Letter 1044 - Revision history

Tony: "had" to "have" for clarity of meaning

2024-06-28T13:12:00Z

"had" to "have" for clarity of meaning

← Older revision		Revision as of 15:12, 28 June 2024
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	\|Translated text={{right\|{{datestyle\|''[[Dijon]]''. ''Friday''\|29 December 1878\|10 January 1879\|}}}}		\|Translated text={{right\|{{datestyle\|''[[Dijon]]''. ''Friday''\|29 December 1878\|10 January 1879\|}}}}
	Perhaps you know from the newspapers about the terrible snowstorm that raged in France on the night of the 27th and 28th (our style). I was forced to leave [[Paris]] on the evening of the 27th. It would take too long to recount everything we endured from the cold and hunger. For example, at one station where there was nothing to be had except for bread, and even then with difficulty, we stood from 4 o'clock in the morning until one in the afternoon, and were frozen! Lord, how we were frozen! We were dragged to [[Dijon]] at 3 in the afternoon, and our train immediately started to manoeuvre, while [[Aleksey]] and I, having not been warned by anyone, remained in our compartment. After the manoeuvres we stopped somewhere in the dark amongst a mass of other carriages. It was now completely dark, and we were all standing. Finally we clambered out, and, up to our waists in snow, began to look for someone to learn our fate. Finally, we found an employee. It turned out that all the passengers had been warned long ago, even before the manoeuvres, that not a single train would be going anywhere — they had only forgotten our compartment, out of whose icy and frozen windows we couldn't see a thing. I had to trudge in the dark with my things through snowdrifts to the station, where the manager very politely informed me that ''they have all lost their heads'' and therefore it wasn't surprising that I had been sitting in a siding for more than 3 hours. All trains were cancelled until the tracks were cleared. It only remained for me to go to a hotel, which I did. My God! How enjoyable it was to sit by a fireplace in a comfortable armchair, and then to eat an excellent table d'hôte dinner. This was yesterday. Today, having slept splendidly and warmed myself by the fire, I went to the station to learn when we could leave. The station manager informed me that it would be 2 o'clock at night. I had a look around the town, which isn't big, but very nice. It turned out they ~~had~~ a very fine ''museum'' here, and a lovely theatre, which I managed to visit last night. But what a frost — it's awful! In the room you can only sit by the fireplace. The snow covers the streets in a thick layer, and there are whole walls of snow by the pavements. They say there's been nothing like this since 1840. Not only am I not upset by what happened, but to some extent I'm even amused by this. Until we meet, old chap! Merci for the kind letters.		Perhaps you know from the newspapers about the terrible snowstorm that raged in France on the night of the 27th and 28th (our style). I was forced to leave [[Paris]] on the evening of the 27th. It would take too long to recount everything we endured from the cold and hunger. For example, at one station where there was nothing to be had except for bread, and even then with difficulty, we stood from 4 o'clock in the morning until one in the afternoon, and were frozen! Lord, how we were frozen! We were dragged to [[Dijon]] at 3 in the afternoon, and our train immediately started to manoeuvre, while [[Aleksey]] and I, having not been warned by anyone, remained in our compartment. After the manoeuvres we stopped somewhere in the dark amongst a mass of other carriages. It was now completely dark, and we were all standing. Finally we clambered out, and, up to our waists in snow, began to look for someone to learn our fate. Finally, we found an employee. It turned out that all the passengers had been warned long ago, even before the manoeuvres, that not a single train would be going anywhere — they had only forgotten our compartment, out of whose icy and frozen windows we couldn't see a thing. I had to trudge in the dark with my things through snowdrifts to the station, where the manager very politely informed me that ''they have all lost their heads'', and therefore it wasn't surprising that I had been sitting in a siding for more than 3 hours. All trains were cancelled until the tracks were cleared. It only remained for me to go to a hotel, which I did. My God! How enjoyable it was to sit by a fireplace in a comfortable armchair, and then to eat an excellent table d'hôte dinner. This was yesterday. Today, having slept splendidly and warmed myself by the fire, I went to the station to learn when we could leave. The station manager informed me that it would be 2 o'clock at night. I had a look around the town, which isn't big, but very nice. It turned out they have a very fine ''museum'' here, and a lovely theatre, which I managed to visit last night. But what a frost — it's awful! In the room you can only sit by the fireplace. The snow covers the streets in a thick layer, and there are whole walls of snow by the pavements. They say there's been nothing like this since 1840. Not only am I not upset by what happened, but to some extent I'm even amused by this. Until we meet, old chap! Merci for the kind letters.
	{{right\|Yours P. Tchaikovsky}}		{{right\|Yours P. Tchaikovsky}}
	}}		}}

Brett: 1 revision imported

2022-07-12T12:19:56Z

1 revision imported

← Older revision	Revision as of 14:19, 12 July 2022
(No difference)

