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 II 
 
 AUTHOR'S NOTE. 
 
 These few sketches which are but a slight attempt 
 to gather together some of my scattered articles, appeared 
 in The Outlook, N. Y. Times, N. Y. World, Brooklyn Eagle, 
 Washington Pott, etc., and also fragments of lectures de- 
 livered throughout the country, — are not intended for the 
 book market, but purely as an accommodation for my 
 friends interested in this vital subject. 
 
 Having lived in Russia for rearly a decade, I have 
 had the time and opportunity to make a thorough study of 
 that unfortunate country. The last year of my sojourn 
 was passed under the Bolshevik Rule, a year of vicissi- 
 tudes, which included hunger, captivity and eventually an 
 escape to the United States. My knowledge is accordingly 
 first hand, and to some extent I have tried to incorporate 
 actual events, experiences and people into these few pages. 
 
 My thanks are due to the editors of the above men- 
 tioned publications for the permission to reprint their 
 rightful material. 
 
 ALES. H. CARASSO, 
 
 Frederick, Md., 
 December, 1920. 
 
II 
 
TO MY ONLY CHILD, JURAH-GEORGE, 
 WHOSE FATE IS YET IN THE HANDS 
 OF GOD, THIS DOCUMENT OF TYR- 
 ANNY I DEDICATE. 
 
 01j^ JImttattfln nf (ttaitt 
 
 BY 
 A. H. CARASSO 
 
 GERMANY'S ROLE 
 
 Turning the pages of the French Revolution, one 
 sees with amazement the remarkable similarity to 
 horrible happenings now in Russia. The hundred 
 and thirty odd years intervening these bloody 
 epochs is barely noticeable. The tremendous pro- 
 gress in industry and culture developed within this 
 span of time has brought no change in the art of 
 Revolution. Telegraph and railroad, steamship and 
 wireless, telephone, street car, automobile and aero- 
 plane display no distinguishing role in the eternal 
 struggle of masses and classes. In other words the 
 remarkable material evolution of the past century 
 or so has wrought no transfiguration of human na- 
 ture. 
 
 The tiger prowling among mortal lusts in the 
 Eighteenth Century has risen to towering height 
 in the present, the Twentieth Century. Beasts in hu- 
 man form, as Robespierre, Danton, Marat, Char- 
 lotte Corday and others, have now merely changed 
 name to Lenine, Trotzky, Bruievitch, Zinoveiff, 
 
 1 
 
Sverdloff, Uritsky, Stekloff and Madame Colontay. 
 There are even the same parties: Octobrists — Jako- 
 bines (Bolsheviki), G-erondists (Mensheviki, or So- 
 cial Revolutionaries), and so forth. But this point 
 of difference is paramount; — the dignity and grace, 
 the spirit and sincerity of the old guillotinists are 
 absolutely lacking in the Russian-hangmen of to- 
 day. 
 
 In the French Revolution, as in the three Rus- 
 sian upheavals; of 1905 and of February and October 
 1917, neighboring G-ermany played no unimportant 
 part. Her's was always the hand outstretched to 
 traitors and destructionists in both Revolutionary 
 camps. Her cannon always stood ready to shelter 
 these undesirable perverters. To her ears the wail- 
 ing and gnashing of chaos and despair uplifted from 
 neighboring homes always sounded as sweet music. 
 Dangling the hook in her neighbor's streams of blood 
 and tears was always a favorite sport. 
 
 But the Twentieth Century Teutons were not 
 unmindful of the overwhelming defeat suffered by 
 the famous Brunswick army in 1791. Another stra- 
 tegy was therefore attempted during the Russian 
 revolution; instead of armies, Prussia sent a hand- 
 ful of political adventurers who could play upon the 
 base instincts of the unenlightened Russian masses. 
 With the aid of these adventurers, literally shower- 
 ed with gold, G-ermany succeeded in accomplishing 
 what the Brunswick forces could never do, namely, 
 the collapse of a formidable nation of two hundred 
 millions. 
 
 Germany was indeed aware that Russia, be- 
 cause of her powerful alliances, could never be de- 
 
feated in open battle. Therefore, even in the 
 midst of her triumphant beginning she had not much 
 faith in a victorious outcome. During the first year 
 of the war, when America was still protecting Ger- 
 man interests in Russia, it befell me as courier to 
 visit Germany. These were the days of conquest, 
 entire provinces of Poland, Belgium and France 
 with their enormous resources having quickly come 
 into German possession. Nevertheless, all was not 
 aglow in political circles. In response to my inquiry 
 came the complaining reply:. **The whole world is 
 against us. Now if the revolt should break in Rus- 
 sia then our victory would be assured. With degen- 
 erate France and * watery' England we can reckon 
 at will.*' (America was not seriously considered 
 then — merely a *^ paper hero"). 
 
 Germany scattered her agents over the surface 
 of the glebe penetrating everywhere Russian rev- 
 olutionists could be found. She perceived the sinis- 
 ter truth that every ideal group must have its turn- 
 coats, and with these turn-coats she drove her bar- 
 gain. Gold, the sustenance of turn-coats, was little 
 spared. Thousands, indeed millions of dollars, 
 passed from hand to hand, from border to border. 
 
 When the February revolution suddenly broke 
 forth in Russia as of its own accord, when the reins 
 of rule passed into the hands of such loyal and de- 
 voted sons as Milyukoff, Count Lvoff, Cutchkoff, 
 Shingarcff, and when the rhetorical phrases of 
 Kerensky were reaching far beyond the Russian bor- 
 ders; Germany started momentarily in awe, con- 
 fusion and terror. The early days of this great and 
 wonderful bloodless revolution presaged a genuine 
 
 3 
 
republic, such as the United States, conceivably, of 
 whose power Grermany was now gradually becoming 
 convinced. Imagine, a republic of two hundred mil- 
 lion souls; in all of Germany's dreams, she never 
 pictured such nightmare. But this fright was short, 
 the first decree of Kerensky, absolving the ten mil- 
 lion army of respect to officers and discipline, was 
 suflicient to revive the German hope immediately. 
 The enemy became more active than ever.. Thou- 
 sands of agents, with car-loads of gold, poured 
 across the undefended Russian borders — and the 
 carousal began. 
 
 Together with those sincere Revolutionists for 
 whom the gates of their home land were opened 
 gladly, were smuggled traitors bent on fulfilling the 
 German mission. With their assistance the habit 
 of fraternizing was fostered between Russian and 
 Teuton soldiers. For the brandy bottle or tobacco 
 pouch generously offered by the German, the unso- 
 phisticated Slav willingly exchanged his weapons 
 which, as he imagined, Russia no longer needed and 
 often, too, his uniform and boots. This fraterniza- 
 tion among the ** international proletariat was 
 preached by thousands of Russian '* revolutionists'' 
 whose General Headquarters were in the gorgeous 
 palace of the ex-Czar's favorite, dancer, Kshesyn- 
 skaia. 
 
 And the greatest Russian mouth-piece ''THE 
 FIRST LOVE OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLU- 
 TION" as the people then called Kerensky, anxious 
 to correct the error of his first decree, which he real- 
 ized at last, began speaking, and writing other de- 
 crees but instead of battering things he made them 
 
worse. The Russian soldier had already perceived 
 the weakness of the ''hero leader/' who abolished 
 the death penalty and opened jails, and was conse- 
 quently demoralized himself. Without the least 
 qualm, battalions of men abandoned arms and broke 
 ranks, making tracks to the Capital where a splen- 
 did reward was expected for three years of suffering 
 in the trenches. But the Russian nation, gradually 
 recovering itself, did not receive the deserters witt 
 any cordiality. Then — then these deserters were 
 treated to a welcome reception in Kshesynskaia's 
 palace, where Lenine, Trotsky, Kameniev and Kemp 
 had entrenched themselves. Machine guns and can- 
 non looked on with a friendly eye from every door 
 and window. The gory Bolshevik pennant blazoned 
 with the flaring inscription of pure German gold 
 flaunted proudly over the old city of Peter the G-reat. 
 Thus was laid the foundation of the bloody Bol- 
 shevik Army. Yes, on this front the treacherous 
 tactics of Germany were indeed successful. But one 
 event was not foreseen by Wilhelm! Namely, that 
 he too would have to drain the cup in which he had 
 administered poison to his neighbor. 
 
KERENSKY 
 
 Now, who is responsible for the ruin of that 
 great country, for the oceans of innocent blood and 
 for the infectious red disease which is poisoning the 
 world? Who endowed the red maniacs with such a 
 destructive pov/er? Nicholai Lenine could, positively 
 never have gained it, were it not for the utter impo- 
 tence of the new republic's absolute dictator, Alex- 
 ander Kerensky. One glance at his works dur- 
 ing the short term of his dictatorship will show you 
 how he had justified the confidence the great nation 
 had bestowed upon him. 
 
 From the moment of his advent in the polit- 
 ical arena, Kerensky, as it seemed to any capable ob- 
 server, was merely on opportunist. His decrees and 
 oratory, redundant with innumerable pretty phrases, 
 were seldom consistent. In fact, what could really 
 be expected from a young man in the thirties, of 
 mediocre abilities? 
 
 Who was Kerensky before the revolution? An 
 average lawyer, prominent merely for a few ''rad- 
 ical'* cases which he fought and seldom won. Pos- 
 ing before the working class as a ''champion of per- 
 secuted peoples" his declamation, reeking with class 
 feeling and pathos appealed strongly to the indis- 
 criminating proletariat— sm.oothing the path for 
 him directly into their hearts. Thence— into the 
 Duma. 
 
I recall my first glimpse of the Man, Kerensky. 
 It was on February 11, 1917, in the courtyard of the 
 Tavritchesky Palace. He was in the midst of an 
 eloquent discourse, apologizing to the laboring 
 masses for assuming the ministry of justice without 
 their consent. 
 
 **Tim.e was brief," he argued, ''The first repub- 
 lic had to be formed over night for us — to present 
 it before the great Russian people today in place of 
 the old rotten regime whose favorites — partly be- 
 hind these heavy doors you see yonder" — indicating 
 the inner portals of the Duma. 
 
 This was the first day of Russia's liberation. 
 Kerensky revelled as the hero of the working class. 
 Little astonishment was therefore, to be found in the 
 fact that the multitude embraced his profuse apol- 
 ogy with thundering applause and thoughtless 
 shouting. 
 
 ''Long live the first minister of the people, the 
 comrade, Kerensky!" 
 
 Together with my wife I studied the scene 
 from my vantage point near the outer stairway — 
 the improvised platform from which Kerensky was 
 delivering his harangue — and carefully, his per- 
 sonal appearance. 
 
 He was barely more than medium height, of 
 slender physique, rather weary-worn for his thirty 
 odd years, his eyes, not distinctive, of greenish- 
 brown color, and ever restless, his narrow brow in- 
 tensified the sensuousness of his mouth and retreat- 
 ing chin — this last feature hinting of a weak char- 
 acter. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of him?" my wife in- 
 terrupted my study. 
 
 7 
 
''He impresses me little,'* I was forced to ad- 
 mit. ''Lots of pomposity— but utter lack of genuine 
 greatness. No conviction. Also his talk — more 
 bluster than logic. '* 
 
 I am not certain that my wife agreed with me 
 that day. Since Kerensky was for the moment 
 the idol raging in the hearts of the young women. 
 But in the course of days since elapsing, I am sure, 
 that she was constrained to recognize the truth of 
 my first impression. 
 
 Vladimir Bourtzeff, one of the most honest and 
 competent Russian revolutionists, declared that 
 he did not regard Kerensky as a sincere socialist. 
 Bourtzeff was indeed correct. Nevertheless it is 
 true that Kerensky must be considered one of the 
 foremost figures of the February revolt. He severed 
 the thread of the Russian monarchy. 
 
 When the Czar issued his decree on February 
 8th, disbanding the Duma, it must be admitted Ke- 
 rensky was the one who defiantly exhorted a frac- 
 tion of the delegates to remain in the Tavritchesky 
 palace. It was Kerensky 's inciting argument that 
 inflamed his colleagues into the combative opinion 
 that they, not the Monk Rasputtin's favorites were 
 representing the people. 
 
 Yes, for the February revolution we owe much 
 to Kerensky. But that October reaction must also 
 be attributed to him, for none other was so deeply 
 responsible for the tragic Bolshevist debacle. It 
 was his covetousness for titles and higher political 
 achievements that ruined Russia. The post of min- 
 istry of justice in the new regime, which he assum- 
 ed without waiting for the workers' consent, had 
 
 8 
 
not long suited the mediocre lawyer Kerensky; his 
 ambition seemed hitched to a higher star. Strong 
 self-interest, evidently goaded him onward. The 
 Russian proletariat, versed in political as in Martian 
 affairs yielded willingly to his design: ^'Wouldst as- 
 sume the ministry of the interior?" ''Very well, as- 
 sume it." 
 
 "Wouldst have supreme command of the army 
 and navy?" "Why then become commander in 
 chief." 
 
 ''Wouldst enjoy the Czar's Chambers in the 
 Winter Palace?" "Why gladly, comrade, take even 
 the entire castle. We believe in you. We trust in 
 you. Only make us happy!" 
 
 No wonder the intellectuals jested that his next 
 step would be the Pariarchate. 
 
