Since my arrival in Russia I have been hearing the most conflicting rumors about Old Peter. Some claim that he is favorable to the Bolsheviki; others, that he is opposed to them; it is reported that he is living in satisfactory material circumstances, and again that he is practically starving. I have been anxious to learn the truth of the matter and to meet my old teacher per- sonally. In the years past I had had a sporadic corre- spondence with him, but we never met. I have admired Kropotkin since my early youth, when I had first heard his name and become acquainted with his writings. One incident, in particular, had left a deep impression on me.
It was about 1890, when the Anarchist movement was still in its infancy in America. We were just a handful then, young men and women fired by the en- thusiasm of a sublime ideal, and passionately spreading the new faith among the population of the New York Ghetto. We held our gatherings in an obscure hall in Orchard Street, but we regarded our work as highly successful: every week greater numbers attended our meetings, much interest was manifested in the revolu- tionary teachings, and vital questions were discussed late into the night, with deep conviction and youthful vision. To most of us it then seemed that capitalism 72 A VISIT TO PETER KROPOTKIN 73 had almost reached the limit of its fiendish possibilities, and that the Social Revolution was not far off. But there were many difficult questions and knotty problems involved in the growing movement, which we ourselves could not solve satisfactorily. We longed to have our great teacher Kropotkin among us, if only for a short visit, to have him clear up many complex points and to give us the benefit of his intellectual aid and inspiration. And then, what a stimulus his presence would be for the movement!
We decided to reduce our living expenses to the minimum and devote our earnings to defray the ex- pense involved in our invitation to Kropotkin to visit America. Enthusiastically the matter was discussed in the group meetings of our most active and devoted com- rades; all were unanimous in the great plan. A long letter was sent to our teacher, asking him to come for a lecture tour to America and emphasizing our need of him.
His negative reply gave us a shock: we were so sure of his acceptance, so convinced of the necessity of his coming. But the admiration we felt for him was even increased when we learned the motives of his refusal. He would very much like to come — Kropotkin wrote — and he deeply appreciated the spirit of our invita- tion. He hoped to visit the United States sometime in the future, and it would give him great joy to be among such good comrades. But just now he could not afford to come at his own expense, and he would not use the money of the movement even for such a purpose.
I pondered over his words. His viewpoint was just, I thought, but it could apply only under ordinary circumstances. His case, however, I considered excep- tional, and I deeply regretted his decision not to come. But his motives epitomized to me the man and the grandeur of his nature. I visioned him as my ideal of revolutionist and Anarchist.
74 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH Meeting "celebrities" is generally disappointing: rarely does reality tally with the picture of our imagi- nation. But it was not so in the case of Kropotkin; both physically and spiritually he corresponds almost exactly to the mental portrait I had made of him. He looks remarkably like his photographs, with his kindly eyes, sweet smile, and generous beard. Every time Kropotkin entered the room it seemed to light up by his presence. The stamp of the idealist is so strikingly upon him, the spirituality of his personality can almost be sensed. But I was shocked at the sight of his emaci- ation and feebleness.
Kropotkin receives the academic pyock which is con- siderably better than the ration issued to the ordinary citizen. But it is far from sufficient to support life, and it has been a struggle to keep the wolf from the door. The question of fuel and lighting is also a matter of constant worry. The winters are severe, and wood very scarce; kerosene is difficult to procure, and it is considered a luxury to burn more than one lamp at a time. This lack is particularly felt by Kropotkin; it greatly handicaps his literary labors.
Several times the Kropotkin family had been dis- possessed of their home in Moscow, their quarters being requisitioned for government purposes. Then they decided to move to Dmitrov. It is only about half a hundred versts from the 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 unattainable. Naturally Kropotkin feels deeply the lack of intellectual com- panionship and mental relaxation.
