I did not worry about the risks. The prospect of seeing my beloved England outweighed anything else. As it happened I would not see England until Bolshevism and Zionism, ironically, had taken root in the mental soil imported from my own country.
Throughout January I relaxed. Then I became concerned as no news arrived from the Polytechnic about my Diploma. I grew agitated. Next, Mr Green told me that the international situation had become difficult. The package he had originally wanted me to deliver was lost. It would be a little while before he could get another. Inaction distresses me. My attempts to see Lena and Marya were rebuffed. The silly minxes had become frightened of me. Lena had a bruise on her face. She told me I had caused it, but I certainly had no memory of hitting her there.
Mr Green at last informed me that another package was ready. I could not leave just then, because of a sea battle between the English and German fleets which might ease the blockade. He said it would be best to wait a couple of weeks. The package contained secret letters between my Uncle Semya’s firm, Mr Green’s office, and the firm of Rawlinson and Gold, who had a branch in Liverpool. Their main offices, I was told, were at Whitechapel, London. I wished I might be going to Whitechapel. Mr Green said it was important I got to Liverpool and returned on an early ship. I would be a ‘secret courier’ for him, travelling as a student searching for émigré relatives. Soon, of course, I expected secret couriers to be carrying my own plans between friendly governments. I wrote to Professor Vorsin asking about my Diploma. I received a courteous note telling me that the Diploma was in preparation. They were writing to my father to inform him of my success. My ‘father’ was, of course, the priest whose son was currently undergoing TB treatment in Switzerland. It was to be hoped he would know how to respond. Now I had a letter which at least confirmed my right to the Diploma. I began going out again with Kolya. But an increasing number of revolutionaries were taking over our favourite cabarets. I saw Mrs Cornelius once or twice. She said she was getting ‘fed up’ with everything and would like to leave Peter. I told her I would soon be visiting Liverpool. She suggested we travel together. She knew Liverpool, she said, ‘fairly well’. This was good news indeed. I told her what my route would probably be. I promised to find out about train- and sailing-times.
More and more strikes took place, particularly in the industrial suburbs. There were by now far too many voices raised in sympathy. I heard my landlady had had trouble (her house was on the Vyborg side where armed deserters were not above holding up ‘boorzhoo’ women and robbing them). Wounded soldiers with bitter faces talked quite openly about the state of the War, complaining against God and the Tsar, and nobody arrested them.
On 14 February 1917 I received another letter from Professor Vorsin. The Diploma would be prepared and sent to me. He was not sure the Polytechnic could teach me anything further. He would be pleased to meet me there or at my lodgings to discuss the matter. I wrote back saying I would appreciate the talk. It might be best if he recommended me for a government post at once. I received a rather brief reply, signed by his secretary. The contents of my letter had been noted. The professor was giving it his earliest possible attention. I was much cheered up. By the time the Tsar left for Mogilev, to supervise the progress of the War, I was as good as ready to hold the Petrograd fort for him.
There is no need for me to describe what happened later in February 1917. In spite of all, we were taken by surprise. Strikes, mutinies, the Tsar’s abdication, the setting up of Prince Lvov’s Provisional Government, the wild rumours, the wholesale chaos in the streets. Our enemies, Reds and Jews alike, celebrated their wonderful achievement while the people went on starving and the soldiers went on mutinying, and crime ranged the capital unchecked. Professor Vorsin fled Petrograd with half the staff of the Polytechnic. Mr Green was winding up his office. He told me he now planned to take the package to England himself, ‘not that there was a lot of point now’. Kolya joined the Socialist Revolutionary Party. I was left alone and bewildered.
Petrograd became an alien, crazy city. Every day there were demonstrations and meetings. People were openly rude to their superiors. Decent men and women could not go abroad without being molested. Here was democracy and socialism in action. Everything was pulled down. The Tsar was living in virtual exile with his family. Those who had any sense were already taking their money abroad. And still the Provisional Government claimed it could continue to fight a War. They were anxious, of course, not to lose the friendship or loans of countries like England and France. They knew Russia would fall apart without them.
