It was the most imposing demonstration of revolu- tionary consciousness I had ever seen, and I felt in- spired by it. But the appearance of the marchers was depressing; they were undernourished, exhausted, poorly clad, and I noticed many children walking bare- foot. It was probably due to their physical weakness, I thought, that the paraders showed so little enthusiasm — they barely responded to the greetings of the Com- munists on the reviewing stand, and the frequent "Hurrah, Hurrah, Tovarishtchi!" shouted by Lashe- vitch and Antselovitch, Zinoviev's lieutenants, found but a weak, spiritless echo in the ranks of the passing demonstrators.
The festivities closed in the evening with an open air mass spectacle, illustrating the triumph of the Revolution. It was a powerful portrayal of the age- long slavery of the people, of their suffering and misery, and the underground revolutionary activities THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH of the pioneers of liberty. The best artists of the city participated in the portrayal of the great Russian drama and gave an intense and moving presentation. I was spellbound by the horrors of the Tsars' tyranny; the clanking of the slaves' chains echoed in my con- sciousness, and I heard the muttering of approaching storm from the depths. Then sudden thunder of can- non, groans of the wounded and dying in the world slaughter, followed by the lightning of rebellion and the Triumph of the Revolution.
I lived through the whole gamut of the great strug- gle within the two hours of the performance, and I was profoundly stirred. But the huge audience re- mained silent — not a sign of approval was manifested. Was it the apathy of the northern temperament, I wondered, when I heard a young workman nearby say- ing: "What's the use of it all I I'd like to know what we have gained."
CHAPTER XVIII THE BRITISH LABOR MISSION May, IQ20. — New life has come to Petrograd with the arrival of the British Mission; many meetings, ban- quets, and festivities are taking place in its honor. I believe the Communists are inclined to exaggerate the importance of the visit and its probable results. Some even think the coming of the Englishmen augurs the political recognition of Russia in the near future. Soviet newspapers and Communist speeches have created the impression that the Mission represents the sentiment of the whole British proletariat, and that the latter is about to come to the aid of Russia.
I heard the subject discussed by a group of workers and soldiers at the meeting in the Labor Temple. I had been asked to render into English the resolutions to be presented, and a small table was assigned to me. People crowded about me to get a better look at the delegates on the platform. The full glare of the elec- tric lights shone upon Ben Turner, the Chairman of the Mission, short, stocky, and well-fed.
"There, look at him!" a worker behind me ex- claimed, "you can tell he's from abroad. Our people are not so fat."
"What wonder!" a soldier replied, "it isn't Russia, England isn't, and people don't go hungry there."
"The workers starve everywhere," a hoarse voice said.
"These are not workers," the first man corrected. "They are delegates."
"Of course, delegates, but proletarian delegates," 133 134 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH the hoarse voice insisted. "The English working class sent them to see what help we need."
"You think they will help?" the soldier asked hope- fully.
"That's what they are here for. They'll go back home and tell the proletariat there how we suffer, and they'll have the blockade taken off."
"God be willing, God be willing," the worker sighed fervently.
A man passed by, energetically pushing his way through the crowd, and ascended the platform. His prosperous appearance, well-fitting clothes, and ruddy face were in striking contrast with the people about.
"Look at that fat delegate! They ain't starving in England," the soldier whispered to his neighbor.
Something familiar about the stout "delegate" fastened my attention. His eye fell upon me and he smiled recognition. It was Melnitchansky, the Chair- man of the Moscow Soviet of Labor Unions.
Considerable disappointment is felt in Communist circles regarding the Mission. The military displays have failed to impress them, the visits to mills and factories have produced no enthusiasm among the "cold-blooded Britishers." They seem purposely to avoid a definite expression of opinion regarding aid that might be expected from their country or the nature of their report to the workers of England. Certain remarks by individual delegates have caused uneasi- ness. Some Communists think it poor taste to honor a labor mission with military demonstrations, some of - whose members are outspoken pacifists. A revo- lutionary country like Russia, they say, should lay more stress on the proletarian consciousness of the people as the true symbol of its character and the best guarantee of its peaceful intentions. The visits to the industrial establishments, it is claimed, could impress THE BRITISH LABOR MISSION 135 only with their lack of productive results and the fact that the factories and mills had been "primed" for the delegates. It is even whispered about that the Brit- ishers sense in the official atmosphere with which they are surrounded a sort of surveillance very irksome to them.
