It was enough for the ladies (and for Maroossia too) to see all of these people in power, in order to find interesting points, not only in their political activities, that would not be so bad—but in their private lives too. They all already know who these people are, what they eat, when and where they were born, what their wives and mistresses look like, etc., etc., up to the most intimate deeds and traits of their characters. The foreign ladies also take a very keen interest in those little tea-chats. All prefer to listen to them much rather than to the events at the front.
Vadbolsky wrote me a letter sent through the "Help the Soldiers" society. Of course he could not say much. They all realize that discipline is going down with tremendous speed, at least at the Northern front. The soldiers listen more to what the Council of Deputies say than to anything else. This treble power—the Council, the Government and the Army Authorities—must be united, but there is no one to realize it; and if there were, there would be no possibility of co-ordinating the different currents.
6.
Evening with the Ivanitskys.
After dinner we all went into the library and started as usual to speak of our very bad affairs, the high cost of living, even here, in a private home, reserved, not to be accused of reactionary tastes. The ladies looked at every one who would start to talk, as if he would be the man to solve all of our complicated problems and mishaps.
Baroness B., whom I had seen very much lately, talked to me for a while in a corner, to the ridiculous anger of Maroossia who went to bed tonight without kissing me. She (the Baroness) said that Sophie had already reached London after the stay in Copenhagen and Paris. "Her mission," she said,—as usual coquettishly and childishly looking around with a fear of being overheard,—"was a failure." In Copenhagen "they would not even listen", to Sophie, and she was told that the solution and the "démarches" must be made, if made, from London, as there people have every means to arrange with Berlin. I asked the Baroness to keep all of this news to herself, and not to drag me, or what would be worse, Maroossia, into any conspiracy. "Be just as you are and don't try to become more serious, it may spoil you"—. Heavens knows what the Baroness has become since her peculiar conduct with the Vassilchikov and her permanent whisperings to Madame Vyrubov and the rest of the gang. But still, there was already a movement about Tsarskoe Selo. If I were not so particular about avoiding silly conversations, I would have asked her what she meant by communicating Sophie's failure to me.
Finally, I am glad, I did not ask her questions. What is the use of the Emperor's release to me? A man who did not know how to pick his advisors, who did not know how to arrange his home affairs, his Alice von Hessen Darmstadt, his monks and his generals, does not deserve to be too much regretted, and certainly does not deserve too particular interest. Baroness B's. actions are strange. Is she paid? By whom? Cash? Promises?…
(a page missing)
… was stopped by me and slightly pursed her red lips, we joined the rest, where a British Major (I never can think of his name) was telling of his experiences in the research work for German propaganda in Petrograd. So sorry he had to speak French with his typical Anglo-Saxon struggles with "D" and "T," that makes French so perfectly ununderstandable in an English mouth. It is horrid that people like the Ivanitskys don't know English well enough, and now, when we all have to be among our British allies, we make ourselves, and the allies as well, simply ridiculous!
So the Major explained that their man was at several meetings of a body, which he called "Le conseil secret du parti bolchévique" (that must have been something very bad indeed), where a man by name Lenine was present, also communists Bronstein, Nakhamkes, Kohan, Schwarz and others, I forget. They all are conspiring. "Be no war with our brethren," "Be peace on earth," "Closer together peasants and soldiers, workingmen and poor," "To hell with the intelligentzia," "Long live the International," etc., etc., was all we saw on the banners lately. The queerest thing is that the British agent at the meeting saw amongst the anarchists several men from the police, and a fellow by name of Petrov, the same one that had the accident on the Moscow railway and was asked to leave the Foreign Office a couple of years ago. Now Petrov is with the communists. Again the agent reported the presence of the 1905 blackhundreds. They all are there, and instead the "Boje Tsaria Khrani," they shout the International. They all understand their people (the agent said) and they all are with the Lenine and others, to return to the sweet past by destroying the bitter present. Sir George, the Major continued, knew all about these significant political blocks, and reported them to London, but the Foreign Office and the Conseil de Guerre seem to be either ignorant (I would not be very much surprised), or know more than the Ambassador, so, as yet, our Cabinet has not been warned. Our Cabinet! It sounds majestic…. Since Miliukov left, and the mercantile Monsieur Tereshchenko took his hot seat—everything goes to the devil with our policy abroad. It is strange, for Mr. Tereshchenko must be well posted in foreign relations: both of his French twin mistresses gave him every possibility of becoming "bien versé."