Letter · 1877

To M. M. Chekhov, 4 November 1877. Taganrog.

M. M. Чехову, 4 ноября 1877 г. Таганрог.

Headnote

This is the earliest of Chekhov’s letters to survive, written when he was seventeen and still at the gymnasium in Taganrog, the provincial port town on the Sea of Azov where the family had lived since before his birth. By late 1877 the rest of the household – his parents and most of his siblings, including Mikhail, the addressee here – had already left for Moscow, driven out by his father Pavel Yegorovich’s bankruptcy the previous year. Anton stayed behind alone to finish his schooling, supporting himself on tutoring fees and sending money to Moscow rather than the other way around, an arrangement that would mark his sense of family duty for the rest of his life.

The occasion is Mikhail’s name day (Archangel Michael’s feast, 8 November by the old calendar, though Chekhov writes a few days early), and the letter has the stiff, formulaic warmth of a schoolboy dutifully performing an epistolary genre he has not yet made his own – the tricolon of health, money, and family happiness, borrowed wholesale from greeting-card convention. But the real content is underneath the form: an apology for long silence, a joke about his "secret illness" being simply having no money, and the flat, repeated word скука – boredom, deadly boredom – that will recur throughout his life’s correspondence and eventually give a title to one of his best-known stories. Taganrog, provincial and theatre-poor by comparison with the Moscow he has evidently only visited, already reads to him as a place to escape.

The letter closes with the addressee block reproduced as Chekhov wrote it on the envelope: not a modern postal address but the older Russian convention of naming the recipient and the promise of personal delivery – "into his own hands" – the kind of note attached to a letter carried by an acquaintance rather than trusted to the post alone.

4 November 1877. Taganrog.
4 ноября 1877 г. Таганрог.
Taganrog, 4 November 1877.
Таганрог, 4-го ноября 1877 года.
I have the pleasure of congratulating you on your name day and wishing you everything that can be best on earth; I wish you, first, health, second, a heap of money, and third, good speed in everything and happiness to your whole family, which is dearer to you than anything in the world, as ours is to me. I am guilty, brother, before you with my whole being, very guilty, and I ask your forgiveness. I have not written to you for want of time, of which I feel a shortage. I received the photograph and am very grateful. You and sister Liza are very alike, Grisha too. So I am in your debt. I am well, and if I am well, then I am alive; I have only one secret illness, which torments me like a toothache – that is, no money. It has been a long time since I have had letters from Moscow, either from our parents or from you. And the boredom is deadly! How are you getting on? Write, please! Thank you for the greeting you sent me in your letter to Uncle Mitrofan Yegorovich. Here in Taganrog there is nothing new, absolutely nothing! Deadly boredom! I was recently at the Taganrog theatre and compared that theatre with yours in Moscow. A great difference! And between Moscow and Taganrog a great difference. If only I finish the gymnasium, I will fly to Moscow on wings – I liked it very much!
Имею счастье поздравить тебя с днем твоего ангела и пожелать тебе всего того, что может быть лучшим на земле; желаю тебе, во-первых, здоровья, во-вторых, кучу денег, а в-третьих, во всем благое поспешение и счастья всей твоей семье, которая для тебя дороже всего на свете, как и наша семья – мне. Виноват, брат, я пред тобою всем существом своим, очень виноват и прошу извинения. Не писал я тебе за неимением времени, в котором я чувствую недостаток. Карточку я получил и очень благодарен. Ты и сестра Лиза очень похожи, Гриша тоже. Я у тебя, значит, в долгу. Я здоров, а коли здоров, то, значит, и жив; одна у меня только болезнь секретная, которая мучит меня, как зубная боль,– это безденежье. Давно уж я не получал писем из Москвы ни от родителей, ни от тебя. А скука смертельная! Как ты поживаешь? Напиши, пожалуйста! Спасибо за поклон, который ты прислал мне в письме к дяде Митрофану Егоровичу. У нас в Таганроге нет ничего нового, решительно ничего! Смертельная скука! Был я недавно в таганрогском театре и сравнил этот театр с вашим московским. Большая разница! И между Москвой и Таганрогом большая разница. Если только кончу гимназию, то прилечу в Москву на крыльях, она мне очень понравилась!
Write to me, if you have time, a letter, and I will be very grateful to you. Is it true that they have taken Apollon Ivanovich for a soldier? That is a nasty business, very nasty. Aunt Fedosya Yakovlevna is very grateful to you for troubling yourself about Alyosha. Write, please, how you are living, how your family is getting on, which will oblige me greatly. Well, how did brother Vanya strike you? Give my greeting to Grisha, Elizaveta Mikhailovna, and Alexandra Mikhailovna, and tell them I wish them every well-being from my soul. Bow to your colleagues at your post. Do not leave me, brother, without letters, and forgive my long silence.
Напиши мне, если будет время, письмо, и я тебе буду очень благодарен. Правда ли, что Аполлона Ивановича в солдаты взяли? Это скверная штука, очень скверная. Тетка Федосья Яковлевна очень тебе благодарна за то, что ты хлопочешь об Алеше. Напиши, пожалуйста, как ты живешь, как поживает твоя семья, чем премного меня обяжешь. Ну, что, каким тебе показался брат Ваня? Передай поклон Грише, Елизавете Михайловне и Александре Михайловне и скажи им, что я желаю от души им всякого благополучия. Кланяйся своим товарищам по должности. Не оставляй же, брат, меня без писем и извини за долгое молчание.
Be alive and well.
Будь жив и здоров.
Your brother A. Chekhov.
Брат твой А. Чехов.
On the reverse:
На обороте:
To M. M. Chekhov. Into his own hands.
M. M. Чехову. В собственные руки.

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To M. M. Chekhov, 4 November 1877. Taganrog.

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