JANUARY 16, 1913
Life in the army is going well. There’s only one cause for complaint. And it’s something very, very unpleasant. The company commander reads all the soldiers’ letters. He hasn’t opened my letters yet, and it seems he doesn’t intend to. But, in any case, be aware that it might happen at some point. At the first sign a letter has been tampered with, I’ll let you know. I sent a letter to my fellow student Korzhenko, asking him about the exams. I’ve already begun studying for them.
I’ll send you more details about my furlough when I know more myself. KATAV-IVANOVSKY IRONWORKS–MOSCOW JACOB TO MARUSYA
JANUARY 17, 1913
Yesterday evening, the sergeant major and I were lying in bed in the barracks. The conversation turned to the subject of conjugal life. He spoke very seriously, earnestly—my God, the things he told me! His manner was such that I started asking probing questions. Soon it turned into a question-and-answer session. I listened and I learned, and eagerly. Truly, Marusya, life itself, not just books, must be a source of learning.
I was only anxious about one thing—whether he would start asking questions, too. But it all turned out well. After I discovered what was most important for me to know, the discussion became less serious and lost its sense of urgency, and I said good night.
There was just one thing that struck me as strange—he thought that he was talking to a very experienced person. He didn’t notice, by my questions, how ill-informed I really was. Actually, I tried to appear very canny about everything. And, apparently, I pulled it off. MOSCOW–KATAV-IVANOVSKY IRONWORKS MARUSYA TO JACOB
JANUARY 15, 1913
5:00 a.m. I’ve just returned. I was at the “Wednesday,” and afterward a large, fascinating group of people came over to talk. Four interesting men, very intelligent, hovered around me for a long time. They like me. Do you understand, my Jacob, they like me! And I’m happy. It pleases me to hear about my lovely arms and hands, my eyes, that I’m divinely inspired, etc., etc. They say I have remarkable eyes, and I want to shout with joy, Jacob! It’s me, your wife, who has lovely eyes, and lips, and hands! I’m desired by all these elegant, refined men—and it makes me happy, simply happy—because you desire me.
Jacob, my dearest and best—there is no success or joy that can tear me away from my dreams for so much as a second. It makes me want you even more intensely. My God! My faith in you is so strong, so deep, it frightens me. You are my most profound, and everlasting, faith. So much so that I am scared by it.
It’s already daylight. I’m going to bed. I embrace you. No need to kiss my hand today.
Well, goodbye, beloved. My Jacob … Don’t think badly of me—I’m not drunk! Only I miss you terribly. KATAV-IVANOVSKY IRONWORKS–KIEV JACOB TO HIS PARENTS
JANUARY 20, 1913
What will become of my studies at the Institute? This disturbs me even more than the war. Through my friend Korzhenko, I found out that I must take furlough immediately and pass a minimum number of exams. Don’t mention this in your letters, though. The company commander mustn’t know that I’m planning to take a leave. Just to be on the safe side. The only thing that really worries me is that they won’t grant me furlough. Oh well, I’ll just drop out of the Institute in that case. Without any hopes of being readmitted. And the obstacles before me are formidable: first, they may refuse to give me leave—it’s not at all unlikely; and second, if they grant me leave, I still might not satisfy the minimum requirements for passing the exams. It’s hard for me to find even three hours a day to study. And how can I work in a tiny room packed with people? And there’s nowhere else to go. KATAV-IVANOVSKY IRONWORKS–MOSCOW JACOB TO MARUSYA
JANUARY 23, 1913
… There are moments when I am filled with jealousy and longing, thinking about you onstage—wearing your tunic, your arms and shoulders bare, your wondrous feet—you dance in a circle with other actresses, and still the spectators are staring only at you. And I feel anguish and suffering, that strangers’ eyes can gaze at your body. The greedy gazes of men. I feel these thoughts will suffocate me! I banish them, realizing that I shouldn’t be thinking them, much less writing them. But we made a pact about mutual honesty. MOSCOW–KATAV-IVANOVSKY IRONWORKS MARUSYA TO JACOB
JANUARY 25, 1913
… “My dream is that you will abandon the theater or at least leave it temporarily and come ‘home.’” Every other year! I am so sad. Does this mean that you in fact don’t approve of my being onstage? Why?
Jacob, I can’t abandon the stage, I can’t and I shouldn’t. Every other year would be impossible. In one year, the public forgets an actress’s name! They would even forget Komissarzhevskaya if she left for a year! And a young actress all the more! I believe in myself, and I believe in this opportunity I have. It will allow me to become what I can and must be. This is not ordinary theater. It’s an intricate and complex life, in which dance is only one way of grasping it, its great mysteries. We have spoken so much about this. I’ve only been onstage for one year. And I have accomplished a great deal in this year. You must also take into account the fact that I have not fallen victim to anyone’s embraces or touched anyone’s lips. By ignoring male protection, I know that it will take me three times longer to achieve what I wish. How can you speak about “greedy gazes” to me? I feel these gazes constantly, even on the tram, or in the library. I won’t abandon the theater. Unless it abandons me. I can’t imagine that you would ever issue an ultimatum—“me or the theater.” It would be doubly hard for me—to lose you for this reason, or to lose the theater?
Horrible! Did you really talk to that sergeant major about me? KATAV-IVANOVSKY IRONWORKS–MOSCOW JACOB TO MARUSYA
JANUARY 25, 1913
The degree to which a man is capable of adapting to his circumstances is simply remarkable. I think that, if I end up in hell, within a month I’ll be feeling right at home, after I’ve found out where the library is, the opera, and whether some sinner might get hold of a piano for me. In a few months’ time, I’ll be so comfortable there that I won’t want to move to another apartment, even one in heaven.
At first, especially in Zlatoust, it was very hard to make myself get up in the morning. I would dream about home, and when I woke up I couldn’t figure out where I was, how these strange walls that surrounded me had sprung up. Then, in a flash, it all comes back to you, and reluctantly, lazily, you start getting dressed. Now it’s not like that at all. I’ve completely adjusted to life inside these new walls, and to my dirty room. I’m as contented as a cat here. And, in time, I may get used to spitting on the floor, blowing my nose in my hand, and using my own handkerchief as a napkin and a tea towel.
The transition back to being a gentleman promises to be long and painful.
You will teach me, Marusya, as you taught the little children when you were still a Froebel teacher—to hold a fork and knife, not to wipe your nose on your sleeve, not to make improper noises.
“Jacob, don’t eat with your fingers. Use your napkin to wipe your face. How many times do I have to tell you not to spit in the dining room!”