10
PARTISAN REVIEW
Wronke, May 23, 1917
... Sonitschka, you burst out bitterly on my long imprisonment,
and write: "How is it possible that men can decide the fate of other
men? Why do we go through all this?" Don't be angry with me, but
reading your letter I couldn't help laughing with all my heart. In
Dostoievski's
Brothers Karamazov
there is a Mme. Hohlakov who is
always asking exactly the same questions, but before anyone tries
to
answer she leaps to another subject. Dear little bird, the entire history
of human civilization, which according to even modest estimates is
some twenty thousand years old, rests on the fact that men decide the
fate of their neighbor, and this has deep roots in the material condi–
tions of life. Only an evolution, brought about by a thousand convul–
.,ions, can change
it.
We are living, at the moment, one of the most
tormented chapters of this evolution, and you-you ask to what end
all this. "To what end?"-It is a question that has nothing to do with
a conception of the totality of life and its forces. To what end are
there titmice in this world? I don't know. But I rejoice that there are,
and I find it a very sweet consolation to hear all of a sudden a hurried
"tsi-tsi-bay," from far away, over the wall.
You also over-estimate my "serenity." It is unfortunate but true
that my inner balance and my happiness are shaken by the slightest
shadow passing lover me, and then I suffer unspeakable pain. But at
such times it is my nature to be silent. I do not exaggerate: in those
moments I cannot speak a single word. For instance, only in the last
few days, I was full of joy and happiness. I was delighting in the sun,
when all of a sudden, last Monday, an icy storm struck me and at one
blow turned my radiant joy to the deepest distress. I think that if at
that moment my dearest dream had become embodied and stood be–
fore me, I could not have uttered a word, I could have done nothing
but express my anguish in a silent look.
It
is true that I very rarely
feel the temptation to talk: for whole weeks I don't hear the sound
of my own voice; which is the reason for my heroic decision not to
have my little kitten brought here. The little thing is used to gaiety
and life, she likes me to sing and laugh and play hide-and-seek with
her
all
over the apartment. Here, she would be utterly gloomy. So I
will leave her with Mathilda. Mathilda is going to come and see me
one of these days and I hope her visit will revive my spirits. Perhaps
the Pentecost will be for me too a "happy holiday." Sonitschka, be
gay and peaceful, all will end well, believe me. My cordial greetings
to Karl.
I
kiss
you warmly.
Yours,
ROSA
