Tolstoy and Tolstaya: A Portrait of a Life in Letters

INTRODUCTION TO LETTERS, PART II

The 1880s were marked by two major events — one personal, the other national — and their consequences: for Tolstoy and the family, it was his ‘spiritual crisis’ and the resulting evolution of his idealistic world view; for the nation, it was the assassination of Emperor Alexander II in 1881 by revolutionary terrorists and the conservative backlash (with moderates and extremists on both sides) that began dominating the political and official social landscape immediately thereafter.

The moral principles Lev Nikolaevich adhered to — through which he was hoping to come to terms with the philosophical problems that he had not been able to resolve analytically — came under additional stress when the family had to abandon its long-lasting country lifestyle and move to Moscow, primarily to provide a better formal education for the eldest children (1881).

Lev Nikolaevich had significant difficulties in adapting to these new conditions. It required a noticeable change in his personal habits; it brought new (fresh and vivid) but mostly negative impressions of nineteenth-century urban life, which by and by translated themselves into his need to express them in socially charged articles. On the other hand, it failed to inspire a single significant belletristic work and so prevented him from either returning to his innate talent for fiction or finding his lost moral equilibrium — both of these losses much to the chagrin of Sofia Andreevna. In the meantime, Lev Nikolaevich continued to spend his winters apart from the family at Yasnaya Polyana, offering the couple yet another opportunity to renew their communication through letters.

In 1883 Tolstoy met Vladimir Chertkov, in whom he saw a kindred soul and who would become his close friend for the rest of his life. At the same time, he and Sofia Andreevna were drifting more and more apart. Tolstoy could not forgive his wife for being unable and largely unwilling to follow him in what he perceived as his most serious and important moral and intellectual pursuit. For her part, Tolstaya, now exhausted with frequent pregnancies and never-ending wifely and motherly household duties, began experiencing nervous breakdowns and had neither the energy nor, indeed, the inclination to share her husband’s new ideas. She kept bemoaning his apparent unwillingness to fulfil a practical role as her attentive husband and the father of her children. Instead she found herself besieged by the complaints of a tormented genius and compelled to taking on additional duties of caring for his physical and spiritual well- being.

In 1883 Tolstoy, in accordance with his new principles, renounced the publication of his literary works for his personal profit and, along with a power-of-attorney, transferred to his wife the right to publish his works written before the end of 1881.

In 1884 Tolstoy, in collaboration with Chertkov, founded his own publishing house he named Posrednik [The Intermediary], to publish his new stories ‘for the people’. In 1885,Tolstaya visited St. Petersburg, where she unsuccessfully petitioned the Empress Marija Fëdorovna for permission to publish her husband’s banned works.

On the broader scale, Russian culture continued to flourish in a number of spheres. In music, the 1880s marked the flourishing of Peter Tchaikovsky and the rise of composers like Anton Arensky, Alexander Glazunov and Mikhail Ippolitov-Ivanov. Prominent painters coming to the fore in this period included Konstantin Korovin, Mikhail Nesterov and Valentin Serov. Among new novelists and poets on the literary scene were Vladimir Korolenko, Dmitry Merezhkovsky and Fyodor Sologub. Tolstoy, in the meantime, was transforming himself from one of the world’s greatest novelists into a moralist writer of religious and philosophical treatises.

Nº 57 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 55]
[28 August 1880. Yasnaya Polyana].

Dear Lëvochka, I am sending you Urusov’s ¹ letter, which you have been expecting; the letter is one I could have predicted, i.e. nothing new. Today everyone celebrated your birthday. Maybe it was because you weren’t here or on account of your ill health, but our souls were very sad. Yesterday I started moving about — that was a mistake, it appears, as it had a bad effect on my health. Somehow you with your head condition must have slept poorly, too, with the wind, rain and cold all night long. Yesterday I decided I had better stay in Tula a little longer, but to go visiting, and I was at the Bestuzhevs,² as well as at the Kislinskijs.³ I found them all in, and everybody was very nice; of course, wherever I went, I only stayed for a few minutes, then excused myself and left. At the Bestuzhevs, Vasilij Nikolaevich told me that a teacher of ancient languages had come to the Tula seminary the night before from the Philological Institute,⁴ and that all this [year’s] graduates decided to become teachers, that they would work for 150 silver roubles a month, and that it might be very easy to get one. If I had known ahead of time, I could have asked whether this teacher had a colleague and see if we could hire him by mail. At home I found everything safe and sound. Iljusha brought [home] two snipes, and today Serëzha, too, went hunting. And Lëlja went off to collect mushrooms with Sasha [i.e. Aleksandr Mikhajlovich Kuzminskij], who is extremely kind to him for some reason and constantly enquires: “Well, you’re the paper — what’s the news?” He invites him for coffee and hardly ever lets him out of his sight.

Today everyone’s having dinner here with us, including Vasilij Ivanovich [Alekseev] and his family.

Yesterday as [our daughter] Tanja and I were driving home, we had a very good chat. I used to hurry to share all my good thoughts and conversations with you, but now this need has passed. However, one shouldn’t neglect to share with the children what are undoubtedly good [ideas]. Some of it must sink in, otherwise there is confusion in their soul, as [I discovered] when I listened yesterday to Tanja.

Farewell, dear friend, tomorrow I’ll send [to see if] there is a letter from you. Yesterday I kept thinking about you while I was riding, about what I would give to know what was in your heart, what you were thinking about, and I’m very sorry that you share so little of your thoughts with me; it would give me needed moral support and would be very good. You’re probably thinking about me that I am persistent and stubborn, but I feel that a lot of the good you possess quietly slips into me, and this makes it easier for me to live in the world.

Now, it’s really farewell.

Sonja.

Nº 58 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/165]
28 August 1880. Moscow.

Yesterday I rode over to Mejer’s [employment agency] and put in a request for tutors and governesses. This morning two showed up: [The first was a] Mlle Velti — her French is very good and she [can teach] music; — [she charges] 600 roubles [a year], and is very well-mannered; she lived a year at [Dr. Grigorij Antonovich] Zakhar’in’s; but I don’t like [the attention she pays to] her appearance. It’s not that I don’t like her, but I wish she could be less self-absorbed. She [looks] about 25.

The second one is a Mlle Bossoney, the one that wrote to you: [she can teach] French and English — she is elderly, dry, and very proper. Her French is worse than the first woman’s, but she is very dignified, even too much so. She would very much like to have the position. She was asking 800 [roubles], but will go with 600.

If I were to choose just between these two, I would still take [Mlle] Velti. They promised teachers at the agency, but none have appeared yet. Now it is almost two o’clock, and I’m going around to the universities and gymnasiums.

I have taken a room at Sokolov’s, but the Perfil’evs have invited me to stay with them, and I shall move to their place. My health is good. Hugs and kisses to you and the children.

On the envelope: Tula. Her Ladyship Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 59 – LEV NIKOLOAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/168]
8 October 1880. Moscow.

Once more I’m writing in the morning, around people — [your brother] Petja, Golokhvastov,⁵ Obolenskij⁶ — but, alas, not around any governesses. Today there was one from the Governesses’ Society, but she won’t travel. She came by mistake, and I see there is absolutely no one who meets our needs — namely, a Frenchwoman with music. There simply isn’t even a good Frenchwoman without music. There’s just one, and without music — [she can teach] German, English and French — [her name is] Mlle Guillod.⁷ She came to see me yesterday, and Varin’ka⁸ was with me and we liked her. If today I don’t find anybody else, I’ll take her. I really like her, though she [can’t teach] music. Then at least we can have Aleksandr Grigor’evich⁹ for a second time each week. It’s the same story at all the agencies, [i.e.] Frenchwomen with music are very rare and currently non-existent. Yesterday I was with Varin’ka [Varvara Valer’janovna] at Botkin’s.¹⁰ I looked at the pictures, [then] took dinner at [Varin’ka’s] place. In the evening I was with Repin,¹¹ Perfil’ev¹² and Istomin.¹³ There I found Petja with his wife.¹⁴ I didn’t get a good sleep, and my nerves are frayed. Farewell, darling, hugs and kisses to the children, I’ll be home tomorrow.

L. T.

On the envelope: Tula. Her Ladyship Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 60 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/170]
11 June 1881. Krapivna.

Between 1 and 2 o’clock in the afternoon. Krapivna.¹⁵ The walk was worse than I had expected. My calluses chafe, but I slept, and I feel my health is better than I had anticipated. Here I bought hemp workboots, and it will be easier to walk in them. — [This experience has been] pleasant, useful and very instructive. Only God grant our whole family will see each other in good health, and that nothing bad will happen with either you or me, so that I shan’t have any reason to regret that I went. — You can’t imagine how new, important and useful to the soul it is (for one’s outlook on life) to see how God’s world lives — the world which is big and real, and not the one we have constructed for ourselves and which we never leave, even though we have travelled around the globe.

Dmitrij Fëdorovich¹⁶ is walking with me to Optina. He is a quiet and obliging chap. — We spent the night at Selivanovo at the home of a rich muzhik, a former elder and tenant farmer. I shall be writing from Odoev and again from Belev. I am taking very good care of myself and today I bought some dried figs for my stomach.

Farewell, darling. Hugs and kisses to you and everyone.

If you could have seen the baby girl about Misha’s¹⁷ age at the place we stopped last night, you would have fallen in love with her — she doesn’t say anything but understands everything, and smiles at everything, and nobody’s looking after her.

The most important new impression here is to see myself (in my own eyes and in the eyes of others) as just what I am, and not what I am in the context of my surroundings. — Today a muzhik in a wagon caught up to me [and called out]: “Grandpa! Where is God taking you?” — “To Optina.” — “Well, are you going to be living there?” And a conversation ensued.

Only [I hope] that you aren’t letting yourself get distracted by either the older or younger children, that there aren’t any unpleasant visitors, that you yourself are healthy, that nothing [bad] is happening, that… I shall do my best in everything, and you, too, and then everything will be splendid.

On the envelope: Yasenki, Yasnaya Polyana. Her Ladyship Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 61 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 56]
[12 June 1881. Yasnaya Polyana]

My dear Lëvochka, I don’t know where to begin this letter. There have been various things happening these past two days, and it seems to me it’s been such a long time ago that you left. In the first place my [baby] Misha has taken ill like never before in his life. He has extreme fever, keeps groaning, won’t eat, won’t play. Today he was much better, but for two nights now I have not slept because of him.

Yesterday Khomjakova ¹⁸ came for dinner, together with Urusov.¹⁹ Khomjakova was very nice and I am continuing to find her very friendly, but Urusov was first set upon by your brother Serëzha,²⁰ who got off the express train the same day at Kozlovka [Station], and then by [my sister] Tanja for inconsistencies in his Christianity. They played croquet (without me), chatted and left around ten [p.m.]. Serëzha talked about the reception for the Tsar,²¹ though nothing of significance. The Empress²² began the conversation by saying “What a terrible time!” Then the Tsar enquired as to who was serving where; he thanked and ordered thanks be accorded to the “comrades”, as he put it. Serëzha was to give the first speech, and carried it off very well, as he told me.

He is very pleased and interested that this was mentioned in all the papers. Today after dinner he is leaving in a carriage for Pirogovo and asked me to let [our daughter] Tanja accompany him, to which I agreed. There’s nobody there except for his household; I cannot leave my house, or else I would have gone [with them]. Serëzha himself will bring her back.

Il’ja isn’t doing anything; today he went by train to Tula; but to refuse him — that would only repeat the scene that happened in your presence, as the watch is ready and needs to be picked up. He’ll come back by train, too. [Our son] Serëzha went to Borolomka, where they let [some water from the pond] flow through the mill dam — for some fishing. The other day he came back from Tula and brought with him — who do you think? — Bogojavlenskij.²³

[Our son] Serëzha and I had words between us; I expressed my displeasure with him and said that you disapproved even of his going to see him [i.e. Bogojavlenskij] himself. Serëzha was submissive and said that he would be more careful in future. Bogojavlenskij was repulsive; he ranted on about the uselessness of good manners and quarrelled with Auntie Tanja.²⁴ I don’t do too much quarrelling these days, mostly keep silent. Tanja’s children are healthy. Right now I have asked that my [little] Misha be taken out for a walk. We are [all] going bathing, the berries are ripening; it’s very hot, and boring without you. I think it would be torture for you to go out into this heat carrying a bag, and I’m very much afraid for your head condition. I hope that you are sitting out this heatwave in the shade or sleeping, and that you won’t drink [too much when you are] sweating, or go bathing, which would be terribly harmful — you might suffer a stroke.

While you were away I received two letters addressed to you: one from Samarin,²⁵ full of repentance and even emotion; the other from Stasov,²⁶ regarding your manuscript. It’s complicated — you can read it yourself. Pity you’re not home at this time. Professor Solov’ëv²⁷ was going to come and see us; Samarin (a minor consideration) wanted to come after the Zemstvo [district council] meeting, then [the writer] Turgenev and Bestuzhev²⁸ on Sunday, who said that he would bring his brother. These would all have been interesting for me, but what to do? Maybe (or even probably) you’re glad [that you weren’t here].

I hope you are healthy, not too exhausted, and that you’ll arrive home earlier than you promised — ten days.

Bogojavlenskij brought a lithograph of Solov’ëv’s lecture;²⁹ it was most interesting to read; I’ve left it for you.

Farewell, dear friend. It’s seems I’ve written everything [I wanted to], but I don’t know whether I should write to you again or not, and whereto?

Hugs and kisses and, again and again, I ask you to watch and take good care of yourself.

Sonja.

Nº 62 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 58]
[3 July 1881. Evening. Moscow]

I wanted to wire you, dear Lëvochka, to ask your advice, otherwise I shall simply go mad with dithering. Today in [the neighbourhood of] Prechistenka, in Denezhnyj Lane, I came across a house belonging to Princess Volkonskaja,³⁰ which strikes me as being very comfortable and splendid both in its location and in its arrangement [of rooms]. But Dmitrij Alekseevich [D’jakov] says one thing, [my sister] Tanja another, [Leonid Dmitrievich] Obolenskij something else, besides my own doubts — and I don’t know what to do. This house is selling for 36 thousand [roubles], and is to let for 1,550 silver roubles [a year] unfurnished. It is impossible to find less expensive apartments, and everyone is [already] surprised [at this offer]. There are a lot of houses for sale, but I’m still hesitant about [making a decision like] this. All of them without exception don’t seem to fit the bill. Tomorrow morning [my brother] Petja and a contractor will inspect Volkonskaja’s house along with the previous house, Kalachëv’s. Apart from these I shall take a look at two other houses in the area of Novinskij [Boulevard], along with one furnished apartment for 1800 silver roubles [a year]. I want to get everything finished tomorrow and leave the city tomorrow night; I am tired and afraid for my pregnancy,³¹ but in any case my chances of finding something either bad or good would be the same now as a month from now.

Today we all had dinner together at the Slavjanskij Bazaar,³² and then all spent the evening at Petja’s. I didn’t go to the Perfil’evs’ — I was busy in the morning, and too tired in the evening. We shouldn’t have brought Lëlja along, one of his baby teeth [is coming out]; but I am just as glad not to be alone; we travel together and shall go home together, and we sleep in the same room.

I am writing just in case I stay any longer than tomorrow. If I get everything done, I shall leave tomorrow night and arrive before this letter [can reach you].

Tanja³³ and her little girls are healthy, but because of their teeth they need to stay another four days, which is upsetting to Tanja, but there’s nothing that can be done — their teeth have turned out very badly.

I hope that you are all healthy, that [our daughter] Tanja is looking after the household and not neglecting the young boys — after all, she, too, is Mummy Tanja. What are you, the older boys and Masha doing? No letter from you — [I realise] there couldn’t be any.

I’m still thinking of how to make a little better accommodations for all of you, but it’s hard to please everyone — some will still be disappointed; but large houses and apartments are not within our means.

Farewell, dear friend. Hugs and kisses to all of you.

Sonja.

Nº 63 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/174]
4 July 1881. Yasnaya Polyana.

Saturday noon.