 It is self-evident that a pure lover of his people 
 would not have danced so nimbly from pillar to post, 
 eagerly seizing after positions of importance, tho 
 lacking necessary training and knowledge. What 
 remotest contact could this average lawyer ever 
 have had with matters of army and navy adminis- 
 tration? Does a genuine patriot seek so ardently his 
 personal interests when these are but harmful to his 
 nation? Truly, Kerensky must have considered 
 himself a second Napoleon — the Napoleon of the 
 Russian revival. In his eagerness to gain the pop- 
 ular confidence, Kerensky had, first off, issued a de- 
 cree that all enlisted men in army and navy be on 
 terms of equality with their officers. All insignias of 
 rank, as epaulettes, crosses of honor, medals, etc., 
 were to be abolished. None but the revolutionary 
 cross was to be recognized; despite the fact that the 
 
 9 
 
whereabouts of a revolutionary army were then un- 
 known, even to Kerensky. We know now the result 
 of this perverse manifesto; massacre of thousands 
 of officers in Cronstadt, Wyburg, and elsewhere. 
 How did Kerensky react to this gruesomness? What 
 a shame to tell. Instead of applying vigorous meas- 
 ures, without which all revolution is helpless, this 
 ''Statesman'' broke into tears and like the Pharisees 
 of old, beat his breast before the crowded audience 
 of the State Theatre. ''Oh rather had I died two 
 months ago than have lived to see this state of af- 
 fairs,*' was his wail now classic. And I quite agree 
 with him. Russia would have been spared the de- 
 gradation to which she has been reduced as the re- 
 sult of his surviving the first revolution. 
 
 Soon after this tragic declaration, Kerensky in 
 his great despair, performed one of his greatest po- 
 litical acts, namely: he abandoned his wife and mar- 
 ried a notorious stage beauty. 
 
 Realizing at this time the topsy-turvy condition 
 of the country, the anarchy brooding abroad, and the 
 wily gain of G-ermany at every one of his indiscreet 
 steps, Kerensky attempted to recall his demoral- 
 ized army. But this had now become a disorganized 
 horde of murderers and robbers roaming the coun- 
 try. We know the futility of his pathetic appeals. 
 He accomplished nothing more than the gathering 
 of a vast mob of criminals he himself had released 
 from jail. A touch of the comic was in this last de- 
 cree of Kerensky 's, for instance, his promise to all 
 freed criminals willing to appear at an appointed 
 time, to receive only half of their legitimate pen- 
 alty. The absurdity of such law making is obvious, 
 
 10 
 
but at that moment in Russia, nothing seemed ab- 
 solutely preposterous. Indeed, certain defectives 
 even faithfully kept their voluntary appointment 
 with the commission. 
 
 An official asked some of these conscientious 
 convicts: ''How much longer were you to serve ''^ 
 One replied that his sentence had expired a week 
 ago. Another admitted he had a minor portion of a 
 term yet due. "For how long were you sentenced?*' 
 queried the official, the first convict, "for life, your 
 honor," was the unwitting reply. 
 
 With such remedies Kerensky tried to adminis- 
 ter to the gasping, dying Russia; how effectively — 
 we can see only today. 
 
 For a little while, he was spurred to greater ac- 
 tivity, when his reputation was nearly lost in the 
 eyes of the allied entente, he flew to all fronts spit- 
 ting volleys of encouragement at the soldiers, ex- 
 horting the officers whom shortly before he nearly 
 annihilated, and recalling such famous generals as 
 Alexeieff, Ruzsky, Krasnoff, the honest Korniloff and 
 others, His grandiose promises to these fighters were 
 productive of that memorable tenth of August bat- 
 tle, where it almost seemed that the great Russian 
 Army had come to life again. It almost seemed so! 
 
 But it merely was the last flicker of a dying 
 flame, glowing momentarily as all of Kerensky's 
 achievements. His resounding phrases were imme- 
 diately thereafter drowned in the overwhelming 
 tumult brought on by the energetic preachers of the 
 Bolshevik gospel. The latter keenly exposed the 
 weaknesses of their quixotic opponent; no difficult 
 task for such clever stump speakers as Trotzky or 
 
 11 
 
Zinovieff. They demonstrated N. Lenine's definite 
 program in contrast to Kerensky's which did not ex- 
 ist. Dazzling were their promises to the peasants 
 and workers of equal land and v/ealth distribution, 
 to be effected immediately, and not when Kerensky 
 took it into his head to call a National Assembly. 
 They have pledged a heavenly Kingdom on earth 
 with Lenine as their Savior and protector. And the 
 unenlightened Russian Masses have willingly be- 
 lieved, and battalion after battalion deserted the Ke- 
 rensky trenches and joined the communist camp. 
 City after city had thus unresistingly passed into 
 the hands of the enemy. In addition to this calam- 
 ity arose the obscure Korniloff — Kerensky affair, 
 hastening the end. Tho regarded as a ''mystery" 
 by some, there is in reality no secret as to what act- 
 ually happened. 
 
 When the force of his last blunder in the form 
 of the lightning growth of the Bolsheviki, was 
 brought home to Kerensky, he was seriously scared. 
 
 The frequent parades of the Extreme Reds, with 
 rifles and banners bearing the menacing slogans: 
 ''Down with the Bourgeoise Rulers'' "Full Power 
 for the Soviets" "Down with the bloody War," 
 "The Soil for the Peasants," etc., all these had their 
 effect. The multitude began to feel cool towards its 
 "First Love" and turned to their new idol "the 
 friend of the people" Nicolai Lenine. In despera- 
 tion Kerensky made secret overtures to the ablest 
 and most beloved Russian General, Korniloff, be- 
 seeching him to advance immediately to Petrograd 
 and help sway the reins of power. 
 
 Aged General Korniloff, a genuine patriot, 
 
 12 
 
waived the frequent insults heaped upon him by the 
 young upstart upon hearing that Petrograd, city of 
 his heart's desire, was in danger. Hastily he rallied 
 the bravest of his loyal remnant and began to march 
 at once. But Lenine received word of this in time, 
 and unhesitatingly trained the throats of his ma- 
 chine-guns and field-pieces with utmost accuracy at 
 Kerensky's dwelling chambers, the Royal Winter 
 Palace. A well-armed Red Guard composed of the 
 premier's own former stalwarts inspected all per- 
 sons entering or leaving the dictator's grounds. The 
 Sailors always more friendly to Lenine, anchored 
 two battleships opposite the Winter Palace. And 
 one of the Bolshevik leaders, I believe the late Urit- 
 zky, telephoned to Kerensky bluntly: '*The mo- 
 ment comrade Kerensky undertakes any negotia- 
 tions with Korniloff, he and his family will be blown 
 to the skies. Our cannons are watching you at ev- 
 ery side, and they will tell you it's no joke." 
 
 Kerensky, whose bravery had consisted mostly 
 in bristling phrases, here meekly acquiesced. In 
 sharp distinction to others of Russia's loyal sons, 
 who have more than once offered their lives for the 
 salvation of their beloved motherland, Kerensky 
 bided his time and finally managed to flee Petrograd 
 in safety. 
 
 As to the sequel, it is well known. Korniloff 
 confident of meeting Kerensky, courageously and 
 unsuspectingly advanced toward the impending 
 catastrophe. Right into the teeth of the most per- 
 nicious civil war the world has known, marched this 
 brave loyal old general to his fate. 
 
 13 
 
The internecine strife resulting is still rife, 
 father still fighting against son, brother against 
 brother, in the perfect imitation of Cain. 
 
 To celebrate this fraternal bloodshed, the good 
 souls of Russia have burst into the Czar's treasured 
 wine cellars and drowned their long parched palates 
 until they reached unconsciousness. Then began 
 the unspeakable atrocities upon the '^ Death Battal- 
 ion*' of helpless women, originally formed to awaken 
 the courage of their wavering brothers and hus- 
 bands. The drunken soldiers were not sated with 
 the shameful rape of their sisters, but after the re- 
 pulsive act flung their victims into the dark flowing 
 Neva. 
 
 **Here you are women! Ha-ha-ha." Join the 
 army! resounded their bestial laughter. 
 
 Thus was celebrated the birth of the Bolshevik 
 regime. 
 
 14 
 
RUSSIA OF BYGONE DAYS AND THE RUSSIA 
 
 OF TODAY. 
 
 Russia is a land of eternal struggle. The year 
 1910, during which I arrived in Russia, was almost 
 as reactionary as the year 1919, during which I was 
 forced to escape from the Bolshevik Oppression. But 
 ten years ago, it was the Russian Bismarck, — Pre- 
 mier Stolipyn, who crushed every liberal thought and 
 movement with his iron hand. It was he who brought 
 the 1905 uprising to such a tragic end. His notor- 
 ious ** neck-lace'^ as one of the sarcastic Duma dele- 
 gates described his gallows-rope — strangled every 
 red throat in the Country. He was reactionary to 
 the depths of his soul — a brutal but an honest man. 
 Who knows, but perhaps his keen vision foresaw all 
 that is now happening in Russia — the land he knew 
 and loved so well. Yes, reaction was then at its 
 zenith. Nevertheless, it was the proletarian revolt 
 of 1905 that tore the veil from many an obscure cor- 
 ner and exposed Russia in a new and entrancing light 
 which aroused the curiosity of the world. 
 
 Russia was always a fairy land. Many good 
 souls in faraway countries have fancied that in Petro- 
 grad or Moscow wolves and bears are leisurely 
 prowling thru the streets at midday. But if this 
 idea has been exaggerated in regard to the metro- 
 polises, the legend contains a kernel of truth in the 
 case of provincial villages where the above men- 
 tioned visitors are not so rare. At the same time 
 
 15 
 
Russia possessed the most excellent theatres, as 
 Stainislawsky's Art Theatre in Moscow, and the 
 Maryinsky Opera House, in Petrograd, with a bal- 
 let the most perfect in the world. There are the 
 great picture galleries, the *' Hermitage ^^ in Petro- 
 grad and the TretiakoiT in Moscow. Indeed, at the 
 same time that the bears and wolves roamed freely 
 thru the streets of the villages, in the capitals, every 
 cobbler and doorman was in reach of a telephone. 
 Yes, Russia is a land of contrasts. In the village or 
 hamlet where most homes were roofless, one could 
 locate a villa or palace unrivalled in splendor any- 
 where on the continent. Oh, so beautiful was this 
 country! The golden domes of her innumerable 
 Byzantine churches fairly gleamed throughout the 
 land. And when on a holiday morning thousands 
 of gigantic bells pealed their chimes thru the skies, 
 it was almost incredible to fancy such divine har- 
 mony wrought on this sinful sphere Then 
 
 there is the diversity of the land. You can ride for 
 days and weeks and see only plain steppes without 
 tree or shrub — mere dreary stretches, such as the 
 steppes of Ufa and Orenburg. Then behold the 
 Caucasus; hundreds and hundreds of miles of moun- 
 tains, wonderfully striking mountains, as the Kas- 
 beck and the Elbrus — perhaps the most imposing in 
 the world. Then the endless expanse of waters; 
 lakes, rivers and seas. What can be more charming 
 than the primitive banks of the Volga; especially 
 the steep cliffs behind Nishny, whence the famous 
 river pirate, Attaman-Stienka Razine, threw the 
 Persian Princess into the deep. This river runs for 
 thousands of miles through Russia— from the Ger- 
 
 16 
 
man Border to the Urals and Caucasus. The seas — 
 Black, Caspian, and Baltic, open up all parts of Asia 
 and Europe. Then consider Crimea and the Ukraine 
 an area equivalent to several European countries 
 entirely covered with gardens of a'l fruits of the 
 world. Then view Siberia — you can wander there 
 for days and weeks, weeks and months and see noth- 
 ing but woods, woods and woods. The famous 
 Taiga. 
 
 All these scenes I have visited myself during 
 my sojourn of years in Russia, of times alone, of times 
 in the company of American tourists. 
 
 Now, her hospitality. Where in the world could 
 foreigners receive so cordial and sincere a reception 
 as in Russia? One arrives here without tongue, 
 without friends, without a solitary acquaintance; 
 and within a fortnight he has been already wel- 
 comed into the best Russian homes. Naturally, one 
 must possess a certain amount of education and re- 
 finement. Education, in particular, was there con- 
 sidered on a high plane. The person with educa- 
 tion, with some linguistic ability, and in addition, 
 of foreign birth, such a person was highly appre- 
 ciated, and beloved in Russia. With the kindly as- 
 sistance of his friends, his was open access to the 
 highest social and official life. And the manner in 
 which such education was there rewarded can scarce- 
 ly be conceived in America. And of course such per- 
 songes as ambassadors and consuls were reckoned 
 among the first men of the land. 
 
 Still more remarkable in hospitality to foreign- 
 ers was the villages. One entered a peasant's hut 
 and asked for a glass of water. He soon was invited 
 
 17 
 
to the table, where after a few moments a jug of 
 milk and a loaf of bread appeared. Forgetting his 
 daily task the peasant started to question you about 
 your country, family and business, and if it would 
 grow dark, or begin to rain, you might be sure, to 
 find shelter here. But don^t offer him any remun- 
 eration, this would only insult him. 
 
 18 
 
 11 
 
RUSSIA, THE HOME OF MODERN MUSIC, 
 LETTERS AND ART. 
 
 Since the early eighties, Russia had also occu- 
 pied one of the foremost ranks in the world of art. 
 Grlinky^ Tschaikowsky, Rubenstein, fathers of Rus- 
 sian classical music, not only founded, but erected 
 the structure of a new epoch. They were the first to 
 transcend the melodramatic Romanticism of the 
 Italian and French composers and wave their magic 
 wand all over the world. 
 
 Europe and America suddenly saw upon the 
 stage new un-puppet like characters who told of 
 their human experiences and feelings, in their hu- 
 manly musical language. From king to peasant, 
 each lived and sang his own song, the first of his 
 palaces, the last of his thatched cottages. The old 
 fashioned shepherds who were wont to sing truly 
 beautiful but angelically high melodies were left in 
 the background. In a word, the great Russians 
 created a vast human realism which has reigned to 
 the present day and will, I think, reign as long as 
 human souls are human. The Operas:. "Life for 
 the Czar," by Glinky, "The Queen of Spades" 
 and "Eugenie Onyegin," by Tschaikowsky, and 
 "The Demon", by Rubenstein, have no peer in the 
 musical world. Even their spiritual children and 
 grand-children as Mussorgsky, Rymsky-Korsakoff, 
 Rachmaninoff; Scriabin, and scores of others stand 
 asunder from the horde. 
 