The men sent from Moscow to welcome the Mission — Radek, Melnitchansky, and Petrovsky — believe that every effort must be made to create a good impression on the delegates, in the hope of securing their favorable report in England and correspondent action there in behalf of Russia. Radek and Petrovsky are strong defenders of "diplomacy"; Petrovsky, especially, who apparently enjoys considerable influence in the councils of the Party, though his allegiance to Bolshevism is of very recent origin. I knew him in America as Dr. Gold- farb, labor editor of the New York Jewish Forward, and a very fanatical Social Democrat — a Menshevik, in the Russian terminology. His conversion to Bol- shevism was rather sudden, and I am surprised to learn that he holds the important position of Commissar of military education.
Angelica Balabanova, an old revolutionist and very lovable personality, who is on the Reception Commit- tee, agrees with me that the best policy is to enable the Mission to learn the whole truth concerning Russia, and to enlist their friendship and cooperation in the work of upbuilding the country by their adequate understanding of its needs, rather than by the lack of it. But the other members of the Committee of Wel- come hold a different view. Overzealous and anxious, they exaggerate the truth and minimize or entirely deny the weak points. At demonstrations and meetings this policy has been followed, but it is evident that some of the delegates saw through the mask of pre- tense. At the final banquet given in honor of the Britishers before their departure for Moscow, almost i 3 6 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH every speaker emphasized the fact that only the truth had been told the Mission, unconscious of the smile of incredulity in the polite attention of the delegates. Antselovitch, Chairman of the Petrograd Soviet of Labor Unions, rose even to the height of asserting that full individual liberty is established in Russia — at least for the workers, he added, as if suddenly become aware of the recklessness of his statement.
Perhaps I did Antselovitch an injustice by omitting that falsehood in my translation of his speech. But I tould not stand up before the delegates and repeat what I knew, as well as they, to be a deliberate lie, as stupid as it was unnecessary. The delegates are aware that dictatorship is the reverse of liberty. They know there is no freedom of speech or press for anyone in Soviet Russia, not even for Communists, and that sanctity of home or person is unknown. The exigencies of the revolutionary struggle make such a condition of affairs imperative, Lenin frankly admits. It is an insult to the intelligence of the Mission to pretend otherwise.
At our visits to the mills and factories Antselovitch and his aides danced attendance upon the delegates in a manner clearly displeasing to them. One of the Britishers hinted to his colleagues that the places had received previous notice and were "prepared" for the distinguished guests. The information about condi- tions and output given by managers, foremen, and Communist employees varied so obviously as to elicit surprised remarks. Some members of the Mission were aware of the attendance of Tchekists and con- scious of the timidity of the workers in their presence.
A train de luxe, with Pullman sleepers and diner, was waiting at the Nikolayevsky Station to take the British Mission to Moscow. At every car the dele- gates were saluted by the guard of honor, young Mus- THE BRITISH LABOR MISSION 137 sulmen kursanti * in their picturesque Tcherkess uni- forms. The place presented an unusually serene appearance. The customary crowds with their heavy loads, shouting and pushing, were absent. Not a bedraggled workman or filthy beggar was in sight. Starion and platform were the picture of cleanliness and well-regulated order.
At the stroke of 11 P. M. on Sunday, May 16, the Mission started for Moscow. The delegates were accompanied by a large coterie of prominent Com- munists, including Radek, Kollontay, Losovsky, his daughter, who acts as his secretary, Balabanova, Zorin, and some lesser lights. By request I went with the Mission as unofficial interpreter, sharing my coupe with Ichov, head of the Government publications in Petrograd.
