I’ve just heard from eyewitness about what has happened in Moscow. St. Basil the Blessed cathedral and Uspensky cathedral have been destroyed. The Kremlin, where all of our most important artistic treasures from St Petersburg and Moscow are now being kept, is being bombed.
There are thousands of casualties. The war is turning savage and evil. What will happen next? Where do we go from here?! I cannot pull us out of this. I’ve done all I can. I am powerless to stop this horror. It’s impossible to work under the weight of the thoughts coming out of my head. That’s why I’m leaving the Soviet Union in exile. I understand the full weight of this decision. But I can’t do it anymore.
The Bolsheviks destroyed several churches and the Iversky chapel in Moscow.
Right! This is their way of governing - enough to try the patience of a saint.
If you are alive, if I am fated to see you again, listen: yesterday, on the road towards Kharkov, I went past the southern border. There were 9000 dead. I can’t tell you about tonight because it has not ended. It’s a grey morning now. I’m in the corridor. You have to understand! I'm on the move and writing to you and I don't know now... but there are words here that I cannot write. See more
Perhaps you can stay at home? If everyone were to stay, you’d go alone. Because you’re perfect. Because you can’t, in order to kill others. If God makes this miracle happen, and leaves you alive, I’ll follow after you like a dog.
The news is uncertain, I don’t know what to believe. I’m reading about the Kremlin, Tverskaya, Arbat, Metropol, Vosnesenskaya square, and about the mountains of corpses. In the socialist revolutionary papers “Kurskaya Zhizn” from yesterday, I read that disarmament has begun. Others (from today) talk about the fight. I don’t have the will to write now, but I’ve seen how I enter my home thousands of times. Will we be able to enter the city? It’s about 2PM now. In Moscow it’ll be 2AM. And if I go home, there won’t be a soul there will there? Where do I search for you? Maybe we don’t have a home? I have a constant feeling that this is an awful dream.
The Provisional Government was no more. On November 15th, in all the churches of the capital, the priests stopped praying for it.
There is no state power in Russia. Russia has broken up. You rule the territory of over 5-6 regions, but not over Russia. You are not a government, not an authority, you are a party that has clawed itself into power.
When I opened the newspaper by accident, I jumped in my seat: there was a search for a criminal who had the same name as I did in my fake documents. I’m going the commander. He took away my document and easily gave me a new one, also fake.
I was in an old Moscow apartment when the Bolshevik coup took place. I began to remodel my first piano concerto, which I was going to play again, and I was plunged into my work and did not notice what was happening around me. As a result, life during the anarchist coup, which brought death to all those people of non-proletarian origin, was relatively easy for me. See more
I sat all day long at my desk or at the piano, ignoring the rumbling of pistols and rifles. I would meet all of my uninvited guests with the words of Archimedes, which he uttered during the conquest of Syracuse. In the evenings, however, I was reminded of my duties as a “citizen”, and in turn, with other tenants, had to protect the house, as well as take part in the house “committee”, organized immediately after the Bolshevik insurrection.
We reached the forest and stopped. The officer said, "We're here, you should step out, Mr. Kerensky." Sailor Vanya, who arrived with me, joined me and stepped out as well. It was had to realize where we were - I could only see trees around us. Confused, I asked for explanations. "Farewell," said the officer. "Vanya will explain everything. See more
We have to go." He stepped on the accelerator and vanished. "You see," said Vanya. "My uncle has a cabin here. It's quiet and calm. I haven't been here for two years, but there are no servants in the house, there's nothing to be afraid of. We should take this risk, Mr. Kerensky!"
We took a path deeper into the forest. It was completely silent. I tried not to think about the future, what lies ahead for me. I fully trusted these strangers who risked their lives to save mine. Every once in a while Vanya stopped to make sure we were on the right track. I lost track of time; it felt like the road was endless. Suddenly, Vanya said, "We're almost there." Soon, on a small clearing of the woods, I saw a house. "Wait here, I will check what is going on," Vanya rushed into the house and returned almost immediately. "No servants. The maid left yesterday. My aunt and uncle will be delighted to see you. Follow me."
Next day, early, I took the children, Miss White, Jacqueline and my maid, and we installed ourselves in the flat of my daughter Olga Kreutz. At three o'clock in the afternoon I went to Smolny with my permit in the hope of carrying back my husband with me. I remained with him until six.
The shooting did not cease. We were cut off from everything. The servants were afraid to go out to get provisions. When such supplies as we had in the house, and which we used very carefully, were completely exhausted, we were obliged to take counsel and consider our situation. Only a short street and a wide square separated us from the Nicholas station. See more
It seemed that the best thing to do would be to go forth, attracting as little attention as possible, and attempt to return to Petrograd. My husband's orderly was with us in Moscow. He volunteered to go that evening, under the shelter of darkness, to the station and find out whether there was any train service. In his grey soldier's coat he would attract, he felt, no particular attention. I remember how anxiously we saw him go forth. He returned shortly with the information that there were some trains to Petrogradj he had also learned that to all appearances the Bolshevist uprising had succeeded, though the losses were great. A great many buildings, he added, had been damaged, the Kremlin worst of all. We decided to pack our things and go to the station. It was quite late when we left the house and, accompanied by the orderly and the janitor, who carried our suitcases, proceeded along the street plunged in complete darkness. The square was like an inkpot. But we did not meet anyone, and reached the station safely. It presented an extraordinary spectacle. People were sitting or lying all over it, their luggage or bundles piled up by their side. Many had been sitting there for three days without eating, without changing their position. The air was thick and close from human exhalations. Talks, arguments, abuse, rose in a hubbub. In the crowd were many wounded, tied up with all sorts of rags. Here and there sneaked suspicious-looking soldiers, and beggars in indescribable tatters loitered about.We were unable to learn anything except that the Bolsheviks had been victorious the troops loyal to the Provisional Government; nor could we learn whether anything had happened in Petrograd. Finally, after endless inquiries and waiting, we discovered the time of departure of the train for Petrograd. It seemed strange beyond belief that there still existed such things as trains. And when we actually got into a carriage, my astonishment knew no bounds. For it was an ordinary, clean, old-fashioned first-class sleeping-car with a polite conductor, electricity, polished mirrors and doors, and clean bed-linen.