 19 
 
The power of the Russian artist lies in his ex- 
 traordinarily broad culture. No country has such 
 educated artists as Russia. Commencing with the 
 gigantic Poushikine, Tolstoi, Dostoyefsky, Turg- 
 neiff, and concluding with the self-educated 
 Grorky, Andrieff, Tchekhoff, Kuprine and Archi- 
 basheff— all were products not of university 
 but of universal learning. Some of them 
 knew and controlled from four to eight lan- 
 guages, as for instance Tolstoi and Turgenieff who 
 hardly could tell which of the European tongues 
 they knew best (and in the word ''knew^* I mean all 
 it implies, speaking, writing, reading the entire lit- 
 erature and understanding the psychology of their 
 nations). For this reason we may read without won- 
 der **War and Peace" by Tolstoi, where all intrica- 
 cies of military strategy, natural history, geogra- 
 phy, biology, romanticism, music and history are 
 treated as by authorities specializing in each field. 
 Where in the world can one find such deep psychol- 
 ogical research as in Dostoyefsky 's romances? His 
 '^ Brothers Karamasoff" and ''Crime and Punish- 
 ment" do not have and, it appears to me, never will 
 have any match. Russia has also world-renowned 
 scholars as Podvitzotsky, Metchnikoff, Mendelieflf. 
 Indeed, this is a land of contrasts. Hand in hand 
 with eighty per cent, of illiterate population we find 
 such an Herculean learning restricted to a few. 
 
 The same is the case with Russian painters. 
 Commencing with Bruloif, famous for his immortal 
 painting, ''The Last Days of Pompeii", and conclud- 
 ing with the contemporary Riepin whose "Ivan the 
 Terrible," is internationally famous, all are incom- 
 
 20 
 
parable in their learning, psychological analysis and 
 technique. I do not mention here such original 
 geniuses as Ivanoff, Vasnietzoff Sieroff and Wrubel. 
 
 21 
 
r 
 
 THE RUSSIA OF TODAY. 
 
 Unfortunately, this is in the past. This is Rus- 
 sia of bygone days— before the war and revolution. 
 The Russia of today is entirely different — another 
 Russia, without hospitality, without musicians, 
 without writers, without painters. No, the last may 
 be said to still exist, but they are of another species: 
 I call them the **Red Painters,'^ for they recognize 
 no other color than that of crimson blood. These are 
 the Bolsheviki. Of this great country of endless 
 riches, country of artists and thinkers, the Bolshe- 
 viki have made a woebegone mad-house. Madmen 
 have risen over the land, overwhelmed all those op- 
 posing them and imprisoned them in dungeons. As 
 to all demented, the color of red appeals to them and 
 they redden the world around them. 
 
 Tragedy of tragedies. Tragedy of madmen. Its 
 stage managers have hidden it from the gaze of an 
 outer audience. And most tragic of all, this scene 
 of millions of souls weltering in blood is merely a 
 rehearsal boding an even greater, grimmer spectacle 
 to follow. Indeed, the bloodiest of pageants will 
 surely follow unless a courageous public opinion 
 arises to the cry of the moment and calls a halt to 
 the tragic farce. And farce it is, like that of Edgar 
 Allan Poe's, in which is depicted an uprising among 
 the inmates of a lunatic asylum who bind their keep- 
 ers and run the asylum to suit themselves. 
 
 22 
 
Such a madhouse is Russia today. Under the 
 open heavens these madmen wreak their lust. With 
 the blood of millions they stain their hands and 
 everything about them; cities, streets, homes, 
 schools. The death cry of their victims sounds sweet 
 to their ears for they spare none. They kill relent- 
 lessly, incessantly — no matter who their victims are, 
 Russians or foreigners. 
 
 23 
 
THE PERSECUTION OF FOREIGNERS. 
 
 The wholesale arrest of foreigners is due appar- 
 ently to the aversion on the part of the Bolsheviki 
 to permit the outside world to witness their maniac 
 doings. Any foreigner is liable to suspicion and 
 immediate arrest. Those capable of raising large 
 funds may sometimes bribe their way to freedom. 
 There are many today lingering in dungeons where 
 their only sustenence is a bit of hope, a pitcher of 
 water and a quarter of a pound of bread every 
 other day. Then sometimes they mysteriously dis- 
 appear. 
 
 American citizens have also tasted bread in 
 Russian jails. As soon as the news spread of our 
 soldiers landing on the Murman coast a series of 
 wholesale arrests of Americans began. 
 
 The extraordinary Commission, a sort of mediae- 
 val inquisition, gathered in all discoverable Ameri- 
 cR.ns and Frenchmen. Some have been able to buy 
 their ^vay to freedom at a price of from ten thousand 
 to one hundred thousanri x"ub]es. Many others who 
 unfortunately cannot afford to pay such big sums 
 are still festering in underground cells, awaiting 
 their release here or in the world eternal. Any 
 moment our American brethren may be sent to 
 Cronstadt to be shot, victims of Bolshevik's wild 
 mania. 
 
 Hear them. Hear them cry: America help! 
 
 24 
 
Nor did I escape the unfortunate fate of these 
 foreigners caught in their grasp. On the thirteenth 
 of November, 1918, I was compelled to visit on busi- 
 ness the ''Northern Commune" as the old city of 
 Peter the Great is now called. During the day I had 
 a premonition that something evil would befall me, 
 for at every step I made thru the city I perceived 
 two suspicious characters spying on me from a dis- 
 tance. For this reason I hid all my money and 
 jewelry that evening with special precaution, for I 
 was ready for everything. 
 
 Indeed, about two o'clock that night a power- 
 ful knock thundered at my door. ''Who is there?'' 
 I asked. "The Extraordinary Commission" came 
 in reply. I was forced to open. Half an hour later 
 I was at the late Municipal Headquarters, now occu- 
 pied by the "Extraordinary Commission". 
 
 Upon my query for the reason of my arrest, I 
 was given the cold reply, "As American officer and 
 spy." They were all aware that I was neither. But 
 what could I do? 
 
 Six and a half v/eeks I spent in an underground 
 dungeon, subsisting on two ounces of bread and a 
 can of water a day. The sword constantly hung over 
 my head. Each day saw some of my fellow- prisoners 
 spirited away — and they were never seen again. 
 
 Nevertheless, through the neverfailing medium 
 of a considerable amount of money, I managed to 
 buy my freedom. The end of December found me in 
 Stockholm. Fancy my elation when I did find my- 
 self able to breathe freely without the fear of death. 
 Also I could eat as much as I wished. Yet my joy 
 was sadly incomplete, for far, far, in that cold lane' 
 
 25 
 
of Russia, surrounded by the red maniacs, were left 
 my wife and my adorable four-year-old boy George. 
 Only God Almighty knows what has befallen them 
 in the long months since last I saw them. Are they 
 even Alive? 
 
 Oh, if I could only bring Bolshevism home to 
 you as it has been brought home to me. It is so hard 
 for those in civilized countries to picture it even in a 
 general way. Could you imagine New York in ruins, 
 its great white way littered with dead horses; all 
 restaurants, gilded lobster palaces, theatres closed? 
 This description may seem exaggerated to some of 
 you, but I have seen this state of affairs in Petro- 
 grad — the New York of Russia — and let me tell you 
 that it was really very tragic. 
 
 Five-six years ago Petrograd was one of the 
 liveliest cities in Europe. Her streets were bustling 
 with activity. Her homes, shops, theatres, and res- 
 taurants were brilliant with life, gaiety and excite- 
 ment. Her people were happy in the day^s work 
 and play. 
 
 Today this great metropolis is barren as a 
 desert. There is no trace of her former glory. Her 
 restaurants and theatres are the grimy barracks of 
 a lunatic army. Instead of the sweet strains of 
 music are heard the roar of cannon and the staccato 
 barks of machine guns. People are impoverished 
 and hungry. Children die before their birth or 
 afterwards on their mothers' fallen bosoms. Not 
 only do people drop from exhaustion but even the 
 machines, factories and traffic halt for lack of 
 energy. People are too busy cutting throats to cut 
 wood for fires. 
 
 26 
 
Nevsky Prospect, once the Fifth Avenue of 
 Petrograd, whose fair pedestrians compared with 
 the fairest on the Avenue de T Opera, or Picadily, 
 whose granite pavements were models of cleanliness, 
 is no more. Now these walks are littered with rub- 
 bish, and commonest frequenters are dead horses, 
 whose pestilential odors are rife with diseases — 
 horses which disappear at night in a mysterious 
 manner, that is mysterious to him who has not felt 
 hunger. 
 
 I have seen the famished figures creep forth at 
 night, knife in hand, to prey on this God-Sent car- 
 rion. Providence is kind and illumination is absent; 
 no one will interfere. He who is first upon the scene 
 claims the choicest morsel, and what cares he if its 
 nourishment is infectious? Or if he even must cross 
 daggers for his fatal morsel? 
 
 I have seen mothers and daughters creeping 
 forth sometimes in twilight to appease their hunger 
 on raw horse flesh. My wife saw one such sight that 
 prostrated her. When I finally revived her, the 
 horse and its famished guests had entirely disap- 
 peared — it all happened in a few minutes. 
 
 27 
 
CATEGORIES. 
 
 Not all classes have to fight over carrion; there 
 are some people who are thriving comparatively 
 well. These are the fortunate those of the ** first 
 category". The population in Russia is divided by 
 the Bolsheviki into four categories. 
 
 The first category is made up of those who are 
 doing hard work for the Grovernment. Soldiers are 
 included in this class and workers in G-overnment 
 factories. The Bolshevist Government tries to take 
 good care of its army, and in great measure succeeds. 
 Members of the first category are allowed half a 
 pound of bread a day, and they can buy it at the 
 Soviet shops at a comparatively reasonable rate. 
 The second category consist of clerical workers, ser- 
 vants and the like whether in the employ of the Gov- 
 ernment or of private persons. Each member of this 
 class is allowed a quarter of a pound of bread a day, 
 at the same price. 
 
 The third class is made up of such people as the 
 widows of officers and members of the nobility who 
 are living on pensions or private incomes. The 
 widow of a General, for example, gets a pension of 
 1000 rubles a month, but that is only worth about two 
 dollars actual purchasing power in Russia now. 
 These people are allowed sometimes as often as once 
 a week, but rarely with such frequency either one 
 eighth or one-sixteenth of a pound of bread, a pound 
 or half pound of potatoes. 
 
 The fourth category consists of the proprietors 
 of little shops and factories. Their weekly food al- 
 
 28 
 
lowance is two herrings — no bread or vegetables at 
 all.Their tools have been taken from them, they have 
 no materials to work with, but, if they have employed 
 people, they must continue paying their wages. The 
 last two classes have no rights, whatever; in Mos- 
 cow they cannot even ride in the street cars. 
 
 All the food that few fortunates get in addition 
 to their allowance must be purchased at such exor- 
 bitant prices that can hardly be conceived in a coun- 
 try where people cry about the H. C. of L. when bread 
 costs only 9c a pound. 
 
 Here are some quotations current in Petrograd: 
 
 Rubles. 
 
 Bread, black, corn, per pound 200 to 300 
 
 Potatoes, unwashed, per pound 60 to 100 
 
 Butter, or fat, per pound 500 to 800 
 
 Apples, each 50 to 100 
 
 Horse meat, per pound 250 to 400 
 
 If you imagine that these articles of food can be 
 bought in the open market, you are mistaken. Only 
 in silent by-streets under the hidden cloak can they 
 be bought, and woe to the buyer if caught in the act 
 ^y the Red Guard. If said authority merely confis- 
 cates the food, the buyer can be happy, for he might 
 have been led off to a place of repentence for a long 
 period of meditation. 
 
 A familiar scene is as follows: You are passing 
 the market place, when a moderately intelligent 
 looking being approaches you and confidentially 
 hints of a small loaf hid under his coat. Hungrilly 
 you halt him and clinch the bargain. A sad looking 
 civilian comes out from behind, a shrill whistle and 
 suddenly about you rise, as from under the ground, 
 
 29 
 
a score of Red Guards ready to shoot you at the least 
 motion. In a second you are standing before the 
 Soviet Sommissar. 
 
 Folk-kitchens have replaced the restaurants. 
 As private purchase of food is forbidden, citi- 
 zens are compelled to resort to the public bread line, 
 often waiting for hours w^ith their meal tickets for 
 their day ration of a slice of bread. 
 
 The public kitchen affords a dish of hot water 
 and dirty cabbage, potato or strong smelling fish for 
 more or less a reasonable price. It is indeed a pleas- 
 ure to enjoy this after waiting in line thru zero 
 weather for five, or six hours in company with thieves 
 and beggars. But to have the privilege of eating 
 in these kitchens, one must belong to the first two 
 categories. 
 
 30 ] 
 
SOVIETS. 
 
 In Petrograd, Moscow, Kiev, and other big 
 cities councils — or Soviets — were formed by these 
 new rulers of all Russia. These councils were assem- 
 blies, or parliaments, comprised of delegates sup- 
 posedly chosen by soldiers, workingmen, and peas- 
 ants to represent them. These delegates were sent 
 from the smaller localities to act in a higher center, 
 and so on. 
 
 The peasants were very conscientious in their 
 election of representatives. They chose spokesmen 
 of undoubted character, as a rule, to champion the 
 needs of the rural electorate with honest vigor. But 
 such spokesmen no sooner arrived at the higher cen- 
 ter than they were submitted to scrutiny by the pre- 
 siding officer of the soviet with a view of ascertaining 
 their sympathies toward Bolshevism. Woe betide 
 them if the examination indicated a lack of sym- 
 pathy, for the lot of the so-called counter-revolution- 
 ist, or ** enemy of the people, ^^ is unenviable. 
 
 The councils were in this manner stuffed to the 
 brim with honest-to-goodness Bolsheviks whose per- 
 sonal interest gained in precedence during their 
 *' legislation,'' which was ostensibly intended to pro- 
 mote the welfare of the populace. 
 
 Lenine's first decree compelled all Russian 
 landowners to surrender their possessions to the 
 rightful rulers of the soil — the peasants. 
 
