the bolshevik myth (diary 1920–22)

8/11/2019 The Bolshevik Myth (Diary 192022)

1/216


2/216


3/216

3

Chapter 25. Nestor Makhno . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128

Chapter 26. Prison and Concentration Camp . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133

Chapter 27. Further South . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138

Chapter 28. Fastov the Pogromed . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140Chapter 29. Kiev . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147

Chapter 30. In Various Walks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151

Chapter 31. e Teka . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161

Chapter 32. Odessa: Life and Vision . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164

Chapter 33. Dark People . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174

Chapter 34. A Bolshevik Trial . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 180

Chapter 35. Returning to Petrograd . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183

Chapter 36. In the Far North . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189

Chapter 37. Early Days of 1921 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192

Chapter 38. Kronstadt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 196

Chapter 39. Last Links in the Chain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206


4/216


5/216

5

and searches, and get it safely out of the country. Its Odyssey was adventurousand eventful. Aerhavingjourneyedthrough Russiafor twoyears, the Diarysucceededin crossingthe border,only to belostbeforeit couldjoin me. erefollowed an anxious hunt through severalEuropean lands, and when hope of

locating my notebooks was almost given up, they were discovered in the aic ofa very much frightened old lady in Germany. But that is another story.

Sufficient that the manuscriptwas finally found and can now be presentedtothe publicinthe present volume. If itwillaidinvisualizingtheinner life ofthe Revolution duringthe period described, if itwillbringthereadercloser tothe Russian people and their great martyrdom, the mission of my Diary will beaccomplished and my efforts well repaid.

Alexander Berkman.


6/216

6

Chapter 1. e Log of the Transport

Buford

On Board the U.S.T. Buford.

December23, 1919. We are somewhere near the Azores, already three daysatsea. No one seems to know whitherwe are bound. e captain claims heissailing under sealed orders. e men are nearly crazy with the uncertainty andworry over the women and children le behind. What if we are to be landed onDenikin territory.

* * *

We were kidnapped, literally kidnapped out of bed in the dead of night.Itwaslateinthe evening,December20,whenthe prison keepers entered our

cell at Ellis Island and ordered us to get ready at once. I was just undressing; theothers were in their bunks, asleep. We were taken completely by surprise. Someofus expectedto be deported,butwe had been promised severaldaysnotice;while a numberwereto bereleased on bail, theircases nothaving beenfinallypassed upon by the courts.

We were led into a large, bare room in the upper part of the building. Helter-skelter the men crowdedin,draggingtheir things withthem,badlypackedinthe haste and confusion. At four in the morning the order was given to start. Insilence we filed into the prison yard, led by the guards and flanked on each side

bycityand Federaldetectives. Itwas dark and cold; the nightairchilled metothe bone. Scaered lights in the distance hinted of the huge city asleep.Like shadows we passed through the yard toward the ferry, stumbling on the

uneven ground. We did notspeak; the prison keepers also were quiet. But thedetectiveslaughed boisterously,and swore and sneered at the silent line. Dontlike this country, damn you! Now youll get out, ye sons of b.

At last wereached the steamer. Icaught sight of three women, our fellowprisoners,beingtaken aboard. Stealthily,hersirens dumb, thevesselgotunderway. Within half an hour we boarded theBuford,awaiting us in the Bay.

At6 A.M.,Sunday,December21,we started on our journey.Slowly the bigcity receded, wrapped in a milky veil. e tall skyscrapers, their outlines dimmed,lookedlikefairycastleslit bywinking stars andthen allwas swallowedinthedistance.


7/216

7

* * *

December 24. e Bufordis an old boat built in1885. She was used as amilitary transportduringthe Philippine War,andis notseaworthyanymore.We

ship sea constantly,andit poursthroughthe hatches. Twoinches ofwatercoverthe floor; our things are wet, and there is no steam heat.

Our three women companions occupy a separate cabin. e men are coopedup in crowded, ill-smelling steerage quarters. We sleep in bunks built three tiershigh. e loose wire neing of the one above me bulges so low with the weightof its occupant, it scratches my face whenever the man moves.

We are prisoners. Armed sentinels on deck, inthe gangways, and ateverydoor. ey are silent and sullen; strict orders not to talk to us. Yesterday I offeredone of them an orange I thought he looked sick. But he refused it.

We caughta radiotodayaboutwholesale arrests of theradicalsthroughoutthe United States. Probably in connection with protests against our deportation.

ere is much resentment among our men at the brutality that accompaniedthe deportation,and at the suddenness of the proceedings. eywere given notime to get their money or clothing. Some of the boys were arrested at their work-benches,placedinjail,and deported withouta chanceto collect theirpaychecks.Iam surethat the American people, if informed,would notstandforanotherboat-load of deportees being set adri in the Atlantic without enough clothes tokeep them warm. I have faith in the American people, but American officialdomis ruthlessly bureaucratic.

Love of native soil, of home, is manifesting itself. I notice it especially amongthose who spent only a few years inAmerica. More frequently the men of South-ern Russia speakthe Ukrainianlanguage. All longto get to Russia quickly, tobeholdthelandtheyhad le inthe clutches of Tsarism and whichis nowthe

freest on earth.We have organized a commieetotake a census. ere are 246 ofus,besides

the three women. Various types and nationalities: Great Russiansfrom NewYork and Baltimore; Ukrainian miners from Virginia; Les, Lithuanians, and oneTartar. e majority are members of the Union of Russian Workers, an Anarchistorganization with branchesthroughout the United States and Canada. Abouteleven belong to the Socialist Party in the United States, while some are non-partisan. ere are editors, lecturers, and manual workers of every kind amongus. Some are bewhiskered, looking typicallyRussian; others smooth-shaven,Americanin appearance. Most of the men are ofdecided Slavic countenance,with broad face and high cheek bones.

Well work like devils for the Revolution, Big Samuel, the West Virginia miner,announces to the group gathered around him. He talks Russian.


8/216

8

You bet we will, comes from a corner bunk in English. Its the mascot of ourcabin, a red-cheeked youth, a six-footer, whom we have christened the Baby.

MeforBaku,an olderman joinsin. Im an oildriller. eyllneed me allright.

IponderoverRussia,a country inrevolution,a social revolution which hasuprooted the very foundations, political, economical, ethical. ere are theAlliedinvasion, the blockade, and internal counter-revolution. All forces must be bent,firstofall, to securethe completevictoryof the workers. Bourgeoisresistancewithin must be crushed; interferencefrom without defeated. Everything elsewillcomelater. Tothinkthat itwas givento Russia,enslaved andtyrannizedover for centuries, to usher in the New Day! It is almost beyond belief, pastcomprehension. Yesterday the mostbackward country; today inthevanguard.Nothing short of a miracle.

Unreservedly shall the remaining years of my life be consecrated to the serviceof the wonderful Russian people.

December 25. e military force of theBufordis in command of a Colonel ofthe United States Army, talland severe-looking,about fiy. In his charge are anumber of officers and a very considerable body of soldiers, most of them of theregulararmy.Directsupervision over the deporteesis giventotherepresentativeof the Federal Government, Mr. Berkshire, who is here with a number of SecretService men. e Captain of theBufordtakes his orders from the Colonel, who isthe supreme authority on board.

e deportees want exercise on deck andfree association with our womencomrades. Astheirchosen spokesmanI submiedtheirdemandsto Berkshire,but he referred me to the Colonel. I refused to apply to the laer, on the groundthat we are political, not military, prisoners. Later the Federal man informed methat the higherauthoritieshad granted us exercise,butassociation withthewomen was refused. Permission, however, would be given me to convince myselfthat the ladies are receiving humane treatment.

Accompanied byBerkshire and one ofhis assistants, Iwas allowedtovisitEmma Goldman, Dora Lipkin-Perkus, and Ethel Bernstein. I found them on theupper deck,Dora and Ethel bundled up and much the worse for sea-sickness, themotherly nurse ministering to them. ey looked forlorn, those dangerous ene-mies of the United States. e powerfulAmericanGovernment never appearedto me in a more ridiculous light.

e women made no complaints: they are treated well and receive good food.But all three are penned in a small cabin intended for one person only; day andnight armed sentinels, guard their door.

Notrace ofChristappeared anywhere onthe shipthis Christmas Day. eusualespionage and surveillance, the same discipline and severity. But inthe


9/216

9

general messroom, at dinner, there was an addition to the regular meal: currantbread and cranberries. More than half of the tables were vacant, however: mostof the men are in their bunks, sick.

December 26. Rough sea,and more menlaid out. e six-foot Baby isthe

sickestof them all. e hatches have been closedto keepthe sea out,and it issuffocating below deck. ere areforty-nine menin ourcompartment; therestare in the two adjoining ones.

e ship physician has asked me to assist him on his daily rounds, as interpreterand nurse. e men suffermostly from stomach and bowelcomplaints;but thereare also cases of rheumatism, sciatica, and heart-disease. e Boris brothers arein a precarious condition; youngJohn Birkis growingveryweak;a numberofothers are in bad shape.

December 27. e Boston deportee, a former sailor, claims the course of theBufordwas changedtwice duringthe night. Perhaps makingfor the PortugalCoast,he said. It isrumored we maybe turned over toDenikin. e men are

much worried.Human psychologyeverywhere has a basic kinship. Evenin prisonI foundthe deepest tragedieslit up bya touch ofhumor. In spite of the greatanxietyregarding,ourdestination, thereis muchlaughterandjoking, in ourcabin.Somewit among the boys has christened the Bufordthe Mystery Ship.

