a good ten times over. What a pity that I have to leave! I would sit in on the rehearsals and send you word whenever it was needed.
On Friday I leave for Yalta. Keep well, and God keep you. My deepest respects to Ekaterina Pavlovna and the children. Let me give you a friendly handclasp and embrace you.
Yours,
A. Chekhov
T0 OLGA KNIPPER
N0vember 2, 1901, Yalta
My sweet little pup, greetings!
... I am in good health, but yesterday and the day before, since the day of my return, in fact, I have been out of sorts and yesterday had to take some ol. ricini. But I am very happy that you are well and merry, my precious, it makes my heart easier. And how terribly I want you now to have a little half-German i to divert you, to fill your life. It should be so, my darling little one! What do you say?
Gorki will soon be passing through Moscow. He wrote me he was leaving Nizhni on the tenth of November. He has prom- ised to revise your part in the play, i.e., give it broader range, has promised a lot generally, and I am extremely happy about it, because it is my belief revisions will not make his play worse, but much better, more rounded.
. . . I haven't been at Tolstoy's2 yet, but am going there to- morrow. People say he is feeling well.
Olya, my dear wife, congratulate me: I have had a haircut!! Yesterday my boots were cleaned—the first time since my ar- rival. My clothes haven't yet had a cleaning. But on the other hand I have been changing my tie every day, and yesterday I washed my head . . . .
I am sending you the announcement from Prague on "Uncle Vanya." I keep on wondering what to send you and can't think of a thing. I am living like a monk and dream only of of you. Although it is shameful making declarations of love at forty, I cannot restrain myself, little pup, from telling you once again that I love you deeply and tenderly.
I kiss you, embrace you and press you close.
Keep healthy, happy and gay. Your Antoine
T0 OLGA KNIPPER
N0vember 9, 1901, YaZ<a