by Cathy Porter
6th September. Lev Nik.’s big toe is red and swollen after yesterday’s ride, and he keeps saying: “It’s senile gangrene and I shall surely die.”
8th September. I felt much calmer when I arrived in Kochety, but now it has all started again. I didn’t sleep all night and got up early. Drankov filmed us all again for the cinematograph, then filmed a village wedding they had put on especially for his benefit.
When I eventually plucked up the courage to ask Lev Nik. when he was returning home, he grew furious, shouting angrily about his “freedom”, waving his hands and making the most unattractive gestures. Then to cap it all he said he regretted his promise to me never to see Chertkov.
I received a letter from Chertkov—a lying pharisaical letter in which he asked for a reconciliation with the evident desire that I should let him into the house again.
9th September. I wept and sobbed all day; I ache all over, my head, my heart and my stomach hurt, and my soul is torn apart by suffering!* Lev Nik. tried to be a little kinder to me, but his egotism and malevolence won’t let him concede to me in anything—not for anything will he tell me if he is planning to return to Yasnaya, and if so, when.*
I wrote a letter to Chertkov, but haven’t posted it yet. This man is the cause of all my suffering and I cannot reconcile myself to him.
10th September. I stayed in bed all morning, then took a long walk round the garden. Lev Nik. flew into a rage with me again today and said: “I shall never give in to you on anything ever again! I bitterly regret my promise never to see Chertkov, it was a terrible mistake!”
Then he got up, and taking both my hands in his, he stared at me, smiled so sweetly, then burst into tears. “Thank God!” I said to myself. “He still has a glimmer of love for me in his soul!”
12th September. I avoided meeting Lev Nik. all day. His stubborn refusal to tell me approximately when he might be leaving has made me feel desperate. His heart has turned to stone! By the time I left I had suffered so deeply from his coldness and was sobbing so wildly that the servant who was seeing me off started crying too. I didn’t even look at my husband, my daughter and the others. But then Lev Nik. suddenly came round to the other side of the trap and said to me with tears in his eyes: “Well, give me another kiss then, I’ll be back very, very soon…”
13th September. I have been working hard on the proofs, and try to be calm and remind myself of Lev Nik.’s words: “I’ll be back very, very soon.” Annenkova and Klechkovsky came to visit me.
It’s hard to talk to anyone, for they all consider me abnormal and think I am being unjust to my husband. But I only write true facts in my diary. People can draw their own conclusions from them. I am tormented by life and material concerns.
17th September. My dream that my husband would return for my name day has been dashed; he hasn’t even written, nor have any of the rest of them from Kochety—apart from my dear granddaughter Tanechka, who sent me a greetings card. The others just sent an impersonal collective telegram!
My name day was the day when Lev Nik. proposed to me. What did he do to that eighteen-year-old Sonechka Behrs, who gave him her whole life, her love and her trust? He has tortured me with his coldness, his cruelty and his extreme egotism.
I went to Taptykovo with Varvara Mikhailovna. Olga and her children, Ilyushok and my granddaughter and namesake Sofia Andreevna, were very sweet to me.
19th September (Moscow). I corrected proofs, packed my suitcase and left this afternoon for Moscow on business. In Tula I met my son Seryozha, to my great joy, and he said his wife and sons were travelling to Moscow in the same carriage.
21st September. I was preoccupied with business in Moscow on the 20th and 21st. I also paid a visit to Taneev’s old nurse to find out how he was. He was still in the country. I should love to see him and hear him play. But this is not possible now; I no longer love him as I did, we don’t see each other any more for some reason, and I have done nothing for a very long time to bring this about.
22nd September. I arrived back in Yasnaya this morning. It is a bright frosty day, and my soul is a hell of grief and despair. I went round the garden and wept myself senseless, yet I am still alive, walking, breathing and eating—although I cannot sleep. The frost has withered the flowers, like my life. It looks so desolate, and my soul is desolate too. Will the spark of joy and happiness be rekindled in our lives?
Not a word from Lev Nik. He couldn’t give me one day of his epicurean life at the Sukhotins’, with his daily games of chess and vint. So when he, Sasha and Nakovitsky returned tonight I met him with reproaches instead of joy, burst into tears, then went off to my room to let him rest after the journey.