In the aernoon Berkshire informed me that the Colonel wished to see me. Hiscabin,not large,but lightand dry, is quite different from oursteerage quarters.e Colonel asked me what part of Russia we were expecting to go to. e Sovietpart, of course, I said. He began a discussion of the Bolsheviki. e Socialists, heinsisted, wanted to take away the hard-earned wealth of the rich, and divide itamong the lazy and the shiless. Everyone willing to work could succeed in theworld, he assured me; at least America the freest country on earth gives allan equal opportunity.

I had to explain to him theAB C of social science, pointing out that no wealthcan be created exceptby labor;andthatbycomplex juggling legal, financial,economic the producer is robbed of his product. e Colonel admied defectsandimperfectionsin oursystem eveninthe bestsystem of the world, theAmerican.But theyare humanfailings;we needimprovement,not revolution,he thought. He listened with unconcealed impatience when I spoke of the crimeofpunishing menfor theiropinions andthefollyofdeportingideas. He believesthe government must protect its people, and that these foreign agitators haveno business in America, anyhow.

Isawthefutilityofdiscussing with a person ofsuchinfantile mentality,and

closed the argument by inquiringthe exact point ofour destination. Sailingunder sealed orders, was all the information the Colonel would vouchsafe.


10/216


11/216

11

Everyone exceptBiankiand myself is keepingto his bunk. Some are seriouslyill. Biankis nephew, the young school boy, has lost his hearing. John Birk is verylow. Novikov, former editor of the New York Anarchist weekly, Golos Truda, hasnttouchedfoodfordays. In EllisIsland he spentmostofhistimeinthe hospital.He

refused to accept bail as long as the others arrested with him remained in prison.He consented only when almost at the point of death, and then he was draggedto the boat to be deported.

It is hard to be torn out of the soil one has rooted in for over thirty years, andto leave the labors of a life-time behind. Yet I am glad: I face the future, not thepast.Already in1917,at the outbreak of the Revolution, I longedto goto Russia.Shatov,myclose friend and comrade, was about to leave, andIhopedtojoinhim. But the Mooneycase andthe needs of the antiwarmovementkeptme inthe United States. en came my arrest for opposing the world slaughter, and mytwo years imprisonment in Atlanta.

ButsoonIshallbein Russia. What joy to beholdthe Revolution with myown

eyes, to become part of it, to aid the great people that are transforming the world!January 5. Pilotboat! Great rejoicing! Sentwireto our friendsin NewYorkto allay the anxiety they must feel because of our mysterious disappearance.

January 7. Were in the North Sea. Clear, quiet, cool. In the aernoon a bitrolling.

e singing of the boys reaches me from the deck. I hear the strong baritoneofAlyosha, thezapevalo,who begins everystanza, the whole crowdjoininginthe chorus. Old Russianfolk songs withtheirmournful refrain,dripping quietresignation and the suffering of centuries. Songs palpitating with the frank hatredof thebourzhooiand the militancyof impending struggle. Church hymns withtheir crescendo recitative, paraphrased by revolutionary words. e soldiers andsailors stand about wrapt in the weird, heart-gripping melodies. Yesterday I heardour guard absent-mindedly hummingStenka Razin.

Weve goen so friendly with our guards now that we do as we please belowdeck. Ithas becomethe establishedruleforsoldiers and deportees never to appealtothe officersinthe case ofdispute. Allsuch maers arereferredto me, andmy judgment isrespected. Berkshire hasrepeatedlyhinted his displeasure at theinfluence I have gained. He feels himself entirely ignored.

e sameness of thefoodis disgusting. e breadis stale and doughy.We havemade several protests, and at last the chief steward agreed to my proposition toput two men of our group in charge of the bakery.

January 8. At anchor in the Kiel Canal. Leaks in the boiler repairs begun.e men are chafing the accident maycause much delay. Were sick of the

journey. Eighteen days at sea already.


12/216

12

Mostof the deporteesle theirmoneyand effectsinthe United States. Manyhave bank deposits which they could not draw because of the suddenness of theirarrestand deportation. Ihave prepared a listof thefunds andthings owned byourgroup. etotalamountsto over $45,000. I turnedthelistover to Berkshire

today, who promised to aend to the maer in Washington. But few of the boyshave any hope of ever receiving their clothes or money.

January 9. Much excitement. For two days weve had nofresh air. Ordersare not to permitus on deck aslong as weremainin German waters. eyareafraid we might communicate with the outside or jump overboard, as Berkshirejocosely said. I told him the only place we want to jump off at is Soviet Russia.

I sent word to the Colonel that the men demand daily exercise. e atmosphereinthe steerageis beastly: the hatches are shut,and we are almostsuffocating.Berkshire resented the manner in which I addressed the Chief.

e Colonel is the highest authority on the Buford, he shouted.e group ofdeportees aboutme grinnedin hisface. Berkmanisthe only

Colonel we recognize, they laughed.I told Berkshire to repeat our message to the Colonel: we insist on fresh air; incase of refusalwe willgo on deck by force. e men are preparedto carryouttheir threat.

In the aernoon the hatches were opened, and we were permied on deck. Wenoticed that the destroyerBallard,U.S.S. 267, is alongside of us.

January 10. We are in the Bay, opposite the City of Kiel. On either side of usstretches of land with beautiful villas and clean-lookingfarmhouses, the stillnessof death over all. Five years of carnage have le their indelible mark. e bloodhas been washed away, but the hand of destruction is still visible.

eGerman Qartermaster came on board. You are surprised at the stillness?he said. We are being starved to death by the kindly powers that set out to makethe world safe for democracy. We are not yet dead, but we are so faint we cannotcry out.

January 11. We got intouch withthe German sailors of theWasserversorger,which brought us fresh water. Ourbakers gavethem food. rough the port-holes we fired bread balls, oranges, and potatoes onto, the boat. Her crew pickedupthe things,and readthe notes hiddeninthem. One of the messages was aGreeting of the American Political Deportees to the Proletariat of Germany.

Later. Mostof the convoyand severalofficers are drunk. e sailors gotsnappsfrom theGermans and have been selling it on board. Long Sam wentgunning forhisfirst lieutenant. Severalsoldiers called mefora secretconfaband proposed that I take charge of the ship. ey would arrest their officers, turn

the boat over to me, and come with us to Russia. Damn the United States Army,were with the Bolsheviks! they shouted.


13/216

13

January 12. At noon Berkshire called me to the Colonel. Both looked nervousand worried. e Colonel regarded me with distrustand hatred. He had beeninformed that I was inciting mutiny among his men. Youve been fraternizingwiththe soldiers and weakeningthe discipline,he said. He declaredthatguns,

ammunition, and officers apparel were missing, and instructed Berkshire to havethe effects of the deportees searched. Iprotested: the men would notsubmit tosuch an indignity.

Returning below deck I learned that several soldiers were under arrest forinsubordination and drunkenness. e guards have been doubled at our door, andthe convoy officers are much in evidence.

We passed the day in anxious suspense, but no aempt to search us was made.January 13. We gotunderwayagain at 1:40P.M.Makingfor the Baltic. I

wonderhow thisleakyboatwillnavigatethe North Sea andfight theicethere.e boys, includingthe soldiers,areverynervous: we are on a dangerousroad,full of war mines.

Two of the ships crew areinthecooler forhaving overstayedtheirshore-leave. Iwithdrew ourmen fromthe bakery in protestagainst the arrestof thesailors and soldiers.

January 15. e 25th day at sea. We all feel worn out, tired of the longjourney. In constant fear lest we strike some mine.

Ourcourse has been changed again. Berkshire hintedthis morningthatcondi-tions at Libau willnotpermitourgoingthere. Igatheredfrom histalkthat theUnited StatesGovernment has so far failed to make arrangements for our landingin any country.

Sailors have overheard the Colonel, the Captain, and Berkshire discussing ourgoing to Finland. e scheme is to send me, in company with Berkshire, with awhiteflag, 70 milesinland, to cometo some understanding withthe authoritiesabout our landing. If we are successful, I am to remain there, while Berkshire isto return to our people.

e deportees are opposed to the plan. Finland is dangerous for us theMannheimer reaction is slaughtering the Finnish revolutionists. e men refuseto let me go. Well all go together, or no one shall, they declare.

Evening. is aernoon two American press correspondents boarded us,nearHango,andthe Colonelgavethem permissiontointerview me.AmericanConsul from Helsingfors is also on board with his secretary. He is trying to getpower of aorney from the deportees to collect their money in the United States.Many of the boys are transferring their bank accounts to relatives.

January 16. 4:25P.M.Reached Hango, Finland. Helsingforsinaccessible,

they say.


14/216

14

January 17. Landed,2 P.M.Sent radiostoTchicherin(Moscow)and Shatov(Petrograd)notifyingthem of the arrivalof thefirstgroup ofpoliticaldeporteesfrom America.

We areto travel in sealed carsthrough Finlandtothe Russian border. e

Captain of theBufordallowed us three days rations for the journey.eleave-taking of the crew and soldierstouched me deeply. Manyof them

have become aachedto us,and theyhavetreated us white, to usetheirownexpression. ey made us promise to write them from Russia.

January 18. Crossing snow-clad country. Cars cold, unheated. e compart-ments arelocked,with Finnish guards on everyplatform. Even within aretheWhite soldiers, at every door. Silent, forbidding looking. ey refuse to enter intoconversation.

2 P. M. In Viborg. We are practically without food. e Finnish soldiers havestolen most of the products given us by theBuford.

rough our car windows we notice daFinnishworker standingon the platform

and surreptitiously signaling us with a miniature red flag. We waved recognition.Halfan hour later the doors ofourcarwere unlocked,andthe workman enteredto fix the lights, as he announced. Fearful reaction here, he whispered; Whiteterror against the workers. We need the help of revolutionary Russia.

