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SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

 

 

The Memoirs of
BARON N. WRANGEu

Baron Wrangel’s memoirs have the swing, the audacity, and
the frankness of a piccaresque romance. From his earliest
childhood—he has many vivid stories of the days of the
serfs—to his death in 1920 he moved everywhere in the
social world, and knew everyone, emperors, generals,
diplomats and adventurers ; and saw with his
own eyes the amazing transition
of Russia

ot
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY}
|
|
FIThe Memoirs of Baron N. Wrangel
(1847-1920)

Baron N. Wrangel was a younger child
in one of the oldest military families
in Russia. Born in 1847, he saw the
last days of serfdom on his father’s
estate and his Memoirs contain many
typical stories of the oppression’ of
those days, his natural sensitiveness
being increased as a child by the fact
that, as one of the youngsters, he was
somewhat harshly and unfairly treated
by his father. He was sent for his
education to Geneva, and spent some
years in the administrative machinery
of the Russian Empire in Poland and
later as an officer in the crack regi-
ment of the Imperial Horseguards.
After that he was actively engaged in
business and chairman of many impor-
tant concerns. He wasin Russia dur-
ing the various stages of the Revolu-
tion and gives a graphic eye-witness’s
account of what happened, showing
even less liking for the Bolsheviks than
for the cynical and inept officials of
the old regime. In the course of a
very varied life he knew almost every-
body worth knowing in Russia, not
merely the wearers of stars and gar-
ters, whom he knew in the ordinary
course of things. He gives vivid,
amusing—and often startling—sketches
of the famous Jewish banker Roth-
stein, the erratic military genius Sko-
beloff, the ‘‘White General’ of the
Turkish wars who was always at log-
ger-heads with the authorities, the
Prime Minister Witté, his own son
Baron Wrangel, the famous com-
mander of the anti-Bolshevik armies,
and some of those curious favor-
icesmOtemsune: (zar.. the last

of whom, Rasputin, brought

about the actual collapse.

A remarkably clear picture

of life in Russia from
serfdom to Bolshevism. $4.00The Memoirs of

Baron N. WrangelFROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

The Memoits

of Baron N. Wrangel
ro47-'O 2-0

Translated by
BRIAN aad BEATRIX LUNN

PHILADELPHIA

J. B. Lippincott Company
1927PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAINContents

Chapter 1847-1859
1860-1864
1864-1867
1867-1872
1872-1895
1895-1904
I904-I9I14
1914-1918
I9gI18-1920j
:
H
'
4
5
H
i
4
{
}
+
IFrom Serfdom to Bolshevism

CHAPTER I
1847-1859

As I have never interested myself in questions of
genealogy I do not know whether it be a fact that my
name is, as the experts state, one of the oldest known to
students of genealogy. It is certainly mentioned in 12th
century documents.

One of my ancestors, the son of Count Charles Gustavus
Wrangel, the Swedish Field Marshal who distinguished
himself in the Thirty Years’ War, took service under the
Czar and settled permanently in Russia. And, as one of
my female ancestors, who was the granddaughter of the
Commander-in-Chief Hannibal, known as Peter the
Great’s Moor, and from whom the poet Pushkin was
descended, was a member of the Greek Church, her des-
cendants naturally also became members of the Orthodox
Church. Since that time the Luhde Tournis Luhdenhoft
branch of the Wrangels have regarded themselves as
Russian, quite as Russian indeed as those arch-Russians,
the Rurikovitch family who, like ourselves, are descended
from a Russian who was no Russian at all.

My father, true to the family tradition, took up the
profession of soldiering. He became Colonel of the Im-
perial Guards, and having been severely wounded in a
13FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

 

14
fight against the Turks, left the service, to retire to one of
his properties in the neighbourhood of St. Petersburg.

But as he was intelligent and exceptionally energetic,
the life of a simple country gentleman soon began to pall.
He built factories in the Ural, acquired gold mining
properties in Siberia, in fact tried his hand at most things.
Finally he was elected Marshal of the Nobility, an office
which at that time, when serfdom was still in force, was no
sinecure. As marshal he was a benevolent despot. Accord-
ing to his contemporaries, his kind acts were as numerous
as the beatings which he dealt out to those who were too
much inclined to take bribes.

To his children he was a comparative stranger, but we
were terrified of him. We only saw him at meals; he
spent the rest of his time in his private rooms which none
of us dared to enter save at his command.

A masterful, violent nature, he either could not or
would not control his temper, and was an object of terror
to us and to his servants. However, he had a good heart.
But at the period when he lived, harshness had become a
moral principle. To shew benevolence was to be weak,
to be cruel was to be strong.

The Emperor Nicholas I ruled his country like a game-
keeper. Under his administration of the empire, based
as it was upon a system of flogging, imprisonment and
exile to Siberia, the great could indulge their caprices
with impunity, and my father, like most men, was cast
in the mould of his period. He carefully concealed his
feelings under a mask of harshness.

He was certainly brutal ; he was also compassionate in
his own way. He could feel pity only for physical ills, and
probably did not even suspect the existence of other1847-1859 15
suffering. At this period children, the poor and the weak,
and still more the serfs, were scarcely considered to
possess a soul. This was the exclusive monopoly of the
great, and of beautiful women—and of these only if they
belonged to society. My father therefore saw to it that
his children were surrounded with luxury, well fed and
clad, that his employées were decently paid, and that
his serfs were not in want. He was generous in alleviating
such physical suffering as he came across, but remained
indifferent to suffering that he did not understand.

One day my sister, who in spite of her youth took
charge of the household after my mother’s death, begged
my father to allow one of his valets to marry a girl with
whom she said he was desperately in love, instead of the
girl who had been allotted to him. I shall never forget
my father’s outburst of prodigious mirth on hearing this.
He nearly choked himself with laughing.

“The creature in love! How delicious—a valet
suffering the darts of Cupid! Such a unique specimen
must be allowed to marry his lady love. To complete the
farce I’ll have them taken to the altar in state in my
carriage. Great souls must be treated according to their
deserts.”

On another occasion my father made a present of a
woman who had belonged to my mother to one of our
aunts. The woman’s son, a lad of about ten, stayed with
us. Some time afterwards my aunt asked my father to
take his present back.

“Why, don’t you want her any more ?”’ he asked.

‘The poor creature is wretched at being separated
from her child.”’

“How dare she? ... I’ve never really gone into16 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

these things . . . it’s quite possible after all that these
people have a soul just like ourselves. Keep the woman
—I'll give you her son.”’

It is difficult for people of to-day to visualise the
horrors of serfdom. The serf was a chattel that could be
dealt with by the owner just as he pleased. He was given
away, separated from his children, beaten as much and
as often as his master chose. The latter had the right to
exile him to Siberia, to shut him up in a madhouse, and
had, if not the legal right, at least the opportunity to
cause his death with impunity under the whip. And not
a few lords abused their power.

But the serf was not the only slave. In reality, if not
in fact, the masters were also slaves. Every man, whoever
he might be, was dependent on someone more powerful
than himself who could with impunity make him
wretched, and over him again there was someone still
mightier. The lord, it is true, lived in comfort, and the
serfs in squalor, but that was all. They were all slaves,
one as much as the other.

One day, at a state banquet at which I was present, an
aide-de-camp of the Emperor, with the rank of General,
ordered one of the guests, a rich and independent man
of fashion whom he had never seen before, to leave the
table. An opinion expressed by this gentleman had
unfortunately happened to displease his excellency, and
the rich and independent man obeyed.

I was born, brought up, and I lived among those in
power. But my wet-nurse wasa slave. So was Niania,!
who took the place of my mother. My playmates were
serfs. I have seen both oppressors and oppressed at

t Niania, children’s nurse.1847-1859 17
close quarters, and I can aver that the inhuman régime
of bondage corrupted and depraved one as much as the
other.

I was only four years old when my mother died in
Dresden. Judging by her portraits she must have
been very beautiful, and according to those who knew
her, she was goodness itself. I can only remember her
vaguely. Small children generally retain certain details
only—not the whole impression. Thus I can see myself
seated on a lady’s knee, who I now understand was my
mother. She wore a blue dress trimmed with red, and
her hair was in ringlets ; but I cannot see her face. We
are bowling along in the park in a dog-cart—I would
recognise the spot even now. A groom in doeskin
breeches and top-boots gallops behind us. My father is
driving, but I do not remember that—I have been told
sO.

On the other hand, my mother’s last departure for the
town in which she was to die, remains engraved on my
memory to the last detail. Her “ dormeuse "so the
carriages in which a bed could be put were called—har-
nessed with six horses, stops in front of the steps. My
mother and my elder sisters get intoit . . and we quickly
race across the garden towards the road the carriage will
take after having circled the park. Mama, seeing us,
stops the carriage, and Niania holds us up in turn to the
window. My mother weeps and strains us to her breast
and then turning to my nurse says, “I entrust them to
you,” and sobbing she seizes the old slave's hand and
covers it with kisses.

Later, there we are, big and little, governesses and

servants, all of us clothed in black—just like crows !
BIS FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

   

That amuses us and makes us laugh. And we do not
understand why the ladies who come to see us and bring
us pretty toys say, “ Poor little things.”’

We were a large family. There were four brothers,
three sisters, two governesses (one French and the other
German), my brother George’s tutor, and Niania. Two
aunts, my father’s sisters, lived with us besides; Aunt
Ida, who was nicknamed Chipie, and Aunt Jeanne. The
former, who looked like a badly stuffed giraffe, was
intriguing, shrewish and spiteful. Everybody hated her,
but she had my father’s ear, and he was all attention as
far as she was concerned.

Aunt Jeanne, on the other hand, was a kind soul,
simple-minded and good-hearted. Brought up when ths
Emperor Paul was still alive, at the ‘‘ Convent of Smolny
for daughters of the nobility,” she retained the traditions
of that period. Through fear of being thought “ shame-
less,”’

1

she never spoke to young men, and would blush
and cast down her eyes when replying to gentlemen of ripe
years. She usually kept to her own apartments, and pre-
ferred playing with her pugs and listening to the song of
her canaries to taking part in conversation in the drawing-
room. The amount of sweets she was able to devour was
unbelievable. Even to watch her was enough to give one
indigestion.

Our great delight was to ask her the time. The answer
was invariably the same. “‘ Thank God, I have never been
compelled to learn that. For such things I have my
women.” And she would ring for her maid.

~ Tell me what time it is by this watch.”

The house was run—as far as social matters and educa-
tion were concerned—by my sister Vera, who was barely1847-1859 1g
twenty ; while a majestic major-domo, who looked more
like an ambassador of His Brittanic Majesty than a serf,
was Minister of the Interior and Finances.

My father reigned, but did not govern. Like Jupiter,
he only interfered in the affairs of mortals in moments of
crisis. But when he did interfere it was no laughing
matter, and everybody, from cellar to attic, trembled in
his shoes. Niania alone was unimpressed by his thunder-
ings. She too was an Olympian.

The delicious old creature! Good, sweet, patient, she
was the embodiment of devotion. She belonged to the
classic type of nurses of whom our great poets have
sung; but she was something even nobler. Generally
the manners of these good souls are servile. Our Niania,
however, was hardly less than a lady. She had no knotted
handkerchief on her head, such as was worn not only by
the common people, but even by millionaire merchants’
wives; nor did she cross her arms on her breast as a
mark of deference. She wore an attractive bonnet with
silk ribbons, and her gestures were simple but dignified.
She was shrivelled and wrinkled like a baked apple; but
her fine clear eyes and beautiful white hair made her
seem young and fresh. In short, she was, or at any
rate we thought her charming. And we worshipped
her.

The family was divided into two clans, the elder and
the younger.

The elder ones were proud, rich, all powerful, fearing
none but Jupiter. They had fine rooms where they could
run about and play without fear of colliding with the
furniture; they lived in style and despised us and
punished us,20 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

The youngsters were weak and oppressed, with only a
little room as their domain; they were kept running
errands and had sweets to eat only on the rare occasions
when they were given a few.

They were teased and were accused of lying when they
were not telling lies, but were only saying things which
seemed true to them even if they may not have been, and
they were unhappy.

They had none to defend them against the iniquity of
their elders. Their mother was dead—and their father ?—
He was himself an object of fear. Niania, it is true, used
to take their part. But what could she do? She would
attack the enemy with spirit, but instead of giving battle
the miscreants, who had all been brought up by her and
all adored her as we did, would hug her, pull her about and
make her waltz, and in the end she had to flee to get off
with her life.

Besides, the clan of the little ones was so limited ; the
elders were so numerous. There were only four of us
little ones—no, only three. My small sister, whom every-
one called Bunny, Niania and I. My brother George had
ceased to be one of us two months ago. He now had a
private tutor, wore a coat, and treated us as a negligible
quantity. He became a kind of cross between the elders
and the juniors, a neutral, who, like all neutrals, tried to
curry favour with the strong. The two clans carried on a
constant warfare. The little ones sought to extend their
territory ; they were particularly anxious to get a close
view of the manners and customs of their neighbours in
order to introduce them at home, as Peter the Great had
done. But more often it was the elders who were the
aggressors. They would treat the youngsters as vassals1847-1859 21
and make fun of them; then, of course, honour had to
be satisfied.

In Town in the winter we used to live in a huge house—
childhood has its own proportions for estimating size—
not one room of which was comfortable in the true sense
of the word. There were suites of rooms, large and small,
sumptuous but inhospitable. Heavy, impressive, clumsy
gilt furniture of West Indian wood stood along the walls.
Sphinxes and chimeras supported tables whose marble
surfaces were cold to the touch. There were large porcelain
vases of Imperial Chinese design, Empire bronzes depict-
ing classic scenes, marble jars, mirrors reaching to the
ceiling, crude canvasses poorly painted but in the grand
manner, portraits of emperors and of ancestors.

Such was the room used by the elders, or to be exact
by my sisters. My father, my brother Alexander who was
in the diplomatic service, and George and his tutor were
on the ground floor. Michael, who was in the Horse
Guards, lived in barracks.

We children had only one little room, looking out on a
narrow yard whose only ornament was a huge rubbish
pit.

I do not want to suggest that we were housed in this
way through ill-will or hostility. By no means. It was
quite the general custom to give the worst room to the
children. Hygiene was still unknown, and such action
had the disciplinary motive of inculcating habits of
frugality at an early age. Besides in those days comfort
was not a prime consideration ; there was a barrack room
flavour about the whole household. Decorations were
introduced to emphasize one’s personal rank rather than
to give pleasure.22 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

Like everything else, our retreat had its points. It was
separated only by a wall from the ballroom. And when
there was dancing we heard the music and even the steps
of the dancers. Later on, thanks to George’s ingenuity,
we could even see their legs, for my brother had managed
to drill a hole in the wall.

We could thus have a dance of our own. Niania would
bring us fruits, sweets, refreshments, and later on some
supper from the buffet, and we used to dance until
morning.

Michael used to tease us most, but we liked him best.
God had made him to be worshipped, and everybody,
especially women, adored him. My father himself was
proud of him and gave in to all his whims. He was hand-
some and witty and led a gay life; but was a devil for work
when he took a thing up, so that nothing seemed impos-
sible to him. He always achieved his desires. And
he had a really extraordinary talent for music. The
famous Rubinstein said that he played “like a young
god.”’

He naturally thought the universe had been created for
his personal pleasure. When he was in the mood he
used to play with us quite nicely ; but when he thought it
funnier to tease us and make us cry he did not hesitate to
do so. In fine, we were just like clever little dogs to him,
whose reason for existence is to amuse their master.
When he came home, if he did not find the elders in, he
used to burst into our domain.

“ Hullo kids !’’

“ Back again, you wretch,” Niania used to say. “ Are
you going to bully the children again ?”’

“ Not at all, my dear Niania.”’1847-1859 23

“I know you. But let me tell you, if you try it on I'll
throw you out.”

And then the fun would begin. Michael made us drill,
and we marched past to the drum, presented arms,
galloped across the Champ de Mars. Then he taught us
songs, which were certainly very amusing but would
scandalise the governess and get us punished—why, we
shall never know. Then he would start pinching our
cheeks, pulling our noses and in the end, without meaning
any harm, he would make us furious and reduce us to
tears.

One day Niania, who had gone away for a moment,
came back to find us dancing and bawling like little
devils. Michael had made us drink champagne and we
were drunk.

On this occasion Niania did not confine herself to scold-
ing. She turned Michael out and went to complain to my
father.

I learnt by chance what happened. Bunny and I were
lying under the sofa when my sister Vera came into the
room. Niania told her what had happened.

‘And you bothered father about such a trifle ?”

“ Trifles indeed ! Nice trifles,’’ scolded the old woman.

“What did father say ?”’

‘Oh your father! Where his dear Michael is concerned
what do you think he would say? He laughed.”

“ That was all ?”’

‘“ When I told him that kind of thing must be stopped,
he interrupted me. ‘ Very well,’ he said, ‘ Put your brats
to bed and let them sleep it off.’ ”’

But that was not the end of this memorable incident.
Next day we came down to bid my father good morning.24 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

In the ordinary way we used to find him at his writing
table. Bunny used to drop him her most graceful curtsey,
and I would make a respectful bow. Without stopping
work he used to give us his hand to kiss. Another curtsey
and we hurried back to our room, glad to get the business
over.

That morning he did not hold out his hand, but looked
at us with a terrible expression.

“You ruffians,” he said. ‘‘ You dare get drunk. I'll
shew you. Niania, send for the birch. You shall be
whipped.”

‘“ Your Michael and not they should be whipped.”

“ Shut up, you old fool, and do what I tell you.”’

Niania did not budge.

“Well? I’m waiting ... take care! Are you going
to obey me ?”’

“ T shall not obey you.’

My father jumped. ‘‘ How dare you ?”

“ Their mother put them in my charge, I am responsible
forthem. Neither you nor anyone else shall touch them.”

There was silence. And then a kindly smile passed over
my father’s face.

“Very well, you obstinate old mule! Take the children
for a walk.”

And he stroked our hair and said, “‘ Poor little devils.”

When anyone fell sick we were immediately hurried
off to my mother’s uncle, General Mauderstierna, Com-
mandant of the Fortress, the Russian bastille, to avoid
infection. My great uncle, who was kindness itself,
adored children and especially us. So the Fortress,
the very name of which inspired terror, was a place of joy
for us. The Commandant’s big ship, manned by twenty-

,1847-1859 25
four sailors, came to fetch us, and landed us at the foot
of the grim Fortress. We passed through the huge gate, a
kind of tunnel pierced in the thick walls, and we were
seized with a feeling of cold and terror. But inside the
walls there was nothing gloomy. Opposite the entrance
was the white church with its gilded spire which contained
the tombs of the Czars, and on the left lay the Comman-
dant’s house, surrounded by a huge garden. But this
green and smiling garden was enclosed, and one could
only catch glimpses of it through the little peepholes which
pierced the walls here and there. According to our
nurse, it was there that the Décembristes had been im-
prisoned.

“ Tell us, Niania, what were these Décembmstes ? Bni-
gands ?”

“No, children, they were great lords . . . generals.”

“And why were they put in prison? Were they
wicked ?”’

Niania smiled and did not answer.

My great-uncle’s house was cheerful, roomy, full of
sunlight, and furnished just like any other house. But
thanks to the village gossips, everything about it seemed
mysterious to us. One room in particular interested us.
It was a vast, unused apartment, full of old plumed
helmets, cuirasses and big swords. Our great-uncle shewed
us the uniform which he wore at the battle of the Moskva
where his jawbone was shot away by a bullet. After
lunch great-uncle always locked up this room himself
and put the key in his pocket. Then he would open it
again an hour or two later, so that we could admire its
treasures at our leisure.26 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

“ Great-uncle, give me your key! I want a helmet to
play with, please .. .?”

‘Later on, my dear.”

‘But I want it now.”

“You can’t have it. I want it myself.”’

“But why ? Why do you shut up this room ?”’

‘Why, that’s obvious . . . so that no one can get it.”

‘Why don’t you want anyone to go in?”

‘Well, because . . . because . . . because Croquem1-
taine goes in there for his siesta after lunch.”’

‘“Tt’s not true! It’s not true! There’s no such person
as Croquemitaine. He was invented to frighten little
children, you told me so yourself.”’

Great-uncle would open his eyes.

“T told you that ? Oh, come now what an idea! No
such person as Croquemitaine ! But I have seen him with
my own eyes.”

‘‘ Where, where have you seen him ?”

‘Why, here, only last week. But run and play, my
boy. I want my siesta, too.”

And he was gone. I went to consult Niania, and she
told me that my great-uncle had said that to get rid of
me. My continual questions got on his nerves. Bunny,
who was very well informed in these matters, and who
never spoke thoughtlessly, also assured me that Croque-
mitaine was a myth. But my great-uncle, who never lied,
had seen him. Therefore he existed.

It was a cruel puzzle! Come what may, I had to solve
it. I cross-questioned my great-uncle in a truly magisterial
manner.

‘“ Perhaps it was someone else, not Croquemitaine, who
went to sleep in this room ?”’1847-1859

“No, it was really he. He can’t be mistaken.”

‘‘ How did you know him ?”

“ By everything about him ; his appearance, his age.”’

“Ts he old then ?”’

“Very old.”

“Older than you ?”

‘‘T should think so. I’m not so very old.”

‘Much older ?”’

“Oh, yes. Besides, he has quite a different face.”

“What is his face like ?”’

“ Dreadful, you have only to look at him to know that
it can’t be anybody else.”’

“How can he be seen ?””’

‘Ah, that’s a difficult question.”

“Can you go near him ?”’

“It’s very dangerous. Invariably . . . but anyway, I
believe it’s impossible. ”’

“ But how did you manage it ?”’

This was a ticklish question, but the witness did not
falter.

‘How did I manage it? What a strange question !
But that’s quite easy !”

S lfits easy, tell me.

‘“T looked through the keyhole.”

“You ... you looked through the keyhole! Is it
allright to do that ?”

“ All right ? No, you must never do it.”’

‘“ But then why did you doit ? A grown-up man
aren’t you ashamed of yourself ?”’

“Now listen. When it’s not done out of curiosity, but
for a scientific end . . . do you see . . . it’s a different
matter.”28 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

But I was no longer listening. I had made up my mind.

And I spent my whole time with my eye to the keyhole.
But there was nothing to be seen, and I made a heroic
resolve.

One day the moment lunch was finished I tiptoed into
the mysterious room and hid myself under an old sofa.

But I gradually became seized with panic. These ogres
had such a sharp sense of smell! And the fate which
awaited me made me shiver. I would have fled, but the
key turned in the lock. I was a prisoner. And I lay quiet,
more dead than alive, praying to God not to let the ogre
devour me.

But nobody came. Heaven had evidently heard my
prayer, and had stopped Croquemitaine from coming for
his siesta. I came out of my hiding-place and went over
to the window.

It looked out on a tiny garden, enclosed like my great-
uncle’s and probably only separated from it by a dividing
wall. There were a few trees, a bed of dahlias and a
wooden seat. A big yellow cat with black markings was
stalking a sparrow which was hopping about on the
gravel. Would he catch it ? Wouldn’t he ? And suddenly
alittle door opened. . . I nearly fell backwards. Croque-
mitaine appeared in the garden.

It was really he ; it was impossible to mistake him. He
was much older than any man—dquite, quite old, all
warped and bent with age. Leaning on a stick, he moved
along very slowly, his head shaking so much that it seemed
about to fall off his neck, his eyes appearing to see nothing.
He lowered himself on to the seat, placed his skeleton-like
hands with their long emaciated fingers on his knees, and
sat there motionless with his eyes lost in space.1847-1859 29

I was not frightened. Croquemitaine was so unhappy
and wretched that I began to cry out of pity.

Many years afterwards I learned who the poor old man
was. Just before the Empress Catherine’s death, quite a
young man whose name nobody knew was imprisoned in
the Fortress. The letter authorising his imprisonment
simply stated that “the unknown” was to remain a
prisoner during Her Majesty’s pleasure. He was treated
with consideration and lacked fornothing. The expense of
his maintenance was defrayed from the Emperor’s private
purse. Three reigns, and more than sixty years had gone
by since then. Great-uncle had repeatedly spoken of the
wretched man to the Emperor, but the answer was always
the same. “ There is no use talking about it. It is impos-
sible.”’

At Easter and at Christmas we were taken to the
“‘balaganes,’’ a people’s féte in the Admiralty square.
On this particular day my father would, according to the
local custom, take the place of the footman beside the
coachman.

These “‘ balaganes,” survivals from the time of Peter
the Great, are like many other things, forgotten now. The
traditions of the past are not kept up in Russia.

There were tents, wooden booths, menageries, acrobats,
harlequins, colombines, pierrots, giants with fur shakos ;
and moujiks with red noses and false beards down to their
knees and bottles of vodka in their hands, shouting
ribaldries which made the men guffaw and the girls blush.
The acrobats climbed to enormous heights, the merry-go-
rounds whirled, the music played and a huge crowd30 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM
shouted and sang, making an infernal din. Cossacks with
whips (nagaika) in their hands, kept order.

An endless procession of carriages moved round the
outer ring. Streams of court carriages with four horses
preceded by lancers and followed by grooms on horseback
in scarlet and gold liveries and three cornered hats, would
carry girls from the schools for “daughters of the nobility.”
Then came the gentlemen’s carriages drawn by thorough-
bred horses, and vehicles from the remotest corners of the
provinces, with horses to match. Other carriages moved
round in an outer circle at a slow pace. There was the
grand-duchess Héléne with her high stepping horses, the
other grand-duchesses, and the Emperor’s son. And
suddenly a cheer rends the air. A little “ droshky ”
drawn by a superb dappled grey horse of the famous
Orlov breed passes at a smart trot. It is the Emperor!
Tall, majestic, he is as handsome as Apollo and holds
himself as stiff as a Prussian corporal.

On Palm Sunday we went with Niania to the fair of the
same name which is held in front of the ‘‘ Gostinny Dvor.”’

All sorts of toys and trifles were sold here: wooden
horses that looked like an unknown breed of poodle,
whistles that didn’t whistle, tambourines that burst if
they were played on.

The novelties of the day were rabbits whose heads
wagged, Turks with gold turbans made of ginger bread,
and little demons in bottles, who would caper when you
pressed the button. True, these toys were dreadfully
expensive. For instance, for two kopeks, about the
equivalent of a farthing, you could only buy three Turks.
But we were rich and did not mind, and we had to have
them at all costs.1847-13859 31

We would mix with the crowd at the risk of being
crushed ; Niania elbowing her way through, cajoling and
threatening, and we would finally emerge quite happily,
bearing our trophies.

But alas, happiness does not last. Our elders were
delighted with our purchases, and would set the rabbits’
heads going and make the demons dance, and then crack !
and they wouldn’t work any more. Michael, affirming that
as a soldier he was bound to exterminate all infidels, would
break off the Turk’s head and eat it.

We would bellow and our elders would call us cry-babies
and send us back to our room.

Thus ended all our pleasures.

Occasionally we were taken to children’s balls. 1!
loathed these balls, but there it was. It was necessary
from the earliest age to become accustomed to society and
good manners.

Our necks were washed till the skin nearly came off, our
nails were manicured, the hairdresser came to curl our
hair, we were scented, and lemon-coloured gloves were
bought for us.

“Now,” says Niania, ‘‘ stay quiet a moment. I am
going to fetch the new suit and shoes which your sister
Vera has ordered for you.”

She comes back furious. My sister has forgotten to
give the order. What is to be done? My old party suit
has got too short for me, and the shoes are in a deplorable
state. A consultation is held with the grown-ups. Aunt
Chipie decides that “it’s all a fuss about nothing’”’ And
in spite of my protests, off we go.

At the ball I try to hide my feet for fear of shewing my32 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

shoes. The little girls say nothing, but the boys point
at them in a teasing way.

‘You have got smart shoes on,’’ says one of them.
‘Did they come from Paris ?”’

Aunt Marie, who is very fond of me, is distressed to see
me rigged out like this.

‘But my dear,” she says to my sister, “ just look at
your brother.”

My sister blushes.

‘«« Aunt, it was I who gave orders that he should be dress-
ed in that awful suit. That child is simply eaten up
with vanity. He must learn not to think so much of
trifles.”’

“You are always right,” says Aunt Marie.

That infuriates me. She tells a lie and she is told that she
is right. We return home, and I pass the night in
tears.

The injustice of humanity revolts me. We are punished
when we have not lied, and the real liars are believed.
These grown-ups are all horrid. There are only three fair
people in the world, Niania, Bunny and I.

I was only eight years old when the Crimean War broke
out. But certain details with reference to this period are
engraved on my memory.

Our grand-parents (I do not speak only of my own)
spoke, thought, and wrote nothing but French. Their
whole culture came from France, and besides, the mental
outlook of the Russians and the French is similar. Neither
of them have the ability to concentrate on details, like
the Germans, but they tend rather to seek a broad grasp
of the whole. Their horizon is wider than that of other1847-1859 33
nations. It is their good quality and perhaps also their
failing. Consequently the upper classes looked upon
France as their second country.

The Emperor Nicholas I, who was very German, both
in intelligence and sympathy, looking on France as the
source of the liberal ideas of which he was the sworn
enemy, had done everything to alienate the sympathies of
his subjects from this “‘ degenerate and noxious ”’ people.
He had failed in this object. But as the Czar had drilled
his people to take their cue from him, one was care-
ful not to express one’s own opinions. Besides. it was
rather annoying to see the France whom we loved so
well marching against us. Our pride was wounded.

The war was spoken of as a piece of foolishness on the
part of a friend, as a temporary aberration from which he
would presently recover. It was madness for them to set
themselves up against us, who were invincible. And we
sneered at the fickleness of the French, without really
believing init. The theatre of war was so remote from the
capital that it was hard to realise that the war was in
progress. At the same-time one made bandages to show
one’s patriotism ; the women wore brooches in the shape
of little gold bayonets and the men wore overcoats that
had a military cut.

Lint bandages were made everywhere. It became a
positive rage, and people met together for it, as we do
nowadays for bridge. Even the children were admitted
to the drawing-room to swell the number of available
hands, and while we worked, one of the party read the
war bulletins. As a rule they did not vary. “ The losses
amongst the allies have been immense. We have only

had two men wounded and one killed.”’
Cc34 HROM SEREP DOM TO BCESHEVIs™
~ And anyway,” said Michael, “that’s the same one
that was killed yesterday.”

We no longer saw anything of my father. He was
overwhelmed with work. The nobility were raising regi-
ments of “ opoltchentsi,’’ a kind of militia, at their own
expense. Each landed proprietor gave a certain number of
serfs and equipped them out of his own pocket. The
equipment was the serious business. There was nothing
much in sacrificing a few men, for a serf only cost about a
hundred roubles. But what ought one to give them in the
way of clothes ? The Emperor was very particular about
that. He insisted that the strength of an army lay entirely
in the drilling of the troops, and in the cut and colour of
their uniform. Anything else was of secondary impor-
tance. It was not for nothing that the Grand-Duke Con-
stantine, the Emperor’s brother, declared that war was
detrimental to the troops, as it got them out of the habit
of doing manceuvres properly.

Eventually, after much delay and argument, uniforms
were found. The tunic and trousers were grey with a red
stripe, and the helmets of the same colour bore a cross
with the inscription: “For God, the Czar and our
Country.”

My father, glad to have finished with the business,
ordered me a copy of this uniform. And thus attired, very
proud to be a militiaman too, I went with my nurse to
swagger in the Summer Garden, where ali the people of
fashion walked.

The ground had become soaked by the thaw, and as
was usual in spring, a narrow pathway of planks had been
laid down along the roads, and at a turning of one of the
paths, we saw the Emperor, tall and majestic, wearing an1847-1859 35
ordinary soldier’s cloak, coming towards us. We hastily
got off the footpath to give him room, and I stood at
attention, having been well drilled by Michael.

The Emperor, seeing the trooper's uniform, stopped.

‘A militiaman ?”’

“ Quite right, your Imperial Majesty.”

In accordance with an army order, a soldier’s answer
had to resound like a thunder clap, so I puffed for all 1
was worth.

“ Don’t puff like that, little frog, you'll burst,” said the
Emperor.

“Glad to do so in your Imperial Majesty's service.

The Emperor seemed to smile. He was said to be fond
of children, though that did not prevent their being beaten
to a jelly in the schools.

‘Whose son are you?

I told him my father’s name.

“T know him well. Give him my regards.”

“ Glad to do so in the service of your Imperial Majesty.”

“ Tell him he’s to make a good soldier of you. Give you
a good taste of the stick. Smack, smack. That does little
rascals good.”’

“ Quite so, Your Imperial Majesty.”

The Emperor went on his way. Even in jest, Nicholas I
remained true to his principles of administration.

A little while afterwards the Emperor died. It was
rumoured that he foresaw the catastrophe of the Crimea
and, unwilling to survive such a blow to his prestige,

”

poisoned himself.

My uncle took me to the Fortress church where his body
lay in state so that I might kneel before his mortal re-
mains. Although the public was not admitted at that36 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

time, sentries, generals, aides-de-camp and chamberlains,
as rigid as statues, watched over the corpse. The Em-
peror's face was almost black. It was the first dead body
I had seen, and for a long time I thought that the faces of
the dead were all like that.

The death of Nicholas I was the salvation of Russia,
but everyone pretended to be broken-hearted. Yet one
day I heard a gentleman say that on the whole his death,

' Hush !” said one of my uncles, horrified. ‘‘ Take care!
If you are heard, it’s all up with you.”

Thirty years afterwards, when I was talking to the
Grand-Duke Nicholas, the Grand-Duke Michael’ son,
and a well-known historian, I recalled this incident.

» It’s hardly surprising,” said the Grand-Duke. “ The
Emperor had succeeded in so terrifying his subjects
that even now, after an interval of three reigns, my
father (his son) trembles at the thought of incurring his
displeasure.”

We spent the summer in the country, at our beloved
Terpilitzy, which was a veritable earthly paradise for us
little ones. Everything was delightful there, and our
room not the least so. The sun poured into it, and the
windows were almost overgorwn with lilac, We were
allowed to play and run about wherever we liked * and
the whole house, with the exception of my father’s rooms,
was at our disposal. It was not in the least like our town
house, for everything there was for comfort rather than
for show. And how charming my mother’s apartments
were, which were kept as they were when she lived in them.
There were sofas covered with flowered silk, little stands
surmounted with bronze sculptures, tables that one almost
longed to stroke, innumerable queer little odds and ends to1847-1859 37
please the eye, and masses of flowers. Among the pictures
were miniatures, and the portraits of my grandparents.
He was bronzed, almost brown, and wore 18th century
dress—a white coat with the cordon of the Order of St.
Vladimir ; she had powdered hair and wore the slightly
simpering smile of the ladies of that period. Another
canvas depicted our whole family, including Niania. I
was the only one absent, for it had been painted before I
was born. It was a very quaint portrait. My father and
brothers, almost suffocated by their neckties, and with
their arms encased in sleeves too tight for them, looked
more like comic puppets than real human beings.

There was nothing alarming even in my father’s study.
It contained engravings, and etchings by one of our serfs,
our great friend Black Peter. This was an exceptionally
gifted youth of about twenty, who combined the functions
of servant and artist. He drew without having ever been
taught, spoke French and German, was an excellent actor
and a perfect shot—in short, he possessed all the accom-
plishments, but could neither read nor write. And this
was only because he had not thought it worth while to
learn. He continued to live with us after the emancipa-
tion of the serfs, although in what capacity it would have
been hard to say. He had no job and did just what he
liked. He was one of those useless people whom one
cannot do without.

Those were indeed happy times! We harnessed or
saddled our ponies, which were our very own, without
asking leave of the grown-ups, and galloped in the park.
We embarked on great voyages of exploration with the
village children—we were the explorers and they were
the native porters. The remote parts of the park, where38 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

ancient trees grew, were inhabited by Red Indians and
cannibals, and herds of lions and elephants. These coun-
tries were only known by hearsay, for no European had
ever ventured into them.

And it was we, and not the grown-ups, who followed the
example of Christopher Columbus !

At other times we would go mushroom-gathering in the
real forest in great parties which included the grown-ups,
neighbours, and keepers armed with guns in case of en-
countering bears or wolves. Then there was haymaking !
We were sometimes allowed to bring in the hay, and we
were hoisted up on the cart and given the reins to hold.
Really and truly! The driver walked by the horse’s head,
but it was we who drove.

We had garden plots of our own, and we grew vegetables
there on a large scale, in the American method. But ill-
luck dogged our efforts—nothing would ever come up.
The only thing that disappointed us was that George
would not have anything to do with us, and even that did
not worry us very much—“ all the worse for him.” It is
true that he had plenty to do. He spent his whole time
from morning till night training a Newfoundland to
become a sporting dog, and trying to fit a wooden trigger
to his gun in place of the one which was missing.

What excitement there was when the performing bears
arrived! The whole village, old and young, would turn
out to see the fun. The programme was always the same,
but the spectators not difficult to please.

One of the bear-leaders put his head into a sack
decorated with two horns—he was supposed to be a goat
and capered round the bear, making facetious remarks,
and so the entertainment would begin. The bear would1847-1859 39
shew how the village children steal peas from their neigh-
bours’ gardens, how the women go to work in the fields,
and how they go to the fair. He would shew them kicking
and limping and pretending to be ill when they were
going to work, but they would hurry along to the fair,
strutting and swinging their hips, making the most of
their charms.

Then came scenes from private life. The bear would
shew the young women making themselves pretty, their
flirtations with the men, how they danced, how they
quarrelled with their husbands ; and the show would end
up with a fight with the goat. That was all. The gentry
would give the bear-leaders a few roubles, and bread and
milk would be brought for the bear, and then—goodbye |

Ancther sight, but this time a sad one, was the departure
of the recruits.

The landowner was bound to provide a certain number
of men, the choice of which rested entirely with him. The
period of service was twenty-five years, and the military
system was terrible. More was demanded of a man than
he could possibly do. They were beaten and treated like
dogs, and many died under the lash. The method was to
kill three if necessary, in order to train one man.

The people themselves looked on the conscript as a man
condemned to death, and on his departure as the equiva-
lent of a funeral. As soon as the choice was made, the man
chosen by his master was immediately handcuffed, im-
prisoned and guarded to prevent his committing suicide.
The whole village gathered about his prison, and he would
be given spirits to console him.

“The drunken man,” says a proverb, “ forgets his
misfortune.” And the conscripts, maddened with drink,40
would sing, shriek, and weep in the most heartbreaking
way. Wives, mothers and children would do likewise. It
was terrible. But such is the human heart that all sights,
and particularly the visible suffering of others, will draw
the crowd. Old and young would run to see.

We, poor innocents, were unable to understand the
dramas which we witnessed, until much later. Children
are more impressionable than thoughtful, and it is beyond
their understanding to grasp the real meaning of things.

At the same time I often wonder how it is that we small
children did understand many things which escaped
our elders, whose intelligence was, nevertheless, riper
than our own. Perhaps it was simply that they were
hardened to them.

Sometimes our precocity got us into trouble.

One day we were sitting quietly on the terrace listening
to the reading aloud of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, a book which was
then in fashion. My sisters could not get over the horrors

of slavery, and wept tears at the sad fate of poor Uncle
Tom.

FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

“T cannot conceive,’ said one of them, ‘‘ how such
atrocities can be tolerated. Slavery is horrible.”

~ But,” said Bunny in her shrill little voice, ‘‘ we have
slaves too.”

~ What nonsense! Where did you get such an idea ?”

~ But they are flogged just like Uncle Tom,” I put in.

~ Hold your tongue. You children are stupid. Where
have you ever seen any slaves ?”’

““ Jean and Alexis were bought.”

“ That’s quite different,’ said my sister. ‘‘ Father

bought them because they were unhappy with their
master.”1847-1859

“ But at any rate their master sold them.”

‘““ He was poor and had to do so.”

“ Pardon me,’’ said the governess. “‘ Let me endeavour
to explain to them the difference between serfs and
slaves ; they are obviously confusing the two. Slaves,
my dear children, are poor negroes torn from their native
country and from their families, and so you can under-
stand that they are naturally very wretched. Serfs are
people of the same religion and race as their masters,
living in their own country and among their own people,
only they are attached to the soil. Do you understand
now ?”

* But they are sold and beaten. Why, only yesterday
a coachman was flogged.”’

“ In any case, that’s no concern of yours,’’ said Chipie.
~ And besides, if the steward punished him, he probably
deserved it.”’

“ It wasn’t the steward, it was father.”

‘“ What, you dare to criticize your father ! We shall see
about that.” And she rose. ‘I shall tell him of this and
zen... .

‘Oh, come, Aunt Chipie,” intervened my eldest sister.
We musn’t bother Papa.”

~ But these children are so disrespectful.”

“It is true,” said my sister, “‘ that they poke their noses
into everything. Leave the room at once! If you can’t
understand what is read to you, there’s no use in your
staying here.”’

Meter aie ss

‘ But me no buts! Do what you’re told !”

And we never heard any more of the story which
interested us so much.42 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

How unjust these grown-ups are! Oh no! We had no
slaves as in America—only serfs attached to the soil!
We could have made plenty of answers to that, which the
grown-ups were quite as well aware of as ourselves, but
they did not want to hear them.

One of our neighbours was Count Visapur, the last of
his name. His grandfather, either an Indian or an Afghan
—I am not sure which—had come to St. Petersburg in the
reign of Catherine II to pay homage to his Empress. He
died there and his son, the father of the man of whom I
am speaking, was brought up in the cadet corps. The
Empress pensioned him, and her son Paul conferred on
him the title of Count. This gentleman, whom I had often
seen at neighbours’ houses, did not visit us, as my father
would not receive him. He was a hideously ugly man
getting on in years, but very elegant and polite, and
always dressed in a blue frock coat with gold buttons, and
white trousers.

One day after his death we went to see his estate, which
my father was thinking of buying. Instead of one big
house he had six or seven fairly roomy small ones, each
built in a different style. According to his steward, each
had contained a harem of women recruited from the
wives and daughters of his serfs. They were all dressed
to match their surroundings—in Chinese costume in the
Chinese house, in Spanish dress in another house, and so
on. The Count lived first in one house, then in another.

These houses were surrounded by a beautiful garden
containing flower beds, canals with gondola’ floating on
them, artificial pools and statues. However the statues
were no longer there and only their pedestals were to be
seen. The Count’s old steward explained their absence1847-1859

   

43

by telling us that they were working in the fields. In the
dead proprietor’s time the statues were living men and
women, stripped naked and painted white. They had to
stay motionless in their poses for hours at a time, when the
Count was sailing in his gondola or walking in the garden.
He even showed us the torture house—a torture chamber
would not have been enough. It contained everything—
whips, the boot—I cannot remember them all now.
Being neither an executioner nor a victim, the names of

these things do not interest me.

The Count’s death was quite as fantastic as his mode of
life. One day when he was strolling past a group repre-
senting Hercules and Venus, the two statues jumped down
from their pedestal; Venus threw sand in his eyes, and

Hercules broke his neck with his club.

They were tried and condemned to the knout. Venus
died under it and Hercules was sent to Siberia.

Another of our neighbours, a M. Rontzoff, Count
Vorontzoft’s natural son (in the 18th century the father
gave his bastards his own name with the first syllable
omitted) was also reputed to be cruel to his people. My
father had many grounds of complaint against him, but
as he had no actual evidences of illegal abuses, he could

do nothing in his capacity as marshal.

But my father

never stopped at his house, which he had to pass on his

way to the town.

One day as we were passing through his village, one of
our axles broke. M. Rontzoff hurried to us as soon as he
heard of the accident, and we were his guests for some
hours. We at once noticed the way in which the servants
walked about on the balls of their feet, and my father

made surreptitious enquiries about it. He learned that to44
prevent his serfs from running away, as many had already
done, M. Rontzoff had had the soles of their feet burned
and horsehair inserted in them.

FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

M. Rontzoff was put under surveillance.

It is certainly true that these two landowners were
exceptional and worse than the majority. By way of
contrast I must mention an odd character who was con-
sidered to be very humane. He was a freethinker, the
encyclopedia was his bible, and Voltaire was his god. He
chose his epitaph during his own lifetime: ‘‘ God, if
there is one, take my soul, if there is one.”

He was a good man, well-informed but fussy and pe-
dantic. He insisted on efficient service, and was very
exacting in this respect. On principle he was against
corporal punishment. His theory was to work on the
feelings of the culprits, without wounding their dignity.
For instance, if there was too much salt in the soup he
would send for the cook and make him swallow the
entire contents of the soup-tureen, which had been in-
tended for twenty guests. The place was full of servants
going about with a red tongue labelled “liar” stuck to
their jaws, or wearing donkeys’ ears. His valet, a grand-
father aged eighty, for months had to wear a Cap in-
scribed “ lazy and stupid.” The poor old man became ill
with chagrin.

It was in the country that we drew up our political
programme, which was as follows :

Article I. When we are grown-up we shall be famous
like Napoleon, or the man who discovered steam.

Article II. All our serfs will be emancipated, and we
shall never treat them, or our children, unjustly.
Article IIT. We shall keep lots of horses and dogs.1847-1859 45

Article IV. I shall have a double-barrelled gun like
Alexander.

Bunny would have liked to modify the programme, but
she did not insist upon it. Instead of being celebrated,
she would rather have had twins, a boy and a girl. If that
was not feasible, she would have been satisfied with a nice
little monkey, or a very tiny little white elephant. He
musn’t be too big as she wanted him to live in our room
and not in the stable. In the interests of truth I ought to
add that our programme was never realised. Like all the
programmes of political parties in Russia, it was imprac-
ticable. Practice and theory are not the same thing.

The year 1859 was disastrous for me, and even now,
after sixty-five years, I remember it with sorrow. It is
quite wrong to think that children cannot suffer like
grown men, except in the way of physical pain. It began
with my separation from Bunny, whom I loved better
than myself. She passed out of Niania’s care and was
handed over to governesses. Niania, to whom I was also
devoted, moved down to the ground floor and I was left
alone. My father had decided to send me to the Lycée
Impérial as a boarder, and I had to work for the spring
examinations.

Up to this time my education had been completely
neglected. I knew nothing—or practically nothing. Any-
thing I did know was by the grace of God. I could read
and write fairly well in French, not too badly in German,
but certainly anything but well in Russian. I had de-
voured all the French books in our library, which no one
ever used, and had a vague idea of French history, culled
from the works of Alexandre Dumas, Sir Walter Scott,46 FROM SEREDOM TOGO BGLSHEVISM

Voltaire and other historians of that type. Niania was
entrusted with my religious instruction, and as she did
not even know how to read, her ideas on theology were
hardly those of the Church Fathers. She thought God was
just like the Czar, except that one lived in heaven and the
other on earth. He was the most powerful of all beings
and inclined to be stern rather than merciful. At any rate
she always spoke of his severity and never of his goodness.

~ He'll teach you to behave yourself! He doesn’t
forgive people! He is pitiless when He is offended !’’

She would shrug her shoulders when she heard anyone
invoking the help of God,

~ Take my word for it, my dear, He won’t listen to you.
Rely on yourself instead of on God, and you're not so
likely to be disappointed.”’

But she believed firmly in divine justice.

~ Tam going to light a candle to God,” said some old
woman to her.

~ You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Do you think
that God is like the ¢chinovniks (state servants) to be
bribed with a bottle of wine ? It’s no use trying to grease
His palm.”’

The saints were of negligible importance in her eyes.

~ Oh, they don’t amount to much. I suppose you think
that the moment God deigns to speak to them, they have
the power to help you? Rubbish! You can give up any
idea of such a thing. After all, the baron speaks to his
servants, but does that make them powerful ?”’

And that was the entire extent of my scientific stock-in-
trade.

But my unhappiness was derived from other causes. I
remained in sole possession of our room after Bunny and1847-1859

Niania had departed, and as I now had more space than

I needed, according to Chipie, she moved in all her trunks

and boxes. In the end there was no table at which I could

work. I appealed to the house-steward to give me one.

He said that there was not one to spare, and that he could
10t buy one without reference to my father.

“A writing table ?”’ said my father. “ What nonsense.
Any table will do for him to write at. That’s quite good
enough for what he’s got to do.”’

And that was the end of that. But where was I to work?
It was easy enough when my tutors were there. My eldest
brother worked at the Foreign Office for part of the day,
and I would take them to his room.

But where could I do my preparation? I installed
myself in the dining-room with my books and papers.

“Tt’s time to lay the table, sir,” said the butler.
‘“ Would you mind clearing it ?”

“ But I’ve got to work.”

“ You can work in your room.”

‘““T haven’t got a table.”’

“Tm very sorry, but I can’t help that "

I went on writing.

‘T shall have to go to your father, sir.”

I would hastily collect my things and move into a
drawing-room. Chipie would catch sight of me as she was
passing.

“What are you doing here? This is not the place for
you. You'll ruin that table. Look, there’s an inkstain
already !”

“ That’s not a stain. It’s a vein in the marble. You
might take the trouble to look before blaming me.”

“You would teach me manners, would you ?”48 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

SIBUG eae

‘ Hold your tongue and clear out.”

“ But I haven’t got a table.”

~ Allright. I shall go to your father this time.”

I could have hit her . . . but I would collect my books
and try another place... . only to be turned out again.
My lessons would not be ready.

~ It is disgraceful,”’ my tutor would say.

‘ But I don’t know where to write, sir.’”’

~ You won’t do your work and then you lie about it.”

Bub sir?’

“ Be quiet. No table? Ina house like this !”

And it was the same every day. I used to settle first in
one room and then in another, but I was always turned
out. My masters were cross with me and so were the
grown-ups. I spent my days on the look-out for danger,
and my nights in tears. The one thing that revolted me
more than anything else was injustice. It was their fault,
not mine, that I had nowhere to work, and it was I who
had to suffer for it. I hated them all.

I hated them, and the worst of it was that I could not
hide it, and seeing my hatred made them angrier with me
than ever.

One day, when I was if possible more miserable than
usual, Michael came into my room. He disliked scenes,
but he was kindhearted, and probably guessed that I was
unhappy.

“ Are you working ?”

Realising that tears were very near, I did notanswer, but
only nodded my head.

~ Well, I won’t disturb you. Cheer up, all boys have to
go through it.”1847-1859

He turned on his heel, but he stopped at the door.

‘‘T’ll try and fix up something for you.”” And he went
out.

My friend Black Peter, who was second valet to my
father, told me that Michael really had spoken about me,
but my father had answered that he was very much dis-
pleased at my conduct. Everyone complained of me—I
would not work and was rude to my aunt.

‘‘T am not going to interfere yet,” said my father, “ but
he had better take care that I am not forced to doso. I'll
teach him how to behave.”’

“ He is thin and off colour,” said Michael.

‘Well, let him go riding. Nothing like it. See to it,
will you ?”

And to my great delight I went off to the riding-school
three times a week. But that did not help me to get a
table, and my unhappiness continued.

To crown my misfortunes my second sister got engaged.
At that time it was not the custom to allow engaged
couples to be alone together. A warder, just as in prison,
had to be in attendance at all interviews. But where was
one to be found ? Aunt Jeanne would not do it, and they
would not have Aunt Chipie. My eldest sister was not to
be thought of. It was considered indecent that a young
girl should see lovers flirting. The governesses had two
days off each and went to give lessons in the town, and the
one who was left had to look after Bunny. Fortunately
Chipie had an idea.

“It’s quite simple—Nicholas spends his whole time
wandering from one room to another with nothing to do.”’

