The second of two striking stage pictures in which the old Russia and the new were typified brought a huge audience at the Hippodrome to its feet last night with applause that for a time drowned George Harris’s singing of the new Russian national anthem. Alla Nazimova, standing aloft in a costume of cloth-of-gold, personified the new republic, while at her feet the masses, who a moment before had knelt in subjection, stood with arms upraised. Then the orchestra struck up ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ and the audience joined it singing it.
The tableaux formed the closing number to an entertainment to raise money for the fund being collected to raise money for the fund being collected by The New York Herald to build a Statue of Liberty in Russia as a gift from the American people. The Hippodrome was packed, and the receipts were $10.269. The program included a great variety of things, from Billy Sunday’s narrative of his conversion to a more or less impromptu movie sketch in which the players came upon the stage in five shining new taxis.
In the evening I wandered and wandered. White Nights and women. I’m right at home in this dark and lonely abyss we call St Petersburg 1917, Russia 1917. Where are you carrying me, life? The day, the white nights, arouse me like a heavy draught of wine.
Where is the Russian army? There is no army! Go into the trenches, and you will see only an armed crowd, corrupted by a dangerously patchy political education and utterly incapable of either defense or attack!
Kschessinsky’s house on the Kamenny Prospekt has been taken over by a gang, an insignificant gang of communists with Lenin at their head, who appear on the terrace every morning to inspire the people to steal from and murder the bourgeois. See more
It was a clear, warm day. After my walk I gave Alexei a geography lesson. We went out into the garden at 2:15. I worked all the time with the others in the vegetable garden; Alexis and the girls planted various things in the beds which we had prepared. At 5 o'clock we returned home perspiring. See more
It is difficult to imagine what must have been going on in Kerensky’s mind when, in the space of a few short weeks and months, the revolution had thrust him into such dizzying heights as he found himself. In his soul he must have been forced to admit that all the homage paid him, the idolisation, See more