1 January [Petersburg]. Slept badly all night. I’ve heard too much music these last few days. Woke up after 11; received a dry but nice letter from Turgenev. Wrote a letter to Valeriya, short and dry, and one to Nekrasov which I was advised not to send. Translated a fairy tale by Andersen.1 Read it over dinner at Botkin’s, but they didn’t like it. Botkin had received a letter from Nekrasov in which he spoke of me in flattering tones. We had a pleasant chat. I went to Olga Turgeneva’s and stayed with her till after 11. I liked her better than ever. Could hardly restrain myself from going to a masquerade.
2 January Got up late, went to gymnastics, and from there to Botkin’s for dinner; then, with Annenkov, to Druzhinin’s, where we wrote a draft charter for the Fund.2 In the morning I read Belinsky,3 and I’m beginning to like him. A terrible headache.
3 January Got up very late, read a delightful article about Pushkin, and went to see Bludova and Shevich; the former was out, and the latter has practically refused to take part in the theatrical performance.4 Gymnastics. Dinner at Botkin’s. From there to Tolstoy’s.5 He has a sweet, rather shallow, childishly poetic nature. From there to Krayevsky’s before 10, and to the masquerade before 12. At first it was very dull, then at supper with Stolypin and Stakhovich a sweet mouth approached me. I solicited it for a long time; it drove off with me, agreed reluctantly and took off its mask at my house. As like Alexandrine Dyakova as two peas, only older and with coarser features. I took her back home, and all night and the next day felt my old happiness again.
4 January Got up after 1. The article on Pushkin6 is wonderful. Only now have I understood Pushkin. Gymnastics. Dined at Botkin’s just with Panayev. He read Pushkin to me, I went into Botkin’s room, wrote a letter there to Turgenev, and then sat down on the sofa and wept groundless, but blissful, poetic tears. I’ve been decidedly happy all this time. I’m intoxicated by the speed of my moral progress forward. Went to Druzhinin’s and Pisemsky’s in the evening, and contrary to expectations spent it pleasantly; his wife must be a splendid woman.
7 January […] Kiesewetter’s story7 greatly attracts me.
8 January People will remember my words that in two years’ time the peasants will rise in revolt unless they are sensibly emancipated before then. Woke up; beautiful weather; the first person I met was Kiesewetter. After gymnastics I went round to see Albrecht and fetch a violin. Found Druzhinin in a fume; no one else came to dinner. It’s surprising that I feel uncomfortable when I’m alone with him. Kieswewetter came. He’s clever, brilliant and sensible. He’s a brilliant ‘eccentric’ (yurodivy). […]
10 January Gymnastics. Received my passport and decided to go.8 […]
12 January, en route for Moscow […] Three poets. (1) Zhemchuzhnikov – power of expression, few sparks, draws on others. (2) Kiesewetter – fire and no power. (3) The artist – values both, and says that he’s burnt out.9 […]
Must write every day, without interruption: (1) The Hunting Ground, (2) Second half of Youth, (3) The Fugitive, (4) The Cossack, (5) The Lost One, (6) A Woman’s Story – ‘Nuts for the squirrel when it has no teeth’. She loves and feels she has the right to, just when she has too little left to give.10 (7) The comedy A Practical Person; a George Sand woman11 and a Hamlet of our times, a clamouring, sick protest against everything; but lack of character.
15, 16, 17, 18 January Can’t remember what happened each day. Oppressed by loneliness, idleness and the absence of women. […]
20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25 January A reading at S. T. Aksakov’s. His Childhood is delightful!12 A ball at the Naryshkins’, danced two quadrilles, was bored. A ball at the Voyeykovs’. Muromtseva is consumptive – enjoyed myself. Ostrovsky’s A Lucrative Post13 is his best work and satisfies the need to portray the world of bribery. But his vanity is impossible. Mengden14 is a remarkable woman. Evening at the Sushkovs’. Tyutcheva15 is nice.
29 January, en route16 Morning at home, called on the Aksakovs and [indecipherable], dinner at Chevalier’s. Set off, horrible seats, some Frenchmen and a Pole travelling with me. I’m not quite independent yet, but I’ve thought a lot about The Lost One. […]
3 February Indigestion,17 cold, boredom, moral fatigue. I think The Lost One is quite ready. Remembered my shameful irresolution in the matter of the papers for Herzen, which Kasatkin brought me as instructed in a letter from Kolbasin.18 I told Chicherin19 about it, and he seemed to despise me. I want to write a letter to Mlle Vergani to prove that the fault, si fault il y a, is not mine, and very much want to write to Mengden. She’s charming. What joyful relations we could have. Why don’t I feel such pleasure with my sister? Perhaps the whole charm consists of standing on the threshold of love.
9/21 February, Paris All this time on the journey. Confusion in my head and in my notes. Arrived in Paris today.20 I’m alone, without a servant, doing everything myself; a new city, a new way of life, no ties, and the spring sunshine which I caught the feel of. Undoubtedly a new era. Regular habits and above all at least four hours’ solitude and work each day. Couldn’t get on with Turgenev and Nekrasov. I’ve spent a lot of money and seen absolutely nothing. […] Turgenev is suspicious and painfully weak. Nekrasov is gloomy.
10/22 February Got up late, a noise in my ears all the time, cold in the rooms; but wrote three letters, though short ones, then went for a stroll. Turgenev and Nekrasov went off to a shooting gallery for some reason. It made me feel sad. I detached myself from them and wandered about alone, but wasn’t bored and found a flat – 206!21 Strange. Had dinner with them and was still sad; saw Nekrasov off. Turgenev is a child. Then Orlov22 took me to the theatre, playing the aristocrat. Absurd! Why did I go up to Gorchakov? I’m terribly loathsome. Came home tired and empty.
11/23 February Got up late, dawdled a long time at home tidying up, went to the bank, drew out 800 francs, made some purchases and moved my quarters.23 Called on the Lvovs; she’s nice – a Russian.24 Read Napoleon’s speech25 with indescribable revulsion. Made a start on the journey26 at home and had dinner. A lively woman; I was struck dumb with confusion. The theatre. Précieuses ridicules and L’Avare27 – excellent. Vers de Vergile28 – an intolerable abomination.
12/24 February […] The theatre. Marivaux’s Les fausses confidences – a delightful piece of elegance. Plessy.29 Le malade imaginaire30 – delightfully acted.
16/28 February Got up at 10; I’m sleeping better. My English teacher arrived at once.31 Lessons with him are going badly. I’ll get rid of him. Then Orlov came; read Honorine;32 an immense talent. Went to the Sorbonne.33 Superficial. Witticisms about Pliny. Went for a walk. Dined at home. Fitz James nothing special, but the Spanish countess is delightful. […]
19 February/3 March Morning at home till 2. Received a letter from Valeriya. Visited Gamier – a philosopher and follower of Descartes. Roamed around till 5. Dined at home. A disgusting Englishman. Went to a concert with Turgenev: a delightful trio,34 and Viardot.35 Delsarte.36 Picked up … on the streets. It’s sad at Turgenev’s.