 31 
 
When this transfer of land rights had been con- 
 summated, the peasants, naturally, awaited the be- 
 stowal of these lands upon them by the Soviets. Had 
 not this property been confiscated in their name? In- 
 deed yes; but, in spite of this fact, the Soviets did 
 not revert these lands to the peasants gratis. 
 
 For an exorbitant price that almost doubled 
 that asked for by the former landholders the Soviets 
 offered this confiscated property to the peasants — 
 poor deluded ''rightful rulers of the soil!" Thus 
 arose the first clash between the peasants and their 
 soviet ''representatives." 
 
 The peasant now realized that he had been 
 swindled and began to protest. But of what avail 
 was the plaint of a common boor against an array of 
 bayonets? 
 
 The moujik was forced to acquiesce meekly in 
 this fiasco, for he was in dire need of soil, in need of 
 bread. True, not all of the bread he produced be- 
 longed to him. For while he could toil from sunrise 
 to sunset on his soil, its growth belonged to the com- 
 munistic soviet. The laboring food-grower could 
 consume only his one pound of bread per diem; the 
 distribution of the rest was in the hands of the soviet 
 agent. This procedure proved to be indigestible for 
 the rustic understanding. 
 
 The difficulties of crop-raising in the recent sea- 
 son have been enormous. In addition to the extor- 
 tionate cost of land, the peasant found himself con- 
 fronted with the lack of tools. Russia had failed 
 in the last few years to promote the agricultural im- 
 plement industry; import has been impossible; and 
 the peasant resorted perforce to primitive methods. 
 
 32 
 
I know cases where farmers actually fashioned 
 plowshares from wood and saplings. Since oxen and 
 horses had been confiscated, it was only natural to 
 span wife and daughter in the yoke (the son was 
 probably killed in the war.) The minor implements 
 were so rare that fifteen copeck (7^2 cents) reap- 
 ing hooks were sold for 200-250 rubles, scythes for 
 750-1250 rubles, each, and purchase of these was pos- 
 sible only under duress. 
 
 The proverbial patience of the moujik was con- 
 sequently strained to the bursting point — and fin- 
 ally it burst! Then ensued a life-and-death strug- 
 gle between peasant and soviet. 
 
 The Russian people have from time immemorial 
 been accustomed to seek succor beneath the bene- 
 volent shadow of the Church. The clergy, mostly 
 descended from rustic ancestry, now extended com- 
 fort to their suffering parishes and counseled them 
 to evade these unjust ''laws" of the Soviets, to con- 
 ceal their produce under ground, in the roof -thatch- 
 ing, etc. Soon the Soviets became aware of this un- 
 ion between Church and peasant, and a terrible op- 
 pression of the priests resulted. 
 
 In the province of Kaluga, where my estate was 
 located, a tragic episode occurred. The peasants, 
 indignant at the exploitation of the soviet, organ- 
 ized an armed force, under the leadership of some 
 abbots whose monastery was the rendezvous for de- 
 fense. The local soviet, apprised of this ''uprising," 
 sent a band of several hundred armed Bolsheviki to 
 overwhelm the monastery, but the attempt was un- 
 successful. A hurry call for aid was sent to Mos- 
 cow, one hundred miles away, and immediately the 
 
 33 
 
higher soviet furnished an expedition of an entire 
 regiment of Lettish mercenaries, accompanied by 
 four armored cars and supply trains. These attack- 
 ed the monastery at midnight, and before noon of 
 the next day reduced the monastery, village, and en- 
 tire surroundings to a heap of ashes. The few re- 
 maining monks were hung upon a few remaining 
 door-posts. Scarcely anything was left undestroy- 
 ed— even the produce for which this struggle was 
 fought. For what use was bread when disobedience 
 to Bolshevism was in question? 
 
 After this victory of Peremishl, as the village 
 was called, a reign of terror was instituted against 
 Church and clergy over the land. 
 
 The first victim was the kindly liberal sage 
 Bishop Theophane, of the Caluga Province. This 
 pious theologian, whose radical writings are renown- 
 ed beyond the boundaries of his land, came from a 
 noble lineage and was endowed with a great measure 
 of academic and juridical learning. Being of a pro- 
 foundly liberal temperament, he was persona non 
 grata in the Czar's regime. Prior to the February 
 revolution he had been ordered before the court on 
 a charge of defending a deacon who in drunkenness 
 committed an act of lese-majeste — having called the 
 Czar a dunce-head. It was said that the Bishop 
 claimed that his deacon had spoken in drunkenness 
 what many thought in sobriety. 
 
 Such a figure of outspoken liberal tendencies 
 was a victim of Lenine-Trotsky oppression. In the 
 midst of night agents broke into the bishopric to 
 search the possessions of the sleeping Churchman, 
 to drag him to the soviet. His horses and carriage 
 
 34 
 
were confiscated, his cow sequestered. The old man 
 w^as a vegetarian — yet they left him not even the 
 least nourishing edible. The soviet made his life 
 impossible. Before I left Russia I heard a report 
 that he had been mysteriously murdered. 
 
 Bishop Theophane is only one of Russia's cler- 
 ical martyrs. Brutally have the sons of the 
 Church been massacred and the monasteries despoil- 
 ed. The treasures of ages have been shamefully 
 torn from sacred relics and shared as booty by Bol- 
 shevic pilferers. Holy places have been transform- 
 ed into stenching barracks; learned, dignified the- 
 ologians have been thru.st by means of blows and 
 threats into the uniform of soviet soldiers. And the 
 righteousness of Christ has departed from Russia 
 forever? That is for the world to answer. 
 
 Who com^prise the Soviets, the actual rulers of 
 the country? Mostly illiterate persons, unable to 
 sign their names, and of high criminal pedigree. 
 Their life creed was Isarned in prison and their 
 training in the ways of robbery and murder. 
 
 When that great political charlatan Kerensky 
 bethought himself to open the jails, a great many 
 criminals were released who were clever enough to 
 ally themselves with the Socialistic party. They 
 were received with open arms. The impress of their 
 chains on ankle and wrist were marks of honor. 
 
 But during the first Provisional Government, at 
 the head of which stood such idealists as those of the 
 Prince Lvofi Cabinet, these criminals had little op- 
 portunity to share in the government. 
 
 Only after October 21, 1917, when Lenine and 
 Trotsky usurped power, these ex-murderers obtain- 
 
 35 
 
ed their first chance to assert themselves. From the 
 street-corner meetings of the Bolsheviki these ruf- 
 fians learned to prate from Karl Marx. The reign 
 of terror began with the imprisonment of the capital- 
 ist first, and then of any one else suspected of hav- 
 ing property. Every house and club was raided. 
 Twice was my purse the victim of socialization. 
 
 I remember one midnight raid upon our club. 
 The doors were burst open. *'In the name of the 
 Revolution!" entered a host of Red Guards. They 
 were specialists in their craft. They left not an ar- 
 ticle of value on the premises. They knew all the 
 hiding-places. 
 
 This all occurs under the guise of authority. 
 Factories, homes, shops, are daily confiscated — or 
 ** socialized" — under these self -same mandates. 
 
 In the midday a commissar enters your office 
 and tells you that your office is to be surrendered to 
 the Grovernment. You do not protest, for if you do 
 you are condemned as a counter-revolutionist. Un- 
 til the last autumn the commissars were not so harsh 
 in the case of your dwelling. They merely confiscat- 
 ed your rentals and luxuries, but allowed you to oc- 
 cupy your premises and pay rent to the soviet for 
 your own property. But for the last few months, 
 since they started their system of ** equal distribu- 
 tion, "you are not allowed to hold a room for yourself, 
 but you are forced to quarter together with Red 
 Gruard families or homeless tramps. But if the Gov- 
 ernment needs your premises for their purposes you 
 must vacate within twenty-four hours. 
 
 *' Enough for the rich, now let the poor be su- 
 preme" is the new watchword. 
 
 36 
 
A WEEK FOR THE POOR. 
 
 Zinovieff, the G-overnor of Petrograd, originat- 
 ed the beautiful idea of a Week of the Poor, a ''Ne- 
 dielia Biednoty," consisting of hundreds of robber 
 bands which daily search all residences equipped 
 with commissars' mandates, in order to take away 
 what they can. If one has a new and old overcoat, 
 one is left the old overcoat. If one has two pairs of 
 old and three pairs of new underwear, one is left two 
 pairs of old underwear. If one has two blankets, the 
 better one is taken. 
 
 What such robbery means to the poor Russians 
 can be understood from the following price scale: 
 
 Rubles. 
 
 Shoes, per pair 3,000-6,000 
 
 Overcoat 10,000-20,000 
 
 Suit 15,000-25,000 
 
 Socks, per pair 300- 600 
 
 Blankets 10,000-20,000 
 
 Now the brutality with which this hor- 
 rible decree has been executed can scarcely be 
 mentioned before a civilized public. Neverthe- 
 less, 1 cannot restrain myself from relating at least 
 one tragic episode of the thousands occurred, and as 
 I have reason to relieve, are still very common in the 
 Bolshevik republic 
 
 37 
 
As both the victim herself, a highly refined arid 
 cultured girl of twenty- one, and her aged aristocra- 
 tic parents were very intimate friends of my family, 
 I was most accurately informed about the horrible 
 incident. It came to pass just a few days previously 
 to my arrest, and the appalling details communicated 
 to me by the unfortunate parents have added a great 
 deal to my tortures during the endless weeks of 
 imprisonment. 
 
 The christian name of this victim was Vera, her 
 second name, for obvious reasons, I will change into 
 Goremikin, and under this name will I try to narrate 
 the horrible story. 
 
 38 
 
 i 
 
VERA'S CASE. 
 
 The threat of such a decree had long hung over 
 Russia, driving dire dread into the souls of all un- 
 fortunately called ''bourgeois/' The precise mean- 
 ing of this new Soviet promulgation was clear exact- 
 ly to none; the only thing certain was that this in- 
 volved new oppression, new persecution. And hearts 
 shuddered. 
 
 Rumor had it that Lenine himself did not con- 
 sent to this declaration and that in his opinion it was 
 indeed nearly time to call a halt, for everything 
 that could be done to the hated capitalistic class had 
 been done, and that an excess of vengeance would 
 bring harm rather than good. For that reason, he 
 was disinclined to permit this orgy to occur in Mos- 
 cow, his capital. And if Lenine himself disapproved 
 of a new step of persecution, this was certainly a 
 sign of its intolerability. But the self-appointed 
 rulers of the other provinces, such as ZinoviefF in 
 Petrograd and Vitolin in Kaluga, calculated that 
 Bolshevism had attained such a stage that caution 
 was no longer necessary. Therefore Zinovieff gave 
 the first signal in Petrograd, and his action was fol- 
 lowed in the majority of minor provinces through- 
 out the country. Then began the carousal! 
 
 The alleged motive for the occasion was to pro- 
 vide warm blankets and warm clothing for paupers 
 and the army. 
 
 39 
 
Proletarian houses were to be exempted from 
 search. Every raid was to be authorized officially. 
 A special mandate was to be presented by every Red 
 Gruard before entering the premises to be investi- 
 gated. The search must be made without dispatch 
 and without brutality. No articles, not specifically 
 mentioned in the mandate, were to be touched. 
 
 So stated the published decree. But its perfor- 
 mance was of a different nature. Especially in the 
 case of my friends, the Goremikins was this mani- 
 festo accorded a grim interpretation. 
 
 One afternoon, when Vera had returned from 
 school and had hastened to greet her sick moth- 
 er confined in a remote chamber, a sharp ring was 
 heard at the door. Save mother and daughter, no- 
 body was home. Old Dr. G-oremikin had gone with 
 Boris, their invalid son, to one of the hospitals where 
 the physician was employed. Vera went to the door 
 herself. 
 
 She thought it must be one of the patients 
 calling, and therefore opened the portals without 
 hesitation. Instead into the house walked two indi- 
 viduals of tall stature, with curled mustaches — au- 
 thentic types of the former Czarist gendarmes. They 
 were attired in ordinary Red Guard uniforms, but 
 of superior material. Both were not much over 
 twenty and far from ungainly. One of them, with a 
 light gash over his brow, apparently the elder, cour- 
 teously presented a document to Vera with the polite 
 excuse: 
 
 ''You appear to be the mistress of this resid- 
 ence. Therefore, will you please read this order? 
 We are from the Committee on Poverty./' 
 
 40 
 
The paper bore instruction to the effect that its 
 bearers were empowered by authoritative decree 
 to rummage through all w^ardrobe closets and cab- 
 inets and to confiscate for the need and use of the 
 Soviet Republic what articles were found to be su- 
 perfluous for the resident family. 
 
 Vera was young and confident. Therefore, she 
 could not realize accurately the possible outcome 
 of such instructions. She merely replied that she 
 would inquire of her mother who was lying sick in 
 her chamber. The officials exchanged glances fur- 
 tively, and the scarred one, with a smirk, offered to 
 escort her for, according to law, immediately upon 
 presentation of the warrant, these premises were in 
 lawful control. So Vera was forced to acquiesce. 
 
 The Groremikin house was built on the corridor 
 or hotel plan in the form of an L; that is, there was 
 a long corridor which turned to the right leading 
 past the eleven rooms of the apartment. The ailing 
 Madame Goremikin was sleeping in the last chamber 
 at the toe of the L-foot. To reach her, it was neces- 
 sary to pass all eleven doors looking into the nar- 
 row corridor. Elisavetha Dmitrovna, Vera's mother, 
 who had become accustomed of late to all sorts of 
 trouble was not astounded by this new disturbance. 
 She told her daughter to show the *' gentlemen** all 
 their clothing closets. The official insisted at first, that 
 Vera open the large old chest in the sick chamber. 
 She complied. But other than summer frocks and 
 lingerie, there was nothing. As they did not touch 
 a single vestment, the women's fears were somewhat 
 allayed. When the intruders had finished their 
 search the younger asked Miss Goremikin. 
 
 41 
 
**How many persons are in your house/' 
 **Four, Father, mother, brother and 1.'* 
 Where are the others?'' 
 
 ''In the Troyitsky Hospital,'' the mother re- 
 sponded, *'my husband is the chief surgeon there." 
 
