Commissar Chudnovsky of the MRC is arrested by the sentries of the Winter Palace and once inside, tries to persuade the Junkers to put an end to their opposition.
On the train, Rozanov could not stop making fun of Pavel Berlin because his name is the name of a city. “And then there’s Jack London!” he said, “What kind of fad is this? Come on! I don’t call myself Petersburg. Chukovsky doesn’t call himself Moscow. We are humble people. And then there’s even Anatole France. I could be Vasilii Russia! I would be ashamed to show my face.”
I’m spending whole days organising a Anglo-American gift to the Russian people: 2,000,000 free copies of textbooks. I’m exhausted, I can’t sleep due to fatigue every night. See more
I called on RepinPainter, to ask what he wanted for the Buchanan portrait: 10,000 rubles or a golden plate. Repin (deathly pale, with the shadows of a dead man under his nose and eyes, yet still his ever-charming self): “You know, the plate is awfully nice, but I fear… I’m not worthy of it… It would be wasted on me… And how would I ever sell it? It’s hallmarked, it would be awkward”. See more
Life in Petrograd is good. The children are studying. My insomnia is troubling me less than before. I work all day and am paid handsomely for my efforts.
Dear Ilya Yefimovich, I have just received an assignment from the British ambassador to inform you, that early on Wednesday morning Sir George will visit the Penates. See more
I met General KornilovCommander in Chief of the Petrograd command - from 18 March 1917 after his appointment as Supreme Commander in Chief. My general impression of Kornilov is as follows: he is, first and foremost, a soldier, and he doesn't understand a great deal when it comes to complex political questions. See more
Masha said this morning, “You know, there’s a dictatatorship in Russia!” Out of nervousness. Just a month ago I wondered how the bourgeoisie would pull the military and the treasury and the political authorities over to its side; it seemed despite all the laws of history that Russia would, after centuries of autocracy, immediately become a socialist state. See more
I don’t sleep at all. For the second night in a row am reading Stendhal’s “The Red and the Black,” a ravishing, thick, two-volume novel. It stole the whole morning from me. In annoyance that it took me away from work, I threw it aside. Otherwise you cannot tear yourself away from it—you need to make a heroic gesture. See more
How I envy people who have money!