22 February/6 March Got up late. Went to the Collège de France. Baudrillard.37 Simple and precise. Franck38 – remarkable intelligence and conscientiousness, but incomprehensible religiosity. […]
23 February/7 March My Italian teacher. Late for Rigault.39 Hôtel de Cluny – interesting;40 I’ve started believing in chivalry. Dined with Turgenev upstairs at Durand’s. Went to the Khlyustins – spiteful people. Roamed around. An accosteuse.41 I ruined my evening and felt morally agitated and tormented.
24 February/8 March Turgenev called in the morning and I went for a drive with him. He’s kind, and terribly weak. Fontainebleau château. The forest. In the evening I wrote too impetuously.42 When I’m with him I keep an eye on myself. It’s good for me. Although it’s a bit hurtful to feel someone else’s sharp gaze always on one, one’s own becomes more effective.
25 February/9 March, Paris—Dijon Slept badly. We set off at 8;43 played chess on the journey. Turgenev doesn’t believe in anything, that’s his trouble; he doesn’t love, but loves to love. Went to the baths – disgusting. In spite of these comforts, there are heaps of privations of a sort for the likes of us Russians. Dined at a café. Wrote both badly and well. Rather the former – too impetuously and carelessly.
26 February/10 March, Dijon Slept splendidly. In the morning I wrote a wonderful chapter. Went round the churches with Turgenev. Had dinner. Played chess at a café. Turgenev’s vanity, as the normal habit of an intelligent man, is nice. At dinner I told him something he didn’t suspect, that I consider him to be my superior. […]
1/13March Got up late. Turgenev is a bore: I want to go to Paris, but he can’t be alone. Alas! He’s never loved anyone. Read The Lost One to him. It left him cold. We almost quarrelled. Did nothing all day.
2/14 March, Dijon to Paris Went to Paris. Railways a disaster. Dinner. Mme Fitz James. Calves. Trubetskaya. ‘Nothing, nothing, silence.’ Stupid ball. Unclothed wenches. […]
3/15 March Got up at 1. Went to the Louvre with de M. Rembrandt’s portrait and Murillo. Dined at home, then La fille du regiment,44 dancing and champagne alone.
4/16 March Got up late. Went to the Hôtel des Invalides. Deification of a villain, it’s terrible. Soldiers – animals trained to bite everyone. They ought to starve to death. Legs torn off – serve them right. Notre dame. Dijon is better. Fontainebleau. Terribly sad. Spent a pile of money. Late for dinner with the Trubetskoys. I’ve stopped liking the princess. Home succeeded and then failed.45 I must try myself. Called on Turgenev. He’s a bad man in that he’s cold and useless, but he’s very clever artistically and does nobody any harm. Received a telegram from Seryozha and replied. Terribly sad. Activity is the only remedy.
5/17 March […] Dined at home. Fitz James is a bore. Fortunately I saw The Barber of Seville instead of Rigoletto. Wonderful. Called on Turgenev. No, I must avoid him. I’ve paid tribute enough to his merits and run after him from all directions in order to be friends with him, but it’s impossible.
6/18 March Got up at 1. Got dressed, went to the Stock Exchange, and did some shopping. The Stock Exchange is terrible. Had dinner; disgusted by a fellow-countryman of mine at home. Went to the Bouffes-Parisiens.46 Something truly French. It was funny. The comedy is so good-natured and spontaneous that it can get away with anything. Roamed the streets for an hour with evil thoughts. […]
7/19 March Last night I was tormented by sudden doubts about everything. And now, although they don’t torment me, they are still with me. Why? And what am I? More than once it seemed to me that I was solving these questions, but no, my life has provided me with no confirmation of that. Got up earlier, worked hard at Italian. Went for a walk to the Colonne Vendôme and along the boulevards. Turgenev called at 5, and seemed to look guilty. What can I do? I respect, value and even love him, I suppose, but I feel no sympathy for him and that’s mutual. Mme Fitz James perspires, and is a dreadful flirt. Aux Variétés! Le quadrille des Lanciers47 – delightful! […]
10/22March My brother48 and Obolensky arrived. […]
12/24 March Got up late. Went to the Louvre and the Cour d’assises. Dined with Lvova and argued impudently. From there to the Café des Aveugles, Rigoletto and home.
13/25March Went riding with Seryozha, had dinner with the Trubetskoys. It was easy for me, but difficult for him. To Turgenev’s, then to a ball. With Margarita to her place. […]
15/27 March Got up late. Went to Versailles. Feel my lack of knowledge. […] Went to the Folies Nouvelles49 – loathsome. Diable d’argent50 – likewise. The Emperor escorted by hussars. At Turgenev’s. […] Went to see Père-Lachaise.51
20 March/1 April […] Dined with Seryozha and saw him off. Impossible muddle and helplessness. Our development is so different that we can’t live together, although I’m very fond of him. Went to a concert. The Olsufyevs, husband and wife, seem to feel the impression they’ve made on me. The Largo was delightful. Set off home, cheerful and at peace. A woman disturbed me. I went to her place, but remained flrm. The debauchery is terrible!
22 March/3 April […] Turgenev woke me. It seems he probably has spermatorrhoea, but he still won’t have treatment and gads about. […]
23 March/4 April Got up at 12. Began writing in a rather lazy fashion. Read Balzac.52 Bricon was admitted; I went out to escape from him and returned at 5. Read Myrrha53 in Italian, and had dinner upstairs. Went to see Ristori54 – a single poetic movement makes up for the falseness of five acts. The drama of Racine and the like is Europe’s poetic wound. Thank God we haven’t got it and won’t have. […]
25 March/6 April Got up at 7 feeling ill and went to see an execution.55 A stout, white, strong neck and chest. He kissed the Gospels and then – death. How senseless! The impression it made was a strong one and not wasted on me. I’m not a political person. Morality and art. I know, I love and I can. Feel unwell and depressed; I’m going to dinner at the Trubetskoys’. Wrote a stupid letter to Botkin. […] Went to Turgenev’s. He doesn’t talk any more, he only chatters; he doesn’t believe in intelligence, or in people, or in anything. But I found it pleasant. The guillotine kept me awake a long time and made me reflect.
26 March/7 April Got up late, felt unwell, read, and suddenly a simple and sensible idea occurred to me – to leave Paris.56 […] I called in for a moment at Turgenev’s. He went to Viardot’s and I to the Lvovs’. The Princess was there. I like her very much, and I think I’m a fool not to try to marry her. If she were to marry a very good man and they were very happy, I might be driven to despair.
27 March/8 April, Paris – Ambérieu57 Got up at 8 and called on Turgenev. Both times, when saying goodbye to him, I’ve cried about something as I left him. I like him very much. He has made, and is continuing to make a different man of me. Set off at 11. It was dull on the train. But when I transferred to the stage-coach at night a full moon shone on the seats. Everything stood out and was suffused with love and joy. For the first time in a long while I sincerely thanked God again that I was alive.
29 March/10 April, Geneva Woke up early, felt well and almost cheerful except for the vile weather. Went to church, found no service on, was too late to prepare for communion, did some shopping and went to the Tolstoys’. Alexandrine Tolstaya had become very religious, as they all have, I think. Le Bocage – delightful. Read Cousine Bette all day, but behaved in an orderly manner. Noted down five headings.58 At twenty-eight I’m still a silly little boy.