 ''Ah!" said the questioner, and he glanced 
 significantly at his colleague. The other apparent- 
 ly comprehended, for a satisfied grin spread over 
 his features. But his wink and smile were unno- 
 ticed by the women. Perhaps, if they had observed 
 it, they might have been more cautious in their re- 
 plies. The elder official hastily exclaimed: 
 
 "Well, why are we dilly-dallying? We must 
 see the other rooms. We've plenty to do today. Ex- 
 cuse us, kindly, for this interruption. Believe me, 
 it is not in our power to do otherwise. We are com- 
 pelled to make this search." 
 
 These last words of apology set the misgivings 
 of the women entirely to rest. Only when they de- 
 parted from the invalid's room and locked the door 
 from the outer side, as a "legal precaution," was 
 Vera for a moment uneasy. But the feigned 
 affability of their tones quickly soothed her into a 
 delusion of safety. 
 
 "We shall commence with the room nearest the 
 entrance," declared the elder official. "Whose is it, 
 barishnia." 
 
 "Mine," te girl informed him innocently. 
 
 The long row of white doors flitted past them 
 until they arrived at their destination. As they en- 
 tered, the younger man quickly turned the key in 
 the door, again as a "legal precaution." 
 
 42 
 
Vera*s boudoir was done entirely in white. 
 The walls were papered white, and the ceiling 
 calcimined in white. The furniture was white - 
 painted and the bed of a spotless white. Even the 
 mouldings of the portraits were white. All this in 
 addition to the white canopy which hung from the 
 ceiling over the white bed imparted to the room an 
 air of remarkable cleanliness. 
 
 The two inquisitors, as they passed the thresh- 
 hold of this immaculate bed-chamber, for a moment 
 appeared abashed. Perhaps in the depths of their 
 souls throbbed a nerve of their former consciences. 
 Perhaps in this very moment their thoughts flashed 
 back to their young, guiltless sisters, somewhere in 
 a remote village from which, undoubtedly, the two 
 men came. Who knows? But this human impulse 
 swayed them only a brief second before an animal 
 gleam flickered in their eyes as they proceeded to 
 their appointed task. The elder ordered the girl 
 to open the white wardrobe which was standing be- 
 tween the bed and the window. Here, as in Madame 
 Goremikin^s room they could discover nought else 
 but flimsy blouses, corsets, and mysterious maidenly 
 knick-knacks of airy cambric, linen, and silk. The 
 same findings resulted from the carved chest stand- 
 ing opposite. The younger of the pair, guarding the 
 door, observed a gilded powder-case on Vera's toilet 
 dresser, which he stealthily slipped into this pocket. 
 Neither was the same fate avoided by the gold min- 
 iature suspended over the dresser mirror. But no 
 other extraordinary dexterity was as yet shown by 
 the intruders. It almost seemed as if they were 
 leisurely engaged on mere preliminaries, and that 
 
 43 
 
their chief object was still ahead of them. And in 
 fact, they soon diverted themselves to the main task. 
 The older critically studied the silk pique cover 
 spread over the bed and felt its inner contents with 
 his hand. He was on the point of lifting the cover- 
 let, reconsidered and requested Vera to do so. 
 
 Vera neared her bed with downcast head. Tears 
 sprang into her eyes. Until now none had ever dar- 
 ed to approach her virgin couch. None had ever 
 seen it in any but orderly array. And now she must 
 lift the white coverlet before an impudent mascu- 
 line gaze. But what else could she do? Protests 
 would not avail in this instance. She was too ob- 
 viously entirely in their power. Why, why had she 
 not at least her mother with her? Suddenly a ter- 
 rible thought struck her dumb. Why had they clos- 
 ed her mother's door from the outer side? They must 
 have had some dreadful aim in view. But what? 
 Vera's mind refused to go further. 
 
 She was now standing between the uncovered 
 bed and the elder official. Her tender full figure was 
 leaning against the silvered posts, her hand resting 
 on the top cushion. Slowly she raised her tearful 
 pleading eyes to the two ransackers. Only an in- 
 solent suspicious smile, no spark of human feeling, 
 was the answer. The girl was beginning to re- 
 move the cushions, fresh and soft as herself. But 
 the official did not permit her. 
 
 ''Don't bother, barishnia, the cushions can re- 
 main. We wish only to examine the warm blan- 
 kets." 
 
 From Vera's heart a heavy stone seemed to be 
 lifted. She would not have to reveal her virgin bed 
 
 44 
 
 I 
 
after all before the gaze of these insolent men. She 
 lifted a corner of her coverlet very slightly. 
 
 **You see, sirs, under this pique spread, there is 
 a single warm satin cover, only one.^' 
 
 The older searcher bent to touch the cover with 
 his fingers, and then with a sudden dash of lightning 
 speed he clasped Vera around the waist and was 
 showering her with sensuous smacks. 
 
 For a moment Vera was breathless. The kisses 
 had not only sealed her lips but had even halted her 
 life-energy. She had never- been embraced like this 
 by a stranger before. But Vera was a daughter of 
 the Goremikin family, with whom courage and self- 
 reliance are strongly characteristic. She did not yell 
 or scream for her mother as another girl in her place 
 might have done. She was aware that her invalid 
 mother was confined in the eleventh chamber on the 
 other corridor and could not hear her, and even if 
 she could have heard, would have been unable to 
 aid — the rascals had locked her in securely enough. 
 Therefore, as soon as she recovered from her first 
 bewilderment, she hurled the weight of her body 
 against her assailant, and the unwelcome lover stag- 
 gered back to the end of the room. At the same mo- 
 ment, the other brute sprang to her and without a 
 word began thrusting her onto the bed. Then the 
 repulsed one returned and with a snarl flung him- 
 self upon his rival. But the younger did not lose 
 himself. Without releasing his victim from his 
 mighty grasp, he cried to his comrade: 
 
 **Get out, you greedy dog! Why should you al- 
 ways get the first snack? Weren't you first yester- 
 day at the Sokoloffs? And that time at the Mur 
 
 45 
 
aviovffs? No, you watch the door this time and let 
 me be first!'' 
 
 The other, growling fiercely, assented to his 
 opponent's argument. 
 
 The girl, now recovering her consciousness, 
 endeavored to free herself from this second brutal 
 attack, but the moujik's grip w^as strong as iron. 
 She couldn't so much as turn an inch. When 
 she realized that resistance was in vain, she humbled 
 her pride and began pleading. 
 
 '^What will you gain by making such a helpless 
 being as myself unhappy? I have an old father who 
 can hardly bear himself up on his feet. And my 
 mother you have already seen. What you wish to 
 do will surely bring them into the grave. You do 
 not look like professional murderers. On your faces 
 I see a noble spirit. You must have mothers and 
 sisters. Oh, let me be, and I will give you all the 
 jewelry still left to me." 
 
 And with her free hand she tore a golden cross 
 hung by a platinum chain from her neck, placing it 
 on the shoulder of her aggressor. He seized it rav- 
 enously, but hugged her maiden bosom closer to his 
 rough breast. His heart was untouched. Vera 
 begged perseveringly: 
 
 '*0n that arm you are crushing so painfully I 
 have a platinum watch set with diamonds. Take it, 
 but please let me be free." 
 
 The other man approached and unlocked the 
 platinum bracelet, but Vera was not released. Then 
 she was obsessed with raging fury. With her free 
 hand she pinched and scratched the visage of her 
 torturer. Her sharp teeth sank into his thick 
 shoulder. In a wild outburst, she screamed; 
 
 46 
 
^'Murder! Rape! Robbery! help! Help! 
 Mother! Father!^' 
 
 But none heard her. None could help her. The 
 enraged brute, intoxicated by feminine proximity 
 and distressed by the sharp pain in his face and 
 shoulders, finally in a blind madness began to rend 
 her clothes to pieces, and at her first least struggle 
 he struck her mercilessly with his clenched fists. 
 The brute! — ._ 
 
 Footsteps approached the hall door. A clumsy 
 clatter of keys, and the old Dr. Goremikin 
 entered the ante-room. A press on the electric but- 
 ton, and there was light. To the left stood Vera^s 
 door ajar. But within was darkness and the phy- 
 sician paid no attention. He hurried through the 
 long corridor to his wife's chamber. But surprise 
 spread over his features as he found the door firmly 
 locked. 
 
 *'Liza,'' he shouted, ''why did you lock yourself 
 in^'' 
 
 And a weak voice replied: 
 
 'Oh, Leo, open the door from your side. Come in 
 quickly. Where is Vera?" 
 
 The old doctor saw quickly that the key was 
 inserted from the outer side. He turned it and in 
 an instant he was beside his wife. 
 
 "What did you say about Vera?" he cried in 
 terror. "Where is she?" 
 
 The old mother stammered in confusion. 
 
 "Two men were here — from the Committee on 
 Poverty — Vera was with them. Run to her room." 
 
 "But Verotchka's room is dark!" exclaimed her 
 husband. 
 
 47 
 
**Dark?'' echoed the mother insanely. In her 
 nightrobe she sprang bare-footed to the floor and 
 with a desperate effort she ran through the corridor, 
 followed by her aged husband. Her motherly in- 
 stinct forebode evil of what she would find in her 
 daughter's room and she strained madly to be first 
 there. And as soon as she lighted the chamber, all 
 was clear to her. 
 
 Vera was prone in unconsciousness. Her splen- 
 did rosy figure, erstwhile so saintly in its purity, was 
 now violently besmirched. Cpvered with bruises 
 and blood-stains, she lay motionless on her bed, de- 
 flowered. 
 
 Her two assailants, sated and with pockets 
 snugly filled, had long absconded. In the room now 
 reigned an ominous stillness. The air was filled with 
 a heavy breathing and perspiration, but not a sound 
 floated in from anywhere. Even the girPs alarm 
 clock had been carried away with the other trinkets. 
 
 Most remarkable of all, the poor mother did 
 not lose her presence of mind. She hastily closed 
 the door. 
 
 **Wait, wait a while!" she cried to her husband, 
 while she carefully spread a cover over the deflora- 
 tion of her daughter. Only when she had gathered 
 up the tattered remains of Vera's apparel from the 
 floor, and had thrust them under the couch, did she 
 admit the distracted father into the scene of the 
 tragedy. 
 
 Dr. Groremikin was a veteran practitioner. 
 His eyes had seen many happenings in the course 
 of his lifetime, especially during the last few years 
 
 48 
 
of Russia's ruin. With drooping head he advanced 
 toward his only daughter and felt her pulse. His 
 face was expressionless. When finally he placed 
 his ear to the girl's breast, he pronounced to his wife: 
 **She still lives." But no sign of joy was vis- 
 ible in his rigid countenance. He merely added a 
 further instruction, *'See that Boris knows nothing. 
 This would kill him entirely. An accident at school 
 —that's all." 
 
 ^9 
 
SCHOOLS AND TEACHERS. 
 
 Things are going very badly with professional 
 people in Russia. The plight of the public school 
 teachers is sad indeed, and the situation in regard to 
 the schools is very curious. I know a great deal 
 about this at first hand because two of my wife's 
 sisters are teachers and I have friends who are 
 teachers, some of the teachers who were killed on the 
 day when the Constituent Assembly was called were 
 women whom I knew. On that morning some teach- 
 ers went on the Petrograd streets with banners ap- 
 plauding the Constituent Assembly, and they were 
 shot at from the roofs and forty were killed. 
 
 The schools are suffering because they have no 
 paper, no ink, none of the materials needed — most 
 of all, no books. The lack cf books is due to more 
 than one cause. When the Bolsheviki started to 
 change everything, they decided that they would 
 change the Russian alphabet and grammar and 
 make them easier. So they first took away three of 
 the thirty-six characters in the alphabet. Two of 
 those were useless enough, but the elimination of the 
 third one, the ''i,'' causes a good deal of confusion. 
 Then they made ** simplifications'' in the grammar 
 and spelling, and they made a rule that no one 
 should publish books written according to the old 
 ways. But they couldn't get books printed the new 
 way. All the teachers had was a sheet of paper with 
 the new Bolshevist grammar and spelling rules; so 
 everything was at a standstill. 
 
 50 
 
They decreed that all teachers should have a 
 two months' course in learning the new rules; but 
 then the teachers said, ''What about the children? 
 Shall we require them to use the new methods when 
 we haven't any books'" Then it was decided that 
 for the first year the children might use the old 
 grammar and spelling while they were trying to 
 learn the new, so now things are every which way, 
 as you can imagine. Otherwise I think the schools 
 would probably be better than they were under the 
 Czar. The public schools were very poor then. 
 
 The real plight of the teachers, however, is not 
 concerned with books, but v/ith food. A public 
 school teacher gets a salary of five thousand rubles 
 ($40-$50) a month and belongs to the second cate- 
 gory in the population. She works from nine in the 
 morning until three to five in the afternoon, and she 
 can't live on a quarter of a pound of bread and per- 
 haps a few potatoes. If a teacher is to be sufficiently 
 nourished to go on with her work, she must have 
 more food and it will cost her on an average of about 
 1,500 rubles a day. Many of these young women, too, 
 are trying to support their mothers or other relatives. 
 I know one very lovely young teacher, a member 
 of a family to which Lermontov, the poet, belonged, 
 who is trying to keep herself, her old mother, and 
 a sick sister alive on her scanty salary. In the 
 school where she is there were one hundred and ten 
 teachers last year; now there are sixty. And I think 
 most of those who are gone literally starved . to 
 death; the rest went on the streets. 
 
 A touch of irony in the teacher's situation lies 
 in the fact that the Bolsheviki do try to keep the 
 
 51 
 
school-children well fed, and that the teachers, who 
 are often literally starving themselves, must dole 
 out food to the children each day! 
 
 But the instruction of about an hundred pupils 
 in the unheated class-rooms does not entirely satis 
 fy the greedy Soviet employer; further and still hea- 
 vier tasks are forced upon the famished teacher. 
 Home work. 
 
