The Diaries of Sofia Tolstoy (58 page)

After the business with the stolen diaries, I managed to get Chertkov to write a note undertaking to finish his work on them as soon as possible and to give them straight back to L.N.*

I find Sasha's behaviour very painful.* My daughter has betrayed me. If someone urged her to draw her father away from me, telling her this was for the sake of his peace of mind, she would do so at once. Today she shocked me by holding a secret whispered conversation with her father and Chertkov, constantly looking over her shoulder and running out of the room to see whether I had heard what they were saying about me. They have surrounded me with an impenetrable wall. I sit and pine in my solitary confinement and take this as a punishment “for my sins”, the cross I must bear.

 

2nd July
. I am incapable of doing anything, I have been too upset by my recent discussions with Sasha. What spite, what coldness, what injustice! We are growing ever more estranged. How sad it is! Wise, impartial old Maria Schmidt talked to me, which I found a great help. She urged me to rise above Chertkov's criticisms and curses; she said when my daughters pestered me to go and live “elsewhere” with Lev Nikolaevich, since he finds it intolerable now in Yasnaya, they were talking rubbish, as his visitors and petitioners would find him wherever he went, and it would make matters no easier, and it would be folly to disrupt our life in our old age.

Lev Nikolaevich rode over to visit the Chertkovs, and was evidently exhausted by the heat.

A crowd of people arrived after dinner, and my son Lyova got home in time for dinner in a lively, happy mood. He is delighted to be back in Russia and to see Yasnaya Polyana and his family again.

Chertkov's mother came. She is a good-looking woman, extremely aged, very agitated and not quite normal. She is a “Radstockist”,* a kind of sectarian, and believes in redemption; she believes that Christ dwells within her and that religion is a kind of inspiration.

Lev Nik. had a bath today; his stomach has been upset, but in general his health is not too bad, thank God!

 

3rd July
. Before I was even dressed this morning I learnt that there had been a fire on Tanya's estate at Ovsyannikovo.* The house where the Gorbunovs are living was burnt down, as was Maria Schmidt's cottage. She had spent the night with us, and they had set fire to it while she was away. Everything was burnt, and what distressed her most was that her trunkful of manuscripts was destroyed. She had copied out everything Lev Nik. had ever written and stored it in a trunk, along with 30 letters to her from him.*

It breaks my heart when I remember her rushing up to me, throwing her arms round my neck and sobbing in despair. How could I comfort her? I could only sympathize with all my heart. All day I have been sadly recalling her last words to me: “Darling, we have such a heavenly life in Ovsyannikovo.” She called her cottage her “palace”, and she grieved too for her old three-legged mongrel dog who was burnt to death under the stove.

Tomorrow Sasha is going to Tula to buy things for her immediate needs. We shall replace her clothes and furniture as best we can, but as to
where
she will live I have no idea. She doesn't want to live with us, for she is used to her independence, her cows and her dogs, her own kitchen garden and strawberry bed.

Goldenweiser and Chertkov came this evening, and Lev Nik. played chess with Goldenweiser, while Chertkov sat there looking haughty and unpleasant. Lyova is being sweet and sympathetic and gives me a lot of encouragement, yet I still feel so sad!

I have corrected proofs and am now going to send them off.

 

5th July
. This is no life. Lev Nikolaevich's heart is as cold as ice, Chertkov has taken complete control of him. This morning he went over to see him, and this evening Chertkov came to see us. Lev Nik. was sitting on a low sofa and Chertkov was sitting very close to him, and I was beside myself with rage and jealousy.

They then embarked on a conversation about madness and suicide. I left the room three times, but wanted to stay and drink tea with the others. And as soon as I came back Lev Nikol., turning his back on me and facing his idol, again started talking about suicide and madness, cold-bloodedly discussing it from every angle,* accurately and calculatedly analysing the condition in terms of my present suffering. This evening he cynically told me he had forgotten everything, everything he had ever written. “And what about your old life?” I asked. “And your old relations with those close to you? I suppose now you live only for the present?” “Well yes, I do live only for the present now,” replied Lev Nik. This had a terrible effect on me! I truly believe that a heartbreaking physical death, with our former love intact to the end of our days, would be preferable to this misery.