On the way Russia and Russian conditions were dis- cussed, the Communists striving to "draw out" the delegates, while most of the latter were careful to express no definite opinion. In general terms Ben Turner, the Chairman of the Mission, spoke of the need of a more humane attitude to Russia, while Messrs. Skinner and Purcell nodded their approval — more of the generality of the Chairman's remarks, it seemed to me, than of their meaning. Williams was outspoken in his admiration of the good order which prevails in Petrograd, while Wallhead, of the Inde- pendent Labor Party, agreed with Allen — the only Communist among the Englishmen — in roundly de- nouncing the Allied crime of the blockade which is starving millions of innocent women and little children. Mrs. Snowden preserved the well-bred dignity of high society, participating in the conversation to the extent of a patronizing smile that said very plainly, "I am with you, but not of you." Once she voiced her pleasant •Communist students of military academies training officers for the Red Army.
138 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH surprise at not finding the streets of Petrograd infested with highwaymen who robbed the people unhindered by daylight, as "some folks in England believed."
Of all the delegates, the most sympathetic to me were Allen, with his thoughtful, ascetic face, and Bertrand Russell, who accompanied the Mission in a private capacity, I believe. Unlike each other in tem- perament and viewpoint, both impressed me as men of deep insight and social sincerity.
In Moscow a great ovation had been prepared for the Mission. The railway platform was lined with Red Army men in dress parade uniforms and shining accoutrements, military bands played the International, and Communist orators gave a "triumphant welcome" to the British guests. Kamenev greeted them on behalf of the Central Government, and Tomsky, President of the All-Russian Soviet of Labor Unions, in a long speech addressed the representatives of the British workers in the name of their Russian brothers. All the speakers characterized the happy occasion as the symbol of the common cause of the toilers of the two countries and voiced the conviction that the English proletariat is about to come to the aid of the Revolution.
For almost two hours the delegates were kept stand- ing on the platform listening to speeches in a language unintelligible to them. But at last the ceremony was over, and the visitors were seated in automobiles and driven to the Soviet Hotel, assigned as their quarters. In the great crowding the Englishmen became sep- arated, some of them almost submerged by the surging waves of humanity. Gradually the soldiers filed out, the crowd thinned, and at last I was able to make my way to the street. The Government machines had already left, and I looked about for an isvoshtchik (cab), when I noticed Bertrand Russell struggling out of the station. He stood bewildered on the steps, not knowing where to turn, forgotten amidst the ex- THE BRITISH LABOR MISSION 139 cited people shouting a strange jargon. An auto drove up at that moment, and I recognized Karakhan.
"I am a little late," he said; "are all the delegates gone?"
"Bertrand Russell is here yet," I replied. "Russell? Who is he?" I explained.
"Never heard of him," Karakhan said naively. "But let him come in; there's room for both of you."
Delovoi Dvor, the Soviet Hotel assigned to the British guests, has been entirely renovated, and looks clean and fresh. The large dining room is tastefully decorated with crimson banners and mottoes of wel- come. Socialist legends of the solidarity of the work- ers of the world and the triumph of the Revolution through the dictatorship of the proletariat speak from the walls in various tongues. Potted plants lend the spacious room warmth and color.
Covers were set for a large number, including the delegates, the official representatives of the Soviet Gov- ernment, some members of the Third International, and the invited spokesmen of labor. Russian caviar, soup, white bread, two kinds of meat and a variety of vegetables were on the menu. When fried chicken was served, I saw some of the Britishers exchange wondering glances.
"A jolly good meal for starving Russia," a delegate at my side remarked to his neighbor in the lull of clat- tering dishes and laughter.
"Rather. Natty wench," the other replied with a suggestive wink at the winsome young waitress serving him. "Thought the Bolsheviks had done away with servants."
Angelica Balabanova, sitting opposite me, looked perturbed.
THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH On May 18th, the day following its arrival in Mos- cow, the Mission was honored with a great demonstra- tion. It was a splendid military display, all branches of the Red Army participating. No workers marched in the parade.
