Letters of Anton Chekhov to his Family and Friends | Page 4

took it off the stage. Several
years later he completely remodelled it and produced it as "Uncle
Vanya" at the Art Theatre in Moscow. At this time he was writing a
long novel, of which he often dreamed aloud, and which he liked to
talk about. He was for several years writing at this novel, but no doubt
finally destroyed it, as no trace of it could be found after his death. He
wanted it to embody his views on life, opinions which he expressed in a
letter to Plestcheyev in these words:
"I am not a Liberal, not a Conservative.... I should have liked to have
been a free artist and nothing more--and I regret that God has not given

me the strength to be one. I hate lying and violence in all their
forms--the most absolute freedom, freedom from force and fraud in
whatever form the two latter may be expressed, that is the programme I
would hold to if I were a great artist."
At this time he was always gay and insisted on having people round
him while he worked. His little house in Moscow, which "looked like a
chest of drawers," was a centre to which people, and especially young
people, flocked in swarms. Upstairs they played the piano, a hired one,
while downstairs he sat writing through it all. "I positively can't live
without visitors," he wrote to Suvorin; "when I am alone, for some
reason I am frightened." This gay life which seemed so full of promise
was, however, interrupted by violent fits of coughing. He tried to
persuade other people, and perhaps himself, that it was not serious, and
he would not consent to be properly examined. He was sometimes so
weak from haemorrhage that he could see no one, but as soon as the
attack was over his mood changed, the doors were thrown open,
visitors arrived, there was music again, and Chekhov was once more in
the wildest spirits.
The summers of those two years, 1888 and 1889, he spent with his
family in a summer villa at Luka, in the province of Harkov. He was in
ecstasies beforehand over the deep, broad river, full of fish and crayfish,
the pond full of carp, the woods, the old garden, and the abundance of
young ladies. His expectations were fulfilled in every particular, and he
had all the fishing and musical society he could wish for. Soon after his
arrival Plestcheyev came to stay with him on a month's visit.
He was an old man in feeble health, but attractive to everyone. Young
ladies in particular were immediately fascinated by him. He used to
compose his works aloud, sometimes shouting at the top of his voice,
so that Chekhov would run in and ask him if he wanted anything. Then
the old man would give a sweet and guilty smile and go on with his
work. Chekhov was in constant anxiety about the old man's health, as
he was very fond of cakes and pastry, and Chekhov's mother used to
regale him on them to such an extent that Anton was constantly having
to give him medicine. Afterwards Suvorin, the editor of Novoye

Vremya, came to stay. Chekhov and he used to paddle in a canoe,
hollowed out of a tree, to an old mill, where they would spend hours
fishing and talking about literature.
Both the grandsons of serfs, both cultivated and talented men, they
were greatly attracted by each other. Their friendship lasted for several
years, and on account of Suvorin's reactionary opinions, exposed
Chekhov to a great deal of criticism in Russia. Chekhov's feelings for
Suvorin began to change at the time of the Dreyfus case, but he never
broke entirely with him. Suvorin's feelings for Chekhov remained
unchanged.
In the spring of 1889 his brother Nikolay, the artist, fell ill with
consumption, and his illness occupied Anton entirely, and completely
prevented his working. That summer Nikolay died, and it was under the
influence of this, his first great sorrow, that Chekhov wrote "A Dreary
Story." For several months after the death of his brother he was
extremely restless and depressed.
In 1890 his younger brother Mihail was taking his degree in law at
Moscow, and studying treatises on the management of prisons.
Chekhov got hold of them, became intensely interested in prisons, and
resolved to visit the penal settlement of Sahalin. He made up his mind
to go to the Far East so unexpectedly that it was difficult for his family
to believe that he was in earnest.
He was afraid that after Kennan's revelations about the penal system in
Siberia, he would, as a writer, be refused permission to visit the prisons
in Sahalin, and therefore tried to get a free pass from the head of the
prison