Everything is going very well with us here: no unpleasant incidents, no quarrels, no tricks — the main thing is, everyone’s in good health. The little ones [Andrej and Mikhail] are precious and touching in that, as I say to [our daughter] Tanja, they are conveying to her and me what they [usually] give to you, at least in part — Andrjusha just now came up to me (it’s morning now and the children are having their breakfast) to tell me how he will eat his eggs; I asked him: What should I write to Mamà? He thought for a moment, then looked at me intently and broke out into a smile: This [i.e. my smile] is what I would like to ‘write’ to you. Iljusha sometimes goes to Yasenki, sometimes to Tula, but he puts in his hours of study. [Our son] Serëzha and Ivan Mikhajlovich³⁴ are looking through books in the annexe. Mlle Guillod keeps going for rides with Mania.³⁵ Tanja is conscientiously and cheerfully occupied in household tasks. Today she ran off to see Kostjushka.³⁶ And Iljusha is going to Tula to buy bandages for Kostjusha’s wife. The Kuzminskijs³⁷ are coming to dinner; our conversation is pleasant enough, but he seems to fear being a burden on me and is quick to leave, and last night he didn’t come at all. I’m lazy. —

You must have finished with your business dealings by now. I calculated that a selection could be [easily] made if you looked at 20 houses, and 20 houses could be looked at in 3 days. — Please do count on me. I’ll come and take a look and finish up what you haven’t got done. Hugs and kisses to [your sister] Tanja and the children, and to you.

On the envelope: Moscow. Arbat, Karinskij’s house. Obolenskij’s apartment. Her Ladyship Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 64 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/179]
19 July 1881. Farmstead on the Mocha.

Tomorrow it will be a week, dear friend, since I left,³⁸ and already five days since I last wrote to you, and I am feeling terribly weighed down by our separation, even though I am getting along very well here. When I receive your letters and know that you have received mine, then I am able to calm down. This year has been marvellous here in every respect. — The weather is hot, clear, and we haven’t had any dryness to date; the steppes are green, fresh, and the feather-grass is green everywhere, flourishing for the second time. The harvests are good, though not everywhere, but ours are very good. The house is clean and spacious, no flies at all — just like at Yasnaya. There are lots of horses to ride, and splendid koumiss. Vasilij Ivanovich,³⁹ and especially Lizaveta Aleksandrovna⁴⁰ take care of us so well, it’s [almost] shameful! Aleksej Alekseevich⁴¹ [Bibikov, manager of the Tolstoys’ Samara estate] lives half a verst downriver on the Mocha [a tributary of the Volga], in an earthen cottage. I went to see him yesterday. His cottage is papered with wallpaper: it’s clean and cheerful. His wife is a taciturn, timid woman. [Their] koumiss is superb. Mukhamedsha is even chubbier than he was before. Behind the curtain [I can hear] his wife and a squealing baby [also named] Mukhamedsha. Through laughter and embarrassment, he says: “I obliged the young’un.”

Horses, stallions, more than 10 head, are very good, beyond what I expected. I ought to bring them [home] in the autumn for sale and for myself. The horses have prospered remarkably, despite the lean years when they went hungry, and so much was lost. — There are horses, I believe, selling for no less than 300 [roubles].

[Our son] Serëzha was fine during our first days here, but on account of his stubbornness and negligence he went bathing more than once during the hottest time of the day, and now, just since yesterday, he has come down with the Samaran disease [i.e. dysentery] which you hate so much. Kostja⁴² had it too, as well as Bibikov, and everybody else after bathing. I am drinking koumiss with great delight, and feel my thoughts slowing down, and am becoming more drowsy, quiet and dim-witted. —

Prospects for income of more than 10,000 [roubles] seem likely, but I have been mistaken so many times that I’m afraid to believe it. Today Vasilij Ivanovich and I spent the whole day at Patrovka, at a Molokan [prayer] meeting, had dinner and [attended a session of] the district court, and [then] went back to the Molokan meeting. At Patrovka we found Prugavin⁴³ (he writes about the schism [in the Russian Orthodox Church]) — a very interesting, moderate fellow. It was a very interesting day all told. At the meeting there was a discussion about the Gospels. There are interesting people there, remarkable in their boldness. —

The work here is coming along — harvesting rye with a threshing machine right in front of the house. Everything’s proceeding quickly, fine. Bibikov’s workers and all his management tasks are being settled very nicely. Our first night here I wakened Serëzha by yelling “Sonja!” at the top of my lungs. It was a nightmare — something was choking [me]. Since then I have been sleeping well at night — I in the last room, Emily ⁴⁴ in the same room as before, while Serëzha is in our bedroom. Serëzha takes breakfast at 12 [noon] and supper after 9 [p.m.], along with Vasilij Ivanovich’s family. The only time I eat is at supper. — How are you personally? How are the children doing? All of you? Many times a day I reminisce [about all of you] and look out into the darkness, and don’t see anything. Hugs and kisses to everyone, [including] the boys,⁴⁵ such dears, and the Kuzminskijs.⁴⁶ It [must be] very hard and boring for you. God grant that [when] I come, I will devote myself to taking care of your business in Moscow; just tell me what to do. The next letter you send should be addressed not to Samara, but to Bogatoe. It’ll have [a better] chance [if sent] there. I still want to start working, and I have tried, but without success. There’s just one thing I want — to take care of my hæmhorroids, otherwise they adversely affect my mental state. Watch that you do a good job of loving me.

On the envelope: To Tula. Her Ladyship Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 65 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 59]
27 July 1881. 12 a.m. [Yasnaya Polyana]

Dear Lëvochka, you aren’t [exactly] spoiling me with letters. I thought you would be kinder in that respect. It’s been two weeks now since you and Serëzha left, and I’ve only received a single letter from our farmstead.⁴⁷ It wouldn’t bankrupt you if you sent a courier with a letter more often; and there was still mail pick-up during that time twice a week from Zemljanki.

Everything’s going along here little by little: we live from day to day; the weather is terrible: you go out [even just] for a half-hour, and again there’s wind and rain, so we still stay home, working, or studying, or reading. The other day Lëlja, Masha, [along with my nieces] Masha and Vera wrote compositions under my guidance, and everybody wrote quite well. Yesterday Il’ja (who left the day before yesterday on the night train to Zhitovo) spent the whole day hunting, and came through the bog, to everyone’s surprise, at Pirogovo — cold, hungry, dirty and tired. He was clothed and fed, and Serëzha⁴⁸ himself came with him [on the train] to Kozlovka.

I spent the whole day worrying and regretting my decision to let him go; last night they both arrived and we sat down for supper and talked until half-past two in the morning. Serëzha came to ask me for the sum of 1500 silver roubles for the harvest. I have 1000 roubles, but I couldn’t give them [to him], since on the night of 2 August I am travelling to Moscow, and even though it is not a large sum, I shall be able to begin the renovation of the [Volkonskaja] house [in Denezhnyj Lane], and choose a few things without paying [right away], but the main thing is to choose the wallpaper and have it installed. They are waiting for me on this. Serëzha was so persistent with his pleading that I gave [him] a little, i.e. 133 silver roubles. He gave me a promissory note for the 600 silver roubles which he owes me, and when he handed me the paper, his hand was trembling like an old man’s, and I felt so sorry for him. Il’ja killed only one snipe, and was so tired that he’s been just lazing around all day.

Today all of them — [my sister] “Auntie Tanja”, [our daughter] Tanja, all the Kuzminskij children, Iljusha, Lëlja, Masha and Uncle Serëzha headed off to Tula on the suburban train. Everybody had some business [there] — while for me, the mail was the major concern, but there was no letter. They took care of everything just fine, while I stayed [here] with the little boys and walked around a bit, and sewed little shirts for our present boys as well as the one to come.⁴⁹ Tomorrow morning I’m going with [our daughter] Tanja for a full day to the Mengdens.⁵⁰ I really don’t feel like it, as everything has become difficult for me, and my health has not been good these days; I have some kind of hæmorrhoidal condition unlike anything I have ever seen.

Some Cossack is staying with us, an eccentric, who has come from the Starogladovskoe village — Feodor, Epishka’s⁵¹ nephew, of the same age as you. He rode here on horseback from the Caucasus on a chestnut-coloured horse, wearing a red capote and a fur cap, with medals and orders, a grey-haired, dry and frightening chatterbox; a clown, a show-off — not a nice fellow at all. He says he is on his way to the Tsar to ask to serve as a convoy guard, “where one of our people has been slain”, as he puts it. “I want to serve a 3rd tsar, I’ve served two [already].” He went to see Aleksej Stepanovich [Orekhov], and the two of them had a lively conversation about various reminiscences and mutual acquaintances from the Caucasus. Yesterday we all went riding — the two Tanjas on [their] horses, and the Cossack in the red capote as their gallant escort, on his horse. It was a strange coup d’œil. [His] horse was meek and hand-reared, like a dog, and he gave all the children a ride on her by turns.

Today Tanja was asking Andrjusha: “What shall I bring you from Tula?” And he said: “Bring Papà back.” He really surprised everyone. Farewell, dear Lëvochka, I’m sad that there’s no news [from you].

Nº 66 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/182]
31 July 1881. Farmstead on the Mocha.

31 July.

On the 28th I received three letters⁵² from you, dear, dear friend. And I was carried away by that Yasnaya Polyana spirit which we don’t appreciate when we live in it. — One thing makes me sad, namely how difficult [life] is for you — very difficult. As I see it, you are tormented by three things: Lëlja’s exam,⁵³ Iljusha’s naughtiness and cold floors. Of these, I consider cold floors the most serious. This letter will probably not reach you [at Yasnaya Polyana], and you’ll be going through hell in Moscow⁵⁴ — to fix all this: have the floors redone, cover them with lime, spread a felt cloth over them — or even find another place to live — that’s how I see it. Of course, it’s late now, and you’ve taken upon yourself all these torments, but living here far away from you, I’ve come to have a different view of our life in Moscow. It sounds funny to say this — I’ve begun to accept it. In particular, I understood how difficult it is for you to work alone. When I return, I shall work along with you, and not merely to relieve the burden on you, but [it’s something I’ll do] with pleasure. I feel very sorry for you, and I’m weighed down without you. This is the third week already. And probably we’ll come shortly after this letter. The second matter in importance is Iljusha’s naughtiness. It’s not a serious calamity; but, again, your efforts to watch over him and guide him [are very much needed]. The third problem is poor Lëlja; I would suggest we forget about his entering school this year. This year there is so much to think of, and he can study up at home and get into Grade 4. He’s the kind of boy that learns quickly and forgets quickly.

I was really pleased with Strakhov’s letter.⁵⁵ Our letters crossed in the mail. I wrote him before I left. — What you tell me about Sasha [Aleksandr Mikhajlovich] Kuzminskij made me very, very happy. There’s no room for vainglory here. Only joy and concern over there being no falsehood or mistake in my interpretation. Of course you can let Dmitrij Fëdorovich⁵⁶ copy [my treatise The Gospel in brief, a.k.a. A short exposition of the Gospel]. I didn’t let the Molokans copy it here for fear that it might be distorted by semi-literate people. But copying is the truest and most legitimate form of distribution. They say that Woe from wit⁵⁷ went through tens of thousands of copyings. If it is needed, it will find a way.

Now about us. [Our son] Serëzha is quite healthy and has become cheerful, he shoots ducks and rides horseback and goes for walks. The melons aren’t ripe yet. — This is how we live: we rise at 7, take tea all together, i.e. me, Serëzha, Vasilij Ivanovich,⁵⁸ Kostja [Ignatovich], Mitja, Liza⁵⁹ and Aleksej Alekseevich [Bibikov], for the most part. Elizaveta Aleksandrovna keeps busy with dinner, the laundry, and [making] butter, as well as with Masha, and rarely joins us at the table. I go walking for three versts, drinking koumiss, and I try writing (true, it doesn’t work out), then I go, either walking or riding, to [check on] the herd at that farmstead, [or] the crops, [or] to Ivan Dmitrievich’s⁶⁰ farmstead, or somewhere else. It’s not very pleasant walking or riding in the village. And I am [often] late for dinner — at 12 o’clock, and often don’t eat anything until evening. In the evening I go for another horseback ride either alone or with Serëzha or Kostja, and again we take supper all together around 9. Sometimes we have tea in the middle of the day or after supper. Everybody likes it except me. Serëzha doesn’t drink koumiss at all. I drink koumiss with pleasure, and a lot of it (as many as 12 cups), but today I haven’t had a drop all morning. It makes me very excited and irritated. But as to what concerns you — the benefits for my health — I can say that the koumiss is and has been very beneficial, it invigorates me physically. The question is: is this necessary or not. Our repas are not at all varied — they are filling, but not stylish. Mutton (fried or boiled), cutlets, even with peas, splendid carp, cottage cheese, kasha, cottage cheese fritters.

I did sleep well at first, but now the nights are worse, probably on account of too much koumiss. Since Monday they’ve had as many as 300 reapers at work. [There have been] concerns over flour, bread and kasha [for all the workers]. Each [worker] is asking 12 roubles. Tomorrow is the Festival of the Saviour ⁶¹ and today they’ve stopped working. They have [already] harvested 2/3, and my hopes for a [good] income are not disappointing. I’m also happy about the horses. At first I wanted to bring 15 stallions to Tula to sell. But I’ve had second thoughts. I was offered 120 roubles each for the two weakest stallions. So I can sell them here for 200 or 150 roubles each. I’ve also earmarked 16 of the poor and superfluous mares for sale and I can sell them for 50 or [maybe] 40 roubles. — Only I would like to bring four or so stallions [home] with me for myself or for show. Yesterday I was admiring a pair of suckling colts, dun-coloured — like two peas in pod. So, if we’re still alive, you will have a pair your favourite colour. — I don’t know about you, but the further I am away from you, the more I think about you and miss you. Yesterday an old hermit was here. He lives in the woods along the Buzuluk road. He himself is hardly interesting or pleasant. But he is interesting in that he was one of six muzhiks who 40 years ago settled in Buzuluk, on the hillside, and established that huge monastery⁶² which we saw. I jotted down his story. You haven’t sent me Urusov’s⁶³ letters, and I’ve been somewhat disappointed not to have them. Please give him my best wishes. I haven’t received the book of Marcus Aurelius⁶⁴ either, despite my writing a request to the postmaster that he send it to me without delay. And I haven’t received any notice. Perhaps it went through the district post office?

I am sending you a telegram along with this letter.

Hugs and kisses to big Tanja and little Tanja. Did she have a good time at the Mengdens? If only she could see how Liza [Malikova] helps her mother [here], smooths and churns the butter and crawls over the rooftops after baby chicks.

I’m not saying anything about Il’ja, as I am certain he was ashamed and hurt, and that he is working and looks upon hunting as a holiday and a treat, and not as a routine activity. Let Lëlja keep on working. And, may Ivan Mikhajlovich [Ivakin] forgive me, he knows his arithmetic. He needs to be probed from all sides. And he is [too] dull-witted to guess the meaning of a question and answer it when it is presented to him in a different form. — Hugs and kisses to your Masha and [Masha] Kuzminskaja, as well as Verochka [Kuzminskaja], and Andrjusha for refreshing himself, and chubby little Misha, and to Misha Kuzminskij. How many there are! How could they not be a challenge to care for?

A smallpox specialist came here and gave Masha [Alekseeva] a smallpox injection. As soon as [her brother] Kolja saw him cut Masha[’s skin] with a scalpel, he flung a hook and line at the doctor and angrily cried out in all seriousness that he would put him in the stable.

Farewell, my dove. It won’t be long now.

On the envelope: Tula. Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 67 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 61]
26 August [1881. Moscow]

Dear Lëvochka, I didn’t manage to write this morning and am writing at 6 o’clock in the evening. I arrived quite safely, as I slept the whole way to Moscow and the conductor woke me up as we were approaching [the city]. Sleeping on the opposite bench in my compartment was a stranger who boarded the train in Tula — a very respectable lady, who was with me the whole way to Moscow. Ivan [Tolstaya’s coachman] and I went to [my brother] Petja’s [Pëtr Andreevich Behrs] and found everybody well, but they didn’t come to the play, as Jenny ⁶⁵ was ill; Natusja⁶⁶ was also in bed today with fever and nausea.

