Published:
First published in 1929 in the journal Proletarskaya Revolyutsiya No. 11.
Sent from Munich to Moscow.
Printed from
the original.
Source:
Lenin
Collected Works,
Progress Publishers,
1977,
Moscow,
Volume 37,
pages 319-320.
Translated: The Late George H. Hanna
Transcription\Markup:
D. Moros
Public Domain:
Lenin Internet Archive.
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• README
February 20, 1901
Mother dearest,
It is quite a time since I had a letter from you. The only news I have had was from Manyasha, sent on the 6th, and for that many thanks. How are you? Not freezing too badly? Are you keeping well?
It is cold here again, and there has been so much snow— more than for the last 13 years—so people say. There have been cases of trains being held up by snowdrifts. But it seems to be winter’s last effort. I am used to it by now and have adapted myself to the local winter—nevertheless if I have to spend the next winter in these parts I shall write for a quilted coat. Without it you either have to wear a woollen jersey or put on two sets of underclothes (as I do). At first it was not very comfortable but I got used to it long ago. And in any case the cold here is not like the Russian cold. If it’s 10° below zero that’s a “terrible frost”.
The carnival ended here a few days ago. This is the first
time I have seen the last day of a carnival in a foreign
country—processions of people in fancy dress, general
buffoonery, showers of confetti (tiny scraps of coloured
paper) thrown in your face, paper streamers and so on. People
here do know how to make merry publicly, in the streets!
I am quite well, probably because I run about rather a lot, and do not sit still for long. In general life is much the same.
Nadya’s term of exile will soon be over (March 24 by the calendar here, March 11 by yours). In a day or two I shall send an application for a passport for her. I should like Manyasha to send a box of “my” pen-nibs with her. Believe it or not, I have not been able to find them here. Foolish people, these Czechs and Germans—no English nibs, only “our own” make, which is awful rubbish.
What does Mitya write? When will the exams be over?
What does Mark intend to do this summer?
I embrace you fondly, my dear, and wish you good health. Regards to all.
Yours,
V. U.
Do you go to the theatre? What is this new play of Chekhov’s, Three Sisters? Have you seen it and do you like it? I read a review in the papers. They act well at the Moscow Art Theatre—I still remember with pleasure my visit to that theatre last year with poor old Columbus. Is he well? I keep intending to write to him but am always too busy
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