 You all have undoubtedly heard about 
 COMPULSORY LABOR. But its sinister meaning 
 can be clear only to an eye-witness. Imagine your 
 wives or your daughters, after a hard day's work at 
 the office, shops, factory or school, to begin in the 
 evenings in a half-starving state, another couple 
 hours of still harder toil. . This is the case, to a much 
 greater degree, with the Russian school-dame. 
 
 The Bolshevik municipality tries to keep her 
 cities, gardens and barracks more or less clean, but 
 is loath to hire special people for this purpose. 
 Therefore you can often see the bent backs of the 
 aged men (the young are all driven to the fighting 
 lines), mingled with the frail, emaciated figures of 
 young women, engaged in sweeping the streets, 
 shoveling snow from the sidewalks or washing the 
 filthy floors of the stenching barracks under the 
 rigid supervision of red brutes. 
 
 One winter evening, when I called on my friend, 
 a young school teacher, I found her on the street, in 
 company of a number of other gentlewomen, shovel 
 in hand, bent upon the task of heaping masses of ac- 
 cumulated snow into one huge pile, while a red guard 
 giant, with a cigarette in his mouth, cried out his rig- 
 orous orders: 
 
 52 
 
*' Lively there, lively, you cursed bourgeoise! 
 Been idle enough — now work!" And the weak wo- 
 men kept on working, not daring to lift even their 
 heads for a moment. The frost was nipping faces 
 pitilessly, paralyzing hands and feet. One could 
 have seen how the last atoms of strength was de- 
 parting from these women. They could not even 
 stand erect. But the red foreman went on shout- 
 ing: '* Hurry up! Quicker now!" 
 
 I ran to my friend and wrenched the shovel from 
 her numbed grasp. *'No, no!" she protested, upturn- 
 ing a wearied face on which tears and perspiration 
 had frozen bead-like. ''My time is yet not due," and 
 with these words she fell prone upon the snow. She 
 was still conscious but completely exhausted. The 
 two hours of exposure in the penetrating frost and 
 the untold days of hunger had exhausted her entire 
 strength. I had to lift her in my arms and to carry 
 her to her apartment. 
 
 53 
 
UNIVERSITIES AND TECHNICAL 
 INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 If the conditions in Russian elementary and 
 secondary schools are peculiar, those of the univer- 
 sities and technical institutions are even stranger. 
 In the first place, most of the colleges and higher 
 technical schools are closed. The two surviving in- 
 stitutions in Petrograd and Moscow are merely half 
 functioning and have become — I know not what. 
 
 It must not be forgotten that in former years 
 the Russian schools of higher learning were of pre- 
 mier rank. It was more difficult for one to enter a 
 Russian university or technical school than presum- 
 ably for a Bolshevik to gain access to the heavenly 
 kingdom. The privilege of university study was 
 possessed only by certain classes, and this only after 
 a certain degree of maturity had been attained as 
 the result of an eight-year course in the ** gymnas- 
 ium,'' or high school. Eligible entrants were ordi- 
 narily Russian in a restricted sense; as the Jews, 
 for instance, could qualify for entrance only if gold 
 I medal winners in the aforementioned courses, and 
 
 the number of even these medalists was restricted 
 to one or two per cent. Thus was the sanctum sanc- 
 torum, the Russian university, almost impregnable. 
 Indeed, during the last few years before the war, 
 when Casso was Minister of Education, Jews were 
 entirely prohibited from the benefits of higher learn- 
 ing. But credit must indeed be given to the Russian 
 university; its students were the most truly cultured 
 in the world. 
 
 54 
 
 I 
 
When Czardom tottered and its Ministers were 
 placed behind the bars of the Peter and Paul For- 
 tress, the new Provisional Government made its 
 natural step; it put aside all barriers and opened the 
 universities to all qualified candidates, Christians 
 or dissenters. Of course the ten existing Russian uni- 
 versities were immediately crowded to the point of 
 congestion and it v/as found necessary to found new 
 universities in different parts of the vast country. 
 The masses, hungry for knowledge, enjoyed their 
 full. 
 
 The Bolsheviks, usurping power, found this 
 condition not sufficiently to their liking. They de- 
 sired to *'proletariatize" the Russian school of 
 higher learning., Lunatcharsky, the Soviet Minis- 
 ter of Education, decreed that the eight-year curri- 
 culum of the secondary school be annulled. Exami- 
 nations^ requirements, etc., were all nil. Even acad- 
 emic credit for examinations previously passed was 
 robbed of recognition. The new class of ''stu- 
 dents,'* often unable to write or read a line fairly 
 accurately^ was given the same rights as were ac- 
 corded the really educated student of former days. 
 The Russian world of scholarship, as of politics, be- 
 came quickly infested with released jailbirds and 
 deserters anxious to exchange their gray prison caps 
 for blue students' hats. In a short time the genuine 
 student found himself in an embarrassed position, 
 for the newcomer abused him as one of lofty noble 
 caste, and the former was even forced to abandon 
 the walks of his beloved Alma Mater, whose shelter 
 he had won only after arduous trials. 
 
The professors at first protested, but Lenine 
 replied to them curtly; if they would desert their 
 chairs, they would be classed as sabotagers, in which 
 event their salaries and food tickets would be with- 
 held. If, however, the professors would yield to 
 Lenine 's programme, they would be placed in the 
 '* first category' ' and their salaries made the highest 
 in the land. 
 
 What could the poor pedants do? Naturally, 
 they yielded. 
 
 Imagine now the conditions existent in the re- 
 vered Russian university. 
 
 56 
 
HUNGER MIGRATION. 
 
 When bread became so scarce in the central pro- 
 dnces that even the peasants could not obtain it at 
 any price, however exorbitant the eyes of the masses 
 turned to the Ukraine and Siberia for relief. 
 
 These fertile provinces had always fed central 
 Russia in time of need. But since Kerensky^s regime 
 these had been declared * 'independent sovereign- 
 ties.'' Access to them has become impossible. The 
 All-Russian railway system has collapsed. Passen- 
 ger service ?s nil save for Delegates — trains of two 
 or three first-class carriages reserved for Bolshevik 
 'representatives." Often cattle trains can be seen 
 containing confiscated horses, cows, etc. And in 
 this last mode of c nveyance the peasants have man- 
 aged their long journey to the distant fertile pro- 
 vinces in quest of bread. 
 
 The travel to the Ukraine, say from Moscow, 
 normally eighteen to twenty hours in duration, now 
 occupies five or six weeks. But when one has enough 
 courage, patience and some money one can overcome 
 this obstacle. Partly by cattle train, partly by wagon 
 mostly on foot, one can ultimately scrape one's way 
 to the outer provinces of plenty, to the God-blessed 
 Ukraine, where bread and potatoes are plentiful and 
 where they can be sold by the peasant owner to 
 whomever and for whatever he pleases. 
 
 Lenine's agents gradually detected this secret 
 hunger migration. Warning was immediately sent 
 broadcast that returning ''passengers" found in 
 cattle trains with contraband food in possession 
 would have it confiscated. A vigilant border inspec- 
 tion ensued. Peasants driven beyond the border for 
 
 57 
 
bread and anxious to return to their hungry families 
 on the precious soviet soil met these Bolshevik 
 guards with vehement opposition. The feud waxed 
 in terror. Armed caravansaries of peasants, sev- 
 eral hundred strong, set out in armed defiance. 
 Finally a vast avalanche of bread slaughter swept 
 over Russia, until the communistic authorities saw 
 the futility of it all and compromised by allowing a 
 bi-weekly passage to every citizen supplied with 
 about forty pounds of grain. The bread feuds some- 
 what abated. 
 
 But worse calamity has arisen. The agricul- 
 tural populations of Siberia and the Ukraine had 
 formerly been greatly dependent on the factories of 
 central Russia for clothing and shoes. Now this sup- 
 ply of manufactured commodities had ceased. Mean- 
 while their own supply of food was being depleted 
 by the Germans, their new protectors. So they be- 
 gan voicing a genuine demand for these manufac- 
 tured articles, finally decreeing that no foodstuffs 
 were to be allowed into central Russia unless accom- 
 panied with an exchange of linen, leather, etc. But 
 where could the poor Russian peasants obtain these 
 finished commodities? Whatever was in sight had 
 already been confiscated by the Bolsheviks. 
 
 Helpless, defrauded peasants, deluded ^'benefi- 
 ciaries^' of the Revolution, ground like their own 
 chaff between the mill-stones of the gods! Is it any 
 wonder they start to cry out in despair for their 
 Czar of old, who, though a despot, protected them 
 from robbery and murder? 
 
 58 
 
 I 
 
THE PLIGHT OF ARISTOCRACY. 
 
 Before the markets in the big cities were closed 
 (they were closed in Nov. 1918.) the sight was com- 
 mon of an aristocratic lady, vestments in hand, 
 abused by a rough soldier for demanding a high price 
 for her wares. Since November 1 such scenes have 
 deteriorated to worse. 
 
 As is well known, most of the aristocracy in 
 Russia were in the military service. The first as- 
 sault of the Bolsheviki was thereore on the ''mili- 
 tary caste.'' 
 
 The plight of the dependents of this class, be- 
 reft of defenders and fortune, is beyond conception. 
 They cannot even sell papers. Suicides have been 
 common; hunger deaths even more common. Some 
 have gone upon the streets. Often can be seen the 
 frail, refined figure of a former noblewoman wend- 
 ing her way along the Nevsky Prospect in the midst 
 of rain and cold in the pursuit of bread for her chil- 
 dren. 
 
 . I was accosted by one such figure and recalled 
 the voice; it was the well-known baroness whose 
 hospitable Fridays were long ago known all over 
 Russia; indeed, she was a close friend of the Imper- 
 ial household, and her husband died among the first 
 days of the war on the battelfield with Archduke 
 Oleg Konstantinovitch. She saw that I recognized 
 her, and the moment was painful. 
 
 59 
 
WHAT CAN BE DONE FOR RUSSIA. 
 
 Whenever I happen to talk on Bolshevism, I am 
 confronted by the question: ''Ought the world to 
 interfere in Russian internal affairs? A problematic 
 query, I admit. But having the knowledge of the 
 Russian situation even from Bolshevist point of view 
 I could answer without hesitation. It ought not, 
 but it must. For the Russian tragely is interna- 
 tional. It is the epidemic of the world. Yes, interven- 
 tion must come and come immediately. For it is most 
 dangerous when the enemy becomes confident of his 
 forces. And the Bolsheviki are more than confident, 
 they are certain of their victory. It also must not 
 be forgotten that the Soviets have gathered most 
 wonderfully in the past three years an army of over 
 three million men, an army which is young, power- 
 ful and enthusiastic. These are fanatics who have 
 no concern for their personal lives, regarding death 
 merely a sacrifice for the sake of humanity. From 
 this we can see that the terrible, brutal and imprac- 
 tical Bolshevism, is transformed by these fanatics 
 into a new religion. A creed for the International 
 Proletariate. — 
 
 We know how harmful is such religious belief, 
 but the half developed workingman who has more 
 faith than knowledge, does not know. He believes. 
 And in this lies the greatest danger; for faith and 
 
 60 
 
fanaticism gc, in such cases, hand in hand. In short, 
 Bolshevism is a religious sect whose chief prophets 
 are Lenine and Trotzky, and whose principal ideal 
 as we have already seen, is Destruction. 
 
 Like all sectarian movements, Bolshevism is 
 quite infectious. With gigantic steps it is striding 
 the world. Today there is no country but shelters 
 a nest of this sickly sect. And this is only after two 
 years of its existence in the Far North. 
 
 But most surprising is the fact of the world's 
 indifference to this danger. One could often hear: 
 **That what is happening in Russia can never hap- 
 pen here.'' It might sound ridiculous were it not so 
 tragic. Fcr this naive self-assurance was the very 
 cause that brought the Allies to the present shame- 
 ful negotiations with the Lenine-Trotzky govern- 
 ment. The Bolshevik danger was already so evident 
 that the Entente could not help seeing it. 
 
 Ohj if only the eyes of the Nations were open at 
 least one year ago as wide as they are open now. They 
 would not have to feel so desperate and forlorn as 
 they now feel. The world would perhaps by now 
 have settled in peace, instead of partaking in one of 
 the fiercest battles ever fought by brother against 
 brother. The lives of millions might have been 
 spared, countless cities, towns and villages would 
 remain undestroyed, billions of dollars not ex- 
 changed into valueless paper, destructive powder 
 and bulletS; and the deeds of Cain considerably di- 
 minished. For, despite the slight differences in their 
 religious traditions, Russia and Poland are children 
 of one mother — Slavia, who speak nearly the same 
 language, have many like customs and breathe the 
 
T 
 
 very same air. And to think that merely one hun- 
 dred thousand men sent in time, could have not only 
 prevented this bloody struggle but possibly brought 
 an end to the entire Bolshevik movement. But. this 
 had to be done a year ago. Now, there is no time for 
 such means. The opportunity is lost. For while 
 the Allies were busy in creating various optimistic 
 dreams,, the Bolshevik Menace kept on advancing. 
 It did its work slowly but surely. But altho the sit- 
 uation is very acute it is yet not fatal. One remedy 
 is still left. This is the final lifting of the preposter- 
 ous blockade at any cost. 
 
 For as long as the Bolsheviki are left isolated 
 from the entire world and there is none to call a halt 
 to their atrocities, they will continue to wreck their 
 lust upon the helpless Russian people, until there 
 will remain none but Bolsheviki. 
 
 The unprotected Russians will be left the choice 
 either to join the Bolshevik ranks or to die. 
 
 But with the blockade lifted, and a window 
 opened to the world at wide, a new stream of hope 
 must fill the exhausted Russian souls. Then, with 
 the kindly help of the Allied nations, Russia may 
 probably shake off the heavy burden of her hateful 
 oppressors. For you must not forget that Russia 
 is a nation of almost two hundred millions! and the 
 Bolsheviki, disregarding their boasting of being in 
 the majority, are a mere minority of scarcely one- 
 fifth, most of whom are even not Russians. 
 