Brett at 11:02, 8 October 2020

2020-10-08T11:02:58Z

New page

{{letterhead
|Date=29 December 1878/10 January 1879
|To=[[Pyotr Jurgenson]]
|Place=[[Dijon]]
|Language=Russian
|Autograph=[[Klin]] (Russia): {{RUS-KLč}} (a{{sup|3}}, No. 2222)
|Publication={{bib|1938/40|П. И. Чайковский. Переписка с П. И. Юргенсоном ; том 1}} (1938), p. 67–68<br/>{{bib|1962/102|П. И. Чайковский. Полное собрание сочинений ; том VII}} (1962), p. 572–573
}}
==Text and Translation==
{{Lettertext
|Language=Russian
|Translator=Brett Langston
|Original text={{right|{{datestyle|''Дижон''. ''Пятница''|29 д[екабря] 1878|10 я[нваря] 1879|}}}}
Ты, может быть, знаешь из газет о страшной снежной мятели, свирепствовавшей во Франции в ночь с 27 на 28 по ст[арому] стилю. Как раз мне пришлось выехать из Парижа 27-го вечером. Было бы слишком долго рассказывать все, что мы вытерпели от холода и голода. Напр[имер], на одной станции, где, кроме хлеба, и то с трудом, нельзя было ничего достать, мы стояли с 4 часов утра до часа пополудни и мерзли! Боже, как мы мерзли! До Дижона нас дотащили в 3-ем часу дня, и поезд наш тотчас начал маневрировать, а мы, никем не предупреждённые, остались с Алексеем в своём купе. После манёвров мы остановились где-то в темноте среди массы других вагонов. Стало совсем темно, а мы все стоим. Наконец мы вылезли и, утопая по брюхо в снегу, стали искать кого-нибудь, чтоб узнать о своей судьбе. Встретился, наконец, какой-то служащий. Оказалось, что все пассажиры давно, ещё до манёвров, были предупреждены о том, что дальше ни один поезд не пойдёт; — забыли только наше купе, из {{sic|замерших|замерзших}} и обледенелых окон которого мы не могли ничего видеть. Пришлось тащиться с вещами по сугробам снега в темноте на станцию, где начальник оной объявил мне весьма учтиво, что ''они все потеряли голову'' и поэтому неудивительно, что я просидел на запасном пути более 3 часов. Все поезда отменены впредь до расчистки пути. Осталось одно: отправиться в гостиницу, что я и сделал. Боже мой! что было за наслаждение сесть у камина в комфортабельном кресле, а потом съесть за table d'hôt'ом превосходный обед. Это было вчера. Сегодня, выспавшись отлично и отогревшись у камина, я ходил на станцию узнать, когда можно будет ехать. Начальник станции объявил, что ехать можно будет ночью в 2 часа. Осмотрел город, который невелик, но очень мил. Здесь оказался очень хороший ''музей'', премиленький театр, в который я успел зайти вчера вечером. Но что за мороз, — это ужасно! В комнате можно сидеть только у камина. На улицах снег дожит толстым слоем, а около тротуаров целые снежные стены. Говорят, что с 1840 г[оду] не было ничего подобного. Я не только не огорчён случившимся, но до некоторой степени я даже забавляюсь этим. До свиданья, дружище! Merci за милые письма.
{{right|Твой П. Чайковский}}

|Translated text={{right|{{datestyle|''[[Dijon]]''. ''Friday''|29 December 1878|10 January 1879|}}}}
Perhaps you know from the newspapers about the terrible snowstorm that raged in France on the night of the 27th and 28th (our style). I was forced to leave [[Paris]] on the evening of the 27th. It would take too long to recount everything we endured from the cold and hunger. For example, at one station where there was nothing to be had except for bread, and even then with difficulty, we stood from 4 o'clock in the morning until one in the afternoon, and were frozen! Lord, how we were frozen! We were dragged to [[Dijon]] at 3 in the afternoon, and our train immediately started to manoeuvre, while [[Aleksey]] and I, having not been warned by anyone, remained in our compartment. After the manoeuvres we stopped somewhere in the dark amongst a mass of other carriages. It was now completely dark, and we were all standing. Finally we clambered out, and, up to our waists in snow, began to look for someone to learn our fate. Finally, we found an employee. It turned out that all the passengers had been warned long ago, even before the manoeuvres, that not a single train would be going anywhere — they had only forgotten our compartment, out of whose icy and frozen windows we couldn't see a thing. I had to trudge in the dark with my things through snowdrifts to the station, where the manager very politely informed me that ''they have all lost their heads'' and therefore it wasn't surprising that I had been sitting in a siding for more than 3 hours. All trains were cancelled until the tracks were cleared. It only remained for me to go to a hotel, which I did. My God! How enjoyable it was to sit by a fireplace in a comfortable armchair, and then to eat an excellent table d'hôte dinner. This was yesterday. Today, having slept splendidly and warmed myself by the fire, I went to the station to learn when we could leave. The station manager informed me that it would be 2 o'clock at night. I had a look around the town, which isn't big, but very nice. It turned out they had a very fine ''museum'' here, and a lovely theatre, which I managed to visit last night. But what a frost — it's awful! In the room you can only sit by the fireplace. The snow covers the streets in a thick layer, and there are whole walls of snow by the pavements. They say there's been nothing like this since 1840. Not only am I not upset by what happened, but to some extent I'm even amused by this. Until we meet, old chap! Merci for the kind letters.
{{right|Yours P. Tchaikovsky}}
}}