1922

13th January

To Nadezhda Zemskaya

[…] I’m enclosing with this letter the correspondence from Business Renaissance. I hope you’ll feel able (I will try to repay you by doing something for you in Moscow) to send it to one of the Kiev newspapers of your choice (preferably one of the large dailies) as a matter of urgency and offer it to them.

The results could be as follows:

(1) They won’t accept it; (2) they will accept it; (3) they will accept it and find it interesting. If (1), then there’s nothing more to say. If (2), then collect the fee agreed by the journal and send it on to me, deducting for yourself any amount which you calculate you’ve spent on postage and any other expenses arising from your correspondence with me (entirely up to you how much).

If (3), then please put me forward as their Moscow correspondent on any topic of their choice or for some “basement” satirical article on Moscow.* They can then send me an invitation and advance. Tell them that I’m head of the news section, a professional journalist at the Herald. If they print the Renaissance piece, send me two copies by registered post. Please forgive me for troubling you […]. You’ll understand what I must be feeling today, as I disappear up the chimney with the Herald.

In a word, overwhelmed. […]

Bulgakov’s Diary

25th January

(Tatyana’s name day)

Given up writing the diary for a bit. A pity – there’s been a lot of interesting things going on all this time.

I’m still without a job. Taska and I not eating well. So I don’t feel like writing.

Black bread now 20 thousand a pound; white <…> thousand. […]

26th January

Joined a troupe of roving actors. We’ll be playing in the suburbs. 125 roubles a performance. Miserly amount. It will mean I’ll have no time for writing of course – vicious circle.

Taska and I now half-starving.

Didn’t mention that Korolenko’s death* has been marked in the newspapers by masses of complimentary comments.

Vodka at N.G.’s.*

9th February

My life’s never been so black as it is now. Taska and I are starving. Had to ask uncle for a little flour, vegetable oil and some potatoes. Boris has a million. Been all over Moscow at a run, but no job. […] <…> They may be turning No. 3 into a home for starving children.

Professor Ch. has gone overboard, striking the following off the lists of those who receive special rations: all actors, infant prodigies (Meyerhold’s son* was one of those on the list!) and “academics”, such as those from Sverdlovsk University. <…>

14th February

This evening, at the former women’s college on Virgin Fields, A Doctor’s Notebook* was discussed. By half-past six all doorways were crammed with dark masses of students. There were several thousand of them. In the lecture hall <…>

Veresayev is not at all attractive, looks like an elderly Jew, but he’s kept himself very well. He has very narrow eyes, large, bushy eyebrows and a bald patch. Low-pitched voice. I found him very likeable. A completely different impression from the one he used to give when lecturing. A contrast perhaps with the professors. Whereas they ask difficult, boring questions, Veresayev is always close to his students – they look for challenging questions and truthful resolutions. He doesn’t speak very much, but when he does, it always sounds somehow clever and intelligent.

There were two women with him, evidently his wife and daughter. Very nice wife. <…>

15th February

The weather’s got much worse. There’s a frost today. Walking around on totally worn-out soles. My felt boots are useless. We’re half starving. Up to my ears in debt […]

24th March

To Nadezhda Zemskaya

[…] I shan’t even begin to describe what life in Moscow’s like. It’s so extraordinary I’d need eight pages to describe it properly; you wouldn’t be able to understand it otherwise. […] But I’ll mention a few random points anyway.

Most obviously I’ve noticed the following: (1) badly dressed people have disappeared; (2) the number of trams has increased and, if you are to believe the rumours, shops are going bust, theatres (apart from those putting on grotesque shows) are going bust, together with private publishing houses. It’s impossible to talk about prices, since the currency is falling so rapidly that sometimes the price of things changes within a single day. […]

The rest, I repeat, is indescribable. Apartment prices are unbelievable. Luckily for me, this nightmare of an apartment on the fifth floor in which I’ve been struggling to live for six months is inexpensive (700 thousand for March). […]

I’m completely overwhelmed by work. I don’t have any time for writing or for learning French as I should. I’m building a library (prices at second-hand booksellers – the ignorant, insolent swine – are higher than in the shops). […]

It’s now two in the morning. I’m so tired that I can’t even actually remember what I’ve written! Some rubbish or other, but the main thing is it seems I’ve forgotten what it was…

24th March

To Vera Bulgakova*

[…] I’m working very hard for the large newspaper The Worker and the Head of the Scientific and Technical Department. With Boris Mikhailovich Zemsky. Started only recently. The worst issue in Moscow is the question of housing. I’m living in a room left to me by Andrei Zemsky. Bolshaya Sadovaya 10, Apartment 50. A really nasty room, the neighbours also. I don’t feel I’ve settled in, had so much trouble getting everything organized. I won’t begin writing about the cost of living in Moscow. My salary is about 45 million a month (that’s the rate for March). It’s not enough. I need to do all I can to earn some more. I have many acquaintances in Moscow (journalists and artists), but I rarely see any of them, because I’m working so hard, racing around Moscow exclusively on newspaper business. […]