Ivan Bunin

“ But Chekhov affected!
"I grant," said one who knew Chekhov well, "that I have met men as sincere as Chekhov. But any one so simple, and so free from pose and affectation I have never known!"
And that is true. He loved all that was sincere, vital, and gay, so long as it was neither coarse nor dull, and could not endure pedants, or book-worms who have got so much into the habit of making phrases that they can talk in no other way. In his writings he scarcely ever spoke of himself or of his views, and this led people to think him a man without principles or sense of duty to his kind. ”

“ The moment you opened your eyes, you called me into your room and began to beg me to subscribe to a magazine for children, to buy you books, pencils, paper, and to begin immediately to teach you figures.
"But this is a holiday, everything is closed," said I, knowing perfectly well that I lied, but trying to postpone the matter until the evening or the next day; for I had not the slightest desire of going to the city.
But you began to shake your head.
"It isn't a holiday, at all!" You almost screamed this, raising your eye-brows. "I know it isn't a holiday." ”

“ Naples grew, and drew nearer; the musicians, the brass of their instruments flashing, had already clustered upon the deck, and suddenly deafened everybody with the triumphant strains of a match; the gigantic captain, in his full-dress uniform, appeared upon his stage, and, like a gracious pagan god, waved his hand amiably to the passengers,—and to the gentleman from San Francisco it seemed that it was for him alone that the march so beloved by proud America was thundering, that it was he whom the captain was felicitating upon a sale arrival. ”

“ Sweetly smells the earth of Italy after rain, and her every island has its own, its especial aroma!
On this evening the island of Capri was damp and dark. But now for an instant it came into life; lights sprang up here and there, as always on the steamer's arrival. At the top of the mountain, where stood the station of the funicular, there was another throng of those whose, duty it was to receive fittingly the gentleman from San Francisco. ”

“ Ripe ears of oats shone gloomy and greyish, like sea sand. Towards the north, the whole landscape appeared sombre. A dark cloud was rising there. Soft winds, blowing from every side, at times became stronger and ran in rapid gusts through stalks of rye and oats, which fluttered dryly and restlessly. The cloud in the north seemed motionless; only from time to time it glittered with a rapid, ominous, golden glow.
Lowering his head, as usual, Semyon entered the door. ”

“ Your heart was seething. You overturned chairs, rushed from room to room, struck the floor with your feet, shouted as if pouring your whole thirst for happiness into that shout. . .Then life struck your heart with the dull knife of pain and humiliation. And you began to cry, and shriek, and call for help.
Not a muscle twitched in the face of Life. . .Give in, give in! And you gave in.
VII.
Do you remember how timidly you came out of the nursery, and what you said to me?
"Uncle," you said, exhausted by your struggle for happiness, and still thirsting for it. "Uncle, forgive me, please." ”

“ And when the Atlantis finally entered the harbour, heaved to at the wharf with her many-tiered mass, black with people, and the gang-planks clattered down,—what a multitude of porters and their helpers in caps with gold braid, what a multitude of different commissionaires, whistling gamins, and strapping ragamuffins with packets of coloured postal cards in their hands, made a rush toward the gentleman from San Francisco, with offers of their services! ”

“ In life, too, he was no egotist, and seldom spoke of his likings and dislikings. But both were very strong and lasting, and simplicity was one of the things he liked best. "The sea is vast." . . . To him, with his passion for simplicity and his loathing of the strained and affected, that was "wonderful." His words about the officer and the music showed another characteristic of his: his reserve. The transition from the sea to the officer was no doubt inspired by his secret craving for youth and health. The sea is lonely. . . . And Chekhov loved life and joy. ”

“ I MADE Chekhov's acquaintance in Moscow, towards the end of '95. We met then at intervals and I should not think it worth mentioning, if I did not remember some very characteristic phrases.
"Do you write much?" he asked me once.
I answered that I wrote little.
"Bad," he said, almost sternly, in his low, deep voice. "One must work . . . without sparing oneself ... all one's life."
And, after a pause, without any visible connection, he added:
"When one has written a story I believe that one ought to strike out both the beginning and the end. ”

“ Semyon woke up. The wind was now quite strong; its gusts were rushing, uninterruptedly, through rows of feverishly fluttering stalks of rye and oats. The light of the moon was now duller still. Semyon walked out of the house and into the field of fluttering oat-stalks, that stood as pale as ghosts. He looked up at the cloud. ”

