Anton Chekhov - The Undiscovered Chekhov

T ELEGRAM
Have been drinking to Sarahs health all week! Enchanting! She actually dies standing up! Our actors cant touch the Parisians! Sitting there, you feel youre in Paradise! Regards to Mankya.

Petrov

T ELEGRAM

Lieutenant Egorov. Come, you can have my ticket Im not going again. Its just rubbish. Nothing special. A waste of money.

F ROM D R. K LOPSON, M.D.,

TO D R. V ERFLUCHTERSCHWEIN, M.D.

Dear friend. Last night I saw S.B. Her chestparalytic and flat. Skeletal and muscular structureunsatisfactory. Neckso long and thin that both the venae jugulares and even the arteriae carotides are clearly visible. Her musculi sternocleido-mastoidei are barely noticeable. Sitting in second row orchestra I could detect clear signs of anemia. No cough. On stage she was all wrapped up, which led me to deduce that she must be feverish. My diagnosis: anemia and atrophia musculorum. What is quite amazing is that her lachrymal glands react to voluntary stimuli: Tears flowed from her eyes, and her nose showed signs of hyperemia whenever she was called upon to weep.

F ROM N ADIA N. TO K ATYA H.

Dear Katya. Last night I went to the theater and saw Sera Burnyard. Oh Katya, how many diamonds that woman has! All night I cried at the thought that Ill never ever own such a heap of diamonds. (Ill tell you later all about her dress). Oh how Id love to be Sera Burnyard! They were drinking real champagne on stage! But what was strange Katya I speak excellent French but I didnt get a word they were saying. Their French was funny. I had to sit in the gallery! That monster of mine couldnt get me a better ticket. The monster! Now

I regret I was so cold to S. on Monday, he could have got orchestra seats. S. will do anything for a kiss. Just to spite that monster, tomorrow Ill have S. get both you and me a ticket.

Your N.

F ROM A NEWSPAPER EDITOR TO A REPORTER

Ivan Mikhailovitch! This is an abomination! Every evening you traipse down to the theater with a press ticket, and I have yet to see a single line about the show! What are you waiting for? Right now Sarah Bernhardt is the hottest and we need to cover her now. For Gods sake, get a move on!

Answer: I dont quite know what to write. Should I praise her? Lets see what everyone else writestimes on our side.

Yours, K.

P.S. Ill be at the office today, get my pay ready. If you want the press tickets back, send someone over.

L ETTER SENT BY M ISS N. TO THE SAME REPORTER

You are a darling, Ivan Mikhailovitch! Thank you for the ticket! I have feasted my eyes on Sarah, and I absolutely insist that you praise her to the skies. Can you check with your office to see if my sister can also get a press ticket? Ill be most grateful to you.

Your N.

Answer: It can be done... but there will be a slight fee. The fee is minimal: permission to visit you on Saturday.

T O THE NEWSPAPER EDITOR FROM HIS WIFE

If you dont send me a ticket for Sarah Bernhardt tonight, dont bother coming home. Its quite obvious your reporters are more important to you than your own wife. I want to go to the theater!

F ROM THE NEWSPAPER EDITOR TO HIS WIFE

Please, dear! Be reasonable! As it is, this whole Sarah Bernhardt business is driving me to distraction!

F ROM AN USHERS NOTEBOOK

Let in four. Fourteen rubles.

Let in five. Fifteen r.

Let in three and one madame. Fifteen rubles.

Thank God I didnt go to the theater and that I sold that ticket I had. I heard Sarah Bernhardt played in French. I wouldnt have understood a word...

Major Kovalyov

Dear Mitya! I beg of you! Can you ask your wife, tactfully, to enthuse more quietly about Sarah Bernhardts dresses when shes with us in the box? At the last performance she was whispering so loud that I couldnt hear a word of what was being said on stage. Please ask her, but tactfully. Id be most obliged.

Your U.

F ROM THE S LAVOPHILE K. TO HIS SON

My dear son. I opened my eyes and saw omens of depravity all around! Thousands of Russian Orthodox Christians heralding a union with the peoplethronging to the theater to lay their gold at the feet of that Jewess... Liberals, Conservatives...!

A NOTE

Darling! When it comes to Sarah Bernhardt, as the saying goes: you can dip a frog in honey but it doesnt mean Ill eat it.

Sobakevitch

T HE POST TRAIN RACES full speed from the Happy- Trach-Tararach station to the Run-for-Your-Life station. The locomotive whistles, hisses, puffs, snorts; the cars shake, and their unoiled wheels howl like wolves and screech like owls! Darkness is over the skies, over the earth, and in the cars... Something-will-happen, something-will-happen, the wagons hammer, raiding with age. Ohohohoho! the locomotive joins in. Pocket-friskers and cold drafts sweep through the wagons. Terrible! I stick my head out the window and look aimlessly into the endless expanse. All the lights are green, but somewhere down the line Im sure all hell will break loose. The signal disk and the station lights are not yet visible. Darkness, anguish, thoughts of death, memories of childhood, oh God!

I have sinned! I whisper, I have sinned!

I feel a hand slip into my back pocket. The pocket is empty, but still its horrifying. I turn round. A stranger is standing next to me. He is wearing a straw hat and a dark gray shirt.

Can I help you? I ask him, patting my hands over my pockets.

No, Im just looking out the window! he answers, pulling back his hand and leaning against my back.

There is a powerful, ear-splitting whistle. The train slows and slows, and finally stops. I get out of the car and walk over to the station buffet for a drink to bolster my courage. The buffet is bustling with passengers and train workers.

A vodka, sweet and easy! the thickset chief conductor says, turning to a fat gentleman. The fat gentleman wants to say something but cant: his year-old sandwich is stuck in his throat.

Poli-i-i-ce! Poli-i-i-ce! someone outside on the platform is shouting, as in primordial times before the Deluge hungry mastodons, ichthyosaurs, and plesiosaurs would have bellowed. I go to see whats happening. A man with a cockade on his hat is standing outside one of the first-class cars, pointing to his feet. Someone had swiped the poor mans shoes and socks while he was sleeping.

What am I going to do? he shouts. I have to go all the way to Revel! Can you believe this?

A policeman, standing in front of him, informs him, Its against the rules to shout here. I climb back into my car, number 224. Its exactly like it was: dark, the sound of snoring, tobacco, and soot in the airthe smell of Mother Russia. A red-haired inspector traveling to Kiev from Ryazan is snoring next to me... a few feet away from him a pretty girl is dozing... a peasant in a straw hat snorts, puffs, changes position, and doesnt know where to put his long legs... in the corner someone is munching, and loudly smacking his lips. Under the benches people lie in deep sleep. The door creaks. Two wrinkly little old women come hobbling in with bundles on their backs...

Here! Lets sit here! one of them says. Ooh, its dark! Temptations from Below! Oops, I stepped on someone!... But where is Pakhom?

Pakhom? Oh, good gracious! Where has he got to now! Oh, good gracious!

The little old woman bustles about, opens the window, and looks up and down the platform.

Pa-a-a-khom! she brays. Where are you? Pakhom! Were over here!

I have a pro-o-o-blem! a voice calls from outside. They wont let me on!

They wont let you on? Cowshit! No one can stop you, you have a real ticket!

Theyve stopped selling tickets! The ticket office is closed!

Someone leads a horse up the platform. There is snorting, and hooves clatter.