V.
Kisses to Mother.
Tomorrow at the German consulate, I will try again to get an extension of my passport. If permission comes from Prague, it would be helpful for you to telegraph it here.
____________________
[APCS]
[postmarked 13 May 1937]
TO: 8, Koulova, Dejvici-Praha, Tchékoslovaquie
c/o Fondaminsky, 130, av. de Versailles
[Paris]
My darling, today I thrust my way to the Germans, but the only thing they could suggest was for me to travel to Czechoslovakia through Berlin and to extend my passport there – nonsense, of course. Tomorrow I am going, through Maklakov, to a French office for the immediate issue of a French Nans. passport. I’m waiting for news from you about the Czech visa. (I’m writing from a restaurant – for some reason, people are gradually ceasing to invite me, which will set me back 10 francs or so today). I seem never in my life to have been in such a state of irritation, despondency and agonizing indecisiveness. If it turns out that I cannot immediately get the French pass. and if, from the other side, they cannot send me my visa from Prague – without that idiotic reserve of 60 days – then I will ask you to come here. I have asked Lyusya for advice – he advises me to try again. Cela devient ridicule – our separation. I think my little boy won’t recognize me now. As for you, I see you clearly only in my dreams, my love.
Tomorrow my tooth will be filled – and if there is time, I’ll have to have two roots pulled out – my gum’s swollen and rotting. Tonight, I’ll be at Kalashnikov’s, I met him in the métro. I can’t tell you how passionately I want to come to Czechoslovakia. I sent you 750 crowns yesterday. My happiness ...
V.
Kisses to Mother!
____________________
[ALS, 1 p.]
[postmarked 14 May 1937]
TO: 8, Koulova, Dejvici-Praha, Tchekoslovaquie
c/o Fondaminsky, 130, av. de Versailles
[Paris]
My darling, no need to write me these angry letters. I’m doing all I can to get out of here – but you too have to understand that without the permission from Prague, the Czechs won’t give me any visa (not a resort one, nor the other kind). Maklakov has written to the local Czech big-shot asking if they can give me a visa anyway, but I won’t get it all the same till Monday. Je ne fais qu’ haunt the thresholds of bureaucratic offices, since I need 1) either the Czechs to give me a visa in spite of the insufficient expiration date – closing in every day – of my German passport (for I was issued the French aller et retour only within that date limit) 2) or to be issued the French Nans. passport – for which I will be at the Sûreté today. I implore you to remain patient for a few more days – and not to do anything foolish, like return to Berlin. If you go anywhere, then here, of course. But I am sure – at least they promised me this – that early next week I will, finally, get to Prague. Your letters only intensify my suffering. I am unbearably, in any case, worried by your plight – especially since you, evidently, are not going to Franzen[s]bad – and how could you go alone anyway. Our letters are turning into some kind of bureaucratic reports, full of red tape, but I adore you and am going crazy myself from this delay. Please do not write me that way, my love, my happiness.
V.
____________________
[ALS, 2 PP.]
[15 May 1937]
TO: 8, Koulova, Dejvici-Praha, Tchékoslovaquie
c/o Fondaminsky, 130, av. de Versailles
[Paris]
My priceless happiness – which, it now seems, I will finally be able to reach. The telegram arrived yesterday avec une allure de swallow. This morning at ten, I was already (they close earlier on Saturday) at the Czech consulate. It turned out that the visa hadn’t yet arrived, although it had been sent. When it was sent, was there a note made about the insufficient duration of my passport? – since it was sent in response not to my special request on that account but to Mother’s previous efforts? Or was it noted anyway? I asked them to note this specially and sent the file number. From the consulate, I rushed to the Czech Legation with a letter to the ambassador from Makl., which he had been writing for four days (!), but he also happened to be away, so I will see him and go to the consulate only on Tuesday morning – and if I get it, I will leave for Prague on Tuesday itself. I dreamt last night that my little one was walking towards me along the pavement, with dirty cheeks, for some reason, and in a dark little coat; I ask him about myself: ‘Who is it?’ and he replies: Volodya Nabokov, with a cunning little smile. I am done with my tooth today – a temporary filling for two or three months, but I have no time to pull out the roots. The swelling has eased a little through rinsing with chamomile. My dear darling, I have a very dim sense of your life in Prague, I feel that you are awfully uncomfortable and uneasy – your comment about the bed-bug told me a great deal. My poor love ... Yesterday I hung about the Sûreté for almost four hours and they promised to arrange the possibility of French passport by ... Thursday, but, of course, if I get the visa on Tuesday, I won’t linger another second here – besides, I do not trust their promises any more. I’m utterly worn out by all this senseless torture – and still more, by the thought of your worrying, your waiting. About the money: Lyusya has 3,100 fr. and 105 pounds. I have taken 1,100 fr. of that to send you, twice (I added from what I had). Besides that I have a silver pound and two hundred francs. I’ll probably scrape what’s needed for the ticket without touching the fund.