After I washed up and took some tea, I went to my [new] place. It’s very nice there, everything at the ready, only the blue bedroom wallpaper was much too bright. Either I made a mistake, or they sent me the wrong [colour] — I don’t know.

The little garden has not been well kept up, but I can live with it; it is 40 sazhens [about 85 metres] long. There’s no paint odour; it’s clean and bright. Yesterday I took a drive with Ol’ga⁶⁷ for a little shopping, and spent the evening with Polin’ka,⁶⁸ who offered some suggestions, but very few. The Istomins⁶⁹ were there, along with Petja and his wife. By evening I was exhausted and left after 11 o’clock. My health was excellent all day long. Both the Perfil’evs are very kind and dear.

This morning I headed out with Petja; earlier I had congratulated him and [his daughter] Natasha [a.k.a. Natusja] on [her] birthday and name-day;⁷⁰ I gave him a small rug, and toys to Natusja, and then drove him all over Moscow. This morning I had pain in both my stomach and my lower back. The morning workers gave me no rest, but now, despite driving about all day long, I feel quite myself again. Today we bought a whole lot of furniture — for practically the entire house, except for the drawing room. But I found a store where I shall almost certainly buy drawing-room [furniture]; the store owner is a very reliable elderly gentleman. A few things I returned, and there were a few things that were cheaper [elsewhere], but I can’t say that I was unhappy with my purchases.

Tomorrow I’ll look into dishes, lamps, and so forth. But there’s still terribly much to be done: the upholsterers still haven’t started on their work, there’s a lot still to buy, and nothing has been settled. I can’t come earlier than Sunday evening, that’s clear to me. On Sunday morning I have to go with Petja to Sukhareva Square, where there is a market only on Sundays, and there’s still a lot of little things to buy, which can’t be bought without me — things we’re in great need of. Write to me and send me another wire on Saturday.

If I can’t stand the boredom and loneliness and worry over you, I shall return, as I said, at 4 o’clock in the morning on Saturday; in any case, send horses to Kozlovka. Once I finish this letter, I’ll go over to Denezhnyj Lane to receive the furniture and pay for everything on the spot. I have one comfort: that I am buying everything for my family, so they may all be fine and happy.

Hugs and kisses to you all. How’s Sasha ⁷¹ doing? How are you, [our daughter] Masha and everyone? I am enduring my labours splendidly. Farewell, my dears.

Sonja.

Nº 68 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/186]
26 August 1881. Yasnaya Polyana.

Right now it’s Wednesday evening. I am writing to you in the drawing room, and all around me in the room our children and the Kuzminskijs’ [Marija, Vera and Mikhail] are singing couplets. Everyone’s healthy and cheerful. All Sasha [Kuzminskij] had was a cough. I let Masha leave her room today. There’s nothing wrong with her. The little ones are altogether well and precious, especially Misha. Just as soon as you’re not around, he clings to me, [crying]: “Papà!”. He climbs into my arms and then makes me run around with him.

This morning Mlle Guillod took everyone to Sudakovo to buy honey. They wanted to take Andrjusha, too, and though I felt sorry to disappoint Nanny, I didn’t permit it, fearing that the morning air would be too fresh [for him]; besides, it was quite a distance.

This morning I heard a rumour through some woman that Vasilij Ivanovich,⁷² the priest, died. I went to the church, but the rumour was not confirmed. Mar’ja Dmitrievna [his wife] was with him yesterday. He is at his son-in-law’s in Obidimo on the Kaluga road, and she hasn’t heard any news. If the rumour is not confirmed, I’ll go see him tomorrow. I asked [your sister] Tanja to look after the house while I’m gone. Iljusha returned yesterday. He killed six birds. People are complaining that there is no wild game. Today Serëzha rode over to Malakhovo and he, too, killed only one duck. Today Iljusha headed out with the Bibikovs⁷³ to hunt wolves, but they didn’t find any.

All yesterday morning I was writing Petja’s story,⁷⁴ and still can’t finish it. —

I felt very sad the night of your departure, but now I’m getting over it. —

Please don’t imagine that it is absolutely necessary for you to finish everything. Do what you can get done by Saturday without haste — the rest I’ll finish off [when I come]. Today’s the coronation;⁷⁵ didn’t that interfere with your activities? These past couple of days I haven’t been quite myself — my liver hurts, but I am not downhearted, as I know that it will soon pass. — I feel very sorry for the priest and his family, and I would like to see him before his death. Tomorrow I’ll go [there] around noon and if there is no train coming back early, I’ll take the horses. — Tomorrow I’ll send a wire. Hugs and kisses to you, darling. ’Til Saturday — morning. —

On the envelope: Moscow. Kamennyj Bridge, Sofia Embankment. [Fragment torn off.] […] Academy. Supervisor’s apartment. [Torn off.] Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 69 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/188]
3 February 1882. Yasnaya Polyana.

I am writing to you, my darling, from Yasnaya [Polyana], from Aleksej Stepanovich [Orekhov]’s room, where I feel very comfortable. I have arrived in Tula. [Leonid Dmitrievich] Urusov met me, gave me food and drink, — we had a chat, he did most of the talking, — and I went to bed. I was going to take the morning train at 8:30, but didn’t realise it would go only as far as Uzlovaja. So I got up at 7 and went. At 11 o’clock I reached Uzlovaja, tired and sluggish; I looked — it was snowing on the fields, [I would have] to wait five hours at the station, but a train heading back to Tula was leaving right away. I wired Raevskij ⁷⁶ and set out for Yasnaya [Polyana]. I spent the night in Aleksej Stepanovich [Orekhov]’s [room]. He’s very nice, but because of his snoring I made him move into the servants’ quarters, and that’s not good. I slept on the stove⁷⁷ with Pëtr Shentjakov.⁷⁸ Mar’ja Afanas’evna⁷⁹ and Agaf’ja Mikhajlovna⁸⁰ drank tea and chatted [with me] yesterday, and today I went riding, had my fill of coffee and began to write, but couldn’t get much done — my head was suffering from migraines, and I feel weak. I am not overexerting myself and am reading old Revues⁸¹ and thinking — enjoying the silence; avoiding solicitors. — I really feel like writing something I had in mind.⁸²

In the house [at Yasnaya Polyana] they are stoking [the stove] in Auntie’s [old] room.⁸³ I shall move [there] only if it is quite warm and the air is fresh. I shall stay here as God dictates to my heart and as you command. Communication is fast these days. [Send] telegrams to Kozlovka and letters to Tula.

How are your lungs and your health in general, and how are the children — both the older and the younger ones? If it would give you some respite, and if Iljusha would really like it, send him here for a few days. I just want to make things right for you. Please tell me the whole truth. Don’t worry about alarming me. — If you would feel better if I were with you, if you need to talk with me — just wire me, and in twelve hours I can be in Moscow. —

Farewell, darling, hugs to you and the children.

[Our daughter] Tanja worries me the most, when I think about [the children]. Tanja, don’t be alarmed; be like Varen’ka ⁸⁴ or like almond oil. —

After all, all stupidities and distractions, whether real or not, will pass without leaving the slightest trace, but making someone miserable — that will not pass.

Sjutaev’s⁸⁵ portrait, of course, has been [temporarily] abandoned, but it could be finished in time for Maslenitsa.⁸⁶

On the envelope: Moscow Prechistenka, Denezhnyj Lane, Volkonskaja house. Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 70 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 63]
[4 February 1882. Thursday. Moscow.]

Today, dear Lëvochka, I received your letter,⁸⁷ which was calm and humble, though apparently happy, judging by your frame of mind. No, I am not summoning you to Moscow, stay [at Yasnaya Polyana] as long as you like. Let me be the one to burn out, why both of us? You are more needed than I am by all and sundry. If I fall ill again, I’ll send a wire, in that case there’s nothing to be done. Enjoy the silence, write and don’t get alarmed; really, it’s all the same whether you are here or absent, only with fewer visitors. Even in Moscow I don’t see you all that often — our lives have taken different directions. What kind of life do we have anyway? — it’s some kind of chaos, labour, bustle, lack of thought, time and health and everything that people live by.⁸⁸

Today the boys, Il’ja and Lëlja, were at the opera, along with Kolja Obolenskij,⁸⁹ Ivan Mikhajlovich⁹⁰ and Serëzha. Lëlja shed a few tears, they said, when in Faust one man killed another in a duel. In the evening they were at the circus with the Këllers,⁹¹ the Ljarskijs,⁹² the Obolenskijs⁹³ and the Olsuf’evs.⁹⁴ They took up five loges. Tomorrow morning I shall take the girls and Andrjusha to the circus, and in the evening to a party at the Obolenskijs. On Saturday [we’re going] to the Ljarskijs’ party. The Olsuf’evs have cancelled their party, as their Grisha is ill and Anna⁹⁵ has swollen cheeks.

It’s very boring going to the Ljarskijs, in fact, it’s boring everywhere. Today I kept working on Masha’s dress for tomorrow. I’m very tired, and Fet⁹⁶ chattered away the whole evening, while I kept on sewing and sewing. This morning I went out shopping for the parties; the roads and weather are terrible; the ride was very bumpy and I even began to feel sick. Uncle Kostja is still with us, and today he helped together with Fet, and it wasn’t so lonely. Farewell, dear Lëvochka, stay healthy. Where are you? That is: [where is] the person you used to be in your feelings towards me? You haven’t been that kind of person for a long time.

Farewell. It’s already two in the morning, and I still have a lot to do.

Sonja.

Nº 71 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTAY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/189]
4 February 1882. Yasnaya Polyana.

3 p.m., Thursday

I just received your letter,⁹⁷ dear friend, and am so happy that you have been keeping well to date. Don’t worry about me. I’m doing quite well in Aleksej’s⁹⁸ room, and I probably shan’t move into the [main] house. I dropped in there today — [the house] can hardly be made warm enough without feeling the fumes. I’m afraid of that myself. I didn’t feel well, rather weak, in fact — my spine hurts a little, as well as my head. And on account of that I didn’t go see the Raevskijs⁹⁹ — I simply didn’t have the energy. Yesterday my head was still hurting. Today, despite a terrible snowstorm in warmish weather, my head actually feels better, and I just feel lazy. I’m having a bad time working. Still, my nerves are relaxing and I’m getting stronger. I told Aleksej I couldn’t see any muzhiks, and nobody showed up except some beggars, whom I didn’t see.

Yesterday I slept all by myself, and very well. Last night Agaf’ja Mikhajlovna’s muttering was quite soporific.

I think there’s no place I could feel better or calmer. You with your [focus] on the household and all your cares for the family, are unable to sense the difference I feel between the city and the country. In any event there is no need to speak or write about it in a letter; I’m writing about this now, and you’ll read it more clearly if I manage to get it written down.¹⁰⁰

The chief trouble with the city for me and for all thinking people (which I am not going to write about) is that one is constantly called upon to argue and refute false opinions, or agree with them without questioning, which is even worse. But arguing and refuting trifles and lies is the most pointless activity, and it has no end, since the number of possible lies has no limit. And you get involved in it and start to imagine that it is a useful activity, while it is actually the most useless activity. — If you don’t argue, you end up clarifying something for yourself in a way that excludes the possibility of argument. And this is all done in silence and solitude. — I know that interaction with like-minded thinkers is necessary, and my three months in Moscow were very necessary — for one thing, they gave me a great deal, not to mention Orlov,¹⁰¹ Nikolaj Fëdorovich,¹⁰² [Vasilij Kirillovich] Sjutaev, — and getting to know people better, society, too, which I used to judge coldly from afar, gave me a whole lot. And I am [gradually] sorting out all this material. — The census¹⁰³ and Sjutaev clarified quite a lot of things for me.

So don’t worry about me. Anything may happen and in any place, but I am here in the best and safest conditions. God grant everything is well with you. Hugs and kisses to the children. Everything has settled down, but I’m afraid that Maslenitsa will take its toll, and [the children] will be bothering you [more and more]. [Our daughter] Tanja has probably thought up some sort of pleasurable activity for herself, and probably more than one. And if not, that can only be better both for her and for us. Why does she hold out her hand to young men with some kind of beastly expression and without even turning to face them? —

Tanja, you must understand that I am writing this because I see you as though you were right before mine eyes, and it is only people that I love very much that I see this way.

Farewell, darling, there’s nothing [more] to write. Talking — [well,] I could stay talking until Andrjusha and Misha come running up and interrupting, but there’s nothing to write. Nanny is boiling me some chicken soup in a pot, she brings it [to me] herself and [then] stands stock still, the way people do at mass. Yesterday it was kasha and corned beef. In Tula I bought myself some white wine and buns. Today they brought some fresh ones. The eggs are fresh, [too]. I sleep on a wooden sofa with a mattress, there are no bedbugs. Today Mitrofan¹⁰⁴ sold [the horse] Balabënok for 65 roubles. For Gnedoj [they are offering] 110 roubles. If the weather is nice and I get a little work done, I’ll take a trip to Tula. [Leonid Dmitrievich] Urusov isn’t even aware that I’m at Yasnaya. If there are any interesting letters, let me know.

Farewell, precious, write every day, and I shall, too.

On the envelope: Moscow. Prechistenka. Denezhnyj Lane. Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 72 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 64]
6 [February 1882]. Friday night. [Moscow]

We just got back from the Obolenskijs, dear Lëvochka, weary, and it seems the children had a good time. [Our daughter] Tanja, too, did some dancing, and Tanja Olsuf’eva¹⁰⁵ was there, along with the two Ljarskis, and the Këllers — about 15 couples, I think. Even the elderly [Vasilij Aleksandrovich] Olsuf’ev came and kept repeating: “I’m having such a good time!” It’s now half-past one, thank God everybody’s now in bed; we’re all healthy and not too alarmed. I have a hurt in the pit of my stomach, and I am afraid of my hurts. We were at the circus this afternoon: a splendid circus, and I had fun watching Andrjusha, even though I know that such amusements are harmful for children. But he was expressing himself out loud, laughing, and even clapping for a boy and a pony.

I had to interrupt my letter: I’ve been feeding [Aleksej],¹⁰⁶ getting undressed, finishing up all my tasks and now it’s almost three o’clock in the morning — this is when I go to bed every day.

I just re-read your letter which I received today. Do get better, stay at Yasnaya as long as you want, do some writing and enjoy yourself. If our lives have diverged, then each of us must work things out as best we can, which I try to do for us — i.e. myself and the children. It is still very challenging and unfamiliar to me, but people get accustomed to everything. Why city life should spawn arguments — that I don’t understand; why on earth would anyone want to preach and proselytise? It is merely inexperience and stupidity to do things like that, and this should be left to the naïve and inexperienced Sjutaev.

Masha¹⁰⁷ was here today, [and] Uncle Kostja’s utterly moved in with us. What a bitter mockery of fate — Kosten’ka in place of you! I am still carrying a cross for my move to Moscow. But you won’t catch me out on this in future — I shall not move to Moscow again — that is, if I’m still alive.

The clock just struck three. Farewell. When I write, I’m always so tired that my letters come out spiteful. I myself have become spiteful, probably from some bilious disease. Don’t come to see me for the time being; you do much better without me. My little one [Aleksej] is still in poor health. But that’s not interesting for you. These little children are exclusively mine, and I shouldn’t — and shan’t — have any more. Superfluous sufferings and for what — our lives have gone their separate ways, and let’s keep them completely separate.

How I want to hurt your feelings, but [you would understand] if only you knew how I weep every day when, after a day of torment for the life of the flesh, as you call it, at night-time I’m all alone with my thoughts and longings. My one joy is when Andrjusha says to me, as he did today: “Mamà, who loves you?” — I tell him: “Nobody, Andrjusha, nobody loves me, Papà has gone.” And he says: “I love you, Mamà!” And how did that get into his head? I was undressing him quietly upstairs, and he stared at me intently; probably I looked unhappy.