23rd September. Our wedding anniversary. I stayed in my room for a long time this morning, weeping on my own. I wanted to go in to my husband, but opening the door to his room I heard him dictating something to Bulgakov, and went off to wander about Yasnaya Polyana recalling the happy times—what few of them there were—in my 48-year marriage.
I then asked Lev Nik. if we could have our photograph taken together. He agreed, but the photograph didn’t come out, as Bulgakov is inexperienced and didn’t know how to do it.
L.N. was a little nicer to me this evening, and I felt easier in my mind. It was a comfort to feel I had found my “other half” again.
24th September. Lev Nikol.’s kindness to me didn’t last long, and he shouted at me again today. Olga’s former French governess told me in Taptykovo that they had read a tale by L.N. called ‘Childhood Wisdom’ at the Chertkovs’, so I asked him to let me read it. When it transpired that there wasn’t a copy of it in the house, even in Lev Nik.’s personal possession, I said of course Chertkov was in a hurry to take the manuscript, as he is nothing but a collector. This made Lev Nikol. frightfully angry and he shouted at me. I started crying inconsolably and went off to the fir plantation, where I sawed some branches, then developed photographs and read proofs, and saw almost nothing of my husband for the rest of the day.
25th September. I am happy he is actually here with me, and am beginning to feel calmer. But his soul is so distant!
He is reading Malinovsky’s Blood Revenge* with great interest at the moment, and went for a ride today.
26th September. As I was passing Lev N.’s study today I saw that Chertkov’s portrait, which I had removed to the far wall while he was away and replaced with a portrait of his father, was again hanging in its former place above the armchair where he always sits.
The fact that he had put it back drove me to despair—he can’t bear to part with it now he isn’t seeing Chertkov every day—so I took it down, tore it into pieces and threw it down the lavatory. Lev Nik. was furious of course, and quite rightly accused me of denying him his freedom. He is possessed by the idea at present, although never in his life has he bothered about it before—he never gave it a thought. What did he need his “freedom” for when we always loved each other and wanted to make each other happy?
I went to my room, found a toy pistol and tried to fire it, thinking I would buy myself a real one. I fired it a second time when Lev Nik. returned from his ride, but he didn’t hear.
Maria Schmidt, thinking I was planning to kill myself, without finding out what was really happening, wrote to Sasha in Taptykovo begging her to come home as her mother had shot herself—or some such story.
I knew nothing about this until that night, when I heard a carriage approaching the house and someone knocking at the door. It was very dark and I couldn’t imagine who it might be. I went downstairs and to my amazement saw Sasha and Varvara Mikhailovna standing there. “What has happened?” I asked. And all of a sudden two voices were showering me with such angry words and foul names that I was stunned. I went upstairs, followed by Sasha and Varvara Mikhailovna, still shouting at me. Eventually I lost my temper with them. What have I ever done to those two? Why was I to blame?
Unfortunately I started shouting too—I said I would throw them both out of the house tomorrow, and dismiss Varvara
Mikhailovna, who merely lives off us and licks Sasha’s boots. Maria Schmidt, realizing her mistake, began to cry and begged the two loud-mouths to leave the room.
But these shrews were in no hurry to calm down, and next morning they packed their things, took a couple of horses, the dogs and the parrot, and set off for Sasha’s house at Telyatinki. It is they who are in the wrong; they lost their tempers and acted disgracefully.
29th September. Relations with Lev Nik. are calmer and I am happy! I sat with him after he had had his lunch today, and I ate something too—pancakes with curd cheese. It was wonderful to see the joy on his face when after asking who the pancakes were for, I said, “For myself.” “Ah, how glad I am that you’re eating again!” he said. Then he brought me a pear and tenderly begged me to eat it. When other people aren’t here he is generally kind and affectionate to me, just as he used to be, and I feel he is mine again. But he hasn’t been cheerful lately, and this worries me. I was very active all day: I sawed some dry branches off the young fir trees, then drove to Kolpna to buy rye and flour. A lovely bright frosty autumn day.