A clever review of ‘The Gift’ today by Khodasevich. He visited me the other day. Tonight I am going to the Russian Theatre to the first performance of ‘Azef’. I have been working all these last days on ‘Printemps à F.’, to get it perfect – and I think I have got there, but there were a million corrections and I had to do this three times. I continue to sun myself every day – and have, on the whole, recovered – you know, now I can tell you straight that because of the sufferings – indescribable – that I endured before that treatment, i.e. in February, I’d reached the border of suicide – which they wouldn’t let me cross because of you in my luggage. My love, can it really be true that I will see you soon. Four days, if fate doesn’t let us down. My dear love, I promise you that you will get a thorough rest and that our life in general will be easier and simpler. I’ve become still closer friends with Ilya and V. M. – they are wonderfully [sic]. And I cannot tell you how indebted I am to Kogan-Bernstein, whom I would have owed more than 5,000 fr. (!), had she charged me a cent (a session usually costs 100 fr.!) Try not to worry too much, my love. We shall soon be together, any way. Tell Mother that I kiss her and am not writing to her only because all of my epistolary strength is spent on you.
V.
TELEGRAM
[postmarked 15 May 1937]
[Paris]
NABOKOFF KOULOVA 8 DEJVICI =
SATURDAY NOT HERE YET TILL TUESDAY CLOSED +++
____________________
[APCS]
[postmarked 17 May 1937]
TO: 8, Koulova, Dejvici-Praha, Tchekoslovaquie
c/o Fondaminsky, 130, av. de Versailles
[Paris]
My darling, I have calmed down after your and Mother’s postcard yesterday. Tomorrow is Tuesday at last – I am going for the visa as if it were an exam. For two days now I have been sorting my things – I’m overgrown with letters, manuscripts, and books – not to mention my complicated relationships with the laundress. Tonight, at the Hôtel Meurice, I have a meeting with Flora Grig., who’s already going back to London tomorrow. The performance two days ago was super-bad. My darling, how wildly happy I am to see you. I kiss my little one.
V.
My dear Mummy,
If this nightmare tangle at last gets resolved tomorrow, then on Wednesday evening or Thursday morning I’ll be with you. I simply can’t believe I will see you so soon after all these years. Isn’t he a fine little boy? I embrace you and E. K. and Rostik. Love you.
V.
TELEGRAM
[Paris]
NABOKOFF DEJVICI KOULOVA 8
= VIZA OBTAINED STARTING WEDNESDAY [E]VENING +++
____________________
[APCS]
[postmarked 19 May 1937]
TO: 8, Koulova, Dejvici-Praha, Tchekoslovaquie
c/o Fondaminsky, 130, av. de Versailles
[Paris]
My love, I will leave on Thursday at 10 p.m. and (via Switzerland and Austria) reach Prague on Saturday (!) at 6.20 (!!) a.m. It is impossible for me to travel otherwise – for reasons I’ll explain to you later. How happy I am, my darling! Yesterday I darted between the ambassador and the consul – they tormented me till the very last minute – and today, between the Swiss consulate and the Austrian. Then Lyusya tormented me. I would have left tonight, but it wouldn’t work. I had a very pleasant meeting with Flora. She offers 20 f. a month for six months, starting any time. (I am writing in a cheap, noisily cramped restaurant, very uncomfortable.) Still heaps of little errands. I love you, I am happy, everything is all right. Ida’s husband just died in an automobile crash. Love you, my angel.
V.
The din, the miserable waiter sweating hailstones, the munching Frenchmen. And tomorrow the journey to you, to my little one, to Mother. Poor Aldanov is going round everyone and asking whether Khodasevich’s review is insulting to him. I’m leaving the dinner jacket at the Tatar. I’ve thought up a wonderful story.
____________________
[ALS, 2 PP.]
