Monday, 2 September 1878

I have resumed my work, so unfortunately interrupted on Thursday. I am in a daze. We have received several letters and condolence cards — from Mme Balagny and her husband, M. and Mme de Tunis, M. des Perrières, etc. Announcements have been sent to everyone: to Russia, Nice, Germany, Paris, Italy.
M. Nicolas no longer shows himself and sulks, telling the servants that we have robbed him. Truly there is no point in being honest — if one did not feel the need for it oneself, one would certainly not be so for others’ sake. These idiots, these cowards, seem unaware that hereditary estates are inalienable by testament, and that Grand-papa owned only a small amount of property he had acquired himself, which he has disposed of in favour of Maman, who was always his beloved and adored daughter. He leaves nearly five thousand dessiatines, [a Russian land measure] and could give only two hundred of them to Maman; what is fine is that he made this will three years ago in Nice, in the absence of all of us, with MM. Patton, Orgesko, Bihovetz, Anitchkoff and Walitsky as witnesses. There are these two hundred dessiatines and a few dozen more — fifty dessiatines of forest, I believe — which he leaves to Maman and which have value only because this small parcel adjoins and forms part, so to speak, of a small estate Maman bought some ten years ago. That is the whole of the “plunder”. The dirty creatures!
The wretches — they covet this pittance, knowing full well that married daughters inherit nothing and that Maman would have had nothing without this gift Grand-papa thought to make her. They say: “They must have enough from the Romanoff fortune.” It is utterly stupid. The dirty creatures! Instead of mourning a father, they think only of money! Of money that no one has any wish or power to take from them. They imagine that we are stuffed, filled, padded, crammed with bills of exchange, bonds, etc. with the help of which which, by simulating debts, will force the sale of the estates and bring the money into our pockets.
What horror. I believe they will bring a lawsuit over Dina’s fifty thousand roubles, because it was put in Maman’s name so that M. Georges cannot touch it. The dirty creatures — let us speak of them no more.
Two hundred soldiers fell ill along the road, of whom four died — all while marching to manoeuvres somewhere. M. de Cassagnac thunders against the government, and this time the demi-god insults neither the Marshal nor his ministers nor the Republicans. All that would not be grand enough, and he takes advantage of his parliamentary immunity, which may soon cease, to operate on a grand scale. In his indignation he cries out and declares all France to be stupid. “Stupid French,” says he. Well, there goes the whole country, contents and all. Poor French, you are all idiots now. What an enchanter this Cassagnac is.
He has never been more brazen.
His election will be annulled without doubt — but he will be re-elected in triumph, without doubt. I am unhappily quite certain of it. It is not from that quarter that troubles will come to him, nor pleasure to me... I do not wish this man dead; I should not know what to do with myself. But I wish he did not carry himself so... well, after his wretched marriage. Is it not enough that he is married — must he also take from me the means of despising him? Every day brings him a new triumph. I do not believe this is purely in the imagination of your humble servant. The papers still speak of a marriage with Princess Thyra, and the Republic has all the appearance of not being solid. It is the confidence of these miserable Bonapartists that overwhelms and enrages me.
My grandfather is dead; every day I go, in full mourning, with my family, to hear the prayers said before his coffin; my eyes are fixed and my cheeks pale. I think of my time in Rome, in Nice — and I rage!! Or I think of Cassagnac... without him I could endure the rest — but to know that this man understands everything so perfectly, to the point of smiling at the idea of the effect his speeches and affairs produce in me. He understands me so well and resembles me so much... I shall not deceive him...

Notes

A dessiatine (desyatina) was a Russian unit of land measurement equivalent to approximately 2.7 acres or 1.09 hectares. Five thousand dessiatines would therefore equal roughly 13,500 acres — a substantial estate. ↩