I was eager to learn his views on the situation in Russia, but I soon realized that Peter did not feel free to express himself in the presence of the English vis- itors. The conversation was therefore of a general character. But one of his remarks was very signifi- A VISIT TO PETER KROPOTKIN 75 cant, and gave me the key to his attitude. "They have shown," he said, referring to the Bolsheviki, "how the Revolution is not to be made." I knew, of course, that as an Anarchist Kropotkin would not accept any Government position, but I wanted to learn why he is not participating in the economic up-building of Russia. Though old and physically weak, his advice and sug- gestions would be most valuable to the Revolution, and his influence of great advantage and encouragement to the Anarchist movement. Above all, I was interested to hear his positive ideas on the conduct of the Revo- lution. What I have heard so far from the revolu- tionary opposition is mostly critical, lacking helpful constructiveness.
The evening passed in desultory talk about the activi- ties on the front, the crime of the Allied blockade in refusing even medicine to the sick, and the spread of disease resulting from lack of food and unhygienic con- ditions. Kropotkin looked tired, apparently exhausted by the mere presence of visitors. He is old and weak; I fear he may not live much longer under present conditions. He is evidently undernourished, though he said that the Anarchists of the Ukraina have been trying to make his life easier by supplying him with flour and other products. Makhno, also, when still friendly with the Bolsheviki, had sent him provisions.
We left early, spending the night in the train which did not start till morning for lack of an engine. Arriv- ing in Moscow about noon, we found the station swarm- ing with men and women loaded with bundles and wait- ing for an opportunity to get out of the hungry city. Scores of little children were about, clad in rags and begging bread.
"How pinched and frozen they look," I remarked to my companions.
"Not so bad as the children of Austria," Lansbury returned, drawing his big fur coat closer about him.
CHAPTER XI BOLSHEVIK ACTIVITIES March I, 1920. — The first All-Russian Conference of Cossacks is in session at the Labor Temple. Some interesting faces and picturesque uniforms are there; Caucasian dress is much in evidence; camel-hair capes reaching to the ground, cartridges across the chest, heavy sheepskin caps, red-topped. Several women are among the delegates.
A mixture of uncertain origin, half wild and war- like, these Cossacks of the Don, Ural, and Kuban were used by the Tsars as a military police force, and were kept loyal by special privileges. More' Asiatic than Russian, almost untouched by civilization, they had nothing in common with the people and their interests. Stanch supporters of the autocracy, they were the scourge of labor strikes and revolutionary demonstra- tions, with fiendish brutality suppressing every popular uprising. Unspeakably cruel they were in the days of the Revolution of 1905.
Now these traditional enemies of the workers and peasants side with the Bolsheviki. What great change has taken place in their psychology?
The delegates I conversed with seemed awed by their new role; the unfamiliar environment made them timid. The splendid Temple, formerly the sacred precinct of the nobility, the grand hall of marble columns, the crimson banners and flaming posters, the portraits of Lenin and Trotsky looming large on the platform, the huge candelabras brilliantly illuminated, all tremendously impressed the children of the wild steppes. The presence of the many notables 76 BOLSHEVIK ACTIVITIES 77 obviously cowed them. The bright lights, the color and movement of the large gathering were to them the symbols of the great power of the Bolsheviki, convinc- ing, imposing.
Kamenev was Chairman, and he apparently trans- acted all the business himself, the Cossacks taking al- most no part in the proceedings. They kept very quiet, not even conversing among themselves, as is custom- ary in Russia at such gatherings. Too well-behaved, I thought. Now and then a delegate would leave the hall to light a cigarette in the corridor. None dared to smoke in his seat, till some one on the platform lit a cigarette. It was the Chairman himself. A few of the bolder ones presently followed his example, and soon the whole assembly was smoking.
Kalinin, President of the R. S. F. S. R., greeted the Conference in the name of the Soviet Republic. He characterized the occasion as a great historic event, and prophesied that the Cossacks, having made common cause with the proletariat and the peasantry, would speed the triumph of the Revolution. Unimpressive in appearance and lacking personality, he failed to arouse a response. The applause was perfunctory.