The continuous round of festivities, special theatri- cal performances, and visits to factories, are apparently palling upon the delegates. A feeling of dissatisfaction is noticeable among them, a sense of resentment at the apparent surveillance to which they feel themselves subjected. Several have complained of inability to see their callers, the propusk system introduced in the Delovoy Dvor since the arrival of the Mission prac- tically excluding visitors considered persona non grata by the Tcheka agent at the clerk's desk. The dele- gates are becoming aware of the subtle curtailment of their liberty, conscious of their every step and word being spied upon. They resent the "prison at- mosphere,' 1 as a member of the Mission characterized the environment. "We are friendly disposed," he said to me, "and there is no sense in such tactics." He was not content with seeing only things officially shown to the Mission, he said. He was anxious to look deeper, and he complained of being compelled to re- sort to stratagems in order to come in contact with persons whose views he wanted to learn.
"The Russian Revolution is the greatest event in all history," one of the delegates remarked to me, "petty consideration should have no place in it. A new world is in the making; to minimize the terrific travail of such a birth is worse than folly. The Bolsheviki, in the vanguard of the revolutionary masses, are playing a part in the process whose sig- nificance history will not fail to estimate. That they have made mistakes is inevitable, is human; but in spite of errors, they are founding a new civilization. History does not forgive failure: it will immortalize THE BRITISH LABOR MISSION 141 the Bolsheviki because of their success in the face of almost insuperable difficulties. They may justly be proud of their achievements."
He paused, then continued thoughtfully: "Let the delegates and the world look the situation full in the face. We must learn what revolution actually is. The Russian Revolution is not a matter of mere politi- cal recognition; it is a world-changing event. Of course we'll find wrongs and abuses in it. A period of such storm and strife is unthinkable without them. Evils discovered need only be cured, and well-intentioned criticism is of utmost value. Nor is it a secret that Russia is suffering from starvation, and it is criminal to pretend well-being by grand banquets and dinners. On the contrary, let the delegates behold the terrible effects of the blockade, let them see the frightful dis- ease and mortality resulting from it. No outsider can have even an approximate conception of the full extent of the Allied crime against Russia. The closer the delegates come in contact with the actuality, the more convincing will be their appeal to the British pro- letariat, and the more effectively will they be able to fight the blockade and Entente intervention."
CHAPTER XIX THE SPIRIT OF FANATICISM The Universalist Club on the Tverskaya was in great commotion. Anarchists, Left Social Revolu- tionists, and Maximalists, with a considerable sprink- ling of factory workers and soldiers, filled the lecture room and were excitedly discussing something. As I entered, a tall, well-built young man in a naval blouse separated himself from the crowd and approached me. It was my friend G., the Anarchist sailor.
"What do you say now, Berkman?" he demanded, his < strong face expressive of deep indignation. "Do you still think the Bolsheviki revolutionary?"
I learned that forty-five Anarchists in the Butirki prison (Moscow) had been subjected to such unbear- able conditions of existence that they at last resorted to the desperate protest of a hunger strike. All of them have been in prison for many months, ever since the Leontievsky affair,* without charges being pre- ferred against them. They are kept under a most rigid regime, deprived of exercise and visitors, and the food served them is so insufficient and unwholesome that almost all of the prisoners are ill with scurvy. The hunger strikers demand to be tried or released, and their action is considered so justifiable by the other prisoners that the entire Butirki population of over 1,500 have joined the strikers. They have sent a collective protest to the Central Executive • On September 25, 1919, an "underground" group of Left Social Revolutionists and Anarchists exploded a bomb in the Leontievsky Pereulok house in which the Moscow Committee of the Communist Party was in session.
14* THE SPIRIT OF FANATICISM 143 of the Communist Party, copies of which have also been forwarded to Lenin, the Moscow Soviet, the Labor Unions, and other official bodies. In view of the urgency of the situation the Universalists have elected a Committee to call on the Secretary of the Communist Party, and it has been suggested that I also join the Committee.
