reminiscences of tolstoy-第4部分

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〃There　was　a　bit　of　yesterday's　oatmeal　left　over。〃

〃I　thought　as　much！　　All　the　hares　will　get　away　again。　　It　really　is　too　bad！　　Do　you　do　it　to　spite　me？〃

〃You　can't　have　the　dogs　running　all　day　on　empty　stomachs；　Lyoff　Nikolaievich；〃　she　grunted；　going　angrily　to　put　on　the　dogs'　collars。

At　last　the　dogs　were　got　together；　some　of　them　on　leashes；　others　running　free；　and　we　would　ride　out　at　a　brisk　trot　past　Bitter　Wells　and　the　grove　into　the　open　country。

My　father　would　give　the　word　of　command；　〃Line　out！〃　and　point　out　the　direction　in　which　we　were　to　go；　and　we　spread　out　over　the　stubble　fields　and　meadows；　whistling　and　winding　about　along　the　lee　side　of　the　steep　balks；　＇8＇　beating　all　the　bushes　with　our　hunting…crops；　and　gazing　keenly　at　every　spot　or　mark　on　the　earth。

　＇8＇　The　balks　are　the　banks　dividing　the　fields　of　different　owners　or　crops。　　Hedges　are　not　used　for　this　purpose　in　Russia。


Something　white　would　appear　ahead。　　We　stared　hard　at　it；　gathered　up　the　reins；　examined　the　leash；　scarcely　believing　the　good　luck　of　having　come　on　a　hare　at　last。　　Then　riding　up　closer　and　closer；　with　our　eyes　on　the　white　thing；　it　would　turn　out　to　be　not　a　hare　at　all；　but　a　horse's　skull。　　How　annoying！

We　would　look　at　papa　and　Seryozha；　thinking；　〃I　wonder　if　they　saw　that　I　took　that　skull　for　a　hare。〃　　But　papa　would　be　sitting　keen　and　alert　on　his　English　saddle；　with　the　wooden　stirrups；　smoking　a　cigarette；　while　Seryozha　would　perhaps　have　got　his　leash　entangled　and　could　not　get　it　straight。

〃Thank　heaven！〃　we　would　exclaim；　〃nobody　saw　me！　　What　a　fool　I　should　have　felt！〃　　So　we　would　ride　on。

The　horse's　even　pace　would　begin　to　rock　us　to　sleep；　feeling　rather　bored　at　nothing　getting　up；　when　all　of　a　sudden；　just　at　the　moment　we　least　expected　it；　right　in　front　of　us；　twenty　paces　away；　would　jump　up　a　gray　hare　as　if　from　the　bowels　of　the　earth。

The　dogs　had　seen　it　before　we　had；　and　had　started　forward　already　in　full　pursuit。　　We　began　to　bawl；　〃Tally…ho！　tally…ho！〃　like　madmen；　flogging　our　horses　with　all　our　might；　and　flying　after　them。

The　dogs　would　come　up　with　the　hare；　turn　it；　then　turn　it　again；　the　young　and　fiery　Sultan　and　Darling　running　over　it；　catching　up　again；　and　running　over　again；　and　at　last　the　old　and　experienced　Winger；　who　had　been　galloping　on　one　side　all　the　time；　would　seize　her　opportunity；　and　spring　in。　　The　hare　would　give　a　helpless　cry　like　a　baby；　and　the　dogs；　burying　their　fangs　in　it；　in　a　star…shaped　group；　would　begin　to　tug　in　different　directions。

〃Let　go！　　Let　go！〃

We　would　come　galloping　up；　finish　off　the　hare；　and　give　the　dogs　the　tracks；　＇9＇　tearing　them　off　toe　by　toe；　and　throwing　them　to　our　favorites；　who　would　catch　them　in　the　air。　Then　papa　would　teach　us　how　to　strap　the　hare　on　the　back　of　the　saddle。

　＇9＇　Pazanki；　tracks　of　a　hare；　name　given　to　the　last　joint　of　the　hind　legs。


After　the　run　we　would　all　be　in　better　spirits；　and　get　to　better　places　near　Yasenki　and　Retinka。　　Gray　hares　would　get　up　oftener。　　Each　of　us　would　have　his　spoils　in　the　saddle…straps　now；　and　we　would　begin　to　hope　for　a　fox。