Kamenev was more effective. He dwelt on the his- toric bravery of the Cossacks and their fighting spirit, reminded them of their glorious past services in de- fense of the country against foreign enemies, and ex- pressed the assurance that with such champions the Revolution was safe.
Lenin was expected to attend the opening, but he failed to come, and there was much disappointment at his absence. Communists from various parts of the country — from Turkestan, Azerbeidzhan, Georgia, the Far Eastern Republic — and several foreign delegates addressed the Cossacks, and sought to impress upon them the mighty spread of Bolshevism throughout the world and the great power of the Communist Party in 78 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH all the Soviet Republics. All spoke confidently of the approaching world revolution, and the International was struck up by the Red Band after every important speaker.
Finally a Cossack delegate was called to the plat- form. He delivered the greetings of his people and their solemn assurances to "do their duty by the Com- munist Party." It was a set speech, pale and spirit- less. Other delegates followed with eulogies of Lenin that sounded like the traditional addresses presented to the Tsar of All the Russias by his most loyal subjects. The Communist notables on the rostrum led the applause.
March 6. — At the first session of the newly elected Moscow Soviet, Kamenev was in the chair. He re- ported on the critical food and fuel situation, de- nounced the Mensheviki and Social Revolutionists as the counter-revolutionary aids of the Allies, and closed by voicing his conviction about the near outbreak of the social revolution abroad.
A Menshevik deputy ascended the rostrum and at- tempted to refute the charges brought against his party, but the other Soviet members interrupted and hissed so violently he could not proceed. Communist speakers followed, in essence repeating the words of Kamenev. The exhibition of intolerance, so unworthy of a revo- lutionary assembly, depressed me. I felt that it grossly offended against the spirit and purpose of the august body, the Moscow Soviet, whose work should express the best thought and ideas of its members and crystal- lize them in effective and wise action.
After the close of the Soviet session began the first anniversary meeting of the Third International, in the Bolshoi Theater. It was attended by practically the same audience, and Kamenev was again Chairman. It was a most significant event to me, this gathering of BOLSHEVIK ACTIVITIES 79 the proletariat of all countries, in the persons of its delegates, in the capital of the great Revolution. I saw in it the symbol of the coming daybreak. But the entire absence of enthusiasm saddened me. The audi- ence was official and stiff, as if on parade; the proceed- ings mechanical, lacking all spontaneity. Kamenev, Radek, and other Communists spoke. Radek thun- dered against the scoundrelism of the world bour- geoisie, vilified the social patriots of all countries, and enlarged upon the coming revolutions. His long and tedious speech tired me.
Many lectures take place in the city, all of them well attended. The classes of Lunatcharsky are espe- cially popular. I admired the simplicity of his manner and the clarity with which he treated such subjects as the origin and development of religion, of social insti- tutions, art, and music. His large audiences of soldiers and workers seem to feel at home with him, discussing at ease and asking questions. Lunatcharsky answers in a patient, kindly way, with appreciative understand- ing of the honest thirst for knowledge which prompts even the often ludicrous queries.
Later I visited Lunatcharsky at his offices in the Kremlin. He spoke enthusiastically of his success in eradicating illiteracy, and explained to me the system of education made accessible to the great proletarian masses. In the villages also much work is being done, he said; but the lack of able and dependable teachers greatly hampers his efforts. Formerly the majority of the intelligentsia were bitterly opposed to the new regime, and sabotaged the work. They hoped the Communists would not last long. Now they are gradu- ally returning to their professions, but even in the educational institutions political commissars had to be introduced, as in all other Soviet organizations. They 8o THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH have to guard against sabotage and counter-revolu- tionary tendencies.
The new schools and universities are training Com- munist teachers to take the place of the old pedagogues. Most of the latter are not in sympathy with the Bol- shevik regime and cling to the former methods of education. Lunatcharsky is waging a severe struggle against the clique that favors the reactionary system and the punishment of backward children.
He introduced me to* Mme. Lunatcharskaya, and I passed the greater part of a day with her, visiting the schools and colonies in her charge. On the bright side of middle age, she is energetic, loves her work, and holds modern ideas on education. "The children must be allowed opportunity for free development," she emphasized, "and of course we give them the best we have."
