III
Loskutnaya, on the Tverskoy (Room No. 33) Moscow, May 25–26, 1880.
My dear friend Anya, here is one more letter (I am writing after one o’clock in the morning). Perhaps you will receive it after my return (for I still intend leaving on Tuesday the 27th), but I write to you in any event, for circumstances are shaping so that I shall perhaps have to remain here for some time longer. But to begin at the beginning.
To-day, the 25th, at 5 o’clock, Lavrov and Nicolay Aksakov called on me and took me in their own carriage to the Hermitage restaurant. They were in frock-coats and I too went in a frock-coat although the dinner, as it turned out, was given expressly in my honour. At the Hermitage authors, professors, and men of letters, twenty-two of them altogether, already awaited us. The first thing Yuriev, who received me most ceremoniously, said was that many people had done their utmost to be present at the dinner, and if it had been postponed for one day only, hundreds of guests would have come. But it had been arranged too hastily, and now they are afraid that, when the many others come to hear about it, their reproaches will be bitter for not having been asked. There were present four professors of the University, one director of a public school, Polivanov (a friend of the Poushkin family), Ivan Sergueyevich Aksakov, Nicolay Aksakov, Nicolay Rubinstein (the Moscow one), etc., etc.
The dinner was arranged extraordinarily sumptuously. A whole reception room was engaged (at no small cost). The dinner was on such a luxurious scale that afterwards two hundred magnificent and expensive cigars appeared with the coffee and liqueurs. They order these things differently in Petersburg! Dried sturgeon, osiotr a yard long, a yard long stewed sterlet, turtle soup, strawberries, quails, wonderful asparagus, ice-cream, rivers of most exquisite wines and champagne. Six speeches (the speakers rising from their chairs) were made to me, some very long ones. They were by Yuriev, both Aksakovs, three of the professors and Nicolay Rubinstein. At dinner two congratulatory telegrams were received, one of them from a most respected professor who had been called away suddenly from Moscow. They spoke of my ‘great significance as an artist with “universal sympathy,”’ as a publicist and as a Russian. After that, an infinite number of toasts were given, at which all got up and came to me to touch glasses. Further details when we meet. All were in a state of rapture. I answered them all with a speech which went off very well and produced a great effect, by managing to switch on to Poushkin. This made a great impression.
Now for a most intolerable and most awkward business: a deputation from the ‘Lovers of Russian Literature’ called to-day on Prince Dolgorouky, and he declared that the opening of the memorial would take place between the first and fifth of June. Yet he did not fix a definite date. Now, of course, they are all in raptures, as the authors and certain delegations will not disperse, and although there will be no music and no theatrical performances, there will be meetings of the ‘Society of Lovers of Literature,’ speeches and dinners. But when I announced that I was going away on the 27th, there was an absolute storm: ‘We shan’t let you!’ Polivanov (who is on the Unveiling Committee of the Memorial), Yuriev and Aksakov declared aloud that all Moscow was buying tickets for the sittings, and all those who bought tickets (for the meetings of the ‘Lovers of Russian Literature’) asked when they took them (and sent to inquire several times): Will Dostoevsky speak? And as they could not tell at which meeting I was going to speak, at the first or at the second,—then they all began taking tickets for both meetings.
‘All Moscow will be offended and indignant with us, if you go away now,’ they said to me. I made the excuse that I must write the Karamazovs (and deliver the part for the June No.); they began in all seriousness to shout about sending a deputation to Katkov to ask him to postpone the date. I began saying that you and the children would be anxious if I were to remain here for so long, and then (perfectly seriously) they not only proposed sending you a telegram, but also a deputation to Staraya Roussa to ask you if I may remain here. I answered that to-morrow, that is, Monday the 26th, I’ll decide.
I am sitting here in terrible perplexity and uneasiness. On the one hand, there is the consolidation of my influence not in Petersburg alone, but also in Moscow, which matters a great deal; on the other, there is this being away from you, the difficulties about the Karamazovs (the writing and delivery on the appointed date to Katkov’s magazine), the expense, etc. Finally, although my ‘Word’ on Poushkin will now certainly be published, where is it to appear? I almost promised it, on Saturday, to Katkov. And in this case the ‘Lovers of Russian Literature’ and Yuriev will be saddened. If I give it to them, Katkov will be angry. I am still thinking of going away without fail, if not on the 27th, then on the 28th or 29th, as soon as Dolgorouky sends a notification of the exact date of the opening. Perhaps, I shall have to wait until that notification arrives. On the other hand, all that Dolgorouky has said as yet has been his personal opinion; he has not yet got the definite date from Petersburg. (I think he is going to Petersburg himself for a few days.) So suppose I remained till June 5th, and then there suddenly came an order to postpone everything till the 10th or 15th, should I still have to wait here? To-morrow I shall tell Yuriev, that I am going on the 27th, that only in the case of definite and serious circumstances I shall remain. At any rate, I am in awful perplexity now.
After dinner I called at Elena Pavlovna’s but found nothing from you. Certainly it is still early for letters from Roussa, but shall I really receive none to-morrow? With Elena Pavlovna I drove off to Mashenka Ivanov and told her that I had dined with Rubinstein; she was in raptures. At any rate, as soon as you receive this letter, answer me without fail: even if I leave, Elena Pavlovna will send on the letter, without opening it, to Roussa. So answer immediately, without fail. Elena Pavlovna’s absolutely exact address is: ‘Ostozhenka, borough of Voskresenye, in the house of Mme. Dmitrevsky, to be given to F. M. Dostoevsky.’ Should you want to telegraph, send either to Elena Pavlovna, or direct to me, Hotel Loskutnaya, on the Tverskoy,—I am certain to receive it. (Your letters you had better address to Elena Pavlovna.)
I was elected a member of the ‘Society of Lovers of Russian Literature’ as far back as a year ago, but the late secretary, Bezsonov, neglected to notify me about the election, for which they now apologise. I hold you firmly in my arms, my dear one. I kiss the children. I have strange and ominous dreams at night.
Wholly your F. DOSTOEVSKY.
P.S. — I think after all I shall put my foot down and leave on the 27th. True enough, I shall not be able to publish my speech then, for it will not have the value of a speech, it will only be an article. This must be thought out.
[On the margin is the following.] I made a good speech.
I embrace you once again. Kiss the children, tell them about their Daddy.