14th March. Friday — St. Petersburg
In yesterday's order for the guards' crew, the officers were outlined according to the courts. On the frigate "Duke of Edinburgh", on which my father intends to send me as a senior lieutenant to circumnavigate the world, midshipmen have been appointed: both Stelimans, Prince Shcherbatov, Nilov, Prince Baryatinsky, Arsenyev, Count Tolstoy, and Prince Dondukov-Korsakov. They're saying that A. V. Menshikov will be the second lieutenant on the "Duke". I am glad that during the three-year voyage I will live among good, familiar, and friendly people. All my dreams have come true; it remains to thank God that I won't leave society comrades with whom I have lived for almost ten years.—It's just a pity that Poretsky and Dzhanger didn't get on the "Duke". Last Tuesday, at the party of Countess Annette Komarovskaya, Turgenev was telling me about the most recent and not completely finished picture by Kuindzhi; he described it so artistically that I certainly wanted to compare the story with the original myself. Yesterday Ilya Alexandrovich and I went to find Kuindzhi's workshop, he lives on Vasilievsky Island, on Maly Prospekt, f[loor]. 16, r[oom]. 4. Barely found the workshop after crawling through different corners for a quarter of an hour. It is situated beneath the roof itself and, probably, was converted for photography. Kuindzhi himself is short, fat, with a big blond head and lively blue eyes. He did not know me and looked at me with some surprise, especially since he did not expect to find an art lover beneath a naval uniform. However, he very politely invited us into the studio and put us in front of his painting. I was sort of frozen in place. I saw before me the image of a wide river; a full moon illuminates it for a long distance, about thirty versts. I experienced this feeling when I went out on an elevated hill, from which in the distance a majestic river illuminated by the moon is visible. It takes your breath away, you can't tear yourself away from the dazzling, magical image, the soul yearns. In Kuindzhi's painting all this is expressed, at the sight of it you also feel that you are in front of a real river, shining with a bright light in the middle of the night's darkness. I told Kuindzhi that I was buying his wonderful work; I deeply loved this painting and would sacrifice a lot for it. All day afterwards, when I closed my eyes I saw this picture.
15th March. Saturday —2nd w[ee]k of fasting
I was afraid for Olya all this day. I consider the fifteenth to be fatal. Eugene died on the fifteenth, Gavrishev—on the fifteenth, Vyacheslav also on the fifteenth. There is still no news about Olya's deliverance from burden. Yulia Feodorovna Abaza invited me to a musical morning. They played an excerpt from the opera "The Demon"by A. Rubinstein. The author himself accompanied on piano. A. V. Panaeva sang the part of Tamara, the Demon was sung by Ryanishnikov. Elena of Mecklenburg sang the Angel. [They] played the first scene of the first act and the entire last act. I found that the music of "The Demon" is better in a room compared with a theatre. "The Demon" is certainly very difficult to stage well. Beginning with the figure of the Demon itself and [continuing with] the whole setting. This opera is wasted on a stage—Pryanishnikov was very good; his voice was remarkably pleasant and his manner of singing also...
16th March. Sunday
The Empress' health is getting worse and worse, Botkin has little hope. The divorce was refused. Prince Orlov, our ambassador to France, has arrived in St. Petersburg. He listened to obednya with us. They sang beautifully...
17th March. Monday
The day of St. Alexei Man of God, the name day of A. V. Menshikov. I gave him a black silver pig with red eyes, it is presently in great use and called porte-bonheur...On Friday I planned an evening, again on behalf of Mama and in her rooms. This time the bait will be I. S. Turgenev. Eugenie [sic] will arrive with her husband, Varvara Ilinichna, Tatiana Mikhailovna, Ms. Naryshkina, Ms. Mukhortova etc.