The several schools* we visited were* clean and warm, though I found very few children in them, mostly boys and girls under twelve' years of age. They danced and sang for us, and showed their pen and ink sketches, some of them very creditable. The children were warmly dressed and looked clean and well fed.
"Our main handicap is lack of the right teachers," Mme. Lunatcharskaya said. "There is also great scarcity of paper, pencils, and other school necessaries. The blockade prevents our getting books and materials from abroad."
In one school we found a dozen children at dinner, and we were invited to partake of the meal. It con- sisted of very palatable kasha and chicken.
"It is much worse in some other schools," Mme. Lunatcharskaya remarked, noticing my surprise at see- ing fowl served. "They lack fuel and food. Our school is better off in this regard. But much depends on the management. There is bad economy and even stealing in some institutions."
BOLSHEVIK ACTIVITIES 81 "I have seen children begging and peddling," I ob- served.
"A very unfortunate situation, and a difficult one. Many youngsters refuse to go to school or run away from it."
"I can't imagine any child running away from your school to go begging in this cold," I said.
"Of course not," she smiled, "but all schools are not like mine. Besides, the Russian children of today are different from others. They are not quite normal — the products of long years of war, revolution, and hunger. The fact is, we have many defectives and much juvenile prostitution. Our terrible heritage," she added sadly.
The boys and girls crowded about Mme. Lunatch- arskaya, and seemed happy to be petted by her. Bending over to kiss one of them, she noticed on the child's neck a tiny silver chain to which was attached a cross. "What is it you wear? Let me see it, dear," she said kindly. The girl grew shamefaced and hid the cross. Mme. Lunatcharskaya did not insist.
CHAPTER XII SIGHTS AND VIEWS I walked to the Hotel Savoy to meet a friend whom I expected from Petrograd. Nearing the Okhotny Ryad I was surprised to find the raided market in full operation again. All day long women and children are huckstering their wares there, and great crowds are about, trading and bargaining. One cannot tell buyer from seller. Everyone seems to have something for sale, and everyone is pricing things. An old Jew is offering to exchange second- hand trousers for bread; a soldier is trading a new pair of high boots for a watch. Colored kerchiefs and laces, an antique brass candlestick, kitchen uten- sils, chairs — every imaginable object is collected there, awaiting a buyer. In the store windows meat, butter, fish, and flour, even wheat, are exposed for sale. I know that soldiers and sailors sell their surplus, but the quantities to be seen on the Okhotny, the Sukha~ revka, and other markets are very large. Could the rumors be true that trainloads of provisions often disappear? I have heard it whispered about that some commissars in charge of food supplies are in league with the traders. But such commissars are always Bolsheviki, members of the Party. Is it pos- sible that the Communists themselves rob the people: secretly aid speculation while officiary punishing it?
Passing the corner where I fell into the raid last week, I was hailed by a young voice: "Zdrastvuite, tovarishtch! Don't you know me?"
It was the girl with the red lips that I had seen arrested.
"You're quick to recognize me," I remarked.
82 SIGHTS AND VIEWS 83 "No wonder — those big heavy glasses you wear — I'd know you anywhere. You must be American, aren't you?"
"I came from there."
"Oh, I thought so the first time I spoke to you." "Where is the other girl that was selling cigarettes?" I inquired.
"Oh, Masha? That's my cousin. She's sick at home. Came back sick from the camp." "What camp?"
"The camp for forced labor. The judge gave her two weeks for speculation." "And you?"
"I gave up all the money I had, and they let me go. They took my last rouble."
"Aren't you afraid you'll be arrested again?" I asked, glancing at the package of cigarettes in her hand.
"What can I do? We've sold everything else we had. I must help feed the children at home."
Her big black eyes looked honest. "I'm going to see a friend," I said, "but I'll return in two hours. Will you wait for me?"
