Tuesday, 12 October 1880

The Tchoumakoffs to dinner yesterday.
Yesterday too I received the following telegram from Poltava:
Copied letterDépêche de la noblesse de Poltava (Abaza, Manderstern) à Marie, 11 octobre 1880
“The whole nobility presents to you in our persons its congratulations on the occasion of your father’s unanimous election. We drink to your health. — Abaza, Manderstern.
Abaza is the one I knew in Russia, the biggest bigwig in Poltava after having been one in Petersburg and Odessa.
Manderstern is the marshal of the nobility for the province, as my father is for the district of Poltava.
Saint-Amand lunched with us.
Here is my telegraphic reply — you understand one must be polite, one must not show that M. Bashkirtseff’s affairs do not concern me, but at the same time one must thank these gentlemen and “our good nobility of Poltava”; I must show myself polite, for family affairs are nobody’s concern, and then it is a sort of... how to put it, it is almost official, it is pompous, and I may perhaps have to put forward my candidacy in Poltava when we have made progress. In short, here it is:
Copied letterRéponse télégraphique de Marie à la noblesse de Poltava, octobre 1880
“Flattered by the gracious attention, I cordially thank the worthy representatives of the nobility of Poltava, to which I wish a thousand prosperities.” — Marie Baschkirseff.
It is dignified, it is noble, it is a great man’s telegram, and moreover it is not in telegraphic style with all the adverbs, etc., suppressed. In short, my girl, you are pitiful.
I am rereading Paul and Virginia very attentively, and I willingly excuse the somewhat stilted naiveties of the style in the descriptions of the virtues of those good people. But I have just treated myself to a good long cry!
You know, when Paul comes back from the neighbour’s and asks from afar of the Black woman Marie: Where is Virginie? Marie turns her head towards him and begins to cry. And so do I. No, it is dreadful too for that child to return and no longer find her. Then he runs to the rock and sees the ship which is now only a black speck...
There one is seized with rage on his behalf. And I weep and I weep! And when Paul says to the dog running before him: go, you will never find her again! I cannot help it. And the letter from Virginie where she sends violet seeds to Paul. No, but the dreadful moment is when she has left and he looks at the black speck on the horizon from the top of the rock. Bernardin de Saint-Pierre himself did not understand what he had created — it is a passage sublime in its simplicity and incomparable in emotion.

Notes

The marshal of the nobility (predvoditel dvoryanstva) was an elected leader of the local gentry in the Russian administrative system. ↩
Bernardin de Saint-Pierre’s novel (1788). ↩