Wired againtoday toTchicherin and Shatov,urging hastein sending a com-miee to meet the deportees on the Russian border.

January 19. In Teryoki, near the border. No reply from Russia yet. eFinnish military authorities demand we should crossthe frontieratonce. Wehave refused because the Russian border guard, not informed ofour identity,might regard us asinvading Finns and shoot, thus giving Finland a pretext forwar. A sort of armed truce exists now between the two countries, and feeling isvery tense.

Noon. e Finns are worried aboutourcontinued presence. Werefusetoleave the train.

Representatives of the Finnish ForeignOffice agreedto permita Commiee ofthe Deporteesto go tothe Russianfrontier to explainthe situationtothe Sovietoutpost. Our party selected threepersons, but the Finnish military would consentonly to one.

In company with a FinnishOfficer, soldier, and interpreter, and trailed byseveralcorrespondents(amongthem,needlessto say,an American press man)Iadvancedtothe border,walkingin deep snowthroughthe sparseforestwestof the destroyed frontier railroad bridge. Not without trepidation did we trudgethrough those white woods, fearing possible aack from the one side or the other.


15/216

15

Aera quarterofan hourwe reachedthe border. Opposite us were drawnup the Bolshevik guardstall, strapping fellows in strange fur aire, with a black-bearded officer in charge.

Tovarisht!Ishoutedin Russian acrossthefrozen creek, permitspeech with

you.e officer motioned me to step nearer, his soldiers standing back as I ap-

proached. In a few wordsIexplainedthe situationto him and ourpredicamentat Tchicherins failure to reply to our repeated radios. He listened imperturbably,then said: e Soviet Commiee has just arrived.

Itwas happynews. e Finnish authorities consentedto permit the RussianCommiee to come on Finnish soil as far as the train, to meet the deportees.Zorin and Feinberg, representing the Soviet Government, and Mme. Andreyeva,Gorkis wife,who came withthem unofficially,accompanied ustotherailroadstation.

Koltchak has been arrested and his White Army broken up, Zorin an-

nounced, and the deportees greeted the news with enthusiastic shouts and hurrahs.Presently arrangements were completed to transport the men and their luggageto the other side, and at last we crossed the border of revolutionary Russia.


16/216

16

Chapter 2: On Soviet Soil

January 20, 192O. Latein the aernoon yesterday we touched the soilof

Soviet Russia.Driven out from the United Stateslike criminals, we werereceived at Belo-

Ostrov with open arms. e revolutionary hymn, played by the military Red Band,greeted us as we crossed the frontier. e hurrahs of thered-capped soldiers,mixed with the cheers of the deportees, echoed through the woods, rolling intothe distance like a challenge of joy and defiance. With bared head I stood in thepresence of the visible symbols of the Revolution Triumphant.

Afeeling of solemnity, of awe overwhelmed me. us my pious old forefathersmusthavefeltonfirstenteringthe HolyofHolies. A strong desire was upon meto kneel down and kiss the ground the ground consecrated by the life-blood ofgenerations of suffering and martyrdom, consecrated anew by the revolutionists

ofmyown day. Never before, not even at the first caress of freedom on thatglorious Mayday, 1906aer fourteenyearsinthe Pennsylvania prisonhadIbeen stirred so profoundly. I longed to embrace humanity, to lay my heart at itsfeet, to give my life a thousand times to the service of the Social Revolution.

It was the most sublime day of my life.

* * *

AtBelo-Ostrova mass meeting was heldto welcome us. elarge hallwasfilled with soldiers and peasants come to greet their comradesfrom America.ey looked at us with large, wondering eyes, and asked many strange questions.Arethe workers starvingin America? Istherevolution about to break out?

How soon shall we get help for Russia?e crowded place was heavywiththe human smellandthefumes of tobacco.

ere was much pushing andjostling,andloud shoutinginrough borderspeech.Darkness hadfallen, but the hall remained unlit. I felta peculiarsensationinbeing swayed here and there by the noisy human billows, without being able todistinguish any faces. enthevoices andthe motion ceased. Myeyesturnedtowardthe platform. Itwas lit bya fewtallow candles,and intheirdimlight Icould make out the figures of several women clad in black. ey looked like nunsjust out of the cloister, their countenances severe, forbidding. en one of themstepped to the edge of the platform.

Tovarishti,she began, and the significant word vibrated through my whole

being withthe intensityof the speakers ardor. She spoke passionately, vehe-mently, with a note of bier defiance at the antagonistic world at large. She told


17/216

17

of the high heroism of the revolutionary people, of their sacrifices and struggles,of the great work still to be done in Russia. She castigated the crimes of counter-revolutionists, the Alliedinvasion and murderous blockade. Infierywords sheforecast the approach of the greatworldrevolution,whichisto destroycapitalism

and the bourgeoisie throughout Europe andAmerica, as Russia has done, and givethe earth and the fullness thereof into the hands of the international proletariat.

Tumultuously the audience applauded. I felt the atmosphere charged withthespirit of revolutionary struggle, symbolic of the titanic war of two worlds thenew breaking violent path for itself amid the confusion and chaos of conflictingpassions. Iwas conscious ofa worldinthe making,of the all-uprootingSocialRevolution in action, and myself in the midst of it.

Zorinfollowedthe womanin black, welcomingthe arrivalsinthe name ofSovietRussia,and bespeakingtheircoperationinthe work of the Revolution.en several of the deportees appeared on the rostrum. ey were deeply movedby the wonderful reception, theysaid,and filled with admirationfor the great

Russian people, the first to throw off the yoke of capitalism and establish libertyand brotherhood upon the earth.I was stirred to the depths of my being, too profoundly for words. Presently I

became aware ofpeople nudging me and whispering, Speak,Berkman,speak!Answer him! I had become absorbed in my emotion and did not listen to the manon the platform. I looked up. Bianki was speaking, the young Russian of Italiandescent. I stood aghast as his words slowly carried comprehension to my mind.We Anarchists,he was saying, are willingto work withthe Bolsheviki if theywill treatus right. But Iwarnyouthatwe wontstandforsuppression. If youaempt it, it will mean war between us.

I jumped onthe platform. Letnot this greathourbe debased byunworthythoughts, Icried. From now on we are allone onein the sacred work ofthe Revolution, one in its defense, one in our common aim for the freedom andwelfare of the people. Socialists orAnarchistsour theoreticaldifferences arelebehind.We are all revolutionists now,and shoulder to shoulderwellstand,together to fight and to work for the liberating Revolution. Comrades, heroes ofthe great revolutionary struggles of Russia, in the name of the American deporteesIgreet you. IntheirnameI say toyou: Weve cometolearn,not toteach. Tolearn and to help!

e deportees applauded,otherspeechesfollowed,and soonthe unpleasantBianki incidentwasforgoen. Amid greatenthusiasmthe meeting closedlateinthe evening, the whole audience joining in the singing of the International.

On the way to the station, where a train was waiting to take us to Petrograd,

alarge boxofAmerican crackersfelloff the sleigh. e accompanying soldiershungrily pounced upon it, but when told that the provisions were for the children


18/216


19/216

19

Chapter 3. In Petrograd

January 21, 1920. e brightwintersun shines uponthe broad white bosomof the Neva. Statelybuildings on either side of the river, withthe Admiraltyrearing its slender peak on high, foppishly graceful. Majestic edifices as far as theeye canreach, the WinterPalacetoweringintheirmidst in coldtranquillity. ebrassrideronthetrembling steedis poised ontherough Finnishrock,1 about toleap over the tall spire of the Petropavlovskaya guarding the city of his dream.

Familiar sight ofmy youth passed in the Tsars capital. But gone are thegilded glory of the past, the royal splendor, the gay banquets of nobles, and theiron columns of the slavish military marching to the thunder ofdrums. ehand ofRevolution hasturnedthe cityof luxuriousidlenessintothe home oflabor. e spiritof revolthas changed eventhe names of the streets. e Nevsky,immortalized by Gogol, Pushkin, and Dostoyevsky, has become the Prospect of

October25th; the squareinfrontof the WinterPalaceis now namedin honorofUritsky; the Kamenovstrovsky is called the Red Dawn. At the Duma theheroic bust of Lassale faces the passers-by as the symbol of the New Day; on theKonoguardeiskyBoulevard standsthe statue of Volodarsky,arm outstretched,addressing the people.

Almosteverystreet reminds me of the paststruggles. ere, infrontof theWinterPalace, stood the priest Gaponin the midst of the thousandsthat hadcome to beg the Lile Father for mercy and bread. e square ran crimson withthe blood of the workers on that fateful January day in 1905. Out of their graves,a year later, rose the first Revolution, and again the cries of the oppressed weredrowned by the crack of artillery. A reign of terror followed, and many perished

on the scaffold and in the prisons. But again and again rose the specter of revolt,and at last Tsarism gave way,powerlessto defenditself, forsaken byall, regreedby none. en came the great October Revolution and the triumph of the people and Petrograd ever in the first line of bale.

* * *

e city looks deserted. Its population, nearly 3,000,000 in 1917, is now reducedto500,000. Warand pestilence have almostdecimated Petrograd. InthefightsagainstKaledin,Denikin,Koltchak,and otherWhiteforces, the workers of theRed City lost heavily. Its best proletarian element died for the Revolution.

