have lost an irreplaceable guide. He nourished me with artistic truth and inspired me to creativeness. Know--that in that coffin lies the fate of the whole scarcely blossomed Russian opera. From now on it will again be overgrown by foreign weeds, and for a long time they will stifle our green shoots. So it will be." These last words of M. P. were pronounced between clenched teeth in a deafening voice and again he broke into sobs . . . --NIKOLAI KOMPANEISKY
March 22, 1878
MY DEAR généralissime,
I have seen the Archdeacon44 whom our splendid Ilya Repin created. Yes, this is a whole fire-breathing mountain! and those Varlaam-like eyes seem to follow the spectator. What terrific-sized brush-strokes, what an abundant breadth! And that one--"From the Shy Ones"--a rascal, a peasant-bandit: the turned head and the inhuman glance, guarantee that when he gets a chance, he'd wipe out ten human souls.
April 1, 1878
. . . The "wretched old woman" tells me that Musoryanin was at her home a few days ago, completely recovered and looking almost like a respectable person. God grant this, for I had already placed a cross over him and expected nothing more of him . . .
Dear little dove of mine, Ludmila Ivanovna, on July 28, Friday, I will come straight from my duties to you, with a great desire to talk____________________