“Dear Friend,—Your letter gave me food for reflection. You are quite right: property is a burden, and only he who owns nothing is quite free. But, on the other hand, one must have a home. If I could live in Moscow, I should rent a house there. But it is not sufficient to rent a place in the country if one wants to feel at home. Here in Maidanovo, for instance, I have already found it very unpleasant to have my landlady living close by. I cannot plant the flowers I like, nor cut down a tree that obstructs my view. I cannot prevent people from walking in front of my windows, because there are other houses let in the park. I think, with my reserved character and nature, it would be better to have a little house and garden of my own....
“The Russian solitudes of which you speak do not frighten me. One can always take a great store of books and newspapers from town, and, moreover, I am very simple in my tastes.
“I do not at all agree with your idea that in our country it must always be horrid, dark, marshy, etc. Even as the Esquimaux, or the Samoyede, loves his icy northern land, I love our Russian scenery more than any other, and a Russian landscape in winter has an incomparable charm for me. This does not hinder me in the least from liking Switzerland or Italy, in a different way. To-day I find it particularly difficult to agree with you about the poverty of our Russian scenery: it is a bright, sunny day, and the snow glistens like millions of diamonds. A wide vista lies before my window.... No! it is beautiful here in this land of ours, and one breathes so easily under this boundless horizon.
“It seems to me you think too gloomily, too despairingly, of Russia. Undoubtedly there is much to be wished for here, and all kinds of deceit and disorder do still exist. But where will you find perfection? Can you point out any country in Europe where everyone is perfectly contented? There was a time when I was convinced that for the abolishment of autocracy and the introduction of law and order, political institutions, such as parliaments, chambers of deputies, etc., were indispensable, and that it was only necessary to introduce these reforms with great caution, then all would turn out well, and everyone would be quite happy. But now, although I have not yet gone over to the camp of the ultra-conservatives, I am very doubtful as to the actual utility of these reforms. When I observe what goes on in other countries, I see everywhere discontent, party conflict and hatred; everywhere—in a greater or less degree—the same disorder and tyranny prevails. Therefore I am driven to the conclusion that there is no ideal government, and, until the end of the world, men will have to endure in patience many disappointments with regard to these things. From time to time great men—benefactors of mankind—appear, who rule justly and care more for the common welfare than for their own. But these are very exceptional. Therefore I am firmly convinced that the welfare of the great majority is not dependent upon principles and theories, but upon those individuals who, by the accident of their birth, or for some other reason, stand at the head of affairs. In a word, mankind serves man, not a personified principle. Now arises the question: Have we a man upon whom we can stake our hopes? I answer, Yes, and this man is the Emperor. His personality fascinates me; but, apart from personal impressions, I am inclined to think that the Emperor is a good man. I am pleased with the caution with which he introduces the new and does away with the old order. It pleases me, too, that he does not seek popularity; and I take pleasure also in his blameless life, and in the fact that he is an honourable and good man. But perhaps my politics are only the naïveté of a man who stands aloof from everyday life and is unable to see beyond his own profession.”
To E. K. Pavlovskaya.
“Maidanovo, March 14th (26th), 1885.
“I am now arranging the revised score of Vakoula, orchestrating the new numbers and correcting the old. I hope to have finished in a few weeks. The opera will be called Cherevichek,[104] to distinguish it from the numerous other Vakoulas: Soloviev’s and Stchourovsky’s for instance. The authorities have promised to produce the opera in Moscow; it will hardly be possible in Petersburg, as they have already accepted two new operas there.
“As to The Captain’s Daughter,[105] if only I could find a clever librettist, capable of carrying out such a difficult task, I would begin the work with pleasure. Meanwhile I have made a note of The Enchantress, by Shpajinsky. The latter has already started upon the libretto. He will make many alterations and, if I am not mistaken, it will make a splendid background for the music. You will find it your most suitable rôle. If Les Caprices d’Oxane should be produced, you will continue to play the part of my ‘benefactress,’ for you give me incredibly more than I give you. But if, with God’s help, I achieve The Enchantress, I hope I may become your benefactor in some degree. Here you shall have a fine opportunity to display your art.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo, April 3rd (15th), 1885.