by Cathy Porter
2nd. Proofs all morning. Took fresh flowers to the grave and scattered seeds to the birds. Wept bitterly; inconsolable, irreparable grief. Prayer is no comfort. My three grandsons have left. Andryusha returned and told me of L.N.’s fears that I might chase after him, and his tears and sobs when they told him I had tried to drown myself. It was very painful.
4th. A snowstorm this morning. The artist Orlov has arrived. Seryozha has left. I tidied the books again—so tedious! This evening my sons Ilya, Andrei and Misha rushed over and demanded 1,500 rubles to send Ilya to America to sell Yasnaya Polyana.* I find this most distasteful and distressing. I should like to see Yasnaya Polyana in Russian hands, as public property.
5th. A lot of proofs, all to no purpose, it seems. There’s no spiritual centre to the world now, no lofty, abstract life in this house—and it’s very sad! There’s no love either—although I was robbed of that long ago, the expression of it anyway, and my place in Lev Nik.’s heart.
6th. Makovitsky left here for good today. I wept; one more link with Lev Nik. is now broken. I corrected some page proofs of Volume 20 and wrote Tanya a postcard. Then I tidied some books, although there are still a lot of new ones from Makovitsky to be sorted. This evening I pasted cuttings into the album and wrote to Lev Nik.’s French translator Halpérine-Kaminsky in Paris.
8th. I am tormented by discussions with my sons about the sale of Yasnaya Polyana and Andryusha’s attempts to contest the will. I can sympathize with one aspect of this, however: his desire to disinherit the hateful Chertkov.
11th–15th (Moscow). Sasha has again fallen under the same influence that destroyed both Lev Nik. and me—Chertkov. He has set her against me, and through Muravyov, her attorney, she has issued a legal injunction barring me from my room at the Historical Museum, halting publication of my edition at the press and other similarly despicable acts. And she has found yet another ally in her persecution of me—Goldenweiser. I visited the Historical Museum, talked to the administrators and gave them a document in response to Sasha’s, also forbidding anyone to enter my room or have access to his manuscripts. Sasha has threatened to damage my edition in every way possible—let her! I left this evening for Yasnaya Polyana without coming to any agreement with her. How her late father would have grieved at her behaviour.
19th. Spent the morning reading proofs, and was about to go to the grave when my son Misha arrived from Moscow. Long discussions about how to defend ourselves against Chertkov’s and Sasha’s malevolence. Terribly painful and nerve-racking! If it wasn’t for my impoverished sons I would have given up.
20th. Painful discussions with Andryusha: “If there’s no money I’ll shoot myself!” How terrible to think like that! The newspapers and lawyers have stood up for my rights.* But how much better it would be to have peace and friendly agreement.
21st. Very depressed, the tears keep coming to my eyes. The same as usual—reading proofs and pasting in newspaper cuttings. Hypocritical feuilleton by Mr Chertkov in all the papers. The more I think about it, the more clearly I realize Lev Nik. preferred Chertkov at the end of his life, and the more sad and painful it is. Very frosty, minus 20°. Everything is bright and beautiful. How white and pure it all is…
22nd. Read 3 pages of proofs and marvelled at the artistry of Lev Nik.’s writing.
23rd. Read probably the last proofs of Youth I shall ever read. A telegram from Spiro telling me to prepare a reply to a letter from Chertkov in today’s papers, which I haven’t yet read.
24th. Wrote to Ksyunin and the State Bank. Most unpleasant to read Sasha’s letter next to Chertkov’s in all the newspapers. The persecution continues. How will it all end! At times like these one longs for death. The articles in the papers are so unpleasant; they have cheapened my beloved Lyovochka’s name, and this is unbearably painful. S.P. Spiro, a journalist for Russian Word, came to visit. I begged him not to publish anything on my behalf. Cold, minus 16°, wind. I didn’t leave the house all day. Such depression!
4th February. Oh, what sadness! The wind howled all day. I copied out some interesting pages from Lev Nik.’s notebooks—material for an unwritten work about the Peter the Great period.* Fascinating.
