MELIHOVO,
March 9, 1892.
... Yes, such men as Ratchinsky are very rare in this world. I understand
your enthusiasm, my dear fellow. After the suffocation one feels in the
proximity of A. and B.--and the world is full of them--Ratchinsky with his
ideas, his humanity, and his purity, seems like a breath of spring. I am
ready to lay down my life for Ratchinsky; but, dear friend,--allow me that
“but” and don’t be vexed--I would not send my children to his school. Why?
I received a religious education in my childhood--with church singing, with
reading of the “apostles” and the psalms in church, with regular attendance
at matins, with obligation to assist at the altar and ring the bells. And,
do you know, when I think now of my childhood, it seems to me rather
gloomy. I have no religion now. Do you know, when my brothers and I used to
stand in the middle of the church and sing the trio “May my prayer be
exalted,” or “The Archangel’s Voice,” everyone looked at us with emotion
and envied our parents, but we at that moment felt like little convicts.
Yes, dear boy! Ratchinsky I understand, but the children who are trained by
him I don’t know. Their souls are dark for me. If there is joy in their
souls, then they are happier than I and my brothers, whose childhood was
suffering.
It is nice to be a lord. There is plenty of room, it’s warm, people are not
continually pulling at the bell; and it is easy to descend from one’s
lordship and serve as concierge or porter. My estate, sir, cost thirteen
thousand, and I have only paid a third, the rest is a debt which will keep
me long years on the chain.
Come and see me, Jean, together with Suvorin. Make a plan with him. I have
such a garden! Such a naive courtyard, such geese! Write a little oftener.