reminiscences of tolstoy-第2部分

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There　are　many　interesting　recollections　bound　up　with　the　memory　of　this　intelligent　and　original　woman。　　Most　of　them　are　associated　in　my　mind　with　my　father's　stories　about　her。　　He　could　always　catch　and　unravel　any　interesting　psychological　trait；　and　these　traits；　which　he　would　mention　incidentally；　stuck　firmly　in　my　mind。　　He　used　to　tell；　for　instance；　how　Agafya　Mikhailovna　complained　to　him　of　sleeplessness。

〃Ever　since　I　can　remember　her；　she　has　suffered　from　'a　birch…tree　growing　inside　me　from　my　belly　up；　it　presses　against　my　chest；　and　prevents　my　breathing。'

〃She　complains　of　her　sleeplessness　and　the　birch…tree　and　says：　'There　I　lay　all　alone　and　all　quiet；　only　the　clock　ticking　on　the　wall：　〃Who　are　you？　　What　are　you？　　Who　are　you？　What　are　you？〃　　And　I　began　to　think：　〃Who　am　I？　　What　am　I？〃　and　so　I　spent　the　whole　night　thinking　about　it。'

〃Why；　imagine　this　is　Socrates！　　'Know　thyself；'〃　said　my　father；　telling　the　story　with　great　enthusiasm。

In　the　summer…time　my　mother's　brother；　Styopa　（Stephen　Behrs）；　who　was　studying　at　the　time　in　the　school　of　jurisprudence；　used　to　come　and　stay　with　us。　　In　the　autumn　he　used　to　go　wolf…hunting　with　my　father　and　us；　with　the　borzois；　and　Agafya　Mikhailovna　loved　him　for　that。

Styopa's　examination　was　in　the　spring。　　Agafya　Mikhailovna　knew　about　it　and　anxiously　waited　for　the　news　of　whether　he　had　got　through。

Once　she　put　up　a　candle　before　the　eikon　and　prayed　that　Styopa　might　pass。　　But　at　that　moment　she　remembered　that　her　borzois　had　got　out　and　had　not　come　back　to　the　kennels　again。

〃Saints　in　heaven！　they'll　get　into　some　place　and　worry　the　cattle　and　do　a　mischief！〃　she　cried。　　〃'Lord；　let　my　candle　burn　for　the　dogs　to　come　back　quick；　and　I'll　buy　another　for　Stepan　Andreyevitch。'　　No　sooner　had　I　said　this　to　myself　than　I　heard　the　dogs　in　the　porch　rattling　their　collars。　　Thank　God！　they　were　back。　　That's　what　prayer　can　do。〃

Another　favorite　of　Agafya　Mikhailovna　was　a　young　man；　Misha　Stakhovitch；　who　often　stayed　with　us。

〃See　what　you　have　been　and　done　to　me；　little　Countess！〃　she　said　reproachfully　to　my　sister　Tanya：　〃you've　introduced　me　to　Mikhail　Alexandrovitch；　and　I've　fallen　in　love　with　him　in　my　old　age；　like　a　wicked　woman！〃

On　the　fifth　of　February；　her　name…day；　Agafya　Mikhailovna　received　a　telegram　of　congratulation　from　Stakhovitch。

When　my　father　heard　of　it；　he　said　jokingly　to　Agafya　Mikhailovna：

〃Aren't　you　ashamed　that　a　man　had　to　trudge　two　miles　through　the　frost　at　night　all　for　the　sake　of　your　telegram？〃

〃Trudge；　trudge？　　Angels　bore　him　on　their　wings。　　Trudge；　indeed！　　You　get　three　telegrams　from　an　outlandish　Jew　woman；〃　she　growled；　〃and　telegrams　every　day　about　your　Golokhvotika。　Never　a　trudge　then；　but　I　get　name…day　greetings；　and　it's　trudge！〃

And　one　could　not　but　acknowledge　that　she　was　right。　　This　telegram；　the　only　one　in　the　whole　year　that　was　addressed　to　the　kennels；　by　the　pleasure　it　gave　Agafya　Mikhailovna　was　far　more　important　of　course　than　this　news　or　the　about　a　ball　given　in　Moscow　in　honor　of　a　Jewish　banker's　daughter；　or　about　Olga　Andreyevna　Golokvastovy's　arrival　at　Yasnaya。