 But Russia is starving. And a starving body 
 can by no means keep up a living spirit. Therefore 
 the first step necessary — is to bring in enough food 
 to revive the emaciated bodies of the Russian popu- 
 
 62 
 
lation. And as there are no other means at pres 
 ent to treat with Russia than through the recogni- 
 tion of the Bolsheviki, well then we must recognize 
 them TEMPORARILY. But immediately. And 
 the rest — the rest we can leave to the Russians 
 themselves. When the exhausted body of the na- 
 tion will be strengthened by food, the great Russian 
 spirit will surely recover its wonted vigor — then woe 
 to the intruders. For Bolshevism — as Lenine him- 
 self had admitted, has been derived from hunger and 
 it can thrive only in the shadow of Starvation. Re- 
 move hunger and Bolshevism must perish in a nat- 
 ural way. Under normal conditions there can be no 
 ground for this social parasite. 
 
 There is also nothing to fear for the progress of 
 Bolshevism when through recognition of the Soviet 
 Government, its real features will be exposed to the 
 open world. Bolshevism attracts the masses only 
 because it remains a mystery, because Lenine ^s 
 agents are depicting it before their unenlightened 
 audiences in heavenly colors. 
 
 But when Bolshevism will be brought home to 
 foreign workers in the very same form as it has been 
 brought home to the Russian population — with all 
 its brutal and selfish details — then the masses will 
 realize that they were deluded, as the Russian multi- 
 tude is now realizing it, then together with their com- 
 rades of the north they will try to forsake the very 
 thought of this sham-ideal BOLSHEVISM. 
 
 63 
 
THE BLOCKADE. 
 
 For over three years more than a hundred million 
 Russian souls are weltering in blood and famine be- 
 hind the gory barrier of the Bolsheviki. Their 
 agonized appeal: ''Lift the blockade!'' was heard 
 all over the world. The death cry of millions of 
 women and children, the cry for bread and clothing, 
 reached many ears of the allied chiefs, but they pre- 
 tended not to hear it. And no relief came. 
 
 There were many good spokesmen outside the 
 red walls of Bolshevik Russia. In a thousand differ- 
 ent ways they expressed the very same idea: ''Rus- 
 sia can be saved only through the lifting of this in- 
 human blockade.*' But the Russian champions 
 abroad succeeded no more than the Russians them- 
 selves within their seclusion. 
 
 There was one semi-sane voice among the entire 
 herd of blockaders, and this was Lloyd-G-eorge's. 
 His practical eye foresaw the sad outcome of this 
 blockading system. He even predicted openly that 
 if the Lenine party be left uncontrolled behind the 
 barriers of the blockade the Bolsheviki will gain 
 their victory. And as we can see, the British Pre- 
 mier was right. But. . . .but France was then "in 
 fashion", and whatever France's leader, the ex- 
 anarchist Clemenceau, said was a law to everybody. 
 Only now, when the infatuation with this "hero" is 
 over, and when the victory of the Bolshevik forces 
 
is no more doubtful, the entente decided to start 
 negotiations with the Bolsheviki. But to what end 
 will the present treaties bring, will be seen when 
 we'll cast a further glance behind the red barrier. 
 
 First of all, how do the Bolsheviki accumulate 
 so much strength that it enables them not only to 
 proceed in their own Cain job, but also to lend their 
 destructive power to millions of their associates all 
 over the world? The upheavals in Germany and 
 Austro-Hungary, the revolts in England, France, 
 Italy and even America's own steel, harbor and rail- 
 road strikes have long ceased to be economic as pre- 
 tended, but are of a strict political, or rather, Bolshe- 
 vistic character. 
 
 The wholesale arrests of radicals which has 
 taken place within the first part of this year have 
 fairly unmasked the real features of these mutinies. 
 There can be no doubt whatsoever that the hot, pois- 
 onous breath of the Russian red monster has already 
 infected the pure air of our republic. And the pro- 
 gressive victory of the Russian Reds over the allied 
 forces on all fronts had shown that the Bolshevik 
 power is growing, not daily, but hourly. 
 
 NoW; where lies the source of their power? Who 
 helps them to gain their brutal victories? I know 
 it will appear incredible to you when I'll tell you^ 
 the allies. Yes, the allies with their dreadful block- 
 ading system. 
 
 This can be easily verified by showing some il- 
 luminating facts, which I have witnessed in my so- 
 journ under the rule of the Bolsheviki. I have 
 watched the birth and growth of their main sup- 
 port — the Red Army. I have seen hundreds of my 
 
 65 
 
friends and acquaintances, loyal and devoted consti- 
 tutionalists and even monarchists, joining the ranks 
 of the Bclsheviki. Their views had not been altered 
 a whit; as they were, so they remained — loyal to 
 their old creeds and traditions. But the Bolshevik 
 melting pot spared no personal opinion in its terrific 
 fusion, for having no ideal depth of their own, how 
 could it accommodate the profound, pure alloy of 
 others? The Bolsheviki were possessed of one pur- 
 pose — to found an army of three millions. 
 
 To achieve this goal they employ a simple, but 
 most eifective, method. If they know that in this 
 or that house dwell one or more men capable of ser- 
 vice in the Red Army they order the House Com- 
 mittee to inform these men that they shall present 
 themselves immediately at certain mobilization 
 quarters. If the person summoned is anti-Bolshe- 
 vist in sentiment, which is often the case, and fails 
 to appear, none seems to notice the fact. But when 
 his family or himself comes for the monthly meal 
 card, the secretary of the House Committee de- 
 mands the recruiting card in exchange. No card, no 
 food for the entire family! Naturally the alterna- 
 tive is either starvation or recruitment. And the 
 Red army increases from month to month, and the 
 Bolshevist state of affairs proceeds truly on greased 
 wheels. 
 
 But the gigantic growth of the Red Army must 
 be attributed to the kindly efforts of the allied en- 
 tente. . Yes, indeed, England, France, and also 
 America are participating actively in this good 
 work. This is the conviction of scores of millions 
 of Russian inhabitants, including the entire Bol- 
 
 66 
 
shevik military staff, scattered everywhere. This 
 horrible blockade which is strangling the throats of 
 millions of Russian children and women, is the chief 
 impetus for the rise of the manifold Soviet forces. 
 
 This * 'economic blockade'^ has proved to be a 
 success — for Bolshevism. Those who sought thereby 
 to effect an end to the Red regime have found them- 
 selves in error. Their attempt has only attested 
 their utter ignorance of conditions as existent in 
 present-day Russia. For if they were better versed 
 in the Bolshevik slogan, *' Bolshevism at any price!'' 
 they would not so easily have yielded this terrible 
 weapon — starvation — into the active hand of the 
 Soviet champions. 
 
 Possibly the allied entente was forgetful of the 
 fact that those calling themselves Bolsheviki and 
 really constituting as I said but a sixth or the high- 
 est — one-fifth of the population of 100,000,000 souls 
 in central Russia, were little effected by the grim 
 results of the blockade. This minority has monopo- 
 lized all necessities of life. 
 
 Disregarding all else, Russia, it must be ad- 
 mitted, is an agricultural country of great wealth. 
 These Bolsheviki, now holding the upper hand, are 
 constantly confiscating all commodities of primal 
 necessity for their own barns and warehouses. By 
 means of these reserves they maintain their army 
 and other adherents. To the populace they misrely 
 dictate: **You are against us — die!*' 
 
 In this solitary respect, the Russian multitude 
 is most obedient — especially the little children and 
 the frail women; they die! They die by the thou- 
 sands day after day. And those men who do not 
 
 67 
 
yet wish to die can face no other recourse than to 
 join the Red army. And therein lies the secret for 
 the rapid expanse of the Bolshevist fighting forces. 
 At the begininng of 1918 the Bolsheviki could muster 
 a mere handful of tattered vagabonds; and now they 
 may boast of a standing army of about three mil- 
 lions. 
 
 Did the Bolsheviki create this army? No, with- 
 out the kindly aid of the allies they never could have 
 accomplished this feat. It is due to the wonderful 
 achievement of the blockade! Or, to say better, of 
 the intolerable hunger resulting from the blockade. 
 And the Soviet authorities understand this quite 
 well, and in the depths of their egotistic souls they 
 scoff at the short-sighted blockaders. Perhaps, too, 
 they thank them. 
 
 No power in the world can so enslave human 
 nature as hunger. In the international army of crim- 
 inals, it may be claimed that the vast majority of 
 them were first driven to their illicit pursuit — espe 
 cially to thievery — by the pang of starvation. Often 
 these unfortunates robbed for themselves — oftimes 
 for their intimates, for their children, parents, 
 little brothers and sisters. The same is with regard 
 to the Red army. Witnessing every day how their 
 dearest one — ^wife or child — falls in the street like 
 crumbless flies cr insects; knowing full well that 
 there is no other source of life anywhere in Russia; 
 feeling their own strength gradually ebbing away, 
 the men in everyday Russia can face no other path 
 out of their dilemma but to lvow allegiance to the 
 ranks of the Red freebooters. . For, as soon as they 
 
 68 
 
are in a position to display their respective recruit- 
 ing cards, they are sure that the wolf is kept at a 
 safe distance from their homes, and their dearest 
 ones are spared the tragic end of starvation. And 
 the Red soldier himself? He risked nothing but his 
 own life. And even this chance was slight, for there 
 were possibilities of survival. In his former state 
 he enjoyed little chance for safety altogether; for 
 hunger played its cards slowly but surely. And no 
 matter hov/ reluctant the thought, how prolonged 
 the hesitation, the hungry father and husband inev- 
 itably followed the path directly to the recruiting 
 center. The hottest fiend of Bolshevism is thus 
 pressed into the horde of Bolshevik enthusiasts by 
 the devastating effect of the blockade, and in the 
 depths of his famished soul he cries with the rest 
 of them, '^Long J'^e our bread-givers!^* Indeed, a 
 nation lives on its stomach. 
 
 Now if this inhuman blockade were lifted; if 
 food were admitted into the land, at least to the ex- 
 tent allowed to Germany; if the Russian populace 
 were not forced to turn for food, for a crumb of 
 bread, a piece of herring, a can of this or that, solely 
 to the hand of the Bolsheviki; if the Russian subject 
 were impressed with the unwillingness of the outer 
 world to let his wife, child, old mother, or sweet 
 heart to perish for the lack of a bit of bread, would 
 they throng to the malodorous barracks to risk their 
 lives for the sake of Bolshe\ism? I say: No! 
 
 69 
 
WHAT N. LENINE THINKS ABOUT IT 
 
 But even more convinced was I in this theory 
 when I happened to hear almost this same opinion 
 from the lips of the Prince of Paupers, Nicholai Le- 
 nine. It was in October, 1918, when after a mid 
 night raid when I was bereft by a score of Bolshevist 
 officials, of everything I possessed, that I was hon- 
 ored to be presented, before the eyes of his proletar- 
 ian majesty and had a long conference with him. 
 
 Through the agencies of one of my wife's ac- 
 quaintances, namely, through the commandant of 
 the Kremlin, the ex- journalist, Bontche-Bruievich, 
 I was enabled to approach with no slight difficulty, 
 the imposing audience chamber of the proletarian 
 dictator. It v/as on a Thursday, as I remember, 
 about eleven in the morning. The Bolshevik pre 
 mier was enthroned in one of the royal chambers of 
 the Russian czars of the middle ages, in the same 
 room where his predecessor, Ivan the Terrible, had 
 issued ukases similar to those of Lenine, the Red. He 
 was seated at a large council table bedecked with a 
 gory covering. (This table was a novelty; in my pre- 
 revolutionary visits to the Kremlin I had never seen 
 this piece of furniture). On that table were strewn 
 pamphlets and newspapers in various languages. 
 
 In accordance with diplomatic usage I ad- 
 dressed myself to Lenine in French, the language in 
 which I had written my letter requesting the audi- 
 ence. Lenine responded in fluent English to the 
 
 70 
 
eifect, if I so desired, I could employ my native 
 tongue. I was astonished at the proletarian ruler's 
 mastery of the English language. His vocabulary 
 was that of a scholar; in fact, quite pedantic in 
 choice of phrases. And the diction was perfect; a 
 faint trace of foreign accent being noticeable now 
 and then, when Lenine became excited. The Arch- 
 Bolshevik watched every movement I made with 
 marked suspicion; although he must have known 
 the scrupulous examinations to which his visitors 
 are subjected prior to admission into his presence. 
 Apparently the wound inflicted by the woman-as- 
 sassin not long before had not yet been healed in 
 his memory. And Lenin p for this reason, fancied 
 an enemy in every face he met. 
 
 Because of several translations I was forced to 
 make for the Soviet, it seemed that the sound of my 
 name was not strange to the ears of Lenine. The dic- 
 tator hinted this himself in order to indicate his fa- 
 miliarity with every detail of official activity. It 
 was, therefore, in a tone of inf orm^ality that he turn 
 ed to me and commented: *'I thought very well of 
 your translation of the Hilquit-Untermeyer debate 
 on Socialism which you recently made for us. How 
 does it happen th-^t you have mastered our difficult 
 Russian tongue so easily?' ' 
 
 ** There ought to be little wonder in that fact, 
 sir,'' I rejoined, ''for I have been living in Russia 
 for nearly ten years. But what amazes me, indeed, 
 is that the proletarian premier has acquired such 
 fluent command of the intricate English! So far as 
 I am aware you have never lived in England or 
 America." 
 
 71 
 
1 
 
 This compliment evidently appealed to Lenine. 
 But seemingly unwilling to prolong the conversa- 
 tion on this subject, he turned abruptly: ''I spent a 
 
 short time in England but in what way can I be 
 
 of service to you, comrade?*' 
 
 His transition was so sudden that I was for a 
 moment at a loss. But the purpose of my errand 
 immediately rushed to my tongue and I began: 
 
 '*I-er wish to acquaint you, sir, with the facts of 
 a case that ought to interest you, although it touch- 
 es upon a matter chiefly of personal interest.'* 
 
 ''Tell it. I hear you,'* the dictator remarked. 
 