"Will you help?" my sailor friend asked, "or have you entirely deserted us?"
"Perhaps you'll soon be in the Party," another re- marked bitterly, "you're a Bolshevik now, a Sovietsky Anarchist."
In the hope that a reapproachment may still be established between the Communists and the Left ele- ments, I consented.
Returning home that evening, I reflected on the failure of my previous efforts to bring about a better understanding between the warring revolutionary factions. I recalled my visits to Lenin and Krestinsky, my talks with Zinoviev, Tchicherin, and other leading Bolsheviki. Lenin had promised to have the Central Committee consider the matter, but his reply — in the form of a resolution of the Party — merely repeated that "ideini Anarchists (Anarchists of ideas) are not persecuted," but emphasized that "agitation against the Soviet Government cannot be tolerated." The question of legalizing Anarchist educational work, which I discussed with Krestinsky several weeks ago, has not been acted upon and has evidently been ignored. Persecution of the Left elements continues, and the prisons are filled with revolutionists. Many of them have been outlawed and compelled to "go under- ground." Maria Spiridonova * has for a long time • The famous revolutionist who killed General Lukhomsky, the peasant flogger, and who was tortured by the Tsar's officers and then sent to Siberia for life. Released by the Revolution of 1917, she became the leader of the Left Social Revolutionary wing, gaining a large following, especially among the peasantry.
i 4 4 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH been imprisoned in the Kremlin, and her friends are being hunted as in the days of the Tsar.
A sense of discouragement comes over me as I wit- ness the bitter animosity of the Communists toward the other revolutionary elements. They are even more ruthless in suppressing the Left opposition than that of the Right. Lenin, Tchicherin, and Zinoviev assured me that Spiridonova and her circle are danger- ous enemies of the Revolution. The Government pre- tended to consider Maria insane and had placed her in a sanitarium, from which she recently escaped. But I had an opportunity to visit the young woman, who is again hiding as in the Romanov times. I found her perfectly well-balanced, a most sincere idealist pas- sionately devoted to the peasantry and the best inter- ests of the Revolution. The other members of her circle — Kamkov, Trutovsky, Izmailovitch — are per- sons of high intelligence and integrity. The Bolshe- viki, they believe, have betrayed the Revolution; but they do not advocate armed resistance to the Soviet Government, demanding only freedom of expression. They consider the Brest peace as the most fatal Communist step, the beginning of their reaction- ary policies and of the persecution of the Left elements. In protest against it and against the presence of the representative of German imperialism in Soviet Russia, they caused the death of Count Mirbach in 191 8.
The Communists have grown Jesuitical in their at- titude to other viewpoints. Yet most of them I find sincere and hard-working men, devoted to their cause and serving it to the point of self-abnegation. Very illuminating was my experience with Bakaiev, the head of the Petrograd Tcheka, with whom I interceded in behalf of three Anarchists arrested recently. A simple and unassuming man, I found him in a small unpre- tentious room in the Astoria, at dinner with his brother. They sat before a meager meal of thin soup THE SPIRIT OF FANATICISM 145 and rice dessert; there was no meat and only a few slices of black bread. I could not help noticing that both men remained hungry.
Introduced by a personal note from Zinoviev, I ap- pealed to Bakaiev for the prisoners, informing him that I knew them personally and considered their arrest unjustifiable.
"They are true revolutionists," I urged. "Why do you keep them in prison?"
"In the room of Tch," Bakaiev replied, "we found certain apparatus."
"Tch is a chemist," I explained.
"We know it," he retorted; "but anti-Soviet hand- bills had been found in the factories, and my men thought they might have some connection with Tch 's laboratory. But he stubbornly refused to answer questions."
"Well, that's an old practice of arrested revolution- ists," I reminded him.
Bakaiev grew indignant. "That is why I'm holding him," he declared. "Such tactics were justified against the bourgeois regime, but it is an insult to treat us so. Tch acts as if we were gendarmes."
"Do you think it matters by whom one is kept in jail?
