The Diaries of Sofia Tolstoy (52 page)

Sofia Tolstoy at the window of the stationmaster's house at Astapovo station, where Tolstoy was dying, November 1910

 

Tolstoy's sons carrying his coffin, 8th November 1910, at Astapovo station

 

Sofia Tolstoy by Tolstoy's grave at Yasnaya Polyana, 1912

 

Sofia Tolstoy and her granddaughter Tanya, 1917

 

We have been enjoying life here, the weather is fine and L.N.'s convalescence is progressing well. I went riding twice, once to Orianda with Klassen and once to Alupka with him and Sasha. It was most enjoyable. I play the piano, sew and take photographs. Lev Nikolaevich is writing an appeal to the working people, ‘On the Ownership of the Land', in which he says much the same thing as he wrote to the Tsar. We are planning to leave on the 13th.

 

13th June
. Yet again it looks as though we won't be leaving Gaspra for a while. In Russia it's damp, raining and very cold—only 12 degrees—and Lev Nikolaevich has an upset stomach.

He is still writing his proclamation to the workers. I copied the whole thing for him today. Much of it is illogical, impractical and unclear. The fact that the land is owned by the rich, and the great suffering this imposes on the peasants, is indeed a crying injustice. But this matter will not be resolved in a hurry.

 

17th June
. Arguments about the Bashkirs.* Numerous visitors milling around all day.

 

26th June
. Yesterday we finally left Gaspra. I thank God He has granted us to take Lev Nikolaevich home once more! I pray he never has to leave again!

 

27th June (Yasnaya Polyana)
. Today we returned home from the Crimea. We rode to Yalta on horseback, with Lev Nikolaevich and Sasha, travelling in the Yusupovs' rubber-tyred carriage. There were Lev Nikolaevich, Sasha and I, my son Seryozha, Boulanger, Yulia Igumnova and Doctor Nikitin in our party. In Yalta we boarded the steamer
Alexei
. Ladies, bouquets, crowds of people waving farewell…On the steamer L.N. sat on deck, ate in the public dining room and felt extremely well…In Sevastopol we disembarked onto a skiff and sailed round the harbour to the station; the sun was bright and it was very beautiful. A specially large, comfortable carriage with a saloon had been set aside for L.N. Sasha was ill and miserable and had an upset stomach. At Kharkov station, people—mostly women—welcomed him with ovations. At Kursk there were crowds of people who had just been to an exhibition on popular education. The police pushed
them back, and deputations of men and women teachers and students boarded the train—Misha Stakhovich, Dolgorukov, Gorbunov and Lodyzhensky, among others.

It was a joy to get back to Yasnaya, but our joy was short-lived. That evening Masha began to have pains, and soon afterwards she gave birth to a dead baby boy.

 

30th June
. Lev Nikolaevich had a temperature of 37.8 this evening and we were very anxious about him. I sat with Masha all morning. It is cold and raining. The saffron milk caps* are out.

 

3rd July
. Lev Nikolaevich walked to the side wing to see Masha, and this afternoon he played Haydn's second symphony as a duet with Vasya Maklakov. Sasha brought in some saffron milk caps.

 

4th July
. Lev Nikolaevich is well; he went to the side wing and back. This afternoon he had a long talk with Doctor Nikitin about psychiatrists, whom he was criticizing.

 

23rd July
. The time is passing terribly fast. On 5th July I went to see Ilyusha at Mansurovo, his estate in the province of Kaluga, and spent a delightful two days with him, Sonya and my grandchildren. We went for walks and drives through the lovely woods and countryside, and had long heart-to-heart talks.

On 7th July, I went to Begichevka to see Misha and my lovable little grandson Vanechka. Lina is a sensitive, serious, loving woman. Misha is young and arrogant, but this will pass. On the night of the 8th I returned to Yasnaya with Misha. Lev Nikolaevich is well but weak. Sasha had a nervous attack on the 10th.

On 11th July, Sasha and I went to Taptykovo to visit Olga on her name day. We had a pleasant day, and returned home late that night after a heavy downpour of rain.

My son-in-law Mikhail Sukhotin is gravely ill with suppurative inflammation of the lung. I felt so anxious and so sad for poor Tanya, and on the evening of 16th July I set off for Kochety. The atmosphere there was cold and depressing. Mikhail Sergeevich looked thin and wretched, and Tanya, who had been sitting up with him every night, was tense and exhausted. I spent four days there and returned on the morning of the 21st.

It is still cool, and yesterday it poured with rain. The rye still hasn't been sheaved and the oats aren't cut. It is afternoon now, and only
10 degrees. Before it rained yesterday I took a drive round Yasnaya Polyana and the plantations. How wonderfully beautiful it all is!

 

26th July
. A full and happy day. Ilya's family came with Annochka and the grandsons, and we took a walk with Zosya Stakhovich and Sasha. This evening Goldenweiser played beautifully, a Schumann sonata and a Chopin Ballade. Then we talked about poets and Lev Nikolaevich recalled Baratynsky's poem ‘On Death'. We straight away got out the book and Zosya read us this lovely poem.

