Letter · 1890

To the Chekhovs, 31 May 1890. Kansk.

ЧЕХОВЫМ, 31 мая 1890 г. Канск.

Headnote

1 Written on 31 May 1890 from Kansk, a town on the Trakt (post road) in central Siberia, this brief note to his sister Maria Pavlovna Chekhova belongs to the string of dispatches Chekhov sent home during his overland journey across Siberia to the penal colony on Sakhalin Island, which he had left Moscow to survey in April 1890. At this point he is still roughly 800 versts (about 850 km) short of Irkutsk, traveling by horse-drawn conveyance over roads that alternate between mud and ruts.

2 The letter is a short, wry travel note rather than a developed narrative: a play on the near-identical names of Kansk and Kainsk (two Siberian towns Chekhov jokes could be combined into one middling town, "Zvenigorod," a stock name for a nondescript provincial place), a report that borshch is about to be served, a note that a fellow traveler (an army officer) has a toothache, a vivid catalogue of the physical grime and exhaustion of the road (dust in his clothes, his trunk, his mouth), and a closing reassurance that he is alive, well, and that a brandy bottle given to him by Sofia Kuvshinnikova has survived the journey intact. It closes with the address panel from the reverse of the card, reproduced here as separate sections, addressed to Maria at the family’s summer address in Sumy, Kharkov province.

31 May 1890. Kansk.
31 мая 1890 г. Канск.
I am writing this from Kansk. There is also a Kainsk, but that one is before Tomsk, while this is simply Kansk, without the "i." The two together would make one Zvenigorod. A grey morning. We are about to eat borshch. One of my officer traveling companions has a toothache. The road is getting better, but we are still moving slowly. I will write to you from Irkutsk, which is still 800 versts off. Ah, how sick I am of this journey! How revolting it has become to look at my jacket furred with down, at my boots caked in mud, at my coat full of hay; there is tobacco dust, crumbs, and hay dust in my pockets, dust in my trunk, and, it seems, dust in my mouth as well. They have brought the borshch...
Пишу сие из Канска. Есть еще Каинск, но тот до Томска, а этот просто Канск, без и. Оба, вместе взятые, составят один Звенигород. Серое утро. Сейчас будем есть борщ. У одного из спутников офицеров болят зубы. Дорога становится лучше, но все-таки подвигаемся медленно. Буду вам писать из Иркутска, до которого осталось еще 800 верст. Ах! как опостылело ехать! Как противно становится глядеть на пиджак в пуху, на сапоги в грязи, на пальто в сене; в карманах пыль от табаку, крошек и сена, в чемодане пыль, во рту, кажется, тоже пыль. Принесли борщ...
I am alive, well, everything is intact. Even the Kuvshinnikova brandy bottle has still not broken. Well, keep quite well.
Я жив, здоров, всё цело. Даже кувшинниковская бутылка с коньяком еще не разбилась. Ну, будьте здоровехоньки.
Your Antoine.
Ваш Antoine.
On the reverse:
На обороте:

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