9th. Copied my letter to Koni.* Initialled handkerchiefs. Went to Lev Nik.’s grave and wept and prayed, begging him to forgive me for being unable to make him happier at the end of his life. I should have accepted that he preferred Chertkov, but I couldn’t. I pasted newspaper cuttings and grieved.
10th. Terrible snowstorm this morning. Copied the diary L.N. kept when he wooed and married me. Did a little sewing. I’m depressed and afraid of going to Moscow—although I must; I have to clear up things for future generations.
13th (Moscow). Sasha came, fat, red-cheeked and stubborn, secretive and spiteful as ever. Painful discussion. What a cross this daughter of mine is. A lot of tedious business and bustle. The new edition has appeared in 20 volumes.
16th. We are hurrying to sell and distribute the new edition.
17th. Went to the warehouse this morning to give various instructions, then to the bank and to Howard’s to ask about the account and the cheques. Learnt that Volumes 16, 19 and 20 of the Complete Collected Works have been seized.* This complicates everything. Home this evening.
20th. The lawyer Maklakov recommends that Sasha and I go to a court of arbitration. All courts are so painful. Ilya and Andryusha came, and briefly Misha. I went to see him and his family off from Paveletsky station. Endless partings—life is so lonely! Endless problems.
21st. Worked frantically on the sale of the new edition all morning. Paid Howard 20,000 rubles for paper and the Kushneryov printers over 15,300. Went to the bank to see Dunaev, who is a director. Did some shopping. Thawing snow and terrible mud in Moscow. Spent the evening quietly at home. Depression.
22nd. Went to the bank. Visited the museum and talked to Prince Shcherbatov about the manuscripts. The police sealed up Vols. 16, 19 and 20 in the warehouse today.
23rd. I went to the warehouse early this morning to ask the police officer not to spoil the books when they’re sealing them up, then walked to the mushroom market with my maid Verochka. Thawing. Went home, copied my summer diary and painfully relived it. Went to church. Today is the day of my Vanechka’s death. May the Lord reunite me soon with my Lyovochka and Vanechka.
2nd March. Spent the day copying out the sad story of my life during the summer of 1910. I weep for things that can never be put right, yet it was all foreordained. Stakhovich was here. Negotiations are starting today between him, Belgard and Stepanov (procurator of the Palace of Justice). Tomorrow they will be summoning me too.
3rd. Misha Stakhovich came this morning and Alexei Belgard, chief press censor, a most sympathetic man. They are defending my interests over the seizure of the 3 volumes of the Complete Collected Works, and I am grateful to them. But then one has to take L.N. Tolstoy’s widow’s wishes into account; one could hardly put her in prison or lock her in a fortress. I stayed indoors all day.
4th. My negotiations over the seizure of the 3 volumes are going badly. I shall have to reprint two volumes at least—that’s the best that can happen. At worst they can throw me in the fortress and put me on trial. I spent the day copying and weeping.
7th. Visited the editorial boards with an announcement of the sale of Lev Nik.’s works. Sat up late copying and did 4 pages—90 more to go.
9th. Prince Shcherbatov, president of the Historical Museum, called on me and stayed a long time, telling me how I could get the manuscripts back, although he said they hadn’t come to any agreement and everything was exactly as it was before. He advised me to write to Kasso, Minister of Education, and to take up the matter in St Petersburg, and if I didn’t achieve any results with the ministers to go and see the Tsar himself. I stayed at home all day and copied.
10th. I wrote two letters to Kasso, one asking them to return everything of mine to me (diaries, letters and so on), the other asking to be allowed to use various documents for my memoirs. I also prepa
red to leave for St Petersburg. Sonya Mamonova, Misha Olsufiev and Count Geiden dined with us, which was very pleasant. I visited the Rumyantsev Museum and the Historical Museum, asked for copies of the paintings of Lev Nik. and visited the exhibition.
12th. I worked all morning and late into the night, and finished copying my diary from June to October, when Lev Nik. left. This evening I went to vespers at the Palace Church in the Kremlin, where L.N. and I were married. The service was very crude, the deacon and the singers had the most disagreeable bass voices, the church was empty and dark, and the whole thing had a dismal effect on me. Maslova and Prince and Princess Odoevsky came to pay their respects and compliments.
