The Diaries of Sofia Tolstoy (14 page)

 

25th December
. Christmas Day. Everyone has been in a festive mood all day, and I have been busy decorating the Christmas tree. Lyova and Lyovochka started a heated discussion over morning coffee about happiness and the meaning of life, which all began when Lyova commented on the change of mealtimes here and his general dissatisfaction with the formalities in
our
life. Lyovochka replied in a reasonable and friendly manner that it all depended on the individual, on a person's
inner
needs rather than
external
appearances. All this was very true, but when he points to his disciples as examples it makes me angry.

We had a cheerful party round the Christmas tree, to which about eighty peasant children came; we gave them a wonderful time, and our children enjoyed themselves too.

 

27th December
. In the evening the servants all came in dressed as mummers, and danced to the harmonica and piano. It was Tanya who had arranged this, for she wanted some
silly
fun. She and Masha dressed up too, and when Masha walked through the door Lyovochka and I gasped: she was dressed as a boy, in a pair of tight trousers which showed her behind, and she showed not an ounce of shame. What a strange, foolish, inscrutable creature.

These rowdy parties always make me depressed. I went off to my room, opened the window, gazed out at the bright, frosty, starry sky, and suddenly remembered poor U.* And I felt so unbearably sad that he had died, and I was robbed for ever of that refined, pure, discrete friendship, which was much more than friendship yet left nothing on my conscience, and filled so many years of my life with happiness. Who needs me now? Where will I ever find such affection and consideration? There is only Vanechka, I thank God for that joy.

 

29th December
. A heavenly bright, frosty day. Blue sky, hoarfrost on the trees, utter silence. We spent almost the whole day outside. The little ones and the girls turned the benches into toboggans, and Erdeli, Masha K., Lyova and I all went skating. I am a clumsy, timid skater, but I loved the heady soothing movement. The Zinovievs came for dinner, with Mme Giuliani* and her son. The Zinovievs are pleasant, straightforward people. Lyuba played the piano nicely enough, although too much like a beginner to give real pleasure. Mme Giuliani sang a duet with Nadya, then a solo. Her voice has great passion—her nature too I expect.

 

30th December
. I played with Vanechka all day until dinner time, as Nurse was visiting her mother. Lyova has gone to a party in the village.

 

31st December
. I am so used to living for Lyovochka and the children that I feel empty and uneasy if a day passes when I don't do something for them. I have started copying Lyovochka's diaries again and putting the accounts in order, but still cannot balance our total income over the past twenty months with our expenditure. It doesn't surprise me, I keep the accounts so badly. A telegram arrived from Ilya asking
me to be the baby's godmother. Sofia Alexeevna* refused, so did Tanya, so now it's my turn,
faute de mieux
. But I don't care. It's my little grandson I care about, not the others, and I am delighted to be his godmother. I shall leave tonight, or rather at 5 a.m., on New Year's Day.

Trans-Siberian railway line starts construction, opening up vastness of Siberia to colonization. Harvest, followed by famine in which thousands die
.

25th February—Volume 13 of the
Complete Works
(published separately containing
The Kreutzer Sonata)
seized and banned. March—Sofia successfully petitions the Tsar against the ban. (The volume is published in June, with many textual changes.) April—Tolstoy's property redistributed amongst his family. Spring—Lyova Tolstoy forced to leave the university by a nervous illness. Autumn—Tolstoy works in the countryside, setting up canteens for victims of famine. Sofia joins him. Tolstoy denounced as “impious infidel” by the Archbishop of Kharkov
.

 

2nd January
. I have just returned from seeing Ilyusha and christening the baby. The ceremony, renouncing Satan and so on, was as dull as usual. But the baby, his eyes tightly closed, had such a touchingly contented expression on his red little face, and I was deeply moved by the mystery of his soul and his new life as I prayed for him. There were crowds of Filosofovs in Grinevka, all very large and stout, but astonishingly sweet-natured, both in their manners and the way they live their lives. There is so much genuine unassuming simplicity about them, and they are so completely without malice. And that is splendid. Ilya was somewhat distracted, and seemed almost deliberately inattentive, rushing about on small errands. It was sad to get home, for it was obvious nobody was interested to see me back. I often wonder why they do not love me when I love all of them so dearly. I suppose it's because of my outbursts of temper, when I get carried away and speak too sharply. Then everyone gathered round me, although they hadn't bothered to make me anything to eat. Only Vanechka and Sasha were glad to see me—he with noisy delight, she with quiet pleasure.

Masha and I had another angry argument this evening about Biryukov. She is doing all she can to re-establish contact with him, but I cannot alter my views on the matter: if she marries him she is lost. I was harsh and unreasonable with her, but I cannot discuss it calmly,
and Masha really is the most terrible cross God has sent me to bear. She has given me nothing but pain from the moment she was born. She is a stranger to her family and to God, and her love for Biryukov is incomprehensible.

