[14] Gregory Ivanovich Chertkov (1828-1884), Adjutant-General.
1909
_February 10th._ Once in the winter Sophie Andreevna in Tolstoi’s
presence criticized V. G. Chertkov bitterly, which, as usual,
pained him very much. This was in the morning. In the middle of the
conversation Tolstoi got up and went into his room.
Some time later he came into the dining-room, stood at the door, and
said in an agitated voice:
“There is an old nurse in our house. I scarcely know her, but I love
her because she loves Sasha, and when there is nothing like that in a
house, there is no real love.” ...
After saying this, Tolstoi turned and quietly went to his room.
To-night Tolstoi said:
“When one listens to music, it agitates, excites, elates, but one does
not think. But when I play patience in my room, the finest thoughts
come to me.”
During work, especially if he found some difficulty, Tolstoi used to
play patience. This was his habit throughout his life. When he was
writing Part III. of _Resurrection_, Tolstoi was undecided for a long
time about the fate of Katyusha Maslov. Now he decided that Nekhlyudov
should marry her, now that he should not. At last he decided to play
a game of patience: if the patience came out, Nekhlyudov should marry
her; if not, then he should not marry her. The patience did not come
out. Once Tolstoi told me that he had found a passage in a book, which
he was writing, very difficult. He hesitated for a long time what to
do, but made up his mind and wrote it. Then he decided to test it by
means of a game of patience; if the patience came out, that meant that
what he had written was good; if it did not come out, then it was bad.
The patience did not come out, and Tolstoi said to himself: “Never
mind, it is good as it is!” and he left it as he had written it.
_May 24th._ Tolstoi was speaking about Dietrich’s German book on
Goethe. The author sent him the book and asked him his opinion.
Tolstoi said:
“It is amazing! So far back as 1824 Goethe wrote that sincerity
was become almost impossible in art, because of the multitude of
newspapers, journals, and reviews. The artist reads them, involuntarily
pays attention to them, and cannot be perfectly sincere. What would he
say if he lived now!”