Not　many　foxes　would　turn　up。　　If　they　did；　it　was　generally　Tumashka；　who　was　old　and　staid；　who　distinguished　himself。　　He　was　sick　of　hares；　and　made　no　great　effort　to　run　after　them；　but　with　a　fox　he　would　gallop　at　full　speed；　and　it　was　almost　always　he　who　killed。

It　would　be　late；　often　dark；　when　we　got　back　home。



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　〃ANNA　KAReNINA〃

I　REMEMBER　my　father　writing　his　alphabet　and　reading…book　in　1871　and　1872；　but　I　cannot　at　all　remember　his　beginning　〃Anna　Karenina。〃　　I　probably　knew　nothing　about　it　at　the　time。　What　did　it　matter　to　a　boy　of　seven　what　his　father　was　writing？　It　was　only　later；　when　one　kept　hearing　the　name　again　and　again；　and　bundles　of　proofs　kept　arriving；　and　were　sent　off　almost　every　day；　that　I　understood　that　〃Anna　Karenina〃　was　the　name　of　the　novel　on　which　my　father　and　mother　were　both　at　work。

My　mother's　work　seemed　much　harder　than　my　father's；　because　we　actually　saw　her　at　it；　and　she　worked　much　longer　hours　than　he　did。　　She　used　to　sit　in　the　sitting…room　off　the　zala；　at　her　little　writing…table；　and　spend　all　her　free　time　writing。

Leaning　over　the　manuscript　and　trying　to　decipher　my　father's　scrawl　with　her　short…sighted　eyes；　she　used　to　spend　whole　evenings　over　it；　and　often　sat　up　late　at　night　after　everybody　else　had　gone　to　bed。　　Sometimes；　when　anything　was　written　quite　illegibly；　she　would　go　to　my　father's　study　and　ask　him　what　it　meant。　　But　this　was　very　rare；　because　my　mother　did　not　like　to　disturb　him。

When　it　happened；　my　father　used　to　take　the　manuscript　in　his　hand；　and　ask　with　some　annoyance；　〃What　on　earth　is　the　difficulty？〃　and　would　begin　to　read　it　out　aloud。　　When　he　came　to　the　difficult　place　he　would　mumble　and　hesitate；　and　sometimes　had　the　greatest　difficulty　in　making　out；　or；　rather；　in　guessing；　what　he　had　written。　　He　had　a　very　bad　handwriting；　and　a　terrible　habit　of　writing　in　whole　sentences　between　the　lines；　or　in　the　corners　of　the　page；　or　sometimes　right　across　it。

My　mother　often　discovered　gross　grammatical　errors；　and　pointed　them　out　to　my　father；　and　corrected　them。

When　〃Anna　Karenina〃　began　to　come　out　in　the　〃Russky　Vyestnik；〃　＇10＇　long　galley…proofs　were　posted　to　my　father；　and　he　looked　them　through　and　corrected　them。

＇10＇　A　Moscow　monthly；　founded　by　Katkof；　who　somehow　managed　to　edit　both　this　and　the　daily　〃Moskovskiya　Vyedomosti；〃　on　which　〃Uncle　Kostya〃　worked　at　the　same　time。


At　first　the　margins　would　be　marked　with　the　ordinary　typographical　signs；　letters　omitted；　marks　of　punctuation；　etc。；　then　individual　words　would　be　changed；　and　then　whole　sentences；　till　in　the　end　the　proof…sheet　would　be　reduced　to　a　mass　of　patches　quite　black　in　places；　and　it　was　quite　impossible　to　send　it　back　as　it　stood；　because　no　one　but　my　mother　could　make　head　or　tail　of　the　tangle　of　conventional　signs；　transpositions；　and　erasures。

My　mother　would　sit　up　all　night　copying　the　whole　thing　out　afresh。

In　the　morning　there　would　lie　the　pages　on　her　table；　neatly　piled　together；　covered　all　over　with　her　fine；　clear　handwriting；　and　everything　ready　so　that　when　〃Lyovotchka〃　got　up　he　could　send　the　proof…sheets　off　by　post。


My　father　carried　them　off　to　his　study　to　have　〃just　one　last　look；〃　and　by　the　evening　it　would　be　just　as　bad　again；　the　whole　thing　having　been　rewritten　and　messed　up。

〃Sonya　my　dear；　I　am　very　sorry；　but　I've　spoiled　all　your　work　again；　I　promise　I　won't　do　it　any　more；〃　he　would　say；　showing　her　the　passages　he　had　inked　over　with　a　guilty　air。　〃We'll　send　them　off　to…morrow　without　fail。〃　　But　this　to…morrow　was　often　put　off　day　by　day　for　weeks　or　months　together。