“ And at dawn, when it had become light beyond the window of room Number Forty-three, and a humid wind had begun to rustle the tattered leaves of the banana tree; when the blue sky of morning had lifted and spread out over the Island of Capri, and the pure and clear-cut, summit of Monte Solaro had grown golden against the sun that was rising beyond the distant blue mountains of Italy; when the stone masons, who were repairing the tourists' paths on the island, had set out to work,—a long box that had formerly been used for soda water was brought to room Number Forty-three. ”

“ You can't buy them for money. However, you can do as you like." And she left the nursery.
Your pride was broken. You were conquered. The more inaccessible is a dream, the more fascinating it is—and the more fascinating it is, the more inaccessible it seems. This I know well. The dream holds me in thrall from my early childhood. And I know that the more precious my thought is to me, the less hope there is of its becoming realized. And I am waging a constant struggle with it. I play the hypocrite; I pretend that I am indifferent. But what could you do?
Happiness, happiness! ”

“ And again it seemed that it as, in honour of the guests from San Francisco that this dump little town of stone on a craggy little island of the Mediterranean Sea had come to life, that it was they who had made the proprietor of the hotel so happy and affable, that it was only for them that the Chinese gong began to sound the summons to dinner through all the stories of the hotel, the instant they had set foot in the vestibule. ”

“ She's only two, anyway. Though she is a fine girl, and nice to look at; we'll all be awfully sorry for her. But what's to be done?"
"Hear him, ye Christians," said Elijah in a loud voice. "I agree."
And then such a bright streak of lightning tore the cloud, that Semyon's eyelashes almost became lit up, and such a violent peal of thunder shook the sky, that the whole earth trembled.
"Holy, holy, holy Lord! Have pity on us!" whispered Semyon.
Awaking, and opening his eyes, Semyon saw only a cloud of dust, and the fluttering stalks swayed by the wind. ”

“ To be truthful and natural and yet retain great charm implies a nature of rare beauty, integrity, and power. I speak so frequently of Chekhov's composure because his composure seems to me a proof of the strength of his character. ”

“ After scrutinizing him coldly, the gentleman from San Francisco sat down in a deep leather chair in a corner near green-shaded lamp, put on his pince nez, twitching his head because his collar was choking him, and hid himself completely behind the newspaper. He rapidly ran through the headlines of certain items, read a few lines about the never-ceasing Balkan war, with an accustomed gesture turned the newspaper over,—when suddenly the lines flared up before him with a glassy glare, his neck became taut, his eyes bulged out, the pince nez flew off his nose. ”

“ Semyon jumped to his feet. Forgetting all about his coat and the tools, he began to walk rapidly in the direction of the hamlet. It began to rain when he turned from the high road into the field. The dark clouds were now hanging low over the gloomy gulches. The reddish moon was disappearing behind them. The hamlet was fast asleep; only the cattle moved restlessly in their barns, and roosters crowed ominously. Semyon began to run, and, approaching his old, dilapidated house, he heard women wailing. Near the threshold he came across his brother Nikon, standing with his coat on and his head bare. ”

“ Upon this island, two thousand years ago, had lived a man who had become completely enmeshed in his cruel and foul deeds, who had for some reason seized the power over millions of people in his hands, and who, having himself lost his head at the senselessness of this power and from the fear of death by assassination by someone, lurking round the corner, had committed cruelties beyond all measure,—and humankind has remembered him for all time ”

“ You can see what a wise uncle I am.
II.
That morning you awoke with a new thought, a new dream, that overmastered your whole soul.
You were suddenly filled with an ambition to taste of pleasures heretofore unknown: to own your own books with pictures, your own pen-case, your own colored pencils—there was no question about their being colored—to learn how to read, draw, make figures. All this was to be acquired immediately, that very day. ”

“ There is a whole column, and at the bottom of it, 'There is also a writer called Chekhov: a discontented man, a grumbler.'"
Sometimes he would add seriously:
"When you find yourself criticized, remember us sinners. The critics boxed our ears for trifles just as if we were schoolboys. One of them foretold that I should die in a ditch. ”

“ Near the wharf the junior porter was joined by the senior, who was speeding with the daughter and wife of the gentleman from San Francisco in his automobile,—they were pale, with eyes hollow from tears and a sleepless night. And ten minutes later the little steamer was again noisily making its way through the water, again running toward Sorrento, toward Castellamare, carrying away from Capri, for all time, the family from San Francisco. . . . And again peace and quiet reigned upon the island. ”

“ You begged me for at least a drop of that happiness, the longing for which was bringing you such acute suffering.
But Life is not so easily appeased. It made a sad face and said:
"Of course, the knowledge of figures brings happiness. But you do not love your uncle."
"It isn't true, I do love him! I do love him!"
Then Life became kinder.
"Well, bring your chair to the table and get the pencils and some paper." ”