Agafya　Mikhailovna　died　at　the　beginning　of　the　nineties。　　There　were　no　more　hounds　or　sporting　dogs　at　Yasnaya　then；　but　till　the　end　of　her　days　she　gave　shelter　to　a　motley　collection　of　mongrels；　and　tended　and　fed　them。


　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　THE　HOME　OF　THE　TOLSTOYS

I　CAN　remember　the　house　at　Yasnaya　Polyana　in　the　condition　it　was　in　the　first　years　after　my　father's　marriage。

It　was　one　of　the　two…storied　wings　of　the　old　mansion…house　of　the　Princes　Volkonsky；　which　my　father　had　sold　for　pulling　down　when　he　was　still　a　bachelor。

From　what　my　father　has　told　me；　I　know　that　the　house　in　which　he　was　born　and　spent　his　youth　was　a　three…storied　building　with　thirty…six　rooms。　　On　the　spot　where　it　stood；　between　the　two　wings；　the　remains　of　the　old　stone　foundation　are　still　visible　in　the　form　of　trenches　filled　with　rubble；　and　the　site　is　covered　with　big　sixty…year…old　trees　that　my　father　himself　planted。

When　any　one　asked　my　father　where　he　was　born；　he　used　to　point　to　a　tall　larch　which　grew　on　the　site　of　the　old　foundations。

〃Up　there　where　the　top　of　that　larch　waves；〃　he　used　to　say；　〃that's　where　my　mother's　room　was；　where　I　was　born　on　a　leather　sofa。〃

My　father　seldom　spoke　of　his　mother；　but　when　he　did；　it　was　delightful　to　hear　him；　because　the　mention　of　her　awoke　an　unusual　strain　of　gentleness　and　tenderness　in　him。　　There　was　such　a　ring　of　respectful　affection；　so　much　reverence　for　her　memory；　in　his　words；　that　we　all　looked　on　her　as　a　sort　of　saint。

My　father　remembered　his　father　well；　because　he　was　already　nine　years　old　when　he　died。　　He　loved　him；　too；　and　always　spoke　of　him　reverently；　but　one　always　felt　that　his　mother's　memory；　although　he　had　never　known　her；　was　dearer　to　him；　and　his　love　for　her　far　greater　than　for　his　father。

Even　to　this　day　I　do　not　exactly　know　the　story　of　the　sale　of　the　old　house。　　My　father　never　liked　talking　about　it；　and　for　that　reason　I　could　never　make　up　my　mind　to　ask　him　the　details　of　the　transaction。　　I　only　know　that　the　house　was　sold　for　five　thousand　paper　rubles　＇3＇　by　one　of　his　relatives；　who　had　charge　of　his　affairs　by　power　of　attorney　when　he　was　in　the　Caucasus。

　＇3＇　About　3000。

It　was　said　to　have　been　done　in　order　to　pay　off　my　father's　gambling　debts。　　That　was　quite　true。

My　father　himself　told　me　that　at　one　time　he　was　a　great　card…player；　that　he　lost　large　sums　of　money；　and　that　his　financial　affairs　were　considerably　embarrassed。

The　only　thing　about　which　I　am　in　doubt　is　whether　it　was　with　my　father's　knowledge　or　by　his　directions　that　the　house　was　sold；　or　whether　the　relative　in　question　did　not　exceed　his　instructions　and　decide　on　the　sale　of　his　own　initiative。

My　father　cherished　his　parents'　memory　to　such　an　extent；　and　had　such　a　warm　affection　for　everything　relating　to　his　own　childhood；　that　it　is　hard　to　believe　that　he　would　have　raised　his　hand　against　the　house　in　which　he　had　been　born　and　brought　up　and　in　which　his　mother　had　spent　her　whole　life。

Knowing　my　father　as　I　do；　I　think　it　is　highly　possible　that　he　wrote　to　his　relative　from　the　Caucasus；　〃Sell　something；〃　not　in　the　least　expecting　that　he　would　sell　the　house；　and　that　he　afterward　took　the　blame　for　it　on　himself。　　Is　that　not　the　reason　why　he　was　always　so　unwilling　to　talk　about　it？

In　1871；　when　I　was　five　years　old；　the　zala　＇4＇　and　study　were　built　on　the　house。

＇4＇　The　zala　is　the　chief　room　of　a　house；　corresponding　to　the　English　drawing…room；　but　on　a　grand　scale。　　The　gostinayaliterally　guest…room；　usually　translated　as　drawing…roomis　a　place　for　more　intimate　receptions。　　At　Yasnaya　Polyana　meals　were　taken　in　the　zala；　but　this　is　not　the　general　Russian　custom；　houses　being　provided　also　with　a　stolovaya；　or　dining…　room。


