Note-Book of Anton Chekhov Part 21

The people hate and despise everything new and useful; when there was cholera, they hated and killed the doctors and they love vodka; by the people's love or hatred one can estimate the value of what they love or hate.

Looking out of the window at the corpse which is being borne to the cemetery: "You are dead, you are being carried to the cemetery, and I will go and have my breakfast."

A Tchech Vt.i.tchka.

A man, forty years old, married a girl of twenty-two who read only the very latest writers, wore green ribbons, slept on yellow pillows, and believed in her taste and her opinions as if they were law; she is nice, not silly, and gentle, but he separates from her.

When one longs for a drink, it seems as though one could drink a whole ocean--that is faith; but when one begins to drink, one can only drink altogether two gla.s.ses--that is science.

For a farce: Fildekosov, Poprygunov.

In former times a nice man, with principles, who wanted to be respected, would try to become a general or priest, but now he goes in for being a writer, professor....

There is nothing which history will not justify.

Zievoulia.[1]

[Footnote 1: A name or word invented by Chekhov meaning "One who yawns for a long time with pleasure."]

The crying of a nice child is ugly; so in bad verses you may recognize that the author is a nice man.

If you wish women to love you, be original; I know a man who used to wear felt boots summer and winter, and women fell in love with him.

I arrive at Yalta. Every room is engaged. I go to the "Italy"--not a room available. "What about my room number 35"--"It is engaged." A lady. They say: "Would you like to stay with this lady? The lady has no objection." I stay in her room. Conversation. Evening. The Tartar guide comes in. My ears are stopped, my eyes blindfolded; I sit and see nothing and hear nothing....

A young lady complains: "My poor brother gets such a small salary--only seven thousand!"

She: "I see only one thing now: you have a large mouth! A large mouth!

An enormous mouth!"

The horse is a useless and pernicious animal; a great deal of land has to be tilled for it, it accustoms man not to employ his own muscles, it is often an object of luxury; it makes man effeminate. For the future not a single horse.

N. a singer; speaks to n.o.body, his throat m.u.f.fled up--he takes care of his voice, but no one has ever heard him sing.

About absolutely everything: "What's the good of that? It's useless!"

He wears felt boots summer and winter and gives this explanation: "It's better for the head, because the blood, owing to the heat, is drawn down into the feet, and the thoughts are clearer."

A woman is jocularly called Fiodor Ivanovitch.

A farce: N., in order to marry, greased the bald patch on his head with an ointment which he read of in an advertis.e.m.e.nt, and suddenly there began to grow on his head pig's bristles.

What does your husband do?--He takes castor oil.

A girl writes: "We shall live intolerably near you."

N. has been for long in love with Z. who married X.; two years after the marriage Z. comes to N., cries, wishes to tell him something; N.

expects to hear her complain against her husband; but it turns out that Z. has come to tell of her love for K.

N. a well known lawyer in Moscow; Z., who like N. was born in Taganrog, comes to Moscow and goes to see the celebrity; he is received warmly, but he remembers the school to which they both went, remembers how N. looked in his uniform, becomes agitated by envy, sees that N.'s flat is in bad taste, that N. himself talks a great deal; and he leaves disenchanted by envy and by the meanness which before he did not even suspect was in him.