I just wanted to put down facts: I was there, I did that … simply without emotion, and once again I’ve distressed you and felt sorry for myself. Don’t pay any attention. Tomorrow I’ll give Tanja your instructions.¹⁰⁸ What a terrible dustup they had with [our son] Serëzha today! He yelled, and I even got frightened.

Sonja.

Nº 73 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/190]
6 February 1882. Yasnaya Polyana.

Saturday, 11 a.m., before coffee.

Yesterday I felt the best ever — my spine ceased hurting, and no sooner had I got down to work than [Leonid Dmitrievich] Urusov came by. And I had just written him a letter¹⁰⁹ with the delicate hint that he not come. He had met Filip ¹¹⁰ at the gate and came in, and I was extremely upset.

I did do some work in the morning, but everything turned out wrong, and in the evening I was terribly exhausted from conversation. — These days, there is nothing more terrible for me than conversation. He isn’t to blame and he’s very nice, but I’ve already had enough conversation to last me a lifetime — I don’t want [any more].

He spent the night in the house, in Auntie’s room, and Nanny stayed in the servant girls’ room, and while neither of them died from gas poisoning, it is very warm there, and today I’m moving there, at least for a couple of days. If I live, I’ll head out on Monday or Tuesday — depending on how my work is going and also on [what] news [I get] from you. —

The pancakes the other day were superb. Arina¹¹¹ cooked them. But I don’t have an appetite. I’ve been feeling the whole time out of sorts. It’s better now. —

Yesterday Urusov threw me off, and I didn’t write you a letter. In place of that I am sending you a wire.¹¹² And I haven’t received any letter from you except the first. Now two will probably come. Farewell, darling. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. And I still love you the same whether we’re together or apart. — How are you celebrating Maslenitsa [Shrove Tuesday]? Do the children help you?

On the envelope: Moscow. Denezhnyj Lane. Volkonskaja House. Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 74 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 67]
[7 February 1882. Moscow]

For the first time in my life, dear Lëvochka, today I was not happy that you are coming back so soon. You write that you’ll be leaving on Monday or Tuesday: that means maybe you’ll arrive tomorrow and once again start to suffer and be bored; you’ll be a living but silent reproach to my life in Moscow. Lord, how much pain that has given me and how it has tormented my soul!

This letter may not reach you; if it does, don’t get the idea that I am greatly desiring your return; on the contrary, if you are healthy and busy and, especially, if you’re feeling well, why come back? It’s undoubtedly true that I don’t need you for any of life’s tasks. I am managing to keep everything in order and balance for now: the children are obedient and trusting, my health is better, and everything in the house is going along as it should be. As for my spiritual life, it’s buried so deep it’ll take you a long time to dig down to it.

And let it stay that way for now; it’s frightening for me to dig it up and bring it to the light of day, and then what shall I do? This inner spiritual side of life is so incompatible with my external life.

This morning we were at the Manège ¹¹³ with all the children, [as well as] Mashen’ka and Hélène.¹¹⁴ But there was a huge crowd, we saw some sort of unappealing mechanical puppet theatre and weren’t able to get to anything else. We [managed to] take Misha and Andrjusha for rides on the circular swings, [but] were terribly bothered by the crowd and it didn’t work out well. [Dmitrij Alekseevich] D’jakov and Mashen’ka and Uncle Kostja¹¹⁵ had dinner at our place. D’jakov and Mashen’ka took Tanja to a gipsy concert, and in the evening Lizaveta Petrovna Obolenskaja came to see us with Lili,¹¹⁶ along with two of the Olsuf’ev children and our own Liza Obolenskaja¹¹⁷ with her children. They played petits jeux, ate sweets and had a very good time.

All our children enjoyed themselves so much on Maslenitsa that they are now even getting down to their studies with pleasure. We have very few guests and it’s terribly quiet here without you. And you don’t know how to shield yourself from the crowds that press in on you; they’ve even imposed on you at Yasnaya.

Farewell, dear friend; if you come back, I shall despotically keep any conversation-loving wiseacres away from you. Then you will see how good and peaceful your life here can be.

Today I am going to bed early, I hope it will make me feel better and give me some rest. Pity you are not in complete health, weak and with no appetite. How could the country air not give you an appetite? Have you been out hunting?

Farewell. If you don’t come, do please write.

Sonja.

Sunday, 7 February [1882].¹¹⁸

Nº 75 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/195]
2 March 1882. Yasnaya Polyana.

Iljusha will tell you about me. I tried to write [earlier] today, but didn’t get very far. It’s all because of some feeling of tiredness, although today I feel more lively. — I haven’t received any letters from you yet and I am concerned about you. Today I hardly went out at all — the weather is poor. I’m playing patience, reading and thinking. — I’d very much like to finish that article I began, but even if I don’t get it written this week, I shan’t be upset. In any case it would do me a lot of good to get away from this confrontational city life and concentrate on my inner self — to read others’ thoughts about religion, listen to Agaf’ja Mikhajlovna’s chatter and think not about people, but about God.

Now Agaf’ja Mikhajlovna has been entertaining me with stories about you, about what kind of man I would have been if I had married Arsen’eva.¹¹⁹ [And Agaf’ja says to me:] “And now [you’ve] gone off, abandoned her there with her children, — [you tell your wife:] ‘Manage as best you can’, but then you just sit there, stroking your beard.” —

That was good. Her stories about dogs and cats are funny, but as soon as she starts talking about people, they turn sad. Someone’s either begging, epileptic, consumptive, crippled, beating his wife or abandoning his children. And everywhere there’s suffering and evil, and people have come to accept that that’s the way it ought to be. — If I were writing in the morning, my letter would be more cheerful, but at the moment I feel depressed again. —

Right now it’s past 11, and I’m on way to take Iljusha to Kozlovka [Station]. —

Farewell, darling, hugs and kisses to you and the children.

The greenhouses are now ready for planting; send some seeds.

If nothing [unexpected] happens, I’ll be there on Sunday.

On the fourth page: Moscow. Denezhnyj Lane. Volkonskaja House. Her Ladyship Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 76 – Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya
[PSS 83/196]
3 March 1882. Yasnaya Polyana.

3rd [March], 10 p.m.

How painful it is for me, my precious darling, that I am upsetting you with my letters. — [The reason is:] I had a bout of colic: my mouth feels bitter, my liver aches and I feel all gloomy and depressed. — There’s no better place for me to be than here, completely alone in wordless silence. — Today I can’t say that my sleep was bad, but it wasn’t enough and I didn’t even sit down to work, just reading. —

I haven’t received any letters from you yet, apart from the nonsensical letter from Aleksandr¹²⁰ and the less than sincere letter from Aleksandra¹²¹ — on which you jotted a few words of your own. This letter of Aleksandra’s upset me — irritated me — and I wrote a very harsh reply, which I took to Yasenki on horseback myself, where I bought envelopes. But on the way home I remembered that you would not have approved of this letter and I myself began to have regrets, and so I sent [someone] to bring the letter back, hence it wasn’t sent.¹²² —

This morning was sunny and warm, and you could hear the larks warbling all over the place, and the ride was pleasant. And now it’s windy, warm and dark, but I shall be going to Kozlovka [Station] by sleigh; I’ll post this letter and enquire [as to whether there are any letters] from you. Nanny¹²³ went to Tula, carrying money from Avdot’ja Vasil’evna;¹²⁴ she was at the post office, but didn’t bring any letter back. A letter from you will bring a great deal of cheer to my life. —

Kostjushka¹²⁵ was here — his wife is very ill — still the same [illness], in her breast. They say she got through it because of your medicine, but then her child died, and the same thing happened again, [this time] in both her breasts. She’s asking for that bandage or ointment which you gave her [before]. Send it if you can.

People are coming by asking [for money], but I refuse, — [I have] no money; albeit [refusing] is somewhat easier this year [than last], and I’ve thought a lot about this, and I don’t feel so bad about refusing.

Did Iljusha arrive safely? Is everything all right with you? Your health? And are the children fine? That’s the main thing.

Farewell, darling. Don’t think I’m not sad being apart from you; I am sad, but I feel that I am resting, and despite my ill health I am gaining strength, and thinking things through a lot better, more clearly and simply. Perhaps it’s simply the dreams and fancies of a decaying man, but thoughts of doing some creative writing keep coming to mind.

That kind of work would really rest me.

Thinking about it is just like thinking about going bathing in the summertime.

But please don’t tell this even to the children. — With you, I am [simply] thinking aloud.

Just now I received the letter¹²⁶ you sent to Kozlovka, and it has brought me a great deal of cheer.

On the envelope: Moscow. Denezhnyj Lane, Volkonskij house. Her Ladyship Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 77– SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 70]
3 March 1882. Wednesday evening. [Moscow.]

Today did not go so peacefully and successfully for me as those days [of the past]. Perhaps it seems to me that way because Agaf’ja Mikhajlovna made me feel sorry for myself,¹²⁷ and it started to even feel funny to me that at the same time as I was reading the letter you sent with Iljusha, your brother Serëzha was telling Vasilij Ivanovich,¹²⁸ who had arrived [earlier this] morning, that it was all very well for Lev Nikolaevich, spoiled as he was by Fate and his wife, to complain — he has somebody to complain to, somebody who will pity him. [And Serëzha continued:] “And if I say ‘I’ve become weak’, my wife says: ‘It’s already high time you died.’ Or I’ll say: ‘I’m not well’, and she says: ‘May you come down with convulsions!’”

But here is my day: the first thing, the most sad and depressing when I awoke, was your letter. It keeps getting worse and worse. I start thinking that if a happy person suddenly could see only the terrible things, and closed his eyes to the good, then that is what should come from ill health. You would just need to have treatment. I say this without any ulterior motive; it seems quite clear to me; I feel terribly sorry for you, and if you calmly considered my words and your situation — you would possibly find a solution.

You had this melancholy condition already — a long time ago. You used to say: “From lack of faith”, you wanted to hang yourself.¹²⁹ And now? After all, you do live by faith, why then are you unhappy? And weren’t you aware before that there are starving, sick, miserable and evil people out there? Take a closer look: there are cheerful, healthy, happy and kind people, too. If only God could help you — what can I do?

Anyway, later Il’ja came to see me this morning, his lips and voice trembling. Malysh¹³⁰ has gone missing. We’ve done all we could to look for him — I myself feel very sorry for him. He’s been missing since yesterday evening, and I wasn’t aware. Thank God they found him — some servant in Denezhnyj Lane caught him and brought him back. Then I went to make two boring calls — on Sverbeeva¹³¹ and Bojanus,¹³² but I didn’t find either of them [at home].

Vasilij Ivanovich is coming to see you himself, and so I’m not writing anything about him. He’s sad: he brought two thousand [roubles], he was looking to buy a threshing machine — in Rjzan’ Gubernia, it seems.

When I got home, Misha was experiencing severe vomiting. I got frightened, but by evening he had cheered up, and was apparently healthy. But then there was one bad thing after another. Now Fet and both Serëzhas — your brother and our son — are in the study, along with Vasilij Ivanovich. Here I am writing this letter in haste. I’ve given Masha her lesson, fed Alësha [baby Aleksej], talked with horse sellers and coachmen, and the samovar is boiling; I’m being called, and I’m hurrying.

Concerning the horses: [the horse dealer] Konëk brought a horse and I paid 160 silver roubles [for it]. Tomorrow at 10 a.m. they’ll be bringing that other horse, and tomorrow, too, I’ll send the horses to Tula. The difference in the asking price according to my sources turned out be something around 5 silver roubles. And I know how much you want to see [these] horses [for yourself], and so I am sending them. Vasilij Ivanovich will tell you when to send a horse and a man to Tula for them. Tomorrow I’ll hand over the money for the other horse. Have I taken care of everything, and are you satisfied with me?

I just gave everyone some tea before finishing this letter. Now Fet’s gone, after a long conversation with your brother Serëzha. I stayed talking by the samovar, chatting with Vasilij Ivanovich. Iljusha had a good nap and then took tea with us, too. He didn’t go to the gymnasium [today], his [missing] Malysh was driving him crazy. I had so many thoughts that my pen could hardly keep up with what I was thinking and wanting to write; now I’ve interrupted my train of thought and forgotten everything.

Now with this interruption I need to think about what might interest you [concerning our children]. Tanja went to school; Serëzha was at the university;¹³³ Lëlja has had a bad cold all day; the little ones are healthy. Farewell, my dear friend. As to how to comfort you, my dove, there’s only one thing I can do: love and feel sorry for you, but you don’t need that any more. What do you need? [I’d like] at least to know. Hugs and kisses to you, and I am hastening to send off this letter.

Sonja.

Nº 78 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 73]
8 April 1882. 11 p.m. Thursday. [Moscow]

My dear Lëvochka, I’ve just got back from carrying out your wishes [expressed in] your letter about helping a poor student. I started by going to Sukhotin;¹³⁴ there I was told that everyone was at Fokht’s,¹³⁵ who is on the verge of death. I then asked to be taken to L’vova’s,¹³⁶ but changed my mind and went to Konjushkovskij Lane [where the D’jakovs live]. I went into D’jakov’s house; all the Sukhotins were there, down to the last one: the husband Sergej Mikhajlovich, his wife, and their son with his [first] wife.¹³⁷ So strange to see them all together. Fokht’s agony ended and he didn’t die; hope appeared once more. Liza Obolenskaja¹³⁸ was also there. Somehow I managed to get hold of that letter and read it aloud. I saw that everyone took it to heart, and I’m certain that D’jakov will also help, though he did not say anything. Misha Sukhotin has undertaken to deliver this letter tomorrow to the spiritualist L’vov; everyone says he will do what he can, and I left your 20 silver roubles in an envelope [for the poor student].

Now to your other matter — the proofs.¹³⁹ They brought them at 8 o’clock this evening; the envelope was so big and thick that they couldn’t get it into the postbox, and I shall send it tomorrow by post to Yasenki, where you will receive it as a package. I also included some tape for the furniture; give it to Ivan.¹⁴⁰

We’re all in good health here, and for the moment it’s pretty quiet. Yesterday they got our Tanja all flustered regarding the party at the Khomjakovs.¹⁴¹ Vsevolod¹⁴² came and said that this would be the last Wednesday and there would be so many good guests, etc., etc. Then Valentina¹⁴³ arrived, and started to ask and plead for [our daughter] Tanja to be allowed to go [with them]. They both [Valentina and Tanja] kept insisting so much that I hesitated a moment and said, maybe for an hour or two. By this I managed to spoil the whole situation: I gave Tanja a faint hope, and in the evening she began to insist: “Let’s go, let’s go!” It was very hard not to give in. But all at once I had second thoughts: I remembered that you did not want this, that it was completely contrary to my views, and so I didn’t go. Tanja started crying and got angry, but things were resolved almost peacefully.

Today I was with my namesake [Countess Sof’ja Andreevna] Tolstaja.¹⁴⁴ These two mysterious ladies played a game of simplicity with me, but I didn’t like them. We’re simply not compatible! Let’s forget about them — I have no desire to continue our acquaintance, and I hope they feel the same way about me. But they will be living in Moscow all spring and [all] next winter. Whoever meets up with them is in for a rough time!

Tanja and Il’ja are at Devich’e Field at the Olsuf’evs’.¹⁴⁵ Serëzha passed his first exam with high marks, and he’s happy, and satisfied. Lëlja and Masha are pale, nervous and pitiful. The boys are noisy; Alësha’s a dear and he smiles as he shakes his head on his delicate little neck.

Farewell, Lëvochka, write and tell me about your health and your nerves, ask me to do something, and don’t ever be a stranger [to me].

Sonja.

Nº 79 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/200]
9 April 1882. Yasnaya Polyana.

Friday 9:30 p.m.

