We have been terribly anxious for the prisoners since X. returned from the the Peter and Paul Fortress. Things there are bad, the “commandant” himself is afraid of the sailors, who seem capable of anything. We must conspire to have the prisoners removed.
Anywhere would be better than that fortress of sailors and Bolsheviks. It would be completely useless to appeal to Trotsky. Besides how repulsive it would be to have any dealings with him, it would be about as useful as trying to strike up a conversation with an ape.
The news out of Moscow is shocking. (They say things have again calmed down, but it is difficult to believe). The city is completely cut off. Telephone lines are down. Lunacharsky, the “patron of culture”, has been pulling his hair out, gasping and screaming (in the papers) that if things continue as they are he will “leave, leave this Bolshevik government”! He’s going nowhere.
We have also not received any newspapers all this time. The bourgeois press is silent. In the morning we learnt that there are troop movements in Luga, but whose troops? Some assume they are Kerensky’s. There have been skirmishes around Suida. See more
Racked with desperate ennui, I mourn the death of Russia in the ruins of Moscow with a voiceless throat and aching temples.
One of the greatest privations during our captivity at Tobolsk was the almost complete absence of news. Letters only reached us very irregularly and after long delay. As for newspapers, we were reduced to a nasty local rag printed on packing paper, which only gave us telegrams several days old and generally distorted and cut down. See more
We reached Petrograd safely, if not on time. Everything there seemed quiet. We drove home to the Nevsky. The minute I was in the house I rushed upstairs to the Laimings to find out what had happened during our absence.At my entrance they both fell a step backwards as if they were seeing a ghost. See more
Now no-one will be listening to songs.
The days long prophesied have come to pass.
The world has no more miracles. Don't break
My heart, song, but be still: you are the last.
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Comrades! There are here today comrade volunteers from the Red Guards, soldiers and sailors, who within a few hours will leave for Moscow to help our comrades and brothers. The Military Revolutionary Committee attempted to send relief to our brothers in Moscow two days ago, but we were met with hinderance from those who, one would have thought, could only be on our side. See more
A guy called Korotkov told me this story. He lived with his mother, a cleaning lady in the Smolny canteen. One day she heard someone pacing in the canteen. She peeked inside: Ilyich was standing by a table, he took a piece of rye bread and a herring and started eating. Upon seeing the cleaning lady, he got a little embarrassed and told her, smiling: "I suddenly got very hungry."
My pursuers were looking for me everywhere. They had no idea I was right there, right under their nose, between Gatchina and Luga, and not somewhere around Don or in Siberia. For me, there was nothing left to do but to lay low and change my appearance as much as I could. I grew a mustache and a beard.
I told the commander that I had no intention of indefinitely staying in Kiev and doing nothing. I wanted to join my family in Crimea. Moreover, I had to pick up some things that I left in Petrograd, as I was leaving the city in a hurry.