1 Statue of Peter the Great


20/216

20

e streets are empty; the people are in the factories, at work. On the cornerthe young womanmilitsioner,rifle in hand, walks to and fro, stamping with herbooted feet on the ground to keep warm. Now and then a solitary figure passes,all wrapped up and bent, dragging a heavy load on a sleigh.

e stores are closed, their shuers on. e signs still hang in their accustomedplaces painted fruit and vegetables advertising the wares no more to be foundwithin. Doors and windows are locked and barred, and everything is silent about.

efamous Apraksin Dvor is no more.All the wealth of the country,boughtorstolen,usedto be paradedtheretotempt the passer-by. High-bornbarinyaand chambermaid,good-natured blond peasantand sullenTartar,absent-mindedstudent and cray thief, mingled here in the free democracy of the market place.All things were to be had in the Dvor; human bodies were bought and sold, andsouls bartered for money.

It is all changed now. At the entrance of the Labor Temple flames the legend:Who does not work shall not eat.

In the public stolovaya (dining room) vegetable soup and kasha(gruel)areserved. e diners bring withthemtheirown bread, issued at the distributingpoints. e large room is unheated, and the people sit with their hats and coatson. ey look cold and pale,pitifullyemaciated. Ifonly the blockade weretakenoff, my neighbor at the table says, we might be saved.

* * *

Some parts of the city bear evidence of the recent Yudenitch campaign. Hereandthere are remnants ofbarricades, piles ofsand bags, and artillery trainedupontherailroad station. e storyof that fight is stillon everybodyslips. Itwas a superhuman effort, lileVera enthusiastically related. e enemywasfive times our number and at our very gates on KrasnayaGorka seven milesfromthe City. Men and women,even children, turned out to build barricades,carry munitions to the fighters, and prepare to defend our homes to the lasthand-to-hand struggle. Vera is only eighteen, fair and delicate as a lily, but sheoperated a machine gun.

So sure were the Whites of their victory, Vera continued, they had alreadydistributed the ministerial portfolios and appointed the military governor ofPetrograd. Yudenitch officials with their staffs were secretly in the city, waitingonly for the triumphant entryof their Chief. We werein desperate straits; itseemed that all was lost. Our soldiers, reduced in numbers and exhausted, weredisheartened. Itwasjust thenthatBillShatov rushedtothe scene.He gathered

the lile army about him, and addressed them in the name of the Revolution. His


21/216

21

powerful voice reached the furthest lines; his passionate eloquence lit the embersof revolutionary zeal, inspiring new strength and faith.

Forward,boys! For the Revolution!Shatov thundered, and like desperatefuriesthe workersthrewthemselves upontheYudenitch army. eflowerof the

Petrograd proletariat perished in that struggle, but the Red City and the Revolutionwere saved.

Withjustified pride Shatovshowed methe orderof the Red Bannerpinned onhis breast. For Krasnaya Gorka, he said, with a happy smile.

He has remained the jovial good fellow I knew him inAmerica, made riper andmore earnest by his experience in the Revolution. He has held many importantpositions, and has won a reputation as an efficient worker and successful organizer.He has not joined the Communist Party; on many vital points, he says, he disagreeswiththe Bolsheviki. He has remained an Anarchist, believinginthe ultimateabolition of political government as the only sure road to individual liberty andgeneral well-being.

Just now we are passing through the difficult stage of violent social revolution,Shatov said. Several fronts are to be defended, and we need a strong, well-disciplined army. ere are counter-revolutionaryplotsto be guarded againstandtheTcheka mustkeep a watchfuleye on the conspirators. Ofcourse, theBolsheviki have commied many errors; thats because they are human. We liveinthe period of transition,ofmuch confusion,constantdanger,and anxiety. Itis the hourof travail,and men are neededto helpin the work ofdefense andreconstruction. We Anarchists shouldremaintrueto our ideals,butweshouldnot criticize at this time. We must work and help to build.

* * *

e Buforddeportees are quartered in the Smolny. Zorins invitation Iamstaying at the Hotel Astoria, now known as the First House of the Soviet. Zorin,who was employedinAmerica as a millman, is now Secretaryof the PetrogradSection of the Communist Party, and the editor of the KrasnayaGazea, theofficialdailyof the Soviet. Heimpresses me as a mostdevoted Communistandindefatigable worker. His wife, Liza,also an American emigrant, isthetypicalI.W.W. ough very feminine in figure, she is rough and ready of speech, and anenthusiastic Bolshevik.

Togetherwe visitedthe Smolny. Formerly the exclusive home ofhigh-bornyoungladies, it is nowthe busyseatof the Petrograd Government. e quartersof the ird International are also located here, and the sanctum ofZinoviev,

its secretary, a large chamber sumptuously furnished and decorated with poed


22/216

22

flowers and plants. On his desk I noticed a leather portfolio of huge size, the giof his co-workers.

In the Smolnydiningroom I met a numberofprominentCommunists andSovietofficials. Some werein militaryuniform,othersin corduroys and black

studentshirts belted at the waist, thetails on the outside. All looked pale,withsunken eyes and high cheek bones, theresultofsystematic undernourishment,overwork, and worry.

e dinnerwas much superior to the meals served in the public stolovaya.Only the responsible workers, Communists holding important positions, dinehere, Zorin remarked. ere are several gradations ofpyo (rations), he ex-plained. Soldiers and sailorsreceive one and a halfpounds ofbread perday;alsosugar,salt, tobacco,and meatwhen possible. efactoryworkers getone pound,whilethe non-producers mostof themintelligentsia receive halfa poundand even less. ere is no discrimination about this system, Zorin believes; it isjust division, according to the value of ones work.

I remember Veras remark. Russia is very poor, she said; but whatever thereis, all should share alike. at would be justice, and no one could complain.

* * *

In the evening I aended the anniversary celebration ofAlexander Herzen. Forthefirst timeI found myselfwithinthe walls of theTsars Palace,whoseverymention hadfilled me with awein mychildhood. NeverhadIdreamedthenthattheforbidden name ofHerzen, thefeared Nihilistand enemyof the Romanovs,would some day be glorified there.

Red flags and bunting decorated the plaform. With interest I read the inscrip-tions:

Socialism is the religion of Man;

A religion not of heaven but of the earth.

e reign of the workers and peasants forever.

Alarge crimson banner represented a bell (Kolokol),the name of thefamouspaperpublished byHerzenin exile. Onits side was stamped: 18701920,andbeneath, the words:

Not in vain have you died;

What you have sown will grow.


23/216

23

Aer the meeting the audience marched to the home of Herzen, still preservedon the Nevsky. e demonstration through the dark streets, lit only by the torchesof the participants, the strains of revolutionary music and song, the enthusiasmof the men and womenindifferent tothe biercoldall impressed me deeply.

e moving silhouees seemed the shades of the past come to life, the martyrs ofTsardom risen to avenge the injustice of the ages.

How true is the Herzen moo:

Not in vain have you died;

What you have sown will grow.

* * *

e assemblyhallof theTauride Palace wasfilled with Sovietdeputies andinvited guests. Aspecialsession had been calledto consider the difficultsituation

created by the severe winter, and the growing scarcity of food and fuel.Row aboverow stretched before me,occupied bymen and womenin grimyworking clothes, their faces pale, theirbodies emaciated. Here andthere weremenin peasantgarb. eysatquietly,conversinglile,as ifexhausted by thedays toil.

e militaryband struck uptheInternational,andthe audiencerosetotheirfeet. en Zinoviev ascended the platform. e winter had caused much suffering,he said; heavy snowfall impedes railroad traffic, and Petrograd is almost isolated.Afurther reduction of thepyo(ration) has unfortunately become necessary. Heexpressed confidencethat the workers ofPetrograd the most revolutionary,the advance-guard of Communism would understand that the Government iscompelled to take this step, and would approve its action.

e measureistemporary,Zinovievcontinued. e Revolutionis achievingsuccess on all fronts the glorious Red Army is winning great victories, the Whiteforces willsoon be entirelydefeated, the countrywillgetonitsfeeteconomically,and the workers will reap the fruit of their long martyrdom. e imperialists andcapitalists of the whole world are against Russia, but the proletariat everywhereis with the Revolution. Soon the Social Revolution will break out in EuropeandAmerica it cannot be far offnow, for capitalism is crumbling to eartheverywhere. en there willbe an end to war andfratricidal bloodshed, andRussia will receive help from the workers of other countries.

Radek, recently returnedfrom Germanywhere he was a prisoner, followedZinoviev. He gave an interesting account of his experience, lashing the German

socialpatriotswith biting sarcasm. A psuedo Socalist Party,he said, now inpower,but too cowardly tointroduce Socialism; traitorstothe Revolutionthey


24/216

24

are, those Scheidemanns,Bernsteins,etal.,bourgeoisreformists,agents ofAlliedmilitarism andinternationalcapital. e onlyhopeisinthe CommunistPartyofGermany which is growing by leaps and bounds, and is supported by theproletariatofGermany.Soonthatcountrywillbe sweptby revolutionnota

make-believe SocialDemocratic one, but a Communist revolution, such as that ofRussia, and then the workers ofGermany will come to the aid of their brothers inRussia, and the world will learn what the revolutionary proletariat can accomplish.

Joffe wasthe nextspeaker.Ofaristocratic appearance,welldressed,his beardneatly trimmed, he seemed strangely out ofplace in the assembly of ill-cladworkers. As Chairman of the Peace Commiee he reported on the conditions ofthe treaty just concluded with Latvia, receiving the applause of the assembly. epeople are evidently eager for peace, whatever the conditions.

Ihad hopedto hear the deputies speak,andtolearntheviews and sentimentsof the masses they represent. But the members of the Soviet took no active partinthe proceedings. ey listened quietly tothe speakers,andvoted mechanically

on the resolutionspresented by the Presidium. ere was no discussion; theproceedings lacked vitality.