31 March/12 April Read the Gospels, went to the baths, caught cold. The Tolstoys carried me off to their house. I abused Totleben – that’s bad!59 Read Balzac. Alexandrine has a wonderful smile. […]
3/15 April Got up late – the baths. Read the foreword60 to the Comédie Humaine there: trivial and presumptuous. Read a bit of the history of the revolution and Émile Girardin’s Liberté61 – shallow, though honest. […] Good, but doesn’t lead anywhere. Wrote a little. Thought a lot. Must do three things: (1) educate myself, (2) work at poetry and (3) do good. And must check on these three things every day.
5/17 April I think I’ve finally thought out The Fugitive. Went to the doctor’s, ordered some things. The baths. The holy shroud. Mariya is well built. Read Liberté. Went to confession. A good thing in any case. Received a letter from Auntie.
6/18 April Woke up at 9. Took communion. Read Liberté at home, and Balzac and a newspaper at the baths. […] Read the history and constitution of Switzerland. Went out in a boat. I think The Fugitive is quite ready. I’ll get down to it tomorrow. If I fall asleep, I won’t go to church.
7/19 April Slept badly, as though afraid of being late somewhere. At 9 went to the baths, and at home read a history of France. Went to hear a sermon by Martin. Clever, but dreadfully cold. Wrote an outline.62 Dined hurriedly and went with the Pushchins63 to the Tolstoys’. Twice met Mariya. Not bad-looking, but super ciliously polite. The Pushchins are delightfully good-natured. Meshchersky64 may be of use to me, I’ll go and see him. Was a terrible democrat – to no purpose. Flirted with an Englishwoman – also to no purpose.
8/20 April Got up early. Baths. Read La Dame aux perles.65 He’s talented, but the ground he tills is dreadful. Balzac’s depravity is like a flower garden by comparison. Church. Felt cheerful. […]
18/30 April Got up early, went for a walk, read about the disgusting behaviour of the English towards China66 and argued about it with an elderly Englishman. Wrote a bit of The Cossack as poetry, which seemed better to me; I don’t know which to choose. Read a history of the revolution67 all day.
19 April/1 May Got up at 8. My eye is bothering me very much. The doctor came. Read Tocqueville’s history of the revolution all day. […]
20 April/2 May My eye still aches. Read Sarrut’s68 history and the Idées Napoléoniennes69 all day; didn’t touch a pen. […]
22 April/4 May Got up at 9, wrote a little note to Annenkov, roamed about and didn’t even read. The Englishwoman Dora – ‘nothing, nothing, silence’! Her neck, her arm, her laugh! Walked to Montreux, met Galakhova, also ‘nothing’, Spring. My eye is better. […]
23 April/5 May Got up late. Did literally nothing all day. In the morning I walked to Montreux and to the baths. A charming, blue-eyed Swiss girl. Wrote a reply to a letter I received from Turgenev. The English are a morally naked people and go about like that without any shame. […]
25 April/7 May Wrote a little of The Deranged One70 from the beginning again. At the baths the Galakhov girls tormented me. It’s so dirty there, the soap has no effect. […]
29 April/11 May, Geneva. To the doctor’s. A vulgar raisonneur. To the Tolstoys’, in a cheerful mood, went with them to Salève. Very enjoyable. I’m so ready to fall in love, it’s terrible. If only Alexandrine were ten years younger! A wonderful nature. […]
6/18 May […] Princess Meshcherskaya is dangerous. I’m afraid I’m already to blame, and this feeling, together with the pleasure and awareness of the charm of a pretty young woman, kept me awake a long time.
12/24 May, Clarens Got up at 8, read Sarrut all day. A mass of thoughts, happy thoughts artistically, especially for the story about a Russian woman. Went to Zybina’s funeral in the evening. The prayers touched me. Love is suffocating me – both physical and ideal love. Mariya Yakovlevna71 is charming. I’m extremely interested in myself. I even love myself because there is so much love for others in me.
16/28 May, Les Avants – Gessenay Got up at 4. Set off via the Jaman pass. A pleasant walk, but the youngster72 gets on my nerves. Reached Allières, nice and comfortable. A primitive chalet. Montbovon; ‘Genevievka’ disturbed me. Roman Catholic poetry! Unpacked my books, but did no writing. A pain in my chest. Set off walking to Château D’Oex; given a lift by a chaste miller. A stony stream – you couldn’t tell the water from the stones. Drove to Gessenay. An angry dark-haired gentleman. An excessively rude office clerk.
17/29 May, Gessenay – Interlaken […] In a boat to Neuhaus. Delightful waterfalls, grottoes and castles. On foot to Interlaken; rye, milk, sweets. Health better. Drinking no wine.
18/30 May, Interlaken Unwell. Woke at 7. Walked to Böningen. Handsome people – the women especially. They begged for alms. Rain. Wrote a bit of The Cossack. Read about the Sevastopol campaign. The maid troubles me. Thank God for my bashfulness. Sasha bores me. Wrote a bit of The Demented One in the evening; went to the doctor’s. Wrote to Auntie yesterday.
20 May/1 June, Grindelwald. 2 June Went to the glacier with Boren, sent him to fetch my things, wrote a description of the journey, went to a second glacier. […] A terrible bill. Some English people arrived. Sensuality torments me terribly. Couldn’t sleep before midnight and paced up and down my room and the corridor. Walked along the balcony. The glaciers and black mountains in the moonlight. Pawed the downstairs maid, and the upstairs one too. She ran past several times and I thought she was waiting for me; everyone was in bed; she ran past again and gave me an angry look. I heard a noise downstairs; I’d roused the whole house; they took me for a malfaiteur. […]
23 May/4 June, Leissigen – Bern. 5 June Left Leissigen at 7. A stone-carter gave us a lift. A little inn; terrible extortion; another pretty girl. From Spiez to Thun on foot. Heimatlose [homeless people]. They were travelling with children and a dog, comfortably and in good spirits. A shoemaker with a sallow, sickly family. Gliedersucht [rheumatic pains]. Dinner in Thun with eighteen pastors. A pretty maid in the Pinten Wirtschaft. Reached Bern. Thought of writing to L. Karamzina73 – must get married, must have a corner of my own to live.
24 May/5 June, Bern – Clarens. 6 June Left Bern at 8. Flat country with rye fields and woods as far as Fribourg. A 30-year-old American; he’d been to Russia. Mormons in Utah. Jos Smith, their founder, was lynched to death. Prices the same in all the inns. Hunting of buffles [buffaloes] and cerfs [stags]. I’d like to go there. Abolitionists. Beecher Stowe. Reached Vevey. Invited him to join us, but he wouldn’t come. Finished the journey on foot, sad and empty. Began a letter to L. Karamzina, but didn’t finish it.
26 May/7 June, Clarens Got up at 8, have a sore lip. In the morning I wrote a splendid diary of my journey.74 […]
27 May/8 June Got up at 8, felt unwell. Wrote one sheet of The Demented One and letters to Nekrasov and Karamzina. I bathe twice a day and go rowing. Received letters from Turgenev, Nekrasov, Botkin and Druzhinin. Some neat and tidy, sniffling Englishwomen have arrived.