And I was chosen to look after the morals of the future

bride and bridegroom, The happy fiancé, with the inevita-
D50

ble bouquet in his hand, would appear regularly at three
o'clock, at the very moment when my masters left. My
sister would be covered with confusion and astonishment
on seeing the bouquet.

~ What a surprise!” she would say. ‘ What a lovely
bouquet! But really, I beg of you not to bring me any
more.”’

The fortunate man would smile tolerantly, stroking his
moustache. By degrees everyone would discreetly efface
themselves.

* What luck! At last we are alone !” and then it would
begin.

The two turtledoves would coo gently. She would dart
coy glances at him, blush, cast down her eyes, and begin
to stuff herself with sweets. He would play the gallant,
twirl his moustache and light a cigarette. They were
deliriously happy, I daresay, but how about me? Oh, how
bored I was!

By way of distraction I would admire the Mother of the
Gracchi in gilt bronze, who, heedless of the ticking of the
clock on which she was seated, made her sons swear that
they were ready to die for their country. I would gaze on
the Emperor Nicholas in his red uniform and blue riband,
putting on his glove. He had been trying to do so for
many years, but did not seem likely to succeed.

I would look about the room, every detail of which I
knew by heart. Prometheus bound was always twisted
with agony ; two Romans who were not the Gracchi were
also taking an oath under some trees which bore candles
instead of leaves. Then I would admire myself in the
glass, and decide that I was quite nice-looking, though I
had forgotten to brush my hair, Eventually, feeling sleep

FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM1847-1859 51
stealing on me, I would stretch my legs, scratch my neck
and begin to study the Romans again. Oh, those Rom . .
me tick-tock . , . their country .. . tick-tock . . . and
I would fall asleep.

What a lovely dream! I am happy, absolutely happy.
I have my own corner where I can work in comfort. The
bad times are over. I am sitting comfortably on the roof
of our house, writing on the chimney-stack! Chipie lies
at my feet, bound, like Prometheus. The Gracchi drop
their swords ; the Emperor Nicholas picks them up and
hands his glove to my father, who blushes and eats some
sweets . . . I feel myself suffocating, wake up and begin
to sneeze. Michael, seeing me asleep, has pushed a roll of
paper up my nose.

The result is that three hours are lost and I have done
no work. My tutor warns me that he is getting tired of it
and is going to complain to my father next time.

This will be to-morrow, as I find it impossible to work
again to-day, and the following would take place; the
tutor would complain, and Black Peter would tell me the
details of the interview, for he always kept me supplied
with any information that might be useful to me. At my
tutor’s first words my father, who hated prolonged discus-
sions of this kind, would interrupt by saying :

“ All right, we’ll whip him.”

But the master would protest and begin a long disserta-
tion on the principles of teaching.

‘It has been proved that such antiquated methods do

more harm than good,” he would say, and so on and so
on.

‘Quite, quite,’ my father would reply. “ Teaching is
your special subject, I know nothing about it. If you say52 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM
so, you must be right. All right, we'll follow your method.
Good morning.”

Then he would send for Chipie and my eldest sister.

“ The tutor says that we must use moral persuasion
with Nicholas. You are a sensible and practical woman,
my dear sister, and you, my child, are a mother to him.
See what can be done. I have other things to think about.
I rely on you.”

So they, or rather Chipie, to be precise, proceeded to
reform my bad character according to modern ideas of
dealing with children.

You might have thought that her first idea would be to
give me a table; but not at all, it was to forbid Niania to
see me. In this she failed. My nurse stated quietly that
she would continue to come as often as before. My aunt
could do nothing with the dear old creature. Then
Bunny was forbidden to talk to me and the governesses
were told to see that she obeyed.

I was never to see Bunny again, Bunny, whom I loved
more than life itself. I nearly died of grief. Then she had
another idea. I was to have no more riding: instead, she
took me to church twice a day, and I had to buy candles
at my own expense to induce the Lord to have pity on my
soul and give me a new one.

Bunny was lost to me. Michael had left for the Caucasus.
Only Niania remained. I loved her dearly, but she was
not able to understand. When she was with me I was
happy, but I had nothing to say to her. Iwas alone in the
world and indescribably unhappy. In the mornings I was
driven from room to room, then I had to suffer the re-
proaches of my tutor and the harsh nagging of Chipie.
My worst sufferings were at meal-times. I would sit1847-1856 53
nervously on my chair, not daring to raise my eyes for
fear of meeting Bunny’s. I was constantly in fear of Chi-
pie’s reproaches or an outburst of temper from my father ;
I could hardly eat or drink. My father had lately been in
a very bad humour. In the middle of dinner he gave the
butler a box on the ear, and everyone, including the major-
domo, trembled when they spoke to him. I, the culprit in
chief, trembled more than the others.

But by now I was able to conceal my feelings and to
control myself. I met Chipie’s attacks with placid smiles,
and that exasperated her. That was my way of taking
revenge. From being a pleasant, affectionate child I was
being converted into an evil and malevolent fiend.

One night, when I was unable to get to sleep (I had
suffered from insomnia for some time), I heard footsteps
in the passage. This surprised me. My elder sisters were
at a dance, Bunny and the governesses had been asleep
for some time, and my father and my brother never came
upstairs at that hour. It seemed to me all the more curious
as the steps were heavy and suggested that a burden was
being carried. I opened my door slightly. It was Black
Peter and another man carrying Sophie, who was pale,
limp—perhaps dead. Her mother walked behind her with
a little parcel covered with a linen cloth. Sophie was my
sisters’ principal ladies’ maid ; in the country she slept in
a room between their dressing-room and my father's.
Everybody in the house was fond of the girl and even my
father used sometimes to speak to her. She was gentle
and kind and remarkably beautiful. I was upset by
what I had seen; typhus was raging in the city and she
must have caught the infection.

Next morning I wanted to ask Black Peter about54 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM
Sophie’s illness but he failed to come to my room, as he
usually did.

I asked an old servant to send him to me.

~ He is hunting,” the latter replied.

“ Where ?”

He replied with a proverb: ‘“‘ He who knows everything
soon grows old. You would do better, batuishka!, to geton
with your lessons. There is thunder in theair. Be careful.”

Niania came in. She seemed to be furious.

 Niania, do you know, Sophie 4%

Be quiet.”

~ Has she got typhus ?”

What if she has got typhus ? Neither you nor I are
doctors. Whether it is typhus or anything else has nothing
todo with us. If you start chattering you'll only get
yourself disliked. Not a word about this, you understand.
Will you promise ?”’

At that moment Black Peter came in. Niania rushed to
meet him.

We always laughed when Niania whispered. It was no
use, she might just as well not have been whispering at all.

“Well ?”

~ She died on the way to hospital.”

What about the child ?”

~ It’s at the Foundling Hospital. The masters. . .”

~ Hush. It is not for us to criticise them.”

She went out and slammed the door.

I wanted to know more, but Peter, who was always
ready to joke, was not to be moved either. He spoke to
me with a gravity which was new to me.

~ Be silent as the grave. Neither you nor I know any-

*batuishka: commonly rendered “little father.”1847-1859 55
thing. It’s as much as our lives are worth. You know
my devotion to you and I am not a scaremonger.’’

Suddenly I understood.

The day was spent as usual. One would have thought
that nothing had happened. It made me quite ill, and I
loathed my father.

The next day, when I was watching over the engaged
couple, my father came into the drawing-room. He was
followed by a servant carrying a lot of parcels. My father
was fond of shopping and loved to display his purchases at
once. On this day he appeared to be in high good humour,
but on seeing me his face darkened.

“Tdling as usual. Why are you here ?”’

“He is carrying out Vera’s instructions,’ said my
sister.

‘That’s another matter. Bring me some scissors,
quickly.”’

“ You will find a pair on my dressing-table,
sister,

I ran off, but the scissors were not on the dressing-table.
At last I found them; when I came back I saw that my
father was annoyed at having been kept waiting.

‘Tdiot ! I believe you do it on purpose.”

I was disgusted at his injustice, but naturally I did not
dare to say anything.

He proceeded to unpack the parcels, displaying their
contents.

“ They’re all for you,” he said to my sister. “7ubis
comes from Paris and that comes from London. How do
you like them ? That’s a jolly bracelet, isn’t it? Do you
like this hat and the shawl ?”’

He took pleasure in the things himself and indeed they

”)

said my56 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

were charming. My sister was in the seventh heaven.
My father’s temper had changed; he was laughing and
joking ; I couldn’t understand it. Was it possible that
he had forgotten ?

My disgust increased in proportion to his good humour.
I felt a wave of indignation nearly choking me and I
found it difficult to conceal my feelings.

My father, noticing my distress, put his hand on my
shoulder and smiled.

“ Do you like these things too ?”

¢ No.”

I saw that he was on the point of losing his temper, but
he restrained himself. Then, turning to my sister, he
said :

“ We have made a pretty mess here. That’s enough for
to-day. We must clear it all up. Call a maid,” he said to
me.

I was just starting off, but I suddenly remembered the
girl who had been carried away yesterday and the thing
that had been wrapped in a cloth. Instead of obeying
him, I went up to my father and looked him Straight in
the eyes.

“ Well, did you hear what I said ? Call a maid.”’

Quite quietly, though my heart seemed ready to burst,
it was beating so hard, I asked him

“ Which maid ? Sophie ? She died in childbirth and the
child is at the F oundling Hospital.”

My father stepped back, coloured, then went pale,
raised his hand and struck me full in the face.
pe
He could not speak and he left the room.
When I had recovered from the shock my first feeling1847-1859 57
was: “I am going to fall.” I gathered all my strength
together and, straddling like a drunkard to keep my
balance, with only one idea in my mind, to prevent
myself falling, went almost subconsciously to my room.
“ Well, I have got here,” I thought, and I collapsed on to
a trunk. “‘ Where am I?” I wondered. I had lost all idea
of time and place.

Then I came to. Quite coolly and without hurry, fully
conscious of what I was doing, I went to the cupboard
where I kept my exercise-books, took one, looked for a
blank page and was going to pull it out, but it tore—it
was the last page. I looked through the other books and
at last found a blank page, which I tore out. In my best
handwriting, taking care to make the up-strokes thin and
the down-strokes thick, I wrote:

“ To Bunny and Niania only, but not to those who are
unjust and wicked. I love you and I despise them.”’

Then I read it over, altered a “j’”’ which looked like
an “],”’ put the letter on my pillow, fastened it on with a
pin and threw myself out of the window.

A sharp stab of pain . . . then I remembered nothing.

A light shone in the darkness. A shadow bent over me :
“Would you like something to drink ?”” Where had I
heard that voice? Memory began to return and I re-
gained consciousness. I was in my own room. A night-
light was burning under a green screen; Bunny, leaning
over a chair, with her head on my bed, was sleeping and
holding my hand. Niania’s eyes were fixed on me. I
tried to smile, and I gently stroked my sister’s hair.

“Let the poor darling sleep,” said Niania. “‘ Many a
night she’s been sitting up nursing you.”

Then I lost consciousness again.58 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

When I came to myself Bunny was standing in front of
my bed weeping.

“ She’s weeping for joy,” said Niania. “I told her
that you had recognised her.”’

I was a long time hovering between life and death,
sometimes unconscious and at other times lucid. As ina
dream, I used to see our old doctor feel my pulse, a dark
man with a beard whom I did not know put leeches on
my head ; and Black Peter brought me food. Bunny and
Niania were always by me.

Then one day the door opened and Chipie came into the
room with an unctuous expression. I shouted out :

~ Niania, Niania! Tell her to go away.”

» Go away,” said the old woman. ‘‘ The doctor ordered
absolute rest. Please go away.”

Chipie shrugged her shoulders and, with a resigned look
gave me her blessing and went.

‘ Horrid old wretch,” scolded Niania. I laughed.

~ He’s laughing, he’s laughing already,” shouted Bunny,
and she began dancing round the room. Niania wept for
joy.

“ Yes, he’ll get better now,” she said.

Then my father came in. As I didn’t want to see him
I pretended to be asleep.

“ They say he is delirious again,” he said.

~ You'll wake him, he’s gone to sleep,” said Niania.

~ We must send for the doctor.”

~ Quite unnecessary. He is out of danger, but please go
away, he must be left alone.”

“ This room is hopeless. He must be taken somewhere
else.”

“ Hush! You'll wake him.”1847-1859 59

My father sighed and went out on tiptoe.

As the doctor had said that I must not be crossed my
father had given orders that all my wishes were to be
carried out, whatever they were.

I had three requests to make: that Bunny should stay
with me during my illness, that when I got up I should be
given a table to work at and that neither my father nor
Chipie should come into the room. I don’t know how
Niania managed this delicate mission, but my wishes were
carried out.

Then the doctor allowed me to go for short drives, but
only at a slow trot. Black Peter was always on the box
instead of the footman. That was Niania’s wish “in all
matters affecting me the decision lay absolutely with
her.

One day Bunny told me that my brother, Alexander,
was going to get married. Oneof his fiancée’s brothers was
grown up and a groom of the bedchamber to the Empress ;
the other brother was about my age and at school in
Geneva.

“ The gentleman with whom he is boarding—his name
is David—is very kind and very just, remarkably just . . .”’
She blushed.

~ You have been told to ask me whether I should not
like to go there ?”’

~ Yes, but no one wants to force you.”

‘“ Would you come with me, Bunny ?”

She sighed. “I should very much like to, but it’s
impossible. Sasha is getting married and one day Vera
will get married too. Who is there to stay with poor
father ?”

“ Are you fond of him ?”60 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

She began to cry. ‘I am so frightened of him...
But I’m sorry for him. He’s getting old.”

I asked to be sent to Switzerland. It was decided that
Henselt,} who was going there, should take me with him.

I had not seen my father again since his visit. He had
frequently asked whether he could speak to me, but
Niania always found an excuse for putting him off. Then
he had left for Moscow, where he had business.

On the eve of my departure for Switzerland, as I was
coming down the main staircase to go and see Niania, I
met him. He had just arrived and was going up to the
first floor. We both stopped spontaneously. We were
only a few steps apart and as he was below me our heads
were almost on a level.

“ You're off to-morrow, aren’t you ?”

oy e> father:

‘ Have you packed ?”

> Yes. father.”

Have you nothing to say to me? Have you every-
thing you want ?”’

~ Yes, father.”’

A shadow passed over his face, but he remained impas-
sive. I realised that he was unhappy. I was moved almost
to tears and would liked to have thrown my arms round
his neck . . . but the memory of the past came over me.
I lived over again my own sufferings and those of so many
others. His caprices, his outbursts of temper and his
brutality—they all came back to me. No, I could neither
forget nor forgive.

I looked at him coldly.

t Adolphe Henselt, a famous musician.1847-1859 61

He too understood what was passing through my
mind. For a moment—an eternity—we stood thus, as
though petrified, seeking to plumb one another’s souls
with our looks.

“Yes,” said my father, ““ goodbye, my child.”

“Goodbye, father.”’

And, still impassive, he went on up the stairs. I made
way for him respectfully. He passed me without a glance ;
and I went down without looking round.CHAPTER II.

   
  
   
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  

1860-1864

I cAN hardly imagine anything more melancholy or
decayed than a village of serfs in the north of Russia. A
grey sky covered with still greyer clouds. On the horizon
the inky black outline of a pine forest. Low, dilapidated
log cabins, blackened with age and covered with rotten
thatch. A half dug pond. Barefooted men wearing coarse
canvas shirts and trousers, who bend almost double as
you pass. Dirty, underfed cattle; dogs that look like
skeletons.

After this there was something dreamlike about my
journey across Europe. Well-cultivated fields under a
bright blue sky ; little white, red-tiled houses smiling in
the sun, green trees, gardens full of flowers, hedges in
bloom ; clean chubby children, sleek well-fed cattle.

I wondered why all seemed so happy here and so
wretched at home.

Monsieur David was waiting for me at the station at
Geneva ; Henselt handed me over to him and continued
his journey.

David was hideous. He looked like a white negro. He
had thick red lips and fuzzy hair; in fact a face for the
gallows.

““ My house is rather a long way from here,” said David

“ but if you are not too tired we may as well walk. It
621860-1864 63

will save a cab. I never take one. We've got a turkey for
dinner to-day. My mother gave it to me for my birthday.
Hullo! there’s Marmillot. An odd fellow but good-
hearted.”

He spoke to me as to a friend from whom one has
parted the day before. That put me at my ease, and the
house too had an air of simple friendliness. My room was
small and simply furnished, but it lacked nothing. I
particularly noticed a writing table.

Madame was nice looking and very simply dressed ; she
seemed kind and gentle. A small boy and two little girls
gazed at me as though I were an ogre about to devour
them.

I smiled at them. Fifi, the smallest, gave a tiny smile
in return, then very seriously she came up to me slowly
and held out her hand. I kissed her; but seeing her
mother look astonished I felt embarrassed.

“I beg your pardon, Madame! Perhaps that’s not
allowed ?”

“Not at all. You are one of the family now. What
surprises me is Fifi’s courage. She is so shy. Fifi, you’re
not frightened of this gentleman, are you—his name is
Nicholas te

By way of answer the little girl put her arm round my
neck and leant her cheek against mine.

I found it hard to restrain my tears.

“Come, come !”’ said David. “I hope that we shall all
be friends soon.”

The other boarders came up and David introduced us.
They consisted of two English boys, Harry and Charley,
who were older than I: they both grinned and said simul-
taneously, “‘ How do you do?” They nearly crushed the64 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

bones in my hand as they shook it. There was a young
Turk with eyes like a gazelle’s who wore a large diamond
ring on his forefinger, and a lad with prominent cheek-
bones whom I recognised at a glance as a fellow country-
man. He was my future sister-in-law’s brother

“ You know him, don’t you ?” said David.

"NO, sir: *

‘Why, you must ! He comes from St. Petersburg.”

“ St. Petersburg is a very big city, sir,”

“No matter. So is Geneva, but people always know
each other slightly here. Well, now we're all here. Let’s
sit down. Aha! boys, we are having turkey to-day. My
mother sent it me from the country.”

And we sat down.

“Do you drink red or white wine, Nicholas ?”

“T used not to have it at all at home, sir.”’

“Oh, I know. You Russians never drink anything but
vodka at dinner. But I’m afraid you can’t have that here.
It’s not the custom, and besides it’s unwholesome. You
must be satisfied with the thin wine of the country.”’

The idea that we drank spirits at meals seemed so
funny to me that I burst out laughing. I would never
have dared to be so disrespectful at home. I was already
becoming a republican.

My new life started from the next day. I went to school
in the morning and when my work was done I could go
for a walk wherever I chose. On Sundays and holidays we
went for excursions to the mountains, or went riding or
sailing. David allowed us complete liberty, and never
interfered unless it was absolutely necessary.

He was neither clever nor particularly learned, but he
had been born and brought up in a free country where1860-1864 65
for centuries men had been respected, whatever their
origin or age; where everyone was equal in the eyes of
the law. And his personality was coloured by the general
standard of civilisation in the country. We were soon
friends. He trusted me completely and I hid nothing from
him. My masters were satisfied with my progress at school,
while at home I was liked by David and the children
adored me. I was happy, for I no longer disliked anyone
but loved the whole of humanity.

Time passed ; three years slipped away and the child
became an adolescent. I often found myself thinking of
my country, of the Russia which in the dimness of my
childish memories seemed so delightful yet terrible to
me.

I was aware that the country was now becoming en-
lightened. Serfdom had been abolished, and Alexander II
was doing great things. I dreamed of doing my share in
the work of this great reformer, of living for the good of
my country. The illusions of childhood gave way to the
illusions of youth. Childhood was merely the past.

It is generally assumed that youth and love go together,
and that to speak of one’s youth without mentioning one’s
first-love affairs is absurd. That may be, but when one
is sixty-five years old, as I am, one likes to have one’s
ideas clear, and to know what one is talking about. Defini-
tions of what is called “‘ love ” are so different ! Thousands
of books have been written on the subject and yet we get
no nearer the truth. However, I suppose I must conform,
irrelevant to my theme though it may be.

My first love was a young English girl (Americans were
not yet invented), pretty, as all English girls are—when

they do not happen to be ugly. The British never do any-
E66 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

thing by halves, and their daughters are either hideous or
charming.

Her name was Mary ... or Emmy... or it may
have been Alice—I cannot remember now, and in any
case it does not matter. She did not really appeal to me
more than any other girl, but she arrived, just at the
psychological moment, when I was ready to fall in love.
That is how things generally happen. Besides, she was my
best friend Harry’s sister, so that it was all very natural.
It was a friendly duty.

I need hardly say that I never spoke of my love to Kitty.
A young girl is sacred! And besides I was afraid of injur-

ing her in some way . . . women are such fragile crea-
tures ! Too burning a love might have made her consump-
tive, like Héloise or “‘ La Dame aux Camélias.”’ Such

things, alas, happened only too often, according to the
books. In those prehistoric times we were still old-
fashioned. Young men and women did not slap each
other on the back then.

I opened my heart to Harry, however, having first made
him swear never to betray my secret.

He looked favourably on my suit, and it was understood
that until I was of age the matter should remain a secret
between us. But where love is concerned these wretched
women have a nose keener than that of a bloodhound.
They can pick out by instinct from a thousand others, the
poor fool who is ready to sacrifice his life to them—and
Sophy understood. On the eve of her departure, she sent
me a lock of hair in a pink envelope, inscribed “ for
ever.” Six months afterwards she married a Scotsman,
and I have never seen her since.

If this story is not to your taste, I can tell you another1860-1864 67
one. I have a whole stock of first loves to offer. But I warn
you this will be the last, for the subject is far too stale.

One day when I was in the riding school, a lady, fol-
lowed by a group of men, appeared in the gallery. She
had rather a full figure, deep, black, languorous, Oriental
eyes, and hair with tawny glints in it. She was distinction
itself.

The men who were with her were also distinguished-
looking, with the exception of one who was rather too
handsome, too well-built and too well-dressed for a man
of breeding.

I was completely bowled over. I saw that she was
aware of it, and she watched me for a moment and seemed
to smile.

After this encounter she filled my thoughts com-
pletely, and I could neither eat nor drink. One morning I
was walking along the lake on my way to Ferney. The
heat was terrific and I went into the garden of a little
café to have a glass of beer. Suddenly I saw them at a
table, the lady and the “‘ too handsome ”’ man. I already
knew who they were—she was a Russian lady of high
rank, the wife of an important Court official, and he was
a celebrity of the hour.

She stopped me in the hall.

“You're Russian, aren’t you,” she said. “‘ You are so
like a friend of mine, Baron Michael, that I had to speak
to you.”

“He is my brother, Madame.”’

“ T thought so. Sit down and let us talk about him.”’

But it was not a success. I was confused, while she was
thinking of something else.68 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

Her companion seemed annoyed, and drank giass after
glass of wine and chewed his cigar.

‘I suppose you’re drawing comparisons,” he said in
an undertone with a sneer.

She blushed.

Oh, well, a bon-bon is quite pleasant after a square
meal.’’ And she rose. “‘ It is time to go back.”’

She turned to me, saying: “‘I am staying at the Hotel
des Bergues. I am always at home in the evening. We
can talk about Russia. Do come and see me.”

~ Don’t forget,’”’ said the man with his ugly smile.
’ The Countess is quite alone in the evening. I am busy
at the theatre.”’

I went there the next day. I found her with her hat on,
just going out.

~ How unfortunate! One of my relations is passing
through Geneva and I must meet her at the station.”

And she suddenly raised her head, gazed into my eyes,
while her lips found mine. I became wildly excited.

“No, no! Go away now! Come to-morrow.”’ And she
vanished.

I spent the night re-living the moment and the day in
counting the hours. I wasn’t seventeen. You may be sure
I was punctual next day. She was sitting in an armchair
reading. She received me as though nothing had hap-
pened ; but I could see from a scarcely perceptible twitch-
ing of the lips that she was disturbed.

There was a knock at the door.

‘What a nuisance! Come in.”

It was David.

“Please excuse me, madam, but a relative of this1860-1864 69
young man, who is my pupil, is seriously ill and wants to
see him.”

“You'd better hurry,’’ said the Countess, “ and when
you write to your sisters remember me to them.”

We went home in silence.

“ Nicholas,”’ said David the next day, “ I’ve noticed the
state you’ve been in during the last few days, and this
kind of thing is bound to end ina catastrophe. So I had
to intervene. You see, my dear fellow, a man who is not
chaste is absolutely done for.”’

The remarkable thing is that the good fellow firmly
believed what he said.

And now I have done with this subject. Let us pass to
other matters.

By the last year of my time at Geneva I was a fully
fledged young man ; and for the first time I was treated
accordingly. I was introduced to some very interesting
people. Alexandre Dumas and Princess Metternich made
the most vivid impression on me. It would be foolish to
try to add to all that has been said of the former. A good
deal has been said about the Princess too, but she was
generally only known superficially and such knowledge
was unfair to her. Many years later I had the honour of
enjoying her friendship and had the opportunity to appre-
ciate this extraordinary woman at her true worth. She
was the strangest and most complex being imaginable.

Those manners of the gutter which were adopted by
society during the Second Empire, not only in Paris but
in all our capitals, were first made fashionable by her.
She was the darling of Paris and worshipped in Vienna.
When she appeared in the Prater everybody would sing
the popular catch :70 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

S’gibt nur a Kaiser Stad,
S’gibt nur a Wien,

S’gibt nur a Wiener Mad,
Metternich Paulin. }

She was red-haired and rather ugly, but charming; a
great lady to her fingertips, but a good sort ; sensitive,
discriminating and well read; she was well versed in
political questions and could give sound advice on serious
problems; in her odd way she would make the wisest,
most profound and most comic remarks; she did her
utmost to seem like a cocotte, or rather the great cocottes
made prodigious efforts to copy the Princess. But they
were useless. There was only one person in the world in
the least like that extraordinary woman, and that was
Pauline Metternich herself.

I was introduced to her and she kept me to lunch.
During the meal she said some quite shocking things,
which to her great joy and that of the other guests made
me blush; she made epigrams worthy of Chamfort and
made wise and profound remarks which provided food for
thought. It was a real display of fireworks, a mixture of
wisdom and folly. Then we went for a stroll. As we.were
going along the rue du Rhone she remembered that she
had a note to leave. I knew where the person lived and
offered to show her the way. The others waited for us
downstairs. The stairs were dark, winding and slippery.
They were not easy to go up, and still less easy to come
down, and we were rather a long time.

tThere’s only one Imperial City,
There’s only one Vienna,
There’s only one Vienna lass,
Paulin Metternich.1860-1864 71

‘‘ Well, you have been a long time ; we can guess what
you've been up to,” said one lady.

‘“Vou’re wrong,” said the Princess. “ Why, this inno-
cent did not even make an attempt on my honour. It’s
disgusting. I might be an old hag.”’

‘“My natural respect. . .”

‘Respect indeed! Let me tell you, young man, you
must shew respect to women in public—that is essential—
and drop it when you are alone with them. Mere politeness
requires that you should.”

I called on her next day and, finding her alone, I thought
it my duty to be polite. She was indignant and her indigna-
nation was perfectly genuine.

“ But I am only carrying out your instructions, Prin-
cess. You gave me the idea.”

She laughed. ‘“ Gave you the idea! Why, my dear sir,
I only say that kind of thing for the benefit of my women
friends and not for my own. You may be sure that if
I had meant it I should not have had to say so. Anyhow
I’m rather like a clock winder ; I set the works going but
I don’t work myself.”

I was more interested in my fellow countrymen than in
anybody else I met at Geneva. About 1863 Geneva was
over-run by them. The Russia of Nicholas I was a prison
from which it was impossible to escape without His
Majesty’s personal permission; so that the Russians
whom we met in Europe in his time belonged exclusively
to the ruling class; they were the legendary ‘“boyars ”
whose riches, luxury and grand manner made such a
sensation.

When Nicholas died the frontier was thrown open toFROM SEREDOM 10 BOLSHEVIS™M

72
all, and, especially after the troubles in Poland, Europe
was introduced to a type of Russian very different to that
to which it was accustomed. The Nihilists were the most
striking. Their menfolk had hair down to the shoulder,
while the women’s hair was cropped short, but whatever
sex they belonged to they were as a matter of principle
always slovenly, dirty and unkempt. The inference was
that one could not bother about one’s appearance when
there were more important matters to see to. Their mis-
sion was to preach a new gospel to humanity, though it
was new only to them, this “ new gospel’’ being as old
as the hills to everyone else—I am speaking only of
civilised people. It consisted partly of doctrines which
had long been generally admitted and were considered to
be dangerous only in Russia, and partly of paradoxes
which were out of date and almost forgotten. These
prophets were generally ignorant, though they had a
great idea of themselves. You had to applaud everything
they said. They regarded those who did not agree with
them as congenital idiots—and they did not scruple to
tell them so.

The Nihilist was a caricature of the “ intellectual,”
which was also a recent type. Up to this time there had
been no middle class in Russia ; it was only just in the
process of formation. Two of these intellectuals were
engaged to give me lessons; Monsieur Andrezev in Russian
literature, and Monsieur Daniloff in Russian history.

One gathered that Monsieur Daniloff had had to leave
Russia for political reasons. He had been too advanced
for the régime of Alexander II, that reactionary tyrant
who had been unable to keep up with the times.

‘ But it was he who abolished serfdom.”1860-1864 73

“A wonderful achievement. It should have been
abolished centuries ago. He should not have stopped at
that, he ought to have made the serfs the equals of their
lords.”’

‘“ What about the new law courts ?”’

“The judges aren’t all elected, but nominated by the
Government. It’s disgusting.”’

“He abolished the thirty years military service and
corporal punishment.”

‘He ought to have paid off the whole army. War is
an iniquity. He abolished corporal punishment, you say.
Why, my dear sir, all punishment should be abolished.
The so-called criminal is merely the victim of a society
that is badly organised.”’

He had an answer ready for every point I raised.

His knowledge of history was rudimentary—if that—
apart from revolutions. He held that revolutions alone
were the vehicles of progress.

Being good-looking and a good talker, he was soon
popular in the Russian colony and had a host of pupils.
He made money, went to the theatre and to fashionable
restaurants and in the end ran away with one of his pupils,
the daughter of a wealthy Moscow business man, taking
her mother’s diamonds with him. Why shouldn’t he ?>—
Proudhon had demonstrated that property is theft.

Thirty years later I saw Monsieur, or rather to give him
the title he had acquired, His Excellency Daniloff. He
was one of the most influential members of the ultra
reactionary party and held an important post. I reminded
him of his former beliefs. He replied in Latin, as was
appropriate for a supporter of classicism: “ Tempora
mutantur nos e mutamur in ilhs.”’ He was a smart fellow.74 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

Andrezev was plain, poorly dressed and diffident. He
lived in an attic and sometimes went without his dinner.
But he was an honest fellow who would have suffered
martyrdom for the cause. He did his utmost to make a
convert of me. But he did not succeed. Even at seventeen
I was too mature for that. So was Fifi, who was only six.
As I have said, a country’s civilisation colours the outlook
of the young as well as of the old. Nevertheless, in spite
of the difference in our opinions, we became friends.

I have several times since met people of these two types.
The Daniloffs turn their convictions to account, become
the leaders of political parties and often achieve their
ends. The Andrezevs are dupes and foot the bill.

The day before a holiday, Andrezev, very much excited,
came to tell me a great piece of news. Bakunin, the great
Bakunin, was in Geneva. He was to address a meeting
at Carouge in the evening.

We went to the meeting. The room was packed. French
emigrants, Italian emigrants, Russian emigrants—the
discontented of every country under the sun were there. I
had the honour of being introduced to the great man
before the meeting. He kindly consented to say a few
words to me and I perceived that great revolutionaries
are as subject to petty vanity as grocers. Then he went
on to the platform.

What he said was neither very intelligent nor very
logical—but the eloquence with which he said it : what
enthusiasm he inspired! It was impossible to resist him
and to remain unmoved. The man was a born revolu-
tionary. I am sure that if he had succeeded in making
himself president of a republic he would immediately
have set about his own overthrow. He carried his audience1860-1864 75

away with him. All the Russians left the meeting with
him. As we passed an eating-house Bakunin paused.

‘“ Let’s have something to eat.”’

There was some hesitation. Most of them were poor
devils without enough money to pay for a meal. Bakunin
saw what was the matter.

‘Of course I’ll pay. No false shame, my friends. I’ve
been through it myself. It is more disgraceful to be rich
than to be poor.”

We went in.

“What will you have, gentlemen ?”’

With the diffidence of the needy, one ordered a half
portion of cheese, another a small black pudding. But
our generous host protested.

“No, no! We must have a feast to-day.

And he ordered the best dishes available.

Then raising his glass he shouted: ‘“‘ Down with the
tyrants! Long live the revolution !”’

And we clicked glasses again and again. It was dawn
when he asked for the bill. He took out his pocketbook,
searched in it and burst out laughing.

“Citizens ! The state exchequer is lacking in funds and
must levy an internal loan. All contributions will be
repaid to-morrow in gold or silver, according to taste.”’
And everyone gave whatever they had.

Nobody was repaid. Bakunin, in the manner of the
truly great, forgot this trifle.

Eventually I took my degree. I was going back to
Russia to spend some months there before entering the
University of Berlin, where I wished to complete my

studies. I felt very sad at leaving the place where I had
been so happy, and yet I looked forward to being happier

+)76 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM
still in the place to which I was returning. I had said
good-bye to my friends and my trunks were packed.

On the eve of my departure I met Bakunin.

‘“ Would you take charge of a small parcel for a friend of
mine ?”’ he asked.

» Gertainls.’”’

The only thing is, you'll have to smuggle it past the
customs. ”’

" Ican do that legally. I have been promised an official
permit.”

“ Excellent.”

I was just about to start for the station when I saw
Andrezev. Iwas astonished, as we had already said good-
bye.

~ Haven't you a parcel that you’re taking for Bakunin?”

(ese

~ He has asked me to bring it back to him. He has
changed his mind.”

I handed it over.

I learned later that Andrezev had lied tome. It wasa
bundle of pamphlets and Andrezev was anxious to save me
from getting into difficulties, as indeed he probably did.
Another quite young man, called Diakoff or Diakonoff—
I cannot remember exactly—was less fortunate than I.
He was caught with a parcel on him at the frontier, and
exiled to Siberia.

The train whistled . . . a last goodbye . . . and the
delightful days at Geneva were also a thing of the past.CHAPTE Ke Itt
1864-1867

In order to understand what happened in the empire of
the Czars from the time of Alexander II until Russia’s
collapse, which we are now witnessing, we must go back a
little. History is not a series of isolated and independent
phases, but a continuity. Each phase is the outcome of
the past and one of the determining causes of the future.

It is generally accepted that Peter the Great changed
the face of Russia and transformed a barbarous country
into a civilised nation. But this is open to question.
Russia possessed a certain culture long before the time of
Peter the Great, a culture, it is true, that was Byzantine
rather than European. Peter created a regular army and
a navy, brought his people into touch with Europe and
introduced certain industries. Apart from that he was an
anarchist rather than a reformer. He destroyed the old
order without setting up anything in its place. The new
Russians, turned by him into Europeans, or rather into
European clothes, so that they wore suits instead of cafe-
tans and three cornered hats instead of fur caps, remained
what they were, Orientals. Only the upper classes leit
the ways which had hitherto been those of the whole
nation, to follow the European tradition. The people re-
mained where they were, and a gulf was formed between
7778 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

the upper and lower class which nothing has succeeded
in bridging since.

We then had the comedy of “ Russia changed into
Europe.” During the eighteenth century it was performed
by lords dressed up as Dutchmen by Peter, as painted
marquises and free-thinkers by the empresses, and as
German corporals by Paul, Alexander I and Nicholas I.
The people, that is the greater part of the nation, took no
part in the show. They stayed outside the theatre. The
play was not being acted for them but for the pleasure of
the actors themselves, and especially to dazzle Europe.
And sometimes it was so well acted that the world was
taken in and mistook the sham for the reality.

But play-acting is not life, it is merely an imitation.
Progress is not achieved by Imperial decree, and does not
depend on the goodwill of a genius or on the whim of a
comedian.

Progress is the outcome of the needs and aspirations
of the nation itself, of society in the mass. Evolution
towards a better state of things is the result of a struggle
which is generally almost imperceptible, but occasionally
violent, between the privileged classes and those less
favourably placed. Where this struggle has not taken
place, progress is impossible.

In Europe the struggle between feudal lords and their
serfs gave rise to the establishment of the commoners, the
bourgeoisie. And the bourgeoisie became the principal
lever of progress.

In Russia, the bourgeoisie did not exist before the time
of Alexander II. There was the privileged class—the
nobility, and the peasants—either serfs or freed-men.
Between these two classes there was nothing. The nobility1864-1867 79
already possessed all the rights which they needed and
were satisfied. Kept fast under the yoke of absolutism as
they were, they solicited favours but did not attempt to
demand political rights. A few of them had done so, but
their fate had restrained the others from following their
example.

The peasants were an inert mass, large in numbers but
powerless, resigned to their lot and convinced that God
had ordained things so. Politically they did not count.
The elements essential to progress were missing.

The commoners only came into being after the emanci-
pation of the serfs.

The commoners were known as the Intelligentzia, a
designation which they themselves adopted. They
differed in many respects from the bourgeoisie of Europe.
In the Western countries the bourgeoisie possessed a
culture which was already old; they had had time to
develop and were ripe for the part which history had
assigned to them. Our Intelligentzia was merely the
product of vague aspirations which for centuries had never
materialised. The bourgeoisie had a definite objective—
the “ Intelligentzia’’ had none. They were tending in
some direction, but the question was, where ? And this
was a question that they themselves were unable to answer
clearly.

As yet immature, and without balance, they neverthe-
less possessed the ardour of youth, and were impatient to
play a part. They threw themselves into the fray and
from the beginning took the wrong course. Instead of
ranging themselves on the side of Alexander II, the great
reformer, they set themselves up against him, and instead
of becoming the lever of progress as they wished to do,80 nROM Sh RE DOM £O BOLRSH EV is M

and in the nature of things ought to have done, they
became a check upon it.

As is invariably the case after a war that has turned out
badly, Russian society after the Crimean campaign was
hostile, though merely passively so, to the government.
The majority of the nobility could not forgive the Empe-
ror for the abolition of serfdom, and the old serfs were
discontented too. They had hoped to be given all the
lands belonging to the lords and had only received a
minute portion as their share. And while they bore the
yoke of the tyrant, Nicholas I, without a murmur, every-
thing which emanated from his humane and liberal
successor was condemned by them. This opposition
was headed by the Intelligentzia. And Alexander II,
finding the path such a thorny one, stopped midway.
Disgusted with his own work, he began to disbelieve in
it himself, and, what is worse, ended by spoiling it. Fi-
nally, harried on all sides like a wild beast, terrified by
endless outrages, he no longer bothered about anything
but his personal safety, left the power of action in the
hands of men who abused it, and degenerated into the
mere shadow of a sovereign.

Yet at the time I was glad to get back from Switzerland
to the new Russia of which I had dreamed so much. For
one thing, it was no longer a case of travelling by stage-
coach, on bad roads when the horses were never there,
and one could never get anything to eat, but was eaten
oneself by bugs. A railway now connected the capital
with Germany. We rolled along in a Pullman which was
more comfortable than the European railway carriages.1864-1867 SI
It is true that the villages we passed through were more
dismal and wretched than ever, but the men looked
different to me. The moujik no longer bowed to the
ground at each passer-by. The people no longer had the
sleepy look of people who do not live but merely vegetate.
And St. Petersburg, too, was no longer the same as when
I was a child.

The town itself had changed very little, but the atmos-
phere was quite different. The soldiers were no longer
like wooden soldiers, they no longer walked like auto-
matons, but like living beings. The artisans had given up
their striped dressing-gowns, and were dressed like every-
one else. Ladies walked alone, without their escort of tall
gold-laced lackeys. There were no more drunken and
filthy “‘ budotchniks ” with their useless and ridiculous
halberds, but policemen, who were less fierce-looking but
more useful. Blows were no longer exchanged in the
street, but people went about talking, laughing and
smoking. The streets looked more or less like those of
Europe.

But on the other hand the capital had lost its peculiar
character. There were no more itinerant pedlars, Tartars
in cafetans, moujiks in their red blouses, women swathed
in innumerable kerchiefs, and Italians cairying whole
shops full of plaster statuettes on their heads, all musically
crying their wares in different tones. Gone were the queer
crudely coloured shop signs which were so grotesque but
amusing ; a negro smoking a cigar nearly as big as him-
self{—a blood-coloured fountain gushing from an old
man’s arms. And the tailors’ advertisements—a group of
children, boys and girls, and underneath them the inscrip-
tion : ‘‘ Made here to order ’—they were gone too !

F82 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

My own people no longer lived in their former town
house, but occupied a flat in an apartment house. It
was old Tania, Sophie’s mother, who opened the door to
me. Everyone was in the country and she was left in
charge. The flat was quite unlike our old home, with its
cold and majestic vestibules. It was a pleasant apartment
and looked hospitable and cosy. The awful pictures of
classical subjects were gone, but I was quite touched to
find Nicholas.I still putting on his glove, and the Gracchi
still with their hands raised to heaven, swearing to die
for their country.

Tania told me what had become of our old servants.
Big Jean had taken to drink, and others, including Paul,
Pierre and Nicholas had gone the same way. Alexander
and Jean and his brothers changed masters almost
daily—sometimes they went of their own accord, some-
times they were dismissed. The women were still worse
off. ‘‘ I shouldn’t like to tell you their profession,” said the
old woman.

‘How sad it all is. They were such nice people.”’

She sighed. ‘‘ Liberty, batiushka, has turned their
heads.”

‘‘ But liberty raises men, Tania, it doesn’t make drun-
kards of them.”

‘“That may be true of wise men, but not of ignorant
creatures like us.”

I started for Terpilitzy the next day. What a journey
it was, with its delicious memories. The fields that
stretched as far as the eye could reach, the ancient
forests that I had seen so many times in my childhood.
How often I had played in these gardens, so silent and
deserted now.1864-1867 83

But how changed everything was. The manor houses
had a decayed air which denoted only too unmistakably
their owners’ absence. The pretty ponds were overgrown
with weeds, the hedges were neglected.

The household was still asleep when I arrived. As my
carriage drew up to the entrance, the door opened and
a strange servant appeared and informed me that the
baron was at Yamburg, and asked me to wait until the
ladies were up.

Then Niania appeared at a window. She did not recog-
nise me at first, but when I shouted, just as I used to do as
a child, “‘ Niania, dear Niania !”’ she ran up and threw her
arms round my neck.

Later, a pretty and graceful young girl came out,
laughing and crying at the same time. Could it be pos-
sible ? It was Bunny! Then came my eldest sister, Aunt
Jeanne, followed by her pugs, and the old servants who
had stayed with us. But only the old ones were there,
all the younger ones had gone for good. Black Peter was
out hunting.

The whole day was spent in talking about the past, in
questions, and in cries of astonishment. My eldest sister
complimented me on having changed for the better.

“You must admit that you were rather a dreadful little
boy.”

Bunny and I exchanged a smile, and I agreed.

The next day Bunny begged me to go and meet my
father, who was due back that day. He was at Yamburg,
attending quarter sessions, of which he was chairman.

This journey too was full of memories and, alas, of
disillusion! Again there were beautiful forests, but
spoiled by wanton cutting down of trees, fine properties84 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM
falling in ruins, villages more wretched than ever. But
to judge by the number of drunkards that I met, the men
were happier than before.

My coachman—an old friend of mine who had taught
me to ride when I was four years old—was a great talker.

‘ They say, batiushka, that you saw some fine sights
abroad. Do you see such a fearful lot of drunkards there
as you do here ?”

“Very few. Why are there so many here ?”’

“Oh, it’s simple enough. At one time, the peasants
thought that a good harvest depended on the dampness of
the soil, now they think it depends on the dampness of
the throat, so they keep moistening it. But it’s not much
good, to judge by their fields.”

‘“ The landowners’ fields don’t look much better.”

“Who would be bothered to look after them ?”’

‘“ Their owners of course.”’

“The landlords? They’ve got something else to do
now. They’ve gone abroad to drink waters to improve
their digestions, and to see the Paris women walking naked
about the streets. Neither landlords nor peasants care
about the land now.”’

“ Hello, a new road.”

“ Yes, but I’d rather bring you by a by-road. We'll
come back this evening by this new road. I wouldn’t like
to be in the Ispravnik’s' shoes to-night. My word, no!
He’s in charge of the work, and he’s had his palm greased
so often that the contractor has no money left to buy
gravel.

“ And why do you think this evening—”’

1 Ispravnik—a little lower in rank than the under-sheriff. At this
time the Ispraynik was still elected by the nobles.1864-1867 85

~ Why, because the old barine’s' coming this way to-
night for the first time. Oho! After your father’s
blessing, the Ispravnik will become orthodox again.
The baron knows how to bring heathens back to the fold.”’

I found my father in his office. The sessions were over
and he was signing papers handed to him by his secretary.
He also did not recognise me at first.

“Oh, it’s you.” And he gave me his hand to kiss.
* Just a moment while I sign these, and we'll have dinner,
and then start back. You must be famishing. How
amazingly like Michael you are.”’

He said all this as though we had parted only yesterday.
The past was forgotten.

We dined at the club, rather a primitive place, but we
got an excellent dinner. The conversation turned on the
memorable sitting of the St. Petersburg zemstvo at which
the speeches of Deputies Platonov and Kruse were loudly
applauded. The meeting was dissolved by the Emperor’s
order, and all the deputies were accused of high treason.
The next day the sitting of the Imperial Council could not
take place, as a number of their members, and amongst
them the Governor-General of St. Petersburg, Prince
Suvorov, were among the accused.

The order was withdrawn.

“ They can do what they like,” said a man near me,
~ we'll soon get what we want.”’

‘“ What’s that ?”’ asked my father.

“Why, the Parliamentary system, as in England.
Only with a more liberal constitution. The English system
is a bit antiquated.”

“ T have not studied the English Constitution,” said my

1Barine—master, lord.86

father. ‘‘ I was educated in a cadet corps, so what can
you expect ? I know less than you do, so I cannot say
whether it is antiquated or not. But last time I was
abroad I saw a machine at Manchester which worked so
well that I bought one. However, it was impossible to find
men here capable of working it, and in the end they des-
troyed it.”

“We shall find them,” said my neighbour.

“Oh, yes,” said my father, ‘as many fine talkers as
you like. We have enough and to spare of those—and
men with theories too. But theories and speeches won't
make anything work. For instance, we have been looking
for months for someone to replace our dead friend, and
nobody will fill the vacant post, and the country is suffer-
ing in consequence. Come, gentlemen, one of you must
sacrifice yourselves.’

There was silence—and then, one after the other, they
all disappeared. My father sighed.

“ It’s always like that. They want the devil and all, and
when they’ve got it they don’t know what to do with it.
Come along, the carriage is here.”

I had not seen my father since the abolition of serfdom,
and I was interested to see how he was taking things. |
expected to see a man who had lost his bearings, and who
found it difficult to adapt himself to the new order of
things which was so different from the old. I knew that he
was most enthusiastic about the reforms undertaken by
the Emperor, but I was quite unaware of how the new
state of things had affected him. He was no longer the
same man. He seemed to have thawed; he talked,
laughed and behaved almost heartily.

We talked of the day’s sitting.

FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM1864-1867
‘““ You remember old Count Jean ?”’ asked my father.
‘Yes, of course. He must be pretty old now.”

“Poor fellow. We put him under arrest to-day.”

“What for ?”’

‘He boxed his valet’s ears. An insult is punished by a
fine—a blow followed by an arrest. That’s the law.
Perhaps it’s a bit severe, since we've been accustomed to
striking people all our lives. But it must be put a stop to,
and it’s all the worse for those who won’t understand that.”

There was a jolt, and then another one. We were on
the new road of which my father was so proud. It had
been due to his initiative that it had been constructed.
And as the zemstvo had not the money for it, it had come
out of his pocket. The Ispravnik followed us in a troika*

Another bump !

“Coachman, stop !” shouted my father.

The carriage stopped.

The Ispravnik tumbled out of his vehicle, and ran up,
with his hand to his hat, as discipline demanded.

“Wait,” said my father. ‘‘I’m coming back in a
moment.’’ And he got out of the carriage.

The coachman turned to me.

“Look out! The baptism’s just going to take place.”

My father strode along, stopping every few moments
and tapping the road with his stick, and then walking on
and gesticulating.

“ Look out !’”’ repeated the coachman.

My father went on with his performance, the official
kept on explaining, and picking up bits of gravel which he
shewed to my father.

And suddenly—I could hardly believe my eyes—my

1 Troika—A carriage drawn by three horses.

8788

father raised his stick and a rain of blows descended on the
Ispravnik’s back.

“ That’s the way,” cried the coachman, laughing.
‘ He’s a good Christian again now.”’

My father got back into the carriage.

“ Drive on !”

The carriage went on for a bit.

“Stop, coachman !”’

We stopped again.

The Ispravnik tumbled out of his carriage once more
and ran up, but this time he halted prudently at a
respectful distance.

‘Please come here. Nearer! Nearer! Damn it all,
nearer than that !”

The man turned pale but obeyed.

“‘ Now, sir,” said my father, “‘ you know that blows are
prohibited by the new laws. You can’t even thrash a man
who takes bribes. So you’re at liberty to lodge a com-
plaint.”

FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

”

» Your Excellency. . <

“Please hold your tongue when I am speaking. You
can make a complaint. Rest assured that I shall not
attempt to exonerate myself, and I trust that the judges,
who I believe to be fair minded, will find me guilty.
Good day, sir. Drive on, coachman.”’

The carriage went on.

“The scoundrel!” said my father. ‘And yet he’s
energetic and intelligent—an excellent tchinovnik (State
servant) on the whole. When he drops the habit of taking
bribes he’ll be perfect. Bribe-taking, just like beating, was
one of the customs of the country, you know, an_ one1864-1867 89
always returns to one’s old habits. Yes, indeed, we're a
pretty pair.”’

The next day when I went into my father’s study, I
stopped in astonishment. He was indeed a changed man.
A little creature like a Chinese idol sat on his shoulders
and was banging him on the head, probably mistaking it
for a tambourine. My father seemed to be perfectly
happy.

“But he’ll stun you !”’ And I offered to take the baby.

‘Leave him alone! Aren’t they delightful, these little
darlings ? I’ve always had a soft spot for small children.
Only I never suspected it before. The régime of serfdom
stifled all feeling in us.”’

‘‘ Where did you come across the little creature ?”

“Why, he’s my grandson, Loulou. Don’t you know
that your sister Nasha arrived this evening ?”

That day we went round the estate.

‘T’ve made some reforms too,” said my father. “ I’ve
only got twelve carriage horses in the stables now, and
five saddle horses ; one for myself, two for your sisters,
and two for visitors. It’s quite enough. Nobody comes to
the country any more. The kennels are done away with,
the hot-houses are shut up, and there are only eight gar-
deners left. Manners change with the times. You've got
to put a check on your fancies nowadays.”

“What is that new building ?”’

“Oh, that ? That’s an error of judgment. It’s a school
which I gave them. But they won’t send their children
there. According to them, education is all right for the
rich ; the poor don’t need it. They don’t yet know what's
good for them.”’
~ It will come eventually.

>,go FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

“ Perhaps so. But they won't find fools like me ready
to give things to them, and the Government won't do so
either. They’ve already got the notion that there’s danger
in education. But I hope I’m wrong. One sees the blackest
side of things as one gets old.”’