14th. Took my last diary to the Historical Museum, as well as three notebooks containing Lev Nik.’s first and last diaries, and copies of various letters of his; I shall receive a receipt for these tomorrow. Then I rushed around the town—I am planning to leave for Yasnaya tomorrow. A wonderful spring day, the sun is shining, the streams are thawing—and everything is so melancholy! I long for home and the grave.
15th. Took back a book to Taneev. He is weeping for his nurse, I am weeping for my husband, and we had a good heart-to-heart talk. This evening I left for Yasnaya.
16th. I cried as I approached the house, cried when I went to the grave and cried when I went into Lev Nikol.’s room. It was as if he was still here and was about to come in and I would tell him something. Tanya’s friend Yulia Igumnova is staying, who has become very stout, and the artist Orlov. Old Dunyasha and Nurse are quietly living out their last days here. All so empty and sad! Nothing but bills, housekeeping and business.
21st. Copied out the diaries. What a lot of careful, conscientious background work on his books he put into these diaries!
23rd. I have finished copying Lev Nik.’s diaries—to my great sorrow! Now I have nothing of his to work on! Endless sadness, I sit here at home on my own all day! I have hung the large portraits of Lev Nik. on the walls. But they don’t speak to me. There are so many of them—they’re everywhere!
24th. Today I have been vividly recalling the events surrounding Lev Nik.’s last days, and despite all the anguish I feel it could not have been otherwise, it was foreordained.
27th. Went to Lev Nik.’s grave and wept inconsolably. I thought about my daughter Sasha. She must be so lonely among all those strangers, poor thing. She has left her mother, her brothers don’t love her—even her dogs come to see me, especially Belka, but she never pays her grieving mother a visit.
4th April. We read aloud my son Lyova’s letters from America.* I went to bed, then got up and talked to Lev Nik.’s translator Halpérine, and read some of his article about his departure.
10th. A warm, windy day; I went out for the first time—to Lev Nikolaevich’s grave of course. In the distance they were ringing the church bells, and ‘Christ is Risen!’ rang out over Russia. But in the forest and beside the grave there was silence, and the wind shook the withered wreaths as I prayed and wept. Then I sat in silence for a long time on a board that had been laid on a tree stump. Did Christ rise in my beloved husband’s heart when he cruelly left me and his home, and disinherited his poor sons and their families? May the Lord forgive him!
14th. My daughter Tanya arrived at 5 this morning, full of energy, common sense and sympathy as always. She has gone off to see Sasha in Telyatinki.
16th. My son Seryozha arrived. I had a good day resting my soul with people I love; my health seems better too. We had a cosy evening together—Seryozha, Tanya, Maria Schmidt, Yulia Igumnova, Andryusha, his Katya and I.
20th. How uninteresting my life is! I went out twice to visit the grave and couldn’t find the fence—they’ve broken the lock again. I read some Chekhov—very clever, but he sneers a lot and I don’t like that.
A fine morning, then a thunderstorm and a short, fierce shower. I haven’t been crying recently—I’ve grown cold, my life is a matter of endurance. “To live is to submit!” according to Fet.
21st. I read some unpleasant news in the papers today: the Palace of Justice has decided to destroy Volumes 16, 19 and 20 of my edition.* This is extremely annoying and means huge financial losses.
25th (Moscow). I went to the Palace of Justice and asked Stepanov the procurator to speed up the decision of my case concerning the seizure of the 3 volumes of the new edition.* He promised to send the decision to Sidorov, the chief censor. I then went to the Censorship Committee, where Sidorov promised to remove the ban the moment he received the court’s decision.
27th. Visited the censorship inspector at Chernyshevsky Street, then on to the Censorship Committee. They are doing all they can, and the ban on the books will be lifted tomorrow; Chefranov was here and I have assigned him to reprint the three volumes.* I worked on Volume 20 until 2 in the morning.