30 May/11 June Broke a mirror. This omen was the last straw! I was weak enough to try guessing my fortune in a dictionary. Came up with the words soles, water, catarrh and grave. Read The Neighbours75 all morning. Poor as a work of art, but plenty of nice, sympathetic talent and poetry. […]
31 May/12 June, Clarens – Geneva. Went up to Blonay in the morning. Delightful. A quite modern oval fountain and magnificent old terraces, splintered chestnut trees and decaying stalls. Left for Geneva. […]
1/13 June, Geneva – Chambery. […] Set off at 6 for Chambery with a Savoyard, a playful, gentle stalwart Frenchman with a dog.
2/14 June, Chambery – Lans-le-Bourg. Slept till 12. By train and on to Lans-le-Bourg with a drunken Piedmontese and a red-haired conductor with big eyes and a sardonic smile. Wanted to paw the woman next to me,76 but was too hesitant to succeed.
4/16 June, Turin. Overslept and missed Genoa. Went to two museums – arms and statues – and to the Chamber of Deputies. We all77 had a splendid dinner together. Went for a walk. I dragged them all to a brothel and left. Druzhinin stayed. Went to a concert to hear the Ferni sisters. The best Sardinian society was there. Had a pleasant chat with Druzhinin and went to bed late. Botkin has a silent hatred of Druzhinin.
5/17 June, Turin – Saint Martin. Woke up early, had a bathe, dropped in at the Athenaeum. I feel envious of this young, vigorous, free life. We went to a café. One could live, and live well, anywhere here. […]
7/19 June, Gressoney. Couldn’t sleep before 12. Terrible agitation. Rain; we didn’t go out. Offered someone five francs, but apparently she wasn’t a whore. An ugly creature, but I wanted her very much. Wrote a couple of sheets of The Cossack. Read the enchanting Goethe’s Meeting and parting.78 […]
8/20 June, Gressoney – Chambave. Left at 6. Ascent to the chapel. Meeting with a handsome singer. View of the Aosta valley and the mountain range. Descent; fragrance. Meeting with a godfather and godmother. Fragrance of rye, nectar, grass and warm dung. Brusson. A second ascent. A poor woman begging. Gave her half a franc. La! A pine forest; alone by a stream. A second view of the Aosta valley. Chestnut trees and nuts. A hollow basin with vineyards. St Vincent, a pretty tobacco worker, the waters, a casino. We travelled like gentlemen. On foot to Chambave. Ruins.
11/23 June, Evionnaz – Clarens. Got up at 7. Coffee made of boot polish. Waitress cried because I complained about the coffee. Went by stage-coach to Villeneuve with a sociable consumptive précepteur [tutor] and a portly man recruiting soldiers for Naples. Talked about what use the Swiss are in Naples. Had a long trip in a boat and came back tired out. Went by boat to Chillon. Tea at the Hôtel Byron. Good, but not complete without women. Got back late and slept well.
15/27 June Got up at 9, still unwell; haemorrhoids. Mustn’t drink wine and must keep all the time to a diet that isn’t too hot. Made some cigarettes and had a pleasant chat with Druzhinin. Wrote a bit of The Lost One. Slept after dinner, then went to Villeneuve and the Hôtel Byron. A freckled beauty. I want a woman terribly. A pretty one.
18/30 June, Clarens – Geneva. […] Despite a headache I went for a walk. A pathetic creature. Comme si vous faisiez la chanté, je vous jure, je vous promets [it’s just as if you were to give alms, I swear to you, I promise you], and I, beast that I am …!
22 June/4 July, Geneva – Bern. Woke up at 9, hurried to the steamer. A crowd, the like of which I’ve never seen before. A young, curly-headed Swiss lad – spoke pure French, told lies, mixed things up, but all fluently. Rousseau was a Freemason. Different types: (1) angular Germans with broad cheek-bones and brooches on the side of their shirt-fronts; (2) slender Parisian Frenchmen; (3) stout, stalwart Swiss. The railway journey. Shouts, garlands and welcomes for the travelling lords and masters – the people. Dinner with a courier. A travelling school of girls and boys with a ruddy, perspiring, high cheek-boned master. Frenchmen in another carriage, wanting to faire la noce [have a good time] everywhere. An enchanting moonlight night; the drunken shouts, the crowd and the dust didn’t spoil the charm; a valley, moist and bright in the moonlight; I could hear the sounds of corn-crakes and frogs from there, and something seemed to draw me in that direction. But if I should go, I would be drawn further afield again. It’s not with pleasure that my soul responds to the beauty of nature, but with a kind of sweet pain. It was nice as far as Bern; the people in the carriage were asleep; I looked out of the window and was in that happy frame of mind in which I know I can be no better. Found an apartment in the Couronne.79 The entry of riflemen to the sound of music made me sad.
25 June/7 July, Lucerne Woke up at 9 and walked to a pension and the lion monument. At home I opened my notebook, but couldn’t write anything. I’ve abandoned The Hunting Ground. A stupid and boring dinner. Went to a privathaus. On my way back from there at night – it was overcast with the moon breaking through – I heard some wonderful voices, two bell-towers in a broad street, and a little man singing Tyrolean songs to a guitar – it was splendid. I gave him something and invited him to sing in front of the Schweizerhof – it was no use, he went away shamefacedly, muttering something to himself, and the crowd followed him and laughed. Previously, however, there had even been a crowd of people on the balcony, listening in silence. I overtook him and invited him to the Schweizerhof for a drink. We were taken into another room. The singer was a commonplace, but pathetic person. We drank, the waiter laughed and the porter sat down. This exasperated me – I swore at them and got terribly agitated.80 The night was wonderful. What do I want, what do I passionately desire? I don’t know – only not the good things of this world. And how can one not believe in the immortality of the soul when one feels in one’s own soul such immeasurable grandeur? I looked out of the window. Darkness, broken clouds and light. I could happily die!
My God! My God! What am I? Where am I going? And where am I now?
27 July/9 July Got up early and feel fine. Had a bathe. I’m more than pleased with my new apartment; got on with Lucerne and wrote a letter to Botkin before dinner. Got Freytag’s Soll und Haben and Andersen’s Improvisatore and read them,81 went out in a boat and walked to a monastery. I’m terribly shy in the pension; there are a lot of pretty women. I sat with a German. A crafty tradesman who had given his children a better education than he had had himself. A deaf old man, and a pathetic story of a daughter seduced.
28 June/10 July […] Finished reading Freytag. Poor. There can be no poetry in methodicalness.
29 June/11 July, Lucerne – Sarnen Got up at 7 and had a bathe. Got on with Lucerne till dinner. It’s good. One must be bold, otherwise one can’t say anything except what is graceful, and I’ve a lot to say that is new and worthwhile. Sat with an artist at dinner, struck up a conversation with him, abused the Genevese, and he turned out to be one. What of it? I spoke sincerely. He’s a nice fellow, I think, but our conversation was quietly ill-tempered. Set off for a couple of days’ walking. Two Englishmen on the steamer. One was a teacher, the other his brother, an artist, I think, and I travelled with them via Stanstad to Alpnachstad. There were eleven English men and women there, for whom I acted as interpreter. Rapacity.82 A bad-tempered Scotsman. A dull hotel in Sarnen, but the English and I chatted and made music. Slept badly. Here again one begins to see balding women with goitres, cretins, white-haired and self-satisfied. They wear their plaits here tied up in a bun with an enormous pin. The people are blond and plain.