"Of course, tovarishtch" In the Savoy the admission ceremony proved a com- plicated matter. I spent half an hour in line, and when I finally got to the little window behind which sat the barishnya, she began asking about my identity, occupation, place of residence, and the purpose of my visit. Her supply of questions apparently inexhaustible, I urged speed. "What difference does it make why I want to see the man?" I remarked; "he's my friend. Isn't that enough?"
"That's our orders," the girl said curtly.
"Stupid orders," I retorted.
She motioned to the armed guard nearby. "You'll 8 4 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH be sent to the Tcheka if you talk like that," she warned me.
"Ne razsuzhdaitl" (no argument) the militzioner ordered.
My friend K came down the stairs, carrying his suitcase. The Savoy was crowded, and he was asked to leave, he explained; but he had secured a room in a private house, and he proceeded there.
We entered a large, beautiful apartment contain- ing fine furniture, china, and paintings. One person occupied the five rooms, the smallest of which, of comfortable size, my friend had secured by recom- mendation. "A big speculator with powerful connec- tions," he remarked.
An appetizing odor of things frying and baking pervaded the house. From the adjoining room the sound of voices reached us, loud and hilarious. I heard the clatter of dishes and clinking of wine glasses.
"Na vashe zdorovie (your health), Piotr Ivano- vitch!"
"Na zdorovie/ Na zdorovie!" half a dozen voices shouted.
"Did you hear?" my friend whispered, as there came the popping of a cork. "Champagne 1" There was another pop, and then another. The talking grew louder, the laughter more boisterous, and then some one began reciting in a hoarse, hic- coughy voice.
"Demian Bedni," K exclaimed. "I know his voice well. 11 "Demian Bedni, the popular poet the Communist papers eulogize?"
"The same. Drunk most of the time." We went out into the street.
Fresh snow had fallen. On the slippery sidewalk people were jostling and pushing about, walking hunched up to keep out the bitter cold. At the SIGHTS AND VIEWS 85 Theatralnaia Square, near the railway ticket office, dark shadows stood in a long queue, some leaning against the wall, as if asleep. The office was closed, but they would remain on the street all night to guard their place in line, on the chance of securing a ticket.
On the corner stood a little boy. "Who'll buy, who'll buy?" he mumbled mechanically, offering ciga- rettes for sale. An old man of lean, ascetic face, was heavily pulling a small log tied to his arm with a string. The wood slid from side to side on the uneven ground, now striking against the sidewalk, now getting caught in a hole. Presently the cord broke. With numbed fingers the man tried to tie the pieces, but the string kept falling from his hands. People hur- ried by with rarely a glance at the old figure in the frayed summer coat bending over his treasure. "May I help you?" I asked. He gave me a suspicious, frightened look, putting his foot on the wood. "Have no fear," I reassured him, as I knotted the string and stepped back.
"How can I thank you, dear man, how can I thank you!" he murmured.
The girl was waiting for me, and I accompanied her Jiome, on the other side of the Moskva River. Up a dark, crooked stairway that creaked piteously under our feet, she led me to her room. She lit a sputtering candle, and I gradually began to discern things. The place was entirely bare, save for two small cots, the space between them and the opposite wall just big enough for a person to pass through. Seeing no chair about, I sat down on the bed. Something moved under the rags that covered it, and I quickly jumped up. "Don't mind," the girl said; "it's mother and baby brother." From the other bed rose a curly head. ".Lena, did you bring me something?" a boyish voice asked.
The girl took a chunk of black bread from her coat 86 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH pocket, broke off a small piece and gave it to the boy. Mother is paralyzed," she turned to me, "and Masha is now also sick." She pointed to the cot where the curly-headed boy lay. I saw that two were there.
"Does he go to school?" I asked, not knowing what else to say, "No, Yasha can't go. He has no shoes. They're all in tatters."