[postmarked 21 June 1937]
TO: Villa Busch, Marienbad
8, Koulova, Dejvice
[Prague]
Monday
My darling, I would’ve written earlier, but I didn’t know where to, and was afraid that if I sent it to Egerländer, then the letter would boomerang back here. I was at Cook’s, was (just now) at the Italian consulate. The best route, according to Cook’s advice, is this: from Prague the 7.15 direct via Linz to Venice (5.35 the next morning), changing trains there and arriving in Nice at 8.23 p.m. Or we can do it this way: from Prague at 10.40 p.m., Venice at 10.15 p.m., Nice at 3.46 p.m. (i.e. two nights on the road). Both cost 840 cr. in second class and 550 in third. In my opinion, the first of these routes is in any case more convenient than yours, with an overnight in Vienna. Therefore I would suggest that you, my darling, come back here (on Thursday?), spend the night near the station, and set out in the morning (by the way, I have stupidly given my return ticket to the ticket collector in Prague). But here’s the riddle: the transit visa (they almost stamped it on mine, but I decided to take the time to find out what you think) costs 188 crowns for both of us (i.e. the same amount as the entry visa). I will find out how much the Swiss one costs (we will have to pay for the Austrian visa anyway, no matter how much it is), and if it’s the same, we would have to s’exécuter, although that would be abominably expensive – 188. On the other hand, if the Swiss visa is really cheap (in Paris, it cost me nothing), then it would be better for us to go through Paris – what do you think? Thiébaut, evidently, is an idiot; I would like to withdraw ‘Fialta’ from him as soon as I can and pass it straight on to Paulhan for N. R. F. or Mesures. Otherwise I will either have to send another copy from here (I have only three altogether), or write to Denis asking him to call in on Rev. de Paris, pick it up and pass it on to Paulhan (whom, unfortunately, he pestered with his own products, so of course this is risky, in view of Paulhan’s fickleness). Maybe you are right about Doussia, I don’t know ... but in any case I should fix this up too in person. I would give ‘Musique’ to Rev. de Paris, if it turns out that Rev. de France hasn’t taken it. How many days do you want to spend in Marienbad? Will you rest there? Shall I come to you? Won’t it turn out too expensive? By the way, I’ve sat down to a short story, will finish it in three days (for Ilyusha, whom I’m writing to). The letter to Altagracia sailed off on the ‘Hamburg’.
Because of a track repair, my train was an hour and a half late; so it was already eight when I got to the auditorium, without changing. You can imagine how worried Mother was! It was full. I read ‘Fialta’ and ‘The Leonardo’. Then they treated me to beer.
I’m going to the dentist today. He still walks all over my soul as if it was his own bed, my darling, my little bunny. Such shiver and adoration ... And I can[’]t tell you how sorry I am that you were so miserable, my poor, sweet darling. I love and kiss you and him. Write to me sooner whether I should get an Italian visa, and I’ll let you know tomorrow how much the Swiss costs. Greetings to Anyutochka. Mother was very touched by the cigarettes, she thanks and kisses her ... The shoes fit the fat, rude, mad Olga well, although she hinted all the time that her foot was much smaller than yours. The gloves were right for Mother. How’s your liver? I have acquired Kipling and Fargue for you. My darling ...
V.
[APCS]
[postmarked 22 June 1937]
TO: Villa Busch, Marienbad
[Prague]
My darling, a Swiss visa costs nothing (I did not get one all the same, to be cautious, fearing that otherwise the Italians won’t stamp theirs), so you should decide now. I have 240 crowns in my pocket. I still need to pay Rubchik (or whatever his name is) 80 crowns and give the rest to Mother (I’ve given her 100). I’ve spent a lot on trifles, and the taxi cabs that crazy night cost heaps. And I still do not know how much an Austrian visa costs. Decide as soon as you can 1) what visa to get 2) whether I should go on Thursday (or even tomorrow) to Marienbad or wait for you here. I think that tonight, if you send yours express, I will receive a reply to my letter of yesterday and will know what to do. Will we have enough money for everything? I received a letter from Doussia today: vous me voyez navrée, but I have already sent your contrat to Franzen[s]bad (they have not forwarded it to me yet). If I sign it, ‘je porterai les 2,000 fr à M’Feigin’. She adds that before the book’s published she will try to place the translation ‘à la revue dirigée par Barbey’. So. I can’t wait to see you and decide how, from where, and when we will travel. How much will a stopover in Vienna cost us? I can get all the visas in one hour. I kiss you, my dear darling. And him.
V.
