Letters of Anton Chekhov (Tchekhov) - Penn State University

Anton ChekhovTO MADAME KISELYOV.THE BANK OF THE IRTYSH, May 7, 1890.My greetings, honoured Marya Vladimirovna! I meant to writeyou a farewell letter from Moscow, but I had not time; I write toyou now sitting in a hut on the bank of the Irtysh.It is night. This is how I have come to be here. I am driving acrossthe plain of Siberia. I have already driven 715 versts; I have beentransformed from head to foot into a great martyr. This morning akeen cold wind began blowing, and it began drizzling with the mostdetestable rain. I must observe that there is no spring yet in Siberia.The earth is brown, the trees are bare, and there are white patches ofsnow wherever one looks; I wear my fur coat and felt overboots dayand night …. Well, the wind has been blowing since early morning…. Heavy leaden clouds, dull brown earth, mud, rain, wind ….Brrr! I drive on and on …. I drive on endlessly, and the weatherdoes not improve. Towards evening I am told at the station I can’tgo on further, as everything is under water, the bridges have beencarried away, and so on. Knowing how fond these drivers are offrightening one with the elements so as to keep the traveller for thenight (it is to their interest), I did not believe them, and orderedthem to harness the three horses; and now—alas for me!—I hadnot driven more than five versts when I saw the land on the bank ofthe Irtysh all covered with great lakes, the road disappeared underwater, and the bridges on the road really had been swept away orhad decayed. I was prevented from turning back partly by obstinacyand partly by the desire to get out of these dreary parts as quickly aspossible. We began driving through the lakes …. My God, I havenever experienced anything like it in my life! The cutting wind, thecold, the loathsome rain, and one had to get out of the chaise (not acovered one), if you please, and hold the horses: at each little bridgeone could only lead the horses over one at a time …. What had Icome to? Where was I? All around, desert, dreariness; the bare sullenbank of the Irtysh in sight …. We drive into the very biggestlake. Now I should be glad to turn back, but it is not easy …. Wedrive on a long strip of land ... the strip comes to an end—we go145