I’ve just come back from [hunting near] the apiary, took three shots, didn’t kill anything. — A marvellous evening, warm, quiet, there’s a crescent moon shining. A lot of good thoughts, which I would write [to you], only I have a feeling you may read [this letter] to others, and I shall prepare myself. — Don’t take the plan [I outlined] yesterday (I [am prepared to] remain in Moscow to the end of [the children’s] exams) for a combat de générosité. I shall be quite happy to stay [there], knowing that you are at Yasnaya with the children. And I shall take care of all our Moscow affairs to a T. Do allow me, too, that pleasure. And I shall find some things to do in Moscow — possibly there will be some proofs [to check]. —

Yesterday Agaf’ja Mikhajlovna sat and cried and grieved for a long time — strange, as always, but sincerely: “Lev Nikolaevich, Batjushka,¹⁴⁶ tell me what I should do. I’m afraid I’m going out of my mind. I go to [my dog] Shumikha, give her a hug, and start to cry: ‘No, Shumikha, our dear one is not here’”, and so forth. And she herself starts weeping. And today I was on my way back from Yasenki, where I went to get percussion caps, cartridges and envelopes, and happened to meet a troika of fine peasant horses moving along at a slow trot. It was being driven by two young men and carrying something rather strange — as it seemed to me — flowers in pots, all in pink and white. As I caught up to them, [I saw] a black coffin all decked out with wreaths of fresh, living flowers. “What are you carrying,” [I asked]. “A gentleman.” “What kind of [gentleman]?” “A dead gentleman.” “Who is he?” “Glazkov.”¹⁴⁷ They were taking him to the estate. How strange!

Yesterday after [my talk with] Agaf’ja Mikhajlovna I went and ate some sauerkraut for the night. And there is no sauerkraut like Marija Afanasevna’s anywhere in the world! And while I couldn’t get to sleep for a long time, I did sleep well. And today I got down to work with pleasure. Just a bit, but meaningfully, so that I am experiencing something I haven’t felt in a long time — a sense that I have “earned my bread”. And the “bread” is excellent — green cabbage soup, corned beef, and sauerkraut again with kvass.

This morning before coffee I walked to the village to see the village elder, and there, together with three old men: Matvej Egorov,¹⁴⁸ Tit¹⁴⁹ and Pëtr Osipov¹⁵⁰ — discussed how to divide Aleksej’s¹⁵¹ inheritance fairly. Varvara¹⁵² is the only one who is terribly greedy. How could the curse of money not be an evil?! She’s crying out of envy, and [I] pity her. We have to try to undo sin, like you did with Lokhmacheva.¹⁵³

Another pitiful woman from Vorob’ëvka¹⁵⁴ came for some quinine. And another, who was left alone after her husband was imprisoned in a dungeon — really pitiful; I know both the husband and the wife. And then there was the widow Kurnasenkova,¹⁵⁵ who couldn’t end her dispute with Grigorij Bolkhin¹⁵⁶ over a plot of land. And I hope to reconcile these two. — Osip Naumych¹⁵⁷ was here this morning. He brought honey. And he keeps complaining about his son. He [the son] sends him [the father] to spend the night in a fenced-in paddock. It’s cold under just an old fur coat. He chases him out, or else, he says, ‘I shan’t give [you] any bread.’ — This is an episode from actual peasant poverty, which we know little about.

I haven’t been receiving any letters from you and now I shall take this letter unsealed to Kozlovka, where I’ll add a reply [if I receive a letter from you there]. The night is marvellous — no policemen, no lamps burning, but it’s bright and calm out. Regarding our household situations, there was one that almost got me angry — the fact that mice have eaten away at about 300 beautiful apple-trees on the other side of the orchard. — Another thing: we owed Aleksej Stepanovich — and now his heir — a salary of 260 roubles. This is correct according to the [record-]books and his [note]book — still, it was an unpleasant [shock] to me. —

I took with me a [book by] Balzac ¹⁵⁸ and am reading it with delight when I have [a few] moments free. — You see, I am carrying out your plan of letter-writing — I never write I hope,¹⁵⁹ but only about myself. However, I very much wanted to say I hope a number of times concerning both you and the little ones, and about Masha’s health, and about Iljusha’s studies, and about Tanja’s passion for fun and reluctance to study. Anyway, hugs to you and the children.

[P.S.] I’ve just received your fine letter.¹⁶⁰ You did just the right thing, not letting Tanja go,¹⁶¹ and for now everything’s going well with you, as it is with me. [We’ll see] what God gives [us] tomorrow. Hugs and kisses, precious.

On the envelope: Moscow. Denezhnyj Lane, Prechistenka. Princess Volkonskaja house. Her Ladyship Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 80 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/205]
17 May 1882. Yasnaya Polyana.

I’m feeling unbearably happy here. I had a splendid sleep, got up at 10, had my fill of coffee with Tanja,¹⁶² played with the children (they are very happy and healthy), and went for a walk along the perimeter [of our estate], through yellow flowers and the Zaseka, along the road to Krapivna, to the apiary, to the circular birch grove, the swimming-hole, all around the Zakaz,¹⁶³ and returned home at 3 o’clock. [I say] “unbearably”, because I can’t feel my joy for a moment without thinking of you and your ordeals in Moscow. I’m so revived and refreshed in just one day that I feel I could go to Moscow and take over your [duties]. Please, darling, if you want to truly please me, summon me as soon as you can. But only if Lëlja’s health improves¹⁶⁴ and if it is decided that it would be better for him to go [to Yasnaya Polyana]. News that you are calling upon me to relieve you tomorrow would give me joy. I shall go with pleasure, and I hope that after my recovery here and the whole experience of surviving my illness, I shall be able to have a splendid time in Moscow for ten days. —

After returning home, I gathered the three girls together and went for a walk with them to meet [Leonid Dmitrievich] Urusov. We saw him yesterday. He was supposed to meet Nikolaj Nikolaevich the Younger,¹⁶⁵ who always travels on the same train as I do. We didn’t meet him and got back at 6, in time for the dinner Auntie Tanja had arranged. Yesterday, it turns out, I made a tragic mistake — inadvertently. In Moscow I was buying a ticket for myself and when I asked a porter to buy tickets for the servants, I [mistakenly] blurted out “To Tula” [instead of “To Kozlovka”]. Yesterday they sent [horses] to Kozlovka but there were no servants there. This morning Garasim [the Tolstoys’ butler] came to see about despatching the horses [to collect the servants at Tula]. —

They played some kind of [card] game [while they were waiting]. But everybody arrived back safe and sound.

I’m keeping my eye on the little ones, and, most importantly, having them spend as much time as they can in the garden. Inside is more dangerous and unhealthy.

These days the heat has been terrible, even here. How have you been surviving? Here we’re having a drought — it seems both the grass and the rye are doing poorly. —

Neither I nor Tanja have heard Andrjusha coughing, but now I’ll ask the nanny and report: — the nanny says that the cough is much better. — Two or three times a day.

This evening at 8 Urusov came, — he brought a pie for [our] tea — a token of hospitality, which was intended for you, but which we shall eat at [your sister] Auntie Tanja’s [in the annexe]. —

So do me a favour and summon me as soon as you can. I shall keep gloriously busy in Moscow finishing up my writing projects, going shopping, and renovating the house,¹⁶⁶ and the main thing, it will be delightful to know that you are in the fresh air [here at Yasnaya Polyana] with the little ones. —

Farewell, darling, hugs to you and kisses to my four boys. [Your sister] Tanja is writing, too.

Yours, L.

Nº 81 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 75]
Tuesday 18 May [1882. Moscow]

Today things are going very much better, dear friend Lëvochka. Lëlja’s health has evidently improved. Today he didn’t take any quinine, there is no fever, and his convulsions have eased. But he gave me a terrible fright during the night. Here I am asleep, and all at once I hear a cracking noise on the other side of the partition. I thought he might have fallen off the sofa — I rushed to his bed, but found it empty. I see him already running into the drawing room in just his nightshirt. I approach him and say, “What is it, Lëlja, where [are you going]?” I see the idiotic [grin on] his face and he tearfully answers: “Yes, over there, to sit, let me go, I’ll go.” Then I realise he’s sleep-walking and I lead him quietly to his bed. For a long time I couldn’t get to sleep; this really shook me. The little one is better, too, he’s not coughing as much and had a very good sleep. Today I wasn’t tired and experienced no melancholy… I did drive out to finish a few errands, but I shan’t be going out again, I got everything done. Yesterday at dinnertime Urusov ¹⁶⁷ came by together with his niece Bogdanova to look at the house. It seems she doesn’t want to buy it — she’s afraid of the mould. [Ivan Aleksandrovich] Arnautov was here today, perfumed and pleasant. He says that there are other [potential] buyers, and he can’t reduce the price [for us]. [Our son] Serëzha went to see Shchepkin,¹⁶⁸ didn’t find him in, but left a message [enquiring] about an architect.¹⁶⁹ Il’ja got a ‘3’ [out of 5] today on his Latin and is very happy. Last night I had an [unpleasant] situation with him. He spent the whole evening in the company of drunken housepainters. I chased him out of there and swore at him. He retorted, and I told him that I considered it my duty to protect and watch over him, and for that he could even strike me if he wanted, but I would still keep on protecting him to my last breath from what I thought might harm him. He mellowed considerably, and we parted friends. We took tea en famille: [my brother] Sasha, Masha Sverbeeva with her husband,¹⁷⁰ Uncle Kostja and I with the children. We had a very good time. Today Sasha and Uncle [Kostja] went to Neskuchnyj Gardens,¹⁷¹ while Serëzha and Il’ja went with Adam¹⁷² to go bathing. I am clearing things away and packing them little by little. Liza¹⁷³ has started to get accustomed to the baby and I’ve found a bit of relief [from looking after him].

Oh, what smudges! I hadn’t noticed them [until just now]!

How are all of you doing? Happy! And I shall be happy soon. [My brother] Sasha went to see the Arnautov house and garden and was ecstatic over the garden. They brought me a huge bouquet of flowers. Farewell, my dears, hugs and kisses to all. I hope you are all healthy, that [our daughter] Tanja is taking good care of the household and qu’elle fait la maman. I bought her some pale blue and pink ribbons today. Don’t you need something to go with your foulard dress, Tanja — the dress you will be sewing from two [older ones]? Today Il’ja will pick up your canvas and portfolio from the Tret’jakov Gallery. Sasha praised your first piece¹⁷⁴ a lot. We get along very well together. Tomorrow we’ll send my sister Tanja a telegram to Kozlovka. Farewell once more, love me and don’t be [too] strict [with me].

Sonja.

Nº 82 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/213]
11 September 1882. Moscow.

We arrived safely and on time. [Our son] Serëzha met us, we said good-bye to Tanja¹⁷⁵ and went to the Volkonskaja house, and from there to the Arnautov [house]. The renovation is coming along, but there is still a lot to be done. Serëzha’s report was accurate. We shall be able to move into the lower rooms in about two or three days — namely, the boys’ room, the dining room, Tanja’s room and [our] bedroom. They are already wallpapered. The dining room has that yellow paper with the appearance of wood, which you picked out. I think it looks fine. The corner room won’t be ready yet, since they are painting the floor. That’s too bad. If I had managed to catch them in time, I would have left it unpainted. — I am thinking of moving furniture into these rooms — the ones that are ready — and [start] clearing out the Volkonskij house in about three days. I think you will be able to move when the whole of the ground floor and the old upper floor are ready. Let them finish the drawing room and dining-rooms [of the old house] while we are still there. How do you feel?

I haven’t seen the architect yet. I shall go see him today and write you in more detail after talking with him. — I’m staying at the Volkonskij house. We’ve been sleeping in the children’s room. Today we want to move to the annexe of the Arnautov [house]. —

Yesterday I dropped in with Lëlja to see Polivanov.¹⁷⁶ He’s more doubtful about Lëlja than Iljusha — [afraid] that he will lag behind. Il’ja can go into Grade 6 for classes and at the same time sit the exam. — The Tsar [Alexander III] lives a kind of a mysterious life; nobody knows in which palace he resides, but crowds gather here and there and nobody knows. Kosten’ka is still the same. He has everything, and he’s still pitiful, and is still waiting for [some kind of] position. —

I’m hurrying off to the post office. Farewell, my dear. Please don’t feel bored. I’ll probably be back some time [soon]. I’ll get Lëlja established in the gymnasium, and with the help of Serëzha and Sergej [Petrovich Arbuzov] I’ll move the furniture and then come for you. We want to hire a cook and eat at home. And that will be better for Serëzha as well. Lëlja will stay either with Serëzha or [our neighbours] the Olsuf’evs¹⁷⁷ when I’m not here.

Hugs and kisses to all. —

On the envelope: Tula. Her Ladyship Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 83 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 78]
[12 September 1882.] Sunday evening [Yasnaya Polyana]

Today I received your letter,¹⁷⁸ dear Lëvochka, and it perplexed me. The tone of it suggests that the house is not ready at all, and God knows when we shall be able to move. I can’t make out any details from the contents [of your letter]. What exactly is not ready on the upper floor? Are the two rooms off the hallway — and the [servant] girls’ room and the kitchen — ready? You somehow always [manage to] forget the servants.¹⁷⁹ Then, if the downstairs is taken up with furniture, where shall we live? After all, we have a lot of furniture; it’s bulky and it could all be broken in the tight space, if [we are going to] be living there. Anyway, I can’t tell you anything about what I am thinking or when I shall move; I would need to know everything in detail [in advance]. One thing is clear to me: it is a thousand times more dangerous for Iljusha to live here than in Moscow; and to walk through the snow and frost for five hours straight, God knows how far, is much worse than going to the gymnasium. He studies two hours a day or less. I tremble every moment for fear [that he might come down with] inflammation of the lungs, and my one thought is to get him to Moscow as soon as possible. He is recovering slowly [from typhoid fever], and how can he recover if he spends so much time walking [12 km to Tula, either to the gymnasium or to see his tutor]? The ground everywhere is covered with snow; the temperature here, out of the wind, is only three degrees during the day, the wind is from the north and [stoves] are burning everywhere.

Please don’t forget two things [in particular]: [the stoves] should be kept burning everywhere, and that the ventilation windows and the winter window-frames should be installed. Pity that you were so unclear about the cook. If you had written positively, I would have sent Alëna ¹⁸⁰ — a week earlier or later wouldn’t have made much of a difference, would it? — while any woman could have replaced her here. If you are really determined to have meals at home, just wire me and I’ll send Alëna at once. They can take food from the larder, and there are dishes [already] there. I could send some casserole dishes with her.

Bored? — I’m not bored at all. It feels so good to be in a quiet [home] and concentrate on my thoughts, [to be] with innocent little ones and the girls who are very nice to me and even cheerful.

But they have to start school, [they] all need to live a proper life, [we] all need to be together. The weather is repulsive, so in any case we can’t go [yet]. Today I actually had them saddle up Sharik, and put Gnedoj in a harness for the carriage — we wanted to go for a ride. But no sooner had I started off on Sharik on the road to Tula than a north wind blew so piercingly that I came back and [decided to] keep everyone at home. The children went out for a walk. Iljusha killed a woodcock and a drake.

I am sending you Turgenev’s letter.¹⁸¹

What a stupid move on the architect’s part to have the floor painted in the autumn! Anything would be better than a now damp floor which everything will stick to, and [we’ll be] tormented by the smell of paint.

Well, enough talk! God willing, everything will work out; only stay healthy and cheerful, and love me. An elderly woman from Gorodnja has come; I gave her a head-scarf. She is very happy, sits with me and chatters on. Alësha is petting [the hunting dog] Bul’ka at the same time. The sky has cleared somewhat. When will you finally come? I would be so happy. Farewell, dear! I’ve run out of paper.

Sonja.

Did you get the receipt for the apples and your books and the inventory?

Nº 84 – LEV NIKOLAEVHICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83, p. 578]
POWER OF ATTORNEY ¹⁸²
21 May 1883. Tula.

Your Ladyship

Most kind Countess and

dearest wife

Sofia Andreevna.