The　walls　of　the　zala　were　hung　with　old　portraits　of　ancestors。　　They　were　rather　alarming；　and　I　was　afraid　of　them　at　first；　but　we　got　used　to　them　after　a　time；　and　I　grew　fond　of　one　of　them；　of　my　great…grandfather；　Ilya　Andreyevitch　Tolstoy；　because　I　was　told　that　I　was　like　him。

Beside　him　hung　the　portrait　of　another　great…grandfather；　Prince　Nikolai　Sergeyevitch　Volkonsky；　my　grandmother's　father；　with　thick；　black　eyebrows；　a　gray　wig；　and　a　red　kaftan。　＇5＇

＇5＇；　Kaftan；　a　long　coat　of　various　cuts；　including　military　and　naval　frock…coat；　and　the　long　gown　worn　by　coachmen。


This　Volkonsky　built　all　the　buildings　of　Yasnaya　Polyana。　　He　was　a　model　squire；　intelligent　and　proud；　and　enjoyed　the　great　respect　of　all　the　neighborhood。

On　the　ground　floor；　under　the　drawing…room；　next　to　the　entrance…hall；　my　father　built　his　study。　　He　had　a　semi…circular　niche　made　in　the　wall；　and　stood　a　marble　bust　of　his　favorite　dead　brother　Nikolai　in　it。　　This　bust　was　made　abroad　from　a　death…mask；　and　my　father　told　us　that　it　was　very　like；　because　it　was　done　by　a　good　sculptor；　according　to　his　own　directions。

He　had　a　kind　and　rather　plaintive　face。　　The　hair　was　brushed　smooth　like　a　child's；　with　the　parting　on　one　side。　　He　had　no　beard　or　mustache；　and　his　head　was　white　and　very；　very　clean。　　My　father's　study　was　divided　in　two　by　a　partition　of　big　bookshelves；　containing　a　multitude　of　all　sorts　of　books。　　In　order　to　support　them；　the　shelves　were　connected　by　big　wooden　beams；　and　between　them　was　a　thin　birch…wood　door；　behind　which　stood　my　father's　writing…table　and　his　old…fashioned　semicircular　arm…chair。

There　are　portraits　of　Dickens　and　Schopenhauer　and　Fet　＇6＇　as　a　young　man　on　the　walls；　too；　and　the　well…known　　group　of　writers　of　the　Sovremennik　＇7＇　circle　in　1856；　with　Turgenieff；　Ostrovsky；　Gontcharof；　Grigorovitch；　Druzhinin；　and　my　father；　quite　young　still；　without　a　beard；　and　in　uniform。

＇6＇　Afanasyi　Shenshin；　the　poet；　who　adopted　his　mother's　name；　Fet；　for　a　time；　owing　to　official　difficulties　about　his　birth…certificate。　　An　intimate　friend　of　Tolstoy's。　　　＇7＇　〃Sovremennik；〃　or　〃Contemporary　Review；〃　　edited　by　the　poet　Mekrasof；　was　the　rallying…place　for　the　〃men　of　the　forties；〃　the　new　school　of　realists。　　Ostrovsky　is　the　dramatist；　Gontcharof　the　novelist；　author　of　〃Oblomof〃；　Grigorovitch　wrote　tales　about　peasant　life；　and　was　the　discoverer　of　Tchekhof's　talent　as　a　serious　writer。


My　father　used　to　come　out　of　his　bedroom　of　a　morningit　was　in　a　corner　on　the　top　floorin　his　dressing…gown；　with　his　beard　uncombed　and　tumbled　together；　and　go　down　to　dress。

Soon　after　he　would　issue　from　his　study　fresh　and　vigorous；　in　a　gray　smock…frock；　and　would　go　up　into　the　zala　for　breakfast。　　That　was　our　dejeuner。

When　there　was　nobody　staying　in　the　house；　he　would　not　stop　long　in　the　drawing…room；　but　would　take　his　tumbler　of　tea　and　carry　it　off　to　his　study　with　him。

But　if　there　were　friends　and　guests　　with　us；　he　would　get　into　conversation；　become　interested；　and　could　not　tear　himself　away。

At　last　he　would　go　off　to　his　work；　and　we　would　disperse；　in　winter　to　the　different　school…rooms