83 - Konstantin Dmitrievich BALMONT, alias Don (1867–1942)

Konstantin Dmitrievich BALMONT, alias Don (1867–1942) Set of 1 autograph letter, 2 postcards, 17 autograph postcards, 1 envelope, addressed to Jurgis Kasimirovich BALTRUCHAITIS (1873–1944), in Russian, dated 1907 (the year of his second suicide attempt, which is evident in the tone of his letters), including: - March 4, 1907, Paris "You ask me what demon of indifference has taken hold of me. That is not it. I am currently traveling down difficult paths about which I can say nothing, for I have no words; for if I were to say anything, all the words would be false. I am overcome by fatigue every minute, all day long. Slavic anguish, if you will—that anguish (written in Polish) that Psczibiczevky understood so well, and which you perhaps do not understand? I know you do. You’ve read *Snow* and know what’s in it. (...)” "Jurgis, my dear, you ask what Demon of Indifference has taken hold of me. That’s not it. I am now walking along difficult paths that I cannot speak of, for there are no words—for if I were to begin to speak, all the words would be wrong. And fatigue takes hold of me for minutes, for whole days. Slavic melancholy, if you will, that ‘tensknota’ which is very understandable to Pshybyshevsky—and surely it is not incomprehensible to you? I know it is. You’ve read *Snow* and know what’s in it. You’ve read other, our own, Slavic pages by Pshybyshevsky. What can I say when I’m in such a state? If we were together, I would speak to you both prayerfully and passionately. Perhaps we would “disappear” together, and we would understand and feel one another as only we—and Elena—can understand and feel: from soul to soul. There is a strange limit to all efforts, beyond which lies the joy and despair of the vast, hostile, yet oceanically friendly, all-consuming void. There. It has taken hold of me. Surely I will once again conquer myself and this feeling. Surely, I will once again be “kind,” “beautiful”… surely. A curse on everything that does not spread our wings, that does not make them free and airy! I know the heights. But I see that people are lowly by nature, and, closing my eyes, I fall. (...) Still, I am to blame, for silence is, indeed, cruel. I will not remain silent for so long. But believe me, behind every postcard lie many thoughts of you. Give my regards to Bakhman; tell him that I love him very much. (...) P.S. Did you receive the lines from Elena on her *birthday?" -August 20, 1907, Souillac “Your subtle way of feeling in each of your letters gives you new words, and with every letter I love you more and more. (...) Something has happened in my life. I don’t want to say what yet, but in reality you can guess for yourself. (...) How to accept the will of Fate, I do not know. It is both anguish and joy combined. Indeed, the will of the Observer is being fulfilled upon us. (...)" "Jurgis, my dear brother, the subtle way you express your feelings in each of your letters gives you new words, and with every letter I love you more and more. I’ve been thinking about you a lot these past few days. You know, when something happens to a person, it’s as if they’re seeing the one they love—or a stranger—for the first time. It now seems to me that I am loving you for the first time, even though I fell in love with you from our very first meeting. Something has happened in my life. I don’t want to talk about it yet, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out on your own. Not in my own life, exactly—but there are lives that seem like someone else’s, and yet are entirely yours. Mysteries. I don’t know how to accept the decree of Fate. It’s both anxiety and joy at the same time. May the will be done.