I hereby grant you the authority to manage all my affairs and also authorise you to represent me in all legal, out-of-court, public-office and administrative places and institutions and with official persons of any and all agencies in [matters] concerning all my affairs: civil — in the capacity of claimant or respondent and criminal — in the capacity of counsel for the prosecution or defence or of civil plaintiff, to file any last wills and testaments drawn up at my request for probate and in confirmation of my rights of inheritance regarding estates which have come into my possession by legal inheritance, regarding my taking possession of real estate and securing my rights to real estate by all legal means. To carry out all this you are authorised: to submit any petitions, declarations, explanations, comments, replies, objections, refutations and other business documents; to present in court verbal and written explanations; to file recusal motions, to commence third party claims and to act on my behalf as a third party in proceedings, to counterclaim against a plaintiff, to deliver a defence to counterclaims against me; to raise doubts concerning the authenticity [of statements or claims] and suspicions of forgery of instruments and documents and to respond to such suspicions [on the part of others], to claim damages and legal costs for court proceedings; to bring motions to quash enforceable court orders, to bring appellate and cassation complaints in all forums, not excluding the Directing Senate; to receive from any source any kinds of copies, testimonies, memoranda, certificates, original documents and instruments, extracts from and copies of instruments, writs of execution, deeds and other business documents, to request the enforcement of decisions currently in legal force; to direct how all my real estate shall be managed; I authorise [you] to fully act on my behalf, to hire and discharge officials and servants, to lease lands, various [agricultural and hunting] grounds and government estates in operating lease on terms according to your discretion, through oral or written agreements with or without penalty. Any [of my] real estate in whole or in part I authorise you to sell at a price and under terms according to your discretion, to draw up deeds of purchase, purchase and sale agreements with or without penalty, to receive deposits and to issue receipts of deposit. Also to mortgage my real estate through private hands, Banks and societies, to draw up mortgages, to receive mortgage deeds, to issue obligations on credit terms in respect to sale and securities, to receive all receivable sums and loans, and also out of my Eastern loan bonds deposited in the State Bank to take from the Bank all or as many as are deemed necessary and sign the Bank records in my stead. In general, to receive any sums owing to me from any source, as well as postal shipments, moneys and interest notes, registered letters. This authorisation may be assigned by you in whole or in part to other parties and in everything you and your fiduciaries do legally, I trust [you] and shall not argue or dispute. This power of attorney is given to Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya. Lieutenant [ret.] Count Lev Tolstoy. The year one thousand eight hundred and eighty three. The twenty-first day of May. This power of attorney was executed before me, Jakov Fëdorovich Beloborodov, a Notary in and for the city of Tula, at my office, located in the First City District in Kiev Street in my own house by Lieutenant [ret.] Count Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy living in the village of Yasnaya Polyana, Krapivna Uezd, who is personally known to me and possesses the legal capacity to draw up legal acts. Whereby I, a Notary, certify that this power of attorney was signed by Count Tolstoy in his own hand. Register Nº 562. Notary Beloborodov.

Nº 85 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/234]
25 May 1883. Samara farmstead.

[25th]. Wednesday.

Second morning at the farmstead.¹⁸³ —

I am not at all happy or feeling pleasant. [I would say, I am] even depressed and sad. I saw you in a dream, and I think unceasingly of you all, but I do not regret coming. I have to clear up the mess I started here. Half of last year’s foals have died, and now from 80 mares [we have only] 24. I’m ashamed to say I was extremely upset, but later I rejoiced, and now I’m very glad that this silly desire has left me, and I decided to get rid of everything and sell it off. This is like the fire in the greenhouse,¹⁸⁴ which freed me from many vexations. It’s high time I did this. We shall [still] get between 4 and 6 thousand [roubles] — of that there can be no doubt. — The leasing will take place only for mowing and ploughing, with payment in advance. At the moment we are owed 10,000 [roubles], 5,000 of which should be written off. — Please don’t let this upset you, but rather let it make you happy. In any case we have a lot of extra [assets]. The sale of all our cattle, horses, buildings and sown wheat should bring us in more than 10,000 (I am deliberately underestimating the figures), so your desire to pay off the mortgage on the [Arnautov] house may come true. —

I am in a serious mood — not a joyful mood, but a calm one, and I cannot live without work. Yesterday I spent the [whole] day messing about, and I felt rotten and ashamed, and now I’m busy. I’m not interested in the lifestyles of Bibikov and Vasilij Ivanovich — they’re neither fish nor fowl nor good red herring. No physical labour and no want. Nor any intellectual labour. And their relations to the muzhiks, the leasing of lands, bargaining, tea-drinking — these are all terribly dull, stupefying and repulsive activities. — This whole morning Pëtr Andreevich¹⁸⁵ (the new farmstead manager) spent in the large room, leasing out pasturelands and haggling [over the price], and I couldn’t help overhearing. I’m in the end room — the children’s room. I don’t know how it will be later on, but right now I am uncomfortable with my unavoidable communication with Bibikov [and] Vasilij Ivanovich, and my position as a landlord, as well as the petitions from the poor which I cannot fulfil. — Even though I’m ashamed and find it repulsive to think about my foul body, the koumiss, I know, will be helpful, especially in improving [the condition of] my stomach and, consequently, my nerves and mental state, and I will be able to do more while I am still alive, and hence I feel I should stay drinking longer, but I’m afraid I shan’t hold out. Perhaps I shall move to the Karalyk. There I shall be more independent.

How is [our son] Serëzha doing? The longer I wait for him here, the more I worry about him. I shall wire you directly he arrives. —

It was interesting for me to measure myself against the life here. It seems I haven’t been here that long, but I’ve changed enormously, — and even though you may find that it’s for the worse, I know that it’s for the better — I feel more at peace, and find myself more at ease with the person I am now than with what I used to be.

On my way here I saw many migrants — quite a touching and majestic sight.

Even when I am with you I worry about you all, but when I’m at a distance I try either not to think at all or think more seriously — otherwise, if I think about what could happen, I could go out of my mind with worry.

Please write me honestly, and not in a moment of concern, but in a moment of calm, how you feel about my absence; I need to know this to make a decision as to when to return. The koumiss, after all, is just a fantasy. I am ready to come home now and my heart wants to come home now, and I shall be very happy. In any case, my trip has already had a result, a very important result, namely the simplifying of household management. Farewell, darling, hugs and kisses to you, the children, Tanja and her children.¹⁸⁶ And to the whole family.

On the envelope: Tula. Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 86 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 85]
29 May [1883. Yasnaya Polyana]

Dear Lëvochka, I already sent you a letter to Samara, General Delivery, and that’s how I shall write from now on, but just this one letter I am sending through the local Patrovka administration — hopefully it will reach you. My home situation is not entirely peaceful, since Alësha¹⁸⁷ and Andrjusha are coughing terribly — very much like whooping-cough. Alësha vomited several times yesterday from the coughing; Andrjusha hasn’t done any vomiting yet, but he chokes and coughs in fits. Misha, on the other hand, is just about healthy. My sister Tanja has also had a terrible cough. Nighttimes are horrid because of the children’s coughing, but in the morning they get up and seem much better, they play and eat — and I tend to calm down. We’re having marvellous weather. Not hot, but clear, calm and beautiful. The evening and night [air] is fresh, there’s a new moon out; the greenery, grass and foliage — it’s all so fresh, strong and thick, and is growing fantastically this year. Il’ja, Alcide¹⁸⁸ and Lëlja go hunting with dogs in the company of Golovin and his wife;¹⁸⁹ Il’ja killed two hares. They apparently have quite a fun time: they have tea and bread; yesterday they asked me for a pie with jam — and off they go to the woods. [Our daughter] Tanja works on a portrait of Mme Seuron in the mornings, sometimes she also takes a pencil and does some drawing. Then she reads. Sometimes they go for a ride or play croquet. I write all day long now — transcribing this French article.¹⁹⁰ In the evenings I play croquet with Tanja. Today [Leonid Dmitrievich] Urusov is here, as was Ivan Ivanovich Raevskij — he had dinner and spent the evening with us. I went to see Marfa Evdokimovna,¹⁹¹ who is ill. I think she has typhoid fever; I gave her a little advice, and want to look after her properly. The one thing that gives me real pleasure is treating the sick, especially when the treatment is successful. There are an awful lot of sick people; [many] come from far away. Today they brought in such an unfortunate muzhik, who was simply a fright with his fever. [When] I gave him some wine, he trembled all over, [then] I gave him tea and quinine. I have no idea what will become of him, but I would like to know if he will recover.

We all live calmly and on good terms; the children study and behave themselves well.

There are times when I feel unbearably lonely and melancholy without you, but these last but moments, and in my mind I want you to go on drinking koumiss [at least] a little longer and take a little rest from us and our life that you do not much care for. Just so that some ‘M-a’¹⁹² doesn’t come skipping up [to you] and that people claiming moral possession over you don’t distract your soul. — [Our son] Serëzha is probably with you by now; I am grateful to him for selling the boat, and for being rational, and for writing me — I received all his letters. But from you I’ve received only one letter;¹⁹³ I’d like there to be another one as soon as possible; when you’re away, your letters help me live, just like your voice when you’re around; but your voice helps me [only] when you love me along with it, — but now that’s changed a great deal.

Farewell, hugs and kisses to you and Serëzha.

Sonja.

Nº 87 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/244]
29 September 1883. Yasnaya Polyana.

Thursday.

Today I arrived from Krapivna. I went there on a summons to jury duty. I arrived between 2 and 3 in the afternoon. The proceedings had already begun, and I was fined 100 roubles. When I received the summons, I said I could not be a juror. They asked: Why? I replied: On account of my religious convictions. Then they asked a second time whether I was refusing categorically. I said there was no way I could [accept]. And I left. The whole conversation was very polite. Now they will probably impose an additional 200-rouble fine, and I don’t know whether it will end there. I think it will.

As to whether I was absolutely unable to act otherwise, I’m sure you will have no doubt. But please don’t be angry at me for not telling you that I was appointed a juror. I would have told you if you’d asked or I had the occasion to; but I didn’t feel like telling you outright. You would have worried, and you would have alarmed me; I was alarmed as it was and was trying with all my might to calm myself down. I did want to stay [in Moscow] or go back to Yasnaya, but then there was this [summons]. And so please don’t be angry with me. I could have simply not gone at all. In that case there would have been the same fines, and they would have summoned me again the next time. But now I’ve told them once and for all that I cannot be [a juror]. I told them in as soft a manner [as I could], and even with that kind of expression nobody — [they were all] muzhiks — understood. — I didn’t see any of the court officials. I spent the night at Krapivna. I kept reading Turgenev.¹⁹⁴ And today at 9 o’clock I headed out. The day is clear and hot — miraculously fine! I arrived at 12, and since nothing was ready [to eat], I went out after some woodcocks, and ended up walking around until 5 o’clock; now I’ve come back and am writing to you. —

I still have not received my proofs¹⁹⁵ yet. I’ve been working just one day and haven’t finished the conclusion. But it seems very important to me, and I’m constantly thinking about it. — Tomorrow I’ll get down to it, if the spirit moves; if not, I’ll go [hunting] with my dogs. I haven’t yet decided when I’ll go. I want to get [this] finished; if only I could put in a day or two of solid work, I’d come [to see you] right away, since I miss you all and am worried about you. Pity that I write and think not just about you alone, but about you and the children, imagining that they will be reading this letter, and so I don’t write the way I want to. In any case I am writing it all on the same page.

I especially want to see you. During this past while (I can’t say exactly how long — it’s been continuing to grow) you’ve become especially dear and interesting to me, and dear in all respects. It seems a new bond is being forged between us, and I worry terribly that it might break. —

Despite the beauty here, I shall soon come [to see you]. I haven’t been receiving any letters, as I have not sent [anyone] to Tula [to check the post]. I’ll do that tomorrow.

Farewell, darling. Hugs and kisses to you and the children. Regards to Mme Seuron.

Right now I’m very tired and I’m famished. I’m writing before dinner. And I’ll write you [another] letter. —

On the envelope: Moscow. Khamovniki Lane. Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya. Private house.

Nº 88 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/245]
30 September1883. Yasnaya Polyana.

Friday evening.

I have now received from Kozlovka your two letters and a telegram, — two splendid letters.¹⁹⁶ Both of them indicate to me that you are in that same lovely good spirit which I left you in, and which you’ve been in, with minor interruptions, for a long time. — Read this letter alone to yourself. — Never have I thought about you so much, never have my thoughts about you been so good and absolutely pure as now. — You are precious to me in every respect. —

I keep thinking about Turgenev and I love him terribly; I feel sorry for him and can’t stop reading him. I am constantly living with him. I shall for certain be either reading him, or I shall write something about him and share it with others.

Tell Jur’ev ¹⁹⁷ that I will [speak], but that the 15th [of October] is better.

As to the proofs, I asked the printshop technical manager and Lavrov¹⁹⁸ to send them to me at Yasenki. I think they sent a second copy to Yasenki. In any case send them to me at Yasenki. I am getting along here very well indeed. I haven’t got anything written down on paper, but have been doing a lot of good thinking and am waiting for the first good working day. My health is not perfect — my stomach is still disordered. Today I did a little work — [but] I saw it wasn’t going well and [instead] I went [hunting] with Tit¹⁹⁹ and the dogs — we caught a splendid fox and a brown hare.

I feel very ashamed, knowing that you are miserable, troubled and burdened, while I am doing so splendidly; but I comfort myself with the thought that this is necessary for my work. What seemed fine to me in Moscow with my frazzled nerves is here being transformed and becoming so clear that I actually find joy in it. On the scale of life I feel perfect here. Of course I sense the absence — and very much so — of you and the children, but the quiet and the solitude are like a bath to me.

Whether I stay here another week I shall decide on the basis of your letters. Only don’t think that I very much want to stay. I feel good with all of you, and good here, too, and neither one nor the other predominates, so that even if one move of the finger should tip the scale to either side, I shall be satisfied in every way. Despite my stomach disorder, I am in good spirits, and I love everyone — you most of all. — I’ve been reading Turgenev’s [1864 story] “Enough” [Dovol’no]. Read it, what a charming piece! — Hugs and kisses to you and the children. Regards to Mme Seuron. I feel sorry for you most of all regarding Kostin’ka.²⁰⁰ Don’t spend [a lot of time] with him. —

On the envelope: Moscow. Khamovniki Lane. Tolstoy house. Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 89 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 98]
1 October [1883. Moscow]

It’s now the third day that I’ve received your letters on time,²⁰¹ dear Lëvochka. Pity that [in your letters] to me you write mostly about me, since that prevents me from being completely natural, and instinctively I shall be trying either to write what pleases you or to make a deliberate effort to be natural and genuine — which often leads to harshness.

I’m afraid that in my letter of yesterday I was not sufficiently soft in responding to your refusal to be a juror. The old selfish feeling arose in me that you don’t care about your family and are making us alarmed about you and your safety. Of course you acted according to your convictions, but if you had not gone at all nor said anything, and [simply] paid the fine, you would also have been acting on your convictions, only without taking any risks and without upsetting anybody. You hid this from me because you knew that this is what I would have wanted and insisted upon. But you inadvertently took pleasure in saying it publicly and taking some kind of risk.

I am not moving my finger to tip the scale in my favour. I well understand that quiet is something extremely necessary for a man who works with his mind. Stay [at Yasnaya] as long as you need to and as long as you like. It seems to me that when you feel good, peaceful and calm, I feel [at least] half better on account of that. Our times here are very troubling and sometimes extremely difficult. I am quite calm, even overly so, but my back hurts and I have a gnawing feeling in my soul. Nothing, positively nothing, brings me joy.

Can I be better for having lost my capacity for joy?

I bought [a picture of] Turgenev lying in his coffin; the photo is marvellous. I’ve been looking into his calm visage and thinking so clearly, so sincerely: “If only I could go where he is… how good it would be!”

Today I went with [my children] Tanja, Masha, Andrjusha and Misha to vespers at the Cathedral of the Saviour.²⁰² My little ones have been tormenting me, they kept asking to go there as Liza and Varja had been there and told [them about it]. It made no [particular] impression [on me] — it was majestic, bright, crowded, nothing more. But the little ones were happy about both the [carriage] ride and the church.

Tanja all this time has been very precious and friendly. Il’ja, Masha and Lëlja very well behaved, while Serëzha is very often rude and unpleasant. That’s so sad! We hired a teacher for Lëlja today, a student, on Serëzha’s recommendation. I liked his looks and his modesty.