19th March. Wednesday
The people from my company assigned to Power were sent to Krondstadt today. Vereshchagin's paintings were exhibited in the Concert Hall of the Winter Palace, where they were viewed by the Sovereign. I heard that he was dissatisfied with Vershchagin's direction and did not want to see him. There was an invalid concert at the Bolshoi Theatre. I spent a lovely evening with Vera Vasilievna Butakova: she promised to introduce me to Tchaikovsky, our best composer, and invited him too. Also there were his brother Anatoli, Apukhtin, and Shcherbatov. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky looks to be about 35 years old, though his face and greying hair give him an older appearance. He is small, rather thin, with a short beard and gentle intelligent eyes. His movements, manner of speaking and his whole appearance expose an extremely well-mannered, educated, and kind person. He was brought up at the law school, was very unhappy in family life and is now exclusively engaged in music. Apukhtin is known for his exorbitant thickness and beautiful poetic works, which he never agrees to print: he remembers and recites them by heart. Vera Vasilievna begged him to recite something to us; he recited "Venice", his little-known poem. It is so good that, as he speaks, you become afraid that it will end soon, you would like to listen to it again and again. I was forced to play; I wanted to play a Tchaikovsky romance but was afraid. His brother sings; I accompanied him with "A Tear Trembles", then I played "No, only the one knew" and then a romance B-molle[sic?]. P. Tchaikovsky was asked to play something from his new, as yet unpublished opera "Joan of Arc", he sat behind the piano and played a chorus prayer. We were all in ecstasy from the wonderful music, this was the moment when the people recognised a prophetic gift in Joan and she addresses the crowd, offering her exultant prayer to the Lord God. The form of the composition resembles the prayer of the 1st act of Lohengrin: the voices gradually rise, and finally, together with the orchestra, they reach the optissimo with the highest note. This morceau dénsemble should be extremely good and effective on stage. After dinner, Apukhtin read a few more verses of his composition. We parted at 2 o'clock—Tchaikovsky made the most pleasant impression on me.
22nd March. Saturday
This morning the Tsesarevich held a parade rehearsal in the manege of the Horse Guards. Mitya and I coped quite well with our duties as aides. After Verkhovsky's lecture I went to the company. I was at Varvara Ilinichna's, her son came, a charming little blond boy, sat on the floor and talked very freely. He definitely wants to write Russian history when he grows up. Yesterday evening with Turgenev was upsetting, he was suspected several times of thinking in a revolutionary direction, and though these conjectures are not at all solid, I cannot make Mama the target of vague, meaningless rumours for nothing. —As a consolation I began the evening with Dostoevsky, invited Evgenia, Varvara Ilinichna, Tatiana Mikhailovna. The evening was held in Mama's small study, and I sent out invitations on her behalf, though she could not come herself due to illness. Evgenia was very pleased with Dostoevsky, we talked with him all evening...
23rd March. Sunday
In the morning there was a rehearsal in the manege of the Horse Guards. Prayed very well at obednya. Then they dragged me to the Yacht Club, to ride on an Iceboat. I'm not a fan of all the exercises that the British call sport, and when the sport is also associated with cold, I completely lose heart. But it was awkward to refuse; sailing, although across the ice, involves the sea. I was very cold, I was almost late for dinner at the Sovereign's...
25th. Annunciation
The terrible day has come. Mitya and I were at the Horse Guards' manege by 11 o'clock, it was lavishly decorated with flags, cuirasses, pikes, and helmets. Although it was a little unpleasant for me to participate in the Horse Guards parade as a company commander in a guards carriage, it's still good to occasionally flaunt the beautiful white uniform, I know that it suits me more than all the others, some tell me that with a helmet on my head I look like Nicholas I. In the manege plenty of ladies, impatiently waiting for the spectacle, filled the boxes. Finally, all in full dress, we stood in our places. Generals began to ride up in order of ranks. The tense expectation of the Tsar's arrival increased with each passing moment. Finally, he appeared—"God Save the Tsar" sounded, and a thunderous "hurrah" resounded through the whole manege. The parade was very successful. The Sovereign was rather pleased. I diligently wrote down the music of my new romance, it's almost ready. In the Winter Palace in the concert hall at 6 o'clock the Sovereign had a big dinner for officers of the Cavalry Regiment; I was again in horse guards uniform. Sat between Novoseltsev and Seryozha Bibikov, Varvara Ilinichna's brother. Went to a charity concert made up exclusively of Tchaikovsky's works. Was in red uniform and was terribly embarrassed until the Tsarevna arrived and sat next to me. I had to hurry home, but she wouldn't release me, afraid of being left alone. Finally, we left together...
29th March — 4th w[ee]k of fasting.
I again want to start writing notes about the 10 days by Silistria; I don't know with what to start and in what form to describe...I read "Notes from the War of 77-78" by a regimental priest in the "Russian Bulletin".
30th March.
I'm writing late at night, under the impression of a delightfully spent evening: at mine were P. I. Tchaikovsky, Shcherbatov, and Nilov; the conversation, mainly, was about music and opera. We decided to invite Tchaikovsky to go with us on the "Duke" around the world; he really capitulates to our offer. But there is a major obstacle, whether the authorities will agree. It would be good if fate would arrange this matter.
31st March.
The other day they chose me to be an honorary member of the society for lovers of natural history, anthropology and ethnography—these Muscovites, probably, felt that I nurture tender feelings for Moscow.
Note: This is the last of an earlier batch of translations where I opted for total fidelity to the original even where it might prove awkward and detrimental to comprehension in English. Going forward, I've given myself a bit more artistic liberty and have broken entries into smaller paragraphs for convenience. Hopefully reading my translations will be a more enjoyable experience in future!
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