Letters of Anton Chekhov (Tchekhov) - Penn State University

Anton Chekhovthe river Donets at the foot of a huge white rock covered with gardens,oaks, and ancient pines crowded together and over-hanging,one above another. It seems as if the trees had not enough room onthe rock, and as if some force were driving them upwards.... Thepines literally hang in the air and look as though they might fall anyminute. Cuckoos and nightingales sing night and day.The monks, very pleasant people, gave me a very unpleasant roomwith a pancake-like mattress. I spent two nights at the monasteryand gathered a mass of impressions. While I was there some fifteenthousand pilgrims assembled because of St. Nicolas’ Day; eightninthsof them were old women. I did not know before that therewere so many old women in the world; had I known, I would haveshot myself long ago. About the monks, my acquaintance with themand how I gave medical advice to the monks and the old women, Iwill write to the Novoye Vremya and tell you when we meet. Theservices are endless: at midnight they ring for matins, at five forearly mass, at nine for late mass, at three for the song of praise, atfive for vespers, at six for the special prayers. Before every serviceone hears in the corridors the weeping sound of a bell, and a monkruns along crying in the voice of a creditor who implores his debtorto pay him at least five kopecks for a rouble:“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon us! Please come to matins!”It is awkward to stay in one’s room, and so one gets up and goesout. I have chosen a spot on the bank of the Donets, where I sitduring all the services.I have bought an ikon for Auntie.* The food is provided gratis bythe monastery for all the fifteen thousand: cabbage soup with driedfresh-water fish and porridge. Both are good, and so is the rye bread.The church bells are wonderful. The choir is not up to much. Itook part in a religious procession on boats.*Translator’s Note: His mother’s sister.63