 

3rd January
. I worked all day on the puppet theatre. The drawing room was packed with children but it wasn't a success. How disappointing that they liked Punch best when he was fighting. What nasty coarse values! I am tired and bored. We have guests and Lyovochka is cheerful; he did a lot of writing this morning on the subject of the Church. I am not very fond of these religious and philosophical articles of his—I love him best as an artist, and always shall. There is a blizzard. 7° below freezing.

 

4th January
. Terrible snowstorm all day, 10° below freezing. The wind is howling in the stoves, outside everything is buried in snow. We had some unpleasant news this morning: Roman the head forester got drunk last night and rode down to the marshes, where he and his horse fell into the lake. He got soaked through, but a Yasnaya peasant called Yakov Kurnosenkov managed to drag him out. The horse was drowned, however. It's most annoying and a great pity, for it was a young horse. Roman himself ran home in a terrible state. Our steward Berger can't be found either. I am very displeased with him, for he is frightfully lazy and a liar. Masha has bought a washtub and scrubs her own underwear. I angrily told her she was ruining her health and would be the death of me, but she answered me with calm indifference. All four of the young ones have coughs and colds, but they are up and about and in good spirits. Where can Seryozha be in this blizzard? He was visiting the Olsufievs—I only hope he didn't leave. Lyovochka has been complaining that he cannot write.

Lyova and Berger went to look for the drowned horse, but they got lost and returned without finding it. My son Lyova is so precious to me. I only wish he wasn't so distressingly thin and melancholy—although at present he is looking happier, which is a relief.

 

5th January
. I am feeling ill, my back aches, my nose keeps bleeding, my front tooth is aching, and I am terrified of losing it, for a false one would be horrible. I copied Lyovochka's diary all morning, then tidied his clothes and underwear and cleaned his study until it was spotless; then I darned his socks, which he had mentioned were all in holes, and this kept me busy until dinner time. Afterwards I played
with Vanechka. This evening I was angry with Misha for hitting Sasha. I was much too hard on him and pushed him in the back and made him kneel in front of everyone. He cried and ran off to his room, and I felt sorry for him and for our friendship. But we soon made up.

 

6th January
. I haven't stirred all day, just sat dumbly darning Lyovochka's socks. I was sent some Spinoza but cannot read it: I shall wait for my head and the black spots in front of my eyes to clear. We had guests—Bulygin and Kolechka Gué.* Seryozha returned by express train and is kind and genial. We chatted about frivolous matters, his visit to the Olsufievs and business. He is going to Nikolskoe tonight.

Andryusha and Misha went to the village to look in on a party. They evidently didn't have a good time, for the village lads were shy and wouldn't play. I'm sorry they didn't enjoy themselves. It's all very difficult with Masha. She goes out on her own with a village girl to visit typhus patients. I am worried about her and the risk of infection, and have told her so. This desire of hers to help the sick is all very well—I do so myself frequently—but she always goes too far. But today I reasoned gently with her and began to feel so sorry for her, so sorry too that we are estranged.

 

7th January
. Masha's words to me yesterday have been in my mind all day: she is going to marry Biryukov next spring, she says. “I shall go and grow potatoes,” were her words. I have now adopted the habit of waiting until the next day to respond. So today I wrote Biryukov a letter, enclosing the money for a book he had sent her. I said I didn't want Masha marrying him, and asked him to stop writing her letters and coming to see her. Masha overheard me telling Lyovochka about the letter and was furious with me, saying she took back all the promises she had made to me. I was upset and in tears too. Masha really is a torment, everything about her, her deviousness and now her imaginary love for B.

Lyova left for Pirogovo with his servant Mitrokha this morning. Tanya went to Tula where she had her money stolen. And last night two cartloads of firewood were stolen from the shed. I copied L.'s diaries this morning, then taught the children, darned some socks, and now I can't do another thing. What infernal drudgery! This evening I read aloud two tedious and horrible stories which that stupid, insensitive Chertkov sent.

Today I was thinking that nine tenths of all that happens in this
world is caused by love, in all its various aspects, yet people are always anxious to conceal this, since otherwise all their most private emotions, thoughts and passions would be revealed: it would be like appearing naked in public. There is no mention of
love
in Lyovochka's diaries, not as I understand it anyway—he seems to have had no experience of it.

 

8th January
. Overwhelmed with work all day. I went through the accounts for Yasnaya Polyana and the timber sales and checked them and read the proofs for Volume 13 of the new
Collected Works
. Then I gave Andryusha and Misha a music lesson that lasted two hours, and after dinner I wrote down some chords for the children. Then I worked out our expenses on butter and eggs, and wrote yet more rough drafts of my legal petition regarding the division of the estate to the Ovsyannikovo priest and the transfer of the Grinevka estate. So now I have put everything in perfect order—as if before death? I really should pay a visit to Moscow about Volume 13, but I have no desire to go. My heart is heavy, though it shouldn't be: everyone is well and happy, thank God. Sasha, Vanechka and I all said our prayers together. Lyovochka spends all his time downstairs reading and writing, and comes out only to eat and sleep. He is happy and well.