29th (St Petersburg). I was met by Andryusha and my sister Tanya. Everything’s so friendly and informal at the Kuzminskys’. I wrote to Countess Geiden, a maid-of-honour, about gaining an audience with the Empress, Maria Fyodorovna.
30th. Countess Geiden visited. The Empress has refused me an audience.*
1st May. Crowds of visitors. This evening was the first meeting of the Society of the Tolstoy Museum. My son Seryozha came too; he is president, I am an honorary member. A lot of dull speeches.
2nd. I visited the Winter Palace to see Naryshkina, a lady-in-waiting, and asked her to arrange an audience with the Tsar. She promised rather feebly.
3rd. Spent the morning at home, then visited Minister P.A. Stolypin; my sister Tanya came too. He understands the necessity of buying Yasnaya Polyana and giving me the manuscripts, but is afraid to announce this to the Tsar, especially now, with this new “religious” spirit at court.
5th. A lot of guests. At 8.30 this evening I visited Minister Kokovtsov about the purchase of Yasnaya Polyana.
6th. Visited my lawyer Shubinsky this morning, who promised to defend me if Sasha takes the matter to court. I am writing to Naryshkina about an audience with the Tsar in Tsarskoe Selo, and to Stolypin and the Tsar explaining the main points of my case. I cannot bear the thought of losing Yasnaya Polyana.
7th. Stayed at home and wrote to the Tsar and Minister Stolypin. Drove around town with Tanya. I’m being pestered by journalists; I miss home and long to get back and see the grave again. The sale of Yasnaya Polyana is tormenting me.
8th. My trip to Tsarskoe Selo didn’t take place; Naryshkina wrote to say it had to be cancelled because of the arrival of Grand Duchess Elizaveta Fyodorovna, but she will see me on Tuesday in the Winter Palace. So annoying! I want to go home as soon as possible. Mitya Olsufiev was here, and S.P. Auerbach. I mended sheets for Tanya and am staying at home.
10th. Went to the Winter Palace to see Naryshkina. She was most affable and gave me a copy of her memoirs, and undertook to give the Tsar my letter.* I left for Moscow this evening.
12th (Moscow). I gave the printers all the material for the reprinting of the 3 previously banned volumes.
13th. Visited the Duma and talked to Guchkov about the sale of the Moscow house.* It breaks my heart to destroy all my nests, which contain so many memories of a full and happy life.
15th. Didn’t go to the grave—there were too many visitors, and Lyovochka and I need to be alone together.
16th. Went to the grave, laid a bunch of wild flowers there and sat for a long time weeping and praying. My life is over, I am numb and indifferent to everything, my soul is heavy with suffering.
17th. I read about my Lyovochka in the books by Bulgakov, Lazursky, Rolland, Maude and the others. It’s all wrong, all wrong!
24th. Worked on my photographs. Very tired. Visited the grave. Every time I go I weep, as if I were responsible for my husband’s death. But how passionately I loved my Lyovochka—to the very last moment of his life! What happened is a complete mystery, we will never understand it.
28th. Photography all morning. This afternoon my son Seryozha arrived with Bogdanov, secretary of the Tolstoy Society in Moscow, and
played some Chopin and Schumann beautifully.
30th. A lot of visitors to the grave and the estate. Spent the evening knitting, and listening with an aching heart to the gramophone.
6th June. Read an old French book called De l’Amour*—naive and insubstantial, but the language is beautiful. Copied my daily diaries.
9th (Moscow). Dined at the Praga restaurant. A pleasant conversation with the artist Nesterov and a friendly meeting with Alexei Maklakov. This evening Biryukov visited.
10th. Went shopping, finished my business in Moscow, looked at a little house I might buy after selling this one. A hot, bright day. Left this evening for Yasnaya. I gave photographs to Mey for his album.
11th. Painfully sad homecoming to a deserted Yasnaya Polyana. A nasty scene with the Circassian guard, who had robbed a woman in the village of her grass; I ordered him to give it back.
15th. Some valuers from Tula and St Petersburg came to look over the estate. Endless bustle all day. The plan is for me to move to the Kuzminskys’ wing.* Everything is different, life is in decline, and it’s all very hard.
