VI
On August 7th Tchaikovsky finished the third act of The Maid of Orleans and, suffering from physical and nervous exhaustion, left Kamenka for Simaki,69 as Nadejda von Meck was occupying her house at Brailov.
To N. F. von Meck.
“I am enchanted. I could not imagine more beautiful surroundings. The garden in which I have just been walking with Pakhulsky has surpassed all my expectations. The house is a splendid retreat! If you only realised how much I am in need just now of all the comforts which I get as your guest in this delightful spot!
“I intend to finish the orchestration of the last act of my opera while I am here, and shall begin work to-morrow. I shall get this heavy burden off my shoulders, and then I can draw breath and enjoy the incomparable sensation of having completed a long work.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Simaki, August 9th (21st), 1879.
“I hasten to send you my first impressions of this place. A very, very old house, a shady garden with ancient oaks and lime trees; it is very secluded, but therein lies its charm. At the end of the garden flows a stream. From the verandah there is a fine view over the village and the forests. The absolute quiet and comfort of the place exactly suit my taste and requirements. I have at my disposal an old manservant called Leon, a cook whom I never see, and a coachman with a phaeton and four horses. I could gladly dispense with the last, since it necessitates my driving occasionally, while in reality I prefer to walk. The proximity of Nadejda Filaretovna troubles me somewhat, although it is really folly. I know my seclusion will not be disturbed. I am so accustomed to regard her as a kind of remote and invisible genius that the consciousness of her mortal presence in my neighbourhood is rather disconcerting. Yesterday I met Pakhulsky, who spent part of the evening with me. But I told him plainly that I wanted to be left quite alone for a few days.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“August 11th (23rd), 1879.
“Pakhulsky told me that next time he came he was to bring Milochka70 with him. I am very fond of Milochka; it is a pleasure to look at the photograph of her charming face. I am sure she is a dear, sweet, sympathetic child. I love children, and could only say ‘yes’ to such a proposal. But what I could not say to Pakhulsky I can say to you.
“Forgive me, dear friend, and make fun of my mania if you like—but I am not going to invite Milochka here, for this reason: my relations towards you—as they exist at present—are my chief happiness, and of the greatest importance to my well-being. I do not want them altered by a hair’s breadth. The whole charm and poetry of our friendship lies in your being so near and so dear to me, while at the same time I do not know you at all in the ordinary sense of the word. This condition of things must extend to your nearest belongings. I will love Milochka as I have hitherto loved you. If she appeared before me—le charme serait rompu!
“Every member of your family is dear to me—particularly Milochka—yet for God’s sake let everything remain as it has been. What could I say if she asked me why I never went to see her mother? I should have to open our acquaintance with a lie. This would be a grief to me, even though it were a trifling falsehood. Pardon my frankness, dear and noble friend....
“If you have Beethoven’s Sonatas, be so kind as to send them to me.”
To Anatol Tchaikovsky.
“Simaki, August 18th (30th), 1879.
“Time slips away unobserved. Yesterday something very painful happened. About four o’clock in the afternoon I was walking in the woods, feeling sure I should not meet Nadejda Filaretovna, because it was her dinner-hour. It chanced, however, that I went out a little earlier, and she was dining somewhat later, so we ran against each other quite by chance. It was an awkward predicament. Although we were only face to face for a moment, I felt horribly confused. However, I raised my hat politely. She seemed to lose her head entirely and did not know what to do. She was in one carriage with Milochka, and the whole family followed in two others. I wandered into the forest in search of mushrooms, and when I returned to the little table where tea was prepared for me, I found my letters and newspapers awaiting me. It appears she sent a man on horseback to look for me, so that I might get my post at tea-time.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Simaki, August 27th (September 8th), 1879.
“Now I can almost say finished! I have worked at The Maid of Orleans from the end of November (Florence) to the end of August (Simaki), just nine months. It is remarkable that I began and finished this opera as the guest of my dear friend.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“August 31st (September 12th), 1879.
“Do you not like such grey days as to-day? I love them. The beginning of autumn can only be compared to spring as regards beauty. It seems to me September, with its tender, melancholy colouring, has a special power to fill me with calm and happy feelings. Around Simaki there are many delightful spots which I like best to frequent at sunset, or on sunless days like to-day. For instance, if you turn to the right, past the kitchen garden, and take the lower path (parallel to the village) by the fen where the reeds grow. I am very fond of that spot. But by day the sun spoils the picturesque view of the village.
“At evening, too, or on a cloudy day, it is delightful to sit on some high-lying spot, and look over the old willows, or poplars, across to the village, with its modest church (what a charm is given to every rural landscape by these churches), and far away to the distant forests. I often spend an hour in this way....”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“August 31st (September 12th), 1879.
“I have just received a telegram from Anatol: ‘Have just been dismissed in consequence of an unpleasantness in my department. Most anxious to speak to you.’ I am starting for Petersburg at once. A great fear of the future possesses me. In spite of the many delightful moments spent here, I have had a continual foreboding of something unlucky, and always about Toly.”