 

9th January
. Tanya and I played the
Kreutzer Sonata
as a piano duet—badly; it's a very difficult piece to play without practising beforehand. This evening Andryusha had a toothache, and I carried Vanechka about in my arms as he had lost his voice. What a gentle, affectionate, sensitive, clever little boy he is! I love him more than anything in the world and am terrified he will not live long. I dream constantly that I have given birth to another son.

 

10th January
. It was almost ten when I got up, so I didn't go to Tula; there's a terrible wind. This morning I cut out some underwear for Sasha and did some copying, gave the children a music lesson and gave Andryusha religious instruction. I took great pains with them and it went very well. Andryusha is stubborn and absent-minded and seems deliberately not to listen or understand. The more I put my heart into the lesson the more inattentive and rude he is. How he distresses me! He will have a hard life with that character, poor boy! Lyovochka and Nikolai Nikolaevich* played chess with Alexei Mitrofanovich,* who played without looking at the board, to our great amazement.
We talked about the ways in which censorship prevents writers from saying what is most important to them, and I argued that there
were
free works, works of pure literature that the censors were unable to silence—like
War and Peace
for instance. Lyovochka angrily replied that he had renounced all such works.* It was obviously the banning of
The Kreutzer Sonata
that was making him so bitter.

 

12th January
. Yesterday I went to Tula, traded in the coupons, submitted my application for the transfer of Grinevka property, settled the bills and wore myself out discussing the division of the Ovsyannikovo estate with the priest's wife, who shares the rights to the land with us. Four times I walked from the district court to the provincial offices and back, as each place sent me to the other, saying the matter was not under their jurisdiction. So I left without accomplishing a thing. It is a long time since I felt so depressed, waiting in Davydov* the magistrate's office for the barrister who was late. These
business
matters are so tedious and difficult—it's much easier to say: “I'm a Christian, it's against my rules!” I must hire a proper businessman to see to it for I cannot be continually going to Tula. At three this morning Vanechka started coughing and running a high fever. I dragged myself out of bed, went to his room and tried to soothe him. I got up late this morning. Today is Tanya's name day, but we both gave the children their lessons; Andryusha played the piano quite nicely, but Misha scowled. Vanechka still has a cough and a temperature but he doesn't complain. The post brought a letter from L.N.'s niece Varya Nagornova, as well as the proofs for
The Kreutzer Sonata
. The affair has now reached some sort of denouement—what
will
happen? Will it be banned? What should I do?

Tomorrow I must read the proofs and cut out underwear. My soul is empty and lonely.

 

13th January
. Vanechka is ill. He didn't get up at midday, and by two he had a temperature of 39.4—and the same at 9 this evening. Last night he was running a fever and choking on a thick phlegmy cough. He has a bad cold, and this morning he had an earache. I feel so sorry for him, and so exhausted. In my free time I managed to correct a lot of the proofs for Volume 13, which includes
The Kreutzer Sonata
. When Vanechka was choking last night I ran into Masha's room to ask her for an emetic. She was asleep but she woke at once and jumped out of bed with alacrity to get some ipecacuanha. When she turned to me her face looked so touchingly thin and sweet that I had
a sudden impulse to hug and kiss her. That
would
have surprised her! She has had a sweet expression on her face all day and I love her. If only I could always feel like this towards her, how happy I would be! I must try.

 

14th January
. Vanechka is better. His cough improved and he grew more cheerful. Lyova went to Moscow. Klopsky arrived. He is utterly repulsive, and a dark one.* I wrote to Misha Stakhovich and Varya Nagornova and did a little copying. I taught Andryusha the liturgy and Misha the Holy Communion. After dinner I sat with Vanechka for a while, copied Lyovochka's diary and reached 1854, then sat downstairs with the girls. My mind is asleep. This evening we saw Mitrokha off to Moscow; Andryusha and Misha both helped him to get ready and gave him an overcoat and 50 kopecks of their own money. There is a hard frost. Lyovochka is irritable and unkind. I am terrified of his sarcasm—it cuts me to the quick.

 

15th January
. It is a hard struggle at times. This morning the children were downstairs doing their lessons and Klopsky was there. “Why are you doing your lessons?” he asked Andryusha. “Do you want to destroy your soul? Surely your father wouldn't want that!” The girls then piped up and asked him if they could shake his noble hand for saying so and the boys ran up to tell me about it. I then had earnestly to assure them that since we did no real,
peasant
labour, without intellectual labour there would be nothing for us but total idleness; that this intellectual work was the justification for the grand life we led. I told them that I had to educate them all on my own, that if they turned into bad people all the shame would be mine, and that I would be very hurt if all my labours were in vain.

 

16th January
. I went to Tula on business again, ran all over the place, saw a lot of people and did a lot of talking.