Letters of Anton Chekhov (Tchekhov) - Penn State University

Anton Chekhov…. I remember the figure of the mail-driver, a man of varied experiences.I remember the little soldier who suddenly became as crimsonas cherry juice. I thought, if the boat upsets I will fling off myfur coat and my leather coat … then my felt boots, then … and soon …. But the bank came nearer and nearer, one’s soul felt easierand easier, one’s heart throbbed with joy, one heaved deep sighs asthough one could breathe freely at last, and leapt on the wet slipperybank …. Thank God!At Ilya Markovitch’s, the converted Jew’s, I was told that I couldnot drive at night; the road was bad; that I must remain till nextday. Very good, I stayed. After tea I sat down to write you this letter,interrupted by the visit of the “president.” The president is a richmixture of Nozdryov, Hlestakov and a cur. A drunkard, a rake, aliar, a singer, a story-teller, and with all that a good-natured man.He had brought with him a big trunk stuffed full of business papers,a bedstead and mattress, a gun, and a secretary. The secretaryis an excellent, well-educated man, a protesting liberal who has studiedin Petersburg, and is free in his ideas; I don’t know how he cameto Siberia, he is infected to the marrow of his bones with every sortof disease, and is taking to drink, thanks to his principal, who callshim Kolya. The representative of authority sends for a cordial. “Doctor,”he bawls, “drink another glass, I beseech you humbly!” Ofcourse, I drink it. The representative of authority drinks soundly,lies outrageously, uses shameless language. We go to bed. In themorning a cordial is sent for again. They swill the cordial till teno’clock and at last they go. The converted Jew, Ilya Markovitch,whom the peasants here idolize—so I was told—gave me horses todrive to Tomsk.The “president,” the secretary and I got into the same conveyance.All the way the “president” told lies, drank out of the bottle,boasted that he did not take bribes, raved about the scenery, andshook his fist at the tramps that he met. We drove fifteen versts,then halt! The village of Brovkino.... We stop near a Jew’s shop andgo to take “rest and refreshment.” The Jew runs to fetch us a cordialwhile his wife makes us some fish-soup, of which I have written toyou already. The “president” gave orders that the sotsky, the desyatsky,and the road contractor should come to him, and in his drunken-161