I told her of the fine schools I had visited in the morning, and of the chicken dinner served to the chil- dren. "Oh, yes," she said bitterly, "they are pokaza- telniya (show schools). What chance has Yasha to go there? There are several like that in the city, and they are warm, and the children well fed. But the others are different. Yasha has frozen his fingers in his school. It's better at home for him. It's not heated here, either; we've had no wood all winter. But he can stay in bed; it's warmer so."
I thought of the big apartment I had left an hour before; of the appetizing odors, the popping of cham- pagne corks, and Demian Bedni reciting in drunken voice.
"Why so silent?" Lena asked. "Tell me something about America. I have a brother there, and maybe you know some way I could get to him. We've been living like this two years now. I can't stand it any longer."
She sat by me, the picture of despair. "I can't go on like this," she repeated. "I can't steal. Must I sell my body to live?"
March 5. — My friend Sergei was ordered out of the Kharitonensky and spent two nights in the street. Today I found him in a small unheated room at the lodgings of the Central Cooperative Union. He lay in bed, feverish, covered with his Siberian fur.
1 SIGHTS AND VIEWS 87 "Malaria," he whispered hoarsely, "caught in the taiga (Siberian jungle) hiding from the Whites. I often get these relapses." He had seen no doctor, and received no medical attention.
I discovered the dvornik (house porter) and several girls amusing themselves in the basement kitchen. They were busy, they said. Nothing could be done, anyway. A special order must be procured to get a physician, and who's to attend to that? It's no simple matter.
Their indifference appalled me. The Russian, the common man of the people, had never been callous to misery and misfortune. His sympathies were always with the weak and the underdog. In the popular mouth the criminal was "the unfortunate," and the peasants were ever responsive to a cry for help. In Siberia they used to place food outside their huts, in order that escaped prisoners might appease their hunger.
Starvation and misery seem to have hardened the Russian and stifled his native generosity. The tears he has shed have dried up the wells of sympathy.
"The House Committee is the one to see to the mat- ter," the porter said; "it's their business, and they don't like us folks to interfere."
He refused to let me use the telephone. "You must ask permission of the house commissar," he said.
"Where can I find him?"
"He'll return in the evening."
But my American cigarettes persuaded him. I tele- phoned to Karakhan, who promised to send a physician.
March 6. — Mrs. Harrison, my neighbor in the Kharitonensky, accompanied me to Sergei's room, tak- ing some of her American delicacies along. She is the correspondent of the Associated Press, and seems very 88 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH clever. Her entry to Russia was adventurous, involv- ing arrest and difficulties with the Tcheka.
We found Sergei still very ill; no physician had called. Mrs. Harrison promised to send the woman doctor with whom she shares her room at the ossob- niak.
On our return we passed the Lubianka, the head- quarters of the Tcheka. Groups of people, mostly women and girls, stood near the big iron gates. Some prisoners were to be led out for distribution to various camps, and the people hoped to catch a glimpse of arrested friends and relatives. Suddenly there was a commotion, and frightened cries pierced the air. I saw leather-coated men rushing into the street toward the little groups. Revolvers in hand, they threatened the women, ordering them to "go about their business." With Mrs. Harrison I stepped into a hallway, but Tchekists followed us there with drawn guns.
Russia, the Revolution, seemed to disappear. I felt myself in America again, in the midst of workers at- tacked by the police. Mrs. Harrison spoke to me, and the sound of English strengthened the reality of the illusion.
Coarse Russian oaths assailed my ears. Am I in old Russia? I wondered. The Russia of the Cossack and the knout?
CHAPTER XIII LENIN March <?. — Yesterday Lenin sent his auto for me, and I drove to the Kremlin. Times have changed, indeed: the old stronghold of the Romanovs is now the home of "Ilyitch," * of Trotsky, Lunatcharsky, and other prominent Communists. The place is guarded as in the days of the Tsar; armed soldiers at the gates, at every building and entrance, scrutinize those entering and carefully examine their "docu- ments." Externally everything seems as before, yet I felt something different in the atmosphere, something symbolic of the great change that has taken place. I sensed a new spirit in the bearing and looks of the people, a new will and huge energy tumultuously seek- ing an outlet, yet ineffectively exhausting themselves in a chaotic struggle against multiplying barriers.