1939
____________________
[ALS, 2 PP.]
[3 April 1939]
TO: Hotel Royal Versailles, 31, r. Le Marois, Paris XVI
5, Brechin Place, S.W. 7
[London]
3–IV–39
10 a.m.
My darling,
First of all, I adore you; secondly, I have had the pleasantest of journeys, although the sea was terrible, I couldn’t stand on my feet, one little old lady was almost hurled overboard. But then, from Folkestone to London you travel in a magnificent Pullman car – I couldn’t believe that this was IIIrd cl.
I have a charming room, the ceiling is painted with butterflies, the Sablins are very sweet – and I think I’ll be able to stay here till the end. Konovalov, thinking I’d arrive by six, arranged for some kind of a dinner, I don’t know exactly what, he’ll have to call me again. I called Harris, talked to his wife Angelika Vasil., made arrangements for Wednesday, but she’ll call me again since I asked her earlier. Mme Tsetlin called, she promises me a meeting with an ‘influential’ person, today at 3 p.m. I could not reach Mollie, but I will try again this morning. I ate almost nothing on the way because of the tossing, so brought a lot of it with me and used it to reinforce my breakfast, which here is ‘continental’, i.e. the butler (a regular Jeeves) serves one tea and toast with marmalade in bed. Braykevich also called; I am having dinner at his place tomorrow. It was pleasant to sink down into a real bathtub. My darling, your speaking eyes seem to be standing before me. Don’t forget: 1) to contact Ilyusha about Berdyaev 2) to find out how to transfer money to Mother 3) to send to Priel. I will write to him either today or tomorrow. Jeeves is doing something to my hats, whose looks he wasn’t happy with.
In ‘Marianne’, there are five thoroughly flattering and thoroughly nonsensical lines abou
t ‘Méprise’, I’ll bring the newspaper, I don’t know how to send it, but if I find out, I will. I kiss you, my love. And now I will print in capital letters:
MY MITEN’KA, THE STEAMBOAT TOSSED A LOT, THE CAPTAIN AND I FELT SICK, I HOPE YOU’RE BEHAVING WELL, MY LITTLE SUNSHINE, LOVE YOU
DADDY
[ALS, 2 PP.]
[4 April 1939]
TO: Hotel Royal Versailles, 31, r. Le Marois, Paris XVI
5, Brechin Place
[London]
4–IV–39
10.30
My darling, my love,
I found the little photograph – it peeked out and smiled.
I was at Mme Tsetlin’s yesterday – all three of them are leaving for Paris and have ‘granted’ me their – charming – apartment. I will move there if I become a burden on the Sablins: so, just in case. M. S., in an awfully sweet manner, made all the arrangements and gave me the key. Here, at the Sablins’, it’s pleasant and comfortable in the highest degree, so I won’t move out unless compelled. With Mme Tsetlin, I went to Mrs Whale: an old intellectual Englishwoman, who once arranged lectures for my uncle, and wrote a book about the ‘soul of Russia’, and knows various writers, etc. I’ll go to her again on Sunday. At night, I met with the very nice and expansive Konovalov (he looks very much like Tolstoy’s Pierre!) in a café, and he gave me lots of information of all kinds – showed me samples of references, applications, programmes – I wrote down a lot – in general he was extraordinarily eager to help. There will be a vacancy not only at Leeds, but also in Sheffield. Besides myself, there are two more candidates, one of them Struve, but K. says that Struve has the wrong information, i.e. he’s counting on a larger salary than will in fact be offered, so it makes no sense for him to change London for Leeds. He believes that this will work out for me. At night, I set out the start of a Russian grammar for English speakers. Besides, paying heed to my persistent complaints, he promised to help me to get subsidies. I will have to apply to Baring and the Duchess of Atholl with a letter signed by influential individuals – professors and so on – whom he’ll round up – and to send the same letter to Bakhmeteff in America. In short, all of this is as unsure as writing on water, but water with the azure of reflected possibilities. Today I agreed on meetings with Gleb and the baroness, called Solomon because she asked me to do so (through Mme Tsetlin). Today I had lunch at the Polyakovs, and am meeting Mollie at Charing Cross and having dinner at Braykevich’s. Yesterday I called O. Bromberg, didn’t get him, left my number, but he did not call. I will try him again now. Jeeves tried to set out clean underpants for me and was surprised when he looked in the closet. I love you, my precious creature, write me, I kiss you.
Letters to Véra Page 38