The village which was so clean formerly (there wasn’t
its equal in the whole district) was just like all the others
now. The beautiful birches along the sides of the roads
had been cut down, the little gardens were gone, the
thatched roofs which had been so well kept formerly, now
looked like bundles of straw from the stable litter. My
father sighed.

‘I no longer have any say in this. It belongs to them
and they are their own masters.”’

A group of peasants approached with their caps in their
hands.

‘ Well, lazybones, have you got your hay in yet ?”

The peasants scratched their ears—the Russian’s
method of answering when he doesn’t wish to say yes or
no.

~ If you had been working instead of spending yesterday
and the day before in getting drunk on the excuse that
your neighbours were having a holiday . . . there’s no
doubt about it, I didn’t beat you often enough in the old
days !”’

The moujiks laughed. “‘ But, batiushka, that wasn’t
what was the matter.”

“ It seems it was. You'll end by dying of hunger.”

“ Oh, but you would come to our help. If we have no
bread you'll give it tous. You are our father. . .”
‘Indeed I won’t. You ought to be ashamed of1864-1867 QI
yourselves. You won’t even look after your own welfare
any more.”

‘“ That’s true,” said one of them. “ Since we were set
free we have been lost. Completely lost.”’

‘“T know you,” said my father, “ I’ve only got to look
at you to see what a fox you are. Now look here, Serge,
do you also think that liberty is useless to you ?”

“Tt all depends. For the idle, yes ; but for the indus-
trious, no. His lot is much better than that of the serf.”’

My father clapped him on the shoulder.

‘Well said. I was glad to see your new barn. You'rea
man. But why didn’t you rebuild your stable at the same
time ? It’s falling to pieces.”’

“T haven’t got the wood. Intime...

“T’ll give you the wood. Call in at my steward’s. But
on one condition, and that is, when you are mayor of the
village—and you will be—give these lazy dogs a good
beating.’’ And the peasants laughed.

‘ This man Serge seems a good fellow,” I said, when the
moujiks had gone.

“Good fellow ? No, he’s a ruffian like the others, As
treacherous as the devil. But he’s a man that works and
doesn’t drink, and that’s the kind we need in Russia. A
beautiful soul is of no use in itself, my dear boy. You can
have a beautiful soul and be worthless, and vice versa.
Now, look at this fellow who’s coming up. That man’s
worth his weight in gold.”’

A little springless cart, such as the pedlars use, came
along at a trot, drawn by a well-fed, well-groomed horse.
It was driven by an old man with a white beard, wearing
a cafetan.

3392 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

“ Good-day, Jean Petrovitch,” my father called out to
him.

The old man stopped his pony, handed his reins to an
urchin beside him, got down, and holding his hat in his
hands as a sign of respect, approached with the dignity of
an Oriental.

“T give good-day to your Excellency Georges Egoro-
vitch. I give good-day to the young barine.”’

My father held out his hand to him. I could not remem-
ber him.

“What good wind brings you this way ?”’

‘“T’m on a tour of inspection.”’

“ How is the bridge getting on ?”’

“ Slowly—but quite well. But I’ve insisted on their
changing three defective girders. The bridge will be all
right. But the road! It’s an absolute disgrace.”

“T know, I know,’’ said my father. ‘‘ I’ve seen it ; but
it will be put right.”

“ Do you think so ?”’

“We've already had a talk with the Ispravnik.”’

The old man smiled imperceptibly.

“Tf you’ve talked to him, it will be done.”

“Oh, yes,”’ said my father. ‘‘ The Ispravnik is a very
intelligent man. A hint is enough for him. It will be
re-made. How are things with you ?”’

“ Oh, not bad.”

“Thanks to yourself. The others don’t do anything.

“ Petr Petrovitch is in very poor health. . .”

“ His health’s all right when it comes to enjoying him-
self. He’ll have to be replaced at the next election. But
where are the men to be found? If we had one or two
more like you it would be all mght.”’

3)186 (abt 8 6 a 93

“ And if we had men like your Excellency at the head of
affairs, it would be splendid. But if I stay here talking to
you I shall be late. Please excuse me.”

My father gave him his hand, and he went. I asked who
he was.

“ A simple moujik, formerly a serf. Now he isa member
of the Uprava. He’s really the only one who has any
business to be there. Yes, indeed . . . There’s enough
material among the Russian people to achieve anything.
But . . . westilllack men. Among the nobility, yes .
there are a few here and there. But on the whole they ve
had their day. The people . . . they’re still children.”

‘““ What about the Intelligentzia ? ”’

‘ They’re an absolute curse! They’re demoralising the
country with their extreme theories, which the people
cannot understand. They have more knowledge than
many of ourselves, they’re more active and perhaps mean
well, but they have no patience and look on evolution with
horror. Revolution is a fixed idea with them. To them,
revolution is not a means but an end. Oh, don’t let us talk
about them, it makes me ill. The devil take them. The
poor Emperor! He thinks only of his people's welfare.”

I stayed in Russia until the autumn, and then I went to
Berlin.

These months which I spent in the new Russia gave me
an impression which I cannot describe. A new era had
begun. Serfdom, which is an obstacle to all progress, no
longer existed, but its abolition had not yet had the results
which one was entitled to expect.

Neither the lords nor the former serfs could keep pace
with the new order. The former, accustomed to forced
labour which cost them nothing, thought themselves94 EROM SERRE DOM LO BOLSHEVIs™M

ruined, let their land go to the devil, turned everything
they could into money by cutting down their woods whole-
sale, and by selling their property to speculators who did
not buy with the intention of working the estate, but held
it in the hope of a rise in land value.

The serfs, trained in obedience, and as yet incapable of
looking after themselves, used their liberty to have a good
time and to drink as much as they could hold. Meanwhile,
agriculture and the land fell into decay.

The Russia of the past had vanished, and that of the
future was yet to come.CHAPTER IV
1867-1872

AFTER graduating as a Doctor of Philosophy, I went,
before I returned to Russia, to say good-bye to the famous
Professor Pirogov, who also lived in Berlin. He asked me
what career I intended to adopt. I said that I was going
to take up work under the Ministry of the Interior.

“For what reason ?”’

“Why, to serve my country.”

He laughed. ‘‘ My dear fellow, how innocent you are!
Be careful never to say what you said out loud or you'll
be made fun of. Government servants are of no use to
anyone but themselves.”’

I asked the advice of my brother Michael, who was
already a general, and on the Staff, and had just been made
governor of a district in Poland.

“So you're going to be a quill-driver ?” he said. “ It’s
the stupidest of all jobs. There’s only one possible career
in Russia—the Army. Once you are a general you can
become what you like—an archbishop, if you feel inclined
to. It’s absurd, but there it is.”’

“ That’s all going to change.”’

“Let us hope so. But meanwhile, it’s the only advice
I can give you. I’ve never been a tchinovnik myself, but
I'll introduce you to my deputy—an insipid fellow, but a

95g6 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEViSM

tchinovnik to his finger-tips. He'll tell you where to make
a start.”

The man of whom my brother spoke so irreverently was
M. Goremykin, who became President of the Ministerial
Council under Nicholas II, and who was celebrated for his
ineptitude and lack of savoir faire.

I met him at dinner at Michael’s house on the same
day. Prince Stcherbatov, Governor of Kalisz, who was on
the Staff with my brother, was also dining there. M.
Goremykin gave me all the necessary details, but the
more he talked, the less I knew what I ought to do.

‘What a set they are!” said the Prince when my ad-
viser had gone. ‘‘ If you ask a tchinovnik the time, he'll
tell you how time was first measured, how watches are
made, and will give a lengthy description of the various
ways of constructing them—but never, never will he tell
you the time! You want a job, do you? Well, come to
me as attaché to the special mission. The post is just
vacant.”

“And what would my duties consist of, Prince ?”

‘How shall I put it ?” said the Prince. ‘‘A governor,
especially in Poland, is like a castaway on a desert island.
It’s not exactly deserted but it’s the same thing. If the
governor comes into too close contact with the natives, he
gets eaten by them in the end. So Robinson Crusoe needs
a faithful Man Friday to act as a go-between, between
him and the savages. You would be Man Friday, and there
you are.”

To be brief, I accepted.

Poland had been quiet for some years then, but the
state of siege still continued. It must be admitted that the
policy of the Russian Government in Poland was neither1867-1872 97
wise nor practicable. It tried to arrive, by means of force
and violence, at a result which could only have been
achieved by justice and a wise administration. Instead of
winning the country over, our methods exasperated
it.

The Viceroy of the former Kingdom of Poland was
Marshall Count Berg, a shrewd fellow as sly as an old fox,
with the manners of the eighteenth century. He was a
perfect diplomat, and knew better than anyone else what
could be done to reconcile Poland to Russian rule. But he
had the ultra-Russian chauvinists of Moscow against him,
and he hedged, seeking to maintain a policy of concilia-
tion but abandoning it whenever he felt it dangerous to his
career.

My Robinson Crusoe, Prince Stcherbatov was also a
man of parts, but he was without balance, and allowed
himself to be guided by his whims rather than by his
common sense. He was without principles, or rather
boasted of having only one: “to have no principles.”
When he managed to reach a certain position he never
knew how to maintain it and generally ended by getting
into some scrape from which influence alone would rescue
him, still alive although somewhat battered.

He was a good fellow, though difficult to get on with.
He was always ready with a joke, and easy to live with
until a time arrived when one had definitely had enough of
him. The Poles loathed him and he returned their feeling
with interest. He considered it a point of honour never
to make any advances to them, and this made Count
Berg beside himself with fury. In consequence there were
continual passages at arms between the Viceroy and the
Prince.

G98 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

After each altercation, Stcherbatov would be meekness
itself for a few days—and then he would begin again.

One day when I was in the room where the Prince
usually held interviews, an old lady came to ask for a
permit to leave the country in order to go and see her son
who was ill in Paris. I gave orders for the necessary papers
to be got ready and was bringing them to the Prince to
sign, when he came into the room.

“What can I do for Madame ?”’ This was said in Rus-
sian.

“T came to beg your Highness,” said the lady in French,
‘to be so gracious as to give me permission to leave
Poland.”

‘First of all,’ answered the Governor in the same
language, “I am not your Highness, but simply Prince.
Secondly, I am never gracious. Thirdly, I only listen to
Russian.”’

He bowed and went out.

The poor lady was ready to weep. I told her that there
had probably been a misunderstanding, asked her to wait
a moment, and went in to the Prince.

He was immovable.

‘These dirty Poles think that they can win me over
with flattery, do they ? She knew perfectly well that I
wasn’t a Highness. And to dare speak to me in French and
not Russian ! What impudence !”’

‘First of all,’ I said, “‘ this lady has no means of
knowing whether you are a Highness or not. Secondly, she
doesn’t know Russian. Thirdly, I believe she will get her
passport all the same.”’

“We shall see about that.”’
“ She'll go to Count Berg and he'll certainly grant it.1867-1872 99
You have acted according to your convictions, and he’ll
act according to his, and there you are !”

“No, hang it, I won’t give the old brute that satisfac-
tion. Give me the papers and may they choke her.”’

My duties as “ attaché ” to the special missions seemed
to consist in doing nothing. In the morning I read the
Princethe foreign newspapers, which abused him violently,
later we dined together, and in the evening played “ bac ”’
or went to the theatre. Finally I got bored with it, and
as the Prince would not give me anything to do, I applied
to his chancellor. He had never been a tchinovnik either.
He was a clever man, a country neighbour of the Prince’s
who had gaily run through his patrimony and had taken
service while he was waiting for an inheritance from an
aunt, who according to his calculations, was soon due
“to kick the bucket ’’—to use his own words.

“You want to work ?” he said. “ How odd! Don’t
you know that a civil servant who works is a lost man ?
There are only two kinds of civil servants, you know.
There are the needy, who do the same job day after day,
and end by being good for nothing else. Then there are the
gentlemen, who don’t do anything, but conserve their
mental faculties and in a few years become State Council-
lors, and who can get anything they want, if they know
how to go about it. You must choose.”

“But I am here for special missions.

“When we have any special missions you shall be given
them.”’

“ But there are hardly ever any.”

‘The attaché for special missions is meant to be orna-
mental, not useful.’

Soon after that I was sent on a special mission. I wasI00 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

sent to the frontier to meet a Bishop who was on his
rounds.

Then one day when the Princess, her husband and I
were in his office, the chief of police arrived to make his
daily report. Among other things he mentioned a scandal
which had taken place in the evening at the theatre,
which was owned by the State.

“Since the director’s death, goodness knows what's
been happening. May I beg you once more, Prince, to
POW iva. 3s

“Very well, very well,” said the governor. “ Thanks,
that’s all right.”

‘May I hope, Prince, that it will be done soon ?”

“Certainly, certainly,” and he held out his hands.
“ Good-bye.”

The chief of police saluted and went away.

“He is a tiresome fellow, always worrying me about a
director for the theatre,”’ said the Prince. “ It’s becoming
an absolute bore.”’

“ But why do you keep putting off making the appoint-
ment,” asked the Princess. ‘‘ He has been talking to you
about it for months.”’

“T have promised the post to a man on whose behalf
I was approached by a very influential personage.”

‘Well, why not nominate someone else while you are
waiting ?”’

“Now that’s an idea. Baron, you can take his place. I
appoint you.”

“Oh, come!” said the Princess. ‘‘ At his age—nobody
will take him seriously.”

“Won't they indeed, we'll see about that. I'll make
these cursed Poles shake in their shoes in front of him.”1867-1872 IOI

And he immediately gave orders for the producer and
his stage manager to come to him the next day. Then
turning to me he said :

~ I shall expect you sharp at ten o’clock. But put on
your uniform. You look too young in mufti.”’

The next day he told me to await in the adjoining
room, leaving the door ajar and summoned the two Poles.

At this time a governor was all powerful in Poland and
the inhabitants were only too well aware of it. The
Prince began to storm at them and the poor wretches were
soon more dead than alive.

This soothed him.

~ This time,” he concluded, ‘I shall not be hard on
you. But this is the end. You are going to have a director
who... .’ and he was off again.

According to him I was a man that even he could not
trifle with, a man who had grown old in this kind of
work, a man who .

And, opening the door, he said, “Come in, Baron, if you
please.”’

And instead of an ogre with white hair, there appeared
a lad whose beard had hardly begun to grow.

“ Baron I am going to give you carte blanche. You are at
liberty to dismiss anyone. It will be forbidden for anyone
to go behind the scenes who does not belong to the staff.
I will shortly indicate other measures for you to take.”’

When the managers had gone he began to laugh.

“ Did you see what a funk they were in? Only your
baby-face nearly ruined the whole scene !”’

‘And the measures . . ?”

“Give me a rest! Just keep everyone away from the
stage door, and be the only Sultan in the harem.”102 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

Then taking my arm, “ Come and have lunch, you old
polygamist.”

Some days later, as I was leaving the room, he said :

‘By the way, do you know that the Colonel of the
Hussars is furious with you ? He complains that he can't
go behind the scenes any more.”

“And what did you say to him ?”

“I promised to speak to you about it.”

‘“ But, Prince, it was your own wish.”

““ Yes, yes, but try to fix this up. I don’t want to havea
row with him. He isan A.D.C. to the Emperor.’

‘Tf we make an exception for him, everyone .. . *~

“You're quite right. Let nobody in. Nobody. And
don’t mention it again.”’

The Colonel returned to the charge, and I refused to
admit him. He appealed to the Prince and came back with
a permit. I gave orders for him to be admitted, and asked
the Prince to relieve me of my duties as director.

‘But why? I’m very pleased with you.”

“ The feeling is not reciprocated, Prince.’

He laughed.

“ You forget, my dear boy, that we're living in Russia,
not Switzerland, and here we have to go with the herd.”

“JT don’t see any need to, if one is a man and not a
beast.”

“Well said. You’ll get the reputation of being a man of
independent principles if you make replies like that.
Only—I’m really fond of you and wish you well—they
won't help you to get anywhere. One respects men of
principle, but one avoids them.”

“T don’t want to get on at all costs, I want above all to
serve my country.”’1867-1872
He chuckled more than ever.
“ Good lord, how young you are !”

?)

“I don’t see that age...

“Oh, yes, I know, I know. ‘ The worth of a noble
character is not measured by years!” It’s a fine sound-
ing line, but its absolutely ridiculous. If you have a
noble character you ought to be a soldier and not a
tchinovnik. A man of high character in the Civil Service
is an absurdity.”

I began to believe it myself after a time, but I was not
yet certain about it, so I went on waiting for “ special
missions.”” At last, one night, I was woken up and sum-
moned to the Prince's presence.

“A gendarme has been assassinated in the town of
Kola,” he told me. ‘A state of siege exists, the affair
will be brought before a court-martial, and the enquiry
will be held by the military authorities. But, as the mur-
derer may be a civilian, a representative of the civil
administration must be present. The man I had intended
to send is ill and you will have to go instead. See that
everything goes smoothly. The old ape (this was his usual
name for the Viceroy) is anxious on this point and keeps
bombarding me with telegrams. You must start at once.
I give you forty-eight hours to settle the matter—Good-
bye and a pleasant journey.”

I did not delay, and I was on the spot in a few hours.

The accused, who had already been arrested, was a
Pole who knew hardly a word of Russian. He obviously
did not understand the questions which were put to him in
Russian, and answered them at random. When the inter-
rogation was at an end, I was handed the protocol to sign.104 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

“T don’t believe,’ I said, “ that this man has under-
stood our questions properly, and neither have I quite
grasped his answers. It is essential that an interpreter
should be sent for. It is impossible for me to sign his
deposition like that, especially as he can’t sign it himself,
since he can’t write.”

“ We have no interpreter at hand,”’ said the officer of the
police, “‘ and anyway, I understand Polish more or less.”
And he signed the paper.

eebut 5

“IT understand your scruples, and theoretically you
are quite right. But you can conscientiously rely on my
experience. I am accustomed to this kind of affair. It
would waste endless time to wait for an interpreter, and
the Viceroy himself wishes the business settled as quickly
as possible.”’

~ But this man’s life depends on it! If he should be
innocent. . 47

~ You've only got to look at him to see that he’s guilty.”

“ His looks aren’t evidence.”

You insist then ?”

Tes.

~ It will mean delay.”

~ I'm sorry. It’s impossible for me to sign otherwise.”

~ Very well. There’s only one thing to be done. We
must postpone it till to-morrow and get an interpreter.”

And we parted.

I received a telegram from the Prince that night. The
man whose place I had taken was better: I was relieved
of my mission and ordered back at once.

When I got to Kalisz, I made a detailed report to the
Prince, but he interrupted me, saying :1867-1872 105

“T know, I know. The officer of police told me about it.
There’s no doubt at all, my dear boy, you are still very
young. Formalities have their uses, but they can be
passed over at times. Come along, our partners are waiting
for us to play baccarat.”

Luck was against me that day and I lost rather a large
sum. As the players were always the same, we had got in-
to the habit of settling our accounts at the end of the
month.

I had a bad night. The result of my first serious mission
haunted me. Certainly the services I rendered to my
country were not those of which I had dreamed. It
might well be that the fault lay not so much in the career
that I had chosen, as in the fact that my chief was not
worthy of the post which had been entrusted to him.

I determined to talk it over with my brother Michael,
and the next day, having obtained several days leave, I
went to Warsaw, as I knew he was passing through
there.

At the club I met General Frédérix, head of the royal
police, who was a constant visitor at my father’s house.

He spoke to me about my chief, and about Kalisz, which
was going to the dogs, according to him.

“ Your Prince,” he said “‘ is certainly not in the odour
of sanctity as far as the Count is concerned. For instance,
the other day another of my gendarmes was assassinated
at Kola and the assassin, who was caught here at Warsaw,
confessed his crime, which, by the way, was unnecessary
as the victim’s belongings were found on him. And here
we have the Prince claiming to have found the guilty
man who, he says, has made a complete confession. That
seemed rather fishy to us, so the Viceroy sent one of the106 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

Generals attached to his personal staff to get to the
bottom of things.”

I was on the point of telling him what I knew about
this business, but I refrained. It would have looked like
giving someone away.

When I got back to Kalisz the first person I met as I
was getting out of the carriage was the Governor’s chan-
cellor. He gave me to understand that the Prince appeared
to think that my indiscretions concerning the affair at
Kola had got him into Count Berg’s bad books. He also
told me that the General, sent by the Marshal, had
arrived the night before and that the Prince did not seem
exactly pleased with his visit.

I went to the Palace and found him talking to the
General, whom I did not know but whom I had often seen
in the Countess Berg’s drawing-rooms and to whom, so
I have heard, the Count generally confided any delicate
mission.

When I came in the Prince paid no attention to me.
Then sharply breaking off his conversation he said :

“ What do you want with me ?”

o My lJeaveis up...”

~ When a subordinate reports to his chief he should
wear uniform.”’

I bowed and left the room.

Shortly afterwards one of the Prince’s orderlies came to
me.

* The Governor asks your Honour to come to him
immediately.”

~ Just give me time to change and I’ll come.”

‘ He asks you to come in the suit you were wearing just
now.1867-1872 107

‘Good. Tell the Prince that you found me changing
my clothes. Now, in consequence of his order that I
should come dressed as I was before, I shall have to
change again and that obviously will take some time.
You understand? Now, repeat what I’ve just said.
Excellent. You can go.”

I took longer than was necessary over dressing. Then
without hurrying, I went to the Governor.

When I came in the General gave me a friendly glance ;
the Prince appeared furiously angry but trying to keep
control over himself.

All the same he worked himself up as usual with the
first words he uttered to me.

According to him, His Excellency Marshal Count Berg
(he was talking of the old ape) was very dissatisfied with
the juniors. They didn’t work, there was a bad atmos-
phere about them, they even played games of chance,
which was expressly forbidden, etc., etc. In short, if he
was to be believed it was I who had set the bad example.

The General, taking advantage of a pause, diverted
his attention.

“May I ask you to introduce me to this gentleman,
Prince; I have seen him several times at Warsaw and his
brothers are friends of mine.”

The Prince did so and then, as if nothing had hap-
pened, handed me his cigarette-case.

“ Will you smoke? Do sit down, won’t you ?”’

We began to talk of trivialities ; but I was also furious.

“By the way, while I remember it,” as I took out
my pocket-book, “I am still in your debt.”

linmysdebt.2 You?”

“Yes, of course. I haven't settled my last baccarat108 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM
debt, that game which is prohibited by law, but which is
so popular in the best families.”’

And I handed him a bundle of notes.

The General wanted to laugh. But the Prince certainly
had no such desire.

I handed in my resignation the same day, but we
parted friends. The Prince was too light-minded to bear
a grudge.

In the Czarist Empire, as we know, virtue is always
rewarded. So that the signal services which I rendered
my country at Kalisz were not forgotten. A month after
I left Poland I was attached, again for special missions,
to the staff, not of a simple governor of a Province, but
to that of the Governor-General of the whole of Lithuania.
I had got on. I was now almost a personage in provincial
circles, if not in the capital itself.

This time the signs in my favour were propitious. My
new chief, General Potapov, who was aide-de-camp to his
Majesty, was the pleasantest man, or rather mannikin
(he was no taller than a curassier’s boot), whom one
could meet. Cultured, witty and agreeable, he was
completely devoid of feeling, a quality in a chief which is
not to be despised. He was always even-tempered ; with
such a chief there was no feeling of uncertainty, no
unexpected moods to be bargained for.

If you got on with him, his liking for you lasted.

It is true he would never expand like a pelican opening
its wings, but neither would he throw one over at the first
opportunity, unless it really paid him to do so.

From the time of the Revolution in 1863, Lithuania1867-1872 109
had been treated as a conquered country. It was in a
state of siege and so subject to the caprices of martial
law so that one could hardly realize that one was in
Europe and not in Asia.

Potapov’s predecessors, the fierce Muraviev and General
Kaufman, who imitated him, had thrown the country
into complete confusion. Potapov, on the other hand,
came there with the best intentions and fully determined
to put things straight. He set about his task with energy
and gave us plenty to do. At last I had enough work to
satisfy me.

Alas, it did not last long.

Potapov was before everything a courtier, and, observ-
ing that the wind was changing at court, he gradually
began to change sides himself. And the reforms which he
had inaugurated finally fizzled out.

He followed in the footsteps of the majority of Russian
statesmen and no longer thought of anything but remain-
ing in his master’s favour. Eventually, with his nomina-
tion to the important post of Chief of Police of the Empire,
he too obtained a sinecure.

I was no longer with him when this happened, but was
living as a private individual at St. Petersburg, where I
often visited him. In spite of our difference in age and
position we remained intimate friends. One day I asked
him what exactly his new functions were. He smiled that
bantering, yet sad, smile which was peculiar to him.

‘‘T have to poke my nose into everything and interfere
with nothing. Between ourselves, I really have only one
definite function ; and that is, to convey to the women on
whom His Majesty’s favour has rested the sums which he
is pleased to grant them.”FROM SE RE DOM IO Hots HEY LSM

ce

And are there a great many of these ladies ?”
‘ A fair number.”

“Society women ?”’

Very much so.”’

And they accept the money ?”

Accept it! They: extort it |”

Poor little man! Some years afterwards, while he was
with the Emperor in the Crimea, he suddenly went mad.
The last time I saw him he was dressed in his splendid
uniform covered with medals, with the ribbon of his
Order across his chest ; astride a wooden rocking-horse
and brandishing his sword he was charging a regiment of
Turks in cardboard set out in battle array on a table.

‘
ce

ce

I shall not dwell on my service in Lithuania. The
Russia of this epoch had already become a stagnant
morass, and to talk of a morass cannot be interesting to
anyone except to the frogs that live in it. Inany caseI do
not claim to be writing the history of my times, neither
am I stupid enough to be writing an autobiography. I
am not a man of note whose intimate life might be of
interest to the public, and neither am I one of those good-
for-nothing enemies or partisans of the old régime of
absolutism, who to-day try to make people believe that
they once played an important part in Russia.

Besides, when I began to write these random reminis-
cences, I had no intention of having them published.
I wrote them simply and solely to occupy my spare time
and to forget if possible the sad reality. Alone, old and
infirm, ruined by the Revolution, and a refugee in Finland
where I did not know a soul, the hours seemed like1867-1872 III

centuries to me. Then a friend had them translated
into Finnish and Swedish and brought them to the notice
of an editor. Some of them were published and had an
unexpected success.

I am putting all this down in order to explain why these
memoirs are written rather by fits and starts, why they
are sometimes discursive and sometimes sketchy, why in
fact they do not follow any rigid plan. I trust allowances
will be made for me.

I stayed about two years at Vilna. The life there was
pleasant and the people were charming. I retain the
pleasantest memories of it. But the inevitable came to
pass. I realised that, as things were, to be a tchinovnik
and to serve one’s country usefully were two things which
were incompatible—so I resigned from the Civil Service.
The sad realities of life had taken the place of the beautiful
dreams of youth.

It was considered almost a duty by the nobility to
serve the State, so that before deciding to leave the
Service I was anxious to obtain my father’s approval.

He did not make any objection.

‘“T quite understand,” he said. “ It’s a wretched pro-
cession. What a pity you didn’t go into the army instead
of wasting years studying all these sciences which are more
or less useless in Russia. I didn’t try and dissuade you
then because with you . . . well, because I made it a
rule never to impose my wishes on you but to let you go
your own way. By this time you might have been a
Colonel already, or at least in command of a squadron.”

A little while afterwards, as we were strolling along the
quay of the Neva, as was then fashionable, we met the
Emperor Alexander II. He recognised my father andII2 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

stopped to say a few friendly words to him. Then, happen-
ing to notice myself, who was standing at a respectful
distance, he asked who I was.

“My youngest son, Sire.”

‘But to let a fine fellow like that rot in the Civil Service
isasin! Heis made to be one of my Guardsmen.”

And he went on his way.

“What regiment do you think of going into ?” asked
my father.

‘But he’s decided that himself; the Horse-guards,”’ I
replied.

I did not hesitate for a moment. For one thing, there
was no disobeying my father when he made suggestions
in a certain way, and for another it was my reason alone
and not my personal tastes which had led me to take up
another career than that of the army. Our traditions were
all military. Our family had produced five Field-Marshals,
a number of Generals and officers of high rank—and
atavism is a force that has to be reckoned with. The
only thing that worried me was that I should have to start
as an ensign, which, at my age, was almost ridiculous.

I also wondered whether, having been educated abroad
and not in Russia, my degree gave me the right to become
an officer, not after a period of two years but at the end of
six months.

Happily my fears were unfounded. Count Shuvalov,
Chief of Staff of the Guard, reassured me on this point.

“What an absurd idea,” he said. ‘‘ Why, of course, in
six months .. . yes, certainly—in six months you will
be promoted. In any case, I’ll ask the chief of the section
in order to set your mind at rest.”

And he sent for him.1867-1872 113

‘“‘ Tell me, Colonel, what is the probationary period for
people who have been to the University ?”’

‘‘ Six months, General.”

“Tt was a German, not a Russian, University,” f said.

“Tt’s all the same.”’

‘There you are! Thanks, Colonel,’’ said the Count.
‘‘T have troubled you for nothing, but it’s always best to
be on the safe side.”’

But again I lost several months. My father died sud-
denly and as my brothers were away I had to deal with
all matters referring to his estate.

The Horseguards and the “‘ chevaliers-gardes,’”’ which in
the eighteenth century formed a single regiment, had
always been the two smartest corps of the Guard. Only
the cream of the nobility served in them, and to be ad-
mitted to them was considered a favour. The late Emperor
Nicholas I and his son Alexander II headed these regi-
ments and generally wore their uniform, while most of the
Grand Dukes were their officers.

They did me the honour to admit me. Our uniform or,
to be exact, our uniforms, for we had many of them, were
splendid. We had a tight-fitting red tunic with gold braid
for the Court balls, a green one with blue trousers for the
town balls and a green military frockcoat for dinners and
calls. Service dress consisted of a white cloth tunic with
gold braid, top-boots coming up to the knees and a gold-
plated cuirass and helmet ; on the crest of the helmet
was an Imperial eagle with outstretched wings.

Mounted on splendid horses with flowing manes and
tails, the men looked like an army of mounted giants. I

forgot to say that both men and horses were huge.
HTO BOLCSHEViIs™

 

II4 FROM SERFDOM

In spite of my age and my philosophy, when I first saw
myself dressed like this I was ready to follow the example
of my new comrades, who were less modest than myself,
and take myself, not for what I really was, but for a
superior being, a demi-god, a hero of the Middle Ages.
And, as can be imagined, my immediate circle looked on
me differently too. Even my valet, whose services I had
never made use of when dressing before, fussed about me
in a possessive way, strapping me up and pulling me about.
The first day I appeared in uniform my porter gave me
a bow almost to the ground and my old coachman, a
steady and sensible man, set off at a terrific pace as if the
devil were after us. And the police sergeants, instead of
taking him by the collar and laying information against
him, stood at attention. Undoubtedly an officer in the
Horseguards was a personage.

I was not an officer yet, but the majority of people took
me for one and in any case at that time it came to more
or less the same thing. The cadets of former times (later
the name was only used for those belonging to schools)
were not ordinary soldiers like the present-day volunteers.
They were only private soldiers in the barrack square ;
off parade they were the equals of officers. They dined
in the officer’s mess, they mixed with them in society, at
the theatre, in the restaurants, at the cafés. There was
nothing very terrible about being in the ranks under these
conditions. One just had to subsidize the sergeant-major
adequately and everything went smoothly.

The Colonel of the regiment, Count Grabbé, had been a
comrade and intimate friend of my brother Michael ;
most of the officers were friends of my childhood and the
rest were relations of mine.1867-1872 115

And as, in addition, I was a cheerful companion, a good
rider and looked like a soldier they decided there and
then that I was a man and not a miserable Philistine.

I, too, felt myself to be at home from the first. All
my new brothers in arms were, without exception, well
brought up, polite, correct and excellent fellows—or at
any rate, if not, they appeared to be so—which comes to
much the same thing in everyday life. Most of them were
pleasant companions on the whole and some of them were
even men of fine characters.

Nearly all of them made their way in the world. Of the
thirty or so young men who were there when I entered
the regiment at least half were taken afterwards into His
Majesty's household troops, the rest occupied other
important posts. How far they deserved their good fortune
I do not care to say. But they belonged to the Horse-
guards and that was enough.

The following is a list of those I remember who belonged
to His Imperial Majesty’s Household Guards :

Aides-de-camp of the Emperor with the rank of General:
Baron Meyendorf (attached to His Majesty’s person), A.
Strukov (Inspector General of the Imperial Cavalry),
Count Frédérix (Minister of the Court), Count Bencken-
dorf (Grand Marshal of the Court), Prince Vassiltchikov
(Commandant of the Corps of the Guard), Baron Alexan-
der Meyendorf (Commandant of His Majesty’s personal
escort), Prince Odoevsky (Commandant of the Imperial
Palaces of Moscow), Prince M. Galitzin (Marshal of the
Court of His Imperial Highness the Grand Duke Vladimir),
Maximovitch (Assistant Minister of the Court), Novos-
siltzev (Commandant of a Cavalry Corps).
Aides-de-camp to His Majesty with the rank of Colonel :I16 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

Kladistchev, Prince A. Lvov, Prince E. Lvov, Baron C.
Stakelberg.

In the spring we set off, headed by the band, for the
camp of Krasnoe-Selo, where the Guards, both cavalry and
infantry, stayed during the summer. The officers lived in
little cottages which only contained two small rooms. I
kept one for myself, in which there was hardly room to
move, and gave the other, which was still smaller, to my
old valet. Like everybody else, I only took my siesta
there, and hardly ever slept there at night. The day was
spent partly on horseback and partly in the mess, a vast
barrack consisting of a single high hall which served as
dining-room, library and reading-room all at once, the
arrangement did not worry the readers, since the library
consisted of various sporting journals, which somebody
always lost the first day they arrived, and of the official
gazette, which nobody ever read. As for other books,
there were none. No, I am wrong. One of the officers
possessed a novel by Paul de Kock, which everybody
thought delightful. But it had already been read and re-
read, and most of the pages were missing.

At dawn we were already in the saddle, and would
come in about one o’clock in the afternoon dead tired, have
a hasty lunch and go to sleep until dinner, which was a
real Balthazar’s feast, copiously washed down with
champagne.

Our chef was the famous Dussaux himself.

In the evening we went to the theatre, or perhaps we
went off to St. Petersburg, where we would have a good
time, and we would only return to camp just in time to
avoid being arrested.1867-1872 117

An intellectual would probably find such an existence
very distasteful, and in the long run I agree with him.
But nevertheless a soldier’s life has a charm which cannot
be understood by those who have never taken part in it.

First of all, in a regiment one no longer feels one’s self
to be an isolated being, an atom lost in the vastness of the
world, but part of a whole of a really tangible living
body—a regiment, which in its turn is an atom, an insepar-
able part of a whole, of a larger and mightier whole—the
army.

Formerly, before the system of compulsory military
service had been adopted, before we had an “ armed
nation,” to be in the army, whether as an officer or as a
private soldier, was a calling, a career, often even a voca-
tion. The soldier served twenty-five years, and the officer
longer still. For then the army was everything. It was
their world and there was nothing outside it. Soldiers and
officers, with the aid of tradition, became beings apart
whose thoughts and feelings were different from those of
the rest of mankind.

To them to obey was not an enforced imposition, but
something which came naturally. The flag was a tradition
stronger than one’s self, and to die, if it was necessary,
came naturally too.

When compulsory service was introduced this was all
changed. In peace time the soldier only stayed in the
army for a limited period, just long enough to learn his
drill, and too short a time to imbibe the military tradition
and to feel himself to be a real soldier. The feeling
of being a soldier only came to him in times of war, and
then only when the officers know how to inculcate it in
him. The officers themselves continued to serve for life,118 FROM SEREDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

or for as long as they wished, and carried on the traditions
of the flag and the military spirit—but they became the
sole repository of these traditions.

Neither the government nor the people understood this.

After the Crimean disaster in 1855, the government
treated the officers (I am only speaking of the officers of
the line and not of the Guard) very brutally. They were
badly paid, badly housed, and at the mercy of their
superiors. They lived miserably from day to day without
any prospect of promotion, and without any hope of a com-
fortable old age. They were looked down on by society and
the intellectuals despised them as useless and worthless.

According to them the officer was an idler, a sponger
who lived on the State, an ignorant fellow who brutalised
the soldier and put harmful ideas into his head.

It is quite true that the officer had his faults. There
are spots on the sun, but that does not prevent it from
shining and giving light to the earth. The “ intellectuals ”’
only wished to see their faults, and deliberately shut their
eyes to all their best and noblest qualities.

Great and noble qualities they certainly showed,
wherever the flag called them. On the plains of Manchuria
and of Eastern Prussia, in the heights of the Carpathians,
in Galicia—wherever it was their duty to die.

And even to-day, in our suffering but unconquered
Russia, treacherously stabbed in the back by her enemies,
betrayed by her own children and forgotten by her
allies, mocked by the intellectuals, the principal agents
of Russian disaster, will fight on to defend the honour,
if not the life of the country which gave him birth. And
the standard-bearer of these men who are slandered by
the Intelligentzia, is, I am proud to say, an officer of the1867-1872 11g
regiment in which I once served as a common soldier, a
guardsman—my own son.

I did not speak idly when I said “‘ a common soldier,’
because, instead of being promoted to the rank of officer
as I expected, I became a common soldier. But before I
speak of this I must relate one or two incidents which
agreeably interrupted not the boredom but the monotony
of camp life.

One day the Grand Duke Vladimir told us on the quiet
that he was coming to our mess unexpectedly the next day
without our being supposed to know, and was bringing
one of the German princes to dine with him. The Teuton
had been boasting of the splendours of the mess of the
Prussian officers in the German Emperor’s Household
Guard, a regiment that has the same uniform as ours ; the
grand Duke proposed to take him down a peg or two by
showing him how the Russian officers lived.

Great excitement ! The Prussian needn’t worry himself.
He would see what we could do!

We ordered a whole conservatory of hothouse flowers
from St. Petersburg to turn our barn-like mess into an
earthly paradise, and a troupe of gipsy singers—as for the
wines and the dishes I shall not enumerate them, but
they were all that could be desired. At the appointed
time we were just about to sit down quietly to dinner
when to our astonishment the Grand Duke appeared with
the Prince.

We never dreamed of such an honour as this, and if their
Imperial Highnesses would care to share our modest
repast, we should be in heaven.

The Grand Duke, after a moment’s hesitation, gra-
ciously accepted, and we all sat down,

s120 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

The Princes did full justice to the meal, ate and drank
their fill, said a few gracious words to the gipsy singer,
pinched the pretty gipsy girls and then without saying a
single word to the officers went away.

Really that was more than we could stand! But our
Colonel, Count Grabbé, put a stop to the chorus of in-
dignation which was just breaking out.

‘Gentlemen, do not forget that we are speaking of His
Majesty’s son. Besides, you may take it from me you
won't lose anything by being patient.”

We knew our Grabbé. The honour of the regiment was
in good hands ; and we were silent.

It seems that the dinner wasn’t bad, because some
time afterwards the Princes announced that they would
come again, but this time officially. Grabbé called for the
chef. ‘‘ We will have two dinners to-morrow,” he said
“one at ten o’clock which will be as good as usual, the
other at seven. The seven o’clock dinner must be disgust-
ing and quite uneatable.”’

“TI must say that I have never tried to prepare a rotten
dinner, but if you make a point of it we will do our best,”
said the chef.

“ Do please, I am relying on you.”

Dessaux as usual surpassed himself. You should have
seen the Grand Duke’s face. But he understood and was
particularly gracious to every one that day.

It is true that the Grand Duke Vladimir had not the
manners of a polished aristocrat. He was intelligent but
ill-mannered. One day a lady who was talking to him
addressed him as Monsieur instead of Monseigneur as was
customary.1867-1872 121

“My dear lady, I am generally addressed as Monseig-
neur.’’

“Oh! I beg your pardon, Monseigneur,’’ said the lady;
“ T had entirely forgotten that you were not a monsieur.’’ +

Bad fortune like good comes when it is least expected.

One fine day a new law on compulsory service, or a
supplementary law, I don’t quite remember, was an-
nounced and published. Ensigns were abolished. Their
place was taken by volunteers who were to be treated in
exactly the same way as private soldiers. They were
no longer to wear epaulettes with broad gold braid which
deceived the uninitiated into mistaking them for officers.
They were forbidden to dine in mess, drive in a carriage
or go to restaurants, or to sit down in the presence of a
superior officer without his express permission. There
was a volume of penalties and not a single privilege.

As always happened in Russia they had gone from one
extreme to the other.

It is impossible for a person who did not live at that time
to have even an approximate idea of the dog’s life that we
led as a result of this law. :

There were not then as there are now rankers drawn
from every class of society, but only ordinary private
soldiers, moujiks straight from their villages. The simple
soldier was regarded and treated by the public, including
private persons, as an inferior and a rustic. The language
used towards us was not merely uncivil, it was coarse.
We were chivvied about, in fact we were déclassés. If we
wanted to call on our friends we had to walk miles, if we
wanted to dine we had to gotoa restaurant with a private
room and find our own cook. Even in society we were
liable to insults of a most extraordinary type. One day a

12.¢.,a gentleman.122 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

line officer who had just turned up from the provinces
ordered the volunteer Prince Dolgoruky to fetch him a
cab. The Prince, in duty bound, was obliged to doso.

A similar incident occurred to me. One day I was calling
on Countess—— whose name I shall not give. You will
remember her, she was my first love at Geneva. I was
introduced to her again at St. Petersburg. I say again
because the ungrateful creature had quite forgotten me.
We soon became friends. She was a charming woman
endowed with grace and tact beyond the ordinary and in
spite of her numerous adventures she was very popular in
society. One day I reminded her of our former meeting.
She looked quite surprised. ‘‘ So you were really in love
with me 2”

“You were my first and only love.”

She pondered a moment.

“What a pity the old man came in at such an awkward
moment.”’

“We can still put that right, Countess.”

“No, one should never make a lover of a friend. One
loses too much by it. Lovers can be picked up at any time
but real friends are difficult to find.”

I went on talking. As we were sitting there in the
drawing room an old general with a face like a bull dog
came in. I got up and stood at attention. The bull dog,
without paying the slightest attention to his subordinate
sat down in an arm chair.

“ But, General,” said the Countess, “ you ought to give
the Baron permission to sit down.”’

“ He can wait.”

The Countess rose and took my arm. Then, smiling
amiably at the old beast, she said, ‘‘ Excuse me, General,1867-1872 123
I shall be back in a few moments. I have got something
important to say to this gentleman and I don’t like
standing up when I am talking.”

We went into the next room and the general was left
alone.

Fifteen minutes went by and we waited, curious to see
what he would do. Eventually he went away. The Coun-
tess rang the bell.

“ Please tell the concierge that I am never at home to
the General.”’

Women were like that then.

Our colonel and also my former comrades made many
attempts to alleviate our lot, but they could do nothing.
Numbers of the ensigns in the Guards’ regiments handed
in their resignations. I held on in spite of everything. I
had only a few weeks to go and then it would be over ;
the convict would become an officer. But I was mistaken
as it turned out. One fine day—I remember it even now—
an army order arrived from the Ministry of War, to the
effect that in accordance with the new laws members of
foreign universities had no right to the privileges accorded
to members of universities within the empire, and that
therefore the volunteer Baron Wrangel could not become
an officer until he had served for two years.

No, this was not good enough !

Fifteen days later I was an ordinary civilian, but I also
enjoyed the rights of a private citizen again.

I made a final attempt to serve my country. I resolved
to take up a diplomatic career, which was certainly not
very logical. My aim was to be useful to my country, and
who has ever seen a useful diplomat ? Fortunately for me
and also for Russia probably, this enterprise of follyI24 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

simply served to provide me with a story. My uncle,
Alexandre Wrangel, aide-de-camp to His Majesty, the
well-known hero of the Caucasus who had captured the
Imam Shamil, mentioned me to the Chancellor who was an
intimate friend of his, and the Prince, who had known me
at one time, consented to take me on. I was asked to go
and see him and make my personal request.

His Serene Highness, Prince Gorchakov, Vice-Chancel-
lor and Minister of Foreign Affairs, was at this period at
the height of his glory and self-satisfaction. The glory did
not last, but his self-satisfaction lasted as long as he did,
and I am inclined to think that even to-day in his heavenly
abode he spends his time in self-admiration and a longing
to preside at all costs at a world-conference of nations.
Thanks to this self-love, in spite of his real intelligence, he
had the knack of making himself ridiculous. He admired
nobody but himself, talked of nobody but himself, and in
spite of his age thought he was irresistible to women and
posed as a Don Juan. They all made eyes at him, but
laughed at him behind his back. They were not alone in
their duplicity, for the men, excepting his principal
secretary, all acted in the same way. The principal
secretary, Baron Meyendorf, is worth a few remarks.
He was the Prince’s own nephew and he never lost an
opportunity of trying to make him look ridiculous. It
must be admitted that in this he was singularly successful,
for he had a very biting wit and was not over scrupulous
in attaining his object. His aim was, as you would hardly
guess, to be dismissed by the Chancellor. The fact is that
his uncle and chief had become a burden to him. But he
could not withdraw his dutiful services from him of his
own accord. He had promised his mother on her death1867-1872 125
bed that he would not leave him. And now he had found
a way out of the difficulty—to get himself dismissed. One
day they were dining with the beautiful Madame Yakunt-
chikov. The Prince asked Meyendorf, who was leaving for
Paris, whether he meant to see anyone when he was there.

“Certainly, Prince, I have several friends in the diplo-
matic service. Have you any orders for me ?”’

“No,” said he shortly. ‘‘ No, but say that you have
seen the lion in his den and that he is seeing to the preserva-
tion of the balance of power in Europe.”

“Certainly your Highness, I shall not fail to tell them
that I have seen the brute at home.”

His Serene Highness pretended not to have heard but
he meant to have his revenge.

“Tf you see Michael’’—that was the name of the
Prince’s younger son—‘ by the way, I have often meant
to ask you how much older he is than you.”

‘We are the same age, Prince.”

“ The same age ?”’ said the Prince, “ well he has got well
ahead of you, he is a chip of the old block. The same age,
and he isa plenipotentiary, while you are only a secretary.’

“T assure you, Prince, the fault is entirely mine, I
wasted years in study and he never wasted an hour.”

The avarice of the ‘‘ Narcissus of the Ink Pot,”
nephew called the Chancellor, was proverbial. He spent
whole days consulting his banker Frenkel, a well known
Jew, about their means of increasing his fortune. Malevo-
lent tongues said that Frenkel enabled him to make a

good deal of money on the Bourse.

One morning, at the time when the Prince granted his
audiences, I went to call on the lion in his den.
The Swiss porter told me that the Chancellor would not

as his126 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

see visitors that day, as he was expecting somebody with
whom he had a special appointment, but if I came the
next day I would be able to see him.

I was just going when another servant intervened and
said, “‘ May I ask your name ?”’

“ Baron Wrangel.”’

‘“ Please sir, come upstairs. His Highness is expecting
you.”

“ Are you certain ?”’

“Absolutely. I was sent downstairs to see that there
was no mistake. ’’

I went up quite pleased with myself. I was certain
that my uncle had succeeded in having this exception
made in my favour. I told him the day before that I was
going to see the Prince.

I certainly had an awakening as the door of the Minis-
ter’s room opened and the Prince came out to meet me
smiling and holding out his hand.

Then, suddenly stopping short he shouted, “ What
confounded impudence, daring to force my door when I
am not seeing anybody !’’ Then he turned on his heel and
left me quite crestfallen. The flunkey had confused
Wrangel with Frenkel whom the Prince was expecting
that day.

I thought it wiser to take no further steps in the
matter. And I did well. The Prince never condescended
to speak to me after that incident.

For years I had been living on my illusions, and now
that I had finally to give up the idea of public service
I felt myself at a loose end. A strong man, or even a man
who is not strong but simply obstinate, having once
chosen his path, follows it in spite of every obstacle. The1867-1872 127
question is whether it is weakness of character or common
sense. I leave it to others to answer—I am incapable of
doing so. If I makea mistake, I admit it at once.

I have walked in pleasant places which have brought
me nothing but disillusion. I have floundered in the
mud and dissipated my time and my money. I have been
a man of the world, a judge, a globe trotter and a farmer.
I have written books which have been stopped by the
censor and plays which the censor has also had the kind-
ness to stop.

Then one day in the depths of the country, as I was
crossing a bridge in my carriage (I did not yet know that
in my country bridges on country roads were made to
deter people from using them) the bridge gave way and
I fell into the water. Fortunately, or unfortunately as the
case may be, I was fished out and had to stay there for
several months in bed crippled with rheumatism.

I was quite alone, my only companion being my old
servant who was senile. My only visitor was the doctor,
who having lived in the provinces since prehistoric times
had lost the faculty of thinking or talking. I suffered the
agonies of martyrdom, but I look back upon that time
with gratitude. I recovered, pulled myself together and
came to understand the futility of things which formerly
had seemed to me to be indispensable to my happiness.

I found out, among other things, that happiness is not
outside us but within us, that life is beautiful in itself, and
that what I lacked was peace of mind and moral balance.

It was after this that I went into business. Possibly I
contributed somewhat to the industrial development
of Kussia. Certainly my sons have grown to be men more
far-seeing and useful to their country than I.CHAPTER V
1872-1895

THE opening years of Alexander’s reign saw the begin-
ning of renascence ; his last years saw the beginning of the
agony which lasted until the final collapse of the Russian
empire.

Absolutism and progress are principles that cannot be
reconciled. And since history will neither re-establish the
past nor permit things to go on unchanged indefinitely,
the form of government was bound, once the first reforms
had been instituted, to be converted from an absolute into
a constitutional monarchy or else to go under.

Neither Alexander nor his successors understood this.

Alexander II was neither a man of genius nor of great
personality. He was just a well-meaning person who
wanted to see his people free and happy, but did not
appreciate the extent of the task which he had undertaken.

Millions of men who, until quite recently had been
mere chattels, dependent body and soul upon him who
had bought them or acquired them by inheritance, had
become free men. The face of Russia had been com-
pletely changed. Society needed to be reconstructed
from top to bottom.

Reforms which had not been foreseen but which were
called for by the force of circumstance were undertaken

andcarriedinto effect. But one reform constantly involved
1281872-1895 129
another and the men who were needed for them were not
to be found. The nobility could only supply a compara-
tively small porportion of them, while the Intelligentzia
was only just coming into being, and, as I have already
said, took the wrong road from the first. They refused to
ally themselves with the reformers, preferred revolution
to evolution and assumed the leadership of the malcon-
tents.

For lack of men worthy of the task things drifted to the
bad. The opposition degenerated into terrorism and the
emperor’s life was constantly attempted.

The entourage of the Czar, which had always been
hostile to the reforms, although in order to remain in
favour they had played a double game and echoed his
sentiments, made the most of these incidents and worked
upon the emperor so as to make him see imaginary dan-
gers everywhere. They discovered conspiracies which were
really quite imaginary and succeeded in frightening him.

The poor man, reduced to a state of abject terror,
disgusted with the ingratitude of his subjects, weary of a
task which was beyond his strength, fell more and more
under the influence of women, who relegated his authority
to others, using him simply as a cat’s paw, and induced him
to vitiate the good works which he had carried through
when he was still a man and an emperor. The poor
emperor! If he had carried his task through to its logical
conclusion, he would have been a great sovereign, perhaps
the greatest history has known.

