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Updated: May 20, 2025
There were bread riots, car stoning, window smashing, and other such acts, which are more or less common and no one paid much attention to them. On Thursday, the disturbances spread to other parts of the city and crowds began to gather on the Nevski, but the throng was orderly and the police seemed to have little difficulty in keeping it on the move.
How ludicrous it would be now if I, of all men in the world, carried a baby down the Nevski! But it was quite natural that night. The town seemed to me blazing with light. Of course that it cannot have been; there can have only been the stars and some bonfires. And perhaps we stopped at the police-courts which were crackling away.
He was not at his house, but by bribing the doorkeeper I learned that he would be found in a very questionable gambling-house in the vicinity. There I discovered him and drove him to the Gorokhovaya. "Listen," the monk said as I ushered him in. "There is a furrier in the Nevski named Violle. Both he and his wife are dangerous revolutionists and must be arrested at once. You understand eh?"
Late Friday afternoon, while I was walking on the Nevski, a company of mounted police and a large number of Cossacks dashed by on the way to disperse a procession that was coming towards me. When I came up to the Fontanka Bridge I noticed the crowd was gathered about the Cossacks; it patted the horses and cheered their riders, while the police were nowhere in sight.
I saw it all laid out as though I were a great height above it the fashionable streets, the Nevski and the Morskaia with the carriages and the motor-cars and trams, the kiosks and the bazaars, the women with their baskets of apples, the boys with the newspapers, the smart cinematographs, the shop in the Morskaia with the coloured stones in the window, the oculist and the pastry-cook's and the hairdressers and the large "English shop" at the corner of the Nevski, and Pivato's the restaurant, and close beside it the art shop with popular post cards and books on Serov and Vrubel, and the Astoria Hotel with its shining windows staring on to S. Isaac's Square.
The fellow made no attempt to follow me he was too clever a secret agent for that. He merely wished me "sdravstvuite" raised his hat politely and disappeared. A porter carried my bag out of the station, and I drove across the bridge to the large hotel where I had stopped before, the Europe, on the corner of the Nevski Prospect and the Michael Street.
There seemed to be little sign of order or discipline amongst them as they were all shouting different cries: "Down the Fontanka!" "No, the Duma!" "To the Nevski!" Such a rabble was it that I remember that my first thought was of pitying indulgence. So this was the grand outcome of Boris Grogoff's eloquence, and the Rat's plots for plunder! a fitting climax to such vain dreams.
Excited people were moving up and down and from them I learned that about three o'clock a number of people forced their way to the Nevski and were fired upon by the soldiers and the machine guns that were concealed. Among the killed of the day was a captain of police who was knocked down by a Cossack. Sunday night was full of excitement and fear and there were not many who slept soundly.
Through bruised lids he regarded the soot-masked intruder a nihilist, no doubt! His excellency had had one or two experiences with members of secret societies in the past. There was a nest of them in New Jersey. Though how one of them could have managed to get aboard the Nevski, he had no time just then to figure out. The nobleman looked over his shoulder toward a press-button.
Nevski, it must be remembered, was a direct descendant of Monomakh, and of George Dolgoruki, the founder of Moscow. So the first Prince of Moscow was of this illustrious line, a line which has remained unbroken until the present time.
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