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neutrality along the frontier and traffic across has practically ceased。 In
the buffet； which was very cold； no food could be bought。 The long
tables once laden with caviare and other zakuski were bare。 There was；
however； a samovar； and we bought tea at sixty kopecks a glass and lumps
of sugar at two roubles fifty each。 We took our tea into the inner passport
room； where I think a stove must have been burning the day before； and
there made some sort of a meal off some of Puntervald's Swedish hard…
bread。 It is difficult to me to express the curious mixture of depression
and exhilaration that was given to the party by this derelict starving station
combined with the feeling that we were no longer under guard but could
do more or less as we liked。 It split the party into two factions； of which
one wept while the other sang。 Madame Vorovsky； who had not been in
Russia since the first revolution； frankly wept； but she wept still more in
Moscow where she found that even as the wife of a high official of the
Government she enjoyed no privileges which would save her from the
hardships of the population。 But the younger members of the party；
together with Litvinov； found their spirits irrepressibly rising in spite of
having no dinner。 They walked about the village； played with the
children； and sang； not revolutionary songs； but just jolly songs； any songs
that came into their heads。 When at last the train came to take us into
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RUSSIA IN 1919
Petrograd； and we found that the carriages were unheated； somebody got
out a mandoline and we kept ourselves warm by dancing。 At the same
time I was sorry for the five children who were with us； knowing that a
country simultaneously suffering war； blockade and revolution is not a
good place for childhood。 But they had caught the mood of their parents；
revolutionaries going home to their revolution； and trotted excitedly up
and down the carriage or anchored themselves momentarily； first on one
person's knee and then on another's。
It was dusk when we reached Petrograd。 The Finland Station； of
course； was nearly deserted； but here there were four porters； who charged
two hundred and fifty roubles for shifting the luggage of the party from
one end of the platform to the other。 We ourselves loaded it into the
motor lorry sent to meet us； as at Bieloostrov we had loaded it into the van。
There was a long time to wait while rooms were being allotted to us in
various hotels； and with several others I walked outside the station to
question people about the mutiny and the bombardment of which we had
heard in Finland。 Nobody knew anything about it。 As soon as the
rooms were allotted and I knew that I had been lucky enough to get one in
the Astoria； I drove off across the frozen river by the Liteini Bridge。 The
trams were running。 The town seemed absolutely quiet； and away down
the river I saw once again in the dark； which is never quite dark because of
the snow； the dim shape of the fortress； and passed one by one the
landmarks I had come to know so well during the last six years…the
Summer Garden； the British Embassy； and the great Palace Square where I
had seen armoured cars flaunting about during the July rising； soldiers
camping during the hysterical days of the Kornilov affair and； earlier；
Kornilov himself reviewing the Junkers。 My mind went further back to
the March revolution； and saw once more the picket fire of the
revolutionaries at the corner that night when the remains of the Tzar's
Government were still frantically printing proclamations ordering the
people to go home； at the very moment while they themselves were being
besieged in the Admiralty。 Then it flung itself further back still； to the
day of the declaration of war； when I saw this same square filled with
people； while the Tzar came out for a moment on the Palace balcony。 By
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RUSSIA IN 1919
that time we were pulling up at the Astoria and I had to turn my mind to
something else。
The Astoria is now a bare barrack of a place； but comparatively clean。
During the war and the first part of the revolution it was tenanted chiefly
by officers； and owing to the idiocy of a few of these at the time of the
first revolution in shooting at a perfectly friendly crowd of soldiers and
sailors； who came there at first with no other object than to invite the
officers to join them； the place was badly smashed up in the resulting
scrimmage。 I remember with Major Scale fixing up a paper announcing
the fall of Bagdad either the night this happened or perhaps the night
before。 People rushed up to it； thinking it some news about the
revolution； and turned impatiently away。 All the damage has been
repaired； but the red carpets have gone； perhaps to make banners； and
many of the electric lights were not burning； probably because of the
shortage in electricity。 I got my luggage upstairs to a very pleasant room
on the fourth floor。 Every floor of that hotel had its memories for me。 In
this room lived that brave reactionary officer who boasted that he had
made a raid on the Bolsheviks and showed little Madame Kollontai's hat
as a trophy。 In this I used to listen to Perceval Gibbon when he was
talking about how to write short stories and having influenza。 There was
the room where Miss Beatty used to give tea to tired revolutionaries and to
still more tired enquirers into the nature of revolution while she wrote the
only book that has so far appeared which gives anything like a true
impresionist picture of those unforgettable days。* ＇（*）〃The Red Heart of
Russia。〃＇ Close by was the room where poor Denis Garstin used to talk
of the hunting he would have when the war should come to an end。
I enquired for a meal； and found that no food was to be had in the