Like the living sentinels about me, thoughts crowded my mind as the machine sped toward the quarters of the great man of Russia. In bold relief stood out my experiences in the country of the Revolution: I saw much that was wrong and evil, the dangerous tendency to bureaucracy, the inequality and injustice. But Rus- sia — I am convinced — would outgrow these evils with the return of a more ordered life, if the Allies would cease their interference and lift the blockade. The important thing is, the Revolution has not been merely political, but deeply social and economical. Some pri- vate ownership still exists, it is true, but its extent is insignificant. As a system, Capitalism has been up- rooted — that is the great achievement of the Revolu- tion. But Russia must learn to work, to apply her ♦Popular patronymic of Lenin.
89 9 o THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH energies, to be effective. She should not wait for miraculous aid from beyond, for revolutions in the West: with her own strength she must organize her resources, increase production, and satisfy the funda- mental needs of her people. Above all, opportunity to exercise popular initiative and creativeness will be vitally stimulating.
Lenin greeted me warmly. He is below medium height and bald; his narrow blue eyes have a steady look, a sly twinkle in their corners. Typically the Great Russian in appearance, he speaks with a peculiar, almost Jewish, accent.
We talked in Russian, Lenin asserting that he could read but not speak English, though I had heard that he conversed with American delegates without an in- terpreter. I liked his face — it is open and honest, and there is not the least pose about him. His manner is free and confident; he gave me the impression of a man so convinced of the justice of his cause that doubt can find no place in his reactions. If there is any trace of Hamlet in him, it is reduced to passivity by logic and cold reasoning.
Lenin's strength is intellectual, that of the profound conviction of an unimaginative nature. Trotsky is dif- ferent. I remember our first meeting in America: it was in New York, in the days of the Kerensky regime. He impressed me as a character strong by nature rather than by conviction, one who could remain un- bending even if he felt himself in the wrong.
The dictatorship of the proletariat is vital, Lenin emphasized. It is the sine qua non of the revolutionary period, and must be furthered by all and every means. To my contention that popular initiative and active in- terest are essential to the success of the Revolution, he replied that only the Communist Party could lead Rus- sia out of the chaos of conflicting tendencies and in- terests. Liberty, he said, is a luxury not to be permitted LENIN 9i at the present stage of development. When the Revo- lution is out of danger, external and domestic, then free speech might be indulged in. The current con- ception of liberty is a bourgeois prejudice, to say the least. Petty middle-class ideology confuses revolution with liberty; in reality, the Revolution is a matter of securing the supremacy of the proletariat. Its enemies must be crushed, and all power centralized in the Com- munist State. In this process the Government is often compelled to resort to unpleasant means; but that is the imperative of the situation, from which there can be no shrinking. In the course of time these methods will be abolished, when they have become unnecessary.
"The peasant doesn't like us," Lenin chuckled, as if at some pleasantry. "They are backward and strongly imbued with the sense of private ownership. That spirit must be discouraged and eradicated. Besides, the great majority are illiterate, though we have been making educational progress in the village. They don't understand us. When we shall be able to satisfy their demands for farm implements, salt, nails, and other necessaries, then they will be on our side. More work and greater production — that's our pressing need."
Referring to the Resolution of the Moscow An- archists, Lenin said that the Executive Committee had discussed the matter, and would soon take action upon it. "We do not persecute Anarchists of ideas," he emphasized, "but we will not tolerate armed resistance or agitation of that character."
I suggested the organization of a bureau for the reception, classification, and distribution of political exiles expected from America, and Lenin approved my plan and welcomed my services in the work. Emma Goldman had proposed the founding of a League of Russian Friends of American Freedom to aid the revo- lutionary movement in America, and thus repay the debt Russia owed to the American Friends of Russian 92 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH Freedom, which in years past had given great moral and material support to the Russian revolutionary cause. Lenin said that such a society in Russia should work under the auspices of the Third International.