* * *

Some friction has developed among the Buforddeportees. e Anarchistscomplain of discrimination in favor of the Communist members of the group, andI have been repeatedly called to the Smolny to smooth out difficulties.

e boys chafe at the delay in assigningthemto work. Ihave preparedtheanqueesof the group, classifying the deportees according to trade and ability, toaid in placing them to best advantage. But two weeks have passed, and the menare still haunting the Soviet departments, standing in line by the hour, seeking tobe supplied with the necessarypropuskiand documents admiing them to work.

I have pointed out to Zorin what a valuable asset these deportees are to Russia:there are mechanics,miners,printers amongthem,neededinthe presentscarcityof skilled labor. Why waste their time and energy? I cited the maer of exchangingAmerican currency. Most of the deportees brought some money with them. eirpyois insufficient, butcertain necessaries can be bought: bread, buer,andtobacco,even meat,are offered onthe markets. At leasta hundred ofourboyshave exchanged theirAmerican cash for Soviet money. Considering that each onehad to find out for himself where the exchange could be made, oen being directedwrongly,andthetime each hadto spendinthe Soviet financialdepartments, itcan be safelyassumedthatonthe average each manrequiredthree hoursfor the

transaction. If the deportees had a responsible commiee, the whole maer could


25/216

25

have been managed in less than a day. Such a commiee could aend to all theiraffairs, and save time, I urged.

Zorin agreed with me. It ought to be tried, he said.I proposed to go over to the Smolny, call the men together, explain my propo-

sition tothem, and have the commiee elected. It would be well to assign alileroom as the Commiees office, with atelephonetotransact business, Isuggested.

You are veryAmerican, Zorin smiled. You want it done on the spot. But thatisnt the way,he added dryly. Illsubmit yourplantothe properauthorities,and then well see.

At any rate, I said, I hope it can be done soon. And you may always call onme, for I am anxious, to help.

By the way, Zorin remarked, looking at me quizzically, trading is forbidden.Buying and sellingis speculation. Yourpeople should notdo suchthings.Hespoke severely.

You cannot call buying a pound of bread speculation, I replied. Besides, thedifference in thepyoencourages trade. eGovernment still issues money itis legally in circulation.

Y-e-s,Zorin said,displeased. Butbeer tell your friends not to speculate anymore. Onlyshkurniki,self-seeking skinners, do that.

You are unjust, Zorin. e Bufordmen have donated the greater part of theirmoney, the provisions and medicines they brought, to the children of Petrograd.ey have even deprived themselves of necessities, and the lile cash they havekept the Government itself has turned into Soviet money for them.

Beer warn the men, Zorin repeated.


26/216

26

Chapter 4. Moscow

February 10, 1920. e opportunity tovisit the capitalcame unexpectedly:Lansburyand Barry,of theLondonDaily Herald,werein Petrograd,and I wasasked to accompany them to Moscow as interpreter. ough not entirely recov-eredfrom my recent illness, I acceptedtherare chance, travelbetween Petrogradand Moscow being limited to absolute necessity.

erailroad conditions betweenthetwo capitals(both cities are so considered)are deplorable. e engines are old and weak, the road in need of repair. Severaltimes we ran short of fuel, and our engineer le the train to go off into the woodsfor a fresh supply of wood. Some of the passengers accompanied the crew to helpwith the loading.

e cars were crowded with soldiers and Sovietofficials. Duringthe nightmany travelers boarded our train. ere was much shouting and cursing, and the

plaintive cries of children. en sudden silence, and an imperious command, Getoff, you devils. You dont belong here.

e railroad Tcheka, theprovodnik(car porter) came into the coup to warnus. Get your papers ready, tovarishti.

A dark, stockyman entered. My eye caught the gleam ofa big Colt in hisbelt, without holster. Behind him stood two soldiers, with bayoneted rifles. Yourpapers! he demanded.

English travelers, I explained, showing our documents.Oh, pardon,tovarishti, his manner changed instantly, as he caught sight

of Lansbury,wrappedin his great furcoat, talland side-whiskered, thetypicalBritishbourzhooi.

Pardon, the Tchekist repeated, and without looking at our documents hestepped into the next coup.

We were in the special coach reserved for high Bolshevik officials and foreignguests. Itwas lit bycandles,had upholstered couches,and was comparativelyclean. e rest of the train consisted of third-class cars, containing double tiers ofwooden benches,and ofsometeplushki(freightcars)usedforpassenger traffic,without light or heat, incredibly crowded and filthy.

At every station we were besieged by crowds clamoring for admission. Nyetmesta, Nyet mesta!(No room!) the militiamen accompanyingthe train keptshouting, repeatedly drawing their guns. I called the aention of the officers tothe vacantplacesin ourcompartment,but theywaved me aside. Tis not for

them, they said.


27/216

27

Arriving at the Moscow depotwefound platform and waitingroom a densemass, almost everyone with a heavy load on his back, pushing and shouting, thosein front trying to get past the armed guards at the gates. e people looked wornand begrimed, most of them having spent several days at the station, sleeping at

night on the floor, and waiting their turn to be let through.With difficultywe made ourway tothe street. ere scores ofwomen and

childrenfellupon our things, eachtryingto dragthemto hislile sleigh andassuring us hell carry our effects anywhere for a small price. Abit of bread, lilefather, the children begged; just a lile, for Christs sake.

Itwas bierlycold,deep snow onthe ground. e children stood shivering,knocking onefootagainst the other forwarmth. eiremaciatedlilefaceswereblue and pinched, some of the boys barefoot on the frozen steps.

How starved they look, and how poorly clad, I remarked.No worse than you see at the London stations, Lansbury replied curtly. Youre

hypercritical, Berkman.

In an automobile of the Foreign Office we were driven to a large house, withhigh iron fence and guard at the gate, the former residence of Y, the Sugar Kingof Russia, now occupied by Karakhan.

A palatialhome,with costlycarpets, raretapestries,and paintings. eyoungman who met us and who introduced himself as Tchicherins secretary, assignedLansbury and Barry to the guest wing. I regret we have no spare room for you,he said to me; we didnt expect you. But I shall send you to theKharitonensky.

elaerprovedto be a Sovietguesthouse,on the streetof the same name.Formerlyowned by a German merchant, it is now nationalized and serves tohouse delegates and visitors from other parts of the country.

IntheKharitonenskyI was informedthat thecommandantof the house wasabsent,and thatnothing could be done withouthis orders. Iwaitedtwo hours,and when thecommandantfinally appeared he said that he had not been notifiedofmycoming,had received noinstructionsto prepare a roomforme,andthat,moreover, no rooms were vacant.

Here was a dilemma.A stranger in a city without hotels or boarding houses, andno lodgings to be had except by order of one or the other of the Soviet institutions.AsI had notbeeninvited orsent to Moscow byanyof its governmentbranches,I could not count upon them to secure a room for me. Moscow is fearfullyovercrowded, and the multiplyingGovernment departments constantly need newquarters. Visitors who cannot find a place oen passthe nightat therailroadstation, thecommandantsuggested. I was about to take the hint, when we wereapproached bya man wearing a whitefurcap with earpiecesreachingto his

knees. A Siberian, I thought, from his dress.


28/216


29/216


30/216


31/216


32/216

32

Chapter 6. Tierin and Karakhan

February 24. It was 3A.M. Inthe ForeignOffice correspondents were aboutand visitors come by appointment with Tchicherin. e Peoples Commissar forForeign Affairs has turned night into day.

I found Tchicherin at a desk in a large, cold office, an old shawl wrappedaround his neck. Almost his first question was how soon the revolution could beexpected in the States. When I replied that the American workers were still toomuch under the influence of the reactionary leaders, he called me pessimistic. In arevolutionary time like the present, he thought, even the Federation of Labor mustquickly change to a more radical aitude. He was very hopeful of revolutionarydevelopments in England and America in the near future.

We discussed the Industrial Workers of the World, Tchicherin saying that hebelieved I exaggerated their importance as the only revolutionary proletarian

movement in America. He consideredthe CommunistParty inthatcountryoffargreater influence and significance. He hadrecentlyseen severalAmericanCommunists, he explained, and they informed him on the labor and revolutionarysituation in the States.

A clerk entered with a typed sheet. Tchicherin scannedit carefully,and beganmaking corrections. His neck shawlkeptsliding down onthe paper,andimpa-tientlyhe wouldthrowit back overhis shoulder. Hereadthe documentagain,made more corrections, and looked displeased. Terribly confused, he mueredirritably.

Ill have it retyped at once, the clerk said, picking up the paper.Tchicherin impatiently snatched it out of his hand, and without another word

his lean, bent figure disappeared through the door. I heard his short, nervous stepin the corridor.

We are used to his ways, the clerk remarked apologetically.I met him on the stairs without hat or coat when I came up, I said.He is all the time between the second and the fourth floor, the clerk laughed.

He insists on taking every paper to the radio room himself.Tchicherin returned all out ofbreath, and took up the conversation again.

Messengers and telephone kept interrupting us, Tchicherin personally answeringeverycall. Helooked worried and preoccupied,with difficultypicking upthethread of our talk.

We mustbend every effort towardrecognition, be said presently, and es-

pecially to li the blockade. He hoped much in that direction from the friendly


33/216

33

aitude of the workers abroad, and he was pleased to hear of the growing senti-ment in the United States for the recall of American troops from Siberia.

No one wants peace so much as Russia,he said emphatically. If the Allieswould come to their senses, we would soon enter into commerce with them.

We knowthatbusinessin England and Americais eager forsuch an opportu-nity.

e trouble with the Allies, he continued, is that they dont want to realizethat we have the country back of us. ey still cling to the hope of some Whitegeneral rallyingthe peopleto his banner. Avain and stupid hope, forRussiaissolidly for the Soviet Government.

