Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Wednesday, 4 October 1876 (22 September) — Escape to Poltava and Spiritual Wrestling

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost — I begin the hand-to-hand struggle with the invisible red bull!
"Without breathing a word to a soul" — like the Governor of Lima in La Périchole — I made my escape this morning!!
That is to say, everyone knew I was leaving — except my father, who had spent the night in the forest.
He witnessed my departure in his dressing-gown, shouting that I was wrong to go, etc., etc.
I listened and departed with Paul, and Stepan on the box. My furs protected me against the keen air that cut my face, while my mind was absorbed in reading Cassagnac's profoundly moral novel.
Scarcely arrived at the hotel, Michel turned up with his horses, which Paul and I made use of to go for information — to the notary, into shops, everywhere.
I was sitting between Paul and the Prince when Mme Volkovitsky came to call on me, and then her husband and Gedanoff arrived.
I had sent Stepan to Alexandre's and was waiting for him.
Michel, who had not left us, dined with us, and after dinner we gave ourselves up to atrocious slanders about our neighbours... That is to say, Michel spoke of Mme Tutcheff, of the shameful way his father had been married off to Nathalie, and finally I pressed him to tell what people say of the Romanoff affair. Now, do you know what they say? They say that Walitsky — Walitsky, mark you — Walitsky poisoned M. Romanoff. I was drinking a cup of tea and raising a spoonful of that Chinese beverage to my lips — well, do you imagine I let it all fall? What use then would be my learning, my universal contempt, my philosophy! I swallowed my tea with a perfect smile of composure. Such an absurdity could not even provoke a burst of laughter. And Michel continued, recounting that "Maman" — that is, the Princess his mother-in-law — had stolen an enormous sum of money from her husband's desk at the very moment the latter was giving up his soul.
Well, really!
[Blacked out: Then and in the name of] In a shop I saw M. Zankovsky; I recognised him from a photograph and he came toward me and greeted me. He last saw me eight years ago — besides he could not have recognised me by my face; besides, to recognise me was easy enough once one knew that the Bashkirtseff girl had arrived from abroad.
Not only did Alexandre not come — he also detained my messenger.
Ah! That would drive me up the wall if I did not restrain myself.
Weep, Rome, weep, love, regret, despise! But do not remain one instant without reading or talking — reflection would lead you to madness or to despair at the least.
At one o'clock I leave for Tchernakowka. They are not expecting me — they will be at home.
I am going to see again the countryside where I spent my entire childhood until our departure abroad. There I lived under the wing of grandmother, who adored me and whom I adore now. I shall see her tomb, I shall see the great house, the garden, the pond, and above it the kiosk on a hill in the wood. All of this passes before my eyes — yet it is not a pious pilgrimage I am making: I am going in pursuit of a thief!
Ah! My God! My God, let it end!
My demon — that other self — cries out to me that if I were to walk to Kiev now on foot, I should become everything I wish to be, and even a queen! My demon knows perfectly well that it is impossible, and torments me with these temptations. Impossible, in order to have the impossible... but no — let us not say impossible; there is only the difficult, the marvellous perhaps. Very well, let us do the marvellous in order to have the marvellous!
My God, do not tempt me — or rather: do not tempt God, unworthy and senseless creature!
Rise, unworthy creature, and prove that by loving God one achieves everything. My fleshly envelope weakens... God wills that there should be limits to ambition, and God stops me in the middle of my impulse like that inexplicable force which leaves one motionless and speechless in a nightmare.
All this is nothing but phrases with which I seek to escape.
God Himself shows me the path — I know I shall not follow it... and this tortures me.
The winter about to descend like a thunderclap, the time that such a journey on foot would require, the "what will people say?"—
Everything proves to me that God wishes to demonstrate to me the powerlessness of man. He says to me: go — showing me the way — and I weaken. It is my fault.
You think me mad — I am only in ecstasy, and if I obeyed the Genius who speaks to me I should have everything. But I am not worthy, and God, in one way or another, prevents me from arriving — He acts upon my will, fills me with weakness, confounds my mind. Go, He says, but overcome these obstacles; if you overcome them you are Worthy—
And I cannot!!

Notes

La Périchole (1868), comic opera by Offenbach, libretto by Meilhac and Halévy. The Governor of Lima is a pompous character who fancies himself discreet. ↩
Walking to Kiev — to the Pechersk Lavra (Monastery of the Caves), a foremost Orthodox pilgrimage site — was a recognised act of extreme devotion and penance in the Russian Orthodox tradition. ↩