The Diaries of Sofia Tolstoy (36 page)

 

3rd April
. Well, the day is almost over, it's gone ten and there have been no attempts on L.N.'s life. This morning I cut out some trousers for him and stitched them on the machine. He then decided to go out for a walk, and I went with him so as not to stay at home worrying.

My whole life passes in a way that's not to my liking. L.N.'s life and interests are so particular, so personal, they just don't concern his children. They can't interest themselves in sectarians and Dukhobors, or the renunciation of art or ideas about non-resistance. They need their own personal life. And since they have no leader in their father, no ideals within their grasp, they create this undisciplined life, with card games, idleness and entertainments, rather than serious work or art. I have neither the strength nor the skill to make a better life for them—and I doubt it would be possible anyway, with a father who renounces
everything
!

 

6th April, Easter Monday
. I spent the whole day with the children. I went to the fair with Sasha, Verochka the maid and the Litvinov and Kolokoltsev children, and we watched the marionettes and the theatre, and went on the toboggans and merry-go-rounds. After dinner we rolled eggs. The children had a lovely day. Tanya is ill, with a fever and a swollen cheek. We had a letter from Masha. The boys paid some calls. After dinner Varya Nagornova and I played Taneev's quartet as a duet; the more one studies his music the more one loves it—and him, for his profound and noble soul.

 

10th April
. I should go mad if I had to live like Lev Nikolaevich. He writes all morning and wears himself out mentally, and all evening he talks non-stop, or rather preaches, as his listeners generally come to him for advice or instruction.

There were thirteen people here after dinner today—two factory workers, three young schoolteachers, a lady studying the market for Russian handicrafts in England, a doctor, a correspondent for the
Messenger
, Sergeenko, Dunaev and various others.

Seryozha came today and sat down at the piano to compose a piece of music. Tanya is not well: her cheek is swollen and she has a stomach ache. Andryusha left yesterday. It rained all day. I visited the sales again and bought some furnishing material. At home I attended to
business—
accounts, banking matters, all the bookkeeping for my trusteeship of the children, letter-writing, etc. I didn't touch music or my story* all day.

There were moments today when the familiar grief welled up in my soul—it is still with me, after all these years I have still not really recovered from it.

 

15th April
. I did various jobs in town—took things to be mended and altered, left books to be bound, etc. This evening we had a visit from young Prince Trubetskoy, a sculptor born and educated in Italy. An extraordinary young man, exceptionally talented, but utterly primitive. He hasn't read a thing, doesn't even know
War and Peace
, hasn't studied anywhere—he is naive, rough and totally engrossed in his art. He is coming here tomorrow to start on a sculpture of Lev Nikolaevich and will dine with us.

Sergei Ivanovich came, and it was all wonderfully straightforward and natural. He talked in my room with Seryozha about some musical translation, and Seryozha was asking him various questions.*

L.N. announced today that he was leaving for the country to see Ilyusha the day after tomorrow, that it was a great strain for him to live in town and that he had 1,400 rubles he wanted to give to the needy. It was all perfectly reasonable of him, but I felt so wretched at the thought of living here on my own with horrid Sasha, and Misha, who is never here, that I burst into tears and pleaded with him not to leave yet and to stay just one more week. If only he knew how fragile my soul is, how terrified I am of myself; I am terrified of suicide, despair, my desire to be entertained…Everything
terrifies
me, and mainly I terrify myself…I don't know whether he'll listen to my entreaties. He is always insisting that he only lives in Moscow
for my sake
, and that it's torture for him! Which is to say I torture him. Yet he is far gloomier in Yasnaya Polyana, and I know that despite what he says he actually finds city life very interesting and entertaining and it only occasionally tires him.

 

16th April
. Lev Nikolaevich was sculpted today by Prince Trubetskoy, who has come from Italy and is in fact an Italian citizen. He is apparently considered a very good sculptor. Nothing visible so far. He has made a start on a huge bust. L.N. is being kind to me again and we are on good terms. Yesterday evening my nerves were in a terrible state—almost abnormal.

 

18th April
. Lyova has come. He has decided to sell the house* through some broker, without consulting me in advance. Any sort of trouble or change terrifies me at present. And I am very sorry about this house, as I had reserved it for myself, and shall now be left almost penniless, with money owing on the new edition. It would cost me a great deal to buy this house too—almost 58,000 rubles. Trubetskoy has done more work on his sculpture of Lev Nikolaevich, and I can now see how exceptionally talented he is.