I related to Tchicherin the experience of the Buforddeportees on the Finnishborder,and repeatedto himtherequestofa certain American correspondent Ihad met there to be admied to Russia.

Heisfrom a bourgeois newspaper, Tchicherinremarked, recallingthat theman had been refused a Soviet visa. On what ground does he apply again?

He asked metotell youthathis newspaperwasthefirst in Americatotake afriendly aitude to the Bolsheviki.Tchicherin became interested, and promised to consider the application.Ialso need some paper from you, I remarkedjestingly, explainingthat I

was probably the onlyperson in Soviet Russia without documents, as IhadlePetrograd beforetheywereissuedtotheBuforddeportees. Helaughed atmy being unidentified, and recalled the mass meeting of Kronstadt sailors andworkers in the Tshinizelli Circus in Petrograd, in 1917, to protest against my beingidentified with the Mooney case and extradited to California.

He ordered the clerk to prepare a lile paper for me, and he signed it, remark-ingthat there was much workinthe Foreign Office,andthathe hopedIwouldhelp with translations.

When I looked at the document I saw that it referred in very favorable termsto the well-knownAmerican revolutionist, but that there was no mention of mybeing an Anarchist. Was that term avoided purposely, I wondered? What causewould there be for it in Soviet Russia? I felt as if a veil were stealthily drawn overmy personality.

* * *

Later in the day I visited Karakhan. Tall,good-looking, and well-groomed,he sat leisurely in a sumptuous office,hisfeet resting on a finetigerskin. Hisappearancejustifiedthe humorous characterizationI heard ofhiminthe ante-

room. A Bolshevik who can wear white gloves gracefully, someone had said.


34/216


35/216

35

We abolished capital punishment, but in certain cases exceptions have to bemade.

He leaned comfortably back in his armchair and continued:One mustntbe sentimental. I rememberhow harditwasforme,waybackin

1917,whenImyselfhad to arrestmy formercollege chums. Yes,with myownhands he held out both hands, white and well-cared for but what will you?e Revolutionimposes stern duties upon us. We mustntbe sentimental,herepeated.

e subject changed toIndia, Karakhan remarkingthat a delegate had justarrived from thatcountry. e movement there wasrevolutionary, though ofnationalistic character,hethought,and could be exploitedto keep Englandincheck. Learning that while in California I was in touch with Hindu revolutionistsand Anarchists of the Hindustan Gadar organization, he suggested the advisabilityof geing in communication with them. I promised to look aer the maer.


36/216

36

Chapter 7. e Market

I likethefeelof the hard snow singing undermy feet. e streets are alivewith people a striking contrast to Petrograd, which gave me the impression of agraveyard. e narrow sidewalks are crooked and slippery, and everybody walksin the middle of the street. Rarely does a street-car pass, though an auto creaks byoccasionally. e people are beer dressed than in Petrograd and do not look sopale and exhausted. More soldiers are about and persons clad in leather. Tchekamen, Iam told. Almosteverybodycarries a bundle on his back orpulls alilesleigh loaded with a bag of potatoes dripping a blackish fluid. ey walk with apreoccupied air and roughly push their way ahead.

Turningthe corner intothe Miasnitskaya Street, Inoticed alargeyellow posteron the wall. Myeye caught the wordPrikazin bigredleers. Prikaz order instinctively the expression associated itself in my mind with the old rgime.

e posterwas couchedinthefamiliarstyle, Icommand, Iorder, repeatingthemselves with the frequency usual in the old police proclamations. I commandthe citizens of Moscow, I read. Citizens? I sought the date. It was marked January15, 1920,and was signed by the CommissarofMilitia. ePrikazvividly recalledthe gendarmes andthe Cossack orderof things,andI resentedit. e Revolutionshould find another language, I thought.

I passed the Red Square where the heroes of the Revolution are buried along theKremlin wall. ousands of others, as devoted and heroic, lie in unknown gravesthroughout the countryand onthefronts. Anew worldis notborn withoutpain.Much hungerand miseryRussiais suffering still, the heritage of the pastwhichthe Revolution has come to abolish forever.

On the wall of the oldDuma, near the IverskayaGate, I read the legend cut intothe stone: Religionis opiumfor the people.But inthe chapelnearbyserviceswere being held and the place was crowded. e cassocked priest, long hair downhis back, was musically reciting the Greek-Catholic litany. e worshipers, mostlywomen, knelt on the cold floor, continuously crossing themselves. Several men,shabbily dressed and carrying portfolios, came in quietly, bowed low and crossedthemselves reverently.

A lile further I came upon a market place, the historic Okhotny Ryad, oppositethe Hotel National. Rows of lile stalls on one side, the more pretentious storeson the other, the sidewalk betweenthem ithas all remained as inthe timepast. Fish and buerwere offered,bread and eggs,meat,candy,and cosmetics

a living page from the life the Revolution has abolished. An old lady withfinelychiseledfeatures, in a thread-bare coat,stood quietlyholding a Japanese


37/216

37

vase. Near herwas another woman, younger and intellectual looking, with abasket containing crystal wine glasses of rare workmanship. On the corner lileboys and girls were selling cigarees andlepyoshki,a kind ofpotato pancake,and further I saw a crowd surrounding an old woman busily dishing outtshti

(cabbage soup).A fiver, a fiver! she cried in a hoarse, cracked voice. Delicious tshti, only

five kopeks!e steaming pot breathed an appetizing odor. Give me a plate, I said, handing

the woman a rouble.God be with you, lile uncle, she eyed me suspiciously, a fiver it costs, five

kopeks.Heres a whole rouble, I replied.e crowdlaughed good-humoredly. She meansfiveroubles,someone ex-

plained, a rouble is only a kopeck.It aint worth that, either, a lile urchin chimed in.

e hot liquid sent a pleasing warmth through my body, but the taste ofvoblia(fish) was insufferable. I made a motion to return the dish.Please permitme,a man atmyelbow addressed me. He was ofmiddle age,

evidently of the intelligentsia, and spoke in accents of the cultured Russian. Hisshiny dark eyes lit up features of a sickly pallor. Your permission, he repeated,indicating the dish.

I handed him the plate. Avidly, like a starved man, he swallowed the hot tshti,gleaning the last shred of cabbage. en he thanked me profusely.

I noticed a thick volume under his arm. Bought it here? I asked.Ah,no,how isit possible! Ihave beentryingto sell itsince morning. Im a

civil engineer, and this is one of my last, he paed the book affectionately. Butexcuse me, I must hurry to the store before it is too late. ey havent given anybread out for two days. Extremely obliged to you.

I felta tug atmyelbow. Buysome cigarees, lile uncle, a young girl,extremely emaciated, held her hand out to me. Her fingers, stiff with cold, wereinsecurely clutching the cigarees lying loose in her palm. She was without hator coat, an old shawl wrapped tightly about her slender form.

Buy,barin, she pleaded in a thin voice.Whatbarin, a girl nearby resented. No morebarin(master), were alltovar-

ishtinow. Dont you know, she gently chided.She was comely, not over seventeen, her red lips strongly contrasting with the

paleness of her face. Her voice was so and musical, her speech pleasing.For a moment her eyes were full upon me, then she motioned me aside.

Buy me a lile white bread, she said modestly, yet not in the least shamefaced;for my sick mother.


38/216

38

You dont work? I asked.Dontwork!she exclaimed,with a touch of resentment. Imtypinginthe

sovnarkhoz, but we get only one-half pound of bread now, and lile of anythingelse.

Oblava!(raid)militsioneri! ere were loud cries and shouts, and I heard theclanking of sabres. e market was surrounded by armed men.

e people were terror-stricken. Some sought to escape, but the military circlewas complete;no one was permiedtoleave withoutshowing his papers. esoldiers were gruff and imperious, swearing coarse oaths and treating the crowdwith roughness.

Amilitsionerhad kicked over thetshtipot, and was dragging the old womanby the arm. Let me get my pot, lile father, my pot, she pleaded.

Well show you pots, you cursed speculator, the man threatened, pulling heralong.

Dont maltreat the woman, I protested.

Who are you? How dare you interfere! a man in a leather cap shouted at me.Your papers!I produced my identification document. e Tchekist glanced at it, and his eye

quicklycaught the stamp of the ForeignOffice andTchicherins signature. Hismannerchanged. Pardon me,he said. Passtheforeigntovarisht,he orderedthe soldiers.

On the street themilitsioneri!were leading off their prisoners. Front and rearmarchedthe soldiers with bayonetedrifles held horizontally, ready foraction.On either flank were Tcheka men, their revolvers pointed at the backs of theprisoners. Icaughtsightof thetshtiwoman and thetallengineer, thethickvolume still under his arm; I saw the aristocratic oldlady in the rear, the two girlsI had spoken to, and several boys, some of them barefoot.

I turnedtowardthe market. Broken china andtornlacelieredthe ground;cigarees andlepyoshkilay in the snow, stamped down by dirty boots, and dogsrapaciously fought for the bits of food. Children and women cowered in thedoorways onthe opposite side, theireyesfollowingthe soldiers leon guardat the market. e booty takenfrom thetraders was being piled on a cartbyTchekists.

I looked at the stores. ey remained open; they had not been raided.

* * *

In the evening I dined at the Hotel National with several Communist friends

who had known me in America. I used the occasion to call theiraention tothe sceneI had witnessed onthe marketplace. Instead ofbeingindignant,as I


39/216

39

expected, they chided me for my sentimentality. No mercy should be shown thespeculators, theysaid. Trade mustbe rooted out: buying and selling cultivatespey middle-class psychology. It should be suppressed.

