It was a splendid bright day. There was much in the air. The last f ew days have brought a great deal of unpleasantness, owing to the absence of proper sewage facilities.
The lower W.C. is filled with waste from the upper W.C.; therefore, we had to refrain from visiting the upper one and abstain from bathing; all this because the cesspool pit was too small and because nobody wanted to clean it. I asked S.S. Botkin to bring this to the attention of the commissar, Pankratov, who came and was dismayed at the state of things.
Dear God, save Russia and our Russian fools.
Direct attack had availed me nothing, very well, then, I would try the indirect. Upon inquiry, I learned that KuzminAndrei Kuzmin - ensign, revolutionary, "president" of the Krasnoyarsk republic (1905), assistant chief of the Petrograd military district in 1917., Kerensky's new assistant, enjoyed the confidence of both Kerensky and of the Soviet. I decided to act through him and attack, as it were, on both fronts at once. See more
Certain of my friends who had the necessary connexions undertook to arrange this meeting. They gave a dinner to which they invited among others Kuzmin and myself. Kuzmin was among the guests awaiting my arrival. Purposely, he was not placed beside me at dinner. When we rose from the table and scattered about the rooms, I watched for an opportune time to begin my conversation. Finally the moment came. As not to be silent, I said something inconsequential and fumbled for my cigarette case in my bag. The case was empty. Kuzmin reached for his somewhat awkwardly, offered me a cigarette, and gave me a light. When we both were smoking, the ice seemed to melt.
We talked. I listened. When he finished speaking about himself, he questioned me.
I began to tell him about myself, about the atmosphere in which I had been brought up, about my work during the war, my conversations with the peasants. He listened intently, hands folded on the table, head bent. It was now his turn to hear for the first time in his life something contrary to all that had been taught him since childhood. Much of what I said was evidently incomprehensible to him and he asked more detailed explanations. Finally, when I had spoken of my life at the front and at Pskov, he raised his head and asked:
"Is it possible that the Romanovs love Russia?"
"Yes, they do; they have loved and will continue to love her always, no matter what happens," I replied, not suspecting how often I would in the future have cause to remember this sentence.
The way was paved. Now I could speak of my father. And that night, bidding Kuzmin good-bye, I felt that I had accomplished something by talking with him. My father was not set free by the day of my wedding, but I now felt less anxious about his fate. And I was not mistaken} a few days later the guards were removed from his home.
On the day before yesterday Lvov, member of the State Duma, was released, as he had shown signs of a mental disorder at his interrogation.
There is no certainty that classes will take place. In Moscow there is very little food, and even fewer apartments for the studying youth. The civil war is approaching, perhaps, in its most beastly form, in the form of the defeat of soldiers who are running from the front in hordes. See more
Above that, Bolshevik students want to sabotage the school year, in order to free their agitators, and would only magnanimously allow to hold state exams.
Prayed to God and decided to go to Vernadsky, to offer my services to the government and my library to Saratov. There is no other solution. Will go to ambassadors, will offer my services to foreign governments: to the English, to the French, to the Americans, but before all, to Vernadsky. Who knows, it may work out. Now Saratov needs everything.
Dear Sir Zweig! I have just finished reading “Jeremiah;” this poem has impressed me deeply and powerfully. Its mood and honesty are seemingly making you closer and dearer to me. I acutely felt its timeliness, and I would really want the individual, fundamentally important points—namely the last scene—to be disseminated widely.
The documents proving pro-German conspiracy were discovered to be forgeries; and one by one the Bolsheviki were released from prison without trial, on nominal or no bail–until only six remained.
The events are developing so fast and with so many surprises that you can’t believe that you are living in them, and not in some kind of story or novel. See more
On the surface I live as usual—despite the melancholy—go to the theatre, to visit friends, sometimes take walks with Anyuta on Morskaia, attend to my craft, although, rather sluggishly. I have spent almost two months on coloring pictures (my prints for the “Book of the Marquise”) for Braikevich, who has commissioned it. Colored almost 60 of them. This work is relatively easy, although sometimes slow and painstaking. Some prints came out very well. And Braikevich was very pleased with them. He came for them three days ago.