 

19th April
. Tanya had an extremely painful operation on her nose. They pulled out a tooth and got through the opening to her nose to let out the pus. She is now very ill, weak and pale. I feel so sorry for her and long to stroke her, comfort her and kiss her, but one never does, and just feels wretched instead. I dismissed Mlle Aubert today and hired a new governess for Sasha, who is much quieter already. Trubetskoy is still working on his bust of Lev Nikolaevich, and it's extremely good—majestic, distinctive and lifelike.

We had a visit from S.T. Morozov, an ailing merchant who has just finished a course at the university and wants to lead a better life. He gave Lev Nikolaevich 1,000 rubles for the starving peasants. On Wednesday I am going with L.N. to visit Ilya at Grinevka, where L.N. will stay and help the poverty-stricken peasants in the surrounding countryside.

 

21st April
. L.N. and I were going to leave for Nikolskoe and Grinevka yesterday to see our sons, and I was so excited by it all—the trip, the spring and our grandchildren. But we decided to postpone it again until tomorrow evening, as Trubetskoy hadn't finished his bust and it was so good it seemed a pity not to let him do so. He has caught perfectly the tilt of the head, the expression of the eyes and body—it is beautifully and expressively conceived, although I am disturbed by that unfinished quality the sculptor is so pleased about. Lev Nikolaevich is in a great hurry to leave, as he has 2,000 rubles in charitable donations, which he wants to give to the peasants in the most poverty-stricken areas.

I visited the notary and the bank this morning, and when I got back I packed my things and my husband's. (I had laid in a good stock of vegetarian supplies, bread and so on.) Sergei Ivanovich called this evening, and L.N. and he had a fascinating and very lively conversation in which Trubetskoy also took part. They talked about art and the Conservatoire, about how short life is and how best to make use of one's time so as to spend each moment profitably—for work, service, people (I put that in myself) and happiness. I was delighted to see that L.N. no longer treated this marvellous man as an enemy.

 

29th April
. Trubetskoy finished his bust of Lev Nikolaevich on the 23rd, and it is excellent. That evening L.N. and I left for Grinevka. We travelled first class; it was very crowded. That evening on the train I heated up some porridge for L.N. that I had brought ready-cooked. First he said he would do it himself and grabbed the hot saucepan lid, burning his fingers. I offered to get him some water to ease the pain and he stubbornly refused. But without saying anything I bought him a mug of water anyway, and the moment he dipped in his fingers he felt better. But it meant he slept badly that night.

In Grinevka we were met by our sons Ilya and Andryusha on horseback, and by our grandchildren Annochka and Misha, who were on foot. It was delightful to see them again and arrive in their village. L.N. set to work at once. He travelled round the villages making enquiries about the famine. It is worst of all in Nikolskoe and the Mtsensk district. They eat bread there once a day and that's not enough, and the cattle have either been sold or eaten or are frightfully thin. There is no disease. L.N. is organizing canteens.* We sent Andryusha off to Oryol to discover the price of bread. We walked around Grinevka a lot. I read some French with Annochka, sewed for the boys, looked after all four children and did some painting and drawing with them. I also had to keep an eye on their atrocious cook to make sure he didn't prepare anything too horrible for Lev Nikolaevich. But Ilya and Sonya's housekeeping is so wretchedly meagre and inadequate.
I
don't mind, but I am afraid Lev Nikolaevich's stomach won't tolerate the bad food and he'll fall ill.

I didn't at all like Ilya's behaviour at home. He takes no interest in the children, he is rude to the peasants, he has no serious interests and cares for nothing but horses. Sonya on the other hand is kind to the peasants, gives them medical treatment and takes the trouble to
see they are properly fed, and distributes flour and buckwheat to the women and children.

We also visited our son Seryozha in Nikolskoe. He is still wretchedly miserable. He keeps busy with his music and has written a lovely song, which Sonya sang very sweetly for us with her attractive young voice.

L.N. wasn't in a happy state. There was something dispirited and despondent about our relations, which saddened me very much. And I couldn't have been gentler or more attentive to him.

I was sorry to have to leave him in Grinevka. But then perhaps it's better for us to part for a while!