30 June/12 July, Sarnen – Beckenried Woke up at 9. Some Germans from Bern; we talked about hunting in the Vaterland.83 Had a bathe. Good-natured coarseness of the Germans. Set off on foot; cretins. Nice people, good-natured in a playfully cretinous way. An old woman with a parasol. Girls. Two girls from Stans flirted with me, one of them with wonderful eyes. I had bad thoughts and was immediately punished – by shyness. A wonderful church with an organ, full of pretty women. Masses of sociable and fairly pretty ones. A wonderful eating-house, surprisingly cheap. […]
2/14 July, Rigi-Kulm – Lucerne Got up at 3. A filthy bed with bugs. The same stupid view of nature and of people. Englishmen in blankets, with Murrays84 and maps. ‘Ah!’ they exclaimed, when the sun appeared. However, there was one moment of poetry yesterday when in the midst of a boundless sea of mist the fiery ball of the sun seemed to stop for some reason here and not there. The people are like ants – put a hillock in front of them and they’ll crawl up it. I set off with the Englishmen. I think I beat the Pole. Wonderful views below. Finished the journey by boat. The landlady’s daughter struts about. She’s too grand. I’m dying for lack of sleep. Had a bathe. Dozed off before dinner. Got angry at dinner with a Frenchman over something. Really, nothing can be more stupid than a comme il faut Frenchman. Slept, had a bathe, and went to Lucerne by boat. The Englishwoman has cleaned herself up and is nice and charming. Then I met the little one, but ran away from her. Had supper with the pastor and his family. A wonderful man.
4/16 July Got up at 7; a dog woke me up and I let it out. Wrote a bit and went to Sasha’s.85 What are we to do? It’s dull. The heat is exhausting. After dinner I wrote as much as I could despite the heat, and read Wilhelm Meister and Miss Brontë.86 The day before yesterday I received a letter from Turgenev, a nice tranquil one, and a disgruntled one from Botkin. Replied to them today, but I won’t send them. Roamed around in the evening; a cretin woman. Returned at night – Mendelssohn from the pension window. Is it possible that the tears of Sehnsucht [longing] which I often shed will cease as the years go by? […]
11/23 July, Friedrichshafen – Stuttgart Got up at 7; had a bathe. Went to the Summer Palace. Endearing poverty, and repulsive primness and courtly atmosphere. […] Had some excellent thoughts while reading. Two quite different things: The Cossack – as primitive and fresh as a biblical legend, and The Hunting Ground – very lively comedy; I must concentrate on types, all sharply defined.
Had a splendid view of the moon on my right. Very important – the idea occurred to me, clearly and forcibly, of starting a school in the country for the whole neighbourhood, and of general activity of that kind. The most important thing is constant activity. […]
14/26 July, Baden-Baden Ill in the morning; roulette till 6. Lost everything. Dined at home, quite ill. In the evening, I looked on quite calmly at all this depravity and confusion, but am weak and ill. The young people in neck-ties avoid me. Went home, but the Frenchman kept me awake till 3, jabbering about his political plans, and about poetry and love. Horrible! I’d rather be without a nose, stinking and goitrous, the most dreadful cretin, the most repulsive abortion, than such a moral abortion.
15/27 July Borrowed 200 roubles from the Frenchman, and lost it all. […]
20 July/1 August Yet another worthless day; borrowed money from Turgenev and lost it. Nothing has nagged at me so much for a long time. Received letters from Seryozha. Masha and Valeryan have separated. This news overwhelmed me. Vanechka87 is nice. And I feel ashamed in his presence.
24 July/5 August, Eisenach – Dresden Arrived at 9. Unwell. The town is nice. Went to the baths and walked back. Pushchin. He’s lost much of his charm away from Switzerland. Went round to the art gallery. The Madonna88 at once moved me deeply. Slept till 4. The theatre – a comedy by Gutzkow.89 Germanic in tentness. […]
25 July/6 August, Dresden Health still worse. Went round the bookshops and the music shops; my eyes stood out on pegs. Chose some music and books and went back to the gallery, but everything left me cold except the Madonna. […]
30 July/11 August, on the steamer to Petersburg Cards again. Arrived at 2. Borrowed money in embarrassment from Pushchin. Found nobody in Petersburg except the Kolbasins. No money. Went to Nekrasov’s. Disgusting stupidity – said nothing about money.
2 August, Petersburg Stayed in and read. Saltykov90 – a talent to be taken seriously. Health poor.
6 August Decided to leave. Got everything done, for good or ill. Left at 9. Russia is disgusting. I simply don’t like it. Health better.
8 August, Yasnaya Polyana Got up at 4. The horses didn’t come till 5. Set off, and met Vasily half-way. Reached Yasnaya at 11. ‘I welcome you, my …’.91 Delightful Yasnaya! Felt both sad and happy; but Russia disgusts me and I feel this coarse, deceitful life surrounding me on all sides. At the station Zorin was being thrashed, and I wanted to intercede, Vasily explained to me that first I would have to bribe the doctor. And he told me of many such things. Beatings and floggings. This is how I defined my purpose in life on the journey: first of all literary work, then family duties, then the estate – but I must leave the estate in the hands of the headman, and try as far as possible to lighten the load, make things better, take only 2,000 roubles for myself, and use the rest for the peasants. My chief stumbling block is the vanity of liberalism. But like Titus92 – I’ll do one good deed a day, and that will be sufficient.
9 August, Pirogovo Got up at 9. Health bad. The headman deeply despises me, and it’s hard for me to do anything with him. Sashka stole some butter. I summoned him to see me. ‘I don’t know what happens when I’ve had a drink.’ He said his feet were suppurating, but the headman said: ‘It serves you right.’ I admonished him and then gave him something. It was stupid, but what else could I do? Went to Pirogovo. The poverty of the people and the sufferings of the animals are dreadful. […]
13 August […] Read a bit of Brontë; wrote a letter to Turgenev. Started allowing the domestic serfs to buy their freedom.
15 August Felt all right all day. Read The Iliad.93 That’s the thing! Wonderful! Wrote to Ryabinin. I must revise the whole of The Caucasian Tale.94 Not many of the peasants want to transfer to quit-rent. […]
16 August In the morning, Vasily Davydkin. I gave him three roubles. The Iliad. Good, but no more. Went for a walk round the mill and thought about the estate. Prince Yengalychev. Cunning, stupid, uneducated but good-natured. Went riding and killed a hare. At home, attended to estate business. Wrote a little note to Auntie; increased the headman’s wages. Sensuality torments me; laziness again, boredom and sadness. Everything seems stupid. The ideal is unattainable; I’ve already ruined myself. Work, a modest reputation, money. What for? Material enjoyment – again, what for? There will soon be eternal night. I keep thinking I’ll die soon. I’m too lazy to write in detail; I’d like to write all the time in fiery outlines. Love. I’m thinking of a novel of that sort.95
17 August Only read The Iliad and intermittently attended to estate business. Went hunting, and to the Yengalychevs’. It’s sad and gloomy in that house – no memories. Came back at 1. The Iliad is making me completely rethink The Fugitive.