Something is hanging over me in this house, some great weight is crushing and destroying me.

I was determined to be calm and to be on good terms with Chertkov, but it was no good; still the same icy relations with Lev Nikol., still the same adoration of that idiot.

I called on his mother today, to return her visit and see my grandchildren.* She is a harmless old woman; I was particularly struck by her large ears, and the quantities of food she ate in my presence—sour milk, berries, bread: she simply never stopped.

I sewed some shirts for Maria Schmidt, made her a skirt on the machine and cut out some handkerchiefs. I had a headache.

 

6th July
. I didn't sleep all night. I kept seeing the hateful Chertkov before my eyes, sitting very close to Lev Nik.

I went for a swim on my own this morning, praying as I went. I prayed for this delusion to go away. If it doesn't, I nurture the idea of drowning myself in my beloved Voronka. Today I was remembering that time long ago when Lev Nik. came to the river where I was swimming alone…All that is forgotten now; what we need is quiet, affectionate friendship, sympathy and closeness…

 

7th July, morning
. Rain, wind and damp. I have proofread
The Fruits of Enlightenment
and finished sewing Maria Schmidt's skirt. I took the proofs of
Resurrection
from Lev Nik.'s divan, before Chertkov could sniff them out and take them away. Lev Nik. went to see his idol today, despite the weather, and I realized that although his last diaries are very interesting, they have all been
composed
for Chertkov and those to whom it pleases Mr Chertkov to show them! And now Lev Nikol. never
dares
to write a word of love for me in them, for they all go straight to Chertkov and he wouldn't like this. What made them valuable in my hands was their sincerity, their power of thought and feeling.

I have guarded Lev Nik.'s manuscripts very badly. But he never gave them to me—before he used to keep them with him, in the drawers of his divan, and never allowed anyone to touch them. When I decided to move them to the museum we weren't living in Moscow, so I could only move them and couldn't sort them out. And when we were living in Moscow I was preoccupied with my large family and business that couldn't be ignored, which was our daily bread.

Lyova also quarrelled with that rude, uncouth idiot yesterday.

It's pouring with rain, but despite this Lev Nikol. rode over to Chertkov's, and I waited for him in despair on the porch, worrying and cursing that he lives so close to us.

 

Evening
. No, Lev Nik. has not been taken from me yet, thank God! I went into his room as he was going to bed and said: “Promise me
you won't ever leave me without telling me.” And he replied: “I wouldn't ever do such a thing—I promise I shall never leave you. I love you,” and his voice trembled. I burst into tears and embraced him, saying how afraid I was of losing him, and that despite some innocent, foolish passions in the past I had never stopped loving him for a moment, and still in my old age loved him more than anyone else in the world. Lev Nik. said he felt exactly the same, that I had nothing to fear, that the bond between us was too strong for anyone to destroy, and I realized this was true, and I felt happy. I went into my room, and returned a moment later and thanked him for taking this weight off my heart.

I said goodnight to him then, and went off to my room, and after a little while the door opened and he came in.

“Don't say anything,” he said. “I just want to tell you our conversation made me happy too, so very happy…” He burst into tears again, embraced me and kissed me…“Mine! Mine!” I said in my heart. I shall be much calmer now, I shall come to my senses, I shall be kinder to everyone, and try to get on better with Chertkov.

The cocks are crowing, dawn is breaking. Night. The trains rumble, the wind rustles the leaves on the trees…

 

9th July
. Lord, when will these vile episodes and intrigues end! My daughter-in-law Olga arrived, and there was yet another discussion about my relations with Chertkov. He was rude to me again, and I didn't say one impolite word to him—and they all go into corners and pick over my bones, gossip about me and accuse me of I know not what. I cannot get used to the fact that some people simply
lie—
I find it quite astonishing. Sometimes one is horrified and tries naively to establish the truth, to remind them or explain…But all such attempts are useless; people often
simply don't want the truth
, it is neither necessary nor to their advantage. But I shall say no more about it, I have enough worries as it is. Today Lev Nikol. and Lyova went for a ride through the woods. There was a large black rain cloud ahead, but they rode straight into it, and Lev Nikol. was wearing just a thin white shirt, and Lyova a jacket.

