14 February 1917. Bruce Lockhart

Moscow, Russian Empire

Lord Milner and George Clerk having returned to St. Petersburg, we were promptly inflicted with the military invasion of Sir Henry Wilson and his brother officers. There was no political significance attached to this visit. Yet it nearly ruined my relations with my Russian friends and involved me in one of the most uncomfortable incidents in my official life.

The generals had come to Moscow, not for business but for relaxation. They had had their bellyful of official entertaining. In any case they were not interested in the political views of Moscow malcontents or, for that matter, of a beardless Consular officer. What could I do to amuse them? Could I arrange a small dinner and a dance for them? And, as they were fifteen strong, need I invite the husbands? This was the burden of my conversation with Sir Henry Wilson on his arrival, and, anxious to please so great a soldier, I rushed away to fulfil his commands.

I sought the assistance of my wife. She rang up the wives of the Russians who throughout the War had done most to help us to entertain the various English missions which had visited Moscow. With delicious zest they entered into the spirit of the adventure, and before luncheon time we had arranged an almost perfect party. Need I say that our invitations had been extended only to the young and pretty wives and that their husbands had not been taken into their confidence? Oh, egregious, overzealous youth!

The party was held in a private room in the Hermitage Restaurant. The food, the wines, were the best that Moscow could provide. The orchestra was Korsch, and in honour of the English guests Korsch played "Love Me and the World is Mine" with even more than his usual feeling. The party was a complete success. It was friendly. It was decorous. In the presence of such pillars of respectability as General Clive, Lord Duncannon and Sir Henry Wilson himself, how could it have been otherwise? And yet in this fold of innocents there was one black sheep. Lord Brook asked if he might bring a friend to the dinner. She was unknown to my Moscow friends. She was an aristocrat. She had been divorced. Worst of all, she came from St. Petersburg.

Let me hasten to say that both she and Lord Brook behaved even more decorously than the most decorous member of this decorous gathering. But the mischief was done. And at an early hour next morning my telephone buzzed incessantly with calls from irate husbands demanding apologies for my conduct. The final blow came when my richest, most influential Russian friend called at the Consulate-General and asked to speak to me. He was shown into my room. He walked up to my desk and clicked his heels. There was a look of steel in his eyes.

"Roman Romanovitch," he said, "you were my friend. I consider it my duty to inform you that your conduct in inviting my wife without me last night was ungentlemanly. Goodbye."

And, righteously indignant, he strode out of the room.

It took me weeks of arduous attention to gather up the fragments of my broken friendships.

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Maxim Gorky

23, Kronversky ave., Petrograd, Russian Empire

Life is increasingly becoming a nightmare, and especially difficult for those who have no personal life. Personal life is, at any rate, that moderately dirty and uncomfortable place where one can rest.

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Edvard Munch

Paints "Nude on the couch"

Ekely estate, Norway

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Elizaveta Naryshkina

Alexander Palace, Tsarskoye Selo, Russian Empire

A snow storm. I learned that the heir to the throne is more seriously ill than we’d thought. I can imagine the trepidation of the Empress, exacerbated by Grigory’s disappearance. The poor, dear woman – I pity her from the bottom of my heart yet cannot express any sympathy to her.

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Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich

Retrograd, Russian Empire

Certain “conspirologists” assured us that things wouldn’t go beyond a “palace coup” – that is, the tsar would be forced to abdicate the throne in favour of his son Alexei, with supreme power being handed over to a special council consisting of individuals who “understood the Russian people”. I thought this plan astonishing. I’d never yet encountered an individual possessed of such an understanding.

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Pathe News

British farmers feed swans starving from the cold.

Vaslav Nijinsky

New York, United States

In Massine Diaghilev developed the love for glory. I was not passionate either about works of art or glory. Diaghilev noticed this and left me alone. Left alone I ran after the girls, I liked them. Diaghilev thought that I was bored, but I was not. I practiced my dances and composed ballets alone. Diaghilev did not like this. See more

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Maximilian Voloshin

lecturing "The fate of Verhran" in Moscow Drama Theatre

The "Hermitage" theatre, Karetnyy lane, Moscow

When the earth is consumed in war, and all of humanity is divided into two irreconcilable camps, there must be such a person as would throw himself down to the floor of his cell and pray on his knees for all, for his enemies and his brothers. In the epoch of all-consuming cruelty and blindness, there must remain those who are capable of opposing the desire for revenge and hatred, who are capable of exorcising the spirit of insanity with their benediction. This must be the poet’s calling.