Do you call those barefoot boys and old women speculators? I protested.

e worst kind, replied R., formerly member of the Socialist Labor Party ofAmerica. ey live beer than we do,eatwhite bread,and have moneyhiddenaway.

And the stores? Why are they permied to continue? I asked.We closed most of them, put in K., Commissar of a Soviet House. Soon there

will not be any of them le open.Listen, Berkman, saidD., an influential leader of the labor unions, in a leather

coat, you dont know those poor old men and women, as you call them. By daytheyselllepyoshki,butatnight theydeal in diamonds,and valuta. Every timetheirhomes are searched wefindvaluables and money.Believe me, I know whatIm talking about. I have had charge of such searching parties myself.

Helooked severelyat me, then continued: I tell you, those, people are in-veterate speculators, and there is no way of stopping them. e best thing is toput themtothe wall, razstrelyat shoot them,he raised hisvoicein growingirritation.

Not seriously? I protested.No? Eh? he shouted in a rage. Were doing it every day.But capital punishment is abolished.Itsrarely resortedto now,R. triedto smooth maers, andthatonly inthe

military zone.e labor Tchekist eyed me with cold, inimical gaze, Defending speculation is

counter-revolutionary, he said, leaving the table.


40/216

40

Chapter 8. In the Moskkommune

e Commissarofourossobniak, havingtolay in provisions, invited metoaccompany him to theMoskkommune. It is the great food supply center, a tremen-dous organizationthat feeds Moscow andits environs. Itstrains havetherightof way on all lines and carry food from parts as distant as Siberia and Turkestan.Not a pound of flour can be issued by any of the stores the distributing pointsscaered throughout the city without a wrien order signed and counter-signed by the various bureaus of the Commune. From this center each distribu-tor receivesthe amountnecessary to supply the demands of the given district,according to the norm allowed on the bread and other cards.

eMoskkommuneisthe mostpopularand activeinstitution; it is a beehiveswarming with thousands of employees, busy determining the different categoriesofpyoand issuingauthorizations.Besidesthe breadrations,sugar, tea,etc.,

giventothe citizen by the storeofhis district, he alsoreceives hisrationintheinstitutionthatemploys him. epyodiffers accordingtothequalityofthe citizen andthe position he occupies. Atpresentsoldiers and sailorsreceive21/2lbs. ofbread perday;Sovietemployees 3lbs. every two days; those notworking because ofage,sickness ordisabilityother than military receive3/4 lb. ere are specialcategories of preferredpyo;the academical foroldscientists and professors whose merits are recognized by the State, and also foroldrevolutionists notactivelyopposedtothe Communists. ere arepreferredpyosin important institutions, such as the Komintern(the ird International),theNarkominodel(Foreign Office),Narkomput(CommissariatofRailways),Sov-narkhoz(Soviet ofPublic Economy),and others. Members of the Communist

Party have the opportunity of receiving extra rations through their Communistorganizations, and preference is given them in the departments issuing clothing.ereis also aSovnarkom pyo, the best to be had, for importantCommunistofficials, Commissars, their first assistants, and other high-placed functionaries.e SovietHouses,whereforeignvisitors andinfluentialdelegates are quartered,such as Karakhansossobniakand the Hotel Lux, receive,special food supplies.eseincludefats and starches(buer,cheese,meat,sugar,candy,etc.),ofwhichthe average citizen receives very lile.

I discussed the maer with our House Commissar, who is a devoted Party man.e essence of Communism is equality, I said; there should be only one kind ofpyo,so that all will share equally.

eEr-Kah-Peh(Communist Party) decided the maer long ago, and it is rightso, he replied.


41/216

41

But how can it be right? I protested. One person receives a generous pyo,more than enough to live on; another gets less than enough; a third almost nothing.You have endless categories.

Well,he said, the RedArmymen at thefrontmustgetmorethanthe city

man; they do, the hardest fighting. e soldier at home also must be encouraged,as well as the sailor; they are the backbone of the Revolution. en the responsibleofficers deserve alile beer food. Look howtheywork, sixteen hours a dayand more,giving all their time and energy tothe cause. e employees ofsuchimportant institutions as Narkomputand Narkominodelmust be shown somepreference. Besides, a great dealdepends on how wella certain institution isorganized. Many of the big ones procure most of their supplies directly from thepeasantry, through special representatives and the cooperatives.

Ifanyoneistoreceive preference, I thinkitshould bethe workers, I replied.But they get almost the worstpyo,

What can we do, tovarisht! If it were not for the cursedAllies and the

blockade,wed havefood enoughforall,he said sadly. But itwont last longnow.Did you read in the Izvestiathat a revolution is to break out soon in Germanyand Italy? e proletariat of Europe will then come to our aid.

I doubt it, but lets hope so. In the meantime we cant be siing and waitingfor revolutions to happen somewhere. We must exert our own efforts to put thecountry on its feet.

e Commissars turn in line came, and he was called into an inner office.We had been waiting severalhoursinthe corridors of thevarious bureaus. Itseemedthatalmosteverydoorhad to be entered before a sufficientnumberofresolutsyi(endorsements) were secured, and the final order for supplies obtained.ere was a continuous movement of applicants and clerks from office to office,everyone scolding and pushingtowardthe head of the line. e waiting menwatched closely that no one got ahead of his proper place. Frequently someonewould march straight to the office door and try to enter, ignoring the queue.

Intotheline, intotheline! the crywould beraised atonce. e slyone!Hereweve been standing for hours, and hes just come and wants to enter already.

Imvne oteredi(not to wait in line), the man would answer disdainfully.Show your authorization!One aeranother camethese men and women vneOteredi,with slips of

paper securing immediate admission, while the tail was steadily growing longer.Im standing three hours already, an old man complained; in my bureau peopleare waiting for me on important business.

Learn patience, lilefather,a workmanreplied good-humoredly. Look at

me, Ive been in line all day yesterday since early morning, and all the time thesevne oteredikeptcoming,and it was 2 P.M.whenI got throughthe door. But


42/216

42

the chief there,helooks at the clock and saysto me,says he, No moretoday;noordersissued aer2 P.M.Cometomorrow. Have mercy,dearone, Iplead. Ilive sevenversts awayandIgotup at fivethis morningto come here. Do methefavor,golubtshik,just a stroke of your pen and its done. Go, go now, the cruel

one says, I havent time. Come tomorrow, and he pushed me out of the room.True, true, a woman back of him corroborated, I was right behind you, and

he wouldnt let me in either, the hard-hearted one.e Commissar came out of the office. Ready? I asked.No, not yet, he smiled wearily. But youd beer go home, or youll lose your

dinner.In the Kharitonensky Sergei was waiting for me.Berkman, he said, as I entered, will you let me share your room with you?What do you mean?Ive been ordered to vacate. My times up, they say. But I have nowhere to go.

Ill look in the morning for another place, but meantime ?

Youll stay with me.But if the House Commissar should object.Are you to be driven into the street in this frost? Remain on my responsibility.


43/216

43

Chapter 9. e Club on the Tverskaya

In the Universalist Club on Tverskaya Street I was surprised to meet a numberof theBuforddeportees. ey had grown tired waiting to be assigned to work inPetrograd, theysaid,and had decidedto cometo Moscow. eyare quarteredintheird SovietHouse,wherethey receivelessthan a pound ofbread and aplate of soup as their daily ration. eirAmerican money is spent: the Petrogradauthorities had paid them 18 roubles for the dollar, but in Moscow they learnedthat therateis500. Robbed by the great revolutionaryGovernment,Alyosha,the shipzapevalo,commented bierly.

We are selling our lastAmerican things, Vladimir remarked. Its lucky somemarkets are open yet.

Trading is forbidden, I warned him.Forbidden! he laughed scornfully. Only to the peasant women and the kids

peddling cigarees. But look at the stores if theypayenough gra theycankeep open all they want. Youve never seen such corruption; America aint in it.Mostof theTchekists arefromthe old police and gendarmery,andtheygra tothelimit. e militiamen arethieves and highwaymenthatescaped being shotby joiningthe new policeforce. Ihad afew dollars whenI cameto Moscow;aTchekist changed them for me.

People ofevery revolutionary tendency gather in the Club: moderate LeSocial Revolutionists and the more extreme adherents of Spiridonova; Maximal-ists, Individualists, and Anarchists of various factions. ere are oldkatorzhaneamongthem who had passedyears, in prison andin Siberia under the oldregime.Liberated by the February Revolution, they have since participated in all the great

struggles. One of the mostprominent is Barmash,who had been sentencedtodeath by the Tsar, somehow escaped execution, and later played a prominent rleinthe events ofFebruaryand October, 1917. Askarev, formany years activeinthe Anarchist movementabroad, is now a memberof the Moscow Soviet. Bwas a labor deputy in Petrograd during Kerenskys time. Many others I have metat theUniversalistheadquarters,men and women grown grayand oldintherevolutionary struggle.

ere is great divergency of opinion in the Club about the character and rleof the Bolsheviki. Some defendthe Communist rgime as an inevitable stageof thetransitionalperiod.Proletarian dictatorshipis necessary to securethecomplete triumph of the Revolution. e Bolsheviki were compelled to resort to

therazvyorstkaand confiscation, because the peasants refused to support the RedArmy and the workers. e Tcheka is needed to suppress speculation and counter-


44/216

44

revolution. But for the constant danger ofconspiracies and armed rebellion,incited by the Allies, the Communists would abolish the severe restrictions andpermit greater liberty.

e more extreme elements condemn the Bolshevik State as the most unmiti-

gated tyranny, as a dictatorship over the proletariat. Terrorism and the centraliza-tion of power in the exclusive hands of the Communist Party, they charge, havealienated the masses, limited revolutionary growth, and paralyzed constructive ac-tivity. ey denounce the Tcheka as counterrevolutionary, and call the razvyorstkadownright robbery, responsible for the multiplying peasant insurrections.