18 August Got up late, health quite good; but in the morning I lost my temper and called someone a blockhead. It’s terrible! Before you know it, you’ve come to grief again. Read The Iliad. Seryozha came; we had a pleasant chat. I’ve thought out The Hunting Ground completely, but I’m altogether dissatisfied with the Caucasian tale. I can’t write without an idea. But the idea that good is good in every sphere, that the same passions exist everywhere and that the primitive state is good, isn’t enough. It would be a good thing, though, if the latter work could inspire me. It’s the only solution.
26 August Health so-so. Estate business in the morning. It’s bad in all respects, but most of all because it’s dragging me once again into the serfdom rut. I don’t want the torment of introducing something new. Decided to buy land in Baburino.96 After dinner the threshing began. Zyabrev has turned down my offer; read Koltsov.97 Charm and immense power. Gave five men their letters of freedom. God only knows what will happen, but to make things better for people, even without getting any gratitude at all, is still something, and leaves its mark in one’s soul. I’m setting off tomorrow at daybreak.98
28 August I’m twenty-nine. Got up at 7. Mashenka was going to Spasskoye. This angered me: she’s going on her own.99 We met rather coldly. Auntie is right that Masha isn’t to blame for having a taste for that milieu; but she does have a taste for that repulsive milieu.
Seryozha has left. He and I are becoming more and more friendly. The main thing is to find the right string to play on with a man, and to let him do the same with you. […] Read the second part of Dead Souls; it’s rather clumsy. I must write nothing except The Hunting Ground, and put Auntie in it. I’m going to the Gorchakovs’ tomorrow.
29 August, en route from Pirogovo to Verkhoupye. Started at 6. […] Finished reading the unbelievably delightful ending of The Iliad. […] Read the Gospels, which I haven’t done for a long time. After The Iliad. How could Homer not have known that goodness is love! It’s a revelation! There is no better explanation. […]
1 September, Pirogovo Got up at 9, aching and with a sore throat. Read Kozlov and the Thoughts;100 they’re good. His boldness is forced – that’s his big defect.
2 September Got up early, tried to write, couldn’t get on with The Cossack. Read a stupid French novel. Went riding after dinner. I’m quite well. Mashenka’s nature is egotistical, spoilt and narrow. Wrote to my brothers.
3 September, Yasnaya Poly ana […] Set off for Yasnaya but found nothing. The sale of the wood is starting. I’ve no money. My youth is past! I say this in a good sense. I’m calm and there’s nothing I want. I even write calmly. It’s only now that I’ve come to understand that I don’t need to organise the life around me symmetrically, the way I want it, but I need to take myself apart, make myself flexible, in order to adapt myself to any sort of life.
6 September The estate again, which I’ve become very much involved in. Rode out with the dogs but didn’t find anything, and was bored. Dined alone and tried to read Hackländer101 – nasty, mal fait and lacking in talent. As for my own writing, I’ve decided that my chief fault is timidity. I must be bold. Wrote two sheets of The Lost One in the evening. Slept badly, sensual excitement.
8 September, Sunday Called the peasants together. Yukhvan is fifty-five. They all looked at me in alarm, but they’re good people. Makarychev told me about his brother’s stealing and perjury. Dined alone. Went for a ride. Gimbut is swindling me. Wrote a little and felt in the mood for writing. Sent a reply to Kolbasin. Read Gogol’s letters recently received. As a man he was simply trash. Terrible trash.
24 September Got up late. Bad-tempered. Scolded Yakov. Abominable! Wonderful weather. Wrote a little. I’ve let myself go terribly in all respects. So many unresolved problems. The charge for the use of land: should I increase it or not? etc. Rode to Gimbut’s. Flirted with MN. Khmelnitsky is a gifted and clever chatterbox. He spoke about farming in the Volga district and about that region. It smacks of Koltsov’s poetry. At home Klara – she filled me with disgust. […]
5 October Worked on the estate; no labourers. A mass of expenses; I’m getting despondent. Went for a ride, wrote a bit in the evening. Expected a woman – she didn’t come.
19 October, Moscow102 Busy in the morning. Dined at the club; boring; besides, I’m not well. Evening at the Aksakovs’. Disgusting literary atmosphere.
21 October In the morning, decided about lodgings, went for a walk and dined at Fet’s. He, too, is ambitious and poor. Went to the Aksakovs’ with him. To the theatre and to the Arsenyevs’. Yesterday was at the Behrs’. Lyubochka103 is awful – balding and frail. Misfortunes on all sides. And God, how old I am! Everything bores me, nothing disgusts me, I’m even fairly satisfied with myself, but everything leaves me cold. I don’t desire anything, and I’m prepared to eke out this joyless existence as best I can. Only why, I don’t know. What is strange is not that God ordained that a piece of bread should be His Son’s flesh; 100,000 times more strange is the fact that we live and don’t know why; that we love good, but that nowhere is it written: ‘This is good, that is evil.’
22 October, Petersburg Set off for Petersburg; almost missed the train. The Arsenyevs and Talyzin104 were there. I don’t much like him. In the morning, I called on the Minister,105 saw Zelenoy and for some reason was embarrassed. To Nekrasov’s – depressing. To Annenkov’s – nice. Dined at the club with Kovalevsky. Evening at the Tolstoys’. Alexandrine is charming – a joy and a comfort. I’ve never seen a woman who could hold a candle to her. Alexandra Petrovna in the evening; it’s too late, she’s got wrinkles.
29 October Caught the Minister in. Didn’t manage to talk about the matter properly. Dined at Shostak’s.106 Perovsky’s story.107 Alexandrine is charming. Evening with them.
30 October, Moscow Had a talk with Kolbasin and set off. The Death of Pazukhin108is an impossible abomination. Yushkov. A despot and a fool. Dolgorukov, an ageing society man, and poor Meshchersky on their way from Paris to the Caucasus. The news of Orlov’s marriage to Trubetskaya aroused sadness and envy in me. Arrived tired and with a heavy cold and ’flu. Mashenka kept talking about herself, and didn’t ask a word about me. Still she was affectionate towards me. Never mind. Slept during the day. Read N. S. Tolstoy’s book.109 Wonderful. And Yershov’s Sevastopol110 is good. I mean to stay in and write. Petersburg saddened me at first, but then quite restored me. My reputation has fallen, or is just about surviving, and I felt greatly saddened at heart, but now I’m more composed; I know I have something to say and the strength to say it forcefully; so the public can say what it likes for all I care. But it’s necessary to work conscientiously and apply all one’s strength – then let them spit on the altar.111
6 November […] Alexandrine is charming. She is definitely the woman who charms me more than any other. Talked to her about marriage. Why didn’t I tell her everything? […]
7 November […] In the evening, I read Don Quixote and went to the baths.
8 November […] Went to the Sukhotins’. Was awkward with everyone except Alexandra Alexeyevna.112 She’s excellent. Got home after 1.
11 November Went to the Trustee Council and to Ostrovsky’s. He’s cold. Gymnastics. Fet came to dinner. He read Antony and Cleopatra,113 and by his talk kindled my ardour for art. I must begin The Cossack dramatically. Can’t sleep.