The successors of Alexander II were even less suited
than he to the role assigned to them by destiny.

His son, Alexander ITI, a man of vigour, though without

any other qualities, decided, in spite of what was obvious,
II30 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

to return to the past or at any rate to stop the reforms,
forgetting that the work which had been started by his
father had been left unfinished, and failing to realise that
a transitional state of affairs cannot last indefinitely.

His grandson Nicholas Il1—but we have seen him at
work, and it is unnecessary to speak about him.

Further progress was held up. The transitional state
was made permanent. Evolution stopped. In its place
we had the extremes of reaction and revolution. The
country was divided into two camps. ‘We,’ consisting
only of the government and its satellites, and “ they,” of
the whole of the rest of Russia, millions of men.

“We” knew everything; “ we’ could do no wrong,
and could even defy the laws with impunity on the quiet.

“ Théy ” were suspect. What “ they ” said was stupid,
what “they” did was harmful and what “ they” thought
was harmful. But “ they” were a negligible quantity,
riff-raff who did not count, whom it was only necessary to
keep on the leash.

Nobody troubled about the nation. The nation was
“they,” and “we” were strong enough to make them
obey.

On the other hand people pretended to be more con-
cerned than ever with ‘‘ Russia and her interests,” but
by this of course they meant their own interests, for
which the autocracy was a sure shield.

The chief and only concern therefore was to watch over
the safety of the sovereign and above all of the autocracy,
to conserve it in its primitive form and if possible even to
extend its power and exalt it into a divinity. And the
more absolutism shook in its foundations, the more we
tried to conserve it.« 1872-1895 131

The natural results were not long in developing. “ We”
gradually lost any sense of shame ; “ they ’’ became more
and more dissatisfied every day. Some of them made
every effort to hasten the coming of the revolution, but
others, from conviction or indifference, went back into
their shells and retired from public life. The field was left
free for intriguers for whom the country was simply a
milch cow to be sucked dry.

According to “us’”’ the policy which should especially
contribute to the security and the glory of the absolutist
system, and therefore conduce to the happiness of Russia
was “ Russification.”’ All the subjects of the Empire,
Tartars, Fins, Jews, Laps, Little Russians and Caucasians
—I should never have time to mention them all, but
either freely or forcibly all must be made identically of a
pattern. They must be “ Russified,” speak nothing but
Russian and join the Orthodox church if that could be
managed. And the good work was set in hand.

We have seen the result. The first thing that these
people did after the revolution was to separate themselves
from Russia. This “ Russification’’ sometimes took
grotesque forms. One day, I was accompanying General
Potapov, who did not approve of “ Russification,”’ but
acquiesced in it, on a tour of inspection. We had dined
with the governor of Grodno, the Prince Kropotkin, and
were driving with a wholestring of carriages with the general
at the head, along a splendid road which had been specially
made for the passage of His Excellency.

Suddenly the general’s carriage upset. Potapov was
unhurt, but his coachman was a pitiful sight. He com-
pletely lost his head. Probably thinking that he would be
hanged he cried “‘ Mercy ! Mercy ! Spare my life.”’132 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

‘There, there, don’t get excited,” said the general,
‘nobody wants to hurt you.’’

But the coachman went on, ‘‘ I am Orthodox ; I ama
cook and not a coachman. Yes, a cook I am, and I’ve
never driven a horse.”’

“Poor devil,” said Potapov, “ he has gone off his head.
He thinks he is a cook now.”

‘Asa matter of fact, Your Excellency,’’ said Kropot-
kin, ‘“‘ he is a cook.”’

‘T beg your pardon, Prince, what did you say ?”’
‘“T said, your Excellency, that he is in fact not a
coachman but a cook.”

‘

“Tam more at a loss than ever.’

‘He is Orthodox.”

“T don’t see how that prevents him from being a coach-
man and forces him to be a cook.”’

“ The fact is, your Excellency, that it was impossible
to find an Orthodox coachman to drive you in the whole
town; there were only Polish Catholics and naturally
they were impossible.”

“Now I see what you are driving at. You naturally
thought it better that I should break my neck through an
Orthodox cook than that I should be properly driven by a
Catholic coachman.”’

To be a Jew was regarded as a crime, and to be a Pole
as a misdemeanour. Even the aristocracies of the non-
Russian nationalities were looked at askance, and were
actually less tolerated than Russian “ working men.”
They were subjected to every kind of humiliation, and
were accused of felony if they showed any sign of resent-
ment1872-1895 133

Autocrats, and their flunkeys the bureaucrats, are not
satisfied with being obeyed. They want to be loved.

Since the Revolution of 1863 the Poles had lost their
last remaining civil rights, and they were oppressed and
considerably molested by pinpricks which were often
more exasperating than blows. As far as they were con-
cerned the government was out to maintain the status quo.
No new vexatious measures were introduced. All that
was necessary had already been done. But for dealing
with the Jews and the schismatics of the Orthodox church
we reverted to methods more worthy of Tamerlane than
of an “ enlightened ”’ absolutism.

I say “ enlightened,” not because it was so, but because
the Russian government in spite of all evidence to the
contrary, prided itself on being enlightened.

Even in the time of Nicholas I the condition of the
Jews was intolerable. They were compulsorily confined to
certain provinces where they died of hunger and were
treated as pariahs.

The reforms of Alexander II left things very much as
they were, but the governments of his successors did
everything in their power to make the lot of the Jews
more terrible than ever. I quite admit that the Jews
in Russia are a bane and exploit those of the population
who are more ignorant than themselves. But the fault
does not rest with the Jews, but with the government,
who has confronted them with the alternative of dying
of hunger or of exploiting by every means in their power
the population of the districts to which they are confined.
Faced with this alternative, even a race of demi-gods
would probably choose to batten on their neighbours,
rather than to die of inanition.134 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

It is unnecessary for me to expatiate any further on this
subject the persecution of the Jew. It has been sufficiently
discussed in Europe. I would just like to state that the
‘pogroms’ that is to say massacres, of the Jews on a
large scale by the populace are a modern invention, to
which we are indebted to the reigns of Alexander III
and Nicholas II. They would not have been tolerated
in the times of their predecessors. The government, such
as it was, was at that time still a power which was able
to impose its will upon the lowest strata of the population
and to hold in check its servants and lackeys. It was not
merely an authority more apparent than real, a shadow
without a substance.

I was present at one of these horrible incidents. It took
place at Rostov-on-the-Don, a large port and business
city in the South of Russia. At this period, that is, if I
am not mistaken, at the beginning of the reign of Nicholas
II, “‘ pogroms ” were very popular. They had become a
feature of Russian civilisation. The Liberal press sug-
gested that the government itself fomented them. I
doubt it. The ‘‘ pogroms’”’ occurred not because the
authorities had an interest in them, but because the
government was not sufficiently intelligent to anticipate
them and was too feeble to control them. It was already
the victim of a creeping paralysis and lacked the necessary
vigour to deal with the situation. Pillage has an attraction
for any populace and especially for the Russians. The
people did not yet dare to plunder their landlords whom
they believed to be tyrants, and while waiting till circum-

stances should be more favourable, they contented them-
selves with plundering the Jews whom they knew to be
weak. Finding that they could do so with impunity they

extended their activities.1782-1895 135

I also doubt whether the cause of the “ pogroms’ was,
as the government definitely stated, hatred of the people
for the Jews. Hatred was the pretext rather than the
cause. The Russian people had no hatred for the Jews
nor for anyone else. They are a good-hearted folk, but like
all savages they despise everybody excepting themselves,
and especially those who are weaker than they.

In the year 188. . . I have forgotten the exact date,
pogroms became more frequent than ever. They occurred
in towns and villages where the proportion of the Jewish
population was comparatively tiny. It was natural
therefore that a pogrom should also be expected to occur
at Rostoff. By way of anticipating it the Jews sent their
merchandise out of the town—they consigned it first to
one port and then to another, but the weeks went by and
the expected pogrom did not take place. “If only this
confounded pogrom would take place ’”’ an old Jew said
to me, ‘‘ we should at least have got it over.”” Anticipation
of a misfortune is often more painful than the misfortune
itself.

In the end confidence returned ; the wandering mer-
chandise came back, and the market resumed its usual
air of bustling activity.

But one fine day a peasant was dissatisfied with a
herring he had bought from a Jewess and proceeded
to villify the fish wife. She retorted and a dispute
developed.

The passers by took sides and the street urchins ran
about the streets shouting, ‘‘ We are giving it to the
Jews”; the fat was in the fire.

In conformity with the requirements of tradition at that
time, cushions and mattresses in the shops were first136 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

ripped open and the feathers blew about like snowflakes
and covered the ground.

Then the booths were broken up and after that the
small shops were plundered. Finally, the large stores
belonging to Russians and to strangers as well as to the
Jews were plundered. Only the Jews had a rougher time.
That was a concession to the fashion of the day and to
religious sentiment. The public squares soon looked like
a market place. Respectable citizens bought rolls of stuff,
trinkets, watches and clothes, anything they needed or
had a fancy for, at ridiculous prices. Everybody was
laughing and chattering as though it were a public holiday.

“ Are you not ashamed of yourself ?’’ I said to a worthy
fellow whom I knew.

‘““ My dear Sir,” he replied, “‘ if I didn’t buy them some-
body else would. Why shouldn’t I do as everybody else.
It would be stupid to let such an opportunity slip.”

Fortunately, in the evening, a regiment of Cossacks
arrived at a gallop. A few judicious blows of the
“nagaika ’’ and everything was over.

This “‘ pogrom,” though in other places it may have
been different, was not a simple plundering of the Jews,
but a rehearsal of the drama which was soon to be enacted
throughout the whole country ; meantime it was being
played under the name of “‘ pogrom,”’ later it would be
enacted under the name of the ‘‘ Grand Revolution.”
The name was different but the principle was the same.
First they looted for the sake of loot and then they looted
for an alleged principle, in the name of liberty and equality
—even in the name of equity.

Before I finish with the Jews I must tell a story I heard
during the war. It is more eloquent than anything I1872-1895 137
could say on the subject. A group of soldiers were con-
versing on the subject of the Emperor William.

“Tf I took him prisoner,” said one, “ I’d shoot him on
the spot.”’

“TI wouldn’t,”’ said a Cossack, “I'd give him a good
whipping first.”’

“Whipping!” said a Mongol. ‘“ Why that’s good
enough for anybody. Before I shot him, I’d roast the
soles of his feet.”

Then turning to a Jew he said, ‘“‘ Well, Moses, what
would you do to him ?”

“Oh! I wouldn’t be as gentle as you! Only roast the
soles of his feet when he has made thousands and thou-
sands of us Jews wretched ! Nothing of the kind. I’d tor-
ture him beyond the point of human endurance. I would
give him the kind of passport that they give to us and then
he would have what he deserves. ”’

The persecution of schismatics also began under the
reign of Nicholas II. M. Pobedonostzev, an orthodox
fanatic, who had got into power was merciless to them.
On the most casual denunciation they were seized, im-
prisoned and deported to Siberia. Forty thousand
‘““Molokans’’ who had rendered eminent services to
Russia during the war of 1877 emigrated to Canada to
escape persecurion.

I sometimes wonder how it was that these atrocities
could occur under a sovereign—a sovereign moreover who
was an autocrat and who was neither a savage nor
monster—whose bare word could have stopped it. In
order to understand this it is necessary to realise the
kind of man Nicholas II was. I should rather not have
discussed this, for when a man has been assassinated in a138 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM
particularly cowardly manner, one rather shrinks from
saying much in his dispargament. But in a country which
is subjected to a régime—absolutist régime—the person-
ality of the sovereign plays such a decisive part that it is
impossible in dealing with an epoch to make no mention of
him.

It is difficult to describe the character of Nicholas II.
What can one say of a nonentity—and that is what he
was. He had no pronounced virtues or defects. He
cared for nothing, clung to nothing, and to no person,
not even as was for a long time believed, to his power.
His abdication proved that. He allowed himself to be
dismissed at a word without resistance, like a child that
is sent to bed.

Polite and agreeable, he was charming to meet for the
first time, but when one knew him better the charm wore
off. He was wanting in firmness, but he was obstinate.
He went back on his word as easily as he would give it.
He instinctively feared men of worth and was attracted
by nonentities. He would be delighted with a new-comer
and would suddenly ‘‘ sack ’’ men who were most devoted
to him. His chief fault was that he had not been born to
occupy a throne and certainly not the throne of an auto-
crat. Had he been born in a lowly sphere, one imagines
that he would not have been either above or below the
average. He probably desired the good of his country.
He is said to have done so, but the evil which he did to it is

 

immeasurable.

At the beginning of his reign he allowed himself to be
guided by M. Pobedonostzev, who alienated the affections
of his country from him. And he was guided by others

who were equally useless and less honourable and finally1872-1895 139
by his wife, a stupid and hysterical woman who ruined
him and ruined Russia. Poor simpleton. To put him aside
was a necessity ; to do so during the war was a piece of
stupidity worthy of the Provisional Government. To kill
him was a crime which nothing could excuse.

I have lived a little in every part of Russia. I have seen
the peasant at close quarters, that primitive and com-
plicated being who is both intelligent and stupid, both
good-hearted and sullen, hard working and lazy, and who
even to-day remains an insoluble riddle. He also, like the
rest of Russia, has contributed largely to the ruin of his
country. Though perhaps he will be called its saviour.
I do not profess, as unfortunately some do who understand
him least, to know his inmost soul. That would be
difficult and almost impossible. He has been accustomed
for centuries carefully to hide his feelings and every word
that he utters is with reticence and has a double meaning,
so that one cannot know, one can only divine his nature.

In many aspects it is detestable, in others likeable. One
loves him for his impulsiveness and his patience, although
it is true that it borders on inertia, but above all for his
sense of fair play He is capable of doing you any con-
ceivable villainy but, if you are just, he will never bear you
a grudge even though you do him an injury.

One day, or rather one autumn evening, when I was a
Justice of the Peace, I was coming home in a dog cart.
Half way home, in the middle of a forest, the axle broke.
I sent a man who was with me to the neighbouring village
to get something to mend it while I remained alone to
guard the carriage which was full of parcels which I was
bringing back to the town.

It was a dark night and wet. I was wet through. TheI40 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

place had a bad name. Escaped convicts were at large in
the neighbourhood and several travellers had already been
robbed. I was feeling anything but comfortable all alone
in the forest.

After a while I heard a cart coming along the road. By
the kind of noise it was making I knew it was a peasant
cart going at walking pace. It was coming towards me
and in order to avoid it running into me I shouted out.

“‘ Who is that ?”’ came the reply.

‘‘T have had an accident. My carriage is broken. I
have sent to the village for help.”’

‘You will have to wait a long time. The whole village is
drunk Nobody will come.”

Then, when he had ascertained the damage, he said,
‘“‘T will get my axe. Don’t worry, I know how to use
a

He went back to his cart and then re-appeared holding
his axe.

I got out my revolver and put it into my other coat
pocket. Horse stealers are all more or less brigands and
I had made up my mind to sell my life dearly.

He cut down a young tree and fixed it to the axle ; then
he tied my carriage to his cart.

I wanted to stop him. ‘“ You musn’t,”’ I said, “ you are
going into the town and J am coming from it. We are
going in opposite directions.”’

“Tt is no use, I tell you nobody will come. They are all
drunk. Of course I’ll go back with you.”’

“Go back forty versts ?”’

‘““What are forty versts ? That’s all right. It’s not as
though you were just anybody. Fortunately, one can
recognise people It’s settled; it’s done now, climb into1872-1895 141
my cart. But first I must wake my mate who is asleep.
Hi there, pull yourself together.”’

‘Let him sleep. I will walk behind. I am soaked to the
skin It will do me good.”

The moon came out and I saw his mate, a strong fellow
with broad shoulders, rubbing his eyes. ‘‘ Come on now,
jump in,” the horse thief said. There was nothing for it.
I did as I was told and the cart moved on. Nobody said a
word ; then suddenly the thief looked straight at me.

“ Don’t you recognise me ?”’

“No”

‘You were my judge. You sentenced me to prison.”

“What for ?”

Horse stealing, of course,” he replied, ‘it is always
the same thing.”

““ Ah, I see.”’

~ I was sentenced for a whole year and during that time
my family had nothing to eat. You ruined us completely.”

‘“ Ifa man steals e

" .. .And gets caught, he has to go to prison, that’s
quite natural, but I had not stolen—I swear I hadn’t.”’

He crossed himself and caught the axe which was
slipping off the bench,

Without taking it out of my pocket I cocked my re-
volver,

He went on emphatically.

“Stealing horses. Yes! I have stolen horses, but not
that time. I swear before God. It was another man who
did it and it’s me that was put in prison.”’

| lf Tpunished you... .”’

“ But I don’t bear you any ill will. Ah, you’re a just
man. It was the dirty witnesses who lied. Oh, yes you are142 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

a just man there is nothing to be said. You simply
carry out the law.”’

He brought me home and absolutely refused to accept
the money I offered him for his trouble.

“But no, you're just, you are. I didn’t do it for the
money. You are just. There is nothing to be said.”

I had put an innocent man in gaol and ruined him, but
he thought me just. Civilised people think differently
when they lose their case.

While I am on the subject I may as well tell another
story of robbers. It is also characteristic of the Russian
people, and this incident too occurred in Lithuania. I was
coming home on a fine summer’s night which was light
as they are in the north. I came through the same forest
where I had met the horse thief. I was sleeping the sleep
of the just and my trap suddenly stopped, when I woke up.

“Robbers,” said my coachman, a boy, timid as a hare.

Two men on horseback carrying rifles blocked the road.
One was some little distance off, standing at the head of
my horse, and the other was coming up to the carriage.

I was not fully awake but instinctively took my revolver
from my pocket and cocked it.

“ Halt, or I'll fire,” I said.

The man continued to come forward.

Quite unconsciously I began hurling the most violent
abuse at him.

He stopped his horse.

“Animal! dog!’ A whole string of invectives.
“How dare you hold up travellers, you robber. Who are
you, idiot ?”

‘Baron Ettingen’s gamekeeper. ”

I mistrusted the baron. He was typical of the old1872-1805 143
Kurland barons, who in their arrogant conceit thought
they could do just as they pleased. The mention of his
name infuriated me ; I gave it him hotter than ever.

“Tell your dirty baron that I’ll break his neck the first
chance I get, and be off unless you want to be killed like a
mad dog. Be quick about it. I’ve had enough.”’

The men, quite bewildered, turned their horses and
disappeared into the wood.

When I met the baron I complained of the extraordinary
behaviour of his gamekeepers.

‘““My gamekeepers,”’ hesaidin astonishment. “ But the
forest doesn’t belongto me, it belongs tothestate. lIagree
with your coachman in thinking they must be brigands ;
they are supposed to be about.”

It was the judges’ duty to visit the prisons and see that
no one was confined without a warrant. That kind of thing
did happen. One day the governer asked me if I would
care to see some escaped convicts who had just murdered
a whole family. I immediately recognised one of them.

“Tt was you who held me up in the forest.”

‘““T have never seen you in my life before.” But I
could see from his smile that he was lying.

A few months later I was standing near a train of con-
victs on their way to Siberia in a station near Moscow.
One of them called to me. I stopped and saw the same
man behind a barred window.

“ Hulloa, you again,” I said.

“Curious how one meets,” he replied. “ Who would
have believed it, in the middle of Russia ?”’

He seemed to be quite pleased to see somebody he knew.
“You were found guilty ?”

“T got it in the neck, Hard labour for life. It is all in144 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

the day’s work. You see I am an important person now,
I travel in a reserved carriage free of charge, and like a
great lord shall be kept at the expense of the State for the
rest of my days. Only I have no pocket money for small
I have run through my fortune on women.

 

luxuries
You give me something.”

I gave him a few roubles.

“May God reward you,” he said, “only you might
give mea little more. It is not enough. You owe me that.
If you hadn’t cursed me so hard you wouldn’t be where
you are now.”

‘Why didn’t you kill me that time ?”

‘You cursed me too hard. ‘The devil take you,’ I
said, ‘ he must be a dangerous man. Better steer clear of
him.’ In fact we were glad to get rid of you so cheaply.”

I naturally refrained from telling him I had been so
terrifying simply because I hadn’t properly woken up.
It is always the same story. The people tremble before
those whom they believe to be strong and do violence to
the weak.

There is only one thing that can make the Russian
peasant wild and bring him to lose his sense of justice.
That is the land. His country, religion and family, these
are all more or less indifferent to him. But he would
assassinate his mother and father for another scrap of
ground even if he did not know what to do with it.

The celebrated Asiatic explorer Przevalsky told me
that when he was in Usuri, which is a fertile country three
times as big as France, with a population of three hundred
families, everybody when asked the reason for their
poverty invariably replied: ‘‘ We haven’t enough land.”
“But you have the right to take as much as you want.”1872-1895 145

“Yes! but that is no use. There is not enough to go
round.”

One day in the province of Kharkov, where my property
was, some peasants, neighbours of mine, chose me as
arbitrator. It was a question of allotting some meadows to
which each one claimed to have a right. They came to me
with a map which I proceeded to examine. The property
in question consisted of some land which I had bought
the year before.

‘“‘ But you have brought the wrong map, my friends, you
have brought the map of my land.”

“Yes, but it is going to belong to us.”’

“But I have no idea of selling it.”’

‘“ We know that, but the Czar has ordered us to take it.”’

“What the devil put that into your heads ?”

‘It was some students who told us about it. The
imperial ukase on gold stamped paper has already come.
They have seen it.”’

“Oh! I see, Look here, you. Let me have that horse
to-morrow that I was thinking of buying from you.”

‘Then you have decided to give me my price.”

‘* Heavens, no.”

SW by: 2

‘You propose to take my property away from me, so
I propose to take yours.”’

They began to laugh; ‘‘ that’s good, but I paid the
last farthing for my horse, batiushka.”’

‘So have I for my land.”

‘ That’s not the same thing. The soil comes from God ;
it belongs to the whole world.”

‘Then why does it belong to you and not to your
neighbours ?”’

K146 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

Their only answer was to scratch their heads, and when
a peasant scratches his head there is no use trying to get
anything out of him.

The theory of “ the soil belonging to the whole world ”’
is, as I know, also a modern invention, contemporary with
the Intelligentzia. No one had ever heard of it before.
But the Intelligentzia were straining every nerve to
teach it to the rural population. The students no longer
paid any attention to their studies ; but they inundated
the countryside, and ‘‘ went among the people”’ as the
phrase was, to awaken them to this fact.

And then Count Tolstoi, instead of writing his excellent
books, took part in this mission and created a whole
school of adepts who carried on the good work.

These much coveted lands now belong to everyone,
with the exception of those who have a natural nght to
them. The only trouble now is that they are no longer
cultivated and that millions of men are becoming canni-
bals.

There is no pleasure in receiving a visit from people of
whom one has never heard. For this reason I am omitting
from these Memoirs any mention of men who, although
known to us, are either unknown or forgotten elsewhere.
I am making an exception in favour of General Skobelev,
whose name was at one time famous throughout Europe.
Besides, he was the first man to work for an alliance
between France and Russia.

As children, we could not bear each other. When we
met it always ended in a fight. His superior airs irritated
me and I always tried to take him down a peg or two.1872-1895 147
It was only because he was taller than me and he generally
came outtop. That was but natural,as he was three years
older than I.

One day he gave me a blow which made my nose bleed.
When his mother asked me why it was bleeding, I said
that it often happened without rhyme or reason. When
she went away Michael struck an attitude which filled me
with admiration. He behaved exactly like a hero of
melodrama. He was majestic, noble and solemn. And
in a grave voice he said :

~ You are brave and generous! Give me your sword -
mine was broken in the fight, and bend your knee. I am
going to knight you !”’

Nothing could have pleased me more. At that time we
were reading a story of the time of the Crusades and that
was just how Richard Cceur-de-Lion talked. In place of a
sword, which I did not possess, I handed him my ruler,
and knowing the ritual knelt before him. And he saidina
voice which sounded as if it were coming out of a
cavern :

“In the name of God and our Lady of Amiens and
Saint Michael, my patron saint, I make you a knight.
Be noble and never waver.”

And he touched me three times with his sword.

The words ‘‘ never waver’’ fired me. ‘‘ Oh no, I will
never waver.”

As a matter of fact I didn’t really quite know what it
meant. But that didn’t matter! It sounded fine.

He then gave me the knight’s embrace.

The ceremony stirred me to the depths of my being.

“ And now, my brother,’ said the knight Michael, “ I
am going to admit you to my secret. You are rather148 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

young, it is true, but I have confidence in you; only
you must swear that you will tellit to nobody.”

‘On my word of honour.”’

‘‘ Tdiot ! you must say on the oath of a knight.”

“Sorry. On the oath ofa knight.”

He unbuttoned his coat and showed me a white ena-
melled cross, which was fastened by a black and orange
ribbon to the lining of his waistcoat.

“Do you know what that is ?”’

‘The cross of Saint George. Great Uncle and Uncle
Alexandre haveit. Where did you get it from ?”’

‘‘T inherited it from my grandfather. When I am an
officer I shall wear it on my uniform and not under my
waistcoat.”

‘‘Oh rot. Anyone who chooses can’t wear that. It is
only given to heroes.”’

“T know that.”

“You a hero! You're just a silly boaster.”’

He boxed my ears.

Fifteen years afterwards I met him again in Warsaw ;
he was then a lieutenant of the Hussars.

He was neither richer, handsomer or better dressed or
of more distinguished family than the officers of his
regiment ; he was not different from them in any way and
had never been under fire ; and yet he was a hero in their
eyes.

How had he become one ? I still ask myself that ques-
tion.

He himself was not in the least surprised. He had not
yet had any chance of becoming a hero, but that didn’t
matter. Sooner or later he would be one. Meanwhile he1872-1895 149

always wore his St. George’s Cross on his vest though
he no longer showed it to anyone.

When we were children we had been playmates but
never real friends. Our tastes and characters were too
different ; we had nothing in common. How it happened
I don’t know, but we became friends. And this friendship
lasted till his death.

He passed through the military academy and afterwards
went to fight in Turkestan.

One day he informed me of his marriage to the Princess
Gagarin in Moscow.

One morning, about a fortnight afterwards, he burst
into my room. “‘ What are you doing this evening ?”’ he
said. ‘‘I met a most amusing woman yesterday coming
back from Moscow. A Paris cocotte. Her friend is great
fun too. Why shouldn’t the four of us have supper
together this evening ?”’

* What do you mean, my dear man, you’ve only been
married a fortnight.”

‘“That’s all over, finished. My wife is charming but
you know when all is said and done I am not the stuff of
which husbands are made. Besides a soldier ought to
remain celibate. It’s impossible to be both soldier and
husband. I have my work to do and marriage hampers me
hand and foot. Napoleon left Josephine, whom he loved,
for the same reason.”

‘“ You have been a bit late in discovering that.”’

~ I have never thought of these things before. I had no
time. Women you know just amuse men, nothing more.
They do not hold me.”’

With one exception, the Goddess of glory.”

“She’s a jade just like the others. She keeps meI50 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

languishing, but I shall win her in the end. It’s just a
question of time.”’

‘IT hope so for your sake. But meanwhile you have
another one, your lawful wife.”’

‘‘T have already told you she is an exception. I am
really very lucky. Another woman would have made no
end of fuss. She consented to our separation then and
Toere,,

He went back to Turkestan some days later.

From time to time his name was mentioned in the
newspapers, and he was spoken of in the town and in
society. One day, when I was going to Peterhoff on my
return from France I saw in the distance a lady talking toa
colonel, an aide-de-camp to the Emperor, whom I had
never seen before. He was a Knight of the Order of Saint
George and at this period His Majesty had no aide-de-
camp who had this order.

The next day I saw him coming up to my house. It
was Skobelev. The only difference was that he had let
his beard grow. And pointing to his cross, “ the same one
that was on my vest,” he said. ‘‘ You ought to remember
it. You got your ears well boxed on account of it.”

‘“ And colonel as well as his Majesty’s aide-de-camp.
You don’t waste any time.”’

“IT have come to enlist you. I am going back to Asia
for I have been given a command. In one month, or say
two, as the necessary preparations and the voyage will
take a month, I shall complete the conquest of Samar-
kand. You shall be made an officer as soon as the town is
taken. Come with me as a volunteer.”

I consented.

‘We are leaving in fifteen days.”’1872-1895 151

Buthewentalone. It was thenthat the bridge gave way
and I was confined to my bed, tortured with rheumatism.

I didn’t see him until the end of the war in the East.
He was a general by that time, and well in the limelight.
His so-called friends discredited him in consequence and
said all sorts of things about him. They did their work so
well that His Majesty received him more than coldly.
It was thought that his career was finally finished as in-
deed it probably was.

He did not get a command. But as he was attached to
his Majesty’s bodyguard he could not be prevented from
going to the theatre of war, where the Emperor was going
himself.

One day he showed me piles, mountains of his photo-
graphs. He appeared full face, in profile, quarter face,
on foot and on horseback.

‘ Are these for your biography, great man ?”’

‘‘ No, they are labels to put on chocolate, scent and soap
boxes.”

“ Good heavens.”

“ Why not ? You must get people worked up. You
can't do anything without a public. Glory is a strumpet.
She requires it and you know that I mean to win her.”

“ Aren’t you satisfied yet ?”

“Why, do you think that I shall be contented with
having kissed the hem of her garment ? I want to possess
her exclusively. Yes, all or nothing. This war will get
my feet into the stirrups.”

~ And supposing they don’t give you a command ?”

He smiled. ‘‘ You amuse me,” he said, ‘‘it is not a
question of ‘if.’ They are certain not to give me a com-
mand,”152 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

“ And then?”

‘“‘ And then I shall simply take the stirrup myself and
get into the saddle. That’s all.”

He was as good as his word. When the Danube was
forced he was present as a simple spectator, but the
next day the whole army knew that the victory was.due to
him and nobody else. A few months later he was the idol
of the soldiers. Then he became a hero, the legendary
hero of Russia.

The photographs had played an important part in his
popularity and Russia was flooded with them.

“You see, it wasn’t so foolish and conceited of me,”
he said to me one day as he showed me some photographs
in a shop window.

That was only the beginning.

‘‘ Have you already ordered the grey cloak, Bonaparte,
that you are going to wear when you are Napoleon.”’

‘“‘Tdiot, the white general—and that is what both his
men and the enemy called him—has no need of a grey
cloak. He needn’t imitate the little corporal. Napoleon
is the greatest man I know and even if I only come just
second to him, I shall put up with that if necessary.”
Then after a moment of silence he added :

‘ T shall not fall on the field of battle. I may be wounded
but I shall not be killed. I have been told that. Why, if it
had been possible I should have been killed already.”

‘Do you believe in telling the future °?”’

“Certainly I do, don’t you ?”

“No,”

‘“That is nonsense. You may have doubts about it,
but to deny it is absurd.”’1782-1895 153

“T shouldn’t dream of denying the possibility, any
more than I should of believing it. I simply don’t know
and I shall continue to doubt until the matter is proved.”’

“You sceptic, trying to find out the reason of things.
And in the end you allow yourself to be taken in by words.
I take things as they are, without asking for a reason.
Explain, for instance, why each man has his destiny.
Yet he certainly has. One man may be prudent, clever
and far-seeing, to calculate everything beforehand, and
still nothing will succeed with him. He walks on a beaten
path and suddenly he gets into a morass and is drowned.
Another may do the maddest things, hurl himself into
the ocean, but things always turn out so that he escapes.
Our destinies are written down for us once and for all.
And the clairvoyants know how to decipher the book of
destiny. That’s all there is to it. And why not. Science
has not yet said its last word. Only yesterday, electricity,
hypnotism, were like old wives’ tales. Yes, just like des-
tiny, clairvoyants exist.”

‘Have you had your destiny foretold ?”

‘Twice! and on each occasion I was told exactly the
same thing. The first time was in France. And the fortune
teller was an old lady whom I met in the train. And the
next time it was an old man at Samarand whom I met in
central Asia. And I was told the same thing on both
occasions. Isn’t it odd ?”’

“What did they say ?”

“It’s a long story. The gist of it was, that I should goa
long way, a very long way, and when I had almost got
there, crack. I knew that without their telling me. One
must die sometime or other. Only ‘almost’ is a very
vague word. It worries me, ‘almost.’ Almost what ?154 FROM SERFDOCM TO BOLSHEVISM

That’s what I should like to know. And that’s what
I have been thinking about.”’

I remember our last meeting as though it were yester-
day ; and yet it was thirty years ago. It was at the house
of a mutual friend, General Dmitri Doshturov, the last
of the ‘‘ preux chevaliers sans peur et sans reproches.”’
He was the only man whom Skobelev took really seriously
and respected and that is saying a good deal, because in
his estimation almost all men were worthless.

There were seven of us at dinner. Our host, Count
Vorontzov, the generals Tcherevin and Dragomirov,
Skobelev, I and my former Robinson Crusoe who had just
got into disgrace again and whom Vorontzov and Tchere-
vin, who were both all powerful with Alexandre III, were
trying to help. They were wrong in doing so because
there’s a limit to everything. But Vorontzov could not
bear to see a man in distress. He had to come to his
assistance, even if it was against his better judgment.
The dinner started merrily. Dragomirov, who although
frankly fond of the bottle, was also a man of great wit,
amused us with his sarcasms. In a few words he summed
up the character of our friend Doshturov and the régime
of the day.

Vorontzov was trying to persuade the master of the
house to accept an appointment which he was being
offered. But the latter would have none of it.

“Why don’t you let him alone,” said Dragomirov, “ he
knows he is no good for anything.”’

We protested. ‘‘ Doshturov ? What a thing to say.”

“ But it is so. I don’t deny his knowledge or his intrin-
sic worth or his capacity asa soldier, but... .”

“ There is a but ?”1872-1895 155

“Yes! and indeed a but that reduces all his qualities
to nothing. He has never managed to learn to be a useful
tool for other people’s dirty work.”’

Then, as always, we fell to discussing what was happen-
ing in the country. That was not particularly cheerful.

Everybody agreed that things were in a bad way.
Fundamentally, Dragomiroy, Tcherevin and Robinson
didn’t care. After us the deluge. Skobelev was curious to
see what happened. He seemed to be indifferent and
shared the view of the man who was speaking. Only
from time to time his eyes darted a flash which was re-
pressed at once. Voronztov did not see things in a rose-
coloured light either, only his view was that there was no
doubt that everything would settle down satisfactorily
in the end. The Czar knew what he wanted, and knew
how to get his own way and the throne was more firmly
established than ever.

When they had gone Skobelev burst out laughing. He
strode up and down the room. “ Everything will settle
down! The throne firmly established! Sing away, dicky
bird. Firmly established ! The show is going phut. There
will be nothing left. They will put things to right quite
soon ! What do you say, what do you say ?”’

‘““T say,” Doshturov stated calmly, “‘ that I am also of
the opinion that a catastrophe is to be expected. Only I
don’t see that this gives cause for rejoicing. Russia will
go to hell and we shall all go with it.”

‘‘ Dynasties collapse and change, and the nations often
benefit thereby,’ said Skobelev. ‘‘ The Bourbons almost
ruined France. Napoleon saved her and made her greater
than she had ever been before.”’

‘Things sometimes happen like that and sometimes156 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

they don’t. But we are getting away from the question.
Let us suppose that the nation will not collapse and that
only the throne will. We shall collapse with it and I
confess that I have no desire to do so.”’

“Why should we believe. . . ?

“ First of all,’’ Doshturov went on quietly, “ I do not
believe that a revolution in Russia could lead to any good
results. If therefore a revolution occurs I shall be hostile
toit. Besides, I am a soldier and I shall carry out my duty
as a soldier. So will you, I suppose ?”’

‘““T,” almost shouted Skobelev ; then with a smile he
said, ‘““I understand nothing of politics; besides, they
bore me. It always makes me cross when people talk
politics, and you know that I cannot control my feelings.
Iam not a diplomat. But it is getting late and I must go
home. Besides, you know there’s one’s duty! We must
speak of this again. I am dreadfully sleepy to-day.”’

About a year later Skobelev suddenly died, more popu-
lar than ever with the people and more hated than ever
in high circles. ‘‘ They’ pretended that he had been
poisoned, “‘ we’’ that his excesses had brought about his
premature death. Nobody knew the truth and probably
it will never be known.

The Bolsheviks have destroyed the equestrian statue
erected to Skobelev at Moscow. It seems that they needed
a site for putting up a statue to another hero, the Jew
Silberson. And nobody knows what particular services
that great man rendered to Russia.

A warning to the reader. Those who have not expe-
rienced the joys and experiences of fatherhood will do well
not to read this chapter. It will mean nothing to them and
will probably bore them. I myself might have cut it out,1872-1895 157
but some feeling which I cannot explain prompts me not
to doso. Women will understand this.

Children have always adored me and I was fortunate
enough to have three boys, all of them happy, healthy
and good looking. I shall not say anything of the elder
boys as they are well enough known. One as a commander-
in-chief of the Anti-Bolshevik army and the other as a
writer.

We loved all three equally, or at least I think we did;
for it is impossible to gauge the intensity of feelings which
have neither weight nor dimensions; but we loved the
youngest quite differently from his elder brothers. It
was a morbidly anxious love that was almost a malady.

One day when the child, who was two years old, was
out with his mother and nurse an idiot accosted them,
and said with a smile to the boy’s mother, ‘‘ Don’t be harsh
to him. Let him do what he likes. Just let him be happy
and run about and play. He will only live nine
years.”

Reasonable people often believe in the foolish words of
an idiot, but only when the idiot passes himself off as a
wise man or an authority on politics. This prophet, how-
ever, Was just a plain idiot, whom all the town knew to be
so, and whom no one considered reasonable. One would
have had to have been an idiot oneself to have had any
faith in him at all.

Neither my wife nor myself were idiots, but the harm
was done. Her life had been poisoned. The anticipation
of misfortune is often more painful than the misfortune
itself. It had never occurred to us that the child might be
taken from us. And how, we could think of nothing.
As we never mentioned our fear, and in fact tried to make158 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

each other believe we never even thought of it, we in-
creased our sufferings by concealing them.

In due course the boy was nine years old. He was in
perfect health, so that now we thought our fears were
ridiculous and we both said, ‘‘ I never believed it.”

Relieved of this obsession, I returned to two pursuits
of which I was passionately fond of and which I had
hardly thought of for years, collecting and hunting. It
become quite a mania. When I went into a town where
I might be able to pick up some antiques, I forgot the
friend whom I had come to see and spent all my spare
time in hunting up antique shops and stray people, who
according to those who knew nothing about it, had
wonderful things to sell.

When I wasn’t travelling I spent my days hunting.
Was I a real sportsman? That depends on the meaning
one gives to the word. If it was simply a matter of
killing game I was not. To kill for the sake of killing has
never appealed to me. The size of my bag has always left
me quite cold. I have often derived greater pleasure from
a day on which I have come back with nothing than
from others, from which I have come back with a heavy
bag.

What a delight it is to live for a day the life of a nomad.
To run up hill and down dale—to sleep under the starry
sky and live in the company of savages, who know nothing
about stock exchange quotations, newspaper scares, the
noise of tramway, telegrams, and the constant importuni-
ties of the telephone. And I had a hunting ground. A
night in the train landed me in the heart of the Caucasus,
an Eldorado for the sportsman.

The Caucausus is Switzerland on a large scale. You1872-1895 159
get the same kind of scenery, pasturage, rocks, snow-
capped peaks and glaciers. But Switzerland, with the
funiculars climbing to the heavens, the railed off precipices
with benches for the elderly, the fingerposts, hotels, chalets,
cafes, pensions, young German married couples, Cook’s
absurdities, red-bound Baedekers, stuffed chamois and
carved ibexes—Switzerland is banal and commonplace
through being too well known. The Caucausus is a poem,
and what is more an Oriental poem. It still remains the
unknown country where Jason might have gone to search
for the golden fleece, where to-day, as long ago, Prome-
theus remains bound to his rocks. Its people still wear
picturesque costumes and golden armlets inlaid with gold
and silver.

Falcon hunting is still carried on and a man will still
kill his friend to avenge an insult to his great grandfather
who has been dead a hundred years. A man will kidnap
his own brother’s daughters in order to sell them to the
Pashas of Teheran or Stamboul. And nobody works.
Everything is there to hand. One picks the fruit which
grows of its own accord, and shears the sheep which
browse around without being looked after. One makes
one’s wine from vines which don’t require training, but
climb up the trees and stretch along the branches which
hang over one’s head. And when the wine is in the cellar
one drinks it. And then one sleeps, eats, sings. One drinks
again and sleeps off the effect of the wine reclining on
wonderfully patterned rugs.

When there is nothing left in a house to eat a great
company will set off to help their friends to empty their
cellars merrily and to eat their sheep or perhaps to steal
from the herds of horses which graze on the mountains.160 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

In times of peace, in order not to let your weapons get
rusty and to keep your hand in, you indulge in a little
scrapping with relations and friends and old acquaintances
or you shoot a stray man in the back. And when Russia
is at war you come to her aid and die for the Czar and
your country.

When you want to go hunting, you go toa station where
you have “ kunaks ”’ (friends) ; you get a horse and,
accompanied by native Cossacks who act both as escort
and as beaters, you start off for the mountains. At your
feet lies the plain of Kuban extending as far as the eye can
see; in front of you are the snow-capped peaks of the
great Caucasian ranges. You spend the day in beating
the forest, in following an animal with a spear, in lying
sn wait behind a tree, and tasting sometimes the delights
of anticipation and sometimes the pain of disappointment.
And hours pass like seconds.

Night comes.

The horses are unsaddled, and the camp fire is lit.
Lying on your “ burka”’ (cloak) you gaze into the crackling
fire and slip gently into a state of calm repose, like some
wild animal at rest.

Your whole being relaxes deliciously. You do not sleep ;
you are not fully awake. You are conscious. You see
and hear without thinking and without any reaction.
Just as in a dream one is outside of life, a mere spectator

of the things that are happening about one.

The bonfire will suddenly flame up like a brasier and
then seem to go out, in a pillar of smoke rising to the sky.
Strange beings in long cloaks and furred hats, lit up
fantastically by the flames, some red in the blaze and
others black silhouettes, roughly outlined, are lying on1872-1895 161

the ground or come and go round about the fire. A
tartar wearing a yellow cloak, with blue stripes, is roasting
a lamb spitted on the ramrod of his gun.

He is listening, tall, powerful and supple like a young
poplar tree in the midst of its foliage, to an old man with
a long white beard, who is telling how, when he was young,
they used to go and raid villages, the regular eagles’ nests
high up among the rocks. Then some Cossack trooper,
his cloak in rags but well cut, takes up the tale and tells
with graceful, easy gesture of his adventures in Asia and of
the battles in which General has led them personally
into the attack.

One man will vaunt the speed of his horse, another the
temper of his dagger, and the keen blade of his sword.
And to prove his word the soldier will draw his sword and
with one sharp stroke cut off the head of a sheep. The
great deeds of ancestors are told and the war songs of
generations dead and gone are sung in chorus.

The night comes and more wood is put on the bonfire,
and gradually the camp falls asleep. All is silent but for
the sound of the horses munching their oats.

The moon rises, bathing earth and sky in a pale silvery
transparent light. A young Cossack raises himself on his
elbow, and resting his head on his hands remains thus a
long time, his eyes looking into the distance. Suddenly, in
a low chant he begins a melancholy song which goes
straight to your heart ; then a tenor, also in a muffled
chant, takes up the tune. And you fall asleep lulled by
their song.

One day, while I was hunting we were joined by a young
Cossack who said he had been looking for me forsome days.
He brought a telegram sent by my wife to the station162 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

master where I had left the train. It read, ‘“‘ Ask my hus-
band to come home at once on an urgent matter.” I
understood. One of the children was ill.

The youngest was dying.

Have you ever seen a child, full of vitality, happy and
hungry for life, who knows that it is going to die ?

During long nights which dragged out like nightmares
he spoke to us of his childish pleasures, told us how happy
he had been, that he did not wish to die yet. That he
would be good, so good, would love us even more, if we
could prevail upon God to let him live if only for a little,
a very little more.

Have you seen a poor little creature, full of terror, beg
his father to prevent the terrible old man from coming to
fetch him ?

Have you heard a poor little innocent make his last
requests, thinking of his old nurse’s future, leaving his
toys to other children, giving his poor little gun-metal
watch to his dear mother, so that she may stop crying.

We saw that.

The day after the funeral, when we went to the ceme-
tery, we saw a man sitting on the child’s grave playing
with pebbles, and it was the ‘natural ’’ who nine years
before had prophesied the death of the child and whom
we had not met since. He smiled at the boy’s mother ;
“he is happy here, the little darling. No one will make
him suffer here. Why do you cry ?”’

Soon afterwards we left the South where we had lived
for more than fifteen years and went back to St. Peters
burg, where the two boys who were left to us were complet-

ing their studies.CHAPTER VI
1895-1904

For twenty-five years, until 1895, I was never at St.
Petersburg except as a guest—a frequent one it is true,
but nevertheless only a guest. I knew plenty of people
there, but, with a few exceptions, the old ties had become
loosened. When I went back in 1895 to settle there finally,
[felt a little bit out of my element. In many respects the
town had altered. Formerly, and even now at times in
Moscow and in the country, there had been acertain com-
munity of spirit, of feeling, of atavism, among people of
the same kind. St. Petersburg, on the other hand, had
become merely a rendezvous where people came together
who had no interests in common concerning either the
past, their religion or their country. Everyone was a
stranger. Each man lived forand thought only of himself,
loved himself only. Men were no longer valued for their
intrinsic worth, but only in as far as they might be useful
or not.

What is known as Society no longer existed. One no
longer went about as before, simply to amuse oneself,
to see people, to talk and pass one’s time pleasantly, but
rather as one goes to market, not for one’s personal plea-
sure, but to do a little business, to sell one’s wares and to
use one’s knowledge, talents, convictions, and often, alas,
one’s honour, to the best advantage.

163164 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

In this market were to be met men who wielded power,
great lords, rich people, men who would be useful, but
very rarely any real gentlemen. Gentlemen by birth,
of course, were to be found there, but the spirit was
changed.

The real gentlemen (there were still some left in Russia)
retired into their shells—some stayed at home, others lived
in Moscow, in the country or abroad.

In this fin-de-siecle society it was the fashion to exhibit
an unbounded devotion to the Czar, ‘‘ our adored sove-
reign.” It was a term which stood for a faithful love of
one’s country, a profound distrust of the Jews, and a
marked contempt for all those who were not in the smart
set. Of all these high sounding sentiments, only the last
one, the contempt for almost the whole of the Russian
population was sincere. The rest was merely playing to
the gallery.

The “ adored sovereign ” was all nonsense, and the self-
styled faithful servants were merely cringing and obse-
quious lackeys who abused and ridiculed their master
among themselves.

The talk about the beloved country was all nonsense
too, only one did not say so. And as for the Jews, they
were secretly sought after in the hope that something
might be wormed out of them—a well-paid post on a
board of directors, or a useful tip on the Stock Exchange.

The women—that is to say the younger women—did
little to recall the great ladies that I used to see in the
old days. It was not that the latter were wiser, cleverer or
more intelligent than the women of to-day; mor were
they better wives or more faithful mistresses—but they

were ladies. They knew how to talk and to make them-1895-1904 165
selves agreeable, how to appear to listen when they were
spoken to and to smile at the right moment, and how to
win the respect of their menfolk, even of their lovers.
The standard of women in society was, indeed, sadly
lowered. Formerly they conversed, now they chattered ;
they used to know how to appreciate good books, now
they read nothing but novels and scandalous memoirs.
They used to go to the opera, and to see good plays at the
theatre, now they preferred to admire the muscles of the
wrestlers at the circus, or to go to the ballet to see their
fathers’, husbands’ and brothers’ mistresses. In the old
days people gave amusing supper parties in their own
houses, now they went and drank cheap champagne at
cabarets.

In Alexander II’s time St. Petersburg society still had
the reputation of being one of the most exclusive centres
of fashion in Europe. Now it was just like that to be met
with at any smart casino, consisting of rather ill-bred
women inadequately clothed by well-known dress-
makers and covered with diamonds, and ill-bred clean-
shaven men in white ties.

The circles of the Intelligentzia were all the same funda-
mentally, only the outward form differed. High-sounding
phrases which had been repeated for thirty years were
indulged in, theories and extreme opinions were blindly
acquiesced in by everyone, in order to appear suitably
~ enlightened people.”” In a word, it was a rather dirty
business, very much of the same unsavoury nature as that
indulged in by our own set. The only difference was that
we gainbled on the continuance of the autocracy, while
they banked on the future, and put their money on the
downfall of the present régime and the revolution which166 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

was bound to come. As for pleasure, one set were as
boring as the other, and like all sensible men I stopped
going anywhere. Anyway, I had no time to waste.

I was always busy until about four o’clock ; after that
I used to go round visiting the dealers, while I spent my
evenings very pleasantly either reading or conversing
with people who had not yet lost the habit. They were
rare, but they were to be found.

Since I have referred to antique shops I must make
mention of the passion for bric-a-brac which raged through-
out the world and soon degenerated into positive madness;
a fashion calculated to disgust the genuine collector.
Everyone claimed to be a collector, and these collectors
would buy daubs—especially those which were passed
off as authentic masterpieces by great masters. That
was essential.

One day I saw a rather shabby carriage, drawn by
two horses that must once have been magnificent animals,
stop at my door. An immaculate and impressive footman
handed me a card. Madame , | did not know the
name, wished to see me.

An old lady came in, a lady whom I recognised at the
first glance as “ sythentic”’; and I flatter myself as
knowing something about “ antiques.” She may not have
been signed or catalogued, but she was certainly a lady.

She apologised for disturbing me.

‘But your niece promised me to let you know that I
was coming. It is about a most important matter. 1 am
making my will and wish to be absolutely fair to all my
heirs. They are all to share equally. Now I possess a

picture which I believe to be a genuine Raphael. All the
critics say it is, and I should like to know its true value.T895-1904 167
Icannot trust the experts. You know those people
Perhaps you would be so very kind as to come and look

att?”

I replied that I was at her disposal, but that she was
asking me to do something very difficult. To put a price
on a Raphael! A master who was not to be found in the
market.

~ I know that,” she replied ; “ but I only want to know
the approximate price. A hundred thousand roubles
more or less is of no consequence.”

I promised to go and see the Raphael, and if possible to
tell her how many millions it might be worth.

The lady’s drawing-room breathed an eighteenth cen-
tury atmosphere. It made my mouth water. I endea-
voured discreetly to ascertain whether these treasures were
for sale. No; she did not attach any importance to them,
but these “ old things ’’ had come to her from her grand-
mother. Besides she herself was a collector. And she
shewed me the masterpieces which she had bought.

I pitied the survivals from her grandmother. They were
in bad company indeed.

She was so delightful to talk to that in spite of her
masterpieces I almost forgot why I had come.

“ What about the picture? Would you let me see it,
Madame ?”

She rang. ‘‘ Bring me the Raphael, you know, the one
which: .

~ Certainly, Madame.”’ Four men brought a chest, a
real safe, which itself was worth a small fortune. So I
remarked.

““Yes,”’ she replied, “‘I ordered it at...’’ She mentioned
the cabinet maker who was fashionable at the moment.168 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

“Tam always afraid of the picture being stolen or des-
troyed ; so you understand. . .”