"Well, don't let us discuss it, Berkman," he said. "You don't know for whom you are interceding." "And the other two men?"
"They were found with Tch," he replied. "We are not persecuting Anarchists, believe me; but these men are not safe at liberty."
I appealed to Ravitch, the Commissar of Internal Affairs for the Petrograd District, a young woman with the impress of tragic revolutionary experience on her comely face. She regretted that she could do nothing, the Tcheka having exclusive authority in such matters, and referred me to Zinoviev. The latter had 146 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH not been informed of the arrests, but he assured me I need not be anxious about my friends.
"You know, Berkman, we do not arrest idetni Anarchists," he said; "but those people are not your kind. Anyhow, rest easy; Bakaiev knows what he is about."
He slapped me cheerfully on the shoulder and in- vited me to join him in the Imperial loge at the ballet that evening.
Later I learned that Bakaiev was suspended and exiled to the Caucasus for his too zealous use of summary execution.
May 2$. — This morning, on the fifth day of the Burtiki hunger strike, I called at the offices of the Cen- tral Committee of the Party, on Mokhovaia Street. As on my previous visit the anterooms were crowded with callers; numerous clerks, mostly young girls in abbreviated skirts and high-heeled lacquered shoes, flitted about with arms full of documents; others sat at desks writing and sorting large piles of reports and dokladi. I felt in the whirl of a huge machine, its wheels unceasingly revolving above the beehive on the street and grinding out slips of paper, endless paper for the guidance of the millions of Russia.
Preobrazhensky, formerly Commissar of Finance and now in Krestinsky's place, received me somewhat coldly. He had read the protest of the hunger strikers, he said, but what of it? "What is it you come for?" he demanded.
I stated my mission. The politicals have been kept in prison for nine months, some of them even for two years, without trial or charges, and now they demand some action in their cases.
"They are within their rights," Preobrazhensky re- plied, "but if your friends think they can influence us by a hunger strike, they are mistaken. They may THE SPIRIT OF FANATICISM 147 starve as long as they want." He paused and a hard expression came into his eyes. "If they die," he added thoughtfully, "perhaps it would be best."
"I have come to you as a comrade," I said indig- nantly, "but if you take such an attitude " "I have no time to discuss it," he interrupted. "The matter will be considered this evening by the Central Committee."
Later in the day I learned that ten of the im- prisoned Anarchists, including Gordin — the founder of the Universalist group — were released by order of the Tcheka, in the hope of breaking the hunger strike. This development was independent of any action of the Central Committee. It also became known that some of the Butirki politicals were condemned to five years' prison, without having received hearing or trial, while others were sentenced to concentration camps "till the end of civil war."
I was in a room in the Hotel National translating for the British Labor Mission various resolutions, articles, and Losovsky's brochure on the history of Russian unionism, when I received a message from Radek asking me to call on a matter of great urgency. Wondering, I entered the automobile he had sent for me and was driven at a fast clip through the city till we reached the former quarters of the German Lega- tion, now occupied by the Third International. The elegant reception hall was filled with callers and foreign delegates, some of whom were curiously ex- amining the bullet marks in the mosaic floor and walls — reminders of the violent death Mirbach had met in this room at the hands of Left Social Revolu- tionists opposed to the Brest peace.
I was conscious of the disapproving looks directed at me when, out of my turn, I was requested to follow the attendant to the private office of the Secretary 148 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH of the Communist International. Radek received me very cordially, inquired about my health, and thanked me for so promptly responding to his call. Then, handing me a thick manuscript, he said: "Ilyitch (Lenin) has just finished this work and he is anxious to have you render it into English for the British Mission. You will do us a great service."
It was the manuscript of "The Infantile Sickness of Leftism." I had already heard about the forthcoming work and knew it to be an attack on the Left revolu- tionary tendencies critical of Leninism. I turned over some pages, with their profusely underscored lines corrected in Lenin's small but legible handwriting. "Petty bourgeois ideology of Anarchism," I read; "the infantile stupidity of Leftism," "the ultrarevolution- ists suffocating in the fervor of their childish enthu- siasm." The pale faces of the Butirki hunger strikers rose before me. I saw their burning eyes peering accusingly at me through the iron bars. "Have you forsaken us?" I heard them whisper.