14 November Eureka! For The Cossacks – both killed.114 […]
17 November Went out with Seryozha; dined at home. Evening at the Aksakovs’; terrible pride. I argued about Gogol to no purpose.
24 November Got on with The Lost One. Went to Tytucheva’s.115 Felt terribly awkward for some reason. Splendid dinner at home. Finished writing The Dream116 – it’s not bad. […]
25 November Got up early, revised The Lost One. Gymnastics improving a bit. After dinner did some more revising, and finished it. The whole second half is weak.
27 November Read The Dead Lake.117 Trash. […]
1 December […] Evening at the Dyakovs’. Wonderful sisters. Alexandrine has me on a string and I’m grateful to her for it. However in the evenings I’m passionately in love with her, and return home full of something – happiness or sadness – I don’t know which.
3 December Wrote a little. Dined at Fet’s. Something still not right. Antony and Cleopatra. Translation bad. The theatre; all the time with Alexandrine. To tea with them. Told her about my bewilderment. She likes my bewilderment. A discussion with Mikhail Mikhaylovich118 about socialism.
4 December […] Dinner at the Sukhotins’. She was anxiously feeling her way with me. All the same I love her and am foolish when I’m with her. […]
11, 12, 13–26 December A few unenjoyable balls. A few ‘Nadya’119 soirées, pleasant but equivocal. Latterly they’ve been dull. Revised The Musician. I’ll publish it. Twice went to the gipsies’.
26 December Got up at 12, wanted to work a bit when Ostrovsky came, then Sergius120 with the gipsies: ‘broad’ natures – rubbish! Then the Aksakovs. Talk about the dinner.121 We dined at home; Auntie tried to prove the usefulness of torture – because the children had been given a fright. […]
28 December Kryukov and Bakhmetev. Visits. Sukhotina is very nice. The Olsufyevs spoke a lot about me. Annoying. The dinner is on the tip of everyone’s tongue – all the speeches trivial except Pavlov’s. Konstantin Aksakov is very nice and kind. At the Sushkovs’. B. was very nice, but reserved. Rayevsky was disgusting.
29, 30, 31 December Ball at the Bobrinskys’. I’m beginning to like Tyutcheva in a quiet way. Wrote down Nikolenka’s dream.122 No one agrees, but I know that it’s good.
1 The Emperor’s New Clothes. The translation has not survived.
2 A so-called ‘Literary Fund’ to help writers in need.
3 His articles on Pushkin, eleven in all.
4 A performance intended to raise money for the Literary Fund.
5 Possibly F. M. Tolstoy, a music critic and composer.
6 Belinsky’s fifth article, which deals particularly with Pushkin’s lyric poetry.
7 A German who came to Petersburg as a professional violinist and whose life history, as recounted to Tolstoy, formed the basis of the latter’s story Albert (originally called The Lost One).
8 To go abroad.
9 This entry refers to the story Albert in its early stages.
10 This plan came to nothing.
11 Panayev’s wife was to be the ‘George Sand woman’ in the comedy.
12 A chapter from Aksakov’s book (The Childhood Years of Grandson Bagrov) which dealt with his own childhood in fictional form.
13 Tolstoy wrote enthusiastically about Ostrovsky’s comedy to Botkin on 29 January 1857 (Letters, I, 92).
14 The wife of the statesman Baron Mengden and a well-known hostess and close friend of the Tolstoy family (Letters, I, 275).
15 One of the daughters of the poet Tyutchev whom Tolstoy greatly admired. It was rumoured in 1858 that Tolstoy intended to marry her. She never married and devoted much of her life to ‘good works’, especially public education and health, as well as writing a children’s version of the Bible.
16 En route for Paris via Warsaw.
17 In French in the original.
18 Some material for publication by Herzen in London, which Kolbasin wanted Tolstoy to take abroad with him.
19 A distinguished lawyer, historian and liberal politician, who met and corresponded frequently with Tolstoy (Letters, I, 132).
20 Tolstoy spent most of February and March in Paris.
21 Or rather a room in a pension in the Rue de Rivoli, where Turgenev also stayed for some time.
22 Prince N. A. Orlov, the son of Prince A. F. Orlov, head of the Third Section and a personal friend of Nicholas I. The son held a number of diplomatic posts abroad, including Paris, and later married Princess Trubetskaya, whom Tolstoy was fond of.
23 To 206 Rue de Rivoli from the Hôtel Meurice where he had first stayed on arriving in Paris.
24 Princess Alexandra Lvova, who was staying with her uncle whom Tolstoy had known for a long time. Tolstoy frequently visited her in Paris, was attracted to her and was even advised to marry her by his cousin Alexandra Tolstoy.
25 Napoleon III’s recent speech extolling French successes achieved during his reign.
26 An account of his journey from Russia, which has not survived.
27 Tolstoy saw Molière’s comedy at the Théâtre français.
28 A comedy by Mélesville, also on at the Théâtre français.
29 A French actress who had previously performed in Petersburg, and was acting at the time in Marivaux’s play.
30 It would seem that Tolstoy saw Molière’s play on the same day as Marivaux’s.
31 Tolstoy engaged both English and Italian teachers in Paris.
32 Balzac’s novel.
33 Tolstoy attended some lectures at the Sorbonne and the Collège de France on classical literature, political economy and international law.
34 Probably Beethoven’s Trio, opus 70.
35 The singer Pauline Viardot-Garcia, the great love of Turgenev’s life.
36 An opera singer.
37 A professor of political economy at the Collège de France.
38 A professor of international law at the same institution.
39 A professor of classical culture.
40 The collection of mediaeval arms and antiquities in the museum particularly interested Tolstoy.
41 Possibly a coinage of Tolstoy’s to denote a woman who accosts.
42 The Lost One (Albert).
43 Tolstoy and Turgenev went to Dijon at Turgenev’s suggestion and spent five days there.
44 The comic opera by Donizetti.
45 Daniel Douglas Home, the Scottish spiritualist and medium, whose seance at the Trubetskoys’ met with mixed success. He was in great demand in Europe, even by royalty, but is referred to unflatteringly in Robert Browning’s poem Sludge the Medium.
46 The recently opened operetta and light comedy theatre.
47 A one-act comedy by Cormon and Grangé.
48 Sergey.
49 Another recently opened theatre of light opera and pantomime.
50 A féerie or fairy play, performed at the circus.
51 The cemetery where many French writers and statesmen are buried.
52 La Cousine Bette.
53 A late eighteenth-century tragedy by the Italian poet Alfieri, based on the Greek legend of the unnatural love of Myrrha for her father Cinyras, king of Cyprus, the parents of Adonis.
54 She played the title role in the play.
55 Tolstoy wrote about it at some length in his letter to Botkin the same day (Letters, I, 95) and again many years later in A Confession.
