On Easter Saturday I communed with them, perhaps for the last time. The thought of this really moved me. When I returned, I found a magnificent lilac in my room. The Empress had sent me some Easter eggs and a pillow which she had knitted, together with the wounded officers in her infirmary. Easter Matin was solemn, and oh so sad!
Munition workers, oddly enough, tended to be pacifists. My speeches to munition workers in South Wales, all of which were inaccurately reported by detectives, caused the War Office to issue an order that I should not be any prohibited area. The prohibited areas were those into which it was particularly desired that no spies should penetrate. See more
I’m in a very difficult position here. Leading a war and handling domestic politics, while trying to reconcile two such mutually exclusive tasks, amounts to a kind of monstrous compromise. The latter goes against my nature and psyche, and on top of that, I’m having to fight an internal struggle. This complicates everything to the extreme, and domestic politics is growing like a snowball rolling down a hill and is evidently engulfing the war. It’s a shared, unpleasant phenomenon which lies in the deeply non-military nature of the masses, who’ve been impregnated by abstract, lifeless ideas of social doctrines (but of what kind?!).
I find it most interesting to talk to simple people. I recently spoke at a rally in one of the dark outlying regions of the city, where mayhem threatens to creep out on every turbulent day. The audience was attentive. With a glance, I picked out two or three faces with especially uncultured features and spoke as if they were the only people there. It fascinated me. When I saw the attention, followed by interest, curiosity and agreement as I continued, it inspired thought and imagination. I am now working on a pop brochure for the nation, in which I show how the last Romanov broke down and destroyed the autocratic idol (and other expressions).
Sergei Pavlovich literally flew into the lobby of the hotel and passionately embraced Nijinsky: "Vatsa, dear, how are you?". The embrace turned out to be so gentle and sincere, as if there had never been an argument between them. It was the real Diaghilev of the past days. They retired to a corner and talked hours and hours, and it seemed that the old friendship had been restored. Since that day, we spent literally all the time with Diaghilev. See more
War prevents me from working on my paintings. I have to work on smaller orders that bring me quick money, thereby allowing me to pay the bills.
Three French socialist deputies, Montet, Cachin and Lafont, arrived from Paris yesterday evening, travelling via Bergen and Tornea; they have come to preach wisdom and patriotism to the Soviet. They are accompanied by two members of the British Labour Party, O'Grady and Thorne. See more