Liza Obolenskaja²⁰³ was here with her two daughters, who played croquet with Masha and Andrjusha and really had a good time.

You know, Lëvochka, that Kosten’ka²⁰⁴ has practically made himself a home here! He sleeps in your study, and from morning ’til night he keeps after me — confidently and boldly — he either demands all sorts of improvements in my household, or snacks, or wine, or he starts making fun of me for writing you every day, or he [tries to] teach me how to live… Sometimes I just feel like crying, I’ve run out of patience! Everything my frail soul can muster to combat this troublesome everyday life and clamber out of it into the light — all that is suddenly, I feel, perishing. I am getting weaker, I listen patiently to [stories] about gilded picture-frames or his social successes, while all along just as patiently a book lies before me, waiting for me [to read]. — Our daughter Tanja is beginning to experience the same thing. Today she, [too,] kept running around the house with a book [in her hand], just [trying] to get away from him.

But it seems that I complain too much. He’s [actually] quite pitiful. Madame [Seuron] thanks you for remembering her. They didn’t manage to get the proofs to the post office today. According to their new procedures they are only open ’til noon on major holidays, and I got the telegram ²⁰⁵ right at 12, and it was frightfully mixed up. I’ll send [the proofs] off tomorrow; pity that they will [arrive] a whole day later.

I’m glad that you’re doing fine at Yasnaya, but [try to] be more careful with your stomach. Farewell for now. My letters are too long and empty. Tell Mitrofan²⁰⁶ to prepare your fox fur, give it back [to you] and send it to me along with Tanja’s [furs]. Go to Chepyzh²⁰⁷ and dig up three or four young oaks and bring them to me to plant in the garden here (for sentiment’s sake). There are no oak trees here. Well, now I’ve run out of paper. Hugs and kisses.

Nº 90 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/251]
10 November 1883. Yasnaya Polyana.

Thursday, 10 p.m.

I had a bad sleep. It was cold and I didn’t feel well. But everything’s fine now. I stoked [the stove] in my study, greased the windows, and the evening is good and warm now, I feel marvellous. — Today I received letters from Yasenki — some interesting ones from Sandoz²⁰⁸ and another one from a Frenchman [unknown]. I went to look at the horses. Very good ones, but I’m afraid there will be some worries and troubles on account of them, and I shall try to sell them. — They will eat hay, but it’ll be a while before they fetch an income. Filipp²⁰⁹ was not at home. He was taking [his son] Mikhail to the conscription office. Thank God they didn’t take him; he remains exempt. Nikolaj Mikhajlovich²¹⁰ brought [his son as well], but they didn’t take him either. At the stable [I] met a muzhik with a woman. The muzhik came to see you from some distance, from the other side of the Zaseka, for treatment; he was terribly disappointed that you weren’t here. He said he knows one muzhik whom everybody treated and nobody could cure him, but you cured him.²¹¹ I even felt flattered. Then a woman in her late pregnancy who had four little children — along with her elderly mother-in-law and a young relative who is the daughter-in-law of her husband’s brother. There were two muzhiks [in the family], and in a single week her husband was put in prison for a fight which resulted in someone’s death, and her brother-in-law was forcibly conscripted. And she was left all alone. I wrote a letter to Davydov,²¹² asking whether [her husband] couldn’t be released on bail. After that I sat down to work, but got very little done. Mitrofan [Nikolaevich Bannikov] told me that [my brother] Serëzha will be having dinner at Bibikov’s.²¹³ I walked over to Teljatinki, but Serëzha had left for Moscow. I returned and had dinner. Agaf’ja Mikhajlovna is sitting [here] and Dmitrij Fëdorovich ²¹⁴ is transcribing. The room has warmed up. I’m also stoking [the stove in] the boys’ room with the vaulted ceiling. If it warms up, I’ll move in there tomorrow. I forgot [my copy of] Une Vie²¹⁵ at home. In the meantime read it and keep it in a safe place.

Your portrait in pencil²¹⁶ seems poor, but whenever I look at it, I have terribly vivid memories, and there’s something sorrowful in it, something like the feeling I had when we last said good-bye to each other. And that moves me deeply. Darling, why are you unhappy? It is so evident to me how you can and should be happy, and how you torment yourself with your révolte against everything. Is self-resignation truly impossible? How good everything would be for you and everybody around you! As I write this I can just imagine how it might make you angry. Don’t be angry, my dove; just looking at this portrait makes me realise how much I love you and need you. —

Hugs and kisses to you and the children, and regards to Mme Seuron.

On the envelope: Moscow. Khamovniki Lane in her private house. Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 91 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/252]
11 November1883. Yasnaya Polyana.

It is my fate [for the time being] to be here at Yasnaya in a bad mental state and incapable of working. It’s that way right now, too. I can’t finish what I started. I feel warm, good, comfortable, and have my customary food. I received your letter²¹⁷ today and hope to receive another one tomorrow.

Just imagine, the Lieutenant’s wife died. I was out for a walk today and dropped in to see Frants Ivanovich,²¹⁸ and he told me. She went to Tula. An acquaintance was staying in the room next door. He spent the evening with her. She didn’t come out of her [hotel] room all the next day. They broke down the door. She was lying in bed, in the most restful pose — dead — from a heart rupture. I am reading both Stendhal²¹⁹ and Engelhardt.²²⁰ Engelhardt is a charm. I can’t read him or praise him enough; — a real contrast between our life and the actual life of the muzhiks, which we try so hard to forget. For me, it’s one of those books that free me, in part, from what I feel obligated to do. But he did it, and nobody reads it. Or they read and say: “Well, he’s a socialist.” But he’s by no means a socialist, he just tells it like it is. — Today I received a reply from [Nikolaj Vasil’evich] Davydov regarding the woman I was asking him about. He promises to do whatever he can and asks if he can come see me Sunday; he says he needs to see me regarding something for himself. If I have an opportunity, I shall invite him. — Today another woman came by, also in her late pregnancy, who has also been left all alone with four children. This is the widow of the one who was killed in the fight. She came to ask me not to request her husband’s murderer to be released on bail. — Amazing!

How are you and all our people doing? I hope,²²¹ they’re doing fine. I’ll know tomorrow. Hugs and kisses to you, darling. Today your portrait doesn’t seem so bad.

Hugs and kisses to the children.

Friday, 11 o’clock.

I’m alone at the moment. Only Dmitrij Fëdorovich [Vinogradov] was here; we talked about how he gets by (himself and his family) on 11 roubles 40 kopeks a month. He gets by.

On the envelope: Moscow. Khamovniki Lane. Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya. (Private house.)

Nº 92 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 102]
12 November [1883]. Saturday. [Moscow]

I’m terribly sorry you are not feeling yourself, dear Lëvochka. It’s as though you simply wasted your time going and living at Yasnaya. Maybe someone will need you there, and that’s fine. I myself would be only too glad to treat anyone — but there’s nothing to do here in Moscow [along that line]. I’m happy that the muzhik with wounds on his legs recovered — for three years he hadn’t walked (probably [the man] from Rvy)²²² — I tried my best with him; sometimes you’re just not in the mood, and you barely care about your patient, while at other times everything becomes clear and you’re eager to get involved, and things come out right. Today I’m not myself either: my back aches terribly, I spent an alarming, feverish night, and woke up all in a sweat. Thinking of how hot I felt, I looked at the thermometer and it was only 13. I dreamt that two teeth had fallen out²²³ and you see — I learnt the news, and so I was profoundly shocked by the Lieutenant’s wife’s death; and now Sasha Perfil’ev,²²⁴ a cadet, comes and tells me Koshelev²²⁵ died. Which Koshelev, I don’t know, the father or the son, it’s not in the papers yet, but it is known that the Beklemishevs (Aleksandr Ivanovich’s daughter) are very distressed.

Today I received a letter from Arkhangel’skij²²⁶ — he sold 57 bulls for 59 roubles each, and is sending 4,000 silver roubles to my name through the State Bank. Now I shall send the money to Tula and purchase a grand piano, as the children are really after me about that.

Today was a marvellous frosty day; on days like these we’ve usually gone skating around the whole pond. And since I am especially skilled at grieving, I was once again brought to tears by my past experiences — what used to weigh me down but has now become dear and precious [to me]. And I was thinking about myself — that if I wasn’t good before, what kind of a meanie am I now?! And if you were good before, how much better you are now!

[Our daughter] Tanja is asking me to write something about her — but I haven’t anything good to write about her. She doesn’t do anything, hasn’t been going to school. She’s enthusiastically preparing for the student concert tomorrow — she’s getting flowers and gloves ready, and is asking me to go, which I find extremely difficult. Her health is not good either. Her time of the month lasted just one day, and this after almost seven weeks. Andrjusha is also getting frail, pale and weak, and still has diarrhœa. The others are fine: Alësha is so cheerful he amuses the whole house.

[Since] Mme Seuron is reading Une Vie, I am still reading Alexandre Dumas fils,²²⁷ but I don’t really care for his reflections on Faust; you can’t make sense of his point of view.

Tanja and Anna Olsuf’eva²²⁸ were here, along with Madame Bojanus,²²⁹ whom I didn’t see.

Sergej [Petrovich Arbuzov] drinks without stopping. He keeps asking to go to Yasnaya, but I’m afraid to let him go; they’ll put him off [the train] at the first station. If I didn’t think that Arisha²³⁰ was coming, I would have sent him [to Yasnaya], and I don’t know what to do! New instances of his wretched behaviour have come to light; I’ll have to send him off, even though I’ve grown accustomed to him.

I write every day on time, and every day I receive a letter from you. When are you thinking of coming back? And now farewell. What long letters we write to each other, even if it’s [as often as] every day!

I just read over [my] letter — it is indeed pretty empty, with no real content.

Nº 93 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/258]
28 January 1884. Yasnaya Polyana.

Saturday evening.

Yesterday I was up late reading Droz’s book.²³¹ Tell [my brother] Serëzha that the book is very good. The overall view is not good — [the author] is young and still green behind the ears, but there’s a lot [in him] that is good and clever. Today I’ve been reading Shakespeare’s Coriolanus — in an excellent German translation — it reads very easily, but — [the story is] undoubtedly nonsense, which can please only the actors.

I’m not feeling well today and don’t want [to go outdoors] into the frost. Must be that I got overly tired yesterday. I have guests here at the moment: Agaf’ja Mikhajlovna, Dmitrij Fëdorovich²³² and Mitrofan [Bannikov], and they are keeping me from writing [this letter] — in any case, there’s nothing to write about. — It’s warm in the house, and I’ll move [there] tomorrow, if it’s not too cold and there’s no carbon monoxide. — Don’t worry [about me], as I approach my old age I involuntarily watch out for myself, so much so that it’s even repulsive. How are you all doing? There are quite a lot of you now, and each of you has many temptations [to deal with]. Hugs and kisses to you and the children.

L. T.

On the envelope: Moscow. Khamovniki. Count Tolstoy’s house. Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya.

Nº 94 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 104]
29 January. Sunday evening. 1884. [Moscow]

I’ve just received your letter,²³³ dear Lëvochka, and I’m very sorry [to hear] you’re not well. If this continues, it’s better you come back; otherwise with a below-normal room temperature and unhealthy food you’ll really get ill. And the weather [here] is magnificent, healthy and exhilarating — today I drove out, took a book to Princess Urusova,²³⁴ and from there I went to see Kushnerëv²³⁵ and Marakuev for copies. I really liked Princess Varvara Dmitrievna, too; she and I talked a lot — I stayed there for over an hour. She is both intelligent and understanding about everything, and must be a kind [person]. She has a very pleasant and lively face; I shall visit them on occasion. Another of his sisters, Ivanova,²³⁶ is also quite likeable, but I didn’t talk as much with her. — I found Kushnerev ill, in a dressing-gown. He was greatly apologetic, but I needed to obtain some copies, and I asked him [for them]. He said: “Here’s my card, but ask Marakuev.” However, the night before I had sent Serëzha to see Marakuev, but Marakuev very simply declared that since everyone was really interested in this work, he’d given all [the copies] out for reading and transcribing. I got so angry that today I went myself and told him: “The copies are not yours, but the Count’s, and he did not ask you, nor did he authorise you to give them out. And you must agree that the Count’s close relations, too, at the very least are equally entitled to their interest in his works, if not more.” He promised to bring two [copies] tomorrow. But don’t get upset with me: it simply confirmed to me that he is an extremely arrogant man, and we must be careful with him. (There were no unpleasantries between us.)

[Our daughter] Masha is still in the same condition: she has a temperature of 39.3 and her throat is very red and bloated. But there is no gathering and no abscess. She stays lying [in bed] and will not eat anything. Tanja has a stomach ache; she didn’t eat dinner, it’s just the time [of the month]. I’m trying to persuade her not to go to the ball today, but she is determined; it would grieve me to go today and leave Masha and get all tired myself, and pull Tanja away on the first day of her time.

Marakuev said that the secular censorship board passed your new book along to the religious censors; and that the archimandrite,²³⁷ the head of the censorship committee, read it and said that this book contains so many exalted truths that one cannot help but admit them, and that he from his point of view saw no reason not to let it through. — But I think that Pobedonostsev,²³⁸ tactless and pedantic as he is, will once again reject it. For the moment it is locked away at Kushnerëv’s and there is no [final] decision.

Il’ja and Lëlja had dinner at Uncle Serëzha’s. [Our son] Serëzha [dined] at home, but now he’s off to Petrovskoe-Razumovskoe with the Counts Olsuf’ev, while Il’ja and Lëlja will stay at home.

For a black [steed] they’re offering 250 silver roubles, the purchaser is serious; I saw him today. Wire me as soon as you can whether I should sell, and include [a word about] your health in the telegram. Don’t worry about us; while you’re gone I have [enough] energy for the two [of us], and if it gets bad, I’ll wire you.

Hugs and kisses.

Nº 95 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/260]
30 January 1884. Yasnaya Polyana.

At Bibikov’s I ran into Borisevich.²³⁹ He’s 89 years old, and he’s strong, fresh and agile as a young man. He talked incessantly and told me a lot of interesting things. Close to 12, Filip²⁴⁰ came for me and I went home. I read Kaliki perekhozhie²⁴¹ [Wandering minstrels], poems. I was led to read these by my ideas for a folk drama.²⁴² I’m contemplating this with great pleasure. And, as always, it is continuing to grow and, most importantly, deepen, and is starting to become a very serious [project] for me. I spent all afternoon at home from 12 to 10 [p.m.], except for taking a two-hour walk, and even though I didn’t have gas poisoning, I’m still afraid of carbon monoxide, and now I’ve opened the pipe and I myself will take a ride over to Kozlovka. At the moment you’re probably getting ready to go to the ball. I feel very sorry for both you and Tanja.

Today Vlas²⁴³ was saying that a boy came to the door begging. I said: “Tell him to come here.” A lad came in a little taller than Andrjusha, with a bag over his shoulder. “Where are you from?” [I asked.] “From the other side of the Zaseka” [he replied]. — “Who sent you?” — “No one. I’m alone.” — “What does your father do?” — “He’s abandoned us. When Mama died, he left and never came back.” And the boy started to cry. He has three others left, younger than he. A landlady took the children. “She feeds the poor,” he said. — I offered the boy some tea. He drank it up, turned the glass over, put a tiny bit of sugar on top and thanked me.²⁴⁴ He didn’t want anything more to drink. I was going to give him something more to eat, but Vlas said they had given him something to eat in the office. But then he started to cry and didn’t eat anything more. — His voice was hoarse, and he smelt like a muzhik. — Everything he told me about his father, his uncles and those he came in contact with — all that is a tale of poor, drunken and cruel people. Only the landlady was kind. There are so many boys, women, old men and women like him that I see here, and I love to see them. — Agaf’ja Mikhajlovna is very grateful to Mme Seuron, to whom she sends her respects. Mar’ja Afanas’evna [a retired nanny] was here. She seems to be kinder to us, and sends her regards to everyone, especially Masha. I hope that [Masha’s] throat condition has passed. I am talking with Vlas about books [aimed at common people]. We’ll have to start a library for muzhiks.