She turned the safety key and then another key, and
revealed the Raphael.

It was a wretched reproduction of a mediocre Madonna
by an unimportant Italian painter. A daub that might
have been worth ten francs.

But I praised it extravagantly.

The lady was delighted. “ How much do you think it
would fetch ?” she asked.

“Ah! that’s hard to say,” I said.

In the end I advised her to show the picture to the
people at the Hermitage Museum. They would be
more competent to value it than I, and it would give them
pleasure to do so. I don’t know how they dealt with the
situation.

The horrors which people took in good faith for master-
pieces, and with which they cluttered up their drawing-
rooms, was enough to make one shudder. The worst of it
was that this mania spoilt the market. Thanks to the com-
petition, those rogues of dealers were now asking for any
old thing prices for which you could once have bought
the whole shop and the dealer as well.

Alas, in this respect, too, the good times were Over.

In the eighteenth century, in the time of the Empresses,
Russia had been inundated with beautiful things—
furniture, bronzes, porcelain and pictures. Neither they
nor their courtiers were collectors, but, as is well known,
enlightenment was then supposed to come from the
North, and in order to maintain one’s reputation one had
to be a Maecenas. And money was plentiful. The treasury

was there to be dipped into.1895-1904 169

After the emancipation of the serfs, many old places
were sold. The purchasers, who were generally ignorant
tradespeople, converted the manor houses into factories,
and failing to appreciate the value of their contents,
threw them out. There were neither collectors nor dealers
at that time, and priceless objects were taken off to the
booths where old iron, old boots, and all sorts of rubbish
was sold. I knew a worthy fellow who bought old gilt
bronzes, took the gold off and sold the bronze by weight
to be melted down. He would get twenty francs for an
object which to-day would be worth a hundred thousand,
yet he made enough by this trade to buy three five-storied
houses.

The gentry themselves pretty well equalled the pur-
chasers of their houses in vandalism. They too used to
throw away their old pieces, not to turn them into cash,
but simply to be rid of them. The old was out of fashion ;
it was modern stuff that was wanted. A lady of my ac-
quaintance, having bought some hideous modern furniture
at St. Petersburg for her country house, and not knowing
where to put the delightful furniture she had, made a
bonfire of it. One day at one of my neighbours in the
country I saw a hay stack covered with a cloth that
attracted my attention. It was a particularly fine old
piece of Gobelin tapestry. Prince Golitzin-Osterman-
Tolstoi having inherited an eighteenth century town
house and wishing to refurnish it, sold a large drawing-
room with its bronzes, chandeliers and pictures for the
inclusive sum of a hundred roubles. Amongst the can-
vasses were one by Tocqué and four by Levitsky—our
greatest portrait painter.

There were miniatures going for a few pence, and170 FROM SEREFDOM TO BOLSHWEVISM

Louis XVI clocks for a couple of pounds. I bought two
pieces of Gubbio and Urbino pottery for a franc, and
some genuine Sévres cups at the same price. And they were
the real thing.

There was a booth at the market where bronzes were
sold by weight, and pictures by the cartload. A cartful
was sold for seventy-five roubles. Portraits were sold at a
fixed price—ladies, five roubles, gentlemen, three roubles
a piece. If you bought several a discount of twenty-five
per cent. was allowed.

I bought some pretty good pictures at that time, includ-
ing a Tintoretto which is reproduced in the Brussels
publication, ‘‘ Pictures in the Palaces and Collections of
St. Petersburg.”

After I had fled from Russia I came across it in the
house of a collector abroad. He showed me a letter from
an American offering a million dollars for it.

Once I bought the portrait of an unknown person who
turned out to be an ancestor of mine. A grandfather is
hardly dear at ten francs, though it is true he had a slight
squint.

My friend, Prince Golitzin, secured a whole line of
ancestors for fifty roubles. One day he asked me to take
him to the market.

» What are you after? Bronzesor. ...

“My fool of a father has sold my land with everything
on it. All my family portraits are lost, and I need some for
my dining-room. Some grand-parents and some aunts,
even if they be only maternal ones. I know that ancestors
are out of fashion nowadays. Raw meat and dead game is
the rage, but I have a horror of dead things, and besides1895-1904 V7
I value family traditions. Those old powdered heads warm
my heart.”’

“But, my dear fellow, you can’t just pick those things
up.

‘What about your grandfather ?”’

‘““ That was a stroke of luck.”’

“I am sure to find a few pretty aunts whom I can if
necessary adopt before buying them.”’

‘“Why don’t you have copies made of your genuine
ancestors ? There are some in the History Museum.”’

“Copies? What a dreadful idea! I[ detest new
antiques—as for their being genuine, I didn’t know my
ancestors, and I don’t care about their effigies. Besides,
as I am telling you, I intend to adopt them. When I have
done so they will belong to the family. Look at that old
fellow there. Why, he was made to be my grandfather.
And the lady—a most respectable grandmother; or
rather no, she is my maternal aunt. Grandfather and the
three aunts, I'll take the lot.”

I was dining with him shortly afterwards. A lady asked
him who was the original of a certain portrait.

‘““My grandmother,” he replied.

“Your son is remarkably like her.”

‘And that one is my maternal great aunt,’ he con-
tinued. ‘‘ Iam said to be the very image of her.”

‘There is a strange family likeness running through
them.”’

“Tt would certainly be strange if a Golitzin did not
take after his ancestors,” said the Prince. “ Chips of the
old block. Heredity. It’s quite natural.”

In the financial world I only knew a few people withrROM SEREDOM £O BOLSHEVism™

 

 

172
whom I did business, and that was the world with which
I had to be in touch. The all powerful finance minister,
Witte, an old and valued acquaintance of mine, intro-
duced me to Monsieur Rothstein, who was also a leading
man of the day, and I was soon on excellent terms with
him. Thanks to him, I was soon in touch with things.

Witte, Witte. The name was on everybody’s lips.
People talked of no one else. The popular belief was that
Witte did everything ; and even if that was an exaggera-
tion it is an undoubted fact that nothing could be done
without Witte.

“ Witte is a rogue,’ some people declared. Others said,
“ Witte is a great statesman.”

Both were mistaken. A rogue he certainly was not.
He was absolutely straight, at any rate in money matters.
He never turned his power to pecuniary advantage, as
did many of those who accused him of doing so. But
neither was he a statesman in the European sense of the
word.

It is essential that a statesman should have a definite
aim in view and a settled plan of action. He may change
his methods to suit circumstances, and to that extent
become an opportunist; but he must know definitely
what he is getting at.

Witte did not know. His one aim was to achieve power,
and having achieved it, he was satisfied.

The result was that he was not a statesman, but an
ambitious man of great intelligence and ability, with a
remarkable capacity for work, and especially for intrigue.
He had unbounded confidence in himself and never
troubled about methods. One way was as good as another
to him. He knew that in Russia, in the words of an old1895-1904 173
proverb, ‘‘ he who seizes the stick is master,” and seeing
the stick in feeble hands he got possession of it. But he
navigated the ship of empire without compass or chart,
guided solely by instinct, and did not know what to do
except when in smooth water. When the storm broke he
was at a loss.

As long as he was in power men bowed down before him.
He knew how to reward his admirers, and little dogs
beg prettily for a bone.

After his fall he was covered with obloquy, in accordance
with the universal rule that asses will always kick the
lion when he is dead.

I had a great deal to do with him. Sometimes he was
not up in the topic of conversation, but he was quick in
the uptake and in grasping a point. Besides, if he was in
the dark he was not ashamed of asking questions.

His colleagues were just the opposite type. They
thought themselves to be infallible, knew everything,
but never succeeded both in knowing and understanding.

I said “colleagues ’’—‘ lackeys’’ would be more
appropriate. Almost all the ministers—in fact the word
almost is redundant—crawled to him; they even lacked
the necessary dignity and intelligence to keep up ap-
pearances.

I once found Witte in a state of great indignation against
the Council of Ministers or the Privy Council—I cannot
quite remember which ; they were, he said, always trying
to put spokes in his wheel. The very day before, the con-
struction of an indispensable railway had been opposed
on the ground of lack of funds.

“ That’s the result,” I said, “of trying to get every-
thing built by the State. If, as before, you had had174 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

recourse to concessions, your railway would be built by
now.”

‘“'No, there is no money in the market to-day.”

‘“‘ When there is none, there is always a little more.”’

“Tf you are so certain about it, find some and I shall
give you the concession. Certainly I shall. I want to have
the line ; and on this occasion I will make an exception
to my rule.”

I mentioned the matter to Rothstein, who was chair-
man of the International Bank. He set the telegraph
wires humming and the money was found.

I went back to Witte.

“ You go to the Minister of Ways and Communications, ’
he said. ‘“‘ You have to go to him first; ask for the
concession. If he jibs, you may tell him that you are
acting in agreement with me; and indeed that I wish it
to be done.”

I wrote a formal application and sent it in to the
Minister. By a fortunate coincidence I knew him well.
We belonged to the same club. He read it, smiled super-
ciliously, and handed it back.

‘My dear Baron, I don’t want you to lose the forty-
eight copeks for the stamp, or to turn down an application
of yours. So take it back and let us talk of other matters.
Your scheme—excuse my saying so—is quite impractic-
able.”’

““ [mpracticable ?”’

~ Yes, of course. I am absolutely opposed to granting
any concessions, and as long as I am in the Government
none shall be granted. You should have known that.
Anyhow, you may take it as absolutely definite.”’

“I understand. But all the same I demand an1895-1904 175
official refusal. As you will readily understand, I am not
the only person interested in this matter; there are others
who have financed it. I don’t want them to think that I
have treated them casually. Give me an official refusal
and they will see that I have done what I can.”’

‘Very well, you shall have it.”’

A little later he observed: “ You are taking it very
calmly. I am glad, because I should not have liked to
refuse anything on which you set your heart.”

“Not at all, my dear sir. Asa matter of fact I have
not set my heart on it in the least. I was only anxious
to do a friend a good turn ; in fact he’s hardly a friend, a
familiar acquaintance I should rather call him.”’

“ Your friend must be a simpleton to expect such a
thing.”’

“ Hardly a simpleton. Witte’s the man I mean.”

“Which Witte ? The baron ?”

“No, the Finance Minister.”’

> Oh, I. see.”’

He minuted my application, for the guidance of the
head of the department, I suppose—‘‘ Reply that he
should obtain the sanction of President of the Imperial
Council and of the Minister of Finance. In the opinion of
the Minister of Ways and Communications the proposal
is sound.”’

Witte rendered conspicuous services to Russian in-
dustry, and the enormous advance which it has made of
recent years is largely due to his efforts. But in many
respects he did more harm than good. He was almost
always concerned only with the interests of the revenue
and not with those of the country as a whole, and of the
general population. For him as for the rest of the Govern-176 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

ment the people were a more or less negligible quantity.
And as for his methods, since he was not over scrupulous,
many people derived benefit from them.

I will mention one example. The matter itself is not of
great importance, since it affected the interests only of a
limited number of persons, but it gives a picture of the
times.

One of the over numerous Grand Dukes had ventured
his private fortune in a disastrous enterprise. At consider-
able cost he had bought claims for extracting non-
existent iron ore; he had built blast furnaces and put in
machinery for manufacturing steel—in fine the young
man had lost all his millions. The whole family were very
much upset.

“The poor young man; it’s dreadful! Witte must
save him. Now or never is the time for him to prove his
devotion to the dynasty.”

In the ordinary way Witte would not have said no. It
cost him nothing and gained him friends in high quarters
whom he needed.

He was not much liked in those circles. In the ordinary
way the procedure was very simple. The money was
taken from the State till, and given to the young person
who needed it. But not as a present. Oh, no—that would
have been illegal. It was lent to him, but without interest
or any fixed date for repayment. Thus the amount did
not have to be carried to the debit side, but remained a
perpetual asset—though not a liquid one, but merely as
an item in sundry debtors’ account. It was just a loan,
and the statement of the income and expenditure of the
State demonstrated that all was for the best in the best of
all possible empires.1895-1904 79

But it was now becoming more and more difficult to
have recourse to this harmless kind of generosity. Those
“dirty journalists’ and others were rummaging about
everywhere, poking their nose into other people’s business,
and in spite of the muzzle of the censorship they were
arousing popular feeling.

So this time a different course of action was taken.
Witte summoned his friend and counsellor Rothstein and
asked him to form a company—to be called, say, Steel
Limited—and by this means to buy the claims and fac-
tories belonging to the young man at the price which he
had paid.

“In other words,” observed Rothstein, who liked to
call a spade a spade, and did not hesitate to do so, “‘ you
are asking me to conduct a fictitious sale; to get a fool
out of the mud and fall into it myself. No, your Excel-
lency, I’ve had enough of that. The bank has no money
to lose.”’

“But it won’t lose money. To make a business succeed
all you want is good management. And if the business goes
wrong in spite of your skill it won’t be the bank but the
fools of subscribers who will pay. You will make a profit.
You know how to take advantage of a rise. Only don’t
let the rise be too sudden. That’s bad for the
Bourse.”’

‘« After all,’”’ said Rothstein, ‘“‘ why not ? God made the
shareholder to be gulled and ministers to be served by
bankers.”

And the young man got his money back with a slight
margin of profit, which is always comforting. And the
business succeeded marvellously. Witte acquired friends,
the revenue lost nothing, the bank made a profit and the
M178 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM
shareholders suffered the inevitable fate of shareholders
—they were plucked.

But these little affairs of the gilded youth did not always
end so happily. Thus the matter of the Zalon forests ended
in a war with Japan, and the war in Russia’s defeat. And
it was the people who paid with their blood and money
for the broken pieces.

I am sorry that Count Witte—he was created a Count
after Washington—should have published his Memoirs.
In their writings, as a rule, authors try to appear better
than they really are. Witte did the opposite. He dis-
paraged himself. His Memoirs depict him as a smaller
and more cunning man, more of a parvenu and less of a
man of taste than he really was. In reading them one
cannot help wondering that a man of that stamp should
have played such a remarkable role.

As I have just referred to Rothstein I must say a few
words about him. He was the most intelligent, most
original, most impossible and most amusing of men. He
was not in the least like the traditional banker who looks
as if he had just stepped out of a bandbox and is cold,
polite, affable and always ready to say pleasant things,
and to lighten your pocket. Rothstein was short, ugly,
untidy and badly dressed; he looked rather like a
Bohemian gorilla. He was good-hearted, though he
affected ferocity, and would lay out his man with a word ;
he had a delightful humour and saw your drift before he
had heard what you said, and almost without troubling to
think he arrived at the solution of the most complicated
questions. Most men approached him with fear and
trembling. I was fond of him. I don’t know whether he
was fond of me, but we got on excellently together.1895-1904 179

The big dinners he gave almost every Thursday were
miraculous affairs. The gourmets would lick their fingers.
The wines were unique, and the cooking was worthy of
Lucullus.

As for the people one met, they were a marvellous
collection. Ambassadors and dago schemers from impos-
sible countries, mummers and ministers, eminent artists
and nobodies and old friends of our host, who had started
life as an office boy in Berlin. He always forgot to intro-
duce people, a habit which occasioned some very amusing
misunderstandings.

I was once sitting next to a man in black wearing a
coloured tie. He had fuzzy hair like a native of Borneo.
But on reflexion I decided that he must come from
Paraguay or Uruguay, countries which are now members
of the League of Nations, but were then only known by
geographers. I had heard him utter some words in bad
French to the wife of a Secretary at the French Embassy,
and we started a conversation in that language, although
it was hardly a conversation, for I did all the talking.
He was in difficulties with his vocabulary. As I had heard
him say to his neighbour that he was going to Moscow,
and as I did not know what to talk to him about, I
thought I might as well tell him something about the city
he was going to see, and at the same time I gave him a
brief account of the history of Muscovy in the condensed
form suitable for a person quite ignorant on the subject.
He seemed most interested in what I was saying; then,
when I hazarded a date he observed, ‘“‘ No, that did not
happen in the fifteenth century, but in 1549.”

“ Are you certain ?” I asked.

“ Absolutely,” he replied. ‘“‘You will find it in...”
and he mentioned the authoritative document.180

“ Do you read Russian ?”’

“ Of course I do. Iam Russian; in fact I am professor
of history at Moscow University.”

‘Well, why aren’t we speaking our own language ?”
I said to him in Russian.

‘‘ What, do you know Russian ?” he asked with surprise.

“ Of course, I am Russian.”

We laughed. I told him that I had mistaken him for a
foreigner. He said he had made a similar mistake, and
when I asked him what he had imagined my nationality to
be he replied South American.

‘ Brazil, Paraguay or Uruguay ?”’ I suggested.

‘‘ Yes, something of the kind.”

I felt sorry for the wretched Rothstein at the dinners,
and amused at him too; he looked so thoroughly bored.
He did his best to make himself pleasant, but he was
suggestive of the lively grimaces of a corpse before it is
taken off the gibbet. I got bored with these dinners too
after a time, but I could not stop going. He would never
have forgiven me. And he was too amusing and useful
to me for me to quarrel with him.

‘You'll come to-morrow, won’t you ?” he said to me
the day before one of these banquets. “ Don’t fail. Iam
always glad to see someone else, especially a friend,
being as bored as I am. My dinners are amusing, aren't
they ? And they cost mea pretty penny. Do you know
what my last effort cost ? Five hundred roubles a head,
and in the old days when I was a Bohemian outsider we
had feasts for five marks at which we revelled like young
gods. These wretched dinners will be the ruin of me. And
one day I shall collapse with boredom.”

FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM1895-1904 181

“Would you like to do a good piece of business ?”’
said I.

“ Of course I would; that’s my job. Quick. Out with
i

“T dine at your house about forty times a year. Let us
assume that in spite of the dreadful things you sometimes
do to me we remain friends for the next five years. I would
cost you altogether, at five hundred roubles a dinner,
more than a hundred thousand roubles. Pay me cash—
say fifty thousand roubles, and don’t ask me to another
dinner. You and I would both gain.”

He laughed. “It’s not a bad idea,” he said, “ but
impossible to carry out. The others would imitate you,
and being less honest than you, would come and dine
again after pocketing the money, and I would be out of
pocket on the deal. Besides, you don’t get value out of
beasts unless you feed them. They must be fattened for
the table. And I need most of the beasts. I invite the
intelligent people in order not to feel lonely. It’s very sad
always to be alone. Life is no joke.”’

One day Witte told him that he was going to receive a
decoration.

“What an honour. Might I ask what order ?”’

“The order of Saint Anne.”

“ Oh, dear! Your Excellency, do try and make it a
different one. A saint’s order! For me, a Jew! Why
don’t you get me the order of the Redeemer? Fora Jew
that would have been so much more appropriate.’

At one of the dinners a guest observed that there was
no such thing as unalloyed happiness.

““ My experience does not confirm that,’’ said Rothstein.
~ When I was thirteen, and an office boy, I lived in an un-182 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

heated attic and I only had a wretched blanket that was
too short for me. If I covered my feet my body froze, and
if I pulled it up my feet froze. I was dead tired and could
not sleep ; I suffered in a way which you, who have been
born rich, cannot understand. Then one day I had a
blanket to suit my size. My happiness was unqualified. I
have never known such happiness since.’’

For many years I had been chairman and managing
director of various limited companies, and I often had to
see the Minister of Finance on these matters.

One day Rothstein said to me, ‘‘ That fellow, Witte, is
plaguing me to form a company for developing the natural
resources to the West of the Caucasus. All the high per-
sonages have acquired lands there, and that devil wants
to make himself pleasant to them. For the last few weeks
he has constantly been bringing up the matter. I have
made enquiries and sent a man to inspect. But the
country is sparsely populated and there are no means of
communication. It is a beautiful desert in which there is
nothing to be done for the moment. You will quite
understand that I cannot give a blank refusal and run
the risk of a quarrel. In Russia a lad like that can ruin
you with the greatest ease; and when his whims are
opposed Witte is just the man to do so. But I hope that
he will leave me alone now and try elsewhere. I have
evaded him with some skill.”

“ How ?”

“ T told him that I didn’t know the country, that such
a scheme should be launched not by a foreigner—that
alone would cause an outcry—but by a Russian, and that1895-1904 183

I knew a man who had already launched two big ventures
in the Caucasus. I mentioned your name; so be on your
guard. He’ll tackle you next.”’

“ Thanks ; that was awfully kind of you.”

“Not at all; friends must do each other a good turn.”

“ But I too am anxious to remain on good terms with
him, my kind friend.”

“ Yes, you had better see that you do. He is revengeful.
Anyhow there is always a way out. As you see, I’ve
managed to get out of my little difficulty. Try to follow
my example. Conduct a preliminary investigation ; send
engineers. I will defray half the expenses—you see I am
generous in my dealings. In a word procrastinate. Be-
sides, who knows ? Maybe you will find something there.”

At my very next interview with him, instead of discuss-
ing the business I had come to see him about, Witte began
to hold forth about the shores of the Black Sea and the
immeasurable riches to be won there.

“We have already built a road,” he said, “‘ along the
whole shore. Communications are an essential prelimi-
nary ; I have given four millions to the Prince of Olden-
bourg to build a health resort at Gagry and five millions
for a road to the town of Romanovsk.”’

“ Romanovsk ? Where is Romanovsk ?”’

“ Don’t you know Romanovsk ?”’

“No, I know the coast, but I have never heard of that
town.”’

“How odd. When were you last in that part of the
country ?”’

‘““ About ten years ago.”

“That explains it. Do you know the Beau Plateau,
otherwise called the Krasnaya Poliana ?’’184 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

‘““Yes, by name. But I have never been there. It’s
hard to get at from the sea.”’

‘That's true. Well, a town has recently been built
there. It has grown up with a rapidity that is quite
American. And according to Abaza it is growing in the
most amazing way. It has a prodigious future. And in
honour of our august dynasty Abaza has christened it
the town of the Romanovs. It makes quite an interesting
story. Unfortunately I cannot tell it you to-day, because
as you see I have still a crowd of people to see. It’s four
o’clock already and there are more than thirty people
waiting. So let’s get down to brass tacks. As you know,
the State has done pretty well by the country already.
But it cannot do everything alone. Private enterprise
must take a hand. Found a big company, something really
important, a venture that can pay good dividends. Others
will then follow your example. You understand ?”’

“ Perfectly. But what do you want ? A mining enter-
PLSe Olt . 2.

‘“‘ That’s your business ; it’s all the same to me. But it
must be a sound enterprise of the kind that gets itself
talked about. It’s a splendid country; more beautiful
than the Riviera. As sunny as Nice. The roses bloom in
midwinter. It has everything. Go and see Kovalevsky ;
he wiil tell you more about it. That’s settled then. When
you have been there we shall discuss the matter further.
See you again soon. But don’t be too long. His Majesty
is personally interested in the country. Above all, don’t
forget to discuss it with Abaza.”’

He rang for the usher. ‘‘ Show in the next caller.”’

“ But, your Excellency, I had come to talk to you
about our, . ..”1895-1904 185
‘““That’s quite impossible to-day. Come another time.

I’ve got a crowd of people waiting and I must be at the

Council at six. Good-bye ; go and see Kovalevsky.”

I knew Kovalevsky well. He was an important person
in the business world, director of the Department of
Commerce and Industry, and Witte’s evil genius. A very
able and intelligent schemer; though very superficial,
he was the typical high official of the time.

A characteristic and perhaps genuine heartiness made
him popular with everybody. He would promise anything,
and having done so, considered that he had done his duty.
That was well known, but none bore him ill will on that
account. It was the general practice.

But who on earth was this Abaza whom Witte talked
about ? One Abaza had been a minister, but he was dead,
another was a naval officer, a third. . . I had not heard of
a third.

‘“‘T was expecting you,’ said Kovalevsky when I went
to see him. ‘‘ The Minister told me you were coming.
What a marvellous man he is! It’s astounding. He always
manages to seize the psychological moment. The coast of
the Caucasus, you know, is very much on the tapis just
now. His Majesty and all St. Petersburg are interested
in it. Abaza has made it fashionable. He is a very clever
fellow, Abaza! Why, with a gesture he has founded and
brought to prosperity the town of Romanovsk. After the
final pacification of the Caucasus in 1864 most of the native
Mahomedans emigrated to Turkey, and the coast became
practically a desert. In order to revive the country the
Government is offering land there dirt cheap. Abaza is in
charge of the business. The whole of St. Petersburg has
brought land, but nobody is venturing to start anything.

 

,186 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEViIcSM

And they are certainly right. I have land there, too, and
am leaving it fallow myself. Prices will soon go up and
then I shall sell. Abaza assures me. . .”

“Who is this Abaza that everyone’s talking about,
your Excellency ?”’

“What ? Don’t you know Abaza? Where have you
been all this time ? Abaza! Why he’s the man of the
hour.”

“ T thought the man just now in favour with His Majesty
was Philip the mesmerist.”’

‘ Philip foretells the future for His Majesty, and inter-
prets his destiny. He is the man of the hour in matters
spiritual. A pure charlatan ; and anyhow, I believe that
his reign is over. Abaza is a serious person. He will bring
to the surface the vast riches of the coast and heap gold
upon all of us.”

He proceeded to tell me a long yarn, which I just
accepted as a fable of the Arabian Nights. I did not yet
know that the period of charlatans and of favourites for a
day had come.

I learnt that Abaza, who but yesterday was quite un-
known, had just been appointed a member of the Im-
perial Council and sent to the coast armed with full power.
In a word he was a power in the land.

He had managed to attach numerous supporters to
himself. Instead of giving the State lands to colonists
who would have cultivated them, he distributed them
amongst the powerful, who seized upon them simply
speculating on an early rise in value.

“But let us get back to the point,”
‘“ What have you decided to do ?”

said Kovalevsky.1895-1904 187

‘‘ Nothing as yet. I am trying to get my bearings, but
have not succeeded. I hope that you. . .”

‘“‘Come, come, my dear Baron. I like that. The coun-
try’s rolling in riches. It has everything. Nice sunshine.
Roses blooming in midwinter.”’

“Quite ! The minister, too, spoke about the sun and the
roses. But I wonder whether your Excellency would
grant me authority to issue a few million shares on the
Course for the exploitation of the sun and flowers.”’

He began to laugh. ‘‘ Why not, if the minister wishes
itst

“The minister wants a sound business, paying good
dividends. Something different from the Steel Company
of painful memory.”

“ Oh, hang it! That’s certainly not easy and is another
matter. Of course, Abaza says there are considerable
deposits of coal, petrol and vast other natural riches. Of
course, the public must not be deceived . . . but between
ourselves . . . if Witte’s made up his mind that the
business shall pay good dividends. I’ll tell you what.
Why not talk to Abaza ?”

“ By all means.”

“T have to go to Batum. On my way back I can stop at
Sotcky, where Abaza lives. Meet me there. The journey
to a successful conclusion whatever happens. I'll tell
Abaza to-day to expect you. Is that allright ?”’

“ Agreed.”

In the evening I paid a rare visit to my club. I ascer-
tained that Witte had certainly seized the psychological
moment. The coast was the one topic of conversation.
“Land would go up in value.” Abaza said, “ Witte had.188 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

promised.”” Abaza was certainly a sly dog and an expert
advertiser.

Some days afterwards Kovalevsky told me that he was
starting for Batum. I went to Odessa, where I took ship
for Sotcky.

After all I had heard in St. Petersburg I expected to find
the coast quite changed from when I had known it. But
except for a new road which nobody used, and on which
the weeds were encroaching, everything was as of old. It
was an uninhabited paradise, stifled by the excessive
luxuriance of its vegetation.

The only hotel in the little town was crowded out. His
Excellency’s whole suite of engineers, surveyors and
officials of every kind were staying there. Fortunately he
had been good enough to keep a room for me; but for
which I should have been reduced to spend the night
under the stars.

When I had changed I went to see Abaza, who lived
outside the town.

Monsieur Abaza was very prosperous. He was tall and
spare, had a fine presence; the heavy lead playing the
benevolent prince. In every gesture he seemed to be
saying: “ You see how kindly I am condescending to
you, but don’t forget that I am a most important person.

‘My august master,” ‘“ my adored sovereign,” ‘“‘ my
faithful duty as a subject,” ‘‘my devotion to His Majesty,”’
all these phrases, much abused by rascals at the time, were
always on the tip of his tongue. And as he uttered them he
threw out his chest and threw back his head with the
expression of a love-sick tenor and oozed servility.

But these elaborate tricks were a little too obvious.
With us in the capital such folk were less blatant.1895-1904 159

“You have been warmly commended to me by my
friend, the Minister of Finance,” said Abaza, “and I am
ready to do anything I can to help you, provided, of
course, that your wishes are in harmony with the interests
of the country. My august master has made me the guar-
dian of it and my first consideration must be the success
of the task with which I have been entrusted and not the
interests of individuals. That is my duty as a faithful
subject of my adored Sovereign and asa patriot.”

“T personally want nothing, Your Excellency. M.
Witte asked me to see if I could start anything here, and,
if possible, to float a public company. He must be unaware
that capital is pouring in here in such quantities. He
wanted somebody to start the ball rolling. As this has
already been done there is no point in my interfering.”

I took up my hat and prepared to leave.

‘But, my dear Baron, you have misunderstood me.
It is true that everybody wants to do business here because
they know that there are enormous profits to be made and
it is not capital that we want, anything but, but I am
cautious, perhaps over cautious, and so I asked M. Witte
to find a man whom I could thoroughly rely upon. Won't
you sit down. I see that you are the man we want. I am
sure we shall get on together.”

And he got down to the job like a cool commercial
traveller. ‘‘ Here are iron ore, copper, silver, coal, zinc,
petroleum.”

In fine, there was everything in the world. It was quite
a laboratory of minerals. In fact, there was too much to
be convincing, and if I asked him if any particular deposit
were rich he invariably replied, “Thousands of millions of
tons.” An hour of this was enough. I felt it was uselessI90 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

to speak to this man, and decided to wait for Kovalevsky.
In order not to break off the conversation too abruptly,
I.turned to a topic which I thought should be congenial—
the town of Romanovsk. “I gather that is going to bea
very beautiful city ? One hears marvellous things about
it.” He made a deprecating gesture.

“Tt will be a beautiful city ; but there is still much that
wants to be done. You know, St. Petersburg people always
exaggerate somewhat. Things are moving, but not as
quickly as I could wish. I will show you the plans of the
town. His Majesty has deigned to approve them. That
is the town hall.”

‘“ Well, that’s charming.”

“ That’s the casino. What do you think of it?”

“ Delightful.”

‘These are the baths, but I am not satisfied with
them. They are perfect inside. But the front. . .”

‘As long as they are comfortable, that is the main
thing.”

‘ That is the cathedral.”’

‘ Magnificent.’

‘Yes, but it’s not finished yet. His Majesty has given
me reason to hope that he will be present at the opening
ceremony.’

I was dazzled. These buildings were really beautiful.

“I must go and see them. How long does it take to
get to Romanovsk ?”’

“Yes, I wish you would go, but it takes some time.
The plateau is almost inaccessible from this side. There
is a path where you risk breaking your neck, and after
that you have to cross the terrible Black Forest described
by Tolstoi in his ‘“‘ Prisoner of the Caucasus.’’ You cannot1895-1904 191
escape catching fever. Wait until the road is built. Just
now it can only be reached from the other side of the
mountains. It’s not really so far away. It takes three or
four days to get there and as many to come back, and then
you want three or four days to spend there. If you havea
free fortnight, that would be enough. It is a journey
which is certainly well worth while.”’

‘“ Unfortunately I must wait for Kovalevsky here, then
return to St. Petersburg. I can’t manage a fortnight.’

‘“ That’s a pity. I should have liked you to have seen it.
To speak without false modesty, it’s well worth while.
While we are about it, do you want to buy some land ?
Prices are going up. They are already rising every day.”

“No, thank you.”

Next day Abaza came to ask me to dine with him.
As I was on the way to his house I met Count Sergius
Cheremetieff, who was a friend of the Emperor.

“ You here ?”

‘ Yes, I landed yesterday,” said the Count. ‘‘ I bought
some land here and am going to build. Where are you
going ?”

“Tam dining with Abaza.’’

50 am,’

On our way we talked about the country and also, of
course, about the beautiful city of Romanovsk. I asked
the Count whether he had been there.

“No. Abaza is going there to-morrow, and I wanted to
go with him, but he said so much against the journey
that I’ve given up the idea. I am absolutely terrified of
malaria. And then there is the long journey on horse-
pack: 3.”

“Why is Abaza going?”[92 EROM SEREFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

‘Tt seems that he has got to build a tunnel not pro-
vided for in the original plan of the road, and an official
from the Imperial Board of Control has arrived to investi-
gate on the spot how far this is essential. As you know,
control of expenditure is now very thorough and very
strict. And as these gentry are very efficient, Abaza is
making a point of showing his things himself. I think he
is going to unnecessary trouble, because a man in Abaza’s
position need not fear.”’

‘“T should very much like to ask him to take me with
him.”’

‘‘T certainly should; you are not afraid of fever and
the fag of the journey as I am.”’

I spoke about it to Abaza at dinner.

“‘T should have been more than delighted,” he said,
‘but I could never take the responsibility.”

He proceeded to give a long catalogue of all the misfor-
tunes that could assail me. It amounted to a definite
refusal of my request.

It would have been indiscreet to press the point, but
Cheremetieff came to my assistance. As I had seen and
noted when we arrived, Abaza ate out of the Count’s
hand, as he knew him to be the favourite of his adored
Sovereign, so, whether he liked it or not, he had to give
way in the end. But it seemed to me that he did not like
doing so at all; he returned to the topic several times and
always on the same note.

‘‘T ask you to bear me witness, Count, that I have made
every effort to dissuade the Baron from coming with me.
If he falls ill I shan’t feel responsible ; I have warned him
and have only yielded at your request.”’1895-1904 193

He pleaded so successfully that as we were on our way
home Cheremetieff told me not to go.

‘“These wretched Causasus fevers are the very devil
when you're not accustomed to the climate.”

He buttonholed the proprietor of the hotel.

‘Do you know the way leading to Krasnaya Poliana?”’

“Which way, Count ?”’

‘Through the Black Forest.”

“ A terrible place. I nearly lost my life there.”

“You see what he says,’’ said Cheremetieff. “ Take my
advice and don’t go. Wait until the road is finished. If
you were to catch fever I should never forgive myself for
having helped you to go on this foolish adventure.”

But next day we were in a carriage driving along the
road towards Adler through the most beautiful country
in the world.

When we came to a certain rather narrow valley we
got out of the carriage. The horses, mules laden with
provisions, engineers, and Cossacks—a whole caravan—
was waiting for us. We needed about eight hours to reach
Krasnaya Poliana on horseback ; the plateau which was
the site of Romanovsk.

I shall never forget that ride. All went well at first. We
went up a gentle incline through a delightful valley
covered with flowers, and then through smiling pastures.
Suddenly we entered the forest ; a forest such as I had
never seen. It was a nightmare ; a tomb covered with a
roof of leaves—black, impenetrable and dismal—it was
absolutely impervious to the sun’s rays; fantastic
scenery, such as might have been the product of a diseased
imagination. Grey, sickly trees stretched to an enormous
height—they looked like dried-up skeletons ; monstrous
NI94 FROM SEREDOM TO BOLESHEVIS™M

abortions, huge and gigantic. No blade of grass or foliage—
not a living creature. The fever had destroyed all life.
The air was stifling, the sweat rolled in torrents, my head
seemed to be in a vice, I felt as though I were going
mad; I thought I would die.

I got off my horse and wanted to walk, but after a few
steps I felt faint.

“Go back,”’ said Abaza, “ you will never get there. I
will give you two Cossacks to take you home.”

“ No, I shall stick it out.”

“It will take us five or six hours to get through this
horrible forest. Take my advice and go home.”

After another hour he came back to the charge. I was
quite ready to do as he wished, but his importunity pre-
vented me.

He had become intensely antipathetic to me; and as
he seemed to set so much store by it I would not yield.

We continued on our way, I scarcely know how. I had
lost the power of reflection and went on like an automaton.
If, instead of talking to me, Abaza had simply ordered
somebody to take my horse by the bridle and turn it
about I should have acquiesced.

We were revived by a breath of fresh air. A dim light
shone through the tree trunks. Our horses spontaneously
raised their heads and broke into a trot. A magnificent
picture was spread before our eyes. We were on a delight-
ful plateau, dotted here and there with ancient chestnuts
and surrounded by huge rocks which were illuminated
by the setting sun. At our feet the sea stretched to the
horizon, covered with long streaks of gold and silver.

“ How lovely it is,” I said.
 Yes,’’ said an old Cossack, who was walking next to1895-1904 195
me, who had also halted his horse. “ There is only one
country in the world that is as beautiful, our Caucasus.
And there is only one plateau like this one, our Krasnaya
Poliana.”’

“ It is a pity that in order to get here from the coast it
should be necessary to pass through that horrible Black
Forest.”

“ But you can get here from another road, from Adler,”’
said the old man.

‘Well, why didn’t we come that way ?”

“T’m afraid I don’t know, your Honour. The escort
originally had orders to meet near Adler and then, yester-
day, we got different orders to meet here. We were told
that we should go through the Black Forest. We were
quite surprised.”’

While we were stopping to admire the marvellous view
our companions had gone on ahead.

We saw them stop and genuflect in front of a small
wooden shed with a cross on top of it.

“ We built that chapel with a few boards of wood to
sing a Te deum in 1864,” said my Cossack. ‘‘ It was here
we heard the news of the final pacification of the country.”

Instead of getting on their horses again and continuing
the journey, our companions, with Abaza leading, went
leading their horses, towards a group of three small huts
in front of which some mountain folk had gathered.

I asked my Cossack how far we were from Romanovsk.
He gazed at me with astonishment.

~ From Romanovsk ? Why, your Honour, we are there.
Krasnaya Poliana is to be known by that name in future.”’

‘“ Yes, I know. But what about the town? Is it far
away ?”’196 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

‘Tt is here, your Honour, that the town is to be built,”’
and, as with St. Paul on the way to Damascus, a great
light fell upon me. This was the beautiful city, with its
Renaissance casino, its magnificent hotel, its well-fitted
baths, whose facade only was incomplete. This was the
town about which everybody was talking at St. Peters-
burg—these three wretched log cabins were Romanovsk.
And the little shed with the cross on top was the cathe-
dral—not finished, it is true, but soon to be so.

Next day, when we got back to Sotchy, by Adler this
time—for the Black Forest had served its purpose—the
hotel porter told me that His Excellency General Kova-
levsky with his wife and suite had arrived and had asked
for me and that they would call on me next day.

So he had come at last! It was six days later than the
date which he had fixed.

I was still in bed next morning when Kovalevsky
without knocking, burst into my room.

“Have you any cigarettes? I've run out.”’

“Well, you're here at last,’ I replied. ‘“T had almost
lost hope of seeing you.”

“Tm so sorry. What’s the time? My watch has
stopped.”

‘ Half-past ten.”’

“Oh! Good heavens! I promised to see Cheremetieft
at nine o’clock precisely. I’m off.”

“ But I’ve got some things to talk to you about.’’

‘Later on.”

“Only a few words.”

“Impossible. I make a point of being punctual.
Punctuality is the politeness of kings.”

‘Wait a moment.”1895-1904 197

“ Impossible. Let’s lunch at one, if that suits you. We
shall be able to talk at our leisure then.”

“Very well.”’

““ Please be punctual. Time is money. I have an appoint-
ment with Abaza at three o’clock.”

At one o'clock precisely I was waiting in the hotel
dining-room. He came at half-past two, and he was not
alone, but with “ his wife’ as the hotel porter called her.
I knew “‘ his wife’”’ by sight. She was his mistress—a fat
and elderly chorus girl from a small theatre.

“T hope I am not late,’ said Kovalevsky. “ Let's sit
down. And now we can talk at our leisure about your
business.’

He had forgotten his wife. She did the talking. When
once she was started it was impossible to stop her.

The clock struck four.

Kovalevsky jumped up.

“ The clock’s mad. What time is it by your watch ?”’

“Exactly twenty past four.”

“Good heavens! And I had an appointment with
Abaza at three o’clock precisely. By the way, do you
know that he’s furious with you ? I'll tell you about that
later. Now I must be off.”

“No, no, Vladimir Ivanovitch. We've got some things
to talk over. As you're late already, half-an-hour more
Omless, 5.

Oh, no, no, Punctuality is: © -

I interrupted him.

‘““ Anyhow, I can’t stay here for an indefinite time.’

‘“‘ Let’s see.’”’ He took out his pocket-book.. “I am
dining with Abaza. Then I have to go and see the mayor ;
but to-morrow morning I am entirely at your disposal.

”?198 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM
At eight o’clock precisely, if that suits you? See that
nobody interrupts. That’s all right. Eight o’clock pre-
cisely ; try to be ready, I’m always punctual. Good-bye.”’

And he was off.

Next day I waited for him till eleven. Then, as he still
had not arrived, I sent to ask whether he was up. The
porter himself came to tell me that His Excellency
General Kovalevsky, with ‘‘ wife and suite,” had left for
Odessa with the six o’clock boat and had told him to
give me a note. This said that Kovalevsky had had a
telegram the previous evening, which made it necessary for
him fo return to St. Petersburg. He added in a postscript:
“Try to come back as soon as possible, and come and see
me at once, as soon as you do.”’ He had omitted to add :
Time is money.

The same evening I went away, too, without saying
good-bye to Abaza.

I had seen Witte and Kovalevsky several times, but we
never mentioned the coast again or the proposed company.
The psychological moment was passed. Witte had other
worries. A storm was brewing in the Far East.

I have never since heard Abaza or the beautiful city of
Romanovsk mentioned. Does it really exist or is Krasnaya
Poliana still the beautiful desert that it was? I do not
know. Anyway, to-day, when people are wondering
whether Russia herself exists or not, it is not a matter of
any importance.

As I have referred to Abaza I ought to mention some
of the others—I don’t quite know what to call them.
‘“Scum”’ is coarse and also somewhat vague ; “ favour-
ites’’ is not the right word—shall we say “‘ passades.”’
As we know, that was the name given to those ladies who,1895-1904 199
without becoming established mistresses of King Louis
XV, provided his more casual pleasures, and established a
temporary hold upon him. This word seems to be equally
fitted to the men who, although not officially in power,
succeeded for the time being in establishing their ascen-
dancy over the vacillating will of the poor innocent who,
under the name of Nicholas II, occupying the throne of the
most extensive Empire in the world, led the country to
destruction.

I shall confine myself to one or two—to those whose
names have become known to the general public. Other-
wise the list would be too long. I cannot even mention all
of these, but only those who were particularly notorious
and contributed in large measure to discredit their
Sovereign in the eyes of his people.

I have already referred to his fancy for Philippe. If I
am not mistaken, Philippe was a Frenchman of Lyon, who
professed the power of miraculous healing and used to
foretell the future to simple women. He had been con-
victed of several frauds and was closely watched by the
police. But, somehow or other, two ladies belonging to
high society in Russia, whose names I know, though I
refrain from mentioning them, introduced him to our
Sovereign when they came to France. He succeeded in
imposing on them and he was summoned to Czarskoe-
Selo.

For the sake of appearances—for at that time the
Court had still a sense of shame—they approached the
French Government with a view to having a medical
degree conferred upon the charlatan. As they were not
successful in this, they did without it, and his degree was
conferred upon him by the medical authorities in Russia,200 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

He was also made a Councillor of State, which gave him
the right to the title of Excellency.

He wore a special uniform ad hoc, lived in a villa
attached to the Imperial Palace, foretold the future for
the Czar, gave him advice on men and affairs, grew rich
and did himself well. Probably he would have succeeded
in becoming all powerful as Rasputin, another fugitive
from justice, did soon afterwards, if he had not queered
his own pitch just at the moment when, with a little luck,
he could have carried everything before him.

Their Majesties had four daughters, and their most
fervent prayer was to have a son to inherit the throne.
Philippe persuaded them that he possessed the secret of
controlling the gender and conception, and succeeded in
hypnotising the Empress into the belief that she was
with child. There was great rejoicing ; this time they
were to have an heir to the throne! They were so
certain about it that they almost shouted it from the
housetops.

And then, one fine day, in the eighth month of pregnancy,
it turned out that Her Majesty could not be expecting
either a son or a daughter. Her pregnancy was merely the

effect of a morbid imagination.

Philippe was sent back to France.

He was succeeded by a group of priests. They said that
if a holy man called Serafime, who had died at Sarov, a
convent in the interior of Russia, were canonized and if
the Empress would bathe in the well from which the holy
man drew his water, she would have a son.

Serafime was canonized by order of the Emperor. Her
Majesty took the prescribed bath and, marvellous to
relate, she gave birth to an heir. After this the poor1895-1904 201
woman became a mystic in truly medieval fashion. And
the Emperor, who always did what he was told, became
one too.

His fancy for Achinov is a very amusing story. It is
rather a long one, but I shall tell it and pass over others
which are less funny.

I must go back rather a long time. A young officer,
called Leontiev, was obliged to leave the service after
having run through his money ; he went to Abyssinia and
offered Menelik, ‘“‘ the king of kings and the lion of Abys-
sinia ’’—that was his official title—his services, a musical
box which he had bought at Odessa and a double-barrelled
gun, saying that the most powerful monarch in the world,
the Emperor of Russia, had decided to send him gifts.
Menelik was touched. Leontiev remained in his service,
succeeded in winning his regard and was soon created
Count of Abyssinia and Governor-General of the Provinces
of the Equator.

In the meantime Menelik had attracted attention, and
France and England had entered into relations with him.

Leontiev thought it his duty to convey this information
to our Government, and then came to St. Petersburg and
proposed that the Foreign Office should make use of his
SeIvices.

There was some excitement at the Pont-aux-Chantres.
We could not let the other Powers get in first; but it was

impossible to employ as our agent a gentleman whom
nobody knew. Leontiev was turned down.

One fine day the man suited for this delicate mission
was discovered.

His name was Achinov ; he was headman of the inde-202 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

pendent Cossacks, ‘‘ Volyne Kasaky.’’ None ever dis-
covered who these independent Cossacks were or where
they lived ; indeed, nobody ever tried. His Majesty him-
self had discovered this treasure and had instructed his
ministers to arrange matters with him. After that it was
naturally superfluous to take up references.

I once had the good fortune of meeting him and re-
ceived the signal honour of a long conversation with him.
He was a rustic of the worst type, who could neither read
nor write, nor even blow his nose, for which purpose he
used his fingers ; completely ignorant but shameless and
insolent ; a regular rascal and a drunkard.

He left on a secret mission to the country of the “king
of kings.’’ A few weeks later (it was surprising how he
had succeeded in doing the long journey in so short a time)
he returned and brought with him a young leopard and a
young African girl, the great king’s own daughter. The
leopard was a present from Menelik to the Emperor and
the girl was entrusted by the king as a mark of friendship
to the care of Her Imperial Majesty.

The leopard was sent to the Zoological Gardens and the
coloured princess to the institute for the daughters of the
nobility, to be educated there in a manner suitable to a
girl of royal descent.

Then the headman of the independent Cossacks left
for Abyssinia, generously supplied with gold, on a steam-
ship chartered by the Government, with a whole troop
of his Cossacks, who were armed and equipped at the
expense of the State. Under the influence of drink he
besieged the town of Obok, where the French flag was
already flying. We had the very greatest difficulty in
hushing up this incident. Achinov was disclaimed by his1895-1904 203
Government. “ Russia has never heard of this individual
and does not even know where he comes from. Russia
has never had any independent Cossacks. “‘

Thanks to the goodwill of the French Government, the
affair had no consequences.

When enquiries were made (better late than never),
it was discovered that the headman of the independent
Cossacks was a Saratov cobbler who had never been to
Abyssinia. The daughter of the great king was a young
creature whom he had picked up at Constantinople, and
the leopard came from a Warsaw menagerie.

His Majesty made himself ridiculous over his fancies,
Philippe and Achinov, but they did not have such bloody
and disastrous consequences as his fancy Bezobrazov.
This gentleman, or rather this fellow, a former officer of
the Guard, and a person of no qualifications whatever, was
the moving spirit of a group of ne’r-do-wells belonging to
the best society of the capital who, with the support
of his Majesty himself, had launched the unsavoury
enterprise of the Yalou Forest, an enterprise which,
as is now generally known, resulted in the Japanese
war.

The whole of this unpleasant business was floated
by Bezobrazov and the Emperor personally and carried
on behind the backs of the Ministers and of our Ambassa-
dor in Japan, although they may have known something
of it (they had had wind of the affair). The poor Emperor
thought that he was carrying out a magnificent work and
did not realise that, without his suspecting it, he was
being made to play a most dishonourable part. Bezo-
brazov was appointed Secretary of State and actually
became Prime Minister. When at last the unfortunate204 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

Sovereign saw that he had been fooled it was too late.
The harm had been done. Instead of being hanged, as he
deserved, Bezobrazov was ordered to live abroad. It was
characteristic of Nicholas II to show leniency to the
undeserving.CHAPTER VII
1904-1914

On the 26th January, 1904, Japan attacked the Russian
fleet without warning and sunk three of our ships. Next
day war was declared.

I do not believe that a war has ever been less popular.
The Russian people had never heard of Japan, and there
was therefore no reason for any additional hostility, as
there was in the case of Turkey, Poland or England.
Those who were in a position to judge, those, in fact, who
were more or less civilised, realised that the results of the
conflict, whatever they might be, were bound to be harm-
ful to Russia.

If Russia were victorious, the Czar, by which I mean
his Government (for the Czar himself was known to be
only a shadow), would make use of the opportunity to
strengthen absolutism and to treat Russia more than
ever before as a conquered country. If, on the other hand,
the campaign were lost, revolution would result and, as
any man of common sense knew, revolution in Russia
would not be a revolution in the European sense of the
word—that is, a mere change in the form of government—
but would result in massacres, in rivers of blood and in
the complete ruin of every vestige of civilisation, as indeed

happened a few years later.
205206 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

But nobody admitted the possibility of a defeat.

‘How could Japan, that little race of people, more like
monkeys than men, hope to fight against people like
ourselves !’’

Give the cheeky little fellows a punch on the nose and
the war would be over. These absurd little pygmies were
a great joke.

I only met three Russians who anticipated that the war
might end in disaster. They were Witte, General Drago-
mirov and my greatest friend, General Doshturov. When
Kuropatkin was made commander-in-chief, the latter
prophesied that defeat was inevitable. He said to me:

‘“T know Kuropatkin through and through. He is as
true as steel, knows his job, he is a good strategist and an
excellent administrator. He is an ideal chief of Staff, but
hopeless as a commander-in-chief. He will poke his
nose into every detail, want to do everything himself and
command each regiment, each battalion, and each platoon
personally ; in fact, he will make it impossible for the
individual commanders to do their duty. He will never
ask himself whether a thing is necessary, but he will
always be wondering whether it will give satisfaction in
high quarters. He is not a soldier, but a lackey; and
through his desire to please his chief and his fear of com-
promising himself at Court, he will turn tail at the critical
moment and everything will be lost.

Alas! Everything happened just as he had foretold.

I had been told much the same thing, though in other
words, by Skobelev, whose Chief of Staff Kuropatkin had
been. When I asked him whether he had been pleased with
Count Keller, a friend of mine, who had done duty for Kuro-
patkintemporarily whilethe latter was wounded, he replied;I904-I1914 207

“One of the best. A good worker, intelligent and
courageous. He was a most exceptional man; but I
myself preferred Kuropatkin.”’