On the 22nd another son was born to Lyova and Dora; we had a telegram from them today.

Lev Nikolaevich is well. He played vint all evening and enjoyed the music. In the mornings he writes his novel
Hadji Murat
,* to my great delight.

 

27th July
. Music continues to have its usual healing effect on me. This evening Goldenweiser played, excellently, the Chopin sonata with the funeral march. L.N. was sitting near me and the room was filled with my nearest and dearest—Ilyusha, Andryusha, Sonya, Olga, Annochka, Zosya Stakhovich and Maria Schmidt. And moved by the music, I felt a quiet joy creep into my heart and fill it with gratitude to God for bringing us all together once more, happy and loving, and for allowing Lev Nikolaevich to be with us still, alive and comparatively well…And I felt ashamed of my weaknesses and resentments and all the evil that spoils this good life of mine…

 

9th August
. What a long time it is since I wrote my diary! The past month has been filled with anxieties about Sukhotin's health; he is now worse again. My poor darling Tanya. She loves him too much, and is finding it very hard; nursing him is difficult enough as it is. I went to Moscow on the 2nd and was busy checking accounts, attending to business and ordering the new edition. Sergei Ivanovich is immersed in work on a musical textbook* that he wants to finish before leaving for Moscow. I asked him to play something, but he refused, and was stern, unapproachable and even rather unpleasant. There is something sad and serious about him nowadays; he has aged and changed, and this makes me unhappy. I was glad to get home. Lina came yesterday with little Vanechka, and this morning Misha arrived. His whole family is utterly charming in every respect. Lina's mother came yesterday
with her sister Lyuba. My nephew Sasha is here, and Annochka and Maude, and Liza Obolenskaya arrived. A lot of commotion, but most enjoyable.

Lev Nikolaevich played a game of vint and asked for something to eat. He is still writing his story
Hadji Murat
, and today his work evidently went badly, as he played patience for a long time—a sure sign he can't work something out. The priests keep sending me religious books which curse him.* Neither he nor they are right; all extremes lack the
wisdom
and
goodness
of inner tranquillity.

A grey day, but no wind. A bright sunset and a moonlit night.

 

11th August
. Misha's family left yesterday, and Olga arrived with Sonyushka. What a sweet, affectionate, clever little girl she is! I love her so much. Liza Obolenskaya left, and Stasov arrived, and also Ginzburg, who has sculpted a bas-relief of Sasha which is very bad and not at all like her. I have now learnt how to do this myself, and would very much like to attempt a medallion of L.N. and me.

We all went to pick saffron milk caps yesterday; I left the others and had a lovely time wandering through the forest on my own. The old fire in my heart is extinguished, and I am obviously growing old.

Lev Nikolaevich has been very lively and talkative. He told us when he was in Sevastopol he had asked to be assigned a
post
, and they sent him and the artillery to the fourth bastion. But he was removed from there on the Tsar's orders, after Nicholas I sent Gorchakov a message saying: “Remove Tolstoy from the fourth bastion and spare his life, for he is worth something.”

Rain all day. The oats are still in the field. 13 degrees.

 

28th August
. Lev Nikolaevich's 74th birthday. We went out to meet him on his way back from his walk. Four of our sons have come; Lyova is in Sweden, and my poor darling Tanya couldn't be here as her husband is still ill. We celebrated my great husband's birthday in the most banal fashion: dinner for twenty-four illassorted people, with champagne and fruit, and a game of vint afterwards, just like any other day. Lev Nikolaevich simply cannot wait for evening, when he can sit down to a hand of vint. And they have now dragged Sasha into their games, which greatly distresses me.

He is working hard on
Hadji Murat
.

 

2nd September
. On 31st August two doctors arrived from Moscow for a consultation—capable, lively Shchurovksy and P. Usov, a dear cautious man who has treated L.N. before. They both decided it would be best to spend the winter here in Yasnaya, which is far more to my liking than having to travel here, there and everywhere. I personally find it much easier in Moscow; there are people I love there, and a lot of music and serious innocent entertainments—exhibitions, concerts, lectures, interesting friends, social life and so on. But I realize Lev Nikolaevich finds Moscow
insufferable
, with all the visitors and noise, so I shall gladly live in my dear Yasnaya and visit Moscow only when I am exhausted here.

Meanwhile life is very eventful, time speeds past, I am kept busy all day long, and there isn't any music or a chance to rest. All these guests can be very tiresome at times. I have started to sculpt a medallion of L.N.'s and my profiles. I'm in despair that I won't be able to finish, but I do so want to; I occasionally sit up all night, as late as 5 a.m., straining my eyes.

 

10th October
. I haven't written for so long—time has flown. On 18th September I saw my Tanya and her family off to Montreux in Switzerland. My heart ached to see her, wretched, pale and thin, bustling about on the Smolensk station with all the luggage and her sick husband. But we have just had good news from her, thank God.

I spent my name day in Moscow. I invited a lot of guests, who came to say goodbye to the Sukhotins, and Sergei Ivanovich, whom I had run into on the street. He was solemn and austere; something in him has changed, he has become even more impenetrable than before.