 I set forth in a few words the incidents connect- 
 ed with the raid committed upon my quarters, elab- 
 orating on the essential details and mentioning the 
 approximate value of the objects confiscated. In 
 finale, I sought Lenine 's opinion on the issue as to 
 whether a citizen of a friendly nation — and one 
 moreover, entitled to diplomatic immunity — ^was 
 not considered to be free from the yoke of national 
 confiscation. 
 
 Lenine, listening attentively, rested his head 
 upon his arm and knitted his brows in cogitation. 
 
 I availed of the moment to study the features 
 of the premier. This was not my first opportunity 
 to view the personality of Nicholai Lenine. Ten 
 years before, in my university course at Geneva, I 
 had heard Lenine, then a slightly popular emigrant, 
 holding an pformal lecture on socialism. Long 
 thereafter, in the day of Kerensky, I saw this same 
 figure posed on the balcony of the ballet dancer — 
 Kshesinsky's palace in Petrograd. I also read a few 
 
 72 
 
monographs by Lenine on political economy. But 
 for the first time I was that day in the immediate 
 vicinity of this historic figure. 
 
 I was, naturally, curious to analyze the type of 
 genius inherent in that spirit which could upturn 
 half of the world in a few months. Surely, such a 
 leader must have that divine fire capable of kindling 
 the hearts of men to lofty aspirations. How could 
 it be otherwise? But my effort was in vain. No 
 sign of the superman was visible. One of the ordi- 
 nary Russian countenances, with ordinary manners 
 of the Russian student, unable to dispose his hands 
 and feet conveniently. The eyes, which are usually 
 mirrors of human understanding — Lenine ^s Tartar 
 sight reflected no heavenly vision. In contrary, they 
 betrayed a sluggishness, dull and abnormal — per- 
 haps a trace of degeneration. This suspicion was 
 borne out by the pointedness of his forehead. Occa- 
 sionally, when a bright thought sped through his 
 mind, his eyes seemed to flicker in keen enthusi- 
 asm, but even then the gleam was eloquent of fanati- 
 csim rather than of inspired genius. 
 
 Lenine did not long ponder over my problem. 
 His visage quickly assumed the quasi-oflicial ex- 
 pression of the democratic leader and without the 
 least hesitation he declared his verdict: **I am not 
 in entire accord with the various steps taken by the 
 different Soviets, but I have no authority to hinder 
 their action. Your case is exceptional, I admit; but 
 that it is 'unjust,' as you claim, I cannot see. You 
 just expressed yourself that your government has 
 not openly declared war against us — h*mph, that is 
 
 73 
 
not exactly so. The prisoners in American uniform 
 we have taken on the Murman coast seem to contra- 
 dict your view. I trust that you, personally, who 
 have seen the Czar's despotism, Kerensky's help- 
 lessness, and our constructive efforts — you look up- 
 on us with eyes different from those of the unin- 
 formed foreigner. I must sum up in this wise: In 
 the eyes of the Soviet you are merely a rich citizen 
 of a hostile nation. In that case, how can you ex- 
 pect better treatment than that accorded to our 
 own leading bourgeoise.^' 
 
 *' Unfortunately, Mr. Premier, I cannot agree 
 with you,*' I exclaimed. ^* Please do not overlook 
 the fact that in confiscating Russian wealth you 
 are confiscating property accumulated in this coun- 
 try. This may in your fashion explain the cause for 
 your * nationalization.* But when the Petrograd So 
 viet breaks into my house at midnight and rifles 
 the wealth I brought from my own country — you 
 are aware — I earned nothing in your country-then 
 I am compelled to view, in my simple democratic 
 way, this whole affair as a fine feat of midnight 
 burglary.'* 
 
 Lenine's face had been so vastly altered this 
 instant that I scarcely recognized it. A very slight 
 smile lighted his wearied, stern visage. He probably 
 discerned that I was grieved not so much at my ma- 
 terial loss, but of the ethics of the principles. Who 
 knows? At any rate, putting his hand on my arm, 
 he exclaimed: .''Perhaps you are right. I will do 
 what I can for you. But I promise nothing for cer- 
 tain. '* 
 
 74 
 
I have always considered Lenine as a serious 
 character. Having descended from a noble ancestry 
 whose blood had flowed for Russian honor on battle- 
 fields and in revolutions for generations, it was 
 hardly possible for Vladimir Hitch Ulianoff — Nico- 
 lai Lenine — to be reckoned a traitor to his father 
 land. If he were a tool of the Prussian junkers, I 
 was convinced that Lenine had filled this role un- 
 consciously. Being an inveterate 'enemy of the 
 scepter and crown, it was hardly credible that he 
 could ally himself with such obnoxious imperialists 
 as the German general staff. Yet Lenine was only 
 one; and one swallow, as the saying goes, never 
 brings a summer. 
 
 I was certain that the Bolshevik uprising had 
 been fostered by Teuton interests. For immediately 
 after the October revolution Lenine himself had 
 avowed in the official Soviet organ that since the 
 beginning of Kerensky^s regime, he had been fi- 
 nanced by German Socialists through the medium 
 of Karl Liebknecht. I have reflected that these 
 finances might have sprung originally from the im- 
 perial treasury, but I was almost impelled to doubt 
 that this Bolshevik dreamer could be aware of this 
 iniquitous source. Trotsky, Zinovieff, Joffe and oth- 
 ers were certainly subsidized by the Kaiser, but 
 surely, not Lenine! I recollected Trotsky's boasting 
 at the Smolny Institute that he would let no such 
 question as ''Whence cometh the money'' obstruct 
 the path of the great humanitarian ideal of freeing 
 the enslaved. 
 
 This cynical speech had shown the true char 
 acter of the Bolshevik leaders, that is, of all save 
 
 75 
 
Lenine. He is indeed the moral mentor of Bolshev- 
 ism. He clarified the point that such revolution as 
 Russia's could never transpire by means of money, 
 but solely through lofty principles. And he ex- 
 pressed this conviction with such sincerity that I 
 was forced to conclude that though Lenine might be 
 a fanatic he was truly no knave. 
 
 Our talk had centered on money. A few 
 months previously the Czecho- Slovaks had captured 
 Kazan with the entire Russian gold reserves. I sug- 
 gested to Lenine the possible effects of this tremen- 
 dous loss. 
 
 ^'Only the best effects will result for us/' he 
 stated vigorously. ''Money has no value for us. Our 
 chief purpose is to destroy the very basis of the cap- 
 italistic system. The only sad feature is that this 
 money had fallen into the hands of our enemies 
 whom it might strengthen temporarily. But we do 
 not fear them. Their future is dismal. They are 
 worthy followers of Kerensky — ^without spirit or 
 principle. Kerensky had everything and we de- 
 feated him. They have almost nothing — and what 
 can they do to us? Open a morning paper and you 
 will read that every day their troops are deserting 
 to our ranks in full squadrons. What, think you, is 
 doing this? Money? No. Our high principles and 
 our constant propaganda of these principles within 
 their lines.'' 
 
 ''So may it be, I admitted, 'but this cannot 
 last forever; if your men are not dying from the 
 enemy's bullets they fall by the thousands from a 
 much stronger enemy — from the all-destructive hun- 
 ger/ 
 
 76 
 
Hunger!'' exclaimed the dictator with a 
 sudden laugh. 'Hunger is our truest associate; our 
 entire victory depends on hunger, and let me tell you 
 that our men are not suffering from hunger in the 
 least; there is no starvation in our army. Our fight- 
 ers are fairly well fed. Only those who do not sup- 
 port our ideals are condemned to starvation.' 
 
 Here for the first time I understood to what de- 
 gree the entente blockaders are playing into the 
 hands of the Bolsheviks. Lenine, apparently, 
 guessed my thought, and his tiny Tartar eyes reveal- 
 ed a hidden sneer. I was not much pleased with this 
 mocking expression of the dictator, and discreetly 
 returned to the previous topic. *If you are so op- 
 posed to money, why are your printing presses turn- 
 ing it out so intensively?' 
 
 Lenine replied without hesitation: ''Only to 
 make it absolutely worthless! We have already ar- 
 rived at that stage when you can buy nothing for 
 money. The peasant will sell you no bread or pota- 
 toes for money; he wants boots, clothing or tools in 
 exchange. If you want to eat — work. Sit down at 
 the weaving loom or at the cobbler's bench. If you 
 produce nothing — die! Our Bolshevik system has no 
 place for idlers!" 
 
 I felt myself doused as with a bucket of cold 
 water. This was frankness enough; aye brutal 
 frankness! And, indeed, the state to which the 
 country had been reduced had been accurately de- 
 picted by Lenine. I recalled an experience a few days 
 before when I tried to purchase a blanket in the 
 Alexandrovsky market. 
 
 77 
 
^ 
 
 '* ^How much do you want for your ware?' I 
 asked. 
 ** * Twenty pounds of bread!' the dealer replied. 
 
 ** 'Where can I get bread? How much money 
 do you want?' 
 
 '^ 'Money? What is it good for! Have no 
 bread? Give potatoes or grits.' 
 
 I dismissed this incident from my mind as mere- 
 ly a consequence of a prolonged and unfortunate war 
 and its preying effect upon the minds of the hungry. 
 But that this state of affairs could be the result of 
 direct official effort was until now scarcely within 
 my comprehension. A government ruining its own 
 currency! 
 
 But the large wall clock pointed accusingly to 
 the closing minute of the interview. I rose. At the 
 last moment a thought struck me which I considered 
 of possible interest to my government. 
 
 ''After you have destroyed your currency," I 
 askedj "how will you repay your obligations to 
 America, England and France? Of course, the pres- 
 ent regime intends to assume the debts inherited 
 from its predecessors. As jurist, you are aware 
 that the heir assumes both the assets and liabilities 
 included in his heritage." 
 
 Lenine, who had peviously risen from his chair, 
 now quickly resumed his sitting posture. In his 
 abrupt direct manner, he pronounced vigorously and 
 distinctly: 
 
 "We believe — or better, we are convinced — that 
 we shall not be obliged to repay these old debts. Not 
 because we will not want to, but because we will 
 not need to. Two years, at the longest— and the 
 
 78 
 
obsolete capitalistic system must vanish from the 
 surface of the earth. And our anti-capitalistic com- 
 rades, the future proletarian ruler of Europe and 
 America will, surely not seek to molest Russia — the 
 Mother of International Bolshevism — with the old 
 debts arranged among its late oppressors. If, how- 
 ever, my calculations delude me — which I hardly 
 think possible — then we will treat these obligations 
 in the natural way, through the channels of inter- 
 national trade. 
 
 '* Russia is rich!'^ prclaimed the fanatic econo- 
 mist. "Our super and subsurface resources are in- 
 exhaustible. If we shall have to pay, we will pay 
 with the produce of our rich mines and endless for 
 ests. But think not that we will be so stupid and so 
 ignorant as the czarists, who bestowed concessions 
 without reckon or thought! 0, no! Many of us have 
 specialized in agricultural and economic matters and 
 have a fair estimate of the correct appraisal of our 
 resources. Every vein and every tree will be under 
 the control of our national overseers. That we do 
 not consider the worth of money is by no means an 
 indication that we likewise consider our natural re- 
 sources of no value. We are no destroyers of Rus- 
 sia!'^ 
 
 With these words my audience with him came 
 to an end. Exactly forty-five minutes had been its 
 duration. 
 
 That Russia was indescribably rich I always 
 knew, but that the Bolsheviki were making a scien- 
 tific appraisal of her resources was certainly unex- 
 pected news. If I had only more time I would have 
 
 79 
 
asked how so scientific a veiw could be reconciled 
 with the terroristic overturn of industry. Naturally, 
 Lenine might have had his explanation for this, too. 
 
 What impressed me most since the interview 
 was the fact that Lenine was not at all so extrava- 
 gant with the Russian paper money as he implied. 
 On the contrary, he seemed to take good care of these 
 notes. For instance, the Russian ruble has at that 
 time depreciated more than ten times. Lenine has 
 ascertained this to exact valuation, and had adjust- 
 ed salaries accordingly — 10 copecks to the ruble. The 
 worker who once earned 50 — 60 Rs. per month now 
 receives 500 — 600 rubles. And this is not all. If one 
 member of a family is employed by the government 
 — there are no private employers any longer — no 
 other members of the family can work. If the head 
 of the family cannot sustain all then another mem- 
 ber may work, but the head receives a reduced wage. 
 This shows how economically they distribute even 
 their paper money. 
 
 Another interesting point is seen on departure 
 from Russia. In the first place none is generally per- 
 mitted to leave the country. But when one is, for- 
 tunately, for special reasons, allowed departure, 
 then he is allowed to take with him only 500 rubles. 
 From this we can see that the entire distribution 
 of paper money turned out by the presses in twenty- 
 four hours is strictly confined to Russia. 
 
 It reminds me of a reckless son of a multi-mil- 
 lionaire, hurling bank-notes taken from the father's 
 safe, through the open window of his house. This 
 money falls into his own garden, where his father's 
 
 80 
 
faithful servants pick it up and bring it back to the 
 safe. 
 
 This is the present state of Russia. Chaotic, up- 
 turned — but not entirely ruined. Sick, very sick, 
 but not yet dead. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 (PRINTED BY NKWS-POST, FREDERICK, MD.) 
 
 81 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Grermany's Role 1 
 
 Kerensky 6 
 
 Russia of Bygone Days 15 
 
 Russia, The Home of Modern Music, Letters and 
 
 Art 19 
 
 The Russia of Today 22 
 
 The Persecution of Foreigners 24 
 
 Categories 28 
 
 Soviets 31 
 
 A Week For the Poor 37 
 
 Vera's Case 39 
 
 Schools and Teachers 50 
 
 Universities and Technical Institutions 54 
 
 Hunger Migration 57 
 
 The Plight of Aristocracy 59 
 
 What Can Be Done For Russia 60 
 
 The Blockade 67 
 
 What N. Lenine Thinks About It 70 
 
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