On my way back to Moscow I stopped briefly at Yasnaya Polyana, and after Grinevka I was in ecstasies over the beauty of the Yasnaya countryside. I dashed about the garden and woods, picking lungwort and planting saplings in the park, then I tidied the house and prepared a room for Lev Nikolaevich.

On the 28th, yesterday, there was the first thunderstorm and the first cuckoo. The trees are turning green, and there is cheerful hard work on all sides, planting the kitchen garden, digging round the apple trees and clearing the orchards. Dora and Lyova were friendly and cheerful. She is a lovely woman, cultured and even-tempered. They too are digging their newly laid-out little garden and decorating the house, in readiness for her confinement and the arrival of her parents.

I returned to Moscow this morning…and am wretched here. Sergei Nikolaevich came with his daughter Masha. Lyovochka will be sorry to have missed his brother.

 

1st May
. I didn't write yesterday, my life is empty. This morning a pupil from the 1st Gymnasium called Veselkin brought round 18 rubles and 50 kopecks, which his comrades had collected to give to the starving. These contributions from young souls and poor people move one to tears. Then Brashnin's widow brought 203 rubles, and a woman called Kopteva from Zurich sent me another 200. I am sending it all on to Lev Nikolaevich.

I had a letter today from Sonya saying that L.N. was fit and well and was continuing to travel around visiting the needy, but I still haven't had a word from him. My warm feelings for him are again beginning to cool. I have written him two letters, filled with sincere love and expressing my desire for spiritual closeness, and he hasn't written me so much as a word!

 

5th May
. I had two letters from L.N. today. He is cheerful and well, thank God. He says he has opened eight canteens and has no more money. It always seemed to me that it was enough to feed one or two people—not several hundred. But today nine canteens suddenly seemed so paltry when one thinks of all the millions of poor people. We haven't appealed for money, as L.N. isn't strong enough to do all the work, but if we did, people would certainly send us a lot.

 

10th May
. This morning I read proofs, then went to collect theatre tickets, then on to the Dunaevs' to try to find an assistant for Lev Nikolaevich in his famine work. They suggested Strakhov, who would be excellent. Today I read Chertkov's letter to L.N. The whole letter is unnatural—all the same old arguments about the struggle with the flesh, money and the sin of possessing it, but the fact is he is in debt all over the place, and is asking Tanya for a loan of 10,000 rubles.*

It's such
hypocrisy, that's
what I can't endure. Which of us does
not
struggle with our passions? And what a struggle it is too! Sometimes you feel it is draining you of all your strength, and you have none left. What sort of passions do they have anyway? They're all so dull and austere…Besides, if you have passions you should keep quiet about them, not perpetually shout about them.

This evening I went to the theatre with Seryozha, Andryusha and Sasha to see a benefit performance of
Der Freischütz
, which the Conservatoire students had put on to raise money for the starving. I was sitting in the second row of the stalls, the same row as Sergei Ivanovich.

 

19th May (Yasnaya Polyana)
. A lot of coming and going these last few days. I packed up and moved the whole house, Sasha, and her new Swiss governess, Mlle Kothing, to Yasnaya. The servants all left Moscow on 15th May, and Sasha and I arrived at the empty Yasnaya house on the morning of the 16th. This is the second year I have come here like this! The horses, the cow, the grand piano and the boxes arrived later the same day, and we all threw ourselves into unpacking and tidying up; we had dinner and supper with Lyova and Dora, who made us very welcome. I was off again to Grinevka to see Lev Nikolaevich on the morning of the 17th, and was delighted to see him and my children and grandchildren. But my warm feelings are always drowned in cold water. When I arrived, Lev Nikolaevich had some sectarian sitting with him to whom he was reading his article.
My arrival interrupted him, and he was slightly cross about this, although he tried hard not to show it. I went out for a long walk in the garden with my darling little grandsons Misha and Andryusha, and we wandered all over the place while I told them nature stories about the flowers, the apple trees and the insects. I enjoyed myself with them for about three hours, and after dinner I again went in to see Lev Nikolaevich. The sectarian was with him again, this time reciting some long verses of a spiritual nature which had been composed for sectarians to sing, and once again L.N. irritably sent me packing. I left the room and burst into tears. We hadn't seen each other for nearly three weeks; our life in Moscow, our children, Misha's exams, Tanya—none of it means a thing to him. When he realized I was upset he came looking for me and excused himself with some embarrassment.