They arrived home soaked to the skin. I wanted to rub Lev Nikolaevich's back, chest and legs with spirit of camphor, but he angrily rejected my help and only grudgingly agreed to let his valet Ilya Vasilevich give him a massage.

Olga got angry for some reason and took her children away without staying for dinner. I was feeling quite debilitated this afternoon and went to my room, where I fell asleep and unfortunately slept on and off all evening.

Chertkov and Goldenweiser came, and Lev Nik.'s follower, the economist Nikolaev, who evidently annoys him with his talk. L.N. played chess with Goldenweiser, who then played the piano for a while. That heavenly Chopin Mazurka transported my soul! My son Lyova is very anxious about his foreign passport; they wouldn't give him one in Tula, demanding evidence from the police that he was free to leave Russia, and he is under arrest for publishing two pamphlets in 1905 called ‘What Is the Solution?' and ‘The Construction of Hell'. It's a very worrying business.

 

10th July
. Lev Nikolaevich naturally didn't
dare
write in his diary how he came into my room late at night, wept, embraced me and said how happy he was that we had reached some understanding and closeness. Instead he writes: “I must restrain myself.” What does this mean? No one could possibly love or care for him as I do, no one could desire his happiness as I do. Yet he gives his diaries to Chertkov, who will publish them and repeat to the whole world what he said to me—that a wife like me would make one want to shoot oneself or run off to America.

L.N. rode with Chertkov into the forest today, where they had some sort of discussion. They gave Bulgakov a horse too, but made sure he kept his distance as they didn't want him to disturb their privacy. It is
I
who have to “restrain myself” every day at the sight of that odious figure.

In the forest they dismounted twice for some reason, and in the gulley Chertkov pointed his camera at Lev Nik. and took his photograph. As they were riding back, Chertkov noticed he had lost his watch, and got as far as the balcony before telling Lev Nik. where he thought he had lost it. And L.N., looking so pathetic and submissive, promised to go to the gulley after dinner
to look for Mr Chertkov's watch
.

We had some very pleasant guests to dinner—Davydov, Salomon and the artist Gué. Davydov brought me
Resurrection
, which he had read for the new edition, but I still have a great deal of work to do on it. My son Seryozha is also working on it.

I thought Lev Nik. would be embarrassed to drag these respectable people off to the gulley in search of Mr Chertkov's watch. But he
lives in such fear of him that even the thought of being made to look
ridiculous
didn't deter him from taking a crowd of 8 out to the forest. We all stamped around in the wet hay, but couldn't find the watch—heaven knows where that absent-minded idiot lost it! Why did he have to take a photograph in the soft wet hay anyway? Then for the first time this summer Lev Nik. asked me out for a walk with him. I was overjoyed, and waited anxiously to get away from the gulley and the watch. But I was wrong, of course. The following morning Lev Nik. got up early, went to the village, summoned some peasant lads, went off to the gulley again and found the watch.

This evening I felt quite ill and was thrown into another fit of despair. I lay down on the bare boards of the balcony and remembered how it was on that same balcony 48 years ago, when I was still a girl, that I first became aware of my love for Lev Nikolaevich. It was a cold night, and I liked the idea that I should find my death where I had found his love. But I had evidently not earned this yet.

Lev Nikolaevich heard a rustle, came out to the balcony and shouted at me to go away, as I was preventing him from sleeping. I then went to the garden, and lay on the damp ground for two hours in my thin dress. I was chilled through, and longed to die—and I still do.

They raised the alarm, and Dushan Makovitsky, Gué and Lyova came out and shouted at me and helped me up off the ground. I was shaking all over from cold and nerves.

Well, what now! What is to be done! I cannot live without his love and tenderness, and he cannot give it to me. 4 in the morning…