I see a handsome officer decorated with the order of St George. He is surrounded on all sides, surrounded tightly, as if in grips of a vise. He turned pale, but remains calm. No a single face muscle twiched; he looks right at the bastards’ faces with cold, calm eyes and I feel that he will look at death the same way.
He was disarmed.
He continues to stand still. Some worker dashes to him and attempts to grab one of the epaulettes. A soldier emerges from the crowd, who, no doubt came straight from the front lines, and smacks the worker across the face. The worker falls down. The crowd is cheering and yells “hurray!”. The officer slowly approaches the soldier and tells him something. The soldier stands still and salutes, but his face is smiling joyously. The warriors continue on in a calm, determined manner. The crowd steps back respectfully.
I have been looking at these foul scenes for hours. I am disgusted and in pain, and the pain makes me want to cry, but I don’t have the will to leave and stop watching.
Comrades! There arise moments in the existence of every nation – just as they do in the existence of individuals – when the most pressing question of the day is no longer how best to live, but whether life will continue at all. We are going through just such a moment, and must ask ourselves whether Russia will survive if the old order continues to exist. We are gathered here to swear that Russia will be free.
It’s going to be the same as the Great French Revolution, perhaps even worse.
The situation is such that we cannot do without many old bureaucrats. For who can replace them? And so they’ve decided to send members of the State Duma as ‘commissars’. One of the major and successful appointments was that of a Duma member and engineer Bublikov as commissar of ‘Communications’.
My first task was to dispatch a network-wide communiqué to the railwaymen regarding today’s events, and to call upon them to work toward the benefit of this newly free country. My second task was to ascertain the whereabouts of the Tsar. See more
We left Mofilev at 5 o’clock in the morning. The weather was bright and frosty.
The Empress had said to me that to go "would look like flight," and she was also afraid of the risk to the children had they been moved while they were so ill. On the morning, however, she told me that I should "quietly pack my bag to be able to start with them at any moment, should this prove necessary." The gentlemen had on that morning again raised the question of the Empress's departure, but it was too late now.
There will be further battles. Lord! Save Russia. Save her, save her, save her. Save her from herself, guide her as You see fit. See more
The firing, which had died down by this morning, began again about ten o'clock; it seemed to be pretty vigorous in the region of the Admiralty. Armoured cars, with machine-guns and displaying red flags, were continually passing the embassy at top speed. More fires were blazing at several points in the capital. See more
From Russia we receive nothing, not even letters! We relay through Scandinavia.
No sooner do I take a seat in the carriage than I see the following large-lettered headline on the front page of my neighbour’s newspaper: REVOLUTION IN RUSSIA. My heart quivers. For some reason, I believe it at once: this is no journalistic bluff, this is for real. I try to make out what it says. It’s too late to buy a paper of my own – the train has set off. “When you’re done with it, lend it to me,” I say to my neighbour. “I’m Russian – it’s only natural that I should be in interested in what’s going on.”
The troops are disorganised, they’re all thronging about while officerless military patrols attempt to maintain order. Could it really be that socialism’s creative energies will be put into effect? My people, will you find in it yourselves to become great at last?
8 o’clock, we were woken up by heavy traffic, of both passenger and freight cars, that were overcrowded with soldiers who were shooting, mostly, into the air—there were also strong explosions of hand grenades. See more
We are once again in Rome after our travels in Naples, where we also explored Pompey in an automobile. I think that no city in the world will ever please me such as did Naples. See more
Military units and automobiles had already materialised, together with sinister-looking, revolver-wielding, long-haired types – and girls of a corresponding appearance. The Kremlin was taken almost without a single shot being fired, and, come evening, Moscow found itself in the hands of the revolutionary authorities. See more
Soldiers fraternize with the public and the mood, in general, is improving. It is difficult to understand how all this will end. Take care of our son.