On the envelope: Moscow. Khamovniki. Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya. Private house.

Nº 96 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 106]
31 [January 1884]. Tuesday. [Moscow]

Your letter today²⁴⁵ is a whole story — idealised, as always, but still interesting and touching. I feel a bit as though you’re rebuking me and drawing a deliberate contrast between the poverty of the people and the mindless luxury of the balls we’ve been attending.

And these balls have left my head so empty; I’m so tired that I’ve been cranky the whole day.

In any event, I got up and gave Andrjusha a lesson; I am constantly trying to develop him, and he is very compliant in this. Then I did some sewing. I kept my eye on Lëlja the whole day and followed his lessons, since Madame [Seuron] has been off somewhere since this morning. Il’ja entered Malysh in a dog-show and is terribly cheerful; Serëzha’s gone to the [university] canteen today where there’s a big gathering of students. They have a story: they planned to organise a student ball at the Bolshoi Theatre. The authorities were willing to permit it if the rector vouched for the students. The rector did so. But a couple of second-year medical students went to the rector on their own, without the knowledge of students from other courses and departments, [telling him] they, the students, didn’t want any authorities attending the ball. The rector²⁴⁶ said: “In that case I cannot allow the ball, since I can’t take on the responsibility.” The students attacked the ‘medics’, and today they were summoned to the canteen to explain themselves. If only this doesn’t result in a fight or any unpleasantries; I’m anxious about Serëzha, he hasn’t come home yet.

Marakuev finally brought two copies²⁴⁷ and Serëzha, Tanja and Uncle Kostja have started reading. I haven’t yet heard anything about censorship, beyond what I wrote you [earlier].

The Samara estate manager sent me 2,500 silver roubles, but there’s no indication what sale they’re from; he doesn’t write anything [about it], but he does promise to find out about the Gavrilovka payment.²⁴⁸ Now we could pay off [the mortgage] on the [Arnautov] house,²⁴⁹ but I forgot all about what you explained to me. Besides, driving foolishly in the morning over bumpy roads has become unbearably painful [for me, on account of my pregnancy];²⁵⁰ I get a new pain on the right side of my stomach with every trip in the sleigh.

Masha got up this morning, she’s healthy. The little ones are well, too. I’m waiting word from you on the sale of the horse. The purchaser hasn’t been around since Sunday.

At the ball yesterday Dolgorukov²⁵¹ was more courteous than ever. He asked for a chair and sat down beside me, talked for a whole hour, as though he’d deliberately planned on showing me special attention, which even gave me cause for some embarrassment. He kept showing Tanja, too, a plethora of kindnesses. — But for some reason we didn’t enjoy last night all that much; we were probably too tired.

It looks as though you will be staying at Yasnaya for quite a while. My only worry is that your diet and the [room] temperature are not being watched sufficiently, and you are not able to [properly] care for yourself. But you should realise that if you get sick, you will cause others much more trouble and grief than if you [simply] bought yourself white bread, chicken and some good bouillon.

Life here will be quieter from now on; there’s nothing happening until the play at the Obolenskijs’ on the 12th.²⁵² Tanja’s getting ready to attend school, and I’m going to be working some more with the children. That rascal Lëlja is the most difficult. At this age the boys should be in the care of their father or school. It’s torture [working] with them for us women, and we still don’t [see] any results from our efforts. He’s becoming lazier and lazier and extremely impudent; he doesn’t obey anyone and has no fear.

Yesterday at the ball Sollogub²⁵³ said that he had finished decorating the first set for the play, for the first act; he asked after you, and about your attitude [towards staging the play], whether you’re serious or not.

Farewell for now; I am writing — and receiving — letters every day and have got so carried away with this that I’d be very distressed if I didn’t receive [at least] one.

Nº 97 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/266]
5 February 1884. Yasnaya Polyana.

Sunday evening.

I didn’t receive any letter today, and that was not pleasant. Besides, I got up this morning with a bad headache. After coffee I went for a walk and got very tired, but that hasn’t passed completely. While out walking I dropped in to see Osip Naumovich.²⁵⁴ The old fellow is in a pitiful situation, not on account of old age or poverty, but because he doesn’t get along with his son. Pëtr Osipovich [his son] is very interesting in connection with the reading [habits] of everyday people. Almost the whole winter long literate muzhiks gather at his place and read. He brought me his library — a [whole] box of books — including Lives of saints, catechisms, [copies of] Rodnoe slovo,²⁵⁵ history and geography books, Russkij vestnik, and Galakhov’s²⁵⁶ anthology, not to mention novels. He gave me his opinion about every sort of book. And this was of tremendous interest to me and made me give a lot of thought once more to [establishing a publishing house] for literature for the common people.²⁵⁷ I found Urusov at home. We had dinner, and since we were reading Montaigne aloud, we had little [time for] idle chat. In the evening Agaf’ja Mikhajlovna²⁵⁸ came and a [congratulatory] telegram for her arrived. She’s very happy. Urusov’s gone now, and I shall go to bed. Tomorrow I’ll pull myself together — that is, I shall remember and do what’s needed, and the day after tomorrow I shall come on the express train. If there were any doubt [as to the depth of my feeling for you, my sadness at] not receiving a letter [from you] today has dissolved it. I hope to find you all safe and sound and look forward to our getting together. Hold off on the business with the bank²⁵⁹ and the coachman until I come.

Hugs and kisses to you and the children.

On the envelope: Moscow. Khamovniki. Countess Sofia Andreevna Tolstaya. Private house.

Nº 98 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 109]
5 February [1884]. Sunday. [Moscow]

I’ve written three letters to you, dear Lëvochka, but I’ll probably send only the third one. Just now I received your letter,²⁶⁰ a little longer than the preceding ones. What’s this with your thumb? If you make a movement, that doesn’t mean a dislocation, but that a tendon is stretched out of shape. My back pain is almost gone — it’s only just a little painful when I move or touch [my back]. Of course I’m glad that you want to return on Tuesday, only I’m afraid that the Maslenitsa holiday²⁶¹ will make your head spin more than a whole month of ordinary days. Stay [a little longer] if you like; maybe I won’t be entirely run off my feet without you; it will be better than seeing you depressed, discontent and still inactive. I can’t boast about my own spirits. Nothing is easy, nothing’s cheerful, nothing’s [turning out] the way I expected it to; and physically I feel weak, my heart beats fearfully at the slightest movement, and I’m sleepy and frightfully lazy.

Today I finished La Boétie ²⁶² and read with interest about his death. You know, this is the way I would like to die, i e. in a state of mind like this, and it always seems to me that I would die well, peacefully. — I do not like life and do not value it. I shall never attain moral perfection — that much is clear to me. I am incapable of enjoying material pleasures, as the rational critic [in me] always appears much too severely and immediately drives me to despair. — That is why I do not like life.

Everybody’s healthy and of sound mind; Tanja keeps going off to rehearsals; Il’ja received a Certificate of Distinction for Malysh. Boris married Countess Miloradovich.²⁶³ I can just imagine how happy he is! Varja²⁶⁴ is feeling much better. Your brother Serëzha greatly disturbed me with his stories about you, [saying] you’ll never want to come back to us. Why [would you not want to return]? Farewell. This, I take it, will be my last letter. Hugs and kisses.

Sonja.

Nº 99 – LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA
[PSS 83/271]
21 October 1884. Yasnaya Polyana.

After seeing you all off, I went home on foot, since [the coachman] Filip was otherwise occupied. He caught up with me at Rudakovo Hill. When I got back, I moved into the boys’ room and made myself at home. My health is good. Avdot’ja Vasil’evna²⁶⁵ set me up according to your instructions and made me feel really comfortable. Dmitrij Fëdorovich [Vinogradov] sat in the next room and transcribed, while I did some reading.

Today I awoke and got up close to 8 [o’clock]. The day is even better and warmer than a few days ago. I dismissed Adrian,²⁶⁶ did some cleaning myself and then chopped wood, which gave me great pleasure. At 10 [o’clock] I had some coffee and offered tea to Marija Afanas’evna²⁶⁷ and Dmitrij Fëdorovich, and had a successful time reviewing and correcting Theology.²⁶⁸ I wanted to take up some other work, but I don’t feel up to that [at the moment]. I had dinner at 3 and went out to enjoy the beauty of the day. I walked through the Zakaz to the pine forest beyond the Kochak [a stream], past Bibikov’s garden in the direction of the church. There I dropped in to see Ivan Nikanorovich.²⁶⁹ A muzhik had asked me to put in a word so that the priest might reduce the 7-rouble fee he is charging for the wedding. The priest has [a family of] nine children, and he can’t ask any less. We had a friendly chat, and I made my way home in the moonlight. When I got home [I found] Anna Ivanovna ²⁷⁰ (who had been bitten by a wolf), with a boy [i.e. her son]. She had come to find out whether there were any news [about her petition]. I put on the samovar, and we had a chat. She told me a lot of interesting things about the detainees who are staying with her, including Rybin²⁷¹ who had been caught, and had passed by their place, and who was a hero in her eyes, and especially her son’s. Now I’m going to bed. I’ll just take this letter down. Yesterday’s news about the death of Pisarev²⁷² (is it true?) had a strong impression on me. I became terribly sad and depressed. The whole thickness of the wall separating people from truth became so clear to me.

While still under this impression I read reminiscences and descriptions of wars in Russkaja starina. How thickly people are blanketed by deception! You don’t see any possibility of destroying it. But I know that it’s a weakness. If it weren’t for this deception, there would be nothing to do in the world — at least for me. But it is always frightful when you see its whole thickness. One must not think about this, but destroy it insofar as one is able. And then comes joy. —

How was your trip? Have those cruel ladies softened and have you calmed down? And haven’t there been unpleasant impressions in Moscow, and if so, have you given into them? How are the boys? How is Ol’ga Zajkovskaja?²⁷³ Have you seen her again? I still feel guilty that in my haste I greeted her rather coldly. She has such a tortured face and I pity her.

Write me a few more details, more specifically, and don’t hurry. Hugs to you and all the children.

On the envelope: Moscow. Khamovniki. Count Tolstoy’s house. Countess S. A. Tolstaya.

Nº 100 – SOFIA ANDREEVNA TOLSTAYA LEV NIKOLAEVICH TOLSTOY
[LSA 111]
23 October 1884 [Moscow] [Preceded by SAT’S Nº 6U, October 1884]

Yesterday I received your first letter,²⁷⁴ and it saddened me. I see that you have been staying at Yasnaya not for the sake of your intellectual work which I prize above everything else in life, but for some sort of ‘Robinson Crusoe’ game. You dismissed Adrian, who longed to stay to the end of the month; you dismissed the cook, who would have been happy to do some work in exchange for a stipend, and from morning to night you engage in inappropriate physical labour which in ordinary life is done by young [peasant] men and women. Really, it would be better and more productive [for you] to live with the children. Of course you will say that this kind of life is in accord with your convictions, and that you are feeling so good [about it]. Well, that’s another matter, and I can only say ‘“Enjoy!” — and still be upset that such intellectual forces are wasted in chopping wood, putting on the samovar and sewing boots — which are all very fine as a relaxation and a change of pace, but not [at least for you] as professional activities in themselves. — Well, enough of that. If I hadn’t written it down, I would continue to feel vexed, but now that’s passed: I even find it funny, and I find peace in the thought: “[Give] the child what he likes, just so long as he doesn’t cry!”

Yesterday I was at the Obolenskijs,²⁷⁵ it was Liza’s name-day. There were guests and relatives; everything went as usual; [we had] a late supper. I was tired, but upon my return I found a note to me from Lëlja, asking [me] to correct his Russian essay; I was glad to do it, but that meant I didn’t get to bed until 3 o’clock. After 8 in the morning the children don’t let me sleep, but I’m used to it, and only feel [somewhat] distracted. — Our belongings arrived, we unpacked them, then Masha and I walked over to the Smolenskij market and bought a table, a commode for Masha and a few other necessities. Tomorrow I’ll go see Chizh,²⁷⁶ [as] my health is still not completely good. I don’t have any life yet, there’s still far too much disorder, and since I’m not feeling well, I don’t hurry and I’m very slow at clearing away clutter.

Yesterday I had a minor confrontation with Lëlja. On the morning of our arrival he didn’t go to the gymnasium, telling Vlas²⁷⁷ the night before that he might not go. Then he told Madame [Seuron] that his stomach hurt. She didn’t believe him and didn’t sign his [student record] book. Then he asked me, and I told him that I couldn’t lie [either] — I didn’t know whether his stomach had been hurting while I was at Yasnaya. Lëlja began to insist, trying to persuade me, but I didn’t give in. That’s how it ended. For the second day in a row Serëzha simply disappeared from the morning on; he said he was in the laboratory. Il’ja has been very dear and has a fresh look. Masha has become quite conscientious and is getting ready to approach her studies in earnest. All her previous teachers have come and [said how] shocked they were at how much she forgets [of what she learns]. The little ones are noisy and bothersome, since we have not yet got our lives together; only Sasha²⁷⁸ smiles meekly and cheerfully and you never hear a peep out of her; and when you do, you only feel pity [for her]. She hasn’t been out for a walk today; they let her catch cold and she has the sniffles really bad.

Just now I received your second letter,²⁷⁹ and it’s a good one. I blamed you for being too caught up in physical labour, and now you’ve done just the opposite — you’re too busy intellectually. The main thing, my dear friend, is to take care of yourself in every respect. There’s only one way to make me happy, and that’s for you to be happy, healthy and without a sense of pressure. With that in mind, I am constantly racking my brains as to how to arrange our lives so that you can bear living in Moscow as easily as possible. I probably shan’t succeed, but how I desire that!

As far as [household] affairs go, what can I say? — you know all about that [already]. We have 3,300 silver roubles in the bank; I have 700, which are diminishing not by the day, but by the hour in Moscow. Apples here fetch 250 silver roubles. As I see it, until all the Samara debts owed to us are paid — Bibikov, the peasants and Uncle Serëzha — until then, we shouldn’t take on any new ventures, or we risk being left without any money at all. If Bibikov pays us the money [he owes], we should spend it on the factory²⁸⁰ — that’s not income, but capital [in the form of] buildings, hence let it be invested again in construction. I have just one piece of advice, namely, to be sure to send Ivan Ivanovich [Orlov] to Samara and he will either demand the money [on our behalf] or re-sell the land and find out what we can expect in January. Or what guarantee is there of receiving the money in January if it hasn’t been received up to now?

As to Mitrofan,²⁸¹ I don’t think that’s our problem. If you hire someone else, what makes you think that he won’t seduce ten other men’s wives? The question is whether he does his job well and not who lives with whom; nobody can vouch for anyone in the world in that regard. You shouldn’t change foremen on the basis of their relationships with women.

You asked me to write everything in more detail; but as I am writing you this letter I’m being interrupted a dozen times, and not only can I not concentrate, but I simply can’t finish [the letter] — not because of my own bustling, but on account of all the bustle around me.

As to [Uncle] Kosten’ka, I haven’t heard anything. Mashen’ka’s²⁸² in very good spirits. Serëzha²⁸³ arrived yesterday at dinner time; then came Sergej Semënovich Urusov and Uncle Serëzha was very unpleasant; again [it was about] Katkov.²⁸⁴ [Uncle Serëzha] kept cursing our Serëzha terribly on account of the student protest simply because Serëzha is a student. [Uncle Serëzha] wouldn’t listen to anybody telling him that Serëzha himself knew nothing about the protest. You’ve come in for your share of the blame, too.

We also talked with Urusov concerning your question about astronomy. But he just gave a hearty guffaw and looked at Tanja with oily eyes. But he is a kind-hearted soul and gentle with everyone, and pleasant in this matter, too.

Farewell, dear friend, hugs and kisses to you; I’ve just had a clear picture of you in my mind and suddenly I’m full of tenderness towards you. There’s something in you that is so intelligent, kind, naïve and persistent, and everything is illumined by your unique tender compassion for everyone and your penetrating insight into people’s souls.

Sonja.