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Nikolai Pokrovsky

Petrograd, Russian Empire

Conclusions of the Strategic Council: Military operations in 1917 will be decisive; offences will be launched on various fronts without sparing any and all resources available to the allied armies.

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Olga Rozanova

Becman's house, ap. 29, 5, Patriarshiye pound, Moscow, Russian Empire

How are the Caucasus? We read in the papers and hear on the streets that the population there is being conscripted. Is this correct? There was another draft recently in Moscow, but only for the workers. As for the larger picture, the political landscape seems to be shrouded in mystery.

Malevich is living at his dacha, and says that he will be able to rent you two rooms there on the upper floor in the summer for 20 roubles a month.

Well goodbye for now. Best wishes, write soon, and stay in good health.

O.R.

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Rurik Ivnev

Lahtinskaya street, Petrograd, Russian Empire

Today, while standing in the tram vestibule, I gave someone a rough push and said, “Why aren’t you moving right down inside the carriage?” When I saw that this someone was a pale-faced, haggard Chinaman, I felt a painful pang of guilt, as if I’d slighted a guest in my own house. How many of these Chinamen traipse the streets of Petersburg? And to think – their native land, their homes, they’ve left it all behind – and what awaits them in the future? Nothing. Lord, have mercy on these wretched vagabonds and make their lot a little easier!

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Franz Kafka Felice Bauer

Prague, Austro-Hungarian Empire

My Dearest, so here’s my apartment saga. It’s a grandiose subject. It scares me and I can’t deal with it. It’s too big for me.

Sometime in the summer I went with Ottla in search of housing, and although I don’t believe it’s possible to do this calmly, I went to look nonetheless. There was a little house for rent starting in November. Ottla, who is also looking for peace, however, in her own way, got a burning desire to rent this house. Ottla ordered everything to be painted, bought all sorts of wicker furniture (I don’t know a more comfortable chair than this one), and managed to keep all this a secret from the rest of the family.

When I got back from Munich, I was filled with new determination, I went to the apartment rental office, where I was immediately offered to look at an apartment in one of the most beautiful mansions in the city. It has two rooms, a hallway, half of which has been converted into a bathroom. 160 crowns a year. It’s simply a dream come true! I went [to see it]. The rooms are tall and beautiful, purple with gold, everything is almost like in Versailles. The apartment had only one drawback. The former tenant had to invest so much money into the apartment that he wasn’t ready to part with it just like that. Therefore, to give it up, he was looking for someone willing to at least partially compensate him for incurred costs (the electric wiring and telephone, bathroom installation, and building the closets). He is asking (probably a quite modest) sum 1,650 crowns for everything. It's too expensive for me.

However, I found another apartment with a little lower ceiling on the third floor in the same mansion. However, it was not completely clear, if the apartment is for rent or not. I then went into despair. I went to Ottla’s house in this state of mind. It had just been completed. At first, there were a lot of flaws and shortcomings that I don’t have the time right now to spell them out. Now it completely suits me. I’m happy with everything: there’s marvelous street, it’s quiet inside, only a thin wall separates us from the neighbor, but the neighbor is quiet enough; I usually eat dinner alone and usually stay until midnight. And now suddenly a deal has been reached with the apartment in the mansion: He’s willing to rent it to me.

But perhaps I should put this apartment behind me now, and not go see it. But in fact I have already rented it, but the manager, of course, is willing to release me from this verbal contract. I’ve said so little! Now, I need to think it over, decide, and move quickly.

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Grand Forks Herald

Whether their are guests or not on Saint Valentine's Day, why not vary the menu by having something pleasing to eat and some dainty decorations? The children and even the older people will enjoy the surprise and variety of it, and variety, you know, is "the spice of life."

Sweetheart Sandwiches.

Make a soft filling of equal parts of chopped dates, chopped raisins, and chopped walnut meats, moistened to a spreading consistency with strained honey. Spread between thin slices of buttered white bread and cut with a heart-shaped cooky cutter.

Lovers Dream Sandwiches.

Cream three tablespoonfuls of butter until very light. Mix thoroughly with an equal quantity of strained honey. Use as a sandwich filling between thin, slices of white bread, cut in triangles.

Saint Valentines Favored Desert.

Fill small, heart-shaped moulds with strawberry gelatin. Allow to harden. Place thin slices of vanilla Ice cream on plates, and unmould a strawberry heart on top of each slice. Finish with a little whipped cream and garnish with a Maraschino cherry.

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13 February

Psychologist Ivan Pavlov on the Russian slave mentality

The infamous erotic dancer Mata Hari is arrested

The starve makes people leave their houses