Bolshevik policies and methods aretheinexhaustible subjects ofdiscussionat the Club. Lile groups stand about in animated conversation, and K, thewellknown formerSlsselburgets,1 is haranguing some workers and soldiers inthe corner. e safety of the Revolution is in the masses being vitally interestedin it, he is saying. ere was no counter-revolution when we had free Soviets;every man stood on guard of the Revolution then, and we needed no Tcheka. Its

terrorism has cowed the workers, and driven the peasantry to revolt.But if the peasants refuse to give us food, how are we going to live? a soldierdemands.

e peasants never refused aslong astheirSoviets could dealdirectlywiththe soldiers and workers, K replies. But the Bolsheviki have taken the poweraway fromthe Soviets,and ofcoursethe peasants dontwant their food to goto the Commissars or to the markets where no worker can afford to buy it. eCommissars are fat, but the workers starve, the peasants say.

e peasants are upinrebellionin ourparts,a tallman infurcap putsin.Im from the Ural. erazvyorstkahas taken everything from the farmers there.eyhaventeven enough seedle for the nextspring sowing. In onevillagethey refusedto give up and killed a Commissar,andthenthe punitive expeditioncame. ey flogged the peasants, and many were shot.

In the evening I aended the Anarchist Conference at the Club. Firstdokladiwereread, reports ofactivities ofan educationaland propagandistic character;then speeches were delivered by Anarchists of various schools, all critical of theexistingrgime. Some wereveryoutspoken, in spite of the presence ofseveralsuspicious ones, Tchekists, evidently. e Universalists, a new, distinctivelyRussian current, took a Centerposition,notsofully in accord withthe Bolshevikias the Anarchists of the moderate Golos TrudaGroup, but less antagonistic than theextreme wing. e most interesting talk was an impromptu speech by Rostchin, apopular university lecturer and oldAnarchist. With biting irony he castigated theLe and Center for their lukewarm, almost antagonistic, aitude to the Bolsheviki.

1 Political imprisoned in the Schlsselburg Fortress.


45/216


46/216

46

* * *

e ante-room of Krestinskys office was crowded with Communist delegatesand commiees from various parts of the country. Some of them had come from

points as distantasTurkestan and Siberia, toreport tothe centerorhave someweightyproblem decided by the Party. e delegates,withthick portfolios undertheir arms, looked conscious of the important missions entrusted to them. Almosteveryone sought a personal interview with Lenin, or expected to make a verbaldokladtothefullsession of the CentralCommiee. But I understandthat theyseldom get further than the secretarys office.

Almost two hours passed before we were admied to Krestinsky, who receivedusin a business-like,almostbrusque,manner. e secretaryof the all-powerfulCommunistParty is a man ofmiddle age,short,and ofdark complexion, in hiswhole appearancethetypicalRussianintellectualof the pre-Revolution days. Heis very near-sighted and nervous, and speaks in a hasty, abrupt way.

Having explainedthe purpose ofourcall,we discussedtheresolution of theConference,and Iexpressed mysurprise and sorrow at finding Anarchists andother Le elements imprisoned in the Soviet Republic. American radicals wouldnotbelieve such a state ofaffairsin Russia, I remarked;a friendlieraitude onthe part of the Communists, sympathy and understanding brought to bear on thesituation, and the well-disposed Le element could be of the greatest service toourcommon cause. Some wayshould befound, Iurged, to bridgetheruptureand to bring all revolutionary elements into closer contact and coperation.

You think it possible? Krestinsky asked dryly.Askarev reminded him of theOctober days, when theAnarchists so effectively

aided the Bolsheviki, and referred to the fact that most of them are still workingtogether with the Communists in various fields of activity, in spite of the suppres-sive policies of the Government. Revolutionary ethics demand the liberation ofthe imprisonedAnarchists, he emphasized. eyhad been arrested without cause,and no charges have been brought against them.

Its solelya question ofserving ourpurpose,Krestinsky remarked. Someof the prisoners maybe dangerous. PerhapstheTcheka has something againstthem.

eyhave beenin prisonformonths, yetnota single one of them has beentried or even received a hearing, Askarev retorted.

What guarantee have we that if released they will not continue their oppositionto us? Krestinsky demanded.

We claimtheright to carryon oureducationalwork unhindered,Askarev

replied.


47/216

47

Krestinsky promisedto submit the maer tothe CentralCommiee of theParty, and the audience was over.


48/216

48

Chapter 10. A Visit to Peter Kropotkin

Kropotkin lives inDmitrov, a small town sixty versts from Moscow.Owing tothe deplorable railroad conditions, traveling from Petrograd to Dmitrov was notto bethoughtof. But recently I learnedthat the Governmenthad made specialarrangements to enable Lansbury to visit Kropotkin, and with two other friends Itook advantage of the opportunity.

Since myarrival in RussiaI have been hearingthe mostconflictingrumorsaboutOld Peter.Some claimthathe isfavorabletothe Bolsheviki;others, thathe is opposed to them; it is reported that he is living in satisfactory materialcircumstances,and againthathe is practicallystarving. Ihave been anxioustolearn the truth of the maer and to meet my old teacher personally. In the yearspast Ihad had a sporadic correspondence with him, butwe nevermet. Ihaveadmired Kropotkin since myearly youth,whenI had firstheard his name and

become acquainted with his writings. One incident, in particular, had le a deepimpression on me.

Itwas about 1890,whenthe Anarchistmovementwas still initsinfancy inAmerica. We were just a handful then, young men and women fired by theenthusiasm of a sublime ideal, and passionately spreading the new faith amongthe population of the New YorkGheo. We held our gatherings in an obscure hallin Orchard Street,butwe regarded ourwork as highlysuccessful: everyweekgreaternumbers aended our meetings, much interest was manifested intherevolutionary teachings,and vitalquestions were discussedlateintothe night,with deep conviction and youthful vision. To most ofus it then seemed thatcapitalism had almost reached the limit of its fiendish possibilities, and that the

SocialRevolution was not faroff. But there were manydifficultquestions andknoy problems involved in the growing movement, which we ourselves couldnotsolve satisfactorily. Welongedto have ourgreat teacherKropotkin amongus, if only for a short visit, to have him clear up many complex points and to giveusthe benefitofhisintellectualaid andinspiration. Andthen,whata stimulushis presence would be for the movement!

We decided to reduce our living expensesto the minimum and devote ourearnings, to defray the expenseinvolvedin our invitationto KropotkintovisitAmerica. Enthusiastically the maer was discussed in the group meetings of ourmostactive and devoted comrades;allwere unanimousinthe greatplan. Alongleer was sent to our teacher, asking him to come for a lecture tour to America

and emphasizing our need of him.


49/216

49

His negative reply gave us a shock: we were so sure ofhis acceptance, soconvinced of the necessityofhis coming. But the admiration we felt forhimwas even increased when we learned the motives of his refusal. He would verymuch like to come Kropotkin wrote and he deeply appreciated the spirit of

our invitation. He hopedtovisit the United States sometimeinthefuture,anditwould give him great joy to be among such good comrades. But justnow hecould notaffordto come athis own expense,and he would notusethe moneyofthe movement even for such a purpose.

I pondered over his words. His viewpoint was just, I thought, but it could applyonly under ordinary circumstances. His case, however, I considered exceptional,and I deeply regreed his decision not to come. But his motives epitomized to methe man and the grandeur of his nature. I visioned him as my ideal of revolutionistand Anarchist.

* * *

Meeting celebrities is generally disappointing: rarely does reality tally withthe picture ofour imagination. But it was notsointhe case ofKropotkin;bothphysicallyand spirituallyhe corresponds almostexactly tothe mentalportraitIhad made ofhim. Helooksremarkably like his photographs,with his kindlyeyes, sweet smile, and generous beard. Every time Kropotkin entered the room itseemed to light up by his presence. e stamp of the idealist is so strikingly uponhim, the spirituality of his personality can almost be sensed. But I was shockedat the sight of his emaciation and feebleness.

Kropotkin receives the academicpyowhich is considerably beer than therationissuedtothe ordinarycitizen. But it isfar from sufficient to support life,andit has been a struggleto keepthe wolf fromthe door. e question of fuel

and lighting is also a maer of constant worry. e winters are severe, and woodveryscarce;keroseneis difficult to procure,andit is considered aluxury to burnmorethan onelamp atatime. islackis particularly feltbyKropotkin; itgreatlyhandicaps his literary labors.

Several timesthe Kropotkinfamilyhad been dispossessed of theirhomeinMoscow, their quarters being requisitioned for government purposes. en theydecidedto movetoDmitrov. It is onlyabouthalfa hundredverstsfromthe capital,but it might as well be a thousand miles away, so completely is Kropotkin isolated.His friends can rarely visit him; news from the Western world, scientific works,or foreign publications are unaainable. NaturallyKropotkinfeels deeply thelack of intellectual companionship and mental relaxation.

I was eager to learn his views on the situation in Russia, but I soon realized thatPeterdid not feel freeto express himself inthe presence of the Englishvisitors.


50/216

50

e conversation wastherefore ofa generalcharacter. Butone ofhisremarkswas very significant, and gave me the key to his aitude. ey have shown, hesaid, referring to the Bolsheviki, how the Revolution isnotto be made. I knew, ofcourse, that asan Anarchist Kropotkinwould not accep

the bolshevik myth (diary 1920–22)

Documents