1st October. Goldenweiser came this morning, and played chess with Lev N. this afternoon. Sasha arrived too, and took Goldenweiser back to the Chertkovs. I was going to suggest that L.N. went there too, but the moment I mentioned the idea to my husband, I started choking back the tears and shaking with agitation; the blood rushed to my head and I felt I was being flayed alive. When I saw the joy on Lev N.’s face at the prospect of seeing Chertkov again, I felt desperate, and went off to my room to cry. But my dear husband didn’t visit Chertkov, bless him, and instead took another ride through the woods and gulleys, and exhausted himself. I finished work on Childhood and read the proofs of ‘On Money’.* It is windy and pouring with rain.
2nd October. This morning dear Pavel Biryukov arrived; he is always so kind, gentle, intelligent and understanding, and I wept as I told him of my grief. He dislikes Chertkov too, and understood me completely. Lev Nik. had a stomach upset, ate nothing, didn’t leave the house and slept all day. After dinner we had a good talk, my son Seryozha arrived and everyone played chess.
3rd October. Lev Nik. took a walk this morning, then went for a short ride and returned stiff with cold; his legs were numb and he felt so weak he collapsed on the bed and fell asleep without taking off his cold boots. He was so late for dinner I grew worried and went to see him. He looked vacant, kept picking up the clock and checking the time, talking about dinner, then falling into a doze. Then to my horror he started to rave and things went from bad to worse! Convulsions in his face, terrible shuddering in his legs, unconscious, delirious raving. Three men couldn’t hold down his legs, they were thrashing so violently. But I didn’t lose my composure, thank God. I filled hot-water bottles at desperate speed, put mustard plasters on his calves and wiped his face with eau de Cologne. Tanya gave him smelling salts to sniff, we wrapped his cold legs in a warm blanket and brought him rum and coffee to drink. But the paroxysms continued, and he had five more convulsions. As I was clasping my husband’s feet I felt acute despair at the thought of losing him.
I brought the little icon with which his Aunt Tatyana blessed her Lyovochka when he went off to war, and attached it to his bed. He regained consciousness during the night, but could remember nothing of what had happened to him. His head and limbs ached, and his temperature was 37.7 at first, then 36.7.
All night I sat beside my patient on a chair and prayed for him. He slept quite well, groaning occasionally, and the shuddering stopped. My daughter Tanya arrived in the night.
4th October. Tanya’s birthday; we all celebrated. The others went off to visit the Chertkovs. Lev Nik. has regained consciousness and has his memory back now, although he keeps asking what happened and what he said. His tongue is coated, his liver hurts slightly and he has eaten nothing. We summoned Doctor Shcheglov from Tula, who gave him Vichy water and rhubarb with soda. I made him a vodka compress for the night.
Sasha and I had a moving and heartfelt reconciliation, and decided to forget our quarrel and both work to make Lev Nik.’s life as peaceful and happy as possible. But my God! How hard this will be if it means resuming relations with Chertkov. It is impossible, I am afraid this sacrifice will be beyond me. Well, everything is in God’s hands! Meanwhile the joy of Lev Nik.’s recovery has made us all calmer and kinder to one another.
5th October. Lev N. has been better today. He ate some rusks and a whole gingerbread, and drank so much coffee and milk I grew quite alarmed. He took some Vichy water, then had dinner with the rest of us. Seryozha left this morning, and Tanya spent the day at Ovsyannikovo. Sasha and Varvara Mikhailovna have returned, and life is now more cheerful. Tanya is being very harsh; she keeps scolding and threatening us, then assuring us she wants to help make the peace. I feel shattered; the left side of my stomach is hurting and I have a headache.
6th October. Lev Nik. is better, but still very weak, and says he has heartburn and an aching liver. He got out of bed this morning and was going out for a walk later, but he hankered after his daily ride, and rode off to Bulgakov without telling me, which upset me terribly.
We had visitors. It’s better when there are guests, it isn’t so depressing. I asked them for some advice on the new edition, and we spent the evening chatting quietly. Sasha went to see Chertkov during the day, and with my consent she invited him to come and visit Lev Nikol. Chertkov wrote a mean and characteristically unclear letter*—and didn’t come. Thank God for at least one day without that loathsome man!
7th October. There was yet another discussion about Chertkov, then Tanya and Sasha went to see him and he promised to come at 8 this evening. But I arranged with the doctor that he would order Lev Nik. to take a bath this evening—for this would be good for his liver and would shorten his visit.
