TO N. A. LEIKIN.

IRKUTSK,

June 5, 1890.

Greetings, dear Nikolay Alexandrovitch!

I send you heartfelt good wishes from Irkutsk, from the depths of Siberia.

I reached Irkutsk last night and was very glad to have arrived, as I was

exhausted by the journey and missed friends and relations, to whom I had

not written for ages. Well, what is there of interest to write to you? I

will begin by telling you that the journey is extraordinarily long. From

Tyumen to Irkutsk I have driven more than three thousand versts. From

Tyumen to Tomsk I had cold and flooded rivers to contend with. The cold was

awful; on Ascension Day there was frost and snow, so that I could not take

off my sheepskin and felt boots until I reached the hotel at Tomsk. As for

the floods, they were a veritable plague of Egypt. The rivers rose above

their banks and overflowed the meadows, and with them the roads, for dozens

of versts around. I was continually having to exchange my chaise for a

boat, and one could not get a boat for nothing--for a good boat one had to

pay with one’s heart’s blood, for one had to sit waiting on the bank for

twenty-four hours at a stretch in the cold wind and the rain.... From Tomsk

to Krasnoyarsk was a desperate struggle through impassable mud. My

goodness, it frightens me to think of it! How often I had to mend my

chaise, to walk, to swear, to get out of my chaise and get into it again,

and so on! It sometimes happened that I was from six to ten hours getting

from one station to another, and every time the chaise had to be mended it

took from ten to fifteen hours. From Krasnoyarsk to Irkutsk was fearfully

hot and dusty. Add to all that hunger, dust in one’s nose, one’s eyes glued

together with sleep, the continual dread that something would get broken in

the chaise (it is my own), and boredom.... Nevertheless I am well content,

and I thank God that He has given me the strength and opportunity to make

this journey. I have seen and experienced a great deal, and it has all been

very new and interesting to me not as a literary man, but as a human being.

The Yenissey, the Taiga, the stations, the drivers, the wild scenery, the

wild life, the physical agonies caused by the discomforts of the journey,

the enjoyment I got from rest--all taken together is so delightful that I

can’t describe it. The mere fact that I have been for more than a month in

the open air is interesting and healthy; every day for a month I have seen

the sunrise....

Letters of Anton Chekhov to His Family and Friends · 第 63 / 237 题