“Why ?”’ I asked.

‘ Keller was Keller and Kuropatkin was simply my
man,”

As a matter of fact, on this occasion I must say that it
was not the Emperor who had shewn his usual bad judg-
ment, but public opinion that had been misled. When a
man was wanted who could bring about a victory every-
body shouted with one voice ‘‘ Kuropatkin.”’

“And why not he as well as another?” Dragomirov
asked with an innocent expression.

‘“ But, your Excellency, you forget that he was Chief of
Staff to Skobelev.”’

“Yes, and don’t you know who has been nominated
to succeed Skobelev ?”’

The future chief of the army had in one respect at least
turned the principles and example of Skobelev to account.
Like Skobelev, he got every kind of puff he could. Then
he left for the war, taking with him a whole truck-load of
holy images which he had had offered to him.

“ He has got too many saints,” said Dragomirov.
“ You'll find that soon he won’t know which is his par-
ticular patron saint.”’

My eldest son, too, had left for Manchuria. After
having got his degree as an engineer, he had done his
compulsory service with the Horse Guards ; then, having
been accepted for the examinations at the military
college, he passed and became an officer. But as we were
very far from thinking about a war, and as the life of a
soldier in peace time did not appeal to his energetic208
nature, he soon sent in his resignation. On the very day
of the declaration of war he rejoined the army and, at his
request, was attached to a Cossack regiment, part of the
advance guard which, under the command of General
Rennenkampf, was intended to be the first to come into
action against the Japanese army.

The war was disastrous from the very start. In March
the Japanese sank the ship carrying the Admiral com-
manding the Russian squadron; in April there was the
defeat at Turentchen and the Japanese attack at Eidsyvo ;
in August there was the heavy defeat at Liayan, which, as
we learned after the war from the Japanese themselves,
would have been a decisive victory for the Russians if
Kuropatkin had not turned tail at the last moment. Then,
finally, there was the disastrous retreat to Mukden.

But at St. Petersburg people were still saying that
everything was all right. A new fleet was to sail for the
Far East, Port Arthur was still holding out, and when the
fleet arrived a very little fighting would settle the
matter.

There were rejoicings in high quarters. The trivial
disappointment in Manchuria was of small account
compared with the auspicious event which had just taken
place. On the 30th July an heir to the throne had been
born. The future of the throne was assured and therefore
that of Russia also.

Port Arthur capitulated on the 22nd December.

We were uneasy at home. We had had fairly frequent
news of our son at the beginning of the war. We heard
that he had been decorated. Then we read a distressing
account in a paper of a man who got sunstroke during the
fighting. The correspondent had seen with his own eyes

FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISMLQOAS=TOE4 209
the Cossack lieutenant, Baron Wrangel, former officer in
the Horse Guards, being carried away dead on a stretcher.
Later we had a telegram from him himself, reading:
“ Health good, have just been promoted full lieutenant
for services rendered on the battle-field.’” And then for
some months we heard nothing.

At last he suddenly turned up one day. He had already
reached the rank of captain, but his condition was de-
plorable. He had been invalided home to recuperate.

He was hardly out of bed before he started pulling
every wire he could to be passed fit to rejoin his regiment.
Fortunately they laughed at him and told him to go and
look at himself in the glass and go back to bed.

My friend Doshturov told me that he had been told at
the War Office that my son was considered to be an
officer with a brilliant future before him. Doshturov was
delighted, as he had said so too.

What our son told us was not particularly reassuring.
He said that the army in the field, both men and regi-
mental officers were admirable, that the men were well-
disciplined, would endure any hardships and were steady
under fire, but they were short of many things, and the
Staff were for the most part deplorable. Those who had
capability were generally turned on to jobs for which they
were unfit. For instance, General Mistshenko, an unri-
valled artillery expert, had been placed in command of a
cavalry corps of the advance guard, although he had
never been on a horse, while General Rennenkampf, a
cavalry general if ever there was one, had been given the
command of an infantry division. The state of affairs in
the lines of communication was deplorable, and the worst
of it was that revolutionary propagandists were at work,
O210 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

not only behind the lines but at the front. The Intelli-
gentzia rivalled the Japanese agents in their zeal for
spreading disaffection amongst the troops. My son could
not say enough in praise of the Japanese army. They were
admirable in every Way ; but all the same we must per-
severe. We should get them in the end. Only he won-
dered what would happen afterwards. Whether we won
or were beaten we should have civil war.

It should not have been necessary to point this out
as it was obvious to everyone except to the ruling clique
who ought to have known better than anybody else ;
put they remained blind to all the evidence ; indeed, it
looked as though they had made up their minds to
bring about the civil war as speedily as possible.

Disturbances had occurred in Moscow as well as in
some other towns. In the country districts mansions
were being burned down and the owners were being
molested. At St. Petersburg itself disturbances were a
regular occurrence and numerous attacks were made
upon prominent persons. The Government replied by
repressive measures which were harsh rather than effec-
tive, and refused to go to the root of the matter.

After a time the Emperor issued a manifesto, conceived,
apparently, with the object of allaying public excitement,
but nobody understood what it meant. It made promises,
but nobody could see how they could be interpreted ;
they implied everything and nothing. It was maliciously
nicknamed ‘‘ The Muir and Meerrilies prospectus,” that
being the name of a large shop at Moscow which dealt
largely in cheap goods. When they met, people used. to
ask each other whether they had read it. The reply always
was: “ Yes, but I don't understand it. Do you ?”I904-IQ14 20r

Neither do I.”

Two Ministers asked me the question, and my reply
was the same on each occasion. An “ izvoztshik ” (that
is, a country coachman) asked me the question too. As
I did not want to discredit my Sovereign with him, I
replied that I hadn’t yet had time to read the Imperial
decree.

‘‘ Have you read it ?” I said to him.

I can’t read, but they read it out at the eating-place
I go to.”

“What is it about ?”

~ The Czar has said we shall have to pay new taxes.”

I think the good fellow was as near the truth of the
matter as any of us.

One day the principal works manager of Siemens &
Halscke, of which company I was the chairman, tele-
phoned asking me to come to the factory at once. He
said the workmen were putting forward ridiculous de-
mands, were threatening to strike, and refused to come to
an agreement with him or to negotiate with anybody
excepting one of the directors. I was considerably sur-
prised, for up to that time our relations with our workmen
had been perfect. In Russia, where industries have only
quite recently been introduced, the workman is not, as he
is in Europe, a man belonging to a working-class, that is
to say, a man whose father has been a workman like
himself. He is generally a young peasant who has but
lately come from the land, a young savage thrown out of
gear by contact with the town and liable to be influenced
to any course of action by the first person he meets.212 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

In fact, the men working in our factories were on the
whole better educated than the general average of the
Russian proletariat ; they were men who had been em-
ployed by us for many years, from father to son. They
were better paid than any other workmen and their lot
was preferable to that of others. I don’t want to suggest
that their lot was an enviable one. It certainly was not.
But our workmen knew as well as we did that the manage-
ment were not to blame, and that their troubles were due
to the police, who worried them in every kind of way ; the
police regarded every workman as a revolutionary and
used to arrest them and imprison them without any regard
to reason.

I went to the factory at once. The adjoining street was
full of workmen. The crowd grew more and more unruly
the further I went, soon they were openly hostile. “There’s
one of the rich who trample everybody under their feet,”’
was the kind of thing one heard.

Somebody threw a stone at me. I sent my coachman
home and went on on foot.

The engineer informed me of their complaints. There
were four pages of them; some of them were so un-
reasonable that our men could not possibly have been
responsible for them. Before discussing the matter with
them we secretly summoned some old workmen whom we
could trust.

‘Tell us what’s the matter,” we said. “ Frankly, we
don’t understand.”

“ Neither do we. It’s a lot of nonsense. Raise the wages
a little ; everything else is nonsense. They must be mad
to make stupid complaints of that kind.”

“But, then, why have you, who are reasonable menIQ904-1914 213
signed this petition as well as the others, whom you regard
as mad ?”

“The committee insisted that we should, sir.”

“What committee ?”’

“We don’t know.”

“ What! You are told to do something ridiculous by
people you don’t know, and without making any further
enquiries you do as you are told ?”’

We have to, sir. At the Nobel factories some of the
men kicked and the same night eight men were killed in
their homes. The same thing happened at Lessler’s. If
we all lived in the same district we could defend ourselves,
but we are scattered about all over the place. It is impos-
sible to do anything but obey.”

‘Who handed you the order of the committee which
you are talking about ?”’

‘ Some gentlemen who were very well dressed. In fact,
one of them was wearing a top hat ; another looked like a
student and wore uniform. Whoever they were, they
weren't workmen and they were good talkers. They
understood nothing about our business and they used
words which we could not understand.”

‘Yes,’’ said another man, laughing, ‘‘ some very funny
words they did use too!” and he gesticulated comically.
~ “ Dictatorship,’ ‘ proletariat,’ ‘international,’ words

which nobody understood. I told my mother about it ;
she said she was sure they were Japanese spies. My wife
thinks so too, but my son is certain that they were Jews.”

Our discussion ended without result and the strike
broke out. Then, three days later, without a word of
warning, work was resumed. We were more and more214 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

puzzled and had a further secret interview with our
friends.

‘Why and how did it happen ?” we asked.

‘‘Gapon, the priest, arranged it. You know Gapon?
Well, it was he.’’

Gapon was a rather suspicious character. Some people
said that he was a terrorist and others said that he was
an agent provocateur. It has since been proved that he
received considerable sums from the police department.
He was sometimes pursued by the authorities and disap-
peared ; at other times he would be going about the town
quite openly to everybody’s knowledge.

‘So the priest Gapon has turned up again ?” I asked.

‘Yes. People are signing on with him to take part in
the visit to the Czar.”’

‘ A visit to the Czar ?”’

‘Yes. The Czar has invited all the workmen to come
and see him. Some fair-minded men who are well disposed
to us have informed him that the authorities are oppress-
ing us and he wants to hear our own account of the
matter.”’

‘“My poor fellow, Gapon is deceiving you. You will
land yourselves in a mess. The Czar will never receive
you. The priest is leading you into a trap from which you
will find it difficult to get out.”

He looked at me superciliously.

‘“‘ Tt is obvious,” he said, ‘‘ that the rich do not like the
idea of the workers getting into touch with our father, the
Czar. The Czar has invited us and we shall go, whatever
you say.”

‘Tf that is your attitude, I won’t say any more. Go to
him, It’s your own business ; but if one of you happensIQ04-I9I4 215
to be a ruffan who has wormed his way in amongst you
angie"

“Oh, no, sir! Gapon is going to talk to them all first
and tell them that they’re not to carry any arms ; and he
is instructing everybody to wear their Sunday clothes.
When you call on the Czar you must look your best.”

Work had started again, not only with us, but in all the
factories ; this was very odd. At this period one works
or another was always on strike. Everybody in the town
knew that a demonstration by the workers had been
fixed for the 9th January.

The morning of the 9th I went to our factory ; but after
crossing the Neva I came back. A police officer told me
that I could continue on my way, but that in all prob-
ability nobody would be allowed to come back from Vasi-
lievsky Ostrov. Serious disorders were expected, and if
they occurred, as they obviously would, communications
would be cut.

An enormous crowd of workmen were in fact massed
on the quay ; but, as far as I could ascertain, they were
just holiday-making and seemed to be perfectly peaceful.
A large number of troops were on duty on the square of
the Winter Palace, where the Emperor was in residence.
It was only through the good offices of a colonel whom I
knew, who was guarding the quadrant leading to the
Morskaia with his regiment, that I was able to continue
on my way. He told me that the soldiers had been supplied
with ammunition.

“Why ?” I asked. “ Everything will go off perfectly
all right ; the Emperor will receive a deputation or show
himself to the people from the balcony.”’

“My dear fellow,” he replied, ‘‘ where have you been216 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM
all this time ? Don’t you know that His Majesty has left
St. Petersburg ?”

“Left St. Petersburg! When ?”’

‘“‘T’m not quite sure when he went away. Some people
said he went yesterday; others assure me that it was
several days ago.”’

I was struck by his saying that the Emperor had been
gone some days, for in that case I had been a witness of
his ignominious departure.

One evening, at about seven, I was with a dealer who
kept a shop in the Voznesenskaia, just opposite the big
store. It was just before closing time and the street was
full of people. Suddenly at racing speed a closed carriage
drove up, rushing along like a fire engine. I thought at
first that the horses had bolted ; but it was obvious that
the coachman was deliberately driving them at that
speed, although it was against the regulations. Then I
recognised the Emperor sitting right in the back of the
carriage ; and the crowd in the street had recognised
him too. Urchins were whistling and shouting “ Hallo,
Hallo! Stop him ! Stop thief !’”” The public were laughing,
whistling and cheering. ‘‘ The old boy has got the wind
up,” they were saying. And the carriage tore on at a
furious pace towards the station. An old soldier, who was
wearing the Cross of St. George was looking utterly dis-
mayed.

‘“What a disgrace! What a disgrace!’’ he cried.
‘ And it’s the Czar. I saw his grandfather ; he was really
the Lord’s Annointed !”’

The whole world has heard of the massacre of the gth
January. The workers were formed up in perfect order.
Singing psalms and the national anthem, “God save theIgo4-19T4
Czar,’’ they crossed the Neva and proceeded quietly
towards the Emperor’s residence. The priest Gapon,
wearing priest’s robes, marched at their head, carrying a
cross. After him were men carrying holy images and the
Emperor’s portrait. When they had reached the palace
the police ordered the procession to retire. The men
halted. The order was given to disperse.

The crowd did not move and continued to sing their
litanies.

The order was repeated three times and then . . . the
massacre began.

The number of victims was never known.

The Intelligentzia said they numbered tens of
thousands, the official authorities said they numbered
about ten. In his Memoirs, Witte says, “‘ There were more
than two hundred,” which is also rather a vague
figure.

Why were such violent measures taken ?

Two friends of mine who were generals on the Staff, and
who were both men of the same type and men of judgment,
had seen what happened from the same window, but their
answers were quite different.

The one said: “It was impossible not to open fire ;
otherwise they would certainly have come into conflict
with the troops. I am opposed to violent methods, but I
should have given the order to fire myself.”’

“It was quite unnecessary,” said the other. ‘“ During
the Odessa riots I gave the order to fire too; but now
nothing would induce me to do so.”

It is impossible after this kind of thing to retain any
faith in the views of eye-witnesses.

What I am certain about is that if His Majesty had

217

3218 PROM SER EDOM TO BOLsSHE VlroM

shewn himself to the people, nothing would have hap-
pened, except that the Czar might have gained prestige
But the wretched man never knew how to make use of
the opportunities that came his way.

This lamentable episode did much to ruin the last traces
of Imperial prestige, and the people said :

“We, the Czar’s children, used to tremble before our
father; now our father, the Czar, trembles before his
children and massacres them in terror.”’

Some days afterwards, as I was walking along the
quays, I met a group of sailors. They were staggering
along, half-drunk, arm-in-arm, and shouting for all they
were worth. A policeman was looking at them with a
benevolent smile.

I asked him what they were shouting.

““ Always the same things; the old catch ‘ Down with
the aristocracy.’ ”’

It was the first time I had heard this “‘ old catch,” as
he called it, at any rate in the streets. I had heard it in
drawing-rooms all right, only rather differently phrased.

In February we were completely defeated at Mukden.
It was an absolute catastrophe.

At last it was realised in high quarters that the Com-
mander-in-Chief was no use. Kuropatkin was dismissed
from his command and recalled. His place was taken by
General Linevitch, a man who had nothing to recommend
him except that he was old. He was a good fellow, but,
according to report, an absolute nonentity.

Kuropatkin as usual behaved like a lackey. He under-
stood his world; instead of coming home he bombardedI904-I9QI14 219
his Sovereign with obsequious telegrams and was ap-
pointed Commander of the Second Army in Manchuria.

My friend Doshturov rang me up to say that he had
just been put in command of the First Army. I went to
see him at once.

He told me that he had been commanded to an audience
with the Emperor, who had a long discussion with him
about Manchurian affairs and ended by saying: ‘‘ Whata
pity, General, that you weren’t there.”

“ Sire, at the beginning of the war I begged Your
Majesty to give me any command there, even if it were
only a brigade.”

“ A brigade! Surely you realise that that was impos-
sible. You were Commander-in-Chief of the Volunteer
Army in Servia after Tcherniaiev ; you were my father’s
Quartermaster-General for the war in the East, and then
you commanded an army corps ; you have been chief of a
military district and you are a full General and a member
of the Army Council.”’

Then, after a short silence, he said:

‘““ What are we to do now ?”

‘Continue the struggle, Sire. If we are to make an
honourable peace we must first gain at least one
victory.”

“You mean, we must win the war ?”

“No, Sire. I said we must win at least one victory.”

“One victory! That’s not enough. We must finish
Japan and destroy her.”

The Emperor dismissed him.

An hour later he received his appointment without in
the least expecting it.

He said to me:220 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

“T always hoped to die on the field of battle. I shall
fulfil my vow.” 3

My poor friend! A few days later he died of an attack
of apoplexy.

My son, who was more or less recovered, set off again for
the theatre of war.

In early May we heard that the fleet, which had been
entrusted to Admiral Rojestvensky, had reached its
destination in safety, a fact which the authorities at the
Admiralty considered to be nothing short of a miracle,
since the fleet consisted of old sardine-boxes which were
absolutely useless and which an unscrupulous fellow, a
certain skipper called Klado, had passed off on the Czar
as battleships. And there were actually rejoicings !

“That settles it,” they were saying. ‘‘ Japan is done
for now.”

Alas! It was our fleet that was going to be done for.
On the 14th-15th May it was annihilated.

Such a complete disaster had never happened before.

But the war went on. We must do for Japan and
“annihilate ’’ her.

In Russia itself the revolutionaries were carrying on
with their plans and the Government were remaining
inactive. It is true that, after the Gapon incident, General
Trepov had been given powers equivalent to those of a
dictator, but that did not affect things in the least.

Dozens of Government agents were assassinated daily
in Russia, in the Caucasus, the Baltic Provinces and
especially in Warsaw. The Grand Duke Sergius, Governor-
General of Moscow, Ploehve, Minister of the Interior, and
several others whom I have forgotten had been murdered.
And now, not only those who had always been opposed toIg04-I1914 Z21
the authorities, but men of the most level judgment, men
who had no politics and the most devoted subjects of their
Sovereign, everybody, indeed, except the ruling clique had
become hostile to the Government and were saying:
‘Tt can’t goon like this. Things must change.”

But the authorities always said: ‘“‘ The autocracy
must be saved.”’

At Moscow, men who were known and respected by
everybody, even by His Majesty himself, almost openly
worked at a draft constitution.

There was great wrath in high quarters, but these
people were so well-known and so respected that it was
impossible to take action against them.

In June a deputation from the towns and from the
‘Zemstvo,”” with Prince Sergius Trubetzskoi as their
leader, waited upon the Emperor and gave him to under-
stand that a change in the method of government had
become imperative. The marshals of the nobility in the
two capitals and twenty-six other provinces took similar
action.

The Emperor only gave an evasive reply. But as
Count Witte definitely states in his Memoirs! a few weeks
later the Emperor at last understood that the state of
affairs was such that extreme measures must be taken
without delay in order to prevent a final collapse. Just like
his subjects, he too was now saying: “ Things cannot go
on like this ; there must be a change.”’

And then nothing was done.

Everything went on as before, and the Czar and his men
remained inert and—what was worse—were definitely

tVol, I, page 351, Russian text.222 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

hostile to everything that had to do with “them” and
net with “ us.”

On 6th August a new manifesto appeared. It con-
tained more vague promises, but nothing tangible.

In the autumn life became very gloomy.

The news from friends and relations in the country was
bad; one had been robbed bythe peasants, another
followed by the police, others had had their houses burnt
and their cattle slaughtered.

In Manchuria everything was going from bad to worse.
Industry was in difficulties. There were strikes every-
where and incendiarism was general. We felt very de-
pressed.

There were crowds of workmen about the capital who
had not got any work or did not want to be given work.
They invaded the side-walks and pavements and pre-
vented the carriages from passing.

From morning till evening one heard the mournful
notes of the ‘‘ Internationale”’ and the “ Marseillaise ”’
sung by people who did not understand them.

In the evening shop windows were boarded up ; there
was a funereal note about the hammer strokes. Now it
was the water supply that was cut off, now the electricity ;
it was impossible to get candles or petrol ; they were in
such demand that the supplies were exhausted. Nerves
were on edge. Popular outbreaks were feared, though the
fears were groundless at this stage, because, for the time
being, nobody excepting the police molested individuals.
There was no ill-feeling against anybody except the
Government. But the public, having lost confidence,
did not realise this, and trembled.

Everybody who could went abroad, The Czar had takenI904-I1914 223
refuge at Peterhof, though in the ordinary way he never
went there at that time of year. The Grand Dukes no
longer drove in carriages with the Imperial arms but in
humble hackney coaches. The Dowager Empress alone,
calm and smiling as usual, would drive in her open car-
tiage, known by the whole town, with her footman, a
Cossack in gold braid uniform, conspicuous on the box.
She did not fear, indeed she thought it her duty, to appear
everywhere amongst the crowd of malcontents. Nobody
ever failed to show her due respect. And more than once
I heard a passer-by say :

“She is a true Empress. She has courage.”’

The Revolutionary Committee was in permanent
session. The police knew this, but did not dare to take
action. Pamphlets were circulated by the million in the
streets and nobody dared to interfere.

The infantry, who were ready for marching orders, were
confined to barracks. The cavalry regiments had for some
weeks been bivouacking first in one place, where the
trouble was bound to start, according to the authorities,
and then in another ; they were ready for all eventualities.

The mysterious name “‘ Nossar ’’ was whispered about.
He was supposed to be all-powerful and to be giving the
word of command.

Then on the 8th October the railway from Moscow
stopped running and on the 12th not a single train ran in
the whole of Russia. Work ceased in the telegraphs, tele-
phone and post office, in factories, banks and offices ;
schools were deserted, shops large and small were closed,
the tramways weren't running and the electricity was cut
off.

On the 15th October life at St. Petersburg too was224 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

brought to a standstill. The whole of Russia, a hundred
and fifty million people, was on strike.
It was a terrifying spectacle, but magnificent !
On the evening of the 16th, a motor-car pushing
through the streets of the capital at top speed. A man was
standing up in it and waving his hands, shouting: “ The
constitution has been granted !”
I saw a police officer take off his helmet and make the
sign of the cross.
‘Surely that doesn’t please you ?” I asked him.
‘‘T should think it does !’”’ he exclaimed. ‘‘ At last we'll
be able to get a quiet night’s sleep. I haven’t had one for
months.”’
On the 17th the great news appeared in the official
Gazette.
The town was decked with flags, the streets were gayer
than usual, and life had started again. The special con-
stable had disappeared.
An enormous crowd was standing at the approach to
the town hall and there was unfolded a curious scene which
a short time before would have been impossible in Russia,
where everything was severely controlled by the police.
The first landing of the great staircase outside the
Hotel de Ville had been converted into a platform, which
was decorated with flags. Speakers got up and harangued
the people from it ; it wasn’t very easy to hear what they
said, but the words “ liberty,”’ “ rights,” “ citizen ’’ con-
stantly recurred, and they were always shouted in a
specially loud voice. The crowd, who were obviously un-
moved, remained indifferent. It seemed as if there were
no reason why they should be there.

‘What curious people you are!” a French friend of

deeI904-I914 225
mind said to me. ‘‘In my country if you go into the
street you know at once which way the wind is blowing ;
whilst you are always the same, whatever happens,
whether it be good or bad. Is that because you are in-
different or because you conceal your feelings ?”

‘“Tt’s perfectly natural. We have not been able to
give free expression to our thoughts for centuries. We are
trained to be silent.”

Suddenly, when a new man got on to the platform, the
crowd, who had hitherto been so indifferent, grew lively.
There were shouts of “ Hear! Hear!” and applause.

Without even opening his mouth the man had estab-
lished contact with the crowd; he had made their souls
vibrate and had managed to fascinate them.

He was a drunkard and could hardly stand straight. He
wanted to speak, but only inarticulate noises and hic-
coughs proceeded from his mouth. The crowd roared with
laughter.

‘Disgusting ! On a great day like this,” said the
Frenchman. “In France the dirty brute would have got
a thick ear.”

After a few vain attempts, the tribune of the people
made a gesture of desperation, as much as to say, “‘ Leave
me in peace,” and then, stumbling, to the accompaniment
of hurrahs and cat-calls from the audience, he left the
platform. Then a thin and shrill-voiced urchin of about
fifteen years old, who was wearing a schoolboy’s shirt,
took his place and declaimed like a hoarse young cock
crowing : “ Citizens, at last we are free men.”

The crowd laughed.

“ A fine specimen of a free man: Hurrah.”

“ He’s a funny lad.”

P226 FROM SERFDOM TO EGLSHEVISM

“ Your father’ll spank you. Get down, impudence !”

And they laughed more than ever.

Other speakers waited their turn, but we had had
enough. We went on our way.

A procession was coming out of the “ Gostinny Dvor,”
the big bazaar of the Perspective. They started a hymn ;
the national flag was being born before them and men
wearing white scarves were carrying the Czar’s portrait.

Another procession, singing the horrible “ Interna-
tionale,”’ and preceded by the red flag, came out of the
street opposite.

The two processions came into collision. Fierce blows
were exchanged. The public remained unmoved.

“Tt’s incredible,” said my friend.

‘““Why ? That happens with you too.”’

“Yes, of course it does, but the crowd takes one side
or the other.”

At the corner of the Liteinaia a free fight was in pro-
gress. The window panes of the large fruit shop belonging
to Soloviev were smashed and the “ free ’’ men proceeded
to plunder the shop window.

At the Liteinaia, opposite the Yusupoff Palace, there
was fighting too; but, as we gathered from a lady who
had been present when the trouble began, politics had
nothing to do with it. It had not been started by “ citi-
zens,” but by some drunks.

‘It’s disgusting,”’ said the lady, “ that the police should
let them fight like that.”’

‘‘ The police !’’ said an indignant passer-by. “I should
have liked to have seen them try to interfere. There are
no police now. We are free men now, we have the constitu-1904-1914 227
tion and the right to do as we please. This, for instance,’
and he proceeded to shout obscene oaths.

Poor liberty ! That’s what many people understood by
it. With the majority, ‘liberty’ is synonymous with
license.

In the capital the new era opened badly.

In the provinces it started off better. The massacres
there were on a larger scale. It is stated, and there is no
reason to doubt it, that the agents provocateurs were not
idle.

There were naval mutinies at Nicolaevsk, Sevastopol
and at Kronstadt. At Moscow and Omsk hundreds of men
killed each other. Everywhere else more or less the same
kind of thing was happening. ‘‘ Black Leagues ’’ who were
extreme conservatives, maintained by Government secret
funds, considered that the liberties which had been
granted were useless. The Intelligentzia declared that it
was essential to continue the struggle, since the rights
granted to the citizens were not sufficiently “ demo-
cratic.”’

All these remarks were mere pretexts. The Government,
seized with panic, had allowed its hand to be forced and
was now trying to recover itself, while the Intelligentzia
for whom the Revolution was not a means but an end in
itself and an ideal, was loth to be parted from its idol.

Witté, who had been appointed Prime Minister, hedged
between the parties and played a double game.

With a little firmness it would have been quite easy
to have induced both the “ Black Leagues’’ and the
committees of which Nossar was dictator, to see reason
and to have put them on to right lines. The army was
sound and the demobilised troops from Manchuria had228 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

not yet returned. But they ought to have begun at once.
Witté failed to do so, and it was only on the 26th
November, six weeks later, when he heard that Nossar
was going to have him arrested, that he put a stop to him
and his committees. The order to imprison Nossar and
his associates was issued and carried out ; but the poison
had got into the blood of the people; they had realised
that the country was frightened of them.

The moujik, or peasant, that is three-quarters of the
Russian nation, was entirely indifferent to political ques-
tions. As long as he had his land and the police did not
interfere with him, anything else was “‘ not his business.”’
Let the gentry, the “‘ gospoda,”’ squabble amongst them-
selves ; it had nothing to do with them. But the peasants
had learned that the Government did not count ; that the
Czar was an ikon who must be worshipped like any other
ikon, that this ikon was not be to feared and that the
power was now with them, the moujiks. The dregs of the
population had also realised this and generally took
advantage of it to do as they pleased.

In the Baltic provinces the agrarian troubles had been
degenerating for some months past into peasant risings.
Hundreds of landowners had their throats cut; more
than four hundred mansions were burnt and the proper-
ties plundered. The Government let things take their
course. Fortunately the mansion of one who was very
popular at Court was burnt. The owner raised the alarm
without consulting the Prime Minister, who was still
trying to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds,
the War Office sent General Orloff to the scene with two
regiments of Guards, and in two months complete order
was restored.1904-1914 229

In Russia proper, burning and plundering was pretty
general too, but the landowner was rarely assassinated,
in fact only when he made it unavoidable. Everything
went off smoothly and without ill-feeling, as a rule, in
quite a friendly way as is right between neighbours who
like and respect one another, and it was very rare indeed
for a peasant to rob or fire his “ own landlord’s ” pro-
perty.

“ Good heavens, no! He was far too attached to him
to do anything of the kind. Fathers and sons, they had
always lived together.”

The peasants did not rob their own landlord, but his
neighbour. And the neighbour’s peasantry robbed the
landlord who had been spared by his own tenants. Nobody
was the loser ; the moujiks had simply divided up their
spheres of interest just like the Great Powers.

Things were generally managed quite pleasantly and
in the following manner: Peasants, a whole village of
them, would arrive in carts, bringing their wives and
children to help with the work. Their ambassador, the
most respected man of the community, a venerable old
gentleman with a white beard, would go to the lord’s
house and, holding his hat in both hands as a mark of
respect, would humbly ask for an interview. Then he
would sigh and say :

“We're here now, batiushka! We must get away as
quickly as possible. That will be much better. The
‘rebiata ’! might give you a bad time. They might really.
Ah, yes! To the young men of to-day nothing is sacred.
They’re absolute criminals. And whatever you do, don’t
forget to give us the keys to the barns. It would be a

tRebiata—young roughs.230 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

great pity to have to spoil those fine new doors. We have
already told your coachman to harness the horses and to
take you to the station or to the town, whichever you
prefer. Only see that you are well covered, the cold is
fearful, and I shouldn’t advise you to go by the open
fields ; that road is very bad. And you'd better avoid the
bridge, it’s rotten and you might have an accident.’’

When the carriage was brought out the landlord was
helped in, with his luggage, and his feet were covered with
a travelling rug. ‘‘ Good-bye. The Lord keep you in good
health, batiushka. We love you like a father. Oh, dear,
we don’t want to leave you.”

‘One can always come to an understanding if one is
well disposed.”’

But sometimes the poor moujiks weren’t well treated,
through the base ingratitude of those to whom they had
been so kind.

The young Princess B——- who almost always lived in
the country, and devoted a portion of her income to
philanthropic work, happened to be in St. Petersburg
when a riot broke out in the province where her estate was.
She returned to it at once and summoned the moujiks.

‘My friends,” she said, “ I must come to an under-
standing with you. Will you accept my word ?”

“ Accept your word, matushka ?! Could we believe in
anything if we didn’t believe in what you say ° Your word!
Why, you're talking nonsense! As though it would be
possible for us not to trust it. It’s like the Gospel to us.”

“Thank you. When do you intend to come and raid
me ?”’

‘Raid you, you! What a dreadful idea! You, our

tGenerally translated ‘‘ little mother.’’I905-I1914
dear treasure! Raid you! Only a man who was damned
by God could think of such a thing. Raid you, our angel,
our white pigeon! If anyone should dare to touch the tip

231

+?

of your finger. . .

‘“That’s enough. Listen to me and remember carefully
what I’m going to say to you. If anyone—you or anybody
else, it doesn’t matter—touches anything here whatever
or sets fire even to a haycock, your whole village will be
reduced to ashes. Down to the last hut. I give you my
word and swear to God that it shall be done. Though I
lose my name, my honour, my fortune, though I go to the
galleys for it, it shall be done. Look! I swear to it and I
kiss the image of the Holy Virgin and I take God to witness.
Good-bye, my friends; I have nothing more to say to
you. Wait! One word more. As I realise that you might
start by assassinating me, I made my brother, whom you
know, swear to keep the promise which I have just made,
Now I have warned you. Good-bye.”

Almost all the neighbouring estates were pillaged ;
on that of the Princess nothing was touched. The little
woman knew the people she was dealing with.

They didn’t go in for fires in the towns, especially in
St. Petersburg. The houses were built, not of wood, but
of stone, and the Russian firemen are excellent. Besides,
it was not the modern method, it was not up-to-date.
They did not rob in the towns either, they ‘‘ expropriated.”
The newspapers had made the word fashionable and the
Intelligentzia were at pains to explain to the ignorant the
difference between armed robbery and expropriation.
“ Robbery ” was a crime, provided for by the penal code,
whereas “‘ expropriation ” was a political act, a right,
granted by nature to the poor man to protect himselflo

232 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

against the abuses of the strong. Suddenly, all the robbers
and burglars gave up their profession and disappeared
completely. It is true that occasionally a young scamp
who had appropriated a trifle was caught and at once con-
fessed himself guilty of theft. But serious burglars no
longer did this, and the judges nearly died of boredom.
It was expected that they would soon not be needed any
more. It should be explained that expropriators, when
accused of political offences, are not handed over to the
magistrate or to the assizes, but are dealt with by an
ad hoc tribunal.

For instance, a motor-car full of bullion chests for the
State bank, is driving along in broad daylight. A bomb
is thrown; and the car is stopped, the employees of the
bank are done in and the gold is transferred to another
car, which goes off at top speed. That is not highway
robbery, but a political crime—an “ expropriation.”

A few men enter a bank or a large shop, draw their
revolvers, shout ‘‘ Hands up,” and get away after empty-
ing the till and robbing all the employees—expropriation,
a political misdemeanour. I could quote examples for a
whole day. It was always the same story. But I must
mention one of these political misdemeanours. The story
fully justifies it.

More than four hundred students, fine healthy young
fellows, were holding a “ meeting.’”’ This word had be-
come fashionable; they were attending a meeting, an
amusement as popular at that time as political murders,
riots and expropriations. A few men came in and shouted
“ Hands up !” and the four hundred young fellows raised
their eight hundred strong arms like one man and quietly
surrendered their watches and purses. Next day, if any-TQ04-I1914 233
body asked them how they had been robbed, they were
indignant. “‘We robbed? Nothing of the kind! We
wouldn’t give in to robbers. We were expropriated by
Socialists.”

They were quite proud of having had to do with such
respectable people.

Riots, murders of Government officials and expro-
priations went on in spite of the Constitution drafted in
October, while the “ cadets”’ in the Duma, who prided
themselves on being a moderate party, ‘‘ His Majesty’s
Opposition,’ refused to express any disapproval of these
political misdemeanours.

It was fortunate that Stolypin, who was Prime Minister
at the time, was less advanced and more courageous and
paid no attention to their harangues.

He had hundreds of murderers and expropriators court-
martialled—and hanged—and the so-called political mis-
demeanours ceased, but Stolypin had to pay for his good
work and was assassinated. Not by one of his political
enemies but by a secret agent of the police.

As a matter of fact, if revolution means a change in the
Government régime brought about by force, and not
simply disturbances or riots without any real result, the
Revolution had come to an end on the 17th October,
1905. The disturbances and the riots, sometimes on an
enormous scale, as at Moscow, in the South and in Siberia,
which took place since, were only a ground swell, the
inevitable result of a storm.

The date for the elections to the Lower House of the
Duma had been fixed and, excepting the moujik, all234 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

Russia, which had hitherto been so silent, waxed rheto-
rical. Words devoid of all meaning were poured out in
streams. In a single day one would hear more platitudes
than in the whole of one’s previous lifetime. Rhetoric and
words for the sake of words had become a craving. For
centuries silence had been compulsory ; there were a lot
of arrears to be made up. Young and old, children and
nurses, “ meetinged,’’ buttonholed the passer-by to teach
him their political principles, roused you suddenly in the
middle of the night to convert you to their side, or rather
to discharge the overflow, not of their souls, but of their
tongues.

It was terrifying, but sometimes amusing. Two bright,
chubby little schoolboys were walking in front of me one
day.

“ What’s wrong with you, Pete >”? one of them said
“ Have you got a sore throat ?”

‘No. I had to make a long speech at the meeting
yesterday. I couldn't get out of it. It’s made me quite
hoarse.”

Poor little Pete! He was exhausted ; he would much
rather have played or gone to bed, but he had “‘ had to”
speak. Without him, the ‘free men’? would not have
known what to do and the country would have been
ruined. It was fortunate that Peter was there to protect
his country’s interests.

I got numerous letters from Rostov, a town where I had
lived for about twenty years. I had been a municipal
councillor, an honorary justice of the peace, president
of the finance committee and president of the board for
examining recruits. I was very well-known there, they
had seen me at work and, putting aside false modesty, ITg04-1914 235
may say that I was appreciated and popular. They now
invited me to come down as their candidate for the Duma,
and being a simpleton like Pete, I thought it my duty to
do so. . . I dreamed of serving my country as I had done
in my youth.

I went to Rostov. Instead of the town, almost all the
inhabitants of which I knew, I found an enormous lunatic
asylum.

Men of the most sober judgment had lost their heads.
Some had become incendiaries, others wanted to get back,
if not to the times before the flood, at any rate to the reign
of Ivan the Terrible. They thought me impossible. My
politics were too ‘left ’’ for the one lot and too “ right ”
for the other. In short, I was ignominiously turned
down; bearded Petes obtained a crushing majority.

I won’t conceal the fact that though it was what I
expected, I was disappointed.

Now I am not sorry that it should have been so. |
should have been sad to have been amongst those whose
ineptitude contributed to the final disaster.

The Duma opened. On the first day of the session the
Emperor received the deputies at the Winter Palace,
where all the high dignitaries of the Empire were assem-
bled. Not being one of them myself, I was not present at
the reception, so I can only repeat what I have heard from
those who were.

It seems to have been a curious scene. On one side were
the Ministers and Government officials, festooned with
ribbons and decorations and covered with gold lace. On
the other side were the newly elected ; a menagerie such
as had never yet been seen in those high quarters.236 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

The two groups eyed each other suspiciously. The old
inmates of the Palace seemed to be afraid that the intru-
ders might leap at their throats and devour them. The
newcomers affected a profound contempt for them and
for all the splendours of the Court which they saw for the
first time, but in spite of their assumption of supercilious
indifference they conveyed the impression of being ner-
vous.

The Czar handled the situation very well. He said that
he was “‘ happy to see the elected of the nation, the best
men that Russia could produce, and that he was confident
that they would all march together harmoniously towards
the same goal, their country’s happiness.’’ He smiled
benevolently.

As I have already said, at a first meeting he was
charming, but, although it had never happened before,
on this occasion his charm was wasted. It did not come
off, and they went away suspicious and dissatisfied.

I did, as a matter of fact, see ‘‘the elected of the
nation’ on their way from the Palace to the Duma. As
they passed the ‘‘ Cross,” that is the centre gaol, where
those found guilty of offences against the common law
were imprisoned, but no political prisoners, they waved
their handkerchiefs and their hats and shouted wildly at
the prisoners, who were staring through the bars. The
prisoners answered them like brothers and colleagues.

When they got to the Duma they forthwith demanded a
general and complete amnesty for all prisoners.

I am ready to believe that the Petes who arrived from
every quarter, from the North Pole, from Central Asia,
from Poland, from Lithuania and from a hundred other
places, were really the best that Russia could provide ;TgO04-1914 237
but to look at these men with their bewildered expressions,
one would hardly have thought so. It was more like an
anthropological museum than a parliament.

There were Poles with long moustaches, wearing
“kuntushes’’ and ‘ chapskas,” picturesque Cossacks
carrying daggers ; there were even Turks and Sarmatians,
wearing large turbans and Oriental robes; there were
occasional lawyers and doctrinaires who were more or less
well known ; there were men from the depths of Siberia,
Tartars and Letts, whole squadrons of sickly priests, fat
and oily, their hair floating in the breeze or hanging in
pigtails like little girls’ ; eccentric priests, either survivals
from the Middle Ages or ultra-modern decadents, very
different from the town priests. Then there were moujiks,
moujiks and still more moujiks, some of them looking un-
comfortable in town clothes which were either too loose
or too tight, too long or too short; others were still
wearing their caftans and tall boots. Most of them were
not true moujiks—I mean the honest moujik who culti-
vates his land, loves his cattle, devotes himself to his
home and has a say in the affairs of his commune—but
sham moujiks, schoolmasters, public scribes, village shop-
keepers andsurveyors, a medley of that semi-Intelligentzia
who, having somehow or other managed to learn to read,
use their knowledge only for the purpose of swallowing a
mass of Socialist pamphlets and poisoning their minds
with the rubbish.

Having been treated as inferiors, almost as pariahs,
all their lives, and suddenly finding themselves great
personages and “‘ legislators,” these poor déclassé wretches
had lost their moral balance, and such was the force of
circumstances that they either would not or could not see238 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

things as they really were, but saw them through a prism
darkened by their former sufferings and by the hatred and
envy with which their minds were warped.

Never having been out of their burrows before, they
were bewildered by the noise and magnificence of the
capital ; intoxicated by everything they saw and by the
reception they were given, they thought themselves all-
powerful, and burned with the urge to avenge the suffer-
ings of the past and the desire to change the whole face of
things at a stroke. The new Duma could not help being,
as it in fact became, ‘‘ the Duma of the Wrath of the
People,’ a name given to it, not by its enemies, but by its
apologists.

The Government, like the Duma, was unequal to the
task before it. It had learned nothing and forgotten
nothing, and, moreover, was dishonest. Mad with fear,
it had promised everything in a moment of panic, but it
was firmly determined not to keep any of its promises,
and was not even clever enough to hide its intentions.
Such was its overcoming self-confidence, that it believed
that ‘‘ those savages ’’ had not the sense to see through
its treachery, even after the words uttered by the Emperor
shortly afterwards to a deputation of the extreme right :

‘Nothing is changed, everything shall remain as it
was. Autocrat I am and Autocrat I shall remain.”’

Instead of being a sanctuary where the future well-
being of the country could be developed and the needs
of the people could be considered, the Duma degenerated
into an arena in which the elected representatives of the
nation delivered high-sounding discourses for the benefit
of the gallery, abused one another, tried to discredit those
in power and to sow dissension.1904-1918 239

It soon lost prestige. The Duma still counted in St.
Petersburg, Moscow and a few other centres ; but in the
country outside it did not count at all. It was just an
ornament for the capital, something to throw dust in the
eyes of Europe.

In fact, everything, or almost everything, in the
country, to use the Emperor’s words, ‘‘ remained
as it was.”’

The landlords regained possession of their ruined
estates, the workmen returned to their factories, the
provinces relapsed into apathy, and the Government into
insolent inertia. The Intelligentzia went back to its books
and to the intoxication of extreme theories, impossible
to apply in a country which was not yet ripe to carry
them into practice.

And the tottering autocracy, whose foundations had
been undermined so that it was ready to crash, although
it still presented a bold front to the world, continued to
be the Bastille of the spirit and genius of the nation. Poor
Russia !

Seven long, monotonous, anxious years followed. We
knew we were sitting on a volcano, but we tried to forget
it and to live as far as possible from day to day without
thinking of the morrow. The Government fell more and
more into contempt ; the people forgot their ancient gods,
and had not yet created new ones. The Czar was no longer
mentioned, for people almost forgot that there was one.
He lived modestly at Csarskoye-Selo, only seeing those
whom he absolutely had to see ; he avoided direct contact
with men and affairs, shunned new faces, and absolutely
refused to recognise that we were heading for disaster.240 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

The reports which reached him were sometimes disas-
trous. But, as a rule, the reports were returned to the
sender with a marginal note by the Czar, which was
laughed at and soon became famous: ‘“ uteshitelno,”
“that’s very consoling.’”’ Naturally people more and
more avoided telling him the sad truth, tried to present
things in a rosy hue, and only to let him see what ap-
peared to be “consoling.”” For, barefaced lying apart,
there was nothing truly consoling to say.

And then one day people began talking again about the
Czar and what was happening within the Imperial
Palace. A fugitive from justice, who was a horsedealer
and had been found guilty of seducing minors, a moujik,
who hardly knew how to read, was laying down the law
there. He was no mere passing fancy, like Philippe and
the others. His power increased daily ; he would soon be
all-powerful ; the Master.

Alas! It was only too true.

But what was at first whispered and later shouted from
the house-tops was generally speaking a baseless slander.
The Empress was and always remained an honest woman,
devoted to her husband and her children. But the hys-
teria to which she had been subject for a long time had
turned into mental insanity. The desire to bear a son had
been an obsession with her, an obsession which Philippe
had contrived to exploit in order to get close to the
throne. Then, when it became obvious that all his asser-
tions were idle inventions, his credit fell.

She had since borne the son whom she had so much
wanted ; in fact he had been granted to her miraculously,
thanks to the prayers of the saint who had been canonized
at Sarov. But alas! her son suffered from a complaint1904-1914 241
she knew only too well, for it was hereditary in her
family, and unless another miracle intervened he was
doomed to die. Who was the saint who should save
him ?

Rasputin contrived to persuade her that the saint was
none other than himself, the fugitive from justice, and
that he, the man chosen of God, would save not only her
son but her husband, herself, the whole Imperial family,
and therefore the Empire. For the well-being of the
Empire depended upon, was in fact but the natural conse-
quence of, the well-being of the Czar.

When an ordinary citizen shows signs of insanity he is
put into the hands of a mental specialist, and, if it is
necessary for his health, shut up, but the wife of an
autocrat and a demi-god cannot go mad; that would be
contrary to nature.

If, in defiance of laws human and divine, it should hap-
pen, the fact must be concealed. The doctors dare not
admit it, the Court dare not see it, the general public
must not understand it, and the husband, at any rate
in the case of Nicholas II, must obey the sick woman‘s
orders, though it cost him his dignity and his Empire.

The private letters of the Empress have been published.
I quote a few passages :

“Our friend (Rasputin) says that we must appoint
so-and-so as a Minister. Do this, for he loves the holy
man.—Dismiss so-and-so; he refuses to carry out the
wishes of our friend who is watching over us.—He says
that the troops must be ordered to advance in this or
that direction. Don’t listen to what the General Staff
says, but do as ‘he’ says.—Touch the wand which our
friend has held more often, it brings good luck.—Before
Q242 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

going to the Council of Ministers comb your hair with the
holy man’s comb.”’ I am quoting from memory, but you
will find all this in effect, even if the words are not quite
accurate. And the Czar did as he was told.

Rasputin’s creatures recommended by the Empress
were nearly always contemptible scoundrels, despised by
honest people and not only by them but by the whole
country ; so that it was no longer only the people but the
immediate entourage of the sovereign, in fact, the whole
of Russia, that was saying: ‘‘ Things can’t go on like this
any longer,” only ‘‘ they ”’ had different views as to what
should be done.

The Terrorists said: ‘‘ We must destroy everything ” ;
the leaders of the Duma: ‘“‘ You must let us form a
ministry,’ while the greater part of the country merely
sighed and said nothing.

The faithful adherents of absolutism alone were quite
certain what had to be done. In order to preserve the
principle (we may deduce that the principle was their
personal interests), what was wanted was a Palace revo-
lution. The Emperor must be dethroned and his heir
proclaimed in his place. This was absolutely essential.

That would have been a possible course of action and
it would certainly have been preferable—especially
during the war—to a revolution. The difficulty was that
those who said so were all waiting for somebody else to
act. Nobody thought of risking his own skin.

One of the principal dignitaries of the Empire once
spoke to me about the “ adjustment ”’ in question.

‘“You have access to the Emperor,’’ I replied. “‘ Your
son is his aide-de-camp, nearly all the people about him
are relations or friends of yours; you could do it more1g04-1914 24
easily than anybody else. If that is your opinion, why
don’t you act ?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Me? Are you mad? Supposing it didn’t come off.
I’ve got a family ; dash it all!”

And in spite of everybody saying: “‘ Things can’t go
on like that,” they went on; not “ like that,” it is true,
but from bad to worse; and there was no need to be a
soothsayer to see that soon things would not go on at all.

Ww

It is amusing to try and solve a riddle when one thinks
one is on the right track. I have often been asked: ‘“‘ How
do you explain the fact that Rasputin, an illiterate moujik
of evil reputation and a coarse, vulgar scoundrel, should
have succeeded in imposing upon a civilized and sensitive
woman, the daughter of an English Princess and an
Empress ?’’ My answer is: ‘“‘ Just on account of the
qualities mentioned.”’ During the whole of her life Her
Majesty had seen nothing but correct and elegant, well-
bred gentlemen, who smiled pleasantly and rounded off
their phrases. She was accustomed to that, and a man
belonging to the world she knew was necessarily more or
less like all the others. Besides, has God ever chosen his
elect from amongst courtiers and officers wearing spurs
and swords ? Never. It was inconceivable. The saints of
every age had been, not monocled gentlemen, but simple,
straightforward men who said right out what God bade
them say, without seeking to embroider their words as
simple mortals did, without trying to please or to be agree-
able. Nobody had ever spoken to his Sovereign in the
way that Rasputin did; certainly no ordinary mortal244 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

would have dared. He was therefore a being apart, the
elect of heaven, and he must be believed.

What one is accustomed to see seems banal in the end.
Only the unusual impresses the imagination, especially
of a woman.

Once he had produced his first and decisive impression,
the saint had managed to make allies of everybody who
could, in one way or another, assist him to attain his
ends.

You may wonder how he managed it. He simply applied
the time-honoured principle of intimidating one set and
giving the other an interest in his success. The principle
always works.

Intelligence comes in useful too, especially if it is applied
without too much scruple as to method. The rogue was
certainly intelligent and he stuck at nothing.CHAPTER VIII

1914-1918

When Austria’s ultimatum to Servia was published I
was at Vichy, in bed with a violent attack of gout.

Durnovo, former Minister of the Interior, was taking
the waters there too. He telegraphed to Sazonov for news
as to the position. The answer was reassuring: ‘‘ There
is no danger. Go on with your cure.”

But the next day, when I sent to the bank for money,
they would not give me any. Payment on letters of credit
was suspended. On the same day our mobilisation was
announced and I left for Paris.

On our arrival there we heard the news that war had
been declared. There was not a porter, a cab or a taxi at
the station ; it was pouring with rain; and my foot was
so swollen that I had not been able to put on my boot and
was only wearing a stocking. Luckily I was not alone.
My friend, General Bibikov, and his family were with me,
and somehow or other they managed to get me to the
hotel.

I had also been in Paris when war was declared in 1870.
The difference was remarkable. The feeling then was one
of the most frenzied excitement. On this occasion the
attitude was admirable. The war was regarded as a
disaster, but it was a disaster that everybody was re-
solved to meet calmly, in a spirit worthy of a great nation,

245246 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM
and everybody was quite sincerely preoccupied with one
idea only—to do their duty to their country.

We asked anxiously what was happening in Russia.
The last letters from St. Petersburg were scarcely reassur-
ing. For some time strikes had been a regular occurrence
and disorders had occurred lately in both capitals.

In spite of our wish to get home as quickly as possible,
we had to remain in Paris for more than a fortnight

There were no trains to Marseilles nor to the Channel
ports, and, besides, we had no money. It was some days
before the banks resumed payment.