So that is what happened. I spent the day preparing myself for this dreaded visit, worrying and unable to concentrate on anything, and when I heard the sound of his sprung carriage through the ventilation window I had such palpitations I thought I would die. I rushed to the French window and took out the binoculars, straining to catch any special expressions of joy. But L.N., realizing that I was watching, merely shook Chertkov’s hand with a blank expression. Then they had a long talk about something and Chertkov leant closer to L.N. and showed him something. Meanwhile I started his bath, and sent Ilya Vasilevich to tell him the water was ready and would get cold if he didn’t hurry. Chertkov then said goodbye and left.
I felt terribly shaken all evening. What an effort it cost me to let that idiot come, and how I struggled to control my feelings!
8th October. I got up early to see my daughter Tanya off, then went back to bed feeling ill and exhausted. When I had got up, Lev Nikolaevich came in to see me, and as I was already dressed I followed him out. He was flustered and evidently displeased about something. He asked me to listen to him in silence, but I couldn’t help interrupting him several times. What he had to say, of course, concerned my jealous, hostile behaviour to Chertkov. He put it to me, in an extremely agitated and angry manner, that I had made a fool of myself and must now stop, that he didn’t love Chertkov exclusively, and there were many other people who were much closer to him in every way, such as Leonid Semyonov, for instance, and some complete stranger called Nikolaev, who has just sent him a book and lives in Nice.* This of course is simply not true. I have now released him from his promise not to see Chertkov again, but he saw what his meeting with that repulsive idiot cost me yesterday, and he reproached me for never giving him any peace of mind, as he has my disapproving attitude to Chertkov constantly hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles. But why do they have to meet at all?
9th October. I tidied the books—a dull chore!—and was so tired I spent the whole afternoon asleep, or rather in bed. I read a small part of the book by this unknown Nikolaev from Nice, and liked it very much. It is logical and well thought-out—what a pity L.N. doesn’t have people like that around him.
Lev N. and I
have lived lives of such moral and physical purity! And now he has revealed the most intimate details of our life to Chertkov and co., and this repulsive man draws his own conclusions and observations from his letters and diaries, which are often written merely to please him—often in his tone of voice too—and then he writes to Lev N. about it, for instance:
1st October 1909
I am particularly anxious to collect all such letters relevant to your life, so that I may in due course provide an explanation of your position for the benefit of those who have been seduced by hearsay and rumour…
I can well imagine the sort of “explanation” he will provide, and what sort of “selection” he will make when he launches his attack on L.N.’s family—concentrating especially on the moments of struggle…
11th October. I went out to the fir plantation and sawed some branches, then sat down exhausted on the bench and listened to the silence. How I love my plantation! I used to come and sit here with Vanechka. I have done very little work. I am in too much pain.
My daughter-in-law Sonya has left. She too has suffered with her husband, poor woman, for Ilya has fallen in love with someone else and ruined himself—and he has 7 children! We had a good talk to each other as wives and mothers, and we understood each other perfectly. The writer I. Nazhivin has left too. I told him everything I had endured with Chertkov, my husband and my daughters.
12th October. Chertkov has now persuaded Lev N. to give instructions that the copyright shouldn’t go to his children after his death, but should be public property,* as are his last works. And when L.N. said he would talk to his family about it, Chertkov was hurt and wouldn’t let him! Scoundrel and despot! He has taken this poor old man in his dirty hands and forced him into these despicable deeds. But if I live, I shall have my revenge, and he won’t be able to do any such thing. He has stolen my husband’s heart from me and the bread from my children’s and grandchildren’s mouths,* while his son has millions of stray rubles in an English bank, quite apart from the fact that those rubles were partly earned by me, because of all the help I gave L.N. Today I told Lev Nikol. I knew about these instructions of his, and he looked sad and guilty but said nothing. Yes, an evil spirit has guided Chertkov’s hand; it is no coincidence that Lev Nik. wrote in his diary: “Chertkov has drawn me into a struggle. And this struggle is painful and hateful to me.”* I am in a hurry to publish the new edition before Lev Nik. does something desperate; he is capable of anything in his present mood.