"We are in a great hurry about this translation," Radek was saying, and I felt impatience in his voice. "We want it done within three days."
"It will require at least a week," I replied. "Be- sides, I have other work on hand, already promised."
"I know, Losovsky's," he remarked with a disparag- ing tilt of the head; "that's all right. Lenin's takes precedence. You can drop everything else, on my responsibility."
"I will undertake it if I may add a preface."
"This is no joking matter, Berkman." Radek was frankly displeased.
"I speak seriously. This pamphlet misrepresents and besmirches all my ideals. I cannot agree to trans- late it without adding a few words in defense."
"Otherwise you decline?"
"I do."
THE SPIRIT OF FANATICISM 149 Radek's manner lacked warmth as I took my de- parture.
A subtle change has taken place In the attitude of the Communists toward me. I notice coldness in their greeting, a touch of resentment even. My refusal to translate Lenin's brochure has become known, and I am made to feel guilty of Use majeste.
I have been accompanying the British Mission on its visits to mills, theaters, and schools, and everywhere I was aware of the scrutinizing gaze of the Tcheka- men attending the delegates as guides and interpreters. In the Delovoi Dvor the clerk has suddenly begun to demand my propusk and to ask my "business," though he knows that I live there and am helping the delegates with translations.
I have decided to give up my room in the Dvor and to accept the hospitality of a friend in the National. It is contrary to the rules of the Soviet Houses, no visitor being permitted to remain after midnight. At that hour the day's propuski, with the names of the callers and the persons visited, are turned over to the Tcheka. Not being an official guest of the Hotel, I am not entitled to meals and am compelled to commit another breach of Communist order by resorting to the markets, officially abolished but practically in opera- tion. The situation is growing intolerable, and I am preparing to leave for Petrograd.
"You have become persona non grata," Augustine Souchy, the delegate of the German Syndicalist Union, remarked as we were sitting in the Delovoi translating the resolutions submitted by Losovsky to the labor rep- resentatives of Sweden, Norway, and Germany.
"In both camps," I laughed. "My friends of the Left call me a Bolshevik, while the Communists look askance at me."
"Many of us are in the same boat," Souchy replied.
150 THE BOLSHEVIK MYTH Bertrand Russell passed by and called me aside. "I think nothing will come of our proposed visit to Peter Kropotkin," he said. "For five days they have been promising a machine. It's always 'in a moment it will be here,' and the days pass in vain waiting."
A curly-headed little Communist, one of the English- speaking guides assigned to the Mission, sauntered by, as if inadvertently.
"Is the machine ready?" Russell asked. "It was to be here at ten this morning; it's 2 P. M. now."
"The Commissar just told me that the machine unfortunately got out of order," the guide replied.
Russell smiled. "They are sabotaging our visit," he said; "we'll have to drop it." Then he added sadly: "I feel like a prisoner, every step watched. Already in Petrograd I became aware of this annoying surveil- lance. It's rather stupid of them."
I listened to some of the British delegates discussing the printers' meeting from which they had just re- turned. Melnitchansky and other Bolsheviki had addressed the gathering, eulogizing the Soviet regime and the Communist dictatorship. Suddenly a man wearing a long black beard appeared on the platform. Before anyone realized his identity, he launched an attack on the Bolsheviki. He branded them as the corrupters of the Revolution and denounced their tyranny as worse than the Tsar's. His fiery oratory kept the audience spellbound. Then someone shouted: "Who are you? Your name!"
"I am Tchernov, Victor Tchernov," the man replied in bold, defiant voice.
The Bolsheviki on the platform jumped to their feet in rage.
"Hurrah! Long live Tchernov, brave Tchernov I" the audience shouted, and a wild ovation was tendered THE SPIRIT OF FANATICISM 151