So much has happened in these three months. Important historical events have occurred that no one can erase. We Russians, or more accurately, Bolsheviks, we are making history, we are clearing a path for the world’s proletariat. And thanks to that, our hearts are constantly buoyant and glad. We walk as though in love with our party and its struggle.
I stayed in London for two weeks and today I’m pressing on. In London, I didn’t waste any time. I met many poets, artists, and essayists. I gave an interview to one weekly literary newspaper on my general view of modern poetry, and came to the aid of one translator in compiling an anthology of contemporary Russian poets. See more
I feel like a completely new person, strong and rejuvenated as I was at least fifteen years ago. I've already written a dozen poems, and the verse wanders in my head. I’ve already said that I understand English poorly. The attitude towards Russians here is not bad at all, and toward the revolution it’s even great.
I was received at a government session in the Mariinsky Palace. I made a report; I set forth in detail everything I had, and I said, no longer afraid, sharply, that I had foreseen all of this and warned them about it ahead of time, that I cannot see the actions of the government as anything other than the slow ruin of our armed forces. See more
With that, the government, which had been sitting in a deep silence, thanked me for a thorough report and released me. No one offered any response to my claims.
The politics of accommodating the bourgeoisie, the politics of maneuvering between the revolution and the counterrevolution, is clearly becoming unsustainable. The Provisional Government is decidedly turning toward the path of barefaced counterrevolution. The obligation of the revolutionaries is to band together ever more tightly and to move the revolution forward.
Petrograd. German propaganda is busy in Russia. On the Nevsky Prospect, ten minutes from the Winter Palace, little arguing, expostulating assemblies can be found even as late as 3 o’clock in the morning. They are arguing about the war. Questions why Russia should shed blood in a new offensive to fill the pockets of Anglo-French capitalists can be heard. See more
Assertions that the Germans are the best friends of Russia resound.
The members of the All-Russian Congress have proposed a demonstration for the 1st of July in order to display the strength of revolutionary democracy in contrast to the congresses of landowners, capitalists, etc. See more
It is desirable that this demonstration show not disorder and separation within our powers but our unity and might, and therefore, we must arrange one general demonstration and not a fragmented one composed of separate groups and parties.
After the Congress of Soviets adopted the resolution supporting the offensive, I visited a conference of Cossacks and obtained from the regiment committees of the Petrograd garrison an official promise that the garrison would not take advantage of my absence to make a new traitorous attack on the revolution, and then I was escorted to the front where the offensive was to begin. See more
In Tarnopol, military representatives of all the allied countries came to my train car. The representative of Great Britain to the Russian General Staff promised me on behalf of the king that the British troops would support our offensive.
The art of theatre was left far behind the art of literature, painting, music. Painting, through Cubism, futurism has come to color, Suprematism, literature of poetry to letter, music to sound as it is. See more
The art of theatre stayed behind by the lilac bushes and the lovers’ bed, in cherry gardens, among the bushes of autumnal gardens, with violins, blue birds, has been frozen in a skirt of love, sorrow, melancholy, death, fear and gossip. They adorn this nonsense with sequins of characteristically subjective ability to act.
Repeating a successful show that has survived 100 stagings is the same as cutting out your own tongue, ripping out your nervous system, and substituting it with oakum or a cuckoo clock. An actor who repeats a “successful show” turns into a cliché. Actors of the Art Theatre are lifeless clichés. As the theatre itself, the artists have died long ago, and only its first illusion still holds among the crowd and their corpses still seem alive. It cannot be saved. The search for the blue bird is all in vain, they cannot find solutions, no matter how hard they look in thick books by Dostoevsky and others. They only need to find the flown-away life of the spirit that has died as a result of successful performances.
The borders of contemporary theatre and the contemporary traveling show have been lost in the perceptions of the majority of people, who have begun using the theatre not for any grand cultural mission but simply for the fulfillment of small, bourgeois goals. In this form, the theatre becomes a tool of social evil. The more dangerous it is, the greater the power of its influence.