56 For Geneva.
57 After leaving Paris Tolstoy continued his European travels for a further four months. He travelled from Paris to Ambérieu by train and from there to Geneva by stagecoach. In Geneva he renewed his acquaintance with his ‘Aunt’ Alexandra Tolstaya and spent a great deal of time with her, both at the villa Le Bocage where she was staying with the Grand Duchess Marya Nikolayevna, and on excursions into the neighbouring countryside. Before long he moved to Clarens, not far from Geneva, where he made friends with a small group of Russians – the Pushchins, Meshcherskys and Karamzins – as he mentioned in a letter to his aunt Tatyana Yergolskaya (Letters, I, 100). In the middle of May he travelled on foot round Switzerland with an eleven-year-old boy, Sasha Polivanov, the son of a Russian lady he knew in Clarens. Their journey, which took them through Montreux, Les Avants, Col de Jaman, Château d’Oex and back to Clarens via Interlaken, Grindelwald, Thun, Bern and Fribourg is described separately in Tolstoy’s Extract from a Diary, 1857: Notes on a Journey through Switzerland, but a few entries were also made in Tolstoy’s main diary and are included here. The journey lasted ten days from 15/27 May to 25 May/6 June, and shortly after his return Tolstoy set off again for Northern Italy where his friends Botkin and Druzhinin were staying. He joined them at Turin, where they spent some time sightseeing before returning to Clarens, partly on foot, through the Aosta valley and the St Bernard Pass. After a few days’ rest, Tolstoy set off for Lausanne, Bern and Lucerne, arriving in Lucerne on 24 June/6 July. It was during his stay there that the incident occurred which is described in Tolstoy’s story Lucerne. On 7/19 July he left Lucerne for Zurich, but soon moved on to Schaffhausen, Friedrichshafen, Stuttgart and Baden-Baden, where his heavy gambling losses and the news of the breakdown of his sister’s marriage made him decide to return to Russia. The final stage of his European journey took him through Frankfurt (where he saw Alexandra Tolstaya again), Dresden and Berlin. On 27 July/8 August he boarded a ship at Stettin and four days later was back in Petersburg.
58 Of stories he intended to work on in Geneva.
59 Totleben had been in command of the defences at Sevastopol and had until the previous month been convalescing in Switzerland from a wound received in the Crimean War.
60 The foreword to the 1842 edition of his novels which were published in seventeen volumes.
61 De la liberté de la presse et du journalisme. Girardin founded La Presse in 1836; it ushered in the age of the cheap newspaper in France.
62 Of The Fugitive.
63 M. I. Pushchin and his wife. M. I. Pushchin was the brother of the Decembrist friend of Pushkin’s.
64 Prince Meshchersky was married to the daughter of Karamzin and was living at the time in Switzerland.
65 A novel by Dumas fils.
66 A reference to the bombardment of Canton by the British navy in 1856 – also mentioned in Tolstoy’s story Lucerne.
67 Presumably L’Ancien régime et la révolution (1856).
68 A deputy of the Constituent Assembly in 1848 and an editor of La Tribune under Louis-Philippe, he wrote a six-volume Biographie des hommes du jour.
69 Written by Louis-Napoléon in London in 1838.
70 Another tentative title of Albert.
71 Pushchin’s wife.
72 Sasha Polivanov.
73 Yelizaveta Nikolayevna Karamzina, daughter of the historian and the sister of Meshchersky’s wife. She was staying at the time with the Meshchersky family, and Tolstoy was very attracted by her.
74 Extract from a Diary (see Note 57).
75 A novel (Grannarne, 1837) by the distinguished Swedish woman novelist, Frederika Bremer.
76 A conjectured reading for the initials which Tolstoy used in his diary.
77 Botkin, Druzhinin and Tolstoy.
78 Willkommen und Abschied, 1770.
79 Die Krone, a hotel in the outskirts of Bern.
80 See Tolstoy’s story Lucerne.
81 The title of Freytag’s novel which came out in 1855 is written in German in the diary and Tolstoy presumably read it in the original; the title of Hans Andersen’s novel is written in Russian but it is likely that he read it in a German translation.
82 In English in the original.
83 An alternative reading is Waadtland, a canton in the Pays du Vaud.
84 Guide-books published by John Murray.
85 Alexandra Tolstaya.
86 The title of Goethe’s novel is in Russian; ‘Miss Brontë’ is written in English and evidently refers to Mrs Gaskell’s Life of Charlotte Brontë.
87 Probably Ivan Turgenev, who had once been very friendly with Tolstoy’s sister Masha, who had just left her husband.
88 By Raphael.
89 Probably Ein weisses Blatt, a comedy by Karl Gutzkow, which had recently been revived on the Dresden stage.
90 Saltykov-Shchedrin, Russia’s best-known satirical writer and author of The Golovlyov Family (Letters, II, 389). Tolstoy was probably reading Saltykov’s Provincial Sketches at the time.
91 The first line of Pushkin’s poem The Village.
92 A reference to the Roman Emperor Titus who, according to Suetonius, considered the day wasted unless he had done a good deed.
93 In Gnedich’s translation.
94 The Cossacks.
95 Perhaps Family Happiness.
96 An estate very close to Yasnaya Polyana where Tolstoy opened a school in the 1860s.
97 Koltsov’s poems were included, together with those of Tyutchev and Fet, in the list of works which had made a great impression on him between the ages of twenty and thirty-five.
98 For Pirogovo, to go hunting.
99 Tolstoy feared a possible relationship between his sister and Turgenev.
100 Poems by Kozlov, and Koltsov’s Thoughts (Dumy).
101 Possibly the German writer’s novel Europäisches Sklavenleben.
102 On 16 October Tolstoy and his sister had left for Moscow.
103 His future mother-in-law.
104 Talyzin, a justice of the peace in Oryol, married Valeriya Arseneva the following year.
105 In connection with his scheme for afforestation in the Tula province.
106 Yekaterina Nikolayevna Shostak, at the time the headmistress of a school in Petersburg.
107 Alexandra Tolstaya told the story of how V. A. Perovsky (a son of Count Razumovsky with whom she had been in love) was taken prisoner by the French after Borodino – a story Tolstoy apparently made use of later when describing Pierre’s similar experience in War and Peace.
108 A comedy by Saltykov-Shchedrin.
109 Tolstoy’s second cousin’s book Sketches from beyond the Volga.
110 Yershov’s Sevastopol Memoirs first appeared in 1857. Yershov, an artillery officer, asked Tolstoy to write a foreword to the second edition in 1889, which he did, but for censorship reasons it was not published in Russia and first came out in England in 1902.
111 An allusion to Pushkin’s poem To a Poet.
112 Obolenskaya (née Dyakova). Tolstoy’s infatuation for her left its mark in an unfinished fragment.
113 His own translation of Shakespeare’s play.
114 Tolstoy later changed his mind again.
115 The reading Tyutcheva (the poet’s daughter) is preferred to Tyutchev, since the poet was not in Moscow at the time.
116 The musician’s dream in The Lost One.
117 A novel written jointly by Nekrasov and Panayeva.
118 M. M. Sukhotin, a member of the Moscow circuit court, married to Princess A. P. Golitsyna.
119 Tolstoy made up a Russian noun from Nadya (nadinstvo) which he sometimes used to refer to women’s tittle-tattle.
120 His brother Sergey.
121 A banquet given by liberally-minded intelligentsia to mark the Tsar’s rescript of November 1857, which laid the foundations for the reforms leading up to the emancipation of the serfs.
122 This probably refers to a dream related to Tolstoy by his brother Nikolay (a fragment entitled A Dream was published posthumously), and not to the musician’s dream mentioned in Note 116 above, although there are some similarities between the two.