〃There's　just　one　bit　I　want　to　look　through　again；〃　my　father　would　say；　but　he　would　get　carried　away　and　recast　the　whole　thing　afresh。

There　were　even　occasions　when；　after　posting　the　proofs；　he　would　remember　some　particular　words　next　day；　and　correct　them　by　telegraph。　　Several　times；　in　consequence　of　these　rewritings；　the　printing　of　the　novel　in　the　〃Russky　Vyestnik〃　was　interrupted；　and　sometimes　it　did　not　come　out　for　months　together。

In　the　last　part　of　〃Anna　Karenina〃　my　father；　in　describing　the　end　of　VRONSKY'S　career；　showed　his　disapproval　of　the　volunteer　movement　and　the　Panslavonic　committees；　and　this　led　to　a　quarrel　with　Katkof。

I　can　remember　how　angry　my　father　was　when　Katkof　refused　to　print　those　chapters　as　they　stood；　and　asked　him　either　to　leave　out　part　of　them　or　to　soften　them　down；　and　finally　returned　the　manuscript；　and　printed　a　short　note　in　his　paper　to　say　that　after　the　death　of　the　heroine　the　novel　was　strictly　speaking　at　an　end；　but　that　the　author　had　added　an　epilogue　of　two　printed　sheets；　in　which　he　related　such　and　such　facts；　and　he　would　very　likely　〃develop　these　chapters　for　the　separate　edition　of　his　novel。〃

In　concluding；　I　wish　to　say　a　few　words　about　my　father's　own　opinion　of　〃Anna　Karenina。〃

In　1875　he　wrote　to　N。　N。　Strakhof：

〃I　must　confess　that　I　was　delighted　by　the　success　of　the　last　piece　of　'Anna　Karenina。'　　I　had　by　no　means　expected　it；　and　to　tell　you　the　truth；　I　am　surprised　that　people　are　so　pleased　with　such　ordinary　and　EMPTY　stuff。〃

The　same　year　he　wrote　to　Fet：

〃It　is　two　months　since　I　have　defiled　my　hands　with　ink　or　my　heart　with　thoughts。　　But　now　I　am　setting　to　work　again　on　my　TEDIOUS；　VULGAR　'ANNA　KARENINA；'　with　only　one　wish；　to　clear　it　out　of　the　way　as　soon　as　possible　and　give　myself　leisure　for　other　occupations；　but　not　schoolmastering；　which　I　am　fond　of；　but　wish　to　give　up；　it　takes　up　too　much　time。〃

In　1878；　when　the　novel　was　nearing　its　end；　he　wrote　again　to　Strakhof：

〃I　am　frightened　by　the　feeling　that　I　am　getting　into　my　summer　mood　again。　　I　LOATHE　what　I　have　written。　　The　proof…sheets　for　the　April　number　＇of　〃Anna　Karenina〃　in　the　〃Russky　Vyestnik〃＇　now　lie　on　my　table；　and　I　am　afraid　that　I　have　not　the　heart　to　correct　them。　EVERYTHING　in　them　is　BEASTLY；　and　the　whole　thing　ought　to　be　rewritten；all　that　has　been　printed；　too；scrapped　and　melted　down；　thrown　away；　renounced。　　I　ought　to　say；　'I　am　sorry；　I　will　not　do　it　any　more；'　and　try　to　write　something　fresh　instead　of　all　this　incoherent；　neither…fish…nor…flesh…　nor…fowlish　stuff。〃

That　was　how　my　father　felt　toward　his　novel　while　he　was　writing　it。　　Afterward　I　often　heard　him　say　much　harsher　things　about　it。

〃What　difficulty　is　there　in　writing　about　how　an　officer　fell　in　love　with　a　married　woman？〃　he　used　to　say。　　〃There's　no　difficulty　in　it；　and　above　all　no　good　in　it。〃

I　am　quite　convinced　that　if　my　father　could　have　done　so；　he　long　ago　would　have　destroyed　this　novel；　which　he　never　liked　and　always　wanted　to　disown。


　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　（To　be　continued）



　　　　　　　　　　　　REMINISCENCES　OF　TOLSTOY


　　　　　　　　　BY　HIS　SON；　COUNT　ILYA　TOLSTOY


　　　　　　　　　　　　　TRANSLATED　BY　GEORGE　CALDERON

IN　the　summer；　when　both　families　were　together　at　Yasnaya；　our　own　and　the　Kuzmins