I wonder whether the Parisians, who were certainly
kept busier than we were, for we could do nothing but
stand by patiently and look on, realised how completely
Paris was changing from one day to another. For some
time after the declaration of war, it was like a simple
provincial town. The rue de la Paix was almost deserted,
and in the morning staid citizens wearing skull caps and
slippers took their coffee and read their newspapers in the
doorways. All men in the prime of life had disappeared ;
there were only old men and children ; every man who was
fit was under arms.

I was particularly amused by a group of loafers who
hung about certain stations from morning till evening.
At first I thought that they were just travellers, waiting
for tickets; but to my great astonishment I discovered
that they were expecting nothing more nor less than the
arrival of the Cossacks. Where they were to come from,
and how, nobody knew, but everybody was certain that
they might turn up at any moment.

An old dame told me that a regiment of them had al-
ready arrived. She had seen them with her own eyes.LQI4-I19IS BAT

It is curious how prevalent was the myth oi the Cos-
sacks, not only in France but in England too. People
used to talk to me about it in London, Newcastle and
Edinburgh.

In Edinburgh, an officer—I believe he was a major—in
spite of my assertions that it was impossible, assured me
that a squadron had disembarked that very morning. He
had seen them “ with his own eyes.”

“ What did they look like ?”

~ They have long, gaily-coloured coats and big fur caps.
But they carry bows and arrows instead of rifles, just like
the Zulus.”

‘“ They won’t get far with those arms.”

‘We shall equip them. They are said to be very brave
and good horsemen. That’s the chief thing.”

“What are their horses like ?”’

‘ Rather like Scottish ponies, only bonier.”’

He had seen all this—probably in the illustrated papers
of 1815. At first I thought he was trying to pull my leg,
but no, he was perfectly serious.

When our troops invaded Prussia the Russians became
the heroes of the day. One was constantly being asked :

“ When do you think they’ll be in Berlin ?”

~ Berlin is still a long way off.”’

“ Oh, I know, but approximately ? Three, four, five
days, a week ?”’

At last we got our tickets for Cherbourg. Just as we
were leaving I saw a telegram in my paper mentioning the
battle of Kauschen. A brilliant cavalry charge was men-
tioned. The third squadron of Horse Guards had captured
a Prussian battery. The paper added: “ The pick of the
regiment fell on the field.”248 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

My son was in command of the regiment. So you may
imagine my joy and my anxiety.

When we got to London we found the papers full of
the affair. There were no details to be had at the Russian
Embassy, except that the Ambassador, Count Bencken-
dorf, had just had a telegram, telling him that his son, an
officer in the Horse Guards, had been severely wounded.
Then I heard from another of my countrymen that his
two nephews, who were in my son’s squadron, had been
killed.

During the night somebody knocked me up and the
whole family of my friend Bibikov embraced me. A
telegram hadcomein saying that my son was unhurt and
had been decorated with the Order of St. George, the
highest reward for a soldier.

This marked the beginning of his career. Three months
later he was Colonel and Aide-de-camp to the Emperor,
then in the course of the war he became Brigadier-General,
Divisional General and Commander of a Cavalry Corps.
When the lawyer Kerensky became Commander-in-
Chief of the Russian armies, he was recalled. After the
collapse he was arrested and condemned to death by the
Bolsheviks, and it was only through the courage of his
wife that he escaped. Then he joined the anti-Bolshevist
army and was first in command of a big detachment, later
of a division consisting of the Volunteer Army of the
Caucasus, and finally he was made Commander-in-Chief.

In the end, after numerous vicissitudes, we got back to
Russia.

The war had brought about a reconciliation between the
Czar and his people. The strikes had ceased and the dis-
turbances were over. The Sovereign and his people were1914-1918 249
henceforth united. The Grand Duke Nicholas, who up to
then had been little liked, was suddenly become popular.
To everybody’s astonishment, the mobilisation had
proceeded without a hitch. The Opposition in the Duma
gave its full support to the Government. A declaration
regarding the autonomy of Poland was greeted with
acclamation both by the Poles and by the Russians.

For some months everything ran perfectly. At St.
Petersburg there was hardly a sign that we were at war.
In contrast to what I had seen in Paris and London, the
streets were full of young men, fit for military service,
yet nearly six million men were already mobilised. There
was no restriction on the sale of any kind of goods. Only
a number of halls and large private houses had been con-
verted into provisional hospitals and many ladies were
wearing Red Cross uniform or mourning ; their number
increased day by day.

Our second son, who was medically exempt from
military service, had left for the theatre of war, too,
with the Red Cross. In the spring he came home for a few
days, deeply impressed by what he had seen and full of
plans for the future. New horizons had opened out
before him. Up till then he had applied himself entirely
to the history of the arts ; he was now planning out a great
historical work which should trace the whole progress of
humanitarian ideas. He would start on it when the war
was over.

Poor boy! A few days later we had a telegram saying
he was dead.

The war of movement soon degenerated into trench
warfare. We lacked arms and ammunition, and having250 PROM SE RE DOM: 2.0) bOUSHEVisM

nothing to fight with, the army rotted in the trenches.
The Duma got indignant; members asked questions.
The Government denied the evidence, and, as usual, took
refuge in lies ; it gave the Chamber clearly to understand
that it was meddling in matters with which it had nothing
to do. Relations between the Government and the nation
were again strained and became if possible worse than
before. The popularity of the Grand Duke Nicholas alone
survived. He had succeeded in winning the affection of the
troops, and in times of crisis the people look for someone
about whom they can rally, and are prepared to make a
popular idol of anybody, whether he deserves it or
not.

In spite of the past, the Intelligentzia and the Govern-
ment proved once again that they had learnt nothing and
forgotten nothing.

In spite of the war, the Intelligentzia continued, as
before, to see in the revolution the universal panacea for
allills, whilst we others (for there had been no real Govern-
ment for some time) sought the remedy in absolutism.
The conflict of views resulted in complete confusion,
leading inevitably to disaster. In such circumstances it
became impossible to bring the war to a successful conclu-
sion. The Allies understood this and became agitated.
The French Ambassador, Monsieur Paléologue, tried to
make His Majesty see the real state of affairs. The Czar
smiled at him in his charming way, agreed to everything,
promised everything and did nothing.

When at last we had arms and ammunition for fighting
the supreme effort was made. Galicia was invaded and
Lvov fell. Then, instead of sending out what was necessary
to consolidate our gains—troops and ammunition—they1914-1918 251
sent out whole convoys of priests to introduce Orthodoxy
into Galicia, and of tshinovniks, to Russianise the country.

This strange strategy had certainly not been recom-
mended by the Grand Duke or by his General Staff.

The conduct of the war was no longer dependent upon
the Grand Duke Nicholas. His views were coming to be
regarded as “ advanced,” that is to say, he was one of
those whom those in authority considered harmful and
pernicious. Rasputin was hostile to him ; it followed that
the Empress became hostile to him, too, and, as a natural
consequence, the Emperor also.

It was known in the town that Rasputin, whose in-
fluence increased daily, had expressed a wish to visit the
theatre of war. But the Grand Duke did not want him,
and he let this be known quietly. The Empress, who was
very obstinate, especially where the holy man was con-
cerned, wanted to force the Grand Duke’s hand, and sent
him a telegram asking him to receive Rasputin. He re-
plied: ‘‘ Am eagerly awaiting him. The order to hang
him, as soon as he arrives, has been given.”’

I don’t know whether the story is true, but whether it
be true or not, the Grand Duke was shortly afterwards
relieved of his command and the Emperor himself took
his place and left to join the army.

Three years had passed since the beginning of the war
and the most bloody butchery that humanity has ever
seen still went on. Hundreds of thousands of men had
been slain, and hundreds of thousands had been muti-
lated: but the fallen were replaced by others and those
by others again.

For lack of labour the fields remained uncultivated252 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM
Industry had suffered a severe blow through the emptying
of factories as the result of an order stupidly issued and
still more stupidly carried into effect, so that hundreds of
thousands of workmen were thrown out of employment.
In the frontier provinces millions of inhabitants who were
non-Russians and not of the Orthodox religion were
treated as enemy aliens, carried off from their homes and
exiled to other provinces, where they had to beg their
bread and became a charge on the native population. Vast
quantities of horses and cattle, which had been unneces-
sarily requisitioned, were collected into dumps, where
they perished from hunger and neglect. Enormous stocks
of food-stuffs destined for the army were left to rot for
lack of means of transport. Millions of men, who had been
unnecessarily and hurriedly mobilised, filled the cities
and the capitals. Badly clothed, badly housed and badly
fed, without officers to look after them, they swarmed in
their barracks with nothing to do, died of boredom and
got demoralised. In short, confusion and disorganisation
were universal.

But the country bore its afflictions without a murmur.
Faithful to its duty and to its Allies, the army held its
ground. It believed in victory to the end, and that if
munitions and arms were lacking to-day there would be
plenty to-morrow ; and that then we should be victorious.

Nicholas II was still on the throne. He had taken over
the supreme command of the armies, but in fact he was
neither ruler nor commander. Rasputin was the master.
He whispered his wishes to the Empress, and she imposed
them upon the Czar; the autocrat of all the Russias
blindly obeyed and imposed upon his peoples and upon
his armies the wishes of the fugitive from justice.1914-1918 253

The ministers and chiefs whom Rasputin did not like
were deposed and replaced by his creatures. Hated and
despised by the nation, those who had contrived by money
and by foul means to win his favour, trafficked with his
influence. The Czar was unable to disassociate himself
from these intrigues, and shared in the resulting discredit.

Treated by the Government with hostile contempt, the
Duma had become a platform for sedition. Even the
extreme right, which in spite of everything always extolled
absolutism, now loudly denounced the Empress and her
mentor.

Rasputin was assassinated by a deputy of the extreme
right. But his creatures remained in power.

And suddenly, without any apparent cause, the edifice
of absolutism, which even yesterday had appeared to be
inviolable, tottered on its foundations and fell. It was not
overthrown by human hands. It collapsed of its own
accord, for it was rotten, and sooner or later it was bound
to crash.

As I have already said, I am not writing history. I am
simply telling what I have seen and experienced. Others
shall have the glory of presenting a complete and brilliant
picture of that nameless thing, suggesting both the cele-
brations of slaves freed from fear of the whip and a bar-
barous dance of death, which we call to-day “ the great
Russian Revolution.” The episodes which I saw were
deplorable rather than grandiose, and calculated rather to
arouse disgust than to provoke admiration. I shall confine
myself to recounting what I actually saw, without seeking
to compose a complete picture or attempting to impose
my conclusions upon anybody.254 RROM SERRE DOM LTO SOLS HEY tsm™

For some months the “ disturbances ’’—that is what the
police called them—had again been part of the daily
routine. They no longer frightened anybody, either the
Government or the public. We were used to them, and
besides, they were not very terrifying. The workmen and
students—or rather young idlers who were supposed to
be studying, but were not—strolled about the principal
streets of the capital, yelling their eternal “ Interna-
tionale’’’ and singing the “ Marseillaise”’ in the wrong
key. They took up their position in front of the church of
Kazan, and sometimes, when they were specially exhila-
rated, they smashed a few windows and got a touch of
the Cossacks’ whips. Then, proud of having fulfilled their
duty as citizens, they would go quietly home and start
the same game again a few days later.

One morning I was lunching at the Hotel de l’Europe
with an American journalist. He spoke Russian fairly
fluently, but very oddly. He used phrases that are only
found in a dictionary and spoke like a character in a
book. He knew our literature and our history and was
well posted in his facts, but understood neither the soul
nor the mentality of the Russians. He had come to
Russia specially in order to be present at the great Russian
Revolution, which he was certain was coming, and he was
watching for it. He seemed to think that the Revolution
must change for the better, not only the face of Russia,
but all Europe. The programme was alluring. There was
only one drawback: the American thought that the
Russians were a civilised people—indeed, that they were
more civilised than any other nation. He had come to
this conclusion after reading the writings of our Intelli-
gentzia.

dIgr14-i1918 255

“ Otherwise,” he said, “‘ your writers would not have
written as they did. You can only preach doctrines suited
to the circumstances. It would be stupid to speak in the
way they do to people who are half savage.”’

“That is actually what they have done in Russia. We
do, in fact, inculcate ideas which are beyond the range of
the people’s understanding.”’

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Then you would have me believe that your men of
letters are fools ?”’

“Not fools; but they don’t know what they are
doing.”’

We were lunching by the window and saw a troop of
Cossacks cantering past. We were told that disturbances
had taken place at the Perspective. My American seized
his kodak and rushed into the street. He was anxious to
see the beginning of the great Russian Revolution; I
followed him. Everything went on peacefully, just as
usual. The people marched, shouted and took up their
positions on the Kazan square. The American button-
holed a passer-by.

‘“ What is the aim of the movement ?”’ he asked.

“Excuse me, I don’t understand what you mean.”’

‘TI want to know what is the object of the demonstra-
tion. What are the aspirations of the Russian people ?”’

‘“T beg your pardon. Did you say aspirations ?”’

‘““T should like to know what they want to seize—the
Imperial Palace, the seat of the autocracy ? The Ministry ?
The Government offices ? The arsenal, where the arms are
stored ?”’

‘They don’t want to seize anything, sir. It’s just a
disturbance.”256 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

‘“A disturbance? Sensible people don’t make a dis-
turbance without some definite object. They must know
what they want.”

The other man was still looking at him with a bewil-
dered expression.

“ T should like to know what are the aims of the Russian
people.”

“The aims? Why, it’s a demonstration.”

The American got angry.

‘“'\ demonstration ? This a demonstration ? A demon-
stration, sir, is a reasoned, organised action, the object of
which is to impress one’s opponent. A demonstration, Sir,
is a reasonable action with a definite aim. That, a demon-
stration ? It’s nonsense, a moral insanity . . !”

Then he turned to me and said: ‘“‘ It’s not interesting.
Let’s go and lunch.”’

But our Intelligentzia thought otherwise, and conduced
to the view that these disorders, which the American
qualified as “‘ nonsense,” as © moral insanity,’ were more
than a civic demonstration. And the proletariat, ignorant
as the students who had left their books, were intoxicated
with their words and thought themselves heroes.

Towards the end of January the disturbances became
more frequent. No great importance would have been
attached to them, for they were now in the nature of
things, if the new Minister of the Interior, Protopopov,
one of Rasputin’s creatures, had not boasted to everybody
he met that he was not a man to be treated lightly. He
would restore order permanently without any trouble.
His Excellency, poor man, as everybody knew, was
threatened with a mental disease, so he was anxious to
prove that the rumour was unfounded and to show theI9g14-1918
public that he was not a madman but a great statesman.
He gave orders that “‘ these disturbances should be the
last of their kind.’”’ And the police took measures accord-
ingly.

As the Minister’s orders had occasioned several brawls
in the town, much larger crowds than usual collected on
26th February. Both demonstrators and ordinary inquisi-
tive citizens were curious to see how the illustrious states-
man and candidate for the padded cell would deal with
the situation.

The crowd, which was congesting the streets, was not
in the least aggressive. Except for a few fierce-looking
proletarians and young men who had broken off their
studies and who, taking their réle seriously, posed as
conspirators, most of the people were there just to be in
the movement and to abuse the Government, not to
overthrow it. Proletarians and bourgeois chatted together
in a friendly way. To be a bourgeois was not yet a crime ;
contempt for the Government was unanimous. The result
was that the classes had as yet no reason to hate each
other. But, as always happens when people are expecting
something extraordinary to happen, they were more
nervous and highly strung than usual. When people are
like that a mere spark is enough to start a conflagration.

Sentry posts were doubled. The reserves of ‘‘ pharaohs”
as the people called the constables, were called out. They
were reinforced by Cossacks, but not the fine, elegant,
well-mounted Cossacks of the Guard who knew their job
and whom the capital was accustomed to see and the
populace feared. These Cossacks, like the rest of the
Guard, were at the front. Their place was taken by poor

devils from the reserve.
R258 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

These so-called soldiers were pitiable. They had only
recently been uprooted from their villages and were
dilapidated and comic-looking, either too old or too young,
with poor horses; they looked more like peasants than
soldiers.

If these wretched creatures had to fire they would
only increase the disturbance instead of suppressing it.
Nobody but a madman like Protopopov would have
dreamed of relying on them.

A group of students, of the type that works hard and
enjoys a joke, burst into roars of laughter at the sight of
these strange warriors.

“Hi! there! Archangel Gabriel,” one of them shouted
to an old man. ‘‘ Beware of the girls, my fine bronzed hero.
They'll hug you to death.”

A student who must have been quite young and seemed
to have come straight from college said: “ What! Is
that the famous Imperial Guard that we’ve heard so
much about ?”’

“Certainly, old boy. Fine fellows, aren’t they ?”’

“T call them ragamuffins.’’

‘ Like master, like man,’’ said a snub-nosed little urchin
who had been thirsting to get a word in. The student
gave him a terrific look.

“You wretched little worm! You're taking up the
cudgels against the Government too, are you ? Come and
see me. I’ve got some nice stories to tell you about it.”

“Look, sir, look!” shouted a fat old dame. Heal
do some harm.”

She was pointing at a strange man who was gesticulat-
ing on the pavement. There was no mistake about it
—he was mad.1914-1918 259

“T tell you he’ll do some harm, sir. He ought to be
arrested.”’

“ You mustn't suggest such a thing, my dear lady.
Impossible. He’s the new Minister of the Interior, Proto-
popov.”’

They all laughed.

* What, is that him?”

“ Of course it is. Just watch.”

The wag went up to a police officer and, touching his
hat, said: ““ Excuse me, I should like to ask you a ques-
tion.”’

‘Iam at your service.”’

“Is it true that that gentleman ’’—and he pointed to
the madman—" is the Minister Protopopov ?”

The officer smiled.

‘ Pass on, gentlemen, pass on. Meetings are forbidden.”
The public laughed.

‘“ That’s a good one, young man.’
‘ Pass on, gentlemen,’’ shouted an urchin at a constable,
Pass on, gentlemen, please ; pass on.”’

“ Dirty pharaoh !”’

“Pharaoh! Be off and be hanged !”

“ Pass on, gentlemen.”

“ Those dirty police have nothing to do but to annoy
the public.”’

Everywhere more or less similar scenes were occurring.
But the pharaohs were gradually losing their patience, and
here and there the usual “‘ Pass on, please’ was reinforced
with a truncheon. But nothing serious occurred. The
blows were taken in good part and even laughing.

I went up to the Perspective again and walked towards

,

ce260 EROM SEREDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

the Moscow station. The crowd got thicker and thicker ;
it was difficult to make headway.

‘ Pass on, gentlemen, please.”

It was impossible to do so.

New streams of people arrived from every side and
poured into the middle of the road, where lines of Cossacks
on horseback were proceeding at a walk.

The police were trying to press the crowd back. The
crowd were jostling them.

‘Trot !”’ shouted an officer. But the crowd seized the
horses’ bridles and tails and held the Cossacks by their
legs. A man was unhorsed, and a horse reared and broke
down. The police used their truncheons. The populace
retaliated. A command was shouted and the Cossacks
unsheathed their swords. Suddenly one of them fired
point-blank at a police officer. The man threw up his
arms and fell dead in the road. A cry of distress, like a
huge sigh, went up from a thousand breasts. Then there
was a deathly silence.

‘“ Hurrah !” shouts a child.

A terrific hurrah rings out like a thunderclap, the
tempest is let loose. Thousands of human animals shout,
yelp and roar. The “hurrahs”’ ring out like cannon
shots.

It was impossible to understand what is happening to
them. Cossacks fraternised with the crowd, the police
disappeared, men embraced each other, jostled each
other, crushed each other and went mad with excitement.
There was a general movement and I was carried by the
stream into a side street. I walked straight ahead without
knowing where I was going.

I got into another district, where everything was quietI9gI4-1918 261
and normal. It seemed as if nothing had happened. There
were few people about. Somebody spoke to me.

~ Excuse me, have you come from the Perspective ?”

~ Yes, I have.”

~ I hear that the public are being massacred there.’’

Some other passers-by stopped and formed into a
group.

~ There are hundreds of victims already.”

~ Five hundred,” said somebody.

“ Only yesterday the Preobrazhenski regiment went
over to the people.”

‘ That’s not true.”

y icheard.: .°.”*

~ So has the Volhyniaf regiment.”’

~ Let’s hope they’ve really done it this time.”

ol tell vouthat: .. .”

I went on my way home. In the evening the town was
quite quiet. Cars were about and tramways were running
as usual ; cafés were packed. Only the police had disap-
peared.

There was some casual discussion of the events of the
day, but nobody regarded them as very significant. We
had got used to such things, and we never imagined that
the reservist’s shot was to be the prelude to the stupid and
bloody drama that was to be played.

I woke up later than usual next day and was surprised
that the streets were so silent. I missed the noise of trams
and cars and the thousand sounds of the city, which by
this time was generally bustling with activity. I went
to a window which looked out on a junction of four roads.262 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

The sight I saw had the ashen-grey quality of nightmare
sad, monotonous and repulsively ugly, but pathetically
moving. A vast crowd of beings, strangely clad in long
grey cloaks and grey caps, dirty rags of uniform, having
served their time, filled the streets. It was like a vast
flock of sheep, such as one often sees in the Eastern
steppes, grey with dust and caught by the storm. Mad
with fear, they stand huddled together motionless, hour
after hour, with bowed head, waiting till the storm is
over, when their shepherd will drive them where he will.
They were the mobilised reserves, who for months had
been swarming in their melancholy barracks, demoralised
by boredom and idleness. Driven by the wind of license
which had been blowing the day before, and without any
idea as to what they were about, these wretched men had
obviously overpowered the guard, left their barracks and
now, trembling at their crime, they were awaiting, just
like sheep, the wishes of their master.

Would he drive them to the slaughter-house or would
he leave them to graze a little longer ?

I went out into the street; the human herd was still
there. The poor wretches seemed so miserable that it was
quite affecting.

Weary and dejected, their dull eyes sunk in vacancy,
they shifted about without uttering a word. It was
appalling.

Suddenly they shuddered. Firing was heard in the
distance.

‘ They’re firing !”’
One wretched man looked at me and made as if to speak.
A profound sigh escaped him, but he said nothing; heIg14-1918 263
sighed again, stepped back and was merged again in the
crowd.

“It’s getting warm,” said a workman.

‘It’s on the other side of the Neva,” said a passer-by.

I looked around. The old man who had wanted to
speak to me had been standing next to me.

‘“ Batiushka,” his voice trembled, “‘ there is no point in
our being here. We shall be held responsible. What will
they do to us ?”’

“We only came out of our barracks to see what was
going on without intending any harm,” said another.

The workman laughed.

“You don’t think they are likely to believe that, do
you ?” he said.

“Our comrades will bear witness. . .”’

“Your comrades! They'll be shot first. The officers
won’t wait for your permission! One knows what they
are, the traitors !”

The firing began again, harder than before. It was now
coming from the other side.

“ Tt’s coming from the side of the Quadrant,’’ somebody
said.

The old man crossed himself. ‘“‘ May God watch over
us !”

“God!” jeered the workman. ‘‘ Don’t be silly. God
doesn’t exist.”

“Don’t blaspheme.”’

“We are innocent. . .

The workman laughed.

“Don’t be frightened, you old fool! Don’t you see
that we’re all right ? We’ve got the upper hand ; we only

+”?264 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

have to stand firm. Go back, take your rifles and shout
‘Long live the people!’ ”

‘But we haven’t got any arms.”

“Get some from the arsenal. I’ll take you. Come on.”

He started off. Some men followed him, others went
a little way and then stopped.

The flock did not move.

A few hours later the picture had changed. The grey
flock of sheep had disappeared. Workmen and students,
men difficult to class, alone or in groups, in a squad, armed
with rifles and wearing cartridge belts came and went,
stopped and went back again. You could see that they
weren’t quite clear in what direction they should go,
what they should do, and that they had no definite aim ;
but it was urgent that they should act, and they did so.
Armed men became more and more numerous. Motor
lorries full of them kept passing backwards and forwards.
The trams had stopped running. Hardly any cabs or
private carriages were to be seen. A lady drove up in a
motor ; they stopped the car, made her get out, and asked
her who she was and where she lived. They turned over
the cushions, searched under the seats, held a long consul-
tation, and finally the lady got in again and the car was
allowed to go on. It was obvious that nobody knew why
they were acting in this way, or why it was necessary, but
henceforth every carriage was stopped and searched.

Another motor drives up. It is being driven by an officer,
He is told to stop, but the officer pays no attention, and
speeds up. The revolutionaries scatter and the car passes.
When it is some distance off they fire a few shots at it.
One of the champions of liberty is wounded by his fellow.
He is carried off, and they revile the dirty rich who crushI914-1918 265
the poor. But that doesn’t last long. There are other
things to do. Other carriages that must be searched drive
up.

A troop of revolutionary cavalry appears. They are
mounted on cab-horses, on blood horses, on old draft
horses, on ponies and on chargers. Their riders are equally
diverse, but they all have sabre and spurs. How on earth
did they manage to bestride their mounts ? It’s a mystery,
but they are quite proud to be there. They pull their
wretched nags, make enormous efforts to get them to
prance, and when they succeed in doing so they have to
hang on to the horse’s mane or to the saddle in order not
to fall off ; they lose their stirrups, and when the horse
drops back into a walk they look contemptuously, like
conquerors, upon those who are walking on foot.

In the square, urchins with rifles taller than themselves
light a bonfire and then, after posting sentinels, lie down
by the fire.

The lorries, rushing about at top speed, become more
and more numerous. They are full of armed men, work-
men, students and girls waving red flags. Everybody is
singing, firing into the air and shouting ‘‘ Hurrah !”’ The
streets cheer them and the dogs bark; there are such
crowds of them that the window-panes tremble. Dozens,
then hundreds, of cars, full of the same kind of people,
roll by in one continuous, horrible train.

The people shout and sing and wave red rags. Fierce
warriors lie on their stomachs on the side-walk, rifle at the
shoulder, ready to fire. That appears to be essential, for
it is always done.

Then the cars are no longer to be counted by hundreds,
but by tens of thousands. There is no-end to them.266 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

One’s head begins to whirl. The poor devils have never
been in a car before and they are making up for lost
time.

And they go on driving past, driving all night until the
next morning, still driving, as long as the tyres will hold
out. When the car is broken they abandon it. They
requisition another and off they go again! To roll along
in a car had become a passion a fixed idea which lasted
several days—in fact as long as there was petrol to com-
mandeer.

A group of “ comrades ” enter a neighbouring garage ,
they have had a breakdown in the middle of the street.
There is still a car left, but it won’t go. The careful chaf-
feur has seen to that.

One of the wenches, disappointed of her joy-ride, has
hysterics. In order to help her to recover, her friends
smash the window-panes, break up the car and beat the
driver. They would certainly have done for him if some-
body had not run up to tell them the joyful news that
another car had been found. The “ bourgeois ”’ had been
turned out of it. They are on to it at top speed, and now
they are off again, driving along, shouting, firing and
waving their red flags.

When I think of the opening scenes of this great revolu-
tion, the first things I think of are the grey sheep and the
thousands of cars. Indeed, in the early days, to drive
about was the great thing to do. But it wasn’t everything.
As we shall see, it did not prevent a man from carrying out
his other civic duties.

Towards evening the Palace of Justice was burnt and
the house of the Minister of the Imperial Court and a few
others were set on fire. Shots were fired at random, hereIg14-1918 267
and there, and after a little shooting, those who hadn’t
got cars went off to bed.

The next morning the game went on more merrily than
ever. The cars kept on driving past with people singing,
shouting and waving red flags, but they weren’t firing
into the air any longer, but just anywhere at random, all
over the place. Insome places there were even a few small
pitched battles between tiny detachments of the regular
soldiers (there were hardly any left in the town, for they
were all at the front) and whole regiments of the dis-
affected reservists. But these battles did not last long,
the sides being too unequally matched.

The ministers were arrested, and also a few stray men,
known and unknown, and were locked up in the Duma,
where they had to sleep on tables, chairs and on the
ground.

The prisons containing those detained for political
offences were thrown open and then for the sake of consis-
tency the prisons for ordinary criminals as well. A flood
of convicts in their grey clothes, with the convict’s yellow
square on the back, streamed out. These excellent fellows
plundered the confectionery shops, changed their clothes
in the street and, good citizens once more, mingled with
the crowd.

I saw this incident myself, andit was not very reassuring.
On that day a large number of crimes were committed.
Nobody felt safe, especially as the authorities, including
the police, had disappeared.

But liberty had been won, and now we were all free
men, riding in cars. At any rate, the papers were unani-
mous in saying so.

The papers even asserted that the “great Russian268 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

Revolution ’’ was the most “‘ splendid, the most magni-
ficent, the most glorious and the most peaceful revolution
that the world had ever seen.”’ Mark the word “ peaceful.”
The newspapers always know best, and they must be
right. But I must confess that I had not yet noticed the
grand revolution. To drive for nothing in other people’s
cars, to let off rifles in the main street, to deafen everybody
with shouting is, no doubt, to acquire some of the rights of
man. Only, as far as I am aware, this is not called “‘ revo-
lution,’ but something else; what, I don’t know. My
American had used the right terms when he called it
~“ nonsense”’ and “‘moral insanity.’’ And was it ‘‘peace-
ful ?’”’ But I do not lay stress on this term. It is said that
there had been even then thousands of victims, and that
was only the beginning. But everything is relative. Even
if the victims had amounted to a hundred thousand, two
or three hundred thousand, or even a million, it might
have been called peaceful. But was it “ splendid,”
“ magnificent,” or “‘ glorious’? “‘ Splendid ” it certainly
was not. It had been frankly ugly and, what is worse,
stupid. “Glorious and magnificent ?”’ It must be ad-
mitted that it will be difficult for the future historian to
prove that this Revolution (a peaceful one, if you like) was
glorious and magnificent. He will have to be helped out
somehow. We shall have to try and whitewash this dis-
gusting Revolution and disguise its worst aspects.

At the beginning the organisers seem to have been
aware of this, and on the second day they discovered
what was necessary to make it “ great and glorious.”
They started a war of extermination against the police ;
against the unfortunate policeman, who, quite recently a
moujik, had then served three or four years in the army,I9gt4-1918 209
and finally, a king of Egypt with twenty roubles a month
as his pay, watched over the security of the citizens and
was occasionally given a small glass of wine by a drunk
who didn’t want to be locked up.

To declare war was not a bad notion, even Austria had
done so; but how were they to start hostilities? All
the police had disappeared. So that was that: there was
not a victim to be found for all the gold of the Indies.

Where were those infamous tyrants? There was the
rub.

It was scarcely probable that, like a well-known charac-
ter in the Bible, they had been taken up alive into heaven.
The Emperor William had declared that God was the
special deity of the Boches and was looking after their
interests. It was therefore unlikely that such favour
should have been shown to the agents of a Power at war
with Germany.

It was also impossible that they should have escaped
to Belgium, Egypt or America ; the police did not know
of the existence of those countries. They must therefore
be hiding in disguise in the town itself: and they pro-
ceeded to hunt for them. It became an absolute passion.
Shops, stations, dog-kennels, houses, attics, basements
and especially roofs, were searched for these agents of the
bourgeoisie. It seemed that Protopopov was stated to
have posted machine-guns on the roofs, and there could
be no doubt that the ruffians were there, ready to fire at
the word of command on the wretched people. Gangs of
~ comrades’ (the word was now fashionable) invaded
your house and your rooms, pointed revolvers at you,
rummaged about everywhere, opened cupboards, looked
under the furniture and under the carpets, and while they270 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

were about it pocketed any small objects of value that
might be lying about. Then they went off to search
elsewhere, while others took their place.

Sometimes a comrade would pull the trigger accidentally
and then there would be trouble. There would be shouts of
“They are firing on the people!” and the householder
would be killed.

A man went into the baker’s shop opposite. An urchin
shouted: ‘‘A policeman in disguise !’’ The man was
killed.

It was the proprietor of the shop himself.

A man was seen walking on the roof. There were shouts
of: ‘A policeman !’’ The crowd rushed up the staircase ;
but a comrade, who just happened to be passing, fired at
him, and the man fell dead on to the pavement. It wasa
mistake ; he was only a chimney sweep.

A police officer’s family lived in a wing of our house.
The man, of course, had fled. The comrades only found
his wife there with three young children. The youngest
was only a baby. The wife was seized and dragged off to
show where her husband was hidden. The two elder
children hung on to her skirts and were killed. The baby
started crying. They took it by the feet and dashed its
brains out against the wall.

I saw a platoon of soldiers firing at a house. I asked a
sergeant, who was a fine specimen of a trooper, why they
were doing so. He saluted.

‘We are told that some of those rotten policemen are
hiding there, your Honour. But rifle fire is certainly no
use. Ivanov! Run off to the gunners and tell them to
come and lend a hand.”

A little further off a crowd was collecting. A group ofI914-1918 BTL
comrades were dragging along a man who was as pale as
death. The crowd was booing him ; those who could get
at him were beating him. One of his escort stopped and
asked me fora light. Some idlers came up.

“Was it you who arrested him ?”’ one of them asked
him.

“IT was one of them. He’s a nasty one! We know
what to do with those blighters. We knocked and knocked
and nobody opened the door. We forced it. There was
nobody there. The dirty brute had hidden under the bed.
Nosov—you know him, he’s in the third platoon—
dragged him out by his feet. He had the wind up all
right.”

“ The filthy beasts ! They are all cowards.”

Beves: thats a fact.

“ As timid as rabbits, those bobbies are.”’

mw levercaught... .:

“ Do let him speak.”’

“He was as limp as a rag. He couldn’t even stand up,
he was trembling so.”’

“You should have given him a few good blows to bring
him round. It’s an infallible remedy.”’

“What do you take me for ? That’s just what we did.
We know how to deal with them. We’re not such fools
as you think we are. I don’t care who knows.”’

“What did he say ?”

“ He told me he was a cleaner.”’

‘“That’s a good one! A bobby scrubbing floors! A bit
thick ”

“ He’s got nerve.”’
“ A nice fellow !”’
“What do you think we ought to do ?”272 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

‘ Do let him speak. If you always interrupt. . .”

‘“ Then of course we started beating him. But Ivanov—
you know who I mean, the one in the third, not the one
in the fifth—said: ‘Stop that. Don’t kill him. You
must take him to the Duma. If they handle him properly
he'll tell us a few things. That lad knows everything.
He’s one of the chiefs ?”’

“A policeman in disguise !’”” shouted somebody in the
street, and everybody dashed off to the new victim.

‘ They’re a fine lot,’”’ said our concierge to me. “ The
poor fellow! He lives in No. 20. Yes, sir, he’s been living
there for the last eight years. He’s my wife’s cousin, and
so of course he’s a friend of mine. He’s a cleaner who
works in the best houses. He’s got a splendid clientele.
He’s an excellent fellow, one of the best.”’

“Why didn’t you say so ?”

“Why, they would have killed me, sir. You see that
they have gone raging mad. Besides, it never does to poke
your nose into other people’s affairs. They’re mad, I tell
you. Wanting to do without the police! That’ll be a nice
thing !”’

“Will be!’ I thought. It had already happened. And
very nice it was too.

The police-hunting mania did not last as long as the
motor-car mania. Next day policemen were at a discount.
They were murdered when opportunity offered, but
people didn’t trouble to hunt them out.

Disarming officers was the next popular sport. And
that in war-time! But I shall not speak of that amuse-
ment—I don’t know what else to call it. It was too dis-
tressing. Even to-day, when I think of those disgraceful
scenes, lam overcome with nausea.I9g14-1918 273

In spite of the efforts of the Intelligentzia, we did not
manage to get up even a fairly decent revolution. The
~ great and glorious revolution’ remained what it had
been at the start: a “‘ moral insanity,” a brawl of wild
savages and apaches, an absurdity.

The word revolution implies a struggle ; but to havea
struggle there must be somebody to struggle against. This
essential factor was lacking ; there was no enemy. There
was no one to show fight. The authorities were in hiding,
they had abdicated ; the police, headed by the prefect, had
disappeared ; the bourgeois remained inert and trembling
with fear. There being no combatants, the fight had be-
come impossible. The military consisted of a few wretched
handfuls of regular soldiers, who struggled as long as they
possibly could, that is, for a few moments. The remainder
consisted of the wretched flock of grey sheep, waiting
patiently for their masters. And the master (the first
person who turned up) came and said: “Shoo! Go to
the arsenal and get arms.’”’ And they did so. “Shoo!
Fire !’? and they obeyed. And then, as they got no further
orders, they did nothing, for there was nothing to do
except to roam about, drive in motor-cars, thrash those
who were alleged to be police and deprive of their arms
those officers who had been wounded or who were going
to leave for the front or had come home on leave, and to
take stray people off to the guardroom or murder
them.

It was an aimless revolution, in which there was no
enemy, and neither conquerors nor conquered; for
everyone was an enemy of the existing régime. Victims
there certainly were in plenty, but no conquered, for
nobody offered any defence. Everyone submitted, except-

S

i)274 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

ing the few regular soldiers, who fought. In any case, such
fights were very uncommon episodes.

It was a revolution in which the only strength of the
conqueror lay in the weakness and cowardice of the con-
quered.

An odd kind of a revolution !

Everyone—the Czar, the Government and the Intelli-
gentzia—shared in the responsibility for the revolution
(if revolution be the right word for this stupidity) ; but
nobody, excepting the agents of Germany, assisted it in a
scientific way. The proletariat had no right to claim the
credit for it. It was a monstrosity born of Stupidity and
Chance, And it ended, as it was bound to end, in a general
mess-up.

Having regard to all the circumstances, a revolution—
I mean a genuine one—was inevitable sooner or later, and
perhaps even desirable, had there been men capable of
guiding and controlling it. Unhappily there were none,
either amongst “ us” or amongst “‘ them.” A swamp can
only engender amphibious creatures, without backbone
or muscle. It cannot produce men who are stronger and
more powerful than the crowd, which is indispensable for
carrying out an attack but useless for anything else. Asa
matter of fact, better men were needed for the attack too,
and such strong men as the country still possessed were
all at the front.

On the 1st March, when I got up my servant told me
that some troops were arriving. I looked out of the window
and I thought I was dreaming. The houses were covered
from top to bottom with red bunting. A large and orderly
crowd, wearing red buttonholes, were lining the pave-
ments. Huge red placards were borne in front of the1914-1918 275
regiments, the battalions and the platoons. A huge crowd,
wearing red ties, stood on the pavement. The reflection of
all this red colour, red houses, red scarves, red flags, red
placards, made the whole street look red, as though it had
been painted in blood.

Eighty thousand men, the whole military strength of
the capital, were on their way to swear fidelity to the
Revolution, just as, a little while since, they had taken the
oath of allegiance to the Emperor, who was still on the
throne and did not abdicate until some days later.

At the head of these red troops marched the former
marines of the Imperial Guard, now become the Red
Militia, “‘ the pride and glory of the Revolution.” Under
a red scarf, with a red favour on his chest, marched its
chief, an admiral, an aide-de-camp to His Majesty, a
cousin of the Emperor, His Imperial Highness the Grand
Duke Cyrille, who to-day has the audacity to declare
himself the legitimate heir to the Czar’s throne.

I should add that all these so-called Guards regiments
were reserves. The genuine Guards were at the front,
fighting the enemy. Those who were marching past under
the red flag were simply reserve units attached to the
regiments consisting of men who had just been mobilised.
The real Guards remained loyal up to the moment when
the Emperor himself absolved them from the oath of
allegiance which they had taken.

The town knew that the Prime Minister and the Presi-
dent of the Duma had informed His Majesty, who was
with the army, what was happening, and had insisted
that other ministers should be appointed. That would
have been enough to pacify the town. The Grand Duke
Alexander, the Emperor’s brother-in-law, had also urged276 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM
this: but the Czar had replied that he knew best what
ought to be done. He had ordered General Ivanov to
proceed at once with a battalion of picked men who were
all holders of the St. George’s Cross, to the capital and to
re-establish order at any cost. Other troops would be
sent after him.

The General left. Then the order was revoked.

Things got worse. The Czar in the end consented to a
change of Ministry.

The reply came: “Too late. You must abdicate in
favour of the heir.”’

That was all that was known in the town.

In the meantime the Duma, like everybody else, was
doing its duty. It was in permanent session, and a com-
mittee of public safety had been elected or had elected
themselves, I am not quite sure. They debated, made
statutes, wrote, telegraphed and were enormously busy ;
but nobody ever knew what they were doing. It is alleged,
though the fact is not absolutely attested, there being no
documents to prove it, that the committee was chiefly
busy trembling before the workmen and the populace.
Personally I don’t believe this is true, in view of the fact
that Monsieur Rodzianko, who is, I am assured, a man to
be believed, telegraphed to the Emperor, assuring him that
he was master of the situation. And you cannot be master
of a situation if you are in a panic.

In the evening a lady who was weeping bitterly, told us
that her husband had not been seen since that morning.
She thought he must be under arrest anda prisoner in the
Duma. As I have already explained, that is where they
deposited all those who were arrested at random, such
arrests being very frequent.I9g1r4-1918 277

I went off to enquire. An enormous crowd was collected
in front of the Duma. I managed to elbow my way through
and after a struggle to reach the door. I was not allowed
in. I applied to a deputy who was a friend of mine and
happened to be there. He laughed.

‘““ They won’t let me in either.”

We applied to a comrade ; he just laughed at us. We
offered him a cigarette. He lit it and spoke to another
comrade. “‘ Impossible,’”’ they said. In the end they let us
through. We got inside.

The rooms were full to suffocation. Comrades, soldiers
(belonging to the flock of sheep I have told you about),
Jews, women, Armenians, students, sailors, more sailors,
Semites, Semites and still more Semites—in fine, all those
who were soon to become the “ Soviet of Soldiers and
Workmen,’’ the potentates of Russia. They come and go,
pass in and out, sleep on the benches and on the ground,
harangue, argue and give and receive instructions, eat
sausages and drink beer, smoke and spit on the floor.
A lady is weeping in one corner; in another some com-
rades are roaring with laughter. The smoke is blinding
and makes it difficult to breathe. The heat is stifling.

We are told that Kerensky, the celebrity of to-morrow,
who is a deputy now and is making a lot of noise, but who
is not yet regarded seriously, has charge of the prisoners.
We stop him as he passes. He is tired out and does his
best to appear so. He looks as though he were going to
faint. He takes out a notebook and turns over the pages,
rolls his eyes wearily and mops his brow ; then he tells us
to whom we should apply. So we get to work with our
elbows again, jostle and get jostled.

At last we get to the man. The fellow sends us to278 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

another one and he sends us on again to a third, who
sends us to a fourth, whom we never find. Exhausted by
the struggle, utterly wearing, panting and half-dead, I
succeed in pushing my way through to the exit and get
back home without being robbed on the way, swearing
though it is rather late in the day, that I shall never let
myself in for such a job again.

Everybody’s husband can disappear, I don’t care. The
women will find new ones; there are plenty of fools in
the world.

On the 3rd March Russia was informed by Imperial
manifesto of the abdication of the Emperor Nicholas I
in favour of his brother the Grand Duke Michael, who,
preferring to go on having a good time, declined the
privilege, and handed over his powers to a Provisional
Government.

The curtain had fallen upon ‘‘ The absolutism of the
Romanovs.” It was to be followed by a stupid farce:
‘“‘Eunuchs in power,’ and that by the closing tragedy :
“ King Israel,’’ a drama approved by the Governments of
Germany, Britain, Italy and Bulgaria. Absolutism col-
lapsed and died away as any being is bound to die away
that lacks the strength necessary to continue existence.
Nothing unexpected occurred, nothing serious happened to
it, but the hour struck and it was finished. It had fulfilled
its function and it returned to dust.

If a man live too long and die later than he should, his
heirs begin to sigh as soon as he is impotent and aIgt4-1918 279
burden to others, then, glad to be their own masters at
last, they enter upon their inheritance, convinced that
they will be able to manage things much better than the
old man who, according to their statement, was “ already
quite feeble.”’

So the Provisional Government went happily to work ;
with such success that six months later they were com-
pletely bankrupt. Of the enormous wealth acquired
during the centuries there was not enough left to pay the
chemist’s bill. And then they no longer heaved a sigh of
relief but of despair.

A dull story, you say. Patience! It will soon get more
exciting and the end will be quite amusing—not only for
the Russians.

The fall of absolutism did not arouse much sorrow.
Everyone had had pretty well enough of it, except those
of “‘us’”’ who trembled for their skins. In fact many
people were delighted ; it was a solution of sorts. Indeed,
during the first few days it seemed as though at last
everything would run smoothly. The disturbances ceased,
and in spite of the absence of police life resumed its normal
course. The trams ran, carriages had reappeared and
drove in an ordinary way, just as they used to. One almost
wondered that such a well-behaved public should need
police at all. Only the roads became filthier and filthier,
and were soon like sewers; but that was only natural.
Men had not become free, heroes who with their own
strong arms had not demolished a throne, to go on
sweeping the streets and do dirty work, or indeed to do
any kind of work at all. The result was that people280 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM
stopped working, and under the pretext of civic demon-
strations strolled about the streets.

There were demonstrations from morn till eve. They
were preceded by enormous red banners with inscriptions

such as: “‘ Soldiers, to arms! Workers, man the barri-
cades !” “‘ We'll fight to a finish !”” Then came the school-
boys, whose banner read: “For free men work is a
pleasure.” There were hundreds of other slogans, all

equally amusing, for in point of fact they were doing just
the opposite—nobody was working at all. One met
demonstrations of workmen, of grey sheep, of employés,
of civil servants, of public women, of hunchbacks and
cripples and many others too, in fact of everybody
excepting infants in arms. I’msure there must have been
some of them too, only I hadn’t the chance of seeing
them. And there were meetings, meetings, and still more
meetings. People held meetings all over the place. The
speeches were always the same: ‘‘ Comrades, by a super-
human effort we have overthrown the tyrant! Now, by
efforts as terrific we shall lay the enemy low.”

“ Pravilno !’’?

“Comrades! The tyrant who has compelled us to cut
our brothers’ throats—for all men are our brothers—has
been laid low by your superhuman effort. Let us be mag-
nanimous, as the noble working-man always is. Let us
lay down our arms. There shall be no more war. There
are neither Germans, Russians, Jews nor Christians,
there are only free men. War is a crime, and your
women and children need you.”

“ Pravilno! Pravilno !”’

t Pravilno—hear, hear!I914-1918 281

Whatever was said they always agreed and shouted :
“ Pravilno! Pravilno!”

I once heard a cynical jester shouting out with great
enthusiasm: ““ Comrades! Now that the bloody tyrant
has been overthrown by your superhuman efforts, now
that his myrmidons are no more, I shout in the streets
in the public squares, on the roofs whence only yesterday
you were being treacherously shot down, ‘ Pravilno!
Pravilno!’ I shout everywhere: ‘ Comrades, you are
idiots, the greatest idiots that the world has ever seen,
and you will always be so.”’

“ Pravilno! Pravilno!”

Every day there was a splendid procession preceded
by a band with banners flying, and grey sheep lining the
route, to meet the great heroes of liberty at the station,
who were returning from abroad, whither they had fled to
escape the vengeance of the tyrant, of that sanguinary and
ferocious monster who had just been conquered by the
process of taking joy-rides.

Now it would be the ‘“‘ grandmother of the Revolution,”
Madame Breshko-Breshkovskaya, returning from exile ;
now it would be the “ grandfather,” Prince Kropotkin ;
now it would be brothers-in-law, uncles or nephews.

The most magnificent of these receptions took place in
the month of April, when “ all nature comes to life again,
and the sun gives the fields their fresh array.’ This fresh
array consisted of the Communists Ulianov-Lenin,
Bronstein-Trotzky, Radomysslsky-Zinoviev, Nakhamkes-
Stenlov and others whom Germany generously presented
to Russia, having given them sixty millions (the fact and
the amount are proved by authentic documents, and
Ludendorff confirms the fact in his Memoirs), to work in282 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

Russia for the glory of the enemy. The mission on which
these rays of sunlight had come was a secret to nobody,
especially as they were travelling in carriages which were
the property of those whose agents they were. But in-
stead of being hanged they were met with great ceremony
at the station, where they were acclaimed by members
of the Provisional Government and saluted with red flags.

You are puzzled? So am I. For the Provisional
Government did not aim at making Germany triumph,
but at bringing the war to a successful conclusion. But
although we may not understand it, the Intelligentzia,
who, it seems, are more intelligent than we are, under-
stood. ‘“‘ A free people (the freest people in the world, as
Kerensky declared) has not the moral right to forbid
anybody, even the agents of the enemy, to express their
opinions freely.”

Pravilno !

This surprises you? It does not surprise me. Nothing
could surprise me after what I saw and heard at that
time. If anything could still surprise me it would be,
certainly not the folly of humanity, but the amazing
energy and endurance shewn by the venerable “ grand-
mother of the Revolution,’’ Comrade Breshko-Breshkovs-
kaya. The Minister Kerensky had made the old woman his
mascot. She lived with him in the Winter Palace, and he
kept her on the run all day. They used to review the red
troops together, went together to the theatre of war, to
the Soviet and everywhere. And the old woman kept on
without turning a hair. It was impossible to exhaust her.
I believe, God forgive me, that even now the old woman
is still on the move and that she is kept in heaven as a
mascot for the second coming of the great eunuch.I914-1918

I say “great” to distinguish him from the other
members of the Provisional Government, who were all
eunuchs too ; figuratively, of course. At least I hope so,
for their sakes and that of their wives. The Provisional
Government consisted of Messrs. Kerensky, Miliukov. . .
but there is no point in mentioning their names. These
men, these emasculated wretches, rather, are not as
interesting as Europeans believe them to be. I have seen
more than one of their kind in the East: at the first
glance you would never suspect them of being the kind of
creatures they are. It is only when you see them at close
quarters that you can see that they are entirely lacking in
virility and that they are incredibly flabby creatures,
absolutely destitute of will power; that they are good
for nothing and not even competent to look after the
ladies of the seraglio, who pay no attention to them and
can do what they like with them. Just as in Russia, the
members of the “Soviet of Workmen and Soldiers”
settled everything not in accordance with the wishes of
the eunuchs of the Provisional Government, but as they
themselves decided. The wretched creatures were there-
fore merely ornamental objects who did more harm than
good. They were harmful because they brought everything
into confusion and chaos and let things take their disas-
trous course.

But I must say a few words about the Grand Eunuch
Kerensky. For some months he was the favourite clown,
the principal actor in the farce, the star buffoon who got
the show publicity. He played every part: Minister of
Justice, tribune, darling child, young premier, grand old
man, Prime Minister, Commander-in-Chief of the armies.
He played all the parts badly and caricatured them.284 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

He had no talent for anything except impudence. His
father, a poor Jew called Kirbis or Kirbitz—I’m not quite
sure which—died when the boy was about ten years old,
and his mother, after being baptized, married a Monsieur
Kerensky, a civil servant in the Education Department,
who had little Aaron baptized too, adopted him and gave
him his name.

When he had passed his examinations, Kerensky, ashe
was now called, became a provincial lawyer ; then he
came to St. Petersburg, where for some years he cut a
melancholy figure at the Bar.

The following anecdote will give you some idea of the
man and of his value as a human being.

An accident had occurred in the mine belonging to
the Lena Gold Mines Company Limited, of which I was a
director for some years. It is now called the Goldfields
Corporation. A police officer, seeing a crowd of miners
making for the chief engineer’s house, and thinking there
might be trouble, ordered his men to fire on them. A
number of men who were perfectly innocent were killed.
The opposition papers exploited the incident and started a
campaign.

The police officer was censured, but the victims’ families
had no chance of getting compensation either from the
Government or from the police officer, who had no
private means.

In these circumstances they were advised to take action
against the company, which they did.

The action could not possibly succeed, since the com-
pany was not responsible for an act committed by a
Government agent. The management agreed, however,
to make payment, and their lawyer, Monsieur Scheftel,1914-1918 285
was instructed to come to an arrangement with the
lawyers of the other side and to compensate anybody who
had a claim. The lawyers of the other side agreed at once,
excepting Kerensky, who definitely refused. His col-
leagues made very effort to persuade him that it was no
use taking the thing into court. His answer was: “I
realise that, but this case is necessary for me. It will be
talked about, and that’s what I need in order to get on.”

The wretched man had not enough sense or shame
simply to say “ No” without any explanation.

The case was brought and lost and the unfortunate
plaintiffs, who had entrusted their interests to him, got
nothing, and Kerensky’s name became a joke afterwards.

Then his high-sounding phrases, his hysterical speeches
and a lot of mummery with which he struck the workers’
imagination got him into the Duma. There he gave forth
floods of rhetoric in the role of popular tribune. He made
himself a laughing-stock, but was always admired “ by
the fools of the left’’ (the phrase is not mine but Milyukov’s)
his reputation increased with the comrades in proportion
as he was ignored by everybody else. He was carried into
the Provisional Government on the flood-tide of the
early days of March. Being more timid than his col-
leagues, he was not content, as they were, merely to intrigue
with the Soviet, which was becoming more powerful every
day, but became entirely its slave. The general public
did not understand the position, and thought that he was
in control.

He always managed to hold the stage, and, like a
popular actor, would show himself full face, three-
quarter face and in profile, drew in his waist, rolled his
eyes, fainted with despair, roared like a lion, bounded286 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

like a panther; in a word, he was always acting a part
and always changing his réle. Only he took himself quite
seriously, and genuinely thought himself a great states-
man and a great leader of men.

This puppet, dancing to the tune of the Soviet, seemed
to be more like a sentimental prostitute than a man, the
kind of girl who, while selling herself to the first person
she meets, remains faithful to the memory of some
Arthur or other, the romantic hero of her reading or of
her experience.

I would wager that, whether he was doing the poor
devils of the Lena Company out of the money they
might have had, or whether he was helping the emissaries
of Germany to carry out their dirty work, he was always
deeply moved by his ideal. He would be generous, great
and noble. Besides, he was a romantic and impotent cad.

The Soviet was the fruit of spontaneous generation ;
it owed its life to nobody. There was a desire to belong to
such a body, and at least half the people who felt this
desire were of non-Russian nationality—either Semites,
Georgians, Letts or Armenians. Such Russians as there
were, were sailors, deserters from the army, and escaped
convicts. Both categories contained a large proportion of
German agents, Both Houses, the Duma and the Council
of Empire, were abolished by it. Soon it was impossible to
say where the Provisional Government ended and where
the Soviet began. In point of fact the Soviet controlled
everything, and the Government, while pretending to have
absolute command, merely acquiesced in the require-
ments of the Soviet and gave its wishes the force of law.

One of the first acts of the Soviet was to publish the
famous General Order No. 1: the soldier was only toI9g14-1918
obey his officer when he thought it right to do so, and
much more in the same vein. The result is common
knowledge. The agonies of our army began then, and
with the assistance of the German emissaries it had soon
ceased to exist.

As a reward to the grey sheep for the distinguished
services rendered to the nation in the early days of
February, all the troops who had taken part were pro-
moted “red guard.”” The Government granted them the
privilege that they should never have to leave the capital
and never be disbanded. So they could now put up on
their placards without any fear at all: “Soldiers, to
arms! Fight toa finish!’ That did not commit them to
anything. They were not running any danger.

The Red Guards, simple sheep who had been promoted
to be Pretorians, having no longer to obey their chiefs or
to fear that they might be sent out of the capital, could
have plundered the town from end to end with impunity
if they had been less inert. The town was at their mercy,
and any other soldiery left to itself would certainly have
done so.

Thanks to their inertia and their incompetence, they
did not do so, and contented themselves with poisoning
the lives of the inhabitants.

In the exhilaration of their new dignity, these feeble
scourings of the population decided that there was no
point in their dressing decently. They went about the
streets and public places filthy and unkempt, with their
horribly grey rags of uniform hanging from their shoulders.

They took their siesta, and did worse things than that,
on the benches in the squares and the public gardens, or
snored at full length on the lawns. The sentinels on duty288 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

ensconced themselves in armchairs requisitioned from
neighbouring houses, put their rifles against the wall and
smoked cigarettes. They hailed women as they passed,
made offensive remarks to them and compelled them to sit
on their knees. They monopolised the trams and the
theatres. Of course they never paid, and if there were no
empty seats they just drove away the people who had
seats. All this was merely a beginning. By the autumn
they were robbing people in the streets in broad daylight ;
and they would, no doubt, soon be improving on that.

Fortunately the Bolsheviks cleared out the eunuchs
shortly afterwards and rid us of that verminous crowd.
That was the one good action they did; though it is true
that afterwards they extracted heavy payment for that
service.

We have passed through many experiences since. We
have seen rivers of blood, mountains of corpses, many
scenes more terrible, but none as sickening as that of the
sight of degraded brutes flaunting themselves as masters
in the capital which they had reduced to a latrine.

The emissaries of Germany, Lenin, Bronstein, Radom-
yslsky, Nashamkes, Uritzky, Zederbaum, Dzherjinsky and
their consorts had bred a numerous progeny with the
fertility typical of their race and, without paying any
attention to the Provisional Government, the whole swarm
had seized the houses belong to the dancer Kseszinska and
to General Durnovo, and from morning to night they
preached peace with Germany and war on the bourgeois
from the balconies.

The military command had several times proposed that
the Jews should be turned out, but Kerensky always
opposed the suggestion.Ig14-1918

“Our guests, the Communists,’’ he used to say, ‘* must
be housed suitably. I have told Pereversev, the Minister
of Justice, to find them suitable accommodation and
then we'll see what can be done.”

It seems that the Minister of Justice was not equal to
the duty of carrying out Kerensky’s command, for
several weeks passed without his succeeding in finding
anything suitable. By July, our guests, tired of waiting,
tried to overthrow the Government. It would seem that
the Winter Palace, where the Grand Eunuch and his
mascot lived, appealed to them. Kerensky took it amiss
and suddenly had them imprisoned. An enquiry was
instituted, and treachery in favour of Germany was
proved without the shadow of a doubt. Enough evidence
was forthcoming to hang the whole lot more than ten
times over.

But they were not hanged. Kerensky personally re-
leased the traitors, stopped the proceedings and, when
the judge insisted on continuing them, dismissed him.
Then all the documents disappeared. Robert and Bertrand
had come to an understanding.

When he had disposed of this matter Kerensky re-
turned to the theatre of war to inspire the troops to
resume the offensive. But Kornilov, the Commander-in-
Chief, told him plainly that this was impossible as long as
the Bolsheviks remained in power.

Kerensky and the General decided that Kornilov’s
troops should occupy the capital and dispose of the
Communists. Kerensky would return to St. Petersburg
to take such measures as were necessary. When he got
back he outlawed General Kornilov, had him arrested

and imprisoned.
D290 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

It seems that in the meantime the Bolsheviks had had
enough of him too, and as they were not weaklings they
had the members of the Government arrested and im-
prisoned them all except Kerensky, who, disguised as a
sailor, had managed to get away.

Thus the farce of “‘ the eunuchs in power ”’ failed and
was hissed off the boards; the Intelligentzia, who still
hope to see it put on again, alone protesting. “It is
true” they say, ‘“‘ that Kerensky sometimes did not
play his part very well, but he is such an honest man.”
It would be interesting to know what their idea of a
scoundrel is.CHAPTER IX
1918-1920

TueE sons of Israel had carried out their mission; and
Germany’s agents, having become the representatives of
Russia, signed peace with their patron at Brest-Litovsk.
But their patron made a blunder. Instead of taking over
responsibility and dismissing the servants whom they
needed no longer, they elected to secure an immediate
return on their money. Israel paid them out two hundred
million obtained from the State Treasury of Russia and
their patron left them in authority with full power to take
what they could lay their hands on.

I am sorry, for of two evils I prefer the lesser. Ger-
many is a very good administrator and if, instead of
abandoning Russia to the power of the Bolsheviks, she
had exploited her herself, we should both have done
better out of the arrangement. It would have cost us dear,
but infinitely less than the Bolsheviks, who massacred
millions of people and who in the end only achieved their
own bankruptcy and the enrichment of a few thousand
assassins and robbers.

But I must not anticipate.

When the Communists were haranguing the populace
from the balconies of Madame Kseszinska’s house and
behaving like madmen, nobody thought for a moment
that these strange figures, ridiculous rather than terrible,
291292 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

would soon be master tyrants such as the country had
never seen.

“Who are those madmen, batiushka ?’’ an old woman
asked. ‘‘ Look how they’re going on. The poor fellows
look as though they had colic.”

‘Who knows ? They don’t look like Russians. Perhaps
they're Frenchmen, or Persians or Englishmen.”’

‘“That’s it, old dear, they are English,” said a passer-
by. ‘‘ Only they are natives of Jerusalem or Berdichev.
Look at their ears.”

“T hear that Lenin, their chief, is a true Russian; that
he’s a saint and will perform miracles.”

‘“He’s performing them already. He’s stolen that
house without being put in prison.”

The people laughed. When they overthrew the Govern-
ment they laughed too and, frankly, there was something
to laugh about. Unrivalled as executioners they were
frankly stupid as legislators. Here are some examples :

“All existing laws are repealed. So too are those
which do not exist but which might attack the democratic
principles of the people. Anyone committing an offence
against this decree will be deprived of his property.”

People used to ask as a joke whether, without running
the risk of forfeiting their property, they could clean their
teeth. Certainly not. The proletariat never did. To do so
would therefore be to infringe democratic principles.

The decrees became more and more ridiculous; but.
at the start they were fairly harmless and nobody took
them seriously. Israel was full of splendid intentions, but
there was as yet no administrative machine for carrying
them into effect. Then, when the light-fingered gentry
began to enroll under their banner, the position became1918-1920 293
less humorous. Nevertheless, for the first few months
one could still carry on; it was possible to live, and even
to laugh, and one laughed a good deal.

‘‘ Let these puppets amuse themselves,”’ we would say.
We shall soon be sending them to an asylum. They are
really more comic than harmful.”’

But they went on issuing decrees.

“ The inhabitants of each house shall form a corps
which shall elect a president. The president is responsible
to the Soviet for everything that happens in the house.
He shall make a daily report to the commissaire for the
district.”’

And so forth.

“ Persons guilty of any offence against this order shall
be deprived of their property.”’

We formed a corps and unanimously elected our con-
cierge as president. He naturally objected, for his duties
were certainly not easy ; but he was offered a minister’s
salary and in the end he accepted. After a certain time
his salary was tripled, as the president had to share it with
the commissaire for the district. Then it was doubled
again as the commissaire of the district had to share it
with the commissaire of the borough. Then it was doubled
again as the central commissaire also had to have his share.

Our concierge was a very worthy fellow, though perhaps
a little too obsequious. Now that he’d become president
he felt the responsibility of his position and became
somewhat exacting towards us. He came every day to
see what we were doing, though he did so, it is true,
without molesting us, treating us as comrades rather
than as subordinates. He would turn up smiling, con-
descend to shake us by the hand, ensconce himself in an

ce294 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

armchair, light one of my cigars, cross his legs and we
would chat. Fortunately his wife suffered from a pitui-
tary gland and so we had a pleasant topic of conversation.

A new decree was issued as follows :

‘‘ The tenants in each house (the tenant and his family
counting as one) shall, each night in turn, take duty as
sentry at the entrance to the house.’ The offender, of
course—but you are familiar with the refrain: confisca-
tion of all his goods.

In the house where I was living there were only four
flats; in an annex to it there was asmall flat, inhabited
by a master cleaner. It was the master cleaner who, as
you may remember, had been arrested as a policeman and
by a miracle had got off with the loss of one eye.

One of the larger flats was occupied by a member of the
Diplomatic Corps who, being a foreign subject, was
exempt from any forced labour. Another was occupied
by an old lady who was paralytic, the third by a member
of the Imperial Council, who was eighty years old, and
the fourth by myself, who was seventy years old and
suffering at the time from an attack of gout which made
me unable to move. The only person available was the
unfortunate cleaner. But the cleaner was no fool! He
had already enrolled in the Communist party and so,
as he was now responsible for the safety of the Republic,
he was exempted from any duty.

What were we to do?

The president went for instructions to the commissaire,
who was fortunately an acquaintance of mine; he had
been my groom.

His reply was: ‘‘ One of the members of the family
must do duty instead of the head.” Anybody failing to—I918-1920 295
but you know the refrain, and I shall not repeat it
again.

My family consisted only of my wife, who was sixty
years old. The member of Council’s family consisted of
his two grandchildren, one aged twelve and the other
five; that of the paralytic lady consisted of a parrot
and a cat. Neither the child nor the parrot nor the cat
were seriously competent to look after the security of the
tenants, so the “‘ comrade” of twelve armed with a tin
gun, and my wife, shouldering her umbrella, did sentry
duty at night in turn and kept off the robbers, who were
terrified by their imposing appearance.

Fortunately one could generally adjust matters. We
set our influence to work and M. le Commissaire, for a
reasonable consideration, released the nightwatchmen
from their duties.

After three nights on duty the Baroness was able to
put away her umbrella again and after that the “ com-
rades,” freed from their fierce watchdogs, had a great
time.

Then all the tenants under sixty years of age were
instructed to clear the road of snow and ice.

For the first time we had occasion to thank heaven
that we were no longer young, for we were over that
age and useless. So this decree delighted me. At last all
men were equal; and priests, society ladies (girls and
fifty-nine year old matrons), doctors, engineers, professors,
artists, high officials (at any rate those who had not been
shot or imprisoned), all now carried out their duties as
citizens with pick and shovel, though not very efficiently
perhaps, for they had not yet acquired the habits of the
free man. It must be admitted that the education of the296 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

upper classes had been sadly neglected up to that time.
But they set gaily to work, glad at last to be of some kind
of use. It must have been an absolute holiday for them.
I even saw a gentleman wearing a morning-coat and fancy
waistcoat to celebrate the occasion. And I was told that a
senator put on his best red uniform with gold braid, the
red ribbon of the Grand Cordon across his chest. As the
uniform and the ribbon were the fashionable colour
nobody did him any harm.

It really made a touching picture. I was moved when
I saw the poor members of the proletariat at last resting
their limbs wearied by honest toil which was beyond
their strength—for they of course were released from the
obligation of doing any forced labour. As the bourgeoisie
had been sucking their blood for centuries (the phrase
was now being repeated at every opportunity by all the
proletariat) they were no longer capable of manual work
and only worked with their brains.

Now, with cigarettes in their mouths and their hands
in their pockets, they watched the bourgeoisie working
and encouraged them pleasantly with cheery remarks.

“ Put a little beef into it, you dirty idlers.”’

‘‘ You’ve been sucking our blood long enough, you filthy
brutes.”

‘Hi, you there, lassie! Stop smirking at me. If you
think you'll get off with me you're mistaken. Youre far
too filthy.”

And in order to hearten his people by showing himself
to them, Israel kept on driving by in armoured cars which
had belonged to the Imperial Court. We were happy then !
Alas! Those good times were soon to be clouded over.
A new decree granted the proletariat the right to go and1918-1920 297
live where and with whom they pleased. The bourgeoisie
lived like princes ; I&t them pack themselves tighter and
share their rooms with the comrades.

The laugh was over. The farce had taken a definitely
tragic turn.

Prodigious efforts were made to find people who were
reasonably clean to share one’s rooms free. It was dis-
agreeable in any case but not as awful as living with “‘ com-
rades ’”’ and their delightful families and their vermin.

I solved the difficulty fairly well. I moved some of my
offices to my house and put the office furniture in some of
the rooms. And my noble friend, the commissaire,
promised that for a reasonable consideration that would
be all right for the present.

But everybody was not so fortunate. Many people,
after having tried the comrades, left their flats with every-
thing in them (shortly afterwards it was forbidden to
take anything away) to go and live with friends, acquain-
tances, or even with strangers who appeared to be fairly
respectable, but often turned out not to be. Others were
simply thrown out of doors.

A new decree was published: “ All foodstuffs hereby
become the property of the State. The State has the
right to sell and buy them. Every citizen has the right to
a fixed ration per day on payment.” I don’t remember
what the ration was, but it was sufficient to starve on
slowly. As the proletariat complained, the law was
modified.

The whole population was divided into three categories.
The first category consisted of the Communists and the
employees of the Soviet, the privileged class. The second
category, the soldiers and the proletariat. The third298 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

category were the bourgeois pariahs. The first category
was liberally supplied, the second had a sufficient ration,
while the bourgeois only had the right to half a pound of
bread and a herring. Then, when bread became scarce,
to a quarter of a pound.

As the bourgeois was still glutted with the blood of the
proletariat with which he had gorged himself to satiety,
this ration was more than sufficient.

But the bourgeois, always insatiable in his appetites,
thought otherwise and complained, though not too
loudly, for it was as much as his life was worth, counter
revolution being punishable by death.

Nevertheless we would queue up for hours to receive
our miserable ration and often, when it was raining, blow-
ing or freezing (and remember we were not in Nice but in
Russia), we would spend the night waiting, as otherwise
there was a risk of getting nothing. When everything
had been taken by the first comers, the shop was shut.

A little additional food could naturally be obtained
by stealth at fantastic prices. The Government agents
and the “red” soldiers trafficked in everything, but it
was dangerous for the buyer. The administrative machi-
nery was beginning to improve; you might have your
domicile inspected and then, if anything whatever were
found, it was the worse for you. You remember the
refrain: “ Any offence. . .’’ etc.

This was no idle threat any longer. The administrative
machine was being perfected. It is unnecessary to add
that the State inspectors, when carrying out their duties,
immediately carried off any articles which were inconsis-
tent with the democratic principles of the proletariat.
Such articles were numerous. They included any object ofI9g18-1920 299
value, fur coats and especially boots. If boots were found
anywhere excepting on your feet, there was trouble.

You will readily understand that it was not desirable
to be in possession of boots. They were hidden, as young
women hide their little secret extravagances.

The burning question now was how to solve the food
problem. It was the sole topic of conversation and if one’s
friends heard of any supplies they would ring one up to
say where to apply.

Only you had to be careful. It was dangerous to have
dealings with unknown persons. When the goods had been
delivered and paid for they would denounce you, and the
authorities, who were their catspaws, would come and
seize your goods. But for about a thousand roubles a day
(about three thousand francs) it was still possible to keep
alive. Those were happy times! It cost two millions
later. And the curious thing is that there were even then
people who failed to die of hunger; not many, it is true
but there were some. One may do what one will but the
dirty bourgeois will go on sucking the blood of the poor
proletariat.

The decrees kept on being issued ; decrees ordering the
surrender of blankets, clothes, flannel waistcoats, etc.

The proletariat stopped at nothing and neither did the
commissaires.

Finally there came the knock-out blow: ‘“‘ All land, all
houses and immovable property, deposit and current
accounts at the bank, belonging to individuals or com-
panies, are hereby confiscated and declared to be. the
property of the nation. The former owners are allowed to
draw three hundred roubles a month on their current300 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

accounts. Shares, debentures, State bonds, and other
certificates are hereby cancelled.”’

The only right left to the bourgeois was to die of hunger.
Fortunately, the legislators had been careless. They had
left out movable property. In order to live, people pro-
ceeded to sell this.

Notices offering to buy and sell goods appeared every-
where. Everything was for sale and everybody became a
seller. Buyers were not lacking either. Members of the
proletariat, red soldiers, commissaires, sailors—* the
flower and glory of the Revolution ’’—all had to set
themselves up completely and to do so on a decent
footing suitable to their new station. After all people do
not overthrow a throne in order to go living as pariahs,
and the women, and especially the sailors, were fond of
jewels:

The sailors had an absolute passion for them. They
wore double and treble necklaces round their bare necks,
and to do their taste justice they chose well. They had
bracelets, watches and rings besides.

Dressed like little lords, clean-shaven, scented and per-
fumed, with manicured hands, they were loathsome.
There was certainly every reason to call them “ the price
and glory of the Revolution.” They had travelled and
seen all lands and, as is well known, nothing does so much
to polish a young man as travel.

The other nouveaux riches were equally splendid in
their newly acquired wealth, but, although they were
fellow countrymen, the truth must come before every-
thing, and they were really rather unsavoury—especially
the fine ladies. The rich dirt of their nails, and the lichen
growing luxuriously on their teeth, quite outshone theIg18-1920 301
splendour of their jewels and the magnificence of their
furs. And to hear them talk! It made me blush for my
country.

Money flowed in streams; it was to be had for the
asking. It was a real land of milk and honey. For one
thing, millions of officials had been created, as the State
owned, and had to organise everything, and you will
readily understand that amongst its servants were many
who did not work to make money for Israel but for them-
selves.

Besides, it was only necessary to make a “ naliot,” the
modern euphemism for a raid on the bourgeois, to get
anything one wanted in the way of money, jewelry and
furs, and so on. The only point of making purchases in
the shops as well as that one was offered a greater choice
there, whereas in making a “ naliot ’’ one had to be satis-
fied with what one found. That, of course, is trying for a
man of taste and refinement. Besides, one did not exclude
the other, and money did not cost them anything. When
their pockets were empty they filled them again at
once. Fortunately the bourgeois still existed and the
source was not yet exhausted.

One day, before the knock-out blow, I went in to the
most fashionable jeweller’s, who had been at school with
me in Switzerland. I found some society ladies there, not
to buy, but to sell the few things that had not yet passed
into the hands of the comrades.

“So you're still buying ?”’ I said to him.

“Of course. I sell as quickly as I buy. Business has
never been as good as it is now. But I only sell big stones,
not really artistic objects.”

‘““ But who on earth are the buyers ?”’302 FROM SEREDOM TO BOLSHEViISM

‘Why, the soldiers, sailors and riff-raff. No respect-
able people, of course.”

“ Aren’t you afraid of the ‘ naliot ’ ?”’

“No. I’ve managed to get protection.”’

‘“Couldn’t you get me protection too ?”

‘‘ Quite impossible. It’s a professional secret. Besides,
I’m an Israelite and you're a Russian, so you understand.”

While we were talking a red soldier and his lady came
into the shop. He was a clod-hopper, straight from the
plough, a simpleton who was quite bewildered by his good
fortune. She was a kitchen-maid who was up to all the
tricks of the game, as she had knocked about the capital.
She was marked with small-pox, had a red complexion
and a shiny skin, dazzling jewels, splendid furs, a gorgeous
frock and an enormous hat. Her nails were black and she
was painted so that you wanted smoked glasses to look at
her. The yokel was quite proud to be seen with such a
great lady. She must be at least a princess. Just think!
Him, a simple ploughboy, and her, a lady with a hat! He
was beaming with happiness.

“A pearl necklace, and see that they are genuine,” the
creature ordered nonchalantly, to impress the poor
wretches who were standing by her.

“Not glass ones, but very expensive ones,” said the
booby. “‘ Shining ones like the ‘ baryni’! wear. They’re
for her.”’

So that there couldn’t be any mistake he pointed at
her.

A necklace was produced. The beauty looked at it
contemptuously.

“ How much ?”

t Baryni—real ladies of the nobility.1918-1920
‘‘ Forty thousand roubles, (Our money had not yet lost
its value. The rouble was still worth about three francs).
“I want more expensive ones; not dirty things like
those.”’

“ She knows,” said the yokel. ‘‘ Oh, yes, she knows all
right. You can’t foolher. She’s a devil, she is.”

Another necklace was produced.

“ This one is seventy-five thousand.”

The woman didn’t even look at it ; the price had con-
vinced her that it was inferior.

‘““T must have something better.”

‘ Certainly,” said the soldier. “‘ Something much more
expensive. She really couldn’t wear that.”

‘IT am sorry, madame, at the moment we haven’t got
anything better. In a few days perhaps. . .”

“ She must have it to-day. We are going to the recep-
tion at the Winter Palace this evening. She can’t dance
without pearls. The bourgeois has been sucking our blood
long enough !”’

“Let’s go to the Gostinoy Dvor,’’ said the beauty,
pushing aside the jewel-case. ‘‘ We are sure to find what I
want there. You can get anything there.”

The ladies could not refrain from smiling. The stores
in question only dealt in imitation jewelry. The beauty
blushed with vexation under her paint. She saw that she
had made a blunder. She tried to recover herself :

“ As I’ve had all the trouble of coming to your shop
I’ll take the wretched things. When you have something
better Pll buy it too. We can afford it.”

“Yes,” said the yokel. ‘“‘ We can afford it. I refuse her
nothing. We share everything.’ He burst out laughing.
“Yes, everything. Don’t I, Melanie ?”304 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

Looking very pleased with himself he paid and handed
the jewel-case to his lady.

“Take it with my love.”

When they had gone, one of the ladies observed :

“Did you see the clasp on that creature’s coat?
Perfectly magnificent! I’m sure it comes from Lalique.”

“You are mistaken, madame, it’s our work. I made it
for the Princess,’ and he mentioned a well-known name.

The lady sighed: “‘ They’ve taken all my jewelry too.”

‘“ And mine too,” said another. “‘ But I managed to
save my diamond necklace. When they called I threw it
out of the window into the snow. They didn’t notice it.”

It is unnecessary to add that the yokel was on “ naliot ”
duty.

To carry out “ naliots,” to be a “ naliottshik ”’ as it was
called, had become a trade, just like being a carpenter or a
confectioner had been.

One day I found our president’s wife, an excellent
woman, in tears. I asked her whether her pituitary gland
was giving her trouble. “‘ No,’’ she said, “ it was better,
as she was applying hot poultices.’”’ She was crying
because that rascal Serguey had stolen all her money.
To think of it! A little boy of sixteen, stealing a thousand
roubles from his own aunt, his father’s sister. If he’d been
a little older. But at his age! Nothing was sacred to-day.
God was forgotten.

Three days later the good woman was beaming with
pleasure.

“Tam glad to see that your pituitary trouble is better,”
I said.

“Alas, no. Poultices are no use. My neighbour has
advised me to try another treatment. I'll give you the1918-1920 305
prescription. But I’ve got my money back, and more.
Serguey is really a good boy. He’s carried out a “’ naliot ”
with some friends because, you know, he wants to become
a “‘ naliottshik ’’—he has indeed become one already—and
he got twenty thousand roubles from it. Just imagine, a
beginner, and twenty thousand roubles in one night !
It’s very good and, besides, like the good boy he is, he has
given me my money back and a present of three thousand
roubles besides.”’

I have known the woman for fourteen years and she
has always been honesty itself, but ideas had changed
and men had become different. Three years later, prac-
tising Christians who were accustomed to fast on Fridays
and Wednesdays, had become cannibals and were eating
their own children.

They were not doing that yet, but were fasting, not
only on Fridays and Wednesdays, but throughout the
week, and we, who hadn’t ever fasted at all, also fasted
for the whole week.

Nevertheless, we were comparatively fortunate. We
still had, at any rate for the time being, a large flat full
of numerous objects, valuable pictures, bronzes, antiques
and all kind of things. If we were not robbed we had
enough to live on for some time.

But what about those who had not all these things ?
They were the great majority, even of those who were well
off. What they still had disappeared with a terrifying
rapidity and soon destitution was general.

Everywhere you saw people staggering along with
wan, sallow complexions. And the wretched children !
You could tell by their eyes that the poor little things were
dying of hunger. I saw many a drama in the “ office for

U306 FROM SEREDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

purchases and sales ’’ where I went like everybody else to
sell something or other. One day while I was there, a
delightful little girl, about five or six years old, came in,
huddled in old rags. I had often noticed the little girl
driving with her mother, a beautiful young woman, in a
carriage drawn by high-stepping horses. The child put a
doll and a pair of shoes on the counter.

“Why hasn’t your mother come ?”’

‘‘ Mother can’t go out. These shoes are her last pair.”’

“Have you sold everything ?”’

‘No, sir. We've still got a kettle and a lot of chairs.
Four. There’s an armchair and two tables besides. But
nobody wants them. And I’ve still got a doll. But mother
says that nobody will pay anything for it. It’s nose is
broken. It wasn’t I that broke its nose but my little
brother, who died a few days ago. Mother had no money
left to buy him Nestlé. You know the powder that small
children eat.”

“Where’s your father ?”

“Father ? The sailors killed him.”

In the street old men, ladies and girls whom I had met
in society were selling matches and newspapers, and were
badgered by the regular vendors with whom they were
competing.

My friend, the old Princess Galitzin, surreptitiously sold
little pies which she made ; my cousin sold knitted wear,
others sold paper flowers, luxury articles in great demand,
slippers made from their old carpets and a thousand things
of their own invention. A former gentleman of the bed-
chamber to the Emperor had had a brilliant idea, which
enabled him to live in style. He had succeeded in becom-
ing concierge of a museum where strange creatures were1918-1920 307
kept in methylated spirits, strange abortions, embryos
and other objects of the kind. Strong drink reached
fabulous prices at this period, as it had been prohibited
since the war. He substituted pure water for the alcohol
in the cases and bottled the methylated spirits. The
comrades were delighted with this nectar.

More trying even perhaps than the shortage of food was
the cold and lack of light. The flats above, below and on
either side were unheated and even those who could make
a fire at home shivered and froze. As I have already
observed, we were not in the South but in the North,
where the cold is intense in winter, sometimes really
terrible, and the winters are long.

The electric supply had failed for some weeks ; candles
and oil were unobtainable and in St. Petersburg it is dark
in the winter at about two or three o'clock in the afternoon
until nine o’clock in the morning. One stayed at home,
shivering with cold, famished and with nothing to do,
expecting at any moment a visit from the victims whose
blood one had been sucking. It was no fun, and one’s
thoughts at the time were far from amusing.

Every day brought bad news. A relation or friend had
been shot or assassinated, another had been imprisoned,
and a third driven out of his house.

And yet these were still the good times !_ The nightmare
of the red terror was still to come.

Germany had placed Lenin and Israel in power, but she
had not definitely abdicated. Her agents at St. Petersburg
and Count Mirbach with his general staff at Moscow saw to
the consolidation of the Bolshevist régime and assisted it308 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

with their advice and suggestions. Israel knew—perhaps
better than his advisers—what he wanted, and was less
particular about the means than they were, but he lacked
experience of affairs and the Germans were past masters
in that respect. Once the necessary experience had been
acquired and the power more or less consolidated, Count
Mirbach was assassinated by his pupils and the other
instructors were sent home.

But to consolidate the power was not an easy matter.
The adepts of Bolshevism were comparatively few. There
were practically no true converts and the thousands of
men who declared themselves adherents of the faith were
merely imposters, riff-raff which took it up in order to be
able to plunder with impunity. The bourgeoisie were
hostile, the working classes and the proletariat were a
crowd who might rat at any moment and would certainly
do so the moment that they saw that the cake was not for
them. But the great danger in the Capital was the garri-
son, the eighty thousand sheep converted into red guards
armed with rifles and machine-guns, who, having over-
thrown the monarchy, had come to realise their power and
could quite easily, without any danger, liquidate Israel
as soon as they decided to do so. As for Russia itself, the
rural population and the moujik, they did not count yet.

The important thing was to seize power as quickly as
possible in the towns. The moujik did not bother about
finding out who was boss: provided he was left in posses-
sion of the land, of which he had robbed the proprietors,
it was all the same to him. Government by the Czar, by
eunuchs or by Israel, it was all one to the moujik.

On these data it was not difficult to evolve a programme.
The most important thing was to disband the red guards1g18-1920 309
and replace them by a soldiery upon which Israel could
rely blindly. The next thing was to get rid of the bour-
geoisie, with whom it would certainly be impossible ever
to come to terms. Then, to make the proletariat harmless
and reign supreme.

The red guards were prettily duped. They were foolish
enough to think themselves all-powerful. A few regiments
of Chinese and Letts were recruited at great expense and
stationed in the neighbourhood of the Capital and at the
railway stations.

Then the rumour was spread about that the peasants
were dividing up the land and that those who were not
there when it was being divided would get nothing. The
red guards immediately all asked to go on leave to get their
share. The Government looked dubious and then con-
sented to let them go; but they declared that they would
take their arms with them. There were further discussions.
And in the end the Government yielded again, but on one
condition. It was impossible that the Capital should do
without them all at once; the counter-revolution would
take advantage of the position. They would have to leave
in small detachments.

This was done. When they got to their stations, the
Chinese and the Letts disarmed them and they were for-
bidden to return to the Capital under penalty of death.
The heroes, grey sheep once more, cut a sorry figure.

You may have observed that the typical feature of the
Russian Revolution—the passivity of its victims—was
common to all its phases, whether comic or tragic.

Just a joke—and without the least resistance the310 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

throne crumbled. A handful of knaves were sent by the
enemy into Russia to destroy her, and without a protest
the Provisional Government let itself be put to bed like
an infant.

That Government in its panic had converted the timid
sheep into all-powerful Pretorian Guards—and now, of
these eighty thousand Pretorians who caused the Govern-
ment and the Capital to tremble, thanks to a simple
trick, not one remained.

The bourgeoisie did even better. Hundreds and
thousands of men allowed themselves to be taken to the
slaughter-house without any resistance—and to be
slaughtered.

And Russia as a whole exceeds even this. She allows
Israel to take her by the collar, buffet her, throw her into
prison, reduce her to nothing, spit upon her God and lord
it over his ashes.

And to-day a hundred odd million of human animals
wander scattered throughout the world, rot in prison, or
die of hunger in the fields which formerly used to feed
Europe, and tremble with terror under the lash of crimi-
nals, their jailors. Germany, England and Italy look on
and applaud, while they are saying at Moscow: ‘‘ Patience,
gentlemen. Your turn will come. Lloyd George and
Heinrich Wirth are doing their best.’’!

Once the pretorian sheep had been disarmed the Chinese
and Letts took their place. They were good soldiers,
admirable jailors and executioners; they would be
needed. The bourgeois must all be got rid of. It is true
there were men for the job but they were only fit for the
unskilled work and not for carrying it out artistically.

t Written in 1922.Ig18-1920 311

As the whole of Europe has been engaged in mutual
slaughter for some years the most humane being can kill
a man as coolly as he used to tie his tie. It’s all a question
of habit.

Before I9r4 it was painful to see a dog run over. Then
every day one would see tens, hundreds and thousands
of men killed and mutilated, and amongst them friends,
brothers, one’s own children, and one got used to it. It
used to be thought horrible to spend the night in the com-
pany of a corpse but since then we have slept in barns
containing many more than one corpse and sometimes we
have taken one of them to serve as a pillow.

That has become a matter of habit, so familiar that it
seems to belong to the natural order of things, and to kill
or be killed is nothing. The mental attitude of crowds,
and often of individuals, depends upon the time and the
environment in which they live. That of early man must
differ from that of our contemporaries and the mental
attitude of the men of 1920 was necessarily different from
that of the men of I913.

I once met the son of one of my friends in Finland. I
had known him well before the war. He was an educated
young man, of a very gentle nature, and well balanced.
He had since been a volunteer in the war, then he had been
with Yudenitsh’s army, and according to his chief he was
a brave and gallant soldier.

In telling me of his experiences he told me that one day
he had suddenly come into a district where he had found
twelve Bolsheviks torturing a family. They had tied a
pot with a rat in it to the mother’s stomach and the rat was
gnawing her entrails. The hands of the wretched woman
were nailed to a table, on which two young children of312 PROM SEREDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

hers, who were still alive, were tied to a plate with a knife
and fork through their bodies. They had already had
their eyes gouged out.

‘““'What did you do to those wretches ?”’ I asked.

“The General, who happened to turn up, ordered them
to be hanged,” and he began to laugh.

“What are you laughing at ?”’

“T remember one of them, a very nice-looking boy,
rather fair. I only had volunteers with me, who were
almost children, and none of them knew how to set about
the job. So I had to hang the whole dozen of them by
myself. You know, to hang a man is not so simple as it
seems. And when there are twelve of them... You
understand. . .”

“Is that what you're laughing at ?”

‘ I’m thinking of the little fair man’s head. I couldn’t
get him to put it through into the noose. He was quite
determined not to. He was funny. He looked like a colt
which you are trying to put into harness for the first time.
When I succeeded and the job was done, he danced about
like a puppet. I had to hang on to his legs to stop him. It
was just like a swing. It nearly broke my arms.”

The Chinese and the Letts were at their posts; the
hour for the bourgeois had struck.

And the dance of death began; a dance such as the
world had never seen. The slaughter-house worked
twenty-four hours a day and there were not enough hands
for the work.

I will spare you the details. They are too terrible and
too repulsive. Men of to-day shrink from the hideousIg18-1920 313
pictures of a Ribera: victims whose skin is being taken
off them like a glove, whose eyes are burnt with white-hot
metal, martyrs whose entrails are wound on to reels like
thread, men being flayed alive. We are too civilised for
such revolting scenes. To-day we want themes which are
more noble, more amusing, and above all more refined :
the negro Siki driving in Carpentier’s jaw with his fist, or
the King of Italy shaking hands at Genoa with Monsieur
Tchitcherin, the tail-coated representative of the Govern-
ment of the Moscow executioners. Besides, people only
half believe in “‘ these Russians who are eternally dying of
hunger on their Volga without ever finishing the business,
who beg for rations at Constantinople, who clutter up
Europe, bother everybody for visas, never stop telling
their depressing stories and are always exaggerating.”’

One day I was rash enough to describe the horrible
death of one of my relations who had been assassinated
by the red guards to a charming Parisian lady, who was
well read and of fastidious taste. I will tell you her reply.

‘“ Your nerves are really getting into a very bad state.
You see the dark side of everything.”

As my elder son was married and my younger son dead,
our flat was too big for us. We two alone felt rather lost in
it. But we needed a place for all the odds and ends which
we had picked up all over the place during half a century ;
we were fond of the things. We couldn’t use my offices.
My clerks had gone; they only called occasionally so as
not to leave us entirely alone; then, when the trains
stopped running, their visits ceased. Our servants had
left us too, excepting a woman and her brother who had
been attached to us for years. The big cold rooms (from314 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

which every day some beloved object disappeared to
be converted into cash) their gloom and emptiness made
us feel quite sad.

For a long time we had been thinking of leaving the
town, where life had become impossible. But nobody was
allowed to leave without a special permit and in spite of
all our efforts we had so far failed to get one.

The big mining company, of which I was one of the
directors, had not been nationalised yet, but all the
members of the board had already left the town excepting
one of my colleagues and myself. We thought it our duty
to remain at our posts as long as we possibly could.

One day, when we were at work, a son of Israel, a
youth of about twenty (we gathered that this comrade
had been a locksmith) appeared, followed by two men
carrying books, of the same race, and about ten Chinamen.
He presented his warrant.

It had come at last ; the Company was declared to be
State property. We were instructed to hand over the cash-
box, and to submit our accounts to the Commissaire
General for all mining enterprises in the Republic. The
locksmith was the commissaire in question.

We did so with pleasure, glad to be relieved of our
duties which had become somewhat irksome.

The accountants checked the books—they were trained
men and knew their job—and then the cash. When that
had been done the grand commissaire told them to take
it away. Then he proceeded to cross-examine us about the
business. At the first word he said it was obvious that he
did not understand a thing about it. Probably he realised
this himself ; and he went to consult one of the accoun-
tants. Then he came back and said :Ig18-1920 315

“Comrades, you will continue to manage the mines
as commissaires of the State. The comrade accountant has
told me that it is necessary to provide the comrade miners
with food. See that this is done at once.”’

~ In order to do so we need money, and you have taken
the cash.”’

“ You will get money out of the mines.”

‘ No, the mines aren’t working.”’

" It is up to you, comrades, to see that the comrade
miners start work again.”

“ You know quite well that they won’t listen to us.”

“ That’s nothing to do with me. We’ve talked long
enough. If the comrades have to go without food you will
both be shot.”’

" We request you to nominate others to carry out our
duties.”’

~ What do you mean ? We shoot anybody who refuses
to carry on. Bear that in mind. You’ve not got to talk
but to obey. We know how to make the dirty bourgeoisie
work. They’ve been sucking our blood long enough. I'll
come back in a fortnight and then—you’d better take
care !”

We decided to flee at once. That very day, my colleague,
who had a permit, left for the South. He put me on toa
man who would undertake to get me over the frontier
without a permit. We decided that my wife could not
leave with me but should join our son in the Crimea. A
train was to come from the Ukraine to fetch the wife of
the Hetman Skoropadsky ; she could take advantage of
this and leave without a passport.

While we were waiting we rented two rooms opening on
to a little yard, from an old lady who was a friend of ours,316 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM™M

so that when I was gone, the Baroness would be able to
stay there. She would attract less attention there than in
our large flat.

When I got home after making several calls, I found my
wife on the staircase carrying up wood with considerable
difficulty. She told me that our maid and her brother had
both left us, as they’d heard that lands were being divided
up in the country and it was essential to be on the spot:
The president’s wife was suffering from her pituitary
trouble and he was too important a person to help us.
We were left to our own resources.

At dawn—it was still dark and the rain was coming
down in torrents—the Baroness left to queue up at a
baker’s. I went down to get wood ; but I found I could
not get it upstairs. I was over seventy and twisted with
rheumatism.

I cleaned the boots, washed the pots, swept the rooms
and brushed the clothes. Then I wanted to boil the
samovar to make some tea, but I was not able to do it.
I was not physically capable even of that.

My wife came back exhausted and soaked to the skin.
The oven had gone out. There was no hot water for tea
and no light. She had to go down again and bring up
wood, she, a weak old woman. And I, who quite lately
had thought myself a strong man, was so distressed by my
weakness that I sat down on a chair and felt the tears
coming to my eyes.

The bell rang. I went to open the door ; a man came
in. I couldn’t see who he was until I took him to the
window—it was still dark. He was a friend of my son's
who had come from Moscow on business. When he saw
our condition he said nothing, turned on his heel and1918-1920 317
disappeared. We didn’t know what to think. Half an
hour later he was back with his trunk. He said he would
stay with us and do the heavy work.

The man who was to get me away came to tell me that
we should leave on the following Thursday. I was to dress
shabbily, have a beard of some days’ growth, wear dark
glasses and appear to be seriously ill. My only luggage
was to be a small trunk. The employees of a hospital
train, which was to take invalid Germans to Pskov, a town
which was still occupied by the Germans, had consented to
take me as contraband if—that was the crux of the matter
—if I could manage to get into the train. As my man had
colleagues in the station the plan might succeed with luck.
Only if by any chance the reds came to inspect the travel-
lers during the journey it would be up to me to get out of
the difficulty as well as I could. He would be on the train
to help if he could but he would pretend not to know me.
The difficulty was to get to the frontier. It would be
quite easy to pass it as he had a letter from the German
Embassy to the “ Kommanditur.”’

I said good-bye to my wife, and my young friend, who
was carrying my trunk, went with me to a baggage shed,
from which the train was to start. The shed was over-
flowing with German sick and wounded, and women and
children. In spite of their strange clothes I recognised
amongst them Ditmar, the Colonel of the Guard, and
Baron Pilar, an officer in the Horse Guards. They didn't
recognise me, as I heard afterwards, owing to my black
spectacles.

The train was to start at three o’clock ; but we were
still waiting for the inspection at midnight, sitting on the
ground, as we had no seats.318 FROM SEREDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

At last a group of comrades appeared and sat down at a
table. Sentinels guarded the door. The roll-call began.
Each person as he was called out went up to the table, his
papers were examined to see if his name were on the list
and then he passed. At the door leading on to the platform
there was another inspection, but this was less strict.
The sentry, a stupid-looking youth, simply examined
your passport.

Dragging my trunk with great difficulty, I made my
way amongst the crowd to the door, without passing in
front of the table. I knew that my name was not on the
list. The only passport that I had was a document signed
by myself covered with a lot of fancy rubber stamps.
Rubber stamps always impose upon people who cannot
read, and I counted on that.

When the chief inspection was at last over, the door
was thrown open and the crowd began to pass through, one
at a time. The men at the table, glad to be finished with
their job, stretched themselves, began to chat and smoke
and to drink tea. Then I went to the sentry and showed
him my permit.

That permit’s no good. You want one from the High
Commissaire.”’

I feigned stupidity.

‘ Commissaire, commissaire. Jawohl.”

‘ Look here, you old fool. . .”

‘“ How dare you insult a German subject !” thundered
a man with the Red Cross brassard. ‘‘ You can see that he
can’t talk Russian and that he’s deaf besides. I will
report you.”

The sentry was terrified.

“ I’m only asking to see his passport.”’Ig18-1920 319

“You had much better ask whether his name is on the
list. That’s much more reliable.”

He shouted :

~ This tall old man here, is he on the list ?”

" Yes, he is,’ shouted somebody. ‘‘ Let him pass.”’

The man with the brassard seized my trunk and dragged
me with him. There we were on the train. The carriage
was clean and had beds laid out in it. I was laid on one of
them, fully dressed, and covered with a coarse blanket.
It was the compartment for the seriously ill. The train
started.

The man next me was a young man on the point of
death. He was clutching at his blanket with emaciated
hands which were white as chalk, and kept mumbling :
egidare: = Tim coming: - >) ida, 2. Tmecominess

That went on for some hours.

Then a sigh and he stiffened. He was dead. We came to
a station and stopped. Papers were to be examined
again and luggage. The sick began to moan: “ Why
doesn’t this torture come to an end ?”

“ Opening our trunks again. There’ll be nothing left.”

~ You’ve sucked our blood long enough, seems to be
the appropriate remark.”

But the joke fell flat. Nobody felt like laughing. I
didn’t feel like it either.

The moment had come which was to decide my fate ;
my heart beat as though it would burst but, curiously
enough, when the door opened and the crowd came in I
suddenly felt perfectly calm. My courage had returned.

I remained with closed eyes, stretched on my_ back,
and breathing with difficulty, clutching the blanket with
my hands. I had studied the part from the man next me320 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

‘‘ Your keys and passport. Bestir yourself.’’ The rustic
pulled at my shoulder. I opened my eyes, looked at him
with a glazed look and then shut them again :

“ Trinken (water).”’

‘He is dying,” said the man with the brassard. “ You
will have to take him out with the man who has just
died.”’

“Take him out ? What are you talking about? We
wouldn’t dream of it. It’s not our business.”’

‘“ Corpses mayn’t be left on the train.”

‘“ We've got enough corpses as it is, old boy. We don't
need any of yours.”

‘If you want corpses I'll let you have them at a re-
duced price, ten for five cigarettes.”

‘Even for three,” said the first. ‘‘ Quite fresh and
warm from the incinerator. We've just been roasting
them, they’re still smoking.”’

‘We can’t keep dead men in the train.”’

‘You don’t like them ?”’

“ey.ou OUPnt tO. = 7

‘Enough said. Let’s go and get out tea.”

‘Good evening, niemetz (Boche). Kind regards to
William.”’

‘Give him your two corpses from me. We'll send him
the others by post.”’

And they went out roaring with laughter. The man
with the brassard leant over me.

“Do you really want something to drink ?” he asked.

“No, thank you.” I pressed his hand, and asked him
whether it was over.

“ They'll come again at Torochino. It won't be so easy
to get rid of them there.”Ig18-1920 321

‘““ When shall we get there ?”’

‘‘ Not before eight in the morning. I’ll bring you coffee
at seven.”’

“ Thank you.”

I had a good sleep and woke up very hungry. When the
coffee was brought I got out of my trunk the provisions
which my wife had packed up and proceeded to have my
breakfast. I had a whole hour to spare.

The door suddenly opened. A whole pack of them were
there. The ruffians had got onto the train at the last
station. It was impossible to pretend to be dead.

They consisted of two commissaires and some soldiers.
One was a coarse brute who laughed all the time in an
idiotic way. The other was an old card sharper; I recog-
nised him at once. Before the Revolution he was always
hanging about Witte’s house.

‘““ Your papers, please.”

‘Ha, ha, ha! A hundred millions ?”

He looked at me with a bewildered expression.

The man with the brassard whispered to him. The
commissaire burst out laughing.

‘“‘That’s a good one! So you are the famous Roths-
child ?”’

Peak ha nase

‘“We know the Rothschilds,” said the card sharper.
Get along, you. Stop pretending you’re mad. It’s no use
pretending. Anyhow I’ve seen you before. Who are you?”’

‘Baron Rothschild.”’

“T’ve had enough of this,” and turning to the big
commissaire, he said :

‘“T advise you to make him get off at Torochino and
=322 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

put him in gaol. I’ve got other business but I'll be back in
a few hours. We'll make this bourgeois talk.”

The other man laughed.

“ That’s it! We'll make him talk, we'll make him talk
all right.”

They left two soldiers behind and went off. Alas! The
man with the brassard had disappeared.

At Torochina a German train, full of soldiers, was
standing on the line parallel to ours. I was told to get out.
I saw the man who was looking after me getting back into
the train. He did not even look at me and I was taken
off. At the entrance to the station, a Prussian officer
was speaking to the commissaire. As we passed he
shouted :

‘““ Halt !” My escort halted.

The officer looked me up and down and knocked my
glasses off with his hand.

“So it’s you, is it? I recognised you by your figure.
Don’t say a word. You can make your explanations to
the court martial. I know you: Miiller, the escaped con-
VICE,”

“Tt’s false.”’

Sonut up.

Then he turned to the commissaire: “ As this man is a
prisoner of ours I’ll take him back.”

“Very well.”

I was pushed into a truck with barred windows on the
German train.

When the train had started the door opened and the
Lieutenant came in.

“Your name ?” he asked.

I told him my name, The officer saluted,Ig14-1918 323

“ You have been recommended to us by our Embassy.
I must apologise for having had to be so rough. It was the
only way of getting you out of their clutches. Luckily
that man was a fool. If the other man had been there you
would have been done for. Will you kindly go to the Kom-
mandatur at Pleskau.”

Pleskau, Pskov as we used to call it, had already been
given a German name. A lump came into my throat.
The station was decked out in the German colours and
the band played a Prussian military tune ; I was amongst
men—and not amongst those animals.

I will now close. But I want this story, like all stories,
to end with a moral. It’s old-fashioned and it doesn’t
lead to anything—but I hold to it.

Besides, I don’t want to be misunderstood.

I can imagine everybody saying: “Israel must pay
for this with their blood. The day of vengeance will
come.”

The day of vengeance has already come. Israel has
extorted capital and interest on the sufferings endured
during centuries and, as always happens in these cases, it
is not the really guilty but those who had nothing to do
with it, who have had to pay. We have paid for our fathers
and reaped what our predecessors have sown. The account
is squared.

Let us forget nothing, let us pardon nothing, but let us
be just. Let us have no mass judgment, no revenge and
no reprisals. Punish the guilty, Jews or Christians—
whichever they may be, but do not make the innocent
suffer. Let us cease to be wild animals and become human324 FROM SERFDOM TO BOLSHEVISM

beings again. It is high time we did so. Let force be
guided by right.

And then, as in the